Chapter One: Not-So-New Bully on the Block

"Bella Swan," says Ms. Cope, my humanities teacher. Her ever-present glasses, which are perched on the end of her nose, look like something a 1980's serial killer would wear. Her short brown hair is clipped too short for the shape of her round face, making it look thicker than it actually is. Her pale green eyes look unemotional and inexpressive at the roll sheet in front of her, which just makes the whole situation even duller.

"Here," I said, throwing up my hand briefly in acknowledgement. I lower my eyes back to my lap, where my favorite book, Wuthering Heights, is hidden. I nibble at my lip as conflict begins in the story—the lead character, Catherine, seemed to be closing herself off to the love of her life, Heathcliff, in an effort to protect herself. Sickening, I thought to myself, hastily shutting the book and returning it to my backpack.

Quickly, I turn and look to my left and shoot Alice Cullen, my best friend and partner in crime, a small smile. Our mothers met when they were eleven, and we ourselves met in preschool. She has her black hair cut into a pixie cut, and seriously had the whole hipster look down to a T. I've taken to flattening my own unimaginative brown hair, which is just past my waist, and wearing purple lipstick to school. I know that Alice thinks that I'm going through a phase, but I call her 'Silly Alice' and she knows that's when to cool it.

"Your essays are due today," Ms. Cope informs us easily, snapping me out of my reverie and immediately facing forward again, watching as she has finished calling roll for everyone.

I retrieve my little stack of papers from my backpack and quickly look them over, noticing Alice doing the same thing. My name, Bella Swan, is on the top; 'humanities' is directly under it; with the date—April 7, 2013 on the top; and finally, perfectly centered, "Why Reading Should Matter to This Generation", a.k.a. my title, is just under that.

I peek over at Alice's title again, because it really gives me the shivers to think about. "My Own Walk on the Moon" it says below the date, subject, and her name. It has to do with the fact that her dad is an astronomer and named a star after her—which was, first and foremost, the butt of jokes ever since middle school—but also because I know she plans on being an astronaut one day in the future.

I hand my own paper to Ms. Cope as she comes around to pick them up and hastily take out my planner. I cross off 'Turn in essay', as I've already completed that task and tap my eraser against it as a bit of impatience bubbles through me as I wait for Ms. Cope to get back to the front of the classroom. She wears a green dress that I'm sure is meant to match her eyes, but it keeps riding up on her hips in a most unattractive manner.

"As I'm sure you remember," Ms. Cope begins as she turns to the white board to write down today's classwork, "this essay is going to be for your second midterm grade. You will receive this essay back within a couple of weeks. And this time next month, you'll be writing your final essay." She has selected a blue pen and is writing down: What does the fact that we want time travel to exist mean? "Does anyone want to provide an answer?"

Hardly know what I'm doing, my hand shoots up.

"Bella?" asks Ms. Cope.

"We always want things we can't have," I reply, knowing that my answer is totally true, because of my curviness over slimness, which is what most boys in Tempus High School seemed to like when it came to the opposite sex.

My stomach always stuck out farther than my too-small breasts, and I wondered when I would thrive in this body I'd supposedly been blessed with. At sixteen, I wasn't any closer to fully developing than a piece of paper; I was a complete and total wallflower in terms of beauty. It was at times like this that I wished Charlie from Perks of Being a Wallflower was alive, really alive, and not just stuck in a book. Although maybe, since he was clearly interested in Sam, he wouldn't be interested in a less-than-attractive junior like me.

I spoke up then, not wanting any ill-will directed towards me, but knew that Ms. Cope didn't like an incomplete answer, let alone a thought process. "We're constantly looking for something better—the next big thing, if you will—and sometimes that better thing can be construed as defying the odds. I know it's crazy, but there are things that I want, but I know I can't have, so I've stopped questioning them."

"Nicely put, Bella," Ms. Cope says approvingly. She turns to write something else on the board, and I see then that she is writing down, word for word, what I just said. "Oh, dear," she says then, shaking her pen back and forth. "It looks like I need to get a new pen from the supply room," she said, annoyance at the back of her tone. "Thought I had a T.A. for these kind of trivial things… I'll be right back, guys and girls. Don't destroy the classroom," she tosses over her shoulder as she leaves the room.

"Like Bella could ever question anything," I hear to my right.

I turn and see Jessica Stanley snickering alongside her pair of minions, Angela Weber and Lauren Mallory. I purse my lips and turn away from their laughter. They'd tortured me with mind games for as far as I could remember. It certainly did not make things better that they were all very attractive.

"She's so hideous, it's a scream," Jessica goes on. "I'd bet she wouldn't know what to wish for, if she ever got a wish, which she wouldn't."

My cheeks burn as I peek over at them again.

"Oh look!" cries Jessica, her face a pretty mask of glee at the expression I'm currently giving her. "It looks like we've hurt her feelings! She looks like a dead fish when she's sad, doesn't she, girls?" she asks, turning to Angela and Lauren.

"God, will you three just shut up?!" demands Alice, standing up and walking towards them, a literal ball of rage, due to her short stature.

Jessica knew not to mess with Alice—she literally went white.

Alice's older brother, Edward, is the captain of the football and wrestling teams, and Alice is the Junior Student Body President, so everyone knows that they're not a family to be messed with—mess with them, and you mess with a whole lot of "important" people. They also had younger, identical twin brother and sister, in the freshman class, who are named Alec and Jane, who are the faces of music and cheerleading respectively.

I stand up and stand slightly behind Alice, knowing when to intervene if anything decides to go wrong. He may be a senior and totally gorgeous—and more than likely unavailable, emotionally, anyway—but Edward has taught me everything he knows. Hell, I'm probably like a sister to him at this point, and Tanya Denali is always around him, so they're probably a thing...

Alice's hands are balled into fists. "You know what happens if you mess with Bella," she growls at the trio of girls, who look completely shame-faced. "She's like family to me. Remember last week when Edward threw your precious brother off him in wrestling when he bent the rules, then had the team tackle him when he decided to get further out of line? I'm not that easy, Jessica, and you know it. You know I could take all three of you at once—and Bella could, too, so don't be looking at her like that—so just lay off her, okay?"

"Alice…" I begin, not wanting to draw attention to myself.

She turns around, wanting to obey me, but also wanting to show her dominance within the school system, and turns back and steps in a determined manner towards Jessica, which makes her flinch, her manicured nails gripping her Prada bag. I watch as Alice chuckles and turns away from her, shaking her head. I give her a questioning look, and my best friend smirks. "Coward," she says to me, in a moment of triumph.

. . .

Alice and I are sitting at lunch when Edward, Alec, and Jane come to join us at our round table by the window. The skies are overcast, which is normal Seattle weather, with ordinary gray clouds lining the sky. The only reason Alec and Jane—who are fourteen—have the same lunch with us is that the pair of them are honor students. Apparently, Tempus High School believes that honor students deserve to eat lunch first because of how much brain power they use before noon, or due to the benefits they bring to the school.

I've pushed my lunch tray—containing chicken fingers, a Caesar salad, French fries, and a brownie—away from me. I put my head into my hands and begin rubbing my temples. But the pain won't go away.

"What's wrong?" asks Jane, sliding in closer to me.

Alice looks at me—at least, I know her enough to know that she is—and nods, though I can only see the gray table beneath my elbows. "Jessica gave her a hard time," she says quietly.

"What happened?" asks Alec.

"Well, Jessica called her 'ugly'—again!—and said that when Bella is sad that she resembles a…well…"

"A dead fish," I say through my teeth, the anger seeping through them. "I apparently now resemble something from a food group I don't even consume," I say, slamming my head down completely on the table.

There is a second slam of something, which wobbles the table, which makes me pick my head up to investigate further. I am looking at Edward, who is livid with anger. His eyes are blazing, it seems, and he is now looking at his hand in shock, but not at the fact that he's made a massive dent in the table. I inadvertently stop it from moving, but the crack keeps growing and growing until it stops at my fingertips. I raise my eyes slowly to him—this god of a young man that I've come to love more than a brother—and part my lips.

"Edward?" I ask.

"What?"

"You…the table," I whisper.

He lowers his eyes and sees the damage he's done. "Geez," he whispers, shaking his head back and forth. "Wow…when I get mad…I get mad…"

"All this because of something some stupid girl said to Bella?" asks Alec, looking from Edward to me.

Edward's eyes drift from me to Alec. "Jessica is more than a stupid girl," says Edward vehemently, shaking his head at his younger brother. "She's a coward. Bella has something that Jessica doesn't."

I blink. "Seriously?" I ask. "You can't mean that! She's gorgeous and cunning and clever and just look at me! Look at me, all of you! I'm only famous around here because I skipped tenth grade! I don't have anything." I rise to my feet, just as it looks as if Edward is going to say something that would be construed as totally Hollywood style. "Save it," I nearly spit at him as hastily I pick up my lunch tray in one fell swoop. "Tanya will probably need it," I say, trying to keep my tears out of my eyes as I dump the uneaten food and run out of there.