BACK AT AGAIN WITH MY BULLSHIT!
Lol, this story concept has been bugging me for a while now, I couldn't resist writing it I'm sorry. So far its only two chapters, don't expect regular updates.
Otherwise I hope you all like it! Fair warning, its unbeta'd ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Con crit is much appreciated!
Much love :)
I should have expected the endless rain from the moment the plane touched down in Seattle under stormy grey clouds and the heavy fog of the runway. I'd been clutching tightly at the arm rests throughout the whole descent, ignoring the amused glance my seating buddy -a middle-aged woman from Texas who'd been willing to give me her dessert and thus sparking lifelong companionship between the two of us- and praying fiercely. I'd never liked flying, despite the frequency with which I did it. I blamed my morbid fascination on too many episodes of Seconds From Disaster, and other such shows.
Thankfully, we touched down quickly enough, with hardly any of the accompanying jostling that was caused by tires connecting with the runway, and as we disembarked, I'd only glanced up at the sky one last time before forgetting all about it. After exchanging numbers with my newfound friend, it had been going through security and customs and everything else that involved landing in a foreign country. The state of the weather had been the least of my priorities.
My liaison met me holding a small whiteboard scrawled with Catalina Augustìn in hasty script and an excited smile on his freckled face. The accent in my surname was facing the wrong direction, but it wasn't enough to deter me from potential extraction. I was exhausted, and quite ready to been on my way. With my duffel bag over one shoulder, backpack on the other, and heavy Pikachu printed suitcase rolling along next to me, I dragged myself over to meet him, mustering up a tired smile.
"That would be me." I said, gesturing at the sign wryly, and he jumped a little, having been faced in the other direction. He blinked a few times, before gracing me with a bright smile, hurriedly placing the board in the small basket of the trolley next to him.
"It's great to meet you -well, in person that is. I'm Scott Walters, your liaison, and the guy you've been exchanging emails with for the better part of the month." He ended the introduction with a sheepish laugh, before moving to take my suitcase and place it on the trolley. I was more than happy enough to relinquish it.
"Hello," I answered, my smile becoming more genuine. Soon we were on our way out the airport, and he handed me his umbrella when he saw the downpour waiting for us outside, but still I didn't suspect anything, too busy trying to pay attention to his excited ramblings about how him and the program were excited that I'd been willing to accept the position, and how they were looking forward to the results. English wasn't my first, nor even second language, and it worked better for me when people spoke slowly, which he wasn't exactly doing.
Still, I caught the majority of it, and by the time we were settled into his humble Prius and had hit the highway, I'd been drawn into conversation.
We both worked for an international nonprofit organization called Colors, that focused on spreading the Liberal Arts in schools all over the world -specifically in less privileged environments. It was my second and a half year as a Music teacher for them, and I'd joined as soon as I'd graduated from Berklee, Valencia (and an additional six month course at Academia Internacional de Música de Solsona). I'd been very lucky they'd taken me straight out of school.
Scott however, was a veteran, having been a part since way back when it was just forming in 2002. He was a Philosophy teacher, which surprised me because he was just so happy. But he assured me that even he had his moments of grave existential angst, which caused me to laugh despite myself.
Exhaustion however, pulled at my senses, and I was half asleep when we passed the great green sign that cheerily proclaimed "Welcome to Forks!" that seemed to be overcompensating with exclamation marks to distract from the utter dullness of the small town.
Of course, upon being offered the posting, pictures had been attached, but I hadn't expected it to be so small, and as we passed a great big bear carving, rustic. I realized it hadn't stopped raining since we'd left the airport,in fact, the town only seemed darker and more dreary than anywhere else. Yet, its inhabitants (who all seemed to be pale skinned and sturdy) were undeterred, trudging through the puddles in gumboots and parkas, ignoring the downpour completely.
I looked to Scott as we pulled over at a stoplight. "Is it always so...?" I asked hesitantly, to which he simply laughed.
"Yes."
Merde, I thought.
I slumped further in my seat, and glanced at the rose-gold diamond ring on my finger. I recalled Matiás' warnings not to come, and wished now that I'd listened, though to be fair, his main reason had been that he hadn't wanted me gone for half a year, but technicalities. i'd been adamant however, because I knew that as soon as the wedding took place, my touring ways would be over, and I'd be forced to find a job closer to home. Just once more, I'd told him. One more time, and then I'd stop.
But Dios, even if the sight of Forks was enough to discourage anyone, the job wasn't. I loved music, loved the sound, the feel of it, and I loved teaching it even more; sharing the experience with others, seeing the joy on their faces and happiness on even the most sullen was indescribable. How could Matiás expect me to give that up?
It wasn't to say that Barcelona was terrible, or that I couldn't find a job there, but it just wouldn't be the same.
I wanted to be excited for the next six months, to look forward to it, but as I glanced around, all l felt was gloom. My last posting would be spent in this depressing town, and I wanted to cry. Maybe I'd ask for a transfer, if it all got too much.
"We're very grateful you accepted, this'll be the first time Forks High is getting an Exchange Teacher. We're hoping we'll be able to promote the school, encourage others you know?" Scott said, pushing the car into drive again when the light turned green, and then I started to feel guilty.
Just a little.
I tried to get a good look at the town, in an attempt to get a feel for its layout but it wasn't exact hard since the whole place was like two meters wide. I used the (only) petrol station as a landmark for the town center, mostly because there was nothing else distinctive enough to be used. Under normal circumstances, it would a least a bit worrisome, but one couldn't exactly get lost here.
We pulled into the suburbs, all full of quaint, two story houses and large green yards between them, and we got a few stares as we drove past, until we seemed to leave the area altogether.
Scott turned into a gravel road that lasted the duration of five minutes, before pulling into a complete stop in front of a two-story house much like the ones we'd seen earlier, only it was a faded red. There was a wooden porch, some flowers up front, and a chimney. It also had a very big yard, the forest looming darkly behind it.
Nervously I looked to the man sitting next to me, "No apartment buildings in Forks?" I asked, only half joking, to which he winced.
That was answer enough.
He hurried to retrieve my things, and I followed behind him in trepidation, trying to imagine living in such seclusion all by myself. My imagination didn't come with anything reassuring.
"Oh don't worry, Forks' literally the safest place ever, and no animals venture this close to town either. You'll be alright." The freckled man said as he pulled open the screen door and jammed the keys into the keyhole of the wooden door beyond.
"I hope so," I muttered to myself, casting one last look around before following inside. I'd watched far too many American horror movies to feel entirely comfortable, and knew that come nighttime, everything would be locked down better than the Vatican.
"The heating system can be a little problematic from time to time, old houses don't adapt well to technology, apparently-" here he laughed, placing my bags at the entrance, "-but we've prepared enough firewood in the shed to last you a year, and then some, so no worries for the winter at least. Everything else should be in working order, and if any problems arise, then you have my number."
"Bedrooms are upstairs, the main one is the last door down the hall. There's a study, and a guest bedroom, and extra storage space below the stairs." He said gesturing to the place.
It wasn't terrible, I decided immediately. The furnishings were nice, modern but not fancy, walls painted a serene blue-grey, and curtains thick and pretty, not to mention it was surprisingly spacious, an open plan layout that made the place seem bigger than it really was. The kitchen was through an archway on the left, and a carpeted stairwell led to the top floor. Wide windows and cherry wood floors, I actually found myself pleasantly surprised.
"It is really nice." I told Scott, who was watching my reaction nervously.
The man beamed, "Ah thank goodness, we did our best. I know it's not what you're used to but-"
I shook my head, holding up my hands to stop him. "Really, it is great. I am looking forward to living here."
He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, "I was a bit concerned, you seemed more cheerful over the phone and, well I know Forks is a bit dull... " he and I winced in tandem.
I chastised myself. Here I was, already bitching and moaning from the get go, while he and the organizers had done the most to make sure she was comfortable. I felt horrid. "I am sorry, I am not normally so," I made a vague gesture to myself, smiling wryly, and Scott, bless him, chuckled. "It is a bit of a...change, but, I am here for the kids, not the luxury. I volunteered, I am sticking to it. Please do not feel bad."
Scott shrugged easily, "I get it. They sent me to Uganda once when I'd only ever worked in Europe, and well, it was different." He left it at that, causing me to laugh a little. "Anyway, the rest of your stuff should be here by tomorrow. Um, the house is already stocked with the basics, but you can request anything you think you need and housekeeping will come over every Sunday, starting next week. For now though, I think that's it. Questions?" He asked, to which I just smiled and shook my head.
He cleared his throat, before heading over to the living room, "You know how to start a fire?" He asked, beckoning me over to the fireplace.
"Uh..." Was my intelligent answer, to which he laughed loudly.
"I'll teach you, watch. You'll need to know, it can get very cold here." He said sternly.
"I cannot just call you over every time to start one for me?" I asked jokingly, to and he only laughed.
Nonetheless, I paid close attention, knowing that I'd need to know it. I had zero experience in winter environments, all the places I'd lived in having been tropical, and I'd have been doomed had he not offered.
Soon we had a merry blaze going, and I couldn't help but marvel as I put my hands out to get warm. I hadn't realized how cold I'd been until that moment, though it was understandable. I was dressed for a light autumn chill, not midwinter up in the Olympic peninsula.
Scott gave me a look of amusement, dusting off his hands, "You've got a fireplace up in your room too." He informed me, and I gave a pleased sigh, rubbing my hands together.
He glanced at the watch on his wrist, before cursing abruptly, "I've actually gotta go but, again, call me if you need anything, alright?" I glanced outside, it had long since gone dark, to my surprise. No wonder he was rushing.
"Gracias, Scott." I said, as we got up and he blushed a little, the colour contrasting starkly with the red of his hair.
"Uh, no problemo." He coughed, scratching the back of his head, "I'm afraid I slept through most of Spanish in highschool, and the few times I didn't, I was ditching." He admitted sheepishly.
I gave a snort of amusement, "I am judging you," I told him, but the ginger only shrugged helplessly, before answering. "It's youth."
As soon as Scott left, I threw myself into the surprisingly comfortable couch, kicking off my sneakers and draping my legs over the end with a sigh of contentment. I didn't want to venture upstairs in this still strange house at night, and anyway the living room had warmed up quickly, and after locking the door behind Scott (I would be taking no risks in this place) all I wanted to do was curl up and fall asleep.
But first, I had to call back home.
Shimmying slightly to reach my phone in my back pocket, I switched it on. A lock screen photo of me and Matiás greeted me, both of us smiling bright under the Barcelona sunshine and I sighed, remembering our fight the day I'd left.
It was only when I saw that my time was still set for GMT+1 and the circles of my signal bar were replaced by a red SOS that I realized I wouldn't be making any calls for the foreseeable future. Until I went and got myself a Sim card and a data plan (and hopefully WiFi, though that seemed unlikely) I wouldn't be contacting anyone.
Sighing again, I tossed the phone (gently) onto the coffee table and stared up at the ceiling until I fell asleep.
The next day was spent exploring and scrubbing down the house from top to bottom, getting into all the books and crannies until each and every surfaced gleamed brightly. In my adventures around the house, I found the shed at the back, the storage space Scott had mentioned, and a food pantry in the kitchen.
Upstairs was a bit smaller than the main floor, but my bedroom was big and airy, and my bathroom had a bathtub, so really, what else mattered?
True to Scott's word, a delivery truck pulled up with the rest of my belongings just after midday, causing me to feel a million times better. Having pieces of myself in the house would make this place feel a little more like home, and after extracting my Bluetooth speaker from a box and putting on some music I gleefully set about unpacking. Mostly, it was just my billions of books and souvenirs I'd picked up from my various stints as a teacher all over, as well as linens and towels, and some framed photos but it was enough.
My most important possession was the blown wide photo of my mami that I'd paid extra to be shipped over as fragile. As I unwrapped it carefully, I delicately stroked her smiling face, feeling a pang in my heart. She was beautiful, dressed in her festive red dress that she dances in, a rose in her mahogany hair and her bright grey eyes gleaming with happiness. I could still remember the day the photo had been taken as vividly as if it had been yesterday. I missed her even more than one would miss a limb.
I placed her right at the entrance, displaying her proudly.
At around four, I heard a honking outside, and when I went outside, found a man in dirty, oil slicked overalls climbing out a tow truck, a small grey Jeep behind it.
Apparently what Scott hadn't told me, was that I'd be getting a car. Needless to say, I was shocked, because well, teachers who worked for Colors were volunteers -the program only funded necessities, such as housing and insurance. The rest had to be taken out of our own pocket.
But apparently my liaison had been kind enough to donate his to my cause, and I couldn't help but be terribly, terribly relieved because a big worry of mine had been how exactly I'd be getting to work each morning.
The mechanic left soon after, and I wished I could've called Scott to show just how grateful I was. I made a mental note that it would be the first thing I'd do as soon as I was able.
The remainder of the day was spent going over my lesson plans; I had classes with all four years, spread out through the week, and while the highschool itself wasn't very big nor would every student take my class, it was still the most work I'd ever done. Most other places, I'd at least two co-teachers to spread out the work with, but here, I was alone. My only saving grace was that Forks already had a music program, however defunct. At least I wouldn't be starting from scratch.
I called in for Pizza at dinner, finding the town's services' pamphlet posted on the fridge, nibbling on a few slices in front of the TV as I watched a Mexican telenovela channel, before retiring for an early night.
Monday morning dawned, well not bright, but early. When I peeked out from behind my thick purple curtains, I found frost had laced the windows, the clouds grey as ever and I grumbled to myself slightly, because I really wasn't made for this weather.
I went through my morning ritual as vigilantly as always, taking my time on my teeth, making sure they were as clean as could be, before rinsing with mouthwash, revelling in the burn. Then I soaked in the bathtub, water just slighter hotter than I could take it, forcing my body to relax until it adjusted, and proceeded to scrub myself thoroughly.
I was very particular about personal hygiene, going so far as to always carry antiseptic wipes and a small bottle of hand sanitizer with me everywhere I went. Matiás teased me for it but I'd grown up in a strict home, and the habit of extreme cleanliness and neatness followed me into adulthood.
(Plus, I had a bad habit of judging people, and one couldn't judge if they too were the same)
After applying my preferred lotion and styling my dark hair into a bun, I dressed smartly in black cashmere pants that flared at the bottom, a red polo neck, and black mary-janes. Always look your best, my mami had always said, you never knew who was watching.
I also had the disadvantage of being young, and people tended to underestimate me. I couldn't just look my best, I had to be my best.
After accompanying the look with a red lip and a brown eye shadow pallette, I straightened my clothes carefully, gave myself one last critical look in the floor length mirror attached to the closet door and declared myself ready to go.
I grabbed my bag which I'd prepared the night before and a flask of coffee, before donning my peacoat and making my way outside. When the frigid air hit me, I was glad for my heavy layers, because Dios, it was freezing. Reading the weather reports on the internet were one thing, but actually experiencing it was another. It was a miracle nothing was frozen over.
I quickly got into the car, turning up the heater as high as it could go, and sitting in place a few minutes more to get warm, before I actually put the car into drive.
Forks Highschool wasn't particularly hard to find, even though it was on the other side of town. The ride was only a brief fifteen minutes, even with my snail slow driving. I pulled in, noting the sign that indicated the faculty's parking lot, and found a parking spot close to the entrance. School started at eight on the dart, and it was currently seven forty-five, but I did still have to meet with the principal before classes started.
The campus itself was really a bunch of redbrick buildings that just all happened to be in the same area, and not a connected, cohesive building, but honestly, I'd seen worse, and it was better than I'd expected.
I hurried inside to the reception room, where I found a plump, curly haired woman standing at the counter, arranging some colorful school flyers carefully. I cleared my throat to get her attention, and her wide eyes flew to me in surprise, her hand jerking in shock causing some of the flyers to scatter. She made an abortive motion, and I hurried to pick them up from where they'd fallen.
"Oh, thank you dearie, I can be such a clutz." Said the woman, pushing them together and firmly arranging them once more but I only waved my hand dismissively.
"It is my fault, really. I apologize." I told her with a smile, but she only gawked at me in shocked silence for a moment, before she left out a puff of air through her nose.
"Well look at you and your fancy accent, just like one of them beauties in the Bond movies! You that new exchange teacher?" She asked interestedly, to which I nodded.
She made a sound of comprehension, "I'd heard you were Mexican but its still a bit surprising, you see. Why our Spanish language teacher's from over there, but she's been here so long we consider her one of ours. Her accent's long gone. What did you say your name was again, dearie?"
I blinked a few times, "My name is Catalina, and I am from Spain actually." I corrected, to which she nodded sagely.
"Ooh yes, much more exotic I think. Always wanted to go there myself, spend time in the capital, see a little bit of the world and all that, but well, my husband's a right caveman. Can't even be bothered to take a drive down to the beach, let alone travel halfway across the world, he just loves to sit on that chair of his and watch the game." The woman huffed indignantly, and I watched in amusement "Well anyway, that's marriage for you I guess, word of advice, Kitty, don't do it. I'm Mrs Cope by the way, but you can call me Marge. I run things around here -though ain't you a bit young?"
Ah there it was, exactly what I'd been waiting for. And it would be happening until I turned at least twenty-seven.
But I could only shrug, because I was young, barely twenty-four. "Well, I do hope so, yes," I agreed and we both laughed, "Is the principal in? I am supposed to meet with him before I start." I informed her, and she nodded.
"Oh, I see I see. Let me just ring him for you." she said, picking up the telephone before she'd even finished talking.
A few words later, and she hung up. "He'll be out in a little while, he's just-"
Just then the door opened once more, cutting her off and drawing both our attention.
In walked a mousy teenage girl, with brown hair and pale skin, dressed sensibly in jeans, a heavy grey parka, and rain boots. Her shoulders were hunched in when she walked, her eyes trained on the ground and hand clutched tightly onto the strap of her backpack.
"Can I help you?" Asked Mrs Cope -it felt entirely awkward to call her by her first name- looking at the girl expectantly.
"I'm Isabella Swan." She mumbled quietly. Recognition passed over the older woman's face, and I saw Isabella fidget uncomfortably. It was evident this was a girl who didn't like attention -I could empathize; I'd been a teenager once not so long ago. Wretched years, those were.
"Of course," breathed Mrs Cope, before rummaging through a pile of precariously stacked papers, attention straying. "I've got your map and schedule around here somewhere..."
I gave Isabella a friendly smile and a playful nudge with my shoulder. She stumbled slightly, before righting herself and staring up at me with wide brown eyes, her cheeks red. "Do not worry, I am new too." I whispered just low enough for her ears to catch.
She blinked a few times, blushing deeper, before a hesitant smile blossomed on her face. Her mouth opened, but before she could say anything, a door on the side of the office opened loudly, revealing a thin man with a bald head gleaming so bright it reflected the florescent lights in the room. Isabella's mouth clamped shut.
"Ms Augustín, I'm ready for you." He announced simply, voice nasally and the moustache above his lip twitching with every word, before ducking back into the office.
I looked back at the young girl next to me and we shared a glance of amusement, my lips twitching, and she let out a helpless snort before hurriedly covering her mouth, looking shy suddenly, but she seemed to be a lot less nervous, which was my goal in the first place.
"Ah found them!" Announced Mrs Cope, brandishing the papers proudly.
"Good luck. " I said to her, before leaving with a conspiratory wink, and following after the Principal.
