Hi everyone! Alright this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so be gentle. Just kidding :) So i got this idea while I was sitting at home bored to death wondering what to do with my time. If you don't like it that's fine, it you do, that's great! I am always reading fanfic for Twilight, so I think it was time to see what I could to with writing one. Alright here is The Tutor and I really hope you enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. Mrs. Stephanie Meyer does. I'm just playing around with her characters.

Mr. Rodriguez was droning on and on about our next test coming up in two weeks. It was the big one, the mother of all bombs, the intimidating and slightly ridiculous mid-term that would either make or break our grades in Spanish class. I kept my head down on my crossed arms laying on my desk wondering when in heavens name the bell would ring so I could leave my final period and go hang out with someone who wasn't as socially awkward as Mr. Rodriguez.

"Y para todos lo que quieren ayuda en esta clase, pueden ir a la biblioteca por que Señor Edwardo Cullen ha ofertado su tiempo para ayudar los estudiantes que no estan haciendo muy bien con su español. Okay what did I just say?"

Mike Newton, one of the many idiotic yet somehow popular guys at school, snickered in the front row with his buddies and said, "Something about that nerdy tard Edward offering help in Spanish. What a geek, he can barely keep his four eyes out of a book, let alone lead a tutoring session."

The whole class erupted in laughter at the mention of Edward, but I just sat there with my head down, trying to regain some of the sleep I had lost the night before. My parents were fighting again, this time it was something along the lines of them not being able to trust each other when they led such different lives. My mom, Renee, was a successful interior designer who ran her own business outside of our little town of Forks, Washington and my dad, Charlie, was just your average Chief who sat in the Police office waiting for anything along the lines of criminal to happen. In a small town like mine, there really was no crime except for the occasional obscene graffiti from the wise cracks at Forks High School.

I lifted my head up to find Mike turned a good 180 degrees in his seat and staring at me with no attempts to cease his rude ogling. When I caught his eyes, he smiled that boyish grin I grew accustomed to ever since the fifth grade when he accidently touched my boob. Since then, he'd been trying to get his hands on me for a second time, but I never gave him the time of day. He was mouthing something to me, but I pretended not to understand the words "Bella, I want you" being shaped with his lips. I internally rolled my eyes and put my head back down again for the sheer fact that I would start blushing. I wasn't into Mike 'Pervert' Newton, but I could never really help myself when anything male tried to hit on me. I should've been used to it ever since my "social status" at this school elevated to new heights my sophomore year, but somehow I still always felt blush enter my cheeks at anything embarrassing and audacious.

"Newton, eyes forward before I put the sombrero on your head," Mr. Rodriguez stated in a very authoritative teacher voice.

I looked up to see Mike's mock performance of cringing in his seat while wailing, "Oh no, not the sombrero, oh God noooooooooo!" The whole class began to laugh for the second time at Mike's wild antics.

"That's it Newton," Mr. Rodriguez walked over to the corner of the room where the overly large 'Sombrero of Shame' was resting on its high pedestal. Even though Mike's back was turned toward me, I could distinctly imagine that annoying smirk on his face. Always the one seeking attention.

Mr. Rodriguez had the Sombrero of Shame in hand and was about to put it on Mike's head, when the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Mike's buddies began to cackle hysterically, giving him slaps on the back for being "The man."

This time I actually rolled my eyes in their direction as I got up and put my book bag over my shoulder. My friend, Angela, walked up to me with a small smile on her face and her Spanish book in hand. "Can you believe we actually hang out with those guys."

I returned her sweet smile and let out a small laugh. "Impossible to believe, I know." I grabbed my folder from the book cradle under my desk and began putting all my loose papers in order.

When I looked back up at Angela, her little forehead was creased as if she was trying to concentrate awfully hard on something.

"What," I asked, wondering if I had anything on my face.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah of course. Sleep deprivation that's all."

"Are you sure?" Angela reached out to squeeze my hand in hers. She always had this weird way of knowing when I was a bit off. I guess that's why she was really one of the only real friends I had at this school. She was in sync with my moods and always knew how to comfort me when I was down. In turn, I wanted to be that same friend for her, and I hated whenever I let her down or lied to her like I was doing now.

I nodded my head and brightened my smile by showing her my pearly whites. Angela laughed, and was about to walk with me out the door, when she stumbled into Mike.

"Woah woah Angela girl! I know I'm irresistible, but watch the pecks. They're lethal." Mike snickered at his narcissistic comment and began to rub his chest as if it hurt.

Angela fixed Mike with one of her glares and tapped her foot impatiently. "Mike don't be such a moron, or I'm going to have to call Ben over."

"Oh Ben Shmen. He's nothing I can't handle."

"Oh really," I heard Ben, Angela's longtime boyfriend, speak up from the seat across the classroom.

Mike shouted louder than necessary and pounded his heart with his fist and said, "Kidding man. Kidding. You know I love you bro."

I heard Ben mumble something inappropriate under his breath as he packed up his oversized backpack with his books.

I shook my head in annoyance at Ben and Mike's bromance as I tried to walk out of the class without being stopped by another one of Mike's endeavors to ask me out.

I guess I wasn't quick enough.

"Hey pretty Bella! Wait just a minute babe."

I swung around and stood in the middle of the room waiting for Mike to just get another date proposal over with as I tapped my foot, mimicking Angela's former impatience with this annoying child.

He walked up to me slowly, as if he was one of the most intriguing specimens on the planet. Once a few inches away from me, he grabbed my hand, rose it up to his mouth, and kissed it lightly.

All I could do was try not to laugh at his sad impression of romancing a girl.

"I was wondering, if you weren't busy tonight---"

I huffed annoyingly and stopped him before he could get the words out. "Mike how many times do I have to tell you, it's not going to happen."

"Come on Bella, I know you're wildly attracted to me."

I flung my arms in the air and began to sarcastically follow along. "You know, I think your right. 'I want you, I need you, oh baby oh baby.'"

I'm pretty sure he didn't even realize that I was quoting 10 Things I Hate About You when Kat and Pat were having one of their infamous arguments in the book store. I'm sure all he heard were the words 'want' and 'need.'

"So you agree? I mean I am not just imagining your attraction toward me? I knew it! Ever since that time in the fifth grade---"

I couldn't help myself. I rose my free hand up and smacked Mike across the head and stomped on his foot with my Mary Jane flats. I was suddenly regretting the fact that I didn't wear my five inch heels today. "Mike! Grow a brain! I. Don't. Like. You! Never have, never will. Now can you please move your body mass out of my way so I can get out of here?"

Mike was rubbing his head looking dejected and sad, but I honestly didn't care. He had rubbed me the wrong way too many times before and I was done with his disgusting insinuations about he and I possibly getting together.

Mike stopped his ministrations on his head and set his arm down. To my surprise, he began to smile from ear to ear like the time he was offered free condoms in Sex Ed. I internally groaned at that wretched grin.

"You…are…amazing, Bella Swan. I think I've fallen in love with you all over again." Mike practically skipped out of the room with his back pack bouncing off his back. Well I'm glad you're going to have a nice weekend.

As I rolled my eyes for the umpteenth time today, I decided it was finally time to get out of this class. But before I could even put a foot over the threshold, I heard Mr. Rodriguez clear his throat and say my name in that Spanish accent of his.

I turned and gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry professor, that won't happen again."

"Isabella, why don't you take a seat?" Mr. Rodriguez motioned with his hand for me to sit in the desk that was facing opposite his. I consented, and set my book bag down, wondering when I would ever leave to start my weekend.

Mr. Rodriguez cleared his throat again, opened a file that was sitting on his desk, and pushed his glasses up his nose. Uh-oh. I didn't have to be good at reading body language to know something was up.

"Sir with all due respect, I would really appreciate it if you could make this quick. I have to meet some friends for coffee."

Mr. Rodriguez smiled at my impatience and stood up to walk in front of his desk and lean on it. "Bella, how are you doing in the rest of your classes?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Fine I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well I understand the material, if that's what you're asking."

"Homework not too hard, reading comprehension is up to par?"

I leaned back in the chair and crossed my arms over my chest. "Is there something wrong Mr. Rodriguez?"

Rodriguez mimicked my shrugging shoulders and pushed up his glasses again. "Oh no, nothing at all. Just the fact that you are failing my class, and you don't seem to give a money's worth about it."

At the word 'fail,' I perked up in my seat and my jaw dropped. "You're kidding."

"Not even a little. See Bella, I know that High School can be tough on girls like you. All the dances, the makeup, the boys, more boys, hell let's just say all the boys."

I gasped at what Mr. Rodriquez was insinuating. For Christ's sake he was making me sound like a whore.

"…and I know a silly little class like Spanish isn't on the top of your list of oh so important priorities, but I highly recommend you start making it one, because trust me, this can and will do a lot of damage to your graduation requirements."

"You've got to be shitting me," I mumbled under my breath. It was true that I did have a social life and that I liked doing things other than academic work, but I was never a bad student. I always turned in my homework on time, I did good on tests and quizzes, and I rocked the literature and essay's in English. Failure was never a part of my vocabulary.

I was shaking my head backwards and forwards, trying to get a grip on what Rodriguez was telling me. Finally I found my voice, but it came out in a pathetic whisper. "Where are all these failing assignments you're talking about."

Mr. Rodriguez reached over with one hand to the file sitting on his desk and dropped it sloppily onto my desk. I closed my eyes and slowly opened the folder, wondering what I was going to witness inside. When I finally got up the nerve to open my eyes, my jaw dropped in horror at the obscene color of red starring up at me. Red mark after red mark was slashed through all the papers I had turned in for the past month. What was even more disturbing was the foreign "F" starring back at me on top of every page. It was like Rodriguez's own personal way of saying, "F you Bella Swan."

I closed the folder with a small slam on the desk and dared to look up at my teacher. He was in the exact same position, assessing my reaction. I sighed into the palms of my hands, too exasperated with what I was about to ask him. "What can I do?"

Rodriquez opened his arms wide like he was about to embrace an imaginary person. "Aah the redeeming four word phrase. 'What can I do?'"

I had finally had it. Today was already ruined, and if I had to deal with this stereotyping Spanish teacher for another second, I was going to make sure that that Sombrero of Shame became permanently attached to his head. I slammed my hands on the desk a little harder and finally got Mr. Rodriguez's full attention.

He smirked and pushed off his desk in order to walk behind it to grab something from one of the drawers. It was a tiny note pad on which he began to scribble something. He ripped the note out and extended it toward me, giving me no indication that he was going to get up and hand it to me. So I stood up myself, walked up to his desk and asked, "What is it?"

"Just take it Miss. Swan. And do what you will with it."

I scoffed loudly, snatched it from his hand and grabbed my stuff to leave. As I walked out, I heard him call out, "Have a good weekend Señorita Swan."

I flung my hands up in the air and strode to my locker. Nobody was in the halls. They were all probably off doing something fun with all their friends, like I should've been doing. When I finally reached my locker, I pulled out all the books I needed for my homework this weekend. I slammed my locker door with full force and ran out of the school and to my truck. The weather was its usual dark, cold, and cloudy, with chance of rain. Even though I had lived here all my life, I still longed for the sun to peak its head out so that I could wear a tang-top and tan. But with my creamy complexion, I was pretty sure I would do more harm than good.

I started my truck and waited for the small space to get warm as I turned up the heater. I had set my book bag on the floor and when I went to pick it up, I spotted the small sticky note that Rodriguez had given me so smugly. Thanks to my prideful nature, I had decided not to glance at it in his presence for fear that I might find something along the lines of, "Isabella Marie Swan: Epic Failure At Life" written on it.

Instead, what I found was even more shocking. Scribbled at the top was the name Edward Cullen and what looked like a phone number. "What…" Why would Mr. Rodriguez give me Edward Cullen's number. Sure, I knew the kid since that time he let me borrow his crayons in kindergarten, but it made absolutely no sense.

And that's when it hit me: Mike's annoying attempt to get attention flew through my mind. Something about that nerdy tard Edward offering help in Spanish. What a geek, he can barely keep his four eyes out of a book, let alone lead a tutoring session.

I pinched my eyes shut and whispered the dreaded word I had never been faced with in my entire life. "Tutoring…"

As if my head lost all of its balance on my neck, it flew forward and landed on my steering wheel. From miles away, I bet anyone could hear the blaring noises coming from the horn on my wheel

Alright there you go! The first chapter of The Tutor. Leave a review if you want, and if you don't no worries, I will just be happy to know you took the time to read my crappy writing.

Lots of love, Olivia.