A/N: Rewriting one of my old fics. I haven't even read Twilight fanfiction in so long, so please bear with me as I try to get my groove back with this world. This chapter is extremely close to the text to help get me back in the swing of it, but it'll get less so as I continue. We'll see how this goes.
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Chapter One – Green
SUNDAY, JANUARY 16, 2005
Forks, Washington must be the soggiest place in the whole country. The rain never stops, the temperature never drifts above the sixties, and everything is in shades of green. It's like an alien planet compared to hot, dry, tan Phoenix, Arizona. Whenever Bella and I had to come up during summers so we could see Charlie, our dad, we weren't exactly subtle about our distaste for the small town. Three years ago, after we turned fourteen, we finally convinced Charlie to meet us in perfectly temperate California instead.
Renee, our mom, remarried to Phil, though. He's a baseball player, so travels a lot, and we could tell that Mom was sad that she couldn't go with him because she had to take care of us. So, we volunteered to go live with Charlie for the rest of our high school career so that she could be with her beau. All three of our parents were confused about our decision, but pleased nonetheless. Charlie even already registered us for school and said he'd help us get a car. No public transportation in itty-bitty Forks, apparently.
"Goodbye sun, goodbye heat, goodbye vigorous city," Bella mumbles as she pulls her parka over her long brown hair. She'd worn a sleeveless lace top as a farewell gesture, an unfortunate decision as we step off our second plane into the clean Olympic air. During our layover in Seattle, the air-conditioned terminals were comfortable. This tiny Port Angeles airport is just straight up chilly.
Grabbing our luggage from the designated area and heading outside into the drizzle, we only take two steps before we see Charlie waiting for us with the cruiser. To the good people of Forks, Mr. Dad is Chief Swan. Our primary motivation for getting our own car despite limited funds is the cruiser—nothing slows down traffic like red and blue lights on your roof.
"It's really good to see you, Bells, Em." He awkwardly one-arm hugs each of us, then loads our bags into the trunk. It's a light job, two suitcases each plus our backpacks. Most of our clothes back in Phoenix weren't exactly Washington-proof. We kept a couple pairs of shorts and tanks out of spite, but the rest comes out to a few pairs of jeans and slew of layerable shirts. Neither of us are really much of "stuff" people, so except for some books for Bells and paintings for me, we didn't bring much else.
"You too, Dad," we reply in unison. We're not allowed to call him Charlie to his face.
He chuckles at us—it always creeps him out when we do the twin thing. "How's Renee?"
"Mom's fine. She says hi." I slide into the backseat of the cruiser, partially obstructed from my sister and dad by the cage-like partition. Rather her up front than me, though. Bella takes after Charlie in the talking department—as in, she's not a talker. Really, I think she got most of Charlie's personality genes when we were in utero; the introversion, the strong sense of responsibility, the patience. Conversely, I inherited Renee's flakier, more hot-headed brand of independence. And while we all grow naturally dark brown hair, I got the recessive gene to turn my eyes hazel instead of chocolate like Bella and Renee. Otherwise I look a little more like Charlie, with a squarer jaw and cleft chin and more peak to my eyebrows, and Bella got the heart-shaped face and straighter brows of our mother. The only way I don't look part of a perfect set is the beigey blonde I dye my head with.
"I found a really good car for you two, really cheap," he announces. Bella and I share a stare.
"What kind of car?" I ask.
Charlie glances in the rear-view mirror to see my narrowed eyes. "It's a Chevy, a two-door, but big, a SUV."
"Where did you find it?" Bella tries to sound optimistic, lilting her question mark too high.
"Do remember Billy Black down at La Push?"
"No," Bella answers, totally lost.
"The tiny native reservation on the coast. The dude who went fishing with us, summers way back. I accidentally caught his face on the fly and scarred his jaw," I remind her.
She nods as the memory surfaces in her mind. That explains why she doesn't remember him. She does a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from her memory. Plus, I think she fainted when the cut on his face; that in itself would make her forget a little something or two.
"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continues as he tries to ignore recalling that incident, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his car for cheap."
"What year is it?" I grimace, envisioning some bulky clunker built in the fifties that couldn't go past sixty miles per hour anymore.
He looks a little sheepish, scratching his mustache. "Well, Billy's done some work on it, it's only a few years old, really. And I think he bought it sort of close to new. It's, ah, a 1976 Blazer, blue with black insides. And he's pretty good with cars, if you ever run into trouble with it—not that I think you will, but, you know, just as a precaution."
Bella and I both relax under our seatbelts. The car is still over a decade older than us, but not nearly as terrible as feared. And earlier this year I convinced Phil to show me some under-the-hood know-how so that, hopefully, in minor breakdowns I can do something about it. My dear clumsy twin just has to look at a wrench wrong and has to get stitches. But someone's gotta know how to change a tire in this sisterhood, so here I am.
"Okay. How cheap is cheap?" Bella asks, ever the brains of our operation.
"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you as a homecoming gift." Charlie peeks at her sideways with a hopeful smile.
Wow, free.
"You didn't need to do that," Bells and I say together. Her way is much more sincere and mine more for formalities. She grits her teeth at me, making me shrug innocently, then she turns back to Charlie. "We were going to buy ourselves a car."
"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He stares ahead at the road, uncomfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. Bella, again showing just whose daughter she really is, looks out the window when she responds.
"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. We really appreciate it." No need to add that us being happy in Forks is impossible. He doesn't need to suffer along with us. I pipe in my thanks and start to wrap a hug from around the seat, until remembering the perp-partition is still in fact there.
"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbles, embarrassed by our thanks.
We exchange a few more pleasantries about the weather (wet, dim) then that's pretty much it for conversation, and we look out our respective windows. The landscape is beautiful, we can't deny that. Lush to the extreme, fresh to death. Fairy tale quality scenery. If it was sunny and dreamy, instead of constantly soaking, I could really love it. That, and if it was a real city and not practically a parish.
Eventually we make it to Charlie's. He still lives in the small, two-bedroom house that he bought with Renee in the early days of their marriage, that Bella and I spent our infancy in. And there, parked on the street in front of the house, is our new car. Navy paint faded with years, with a small dent in the bumper, a two-inch crack at the top of the windshield, and mismatched hubcaps. The vehicle looks pretty substantial – it would hardly be demolished in an accident, probably rough up the opposing car pretty well. It could be better, but it isn't half bad. I can tell from her expression that Bella really likes it.
"Thank you, Dad!" We grin at him, again speaking as one. The first day of school tomorrow will be much less horrific now that we neither have to walk two miles in the rain nor get a ride in the Chief's cruiser.
"I'm glad you like it," Charlie says gruffly, squirming again. "C'mon, let's get your bags inside while the rain's still light."
It takes only one trip to get all our stuff upstairs. One of the best things about Charlie is that he doesn't hover. He leaves us at the landing to unpack and get settled—a feat that would've been impossible for our mother. We head to the west bedroom that faces over the front yard. The room is familiar, still smells faintly of Bella's sugary chamomile and, what she claims is, my fruity cinnamon. The dark hardwood floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowing lace curtains billowing around the window – these were all part of our childhood. The only changes Charlie ever made were switching the double-crib with two full beds and a desk as we grew. Said desk now perches a second-hand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from our mother, so that she could easily get in touch with us easily, before I'd gotten us a laptop last year. The rocking chair from our baby days is situated in the corner.
There's only one bathroom at the top of the stairs, which we will all have to share. We try not to dwell too much on that fact. The good news is that Bella hardly ever bothers with makeup, and I stick to more basic products, so I just put those materials in a small caddy on top of our pine dresser and resolve to purchase a little vanity mirror. Natural light from the window is better anyway…if the clouds ever part, that is.
We make plans to go room-shopping, just for the mirror and new curtains and some candles, then fall into a comfortable silence. It's nice for it to be just the two of us, to not to have to smile or look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wrap my arms around Bella's shoulders and nuzzle my cheek against hers. Neither of us are in the mood to go on a real crying jag. Better to save it for bedtime, when we have to think about the coming morning.
Forks High School has a staggering total of only three hundred and fifty-seven, now fifty-nine, students; there were more than seven hundred people in our year alone back home. All of these kids have grown up together, their parents grown up together, grandparents even. We'll be the new girls from the big city, curiosities. I look down at my circled arms and Bella's hand on my elbow. With our pale skin, no doubt people are gonna ask if we're really from Arizona. Because of my sister's wealth of physical incoordination and my willful lack of competitiveness, we were never the athletic sort. Bella likes literature. I like art. The indoors has always been our friend.
I give my sister a squeeze then let go so she can go shower first, and hope she doesn't feel my eyes on her back as she walks away. I'm worried for her about school. She's never been great at making friends. Never been able to find her niche with anyone, especially people our own age. Renee was probably her best friend outside of myself, and even then, it was still a parent-child relationship, though often flipped. Only she and I have ever been in harmony…but never precisely on the same page. I've always felt content in our own little world—other people are okay, having amicable acquaintances is nice, but knowing I have at least this one real soulmate is enough for me. Bella, on the other hand, seems to have been born lonely.
MONDAY, JANUARY 16, 2005
Neither of us sleep well, even after we're done crying and Bella climbs into my bed. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof won't fade into the background. Bella pulls my faded old quilt over her head and later the pillow, too.
"Stop hogging, Bells." I yank the pillow back and stuff it under my own head, but we still can't fall asleep until well after midnight, when the rain finally settles to a sprinkle.
My eyelids creep open of their own accord, my twin-sense tingling. I see her standing before the window, looking a lot more awake than I feel, and I silently force myself up and step behind her. Thick fog is all we can see out our window, the claustrophobia slinking upon us. You can never see the sky here.
"It's like a cage," I whisper. Bella jumps, startled by my ninja skills. She nods blankly once her heartbeat slows down again. Suddenly she whips her eyes toward me.
"You're awake? You're not snoozing another ten?"
I glare halfheartedly at her. "You woke me up when you got out of bed…you took the covers with you and I got cold," I gesture to the blankets that on the floor. She blushes and apologizes, then goes to get ready. Once she's out of the way of the window, I lean close so my forehead is nearly touching the glass. Chill radiates from it, lifting goosebumps on my arms. With the gray covering everything on the other side, I feel like I could fall right out the window into nothingness. Honestly, that's what moving to Forks feels like in general.
I release my staring contest with the window and trade places with Bella, who returns from the bathroom. She's already dressed, looking comfortable and unassuming in her dark blue jumper and sandy jeans. Taking my makeup caddy with me, I quickly throw on some mascara, lip gloss, and a dusting of blush. I wonder if Bells would let me rose her cheeks a little too—our shared paleness looks more pallid on her because of the dark hair. I'll sneak attack her after breakfast. First, I need to make sure I do not make the Show Up To School In My Underwear dream a reality. I scurry back to our bedroom and rifle through our wardrobe, plucking black jeans and an olive pullover. I look around the floor, but it seems that Bella already claimed the Converse, so I decide on the short brown biker boots and thump them down the stairs.
Breakfast with Charlie is a quiet event, since I'm still too tired to strike up a conversation. He wishes us luck at school. We thank him but exchange a glance: we don't think much of this good luck thing – it's the first day at a new high school, how can we? Charlie leaves first, off to the police station that is his wife and family. Once we're alone, we sit at the old square table in two of the three mismatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets Renee painted to bring some sunshine to the house, and white linoleum floor. Nothing has ever changed, except the growing accumulation of our school portraits on the mantle over the little fireplace in the matchbox living room, next to Charlie and Renee's wedding photo. It is becoming uncomfortably clear that he's never gotten over our mom.
"Sunshine yellow is too cheery this early in the morning," I groan, letting my head drop onto the table, barely missing my bowl of Fruit Loops. Bella snickers at me and bites off another piece of toast, checking the clock.
"Come on, we should get there a little early so that we have time to review our schedules and such." She picks up her plate and sets it in the sink, then waits for me to shove the remains of my cereal down my throat before I come and lay my empty bowl in as well. "Awake yet?"
"No, but I can feel myself getting a bit perkier. Is there a Starbucks in this town?"
"I highly doubt it."
"Why can't we have nice things?"
"Forks has everything but that. Go do your final business so we can get this show on the road."
Two minutes later I slide in front of her and flourish a brush across her face. She smacks it out of my hand, but the deed is done: my tamest shade of pink blush livens up her cheeks just enough. After getting scolded for scaring her, we don our matching rain jackets and I grab the car keys.
"Dibs on wheel!" I laugh gaily, catching myself on the side mirror before I slip on the soaked ground. She laughs as she locks the front door with the hidden key under the eave (Charlie is supposed to make us our copies today while he's at work) and then walks carefully around to the passenger side door, hurrying as safely as possible to get out of the misty wet.
The inside of the truck is dry and clean, but still smells vaguely of tobacco and peppermint. I drive us onto the main road, just above the speed limit, glancing over the dashboard and felling how well it's running and all that car-like business. Bella turns on the radio and finds a Seattle station that played some type of indie music she likes. Very not my own style, but I don't want to upset my dearest twin sister on the first day of school, so I just make a little face at her choice of tunes, but don't argue or change it. She thanks me with a look, to which I wink dramatically back.
Finding the school isn't difficult. Like most other things here, it's just off the highway. It isn't obvious as a school, though; only the sign declaring it to be Forks High School made me stop. It looks like a spattering of matching brick houses. Trees and shrubs surround the buildings, camouflaging how big the campus really may be.
"Anyone else missing the chain-link fences and metal detectors?" Bella whispers. I nod, wondering where the feel of institution is.
I park in front of the first building, which has a small sign over the door reading Front Office. No one else is parked here, so it could be off limits, but I really don't care. We'll move somewhere else once we know the rules, and besides, we're the Chief's kids. Who's gonna snitch on us?
I hop out of the car, slamming the door shut, then wait for my twin by the hood. She takes a deep breath before following suit, linking arms with me as we enter the small structure. Inside is brightly lit and warm. Not unlike any other school office, it's small with outdated carpeting and plastic waiting chairs. Fake plants fill every corner, as if there isn't enough greenery right outside the door. A clock ticks loudly above the plump redhead behind the long counter. The secretary looks up. "Can I help you, chickadees?"
"I'm Emma Swan, and this is my sister, Isabella," I inform her, and awareness lights her eyes. We're expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. The twin daughters of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last. Bella shifts her weight next to me.
"Of course," she says. She digs around through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she finds the ones with our names at the top. "I have your schedules right here, and a map of the school." She spreads several sheets on the counter to show us.
She goes through our classes for us, highlights our lockers in the central cafeteria building, shows us the best route to each one on the map, and gives us slips to have each of our teachers sign, which we're to bring back at the end of the day. Thank the heaven and stars, they've put us in most of the same classes. She pinches a grin at us and hopes, like Charlie, that we like it here in Forks. I beam realistically and Bella smiles back as convincingly as she can.
We go back to the car with our forms; other students are starting to arrive. I drive around the school, following the line of traffic. Bella, I can tell, is glad to see that our car doesn't stand out in any way. The nicest and newest vehicle here is a shiny silver Volvo. A far cry from the latest Mercedes and Porsches that populated our old high school—at home we lived in one of the few low-income neighborhoods zoned in the otherwise affluent Paradise Valley School District. I turn into an open spot across the lot from it.
I notice Bella staring intently at the map, trying to memorize it and not have to have it stuck in front of her nose all day, and laugh. "Chill out, Bells, it's not a big place – we'll be fine," I assure, filching the map from her and tucking it into my bag along with my other papers. She sighs but copies me anyway, slinging her bag over her shoulder, and sucks in a huge breath. I can do this, she lies to herself. No one's going to bite me.
"Just step out of the car, and I'll be right there with you, okay?" I smile at her, hazel eyes boring intensely into her own chocolate ones. She exhales the breath she'd been holding and nods, returning my smile. And with that, she exits the car and pretty much into the spotlight.
We fight the urge to link arms again as we walk to the sidewalk that was crowded with teenagers. Our plain black jackets don't stand out, Bella notes with relief. I, however, wear a tiny, curious smile on my face and assess everyone we pass, memorizing them, and filing them into my mental filter under either Irrelevant or Potential Friend. My cautious ease makes Bella relax a little – she knows that I'm looking out for her.
Once we round the cafeteria, Building Three is easy to spot. A large black "3" is painted on a white square on the east corner. I hear my sister's breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as we approach the classroom. She tries to hold her breath as we follow two unisex windbreakers through the door. I nudge her, whisper to breathe, then squeeze her arm for good measure. She does as told, and thankfully it works. I can't stand it when Bella's distressed.
The room is small, and we follow the example of the people in front of us as they hang their coats on a long row of hooks. They're two girls, one a porcelain-skinned blonde, and the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least our complexion is common here.
We take our slips up the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk has a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawks at us when he sees our names – not an encouraging response – and of course Bella flushes tomato red, and I grit my teeth. He sends us to two empty desks in the back without introducing us to the class. Praise the stars.
While it should be harder for our new classmates to stare at us here in the back, somehow they manage. I meet each of their stares when I notice them, inspecting them just as much, but my twin kept her eyes down on the reading list the teacher gives us. The list is fairly basic; that was comforting. And boring. We've already read everything he's discussing. I wonder if we can just submit some of our old essays if Renee will mail them to us, or if she'll think that was cheating. I sense Bell go through different arguments in her head while the teacher drones on. I stifle a giggle at her concentrated dazing as I doodle aimlessly on the desktop.
When the bell finally rings, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with unfortunate blemishes and hair black as an oil slick leans across the aisle to talk to us.
"You're Isabella and Emma Swan, aren't you?" He looks like the overly helpful, chess club type.
"Yeah, I'm Emma and this is my sister, Bella," I introduce, emphasizing the change of Bell's name. Everyone within a three-seat radius turns to watch us.
"Where's your next class?" he asks.
I look to her, hinting that it's her turn to talk. She has to check the schedule in her bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six." There's nowhere to looking without meeting curious eyes, so she just stares at the paper.
"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way." Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he adds.
Bella smiles tentatively and accepts. Wish I had butted in before that, but…well, no, this is good for Bella. Hopefully she can make some friends this time around.
We put our jackets back on, link arms, and head out into the rain, which has picked up. Eric tries to make small talk with us, to which Bella gives terse answers and sarcasm back. I glance at the eavesdroppers behind us, but otherwise just keep taking in the oddly spaced school. Except for the mobile classrooms our old school added next to the football field to accommodate the increasing number of students, I've never seen a high school be more than one building. Maybe it's a subtle trick to help prepare us for how colleges are laid out.
The rest of the morning passes in about the same fashion. We split after Government, me to Art and her to Psych, then meet back up for Trigonometry. The teacher, Mr. Varner, who we would've hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, is the only one who makes us stand in front of the class and introduce ourselves. Bella stammers, blushes, and trips over her own boots on the way to her seat. I steady her before she falls to the ground though, trying not to laugh.
We start to recognize several of the faces in each class at this point. Overly-helpful Eric is in my Physics class after Trig. One girl, Angela, who's in my Art class, seems really nice. Shy, but sweet. I think we'll get along well, and she and my sister will totally take to each other. Several strangers try to ask me how I like Forks, to which I repeatedly reply, "Definitely gonna take some getting used to. I miss the sun. Yes, it's very different from the sweaty deserts of Arizona. It's weird trading palms for pines. No, I don't have enough sweaters. Just how cold does it get around here? Yeah, Bella's doing her best to adjust, too. Yeah, Bella, not Isabella."
Free from science class, I try to catch Bella at our lockers on the way to lunch, narrowly dodging Eric's assistance, but she isn't there. Hurrying into the canteen, I spot her sitting next to a short girl with huge, dark, curly hair who had sat next to her in math class. Jessie, maybe? The chick talks animatedly to Bella about something, flurrying her hands.
"Hey Bella, wait up!" I come running up from behind them, nearing knocking over several other students on my way. A smile opens my cheeks once I'm within a couple feet of Bella, back where we both feel most comfortable. I turn to what's-her-name to get formally introduced by my twin.
"This is my twin sister, Emma." She nudges me with her elbow. I smile and offer a little wave.
"I'm Jessica Stanley, lovely to meet you. Now come on, you guys can sit with me and my friends." She leads us to the end of a full table and introduces us to them all. They seem impressed by Jessica's bravery for adopting us. Bella instantly forgets their names, but I study and catalog each one carefully as I have with everyone I've met today. Angela is here, and I file a boy named Tyler and a boy named Ben also under Potential Friends. A boy from our Government class, Mike Newton, can't stop staring at my sister. I tentatively sort him into Potential Friends, but make a note to keep an eye on him. The other three seem to be Irrelevant, but the haughty expression on the girl named Lauren makes me want to open a third category called People I'd Guiltlessly Strand In The Wilderness. The boy from earlier, undecided Potential Friend Eric, waves at us from across the room.
It's here, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that we first see them.
They're clustered in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away as possible from where we sit in the long room. Five of them, not talking, or eating from their full trays, or anything – just staring into space, expressionless.
They look nothing alike. Of the three boys, one is big – muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another is taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blonde. The last is lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze hair and is more boyish than the others (who honestly look like they should be in college, hell, even teachers). The girls are opposites. The tall one is statuesque, with a beautiful figure, the kind you see on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue and takes harmful blows to the self-esteem of every other girl in the room. Her hair is golden, gently waving to the middle of her back, and she too looks too old for high school. The short girl is pixie-like, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair is a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.
And yet, with their numerous differences, they're all exactly alike. Every one of them is chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than even Bella and me. They all have very dark eyes despite the range in their hair tones, and dark shadows underneath – purplish, bruise-like shadows. Their faces, so different, so similar, are all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. Faces you never expect to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine, or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It's hard to decide who was the most beautiful, though the Aphrodite-Barbie is probably at the top of my list.
The pixie stands up and dumps her tray in the trash with astounding grace, and a subtle strut that should only belong to an experienced supermodel. She exits the cafeteria without a single word or glance in the direction of her companions.
But all this was not why I can't look away. All I can think is, No. Not again.
"Who are they?" Bella asks Jessica.
As she looks up to see who my twin means – though already knowing, probably, from Bella's tone – suddenly the thin boyish one, the youngest perhaps, looks up at her. He peers at our neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickers to Bella's. He looks away almost immediately, but not quickly enough for a blush to stain her cheeks and for me to catch him emit a small gasp. Jessica giggles at Bella's embarrassment, and explains.
"That's Emmett and Edward Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left is Alice Cullen. They all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife. Dr. Cullen is really young, like late twenties or early thirties, and adopted them all. Only the Hale twins—the blonds—are actually related; they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that. I guess she can't have kids or something. They just moved down here like two years ago from somewhere in Alaska. They're all together though, Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. Edward, with the reddish brown hair, doesn't date though, so don't waste your time."
While my eyes have been swarming their table like a carrion fly, Bella glances back and forth between our table and theirs, trying to not act conspicuous. The Edward one speaks quietly to his siblings. He peeks back at my twin, meeting her stare, causing her to quickly turn away again. His gaze drifts to me, like a chore that just must be done since he's already made eye contact with my sister, and a spark of real emotion ignites: surprise, confusion.
Bella turns to me to see that I've gone bone-pale and my jaw is clenched so tight I'll have a headache for the rest of the day. Her eyebrows furrow. I whip my head towards her, eyes blazing.
"I think I left something in the car, Bells. Come help me look for it," I shoot up in my seat, swinging my bag over my shoulder. She stares up at me, trying to think of what I could've left in the car. "Bella, now."
Her eyes widen at me – I've never used that tone with her. With some of pompous jerks back in Phoenix and with Renee that summer she didn't pay the electric bill, but never with her. She silently stands as well, placing her bag carefully on her shoulder, dazed. I seize her hand and walk briskly towards the exit, my quick pace and firm hold not leaving room for her to stumble.
I, however, turn out to be the careless walker in this case.
"Oops, sorry," a melodic voice apologizes from the granite-hard girl that I slammed into, making Bella smack into my back. The small pixie girl who left a few minutes ago, whose name we now know to be Alice Cullen, thanks to Jessica. She's even more marvelous up close, her voice like chimes and flower petals...if that makes any sense at all.
I glare at her. Alice smiles back at me pleasantly, despite me looking at her like I'm evaluating a threat. I stare into her eyes, thinking about how I can get Bella around her safely. Her eyes...oh thank god.
My grimace melts into a shy grin. "No, I'm sorry, I was the one just rushing, not looking where I was going." I pause for a moment, trying to decide whether to make a pointed comment, then drag my twin around her and out the doors in silence.
When we get to the Chevy, I pretend that whatever I wanted to search for isn't there and finally come up with KitKat as an excuse. Bella rolls her eyes at me, but I don't miss the skeptical and worried glances either – she's never seen me react to anyone like that. Horror and hatred are new and scary looks on me, clearly.
By the time we reenter the lunchroom, the Cullen-Hale family has already departed. We sit back down with Jessica's group and engage in conversation, though Jessica and Lauren shoot me wary looks. Eventually it's time to go, and I bound off to French while kind Angela walks with Bella to their Biology class.
French is insanely dull. Just like with English, this class is eons behind my same course in Phoenix. Fortunately, they only requite two years of Foreign Language here, so as long as I don't get lazy, I'll pass this semester and not have to take more next year. As Madame Wendell twitters about conjugations, I let my mind wander. I wonder if Bella's having a good class. I hate not knowing what's she doing, especially with those Cullens/Hales in the school. Neither of us have had any classes with them so far, but who knows what's going on right now. Learning about their eyes help, but anxiety still zips through my veins.
A million years later, the bell rings, interrupting my worrying. I zip from the classroom and into the misty outdoors, seeing a baby-faced boy sporting gelled blond spikes with Bella heading towards the gymnasium. Mike. He leans a bit into her as they walk. Smooth, buddy.
As I get closer, my twin-sense alarm bells start blaring. Bella is upset. Bella is angry. Bella wants to cry. My eyes harden and I envision the numerous ways to murder the culprit. It isn't Mike; in fact, she seems to genuinely care what he's chattering about. I try to put on a happy face as I barrel near, not wanting to make her more distressed.
"Bella! Dammit girl, stop a moment for your favorite sister!" I shout as I, again, plow through students and tumble into my twin. This time the force of the impact sends us both to the moist sidewalk. "Sorry, not sorry!" I grin down at her.
"Yeah yeah, just get off of me, you bulldozer," she mock-grumbles, shoving me to the side. Mike helps her up, and then they both help me up. She tugs on a tendril of my hair. "You could've given me a concussion!"
I stick my tongue out at her. "That's not as bad as you giving yourself one, Klutzilla!"
Just as she's about to retaliate, we realize that Mike is snickering at us. We face him arms crossed. He covers his laughter with his palm. "Man, I wish I had a sibling. You two are priceless!" He wheezes out. I curve my elbow into Bella's and wink.
"This one's mine, have your parents make your own." My twin laughs into her hand and we start off toward the gym again. Mike catches up swiftly after he calms down.
As we enter the gym building, he turns to Bella again, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."
I nearly stop short. Was it Cullen that made her so distraught? I will burn down his house.
Bella cringes, and contemplates the question, deciding to play dumb for some reason. "Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" She asks artlessly. My eyes widen a bit but then narrow. Cullen sat next to her in her science class? If he even thinks about her…
"Yes," he says. "He looked like he was in pain or something." I grip her arm tighter and avoid her questioning gaze.
"I don't know," she responds. "I never spoke to him."
"He's a weird guy." Mike lingers by us instead of heading to the boys' locker room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would've talked to you."
I raise my eyebrows at the cheesiness of that. Bella, however, smiles at him before guiding me through the doors of the girls' locker room. He's friendly and clearly admiring, but it isn't enough to ease whatever irritation she has.
I quickly put on an innocent face. "Somebody's got a crush on you!" I sing, teasing. She elbows me in the ribs and smirks, proud of the "Oomph!" she gets out of me. "Ouch, Bells! Be nice to your only twin. It's not my fault that it's so obvious that Mike Newton looooves you!" I dash out of the way, squealing and giggling, before she can attack me.
I only have to keep this easy-going act up until I can…what? Yell at Cullen for being a douche? Should I say something outright to any them, or try to pretend they don't exist? They seem to be pretending everyone else doesn't exist, so perhaps that's indeed the best course of action. I peer over at the subject of concern, my dearest sister, and put back up my facade. We smile at each other, and I don't think she can tell anything is up.
The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, finds us a couple of uniforms but doesn't make us dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of P.E. are required. Here, P.E. is mandatory all four years. Forks is literally our personal hell on Earth.
We watch four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries Bella sustained and inflicted playing volleyball, she feels faintly nauseated. I rub her back, failing at coming up with something to talk about that has no chance of bringing up the Cullen's/Hale's. I say nothing.
The final bell rings at last. We shuffle to the office to return our paperwork. The rain has drifted away, but the wind is strong and cold. We snuggle close together, trying to get more body heat flowing without stabbing ourselves with each other's limbs.
When we step into the warm office, we almost turn around and bail immediately.
Edward Cullen stands at the desk in front of us, all tousled bronze hair and rigid stance. He doesn't appear to notice the sound of our entrance. We press against the back wall, wait for the receptionist free up.
He argues with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly pick up the gist of the argument. He's trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time. Any other time.
My twin-sense piques: Bella just couldn't believe that this was about her. It had to be something else, another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to her...kind of like how I had immediately hated the Cullen/Hale family. Her pupils tick to me ever so slightly, dilating at the realization that it was then quite possible.
The door opens again, and the frigid wind suddenly gusts through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling around Bella and me. The girl who comes in merely steps up to the desk, places a note in the wire basket, and walks out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffens, and he turns slowly to glare at Bella – even that face absurdly handsome, of course – with a piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, she feels a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on her arms. I quiver, but not from fear. I glare, with a thousand suns worth of loathing, at Edward. They both seem to notice this at once; his jaw clenches a little.
All of this happens in just a second, but it still chills her more than the freezing wind. Edward looks back to the receptionist.
"Never mind, then," he says hastily, in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turns on his heel without another look at us and disappears out the door.
Hurriedly, knowing he could be gone in an instant, I murmur, "Bella, I think I forgot something in my locker. I'll be right back," then I sprint outside.
Edward Cullen is already stepping into that stupid, shiny Volvo and speeding away.
After expelling an irritated breath, I go back inside with a fake, embarrassed smile and say that whatever I was supposed to be getting is actually in my bag. Bella eyes me funny from the front of the desk; she's already handed in our slips. She re-links arms with me halfheartedly.
"How did your first day go, dearies?" the receptionist asks. Her warm voice reminds me of Renee, when we were children and she was trying to be a real grown-up.
"Fine," we lie together, her voice weak and mine hard. The woman doesn't look very convinced.
When we get to the car, it's almost the last one in the lot. It seems like a little haven, already the closest thing to home we have in the damp green hole. I hand the keys to Bella for her to drive us home, but we just sit inside for a while, staring out the windshield blankly. But soon we're cold enough to need the heater, and she turns the engine over. We both fight back tears the whole way back to Charlie's house. Our house.
A/N: Please review with any constructive criticism!
Also, below are the relevant school schedules:
Bella:
1st period – English III
2nd – Government
3rd – Intro Psychology
4th – Trigonometry
5th – Spanish II
Lunch
6th – Biology II
7th – Gym
.
Emma:
1st: English III
2nd – Government
3rd – Art
4th – Trig
5th – Physics
Lunch
6th – French II
7th – Gym
.
Edward:
1st – Calculus
2nd – American History
3rd – Government
4th – English III
5th – Gym
Lunch
6th – Biology II
7th – Spanish II