Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. No really, I don't.
Beauty and the Geek
Chapter 1- Questioning Myself
Walking down the bright white hallways with my head tilted toward the floor, darting between the throng of students crowding the way to my destination. Florescent lights were mirrored in the white vinyl floors that were scarred with black scuffs from late teens racing toward their classes. Lockers lined the busy halls, their gray metallic paint brought to life the dullness and depressance that was the time that seemed to stand still between classes.
While most students rejoiced in the six minutes we were given to move between the building of Forks High, I dreaded the sound of the first bell and drew a sigh of relief and the second which brought all others sighs of discontent.
The safety of the classroom was my oasis, a paradise of right and wrong answers and endless knowledge discovered by the greatest minds of our time and generations before us. There I was freed from second-guessing myself, and from others worsening the matter by making sure my every flaw, my every imperfection and sub-standard outward appearance was clear to me.
I did not disagree with them, and made no effort to change their opinions, but every insignificant stab of their teasing remarks created a scar, and soon I would have pink marks all over my pale skin. Though the pain from these mental wounds had passed, evidence lingered still of hurt they had caused.
Slipping through the light-wood doorframe I made my way to my seat through the empty aisles. Two others had arrived before I had, and their noses were buried in their textbooks, reviewing the pages they had practically memorized.
I slid my green backpack off my shoulder and took out the books that were required. Laying the heavy textbook on my desk that had white layers across the top that read 'Chemistry', and flipping through the pages, the corner of my eye revealed to me that the teacher was approaching.
He was a tall man, with thinning red hair crowning his nearly bald head and forming a small beard along his chin. A think grouping of keys were hooked to the belt loop in his jeans, making his presence known wherever he walked. The school t-shirt he was wearing was partially covered by a bright blue windbreaker, and his white tennis shoes squeaked softly on the floor.
Still facing the black lab table that sat two, I began setting up the various tubes and glass containers needed for the experiment that was about to be conducted.
"Hello, Mr. Cullen." he said to me in his somewhat loud voice.
"'Morning Mr. Erickson." I replied respectfully. I usually liked talking with the teachers, just not in the presence of my peers; they had enough fuel to burn me with and were in no need of more.
"How was the homework last night?" It was a strange question to be asked, for he knew as well as anyone that academics were never strenuous on me.
"It was fine. Why?" I looked up at him as he took a seat next to me. His expression worried me; had I earned a failing grade? Impossible. Had I missed a homework? Impossible.
"Are you going to the spring dance, Edward?" Now the concern I had felt became confusion. Why was my teacher asking about my social activities, or lack there of?
"Well, you are usually one of the first in my room, you get all your work done, you do the extra-credit, and you have 104 in my class. I never see you around town, unless you are in the library and well, this is hard to say. Edward, you are only young once- don't barricade yourself from the world. Any university would be crazy not to accept you, but you know, there are some other things equally as important as future plans." His speech ended and left me confused.
"Like what?" was all I could muster.
"Like the present." He gave me a pat on the shoulder and walked back to his wooden desk. What did he mean by that? Weren't teachers supposed to encourage what I do? Weren't they the ones that said study first and play later? What had I done wrong when I was doing everything right? I had never known someone to disappoint an adult by being an honor student with good grades.
Stunned, I sat silently without having moved when the bell jarred me from my 'episode'. Mr. Erickson began his lecture as I was pulling out my notebook. Quickly I jotted down some of what he had said to me on the back page, hoping I would have time later to think about what it meant, and this is how it read, remembering only one line in peticular:
he said something about only seeing me at the library, and if i was going to the dance. it was weird. he sat next to me
he said something about things that are important as the future, and i said "like what?"
"Like the present." he said
After scribbling what I remembered in my hideous scrawl, I turned my focus back to class. Whatever it was that he meant, it would have to wait.
Two classes and an hour of assignments later, the dreary cafeteria became my surroundings. The wood that was glued onto the walls was being washed by one of the custodians who were unlucky enough to be put in charge of scraping Friday's tuna surprise off the walls. Sliding into the white table that was too familiar to me, I dug into my backpack for the crinkled brown bag inside.
A few others that were considered to be in the same low social standing were eating with their heads still buried in their homework. Pencils were stuck above their ears, braces lined their teeth and glasses hid their focused eyes behind the glare reflecting from the lenses. Their clothes were cheap and plain, some even ill-fitting, and their hair were frizzy and uncombed.
I bit into my sandwich, wishing the world was blind. While I myself did not tend to socialize with them, it was because I did not socialize with anyone, the other students ignored them and tortured them because they were not concerned with such trivial things as fashion and looks, one trait that I shared with them.
However, the difference between me and the other geeks/nerds/dorks were that they did not care what people thought and were not affected by their cruel words, where every hostile syllable that crossed their lips about me haunted my every step, my every movement, and every sentence I wrote and question I answer correctly.
Having finished my lunch silently, I slung my backpack over my shoulders and stepped into the bitter cold that awaited me outside. Twenty minutes were left to pass before the bell would chime once more, and when normally I would sit myself outside my next class, I took a seat outside in the desolate campus. The icy chill reddened my cheeks and nose, awaking the millions of senses that I knew lay in the skin, the largest organ...
I didn't take it to heart what my chemistry teacher had said, or even accused me of being. All I knew was that this was the only way I knew how to be , and it wasn't worth the effort to change it.