Author's Note: This is dedicated to my best friend Belinda. John was the first to come up with the concept of Jordan/Belinda = Bella/Edward. Serene joined in and pretty soon we had the whole cast. I took on the project of writing this version of Twilight for your (belated) Christmas present. I hope you enjoy, Belinda!

Chapter 1: First Sight

My mother drove me to the airport. I was wearing my favorite shirt – muddy grey that had been stretched out so the neckline hung to my chest. I was bringing my favorite jacket, the brown corduroy with the clips attached.

In Humboldt County of northwest California, a small town called Arcata exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was to Arcata that I now exiled myself – an action that I took with great horror. I detested Arcata.

Gabe picked me up from the airport and it was a half-hour drive from there to Arcata. I hadn't brought much with me and it fit easily into his cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he told me once we were en route.

"What kind of car?" I hoped it wasn't another Honda Civic. My mother only bought Civics.

"It's a truck actually, a Chevy." Whew.

"And I kinda already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift," he continued.

Wow. Free. Then I'm cool with it. Since it isn't a Honda Civic.

"That's nice, Dad. I really appreciate it."

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled.

Once we got home, it only took one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I had the same room since I was born. The only changes Gabe had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. He had now added a computer so I could stay in touch with my mother.

Northcoast Preparatory Academy had a frightening total of one hundred and forty students. There were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. These kids had been bonding since freshman year. I would be the new boy from the big capitalist city.

If I had looked like a boy from the big city, I could work this to my advantage. But I would never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond – athletic – but no. I was short, with mousy hair. Yeah, I play basketball well-enough, but not well enough to attract attention.

By the end of my third class, I was convinced that this was my own personal living hell. And the worst part? Everyone else seemed to think that NPA was paradise, some sort of "community" and "family" experience. What hippies! And the teachers! Most of them seemed alright, but some of them… Like the Spanish teacher Ana. I can't stand her. I've spent one hour with her and I can't stand her. We call our teachers by their first names here.

They don't have a cafeteria. It's the same thing as their gym. Did I mention that the campus is in a Methodist church? I don't believe this crap. A boy in my English class decided to eat lunch with me in the square of dead grass they call the "courtyard." What do I mean, my English class? He's in all my classes except Spanish. You can't get away from people in this school. Luckily I haven't made any enemies. Yet.

It was there, sitting on damp grass in the courtyard, trying to make conversation with this guy, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the courtyard, as far away from where I sat as possible, which wasn't that far considering the size of the school. There were five of them, two boys and three girls. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a lunch packed from home untouched in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look that much alike. I mean, five of them had dark hair, but even their hair wasn't similar. Of the two boys, one was big – much taller than me and stockier, with dark, curly hair. The other was tall, too, but leaner, with dark copper hair. Both looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.

The girls were the opposites. Not one of them was comparable to even my short height. The tallest was probably 3 inches shorter than me. She had short dark brown hair that flipped from one side to the other as she talked. The next was nearly the same height. She had long dark hair that was a mix of straight hair, waves, and tight curls. The last girl looked different than all the rest, shorter, with stick-straight Asian hair. Maybe that was it, she was Asian? No, there was something about her. She had a surprisingly nice tan for this sunless-area, though not as nice as the ones you saw on albinos in Utah.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them had pale quality to their face, the palest of anyone living in sunless Arcata. They all had dark eyes and dark shadows under those eyes – purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night. The workload at NPA couldn't be that horrible, could it?

But all this is not why I couldn't look away. They had an attractive quality about them that even I, sexy god that I am, envied. The girl with the short hair rose with her lunch – unbitten pomegranate, untouched bread – and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed, until she dumped her tray and glided out of the courtyard, faster than I would have thought possible.

"Who are they?" I asked the boy from my English class, whose name I'd forgotten even though the principal had made everyone go around and share their names with me. I hadn't even bothered looking up, or I'd know who that strange group of students was.

As he looked up to see who I meant suddenly she looked over at us, the Asian one. She looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then her dark eyes flickered to mine. She looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my gaze. In that brief flash of a glance, her face held nothing of interest – it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

"That's Belinda and Joshua Cullen, and She'ifa and Nick Hale. The one who left was Raquel Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife Terra." He said this under his breath.

I glanced sideways at the Asian girl, who was now throwing fruit snacks into the air for the auburn-haired boy to catch in his mouth. Her mouth was moving very quickly, her perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt she was speaking quietly to them.

Strange names for some of them. She'ifa, Belinda, Raquel, names grandmothers had, except She'ifa. What was that? But maybe that was "in" here. I finally remembered my neighbor was called Sean, not common, but not as unusual. There was a Sean in my History class back home.

"They are…very nice-looking," I said as one of the underclassmen girls popped up besides me.

"Yes," she agreed with a giggle. "They're all together though – Nick and Raquel? And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked, "They don't look related…"

"They're not. Dr. Cullen is really young. They're all adopted. The Hales are foster children."

"They look old for foster children."

"They are now. Nick and She'ifa are eighteen and sixteen, but they've been since Mrs. Cullen since they were little. She's their aunt or something."

"Have they always lived here?"

"No, they just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

As I examined them, the youngest Cullen, looked up to meet my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in her expression. As I looked away, it seemed to me that her glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the girl with the black hair?" She still looked frustrated.

"That's Belinda. She's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. She doesn't date. Apparently none of the guys here are good enough for her," Sean sniffed.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful – even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch.

Sean and I went to Biology next. Despite the size of the small class, the teacher had a seating plan. Everyone was in pairs. Except Belinda Cullen. When the teacher, Bryan?, sent me to go sit by her, she suddenly went very rigid in her seat. She looked at me and she looked…angry? Hostile? Generally pissed off? When I sat down, she scooted her chair as far away from me as possible, as if I smelled bad. Hey, I took a shower that morning! Just in case, I sniffed a bit, but I couldn't smell anything. Rusty maybe, not a horrible smell.

As soon as we were excused, she jumped up from her chair and hurried out of the room. What the hell? I decided to check in at the office before I left school. Talking to the principal was Belinda, telling her that she had decided that she didn't actually want to take a second year of Biology. This couldn't me about me. Something else must have happened before I entered the classroom. It was impossible that she could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me. Or maybe not. Belinda turned around and looked right at me with piercing, hate-filled eyes.

"Never mind," she told the principal. And she left without another look at me.

"Well, how was your first day, Jordan?" she asked.

"Fine," I lied. Then I rushed outside to my truck and drove home.

Chapter 2: Open Book

Belinda Cullen was not at school at all. All morning I feared lunch, fearing her bizarre glares. When I made it to the courtyard with Sean, trying not to look for her, but failing miserably, I saw that her four siblings were sitting together in their same corner, and she was not there. As I listened to his and Analiese's chatter as I waited for Belinda to show up. I hoped that she would ignore me. She never showed up.

I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that she was absent because of me. It was rather egocentric, but hell, I couldn't stop thinking about her. When the school day was finally over, I followed my "friends" out to the parking lot. I heard Sean say something about how Belinda never misses school. Why wasn't she at school then?

Then I noticed that the Cullens and Hales were getting into their car. Of course it was the most expensive car in the lot, a shiny new Ford Fusion. Not only were they clearly well-bred, but they had money. Bourgeoisie.

Last night, I realized Gabe didn't cook much beside fried eggs and bacon. I told him that I would be cooking from now on. Seriously, what is it with my parents and a chronic inability to cook? I never even let my mom into the kitchen back in Utah.

After dinner, I decided to read War and Peace – the novel we were currently studying in English – yet again for the fun of it. I liked Russian novels.

"How was school?" Gabe asked as he ate his dinner, "Make any friends?"

"Well, this boy Sean is in most of my classes and there's this girl named Analiese who follows me around a lot. Everyone seems okay," I paused before continuing, "Do you know the Cullen family?"

"Sure, Jack Cullen is a great man."

"They…the kids…are a little different. They don't seem to fit in very well at school."

Gabe surprised me with the longest speech I've ever heard him make:

"People in Arcata," he muttered, "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could work wherever he wanted, make ten times the salary he gets here. We're lucky to have him, lucky his wife wanted to live here. Those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts about all those adopted teenagers, but I haven't had a single problem with any of them. That's more than I can say about some of the children who have lived her since they were born. And they stick together like a family – camping trips every other weekend…Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."

"They seemed nice to me. I just notice they stick to themselves."

We finished eating in silence.

The rest of the week was uneventful. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, all the students at the school.

Belinda Cullen didn't come back to school.

The next Monday was good. People waved to me when they saw me in the morning and I easily passed my pop quiz on Tolstoy.

"Wow. It's raining!" Analiese cried, running out into the parking lot to spin in the rain. There went my good day. Especially because at NPA people still eat outside when it's raining. There are some covered areas in the courtyard, but it's still cold. I couldn't help but glance at the corner where the Cullens always sat. There were five people there again. They were laughing. Belinda, Josh, and Nick all had their hair completely dripping wet. Raquel and She'ifa were leaning away as Josh tried to shake his soaked hair at them. They were enjoying the rain just like everyone else.

"Belinda Cullen is staring at you," Analiese told me.

"I have to go to Bio," I told her, getting up and escaping the dreary weather.

"Hello," a voice said as Belinda Cullen dropped into the chair beside me, "My name is Belinda. You're Jordan."

"Sure," I muttered.

Unfortunately, Bryan had a lab planned for that class. I watched as she wrote our names on the top of the sheet. She had perfect handwriting.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out, noticing the subtle difference in her face.

"No."

"Oh. I thought there was something different about your eyes."

There was. They were black before, but now they were dark golden brown. I must be crazy.

"Why did you move to Arcata?" she asked.

"Family," I replied, not wanting to go into the details.

"You're unhappy here though?" she asked.

"I guess."

"You made a sacrifice," she persisted.

"I'm such an open book," I muttered.

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read."

"You must be a good reader then."

"Usually."