Edward has left, isolating Bella in a world where she was neither dead or alive. Love was no longer promising, nor very appealing, but could a mysterious, new student possibly make her feel otherwise? And then "he" returns...

And All for Me, to Me, You Sue
Chapter 1: Callum Chandler

October

November

December

January

"You… don't… want me?" I desperately scanned his face for an emotion – any sort of it – that could possibly equal the amount that is evident in both my voice and my face, I'm sure. But he bore none, evenly dividing his eyes and lips so neither presented a trace of feeling.

"No." It swung swift daggers that I knew were impossible to dodge – not that I had any strength, or reason, to dodge them now – in the direction of my heart and I became paralyzed in place.

My words froze within my throat in a blazing manner and a fatal trail of heat scathed my internal structures as it seemed to track every last, living part of me. I felt my heart drop with my eyes. I didn't miss – yet still tried to ignore – the cruel breeze that danced elegantly across my face. It boastfully flew and evaded the obstacles it met along the olive forest, echoing musical, soft notes to further show its grand ability. And then he was gone with it. The wind, the earth – nature – drew him away from me, and I threw my head in alarm to watch the futility of his return. My arms reached out helplessly into the sky, my fingers depicting the shape of his slender, toned figure as though they are attempting to conjure him physically in my arms again. I remained expressionless. My lips felt dry as they hung slightly open.

A quiet, heavenly chuckle interrupted my impossible incantation. I quickly turned, and sure enough, there he was.

"Bella," he sung with the instrumental hum of the wind.

"Edward." I managed. The wind must have carried my crooked notes to his ears because even I barely heard myself. He smiled. Right then, upon that godly sight, I ran, swinging my arms open widely just as I –

I gasped awake. The ancient bed creaked with my abrupt fixation beneath me. It took a little bit of a struggle for me to catch my breath, but it was hardly comparable to the struggle I have to encounter every morning when I try to escape from that nightmare of a dream. I wasn't about to let it happen again. Night after night, the same scene builds within my stubborn dreams, and each night, it ends similarly: We would hold each other – eternally, it would seem – and sigh contently at each other's mere presence.

I hated it – the impossibility of that man's return, emphasized by my very own unconsciousness. For months, I've avenged my torn existence by silly attempts to forget him, and to no reachable avail. Cool, wary breezes seeped through my windowpane, its invisible, tiny fragments squeezing through my skin. It made an angelic presentation with my lemon curtains – another one of my ancient belongings. I crept to my window slowly and absently traced its wooden border with my fingers. The sky was a smudged grey color, as it is on most days here at Forks. It fairly drizzled and yet still foreshadowed an afternoon downpour. I've actually begun to accept – and even like – its constant pattern. Envy easily invaded my fragile system at its independent ability to unleash the tears that are beyond its control.

I smiled earnestly. I pulled my curtains together and fixed my bed. Looking at it then, I realized how plain it was – ivory sheets with floral stitching on the bottom and on the top and only two pillows in soft, olive cases. Around the room was nothing more or less extravagant. Aged peach and shallow brown wallpaper covering the walls, a historic rocking chair left behind by my parents from my earlier years, a slouched desk – there to make up for the space than anything, I'd say – and a miniature walk-in closet, though reasonable when considered my pitiful amount of clothes. Clothes were ever hardly any interest to me, and I wondered if a time will come in which I'd scramble through that closet for what probably would end up being an uncomfortable and awkward occasion. I simply shook my head in hopeful objection while I made my way to the bathroom.

The cruiser was gone, as expected, and my lone '58 Chevy truck stood gallantly on our driveway. I boarded it carefully and set my bag down on the passenger seat, while setting myself up for yet another day.

A silver sparkle greeted me in the parking lot of good ol' Forks High School and my heart skipped a menacing beat. Impatient honks broke through my illusion – assuming that it is an illusion – and I randomly chose and parked, crookedly, in haste.

By the look on Jessica's face under the cafeteria shelter, it seemed as though another episode of her dramatic relationship with Mike had been unleashed. I internally readied myself for the exclamation to come.

"Sooo," she began without pace, "We made up! It was all so sweet, Bell, you should have been there. Well, you know, hypothetically. It was his sweetest made-up yet." And then ended without pace.

I chuckled. In spite of her anxious habits, Jessica really knew how to forget the natural mood of the weather and remember that days are days, nights are nights, and time will be time. Sometimes, it was refreshing, and I was relieved to find out today wasn't one of the days it wasn't.

We exchanged our goodbyes and promises on social updates in second-period Calculus outside of my first period class. I smiled weakly as I followed her with my eyes. She's been a wonderful confidant and I was even thankful that she's voluntarily walked me to my first class ever since…

For a moment, I'd let myself bow my head in defeated memories that were less distant as I would have hoped, but more quickly braced myself out of it. I was proud to have succeeded, what with such excruciatingly long and vividly difficult practice. I walked familiarly to the back of the classroom, responding to morning greetings and classroom complaints along the way. I purposefully ignored the empty seat next to me, or tried to, anyway. The corner of my eye still reached its sullen range and I narrowed my eyes painfully at the sly memories that threaten to unmask me once more today. I was used to this, or at least I should be. Strangling my recent satisfaction about myself, I instantly felt ashamed, weak with my disabilities.

All of a sudden, I felt dizzy. I should be used to this, as well. I sat up straight, but cupped my cheek in my left hand, my eyes fluttering from the board to my desk and back again.

"With that said and done, let's return to our literary items. Out of five dozens of established rhetorical devices, only about ten are reviewed, five of which I'm sure you've all abandoned in junior high." It must be the teacher, and I… must have fallen asleep.

I blinked my eyes a few times and retrieved my previous posture against my palm. The frenzy, white lights attacked my eyes immediately but I fought back respectively anyway. I tried balancing my forehead on my knuckles instead. Once it begun applying slight stress against the back of my neck, I threw my head irritably back against the wall. That only delivered a bigger stress on the back of my neck. After the massive stress that came with bowing it forward, I gave up and simply decided to pay attention.

A low and strangely easing chuckle fired beside me. I felt a sharp strain on my neck as I twisted my head in the direction of the unknown melodist, but it didn't last long at all.

"Amusing," he sounded, and then he smiled.

My lips hung involuntarily and my eyes stared – Oh, God, tell me they hadn't. Tell me they didn't stare at those captivating, golden magnolia orbs or that silky, pearl skin. Don't tell me they dared try memorizing those dusty pink lips and the way they curled into a crescent shape, revealing teeth as white as snow in the eye of winter. His dark, thick hair was an attractive mess. It hung loosely against his ears and thinned around his beautiful face. The tender tone of his figure curved and bulked in all the right places.

They did, these traitors.

My eyes involuntarily widened and pulled back, making it all the more embarrassing. It's always more embarrassing when you show you're embarrassed because that's when you realize you should be. I was right, for he laughed again. I offered him an agitated look, which only tossed him into a roar, ignoring the control he must have been measuring for himself in respect of the classroom. Just then, I noticed how everyone – or at the least, the girls – already had their eyes on us, or more specifically, him, whoever 'him' was. His unwelcome scene only provoked more heads our way.

"Mister Chandler?" Mr. Bertly inquired. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," the mystery boy managed between hysterics. He gained composure of himself quite easily after that, but his magnificent smile remained and he rubbed his head as he spoke. "I'm sorry about that. What an embarrassing way to start off, huh?"

The girls giggled and the teacher raised a confused eyebrow – confused whether it should be angry or, well, confused. He gave a demanding cough, and everyone's eyes hurriedly faked its obedience to the board once more. Above and beyond that, however, was still the obvious question that's reasonably bothering me now more than it was before.

"It's Callum," he said calmly, his brilliant smile still as persistent, "Callum Chandler."

I hesitated. "Bella."

His smile grew bigger and more or as attractive, but definitely not less. I could tell he was trying to suppress another scene.

"A little hostile, but quite understandable… Bella."

I immediately hated him for making my name sound so irresistible.

"I'm sorry I laughed at you before—"

"So you were laughing at me."

"Well, yes, but had you witnessed your own set of actions, and while so tired!" he looked as though he was replaying it over in his head, "Really, it was adorable." His voice sweetened at the last few words.

"'Adorable' is hardly a preferred adjective to someone past adolescence," I shot coldly. It was a poor disguise for my natural vulnerability.

His eyes drowned in further amusement. I both hated and loved that I was providing such entertainment for this stranger – again, strangely. Somehow, I was glad to see that his smile mirrored his eyes. That was surprising. How long had it been since I felt this way, or even so much as paid attention, to someone's smile? There was either something fishy or incredibly remarkable about this boy. Inside of me, I twisted my emotions in hoping that it would conclusively turn out to be the second one, even though a part of me was still guarded – too guarded, I'd even say. I was far from being able to handle any more surprises, good or bad.

I was relieved when he tilted his head toward the lecture and sunk back against his seat. He planned to behave. I was saved. It was a struggle to let go of the fresh confusion that seemed to engulf me. Answers were always a preference over questions.

The bell rang at that time. At first, it drew me by surprise – I must have slept for a while. I still don't understand where this boy came from and why everybody had been so casual about his abrupt presence. It appeared as though I missed something while I was deep asleep. He was by the door before I could check up on him again. His defined structure was utterly front-cover material as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed casually across his chest, waiting. I gulped; he was looking at me. Hesitation was written all over my posture as I walked toward the exit, inevitably running by him.

"Bella." It was so casual, like we've known each other forever. As if my name was a life-long, childhood inside joke. But he wasn't laughing, nor was he even smiling when he said it. His eyes were still amused, but this time, newly, like he'd just found another token for a scrapbook. He smiled when I made it known that I've acknowledged him, even though I made sure my response was somewhat discouraging. It appeared like he was the one not acknowledging me.

"Where's next class—" he enthused.

"I hardly know you or where you came from or how you got here," I interrupted.

"I don't understand why you're so stingy if that's so." His voice was mildly irritated now.

"Perhaps it's as much of a difficulty for you as it for me to understand how you could be so casual."

"You're not very friendly. Have you even heard of the term?"

I grimaced. "In fact, I have."

"And I bet it wasn't toward you."

I turned to him. I felt my eyebrows narrow forward and my lips press together. He sighed next to me.

"What do you want?" I emphasized the word like its meaning could not have possibly been anything less than poison.

He paused and his face looked distorted like he was thinking. No, deciding either for or against something is more like it. I pulled my face back at his reaction. Finally, he averted his gaze upon me once more. His eyes were smiling again, almost causing a relieved sensation to crowd inside my body – almost. What did I care if this boy wanted me dead? Or otherwise… What did I care if he didn't? Either way, he's done much more than merely bother me today, and it wasn't only the way he presented himself. The thing is, I simply don't understand why my mind's reacting so much to him at all.

"Time," he said plainly.

"What would you need time for?" It was a sincerely curious – and more than reasonable – question.

He only smiled. "Not for me; for you."

Hey, guys! If you've actually read this far, wow... that alone makes me ecstatic. This is my first fanfiction, triggered by my superb addiction with this book. So please rate&review. I'd appreciate any kind of comments or critiques. : An update shall be up soon -- summer's the sha-zam!