The Gender-Switch Project: Twilight

Disclaimer 1: I don't own Twilight. If I did it would have had more violence, less crying, more Jasper, and less repeated adjectives.

Disclaimer 2: I got the idea from The GenderBendering of Haruhi Suzumiya. I had nothing to do with the creation of that, and I hope the people that did, don't mind me working on this. After all- its a completley different series.

My father drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favourite shirt – faded black, with Muse written across the front in peeling acrylic; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry on item was a jacket.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and it's gloomy, omnipresent shade that my father escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I had finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my mum, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.

It was to Forks that I know exiled my self- an action that I took with great horror. I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat, the vigorous, sprawling city.

"Ben," my dad had said to me- the last of a thousand times- before I got on the plane.

"You don't have to do this."

My dad looks like me, except with the just visible bristles that come from missing a days shaving, and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at his wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained father to fend for himself? Of course he had Phyllis now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in his car, and someone to call when he got lost, but still…

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I'll see you soon," he insisted. "You can come home whenever you want- I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

But I could see the sacrifice in his eyes behind the promise.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Dad."

He hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and he was gone.

Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.

Charlie had been fairly nice about the whole thing. She seemed generally pleased that I was coming to live with her for the first time with any degree of permanence. She'd already registered me for high school and was going to help me get a car.

But it was sure to be awkward. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I knew she was more than a little confused by my decision- like my father before me, I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. Unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.

Charlie was waiting for me with her cruiser. This is what I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane.

"It's good to see you, Benji," she said, smiling as she automatically moved to steady me.

"You haven't changed much. How's Ryan?"

"Dad's fine. It's good to see you too, Mom." I wasn't allowed to call her Charlie to her face.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap", she announced when we were strapped in the cruiser.

"What kind of car?" I was instantly suspicious.

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billie Black down at La Push?"

"No."

"She used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.

That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking painfully unnecessary things from my memory.

"She's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "so she can't drive anymore, and she offered to sell me her truck cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from her change of expression that this was the question she was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billie's done a lot of work on the engine- it's only a few years old, really."

I hoped she didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up that easily.

"When did she buy it?

"She bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did she buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties- or late fifties at the earliest," she admitted sheepishly.

"Ch- Mom, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic…"

"Really, Ben, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

The thing, I thought to myself… it had possibilities- as a nickname, at the very least.

"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free.

"You didn't need to do that, Mom. I was going to buy myself a car."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." She was looking ahead at the road when she said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing emotions out loud. I inherited that from her. So I was looking straight ahead as I responded.

"That's really nice, Mom. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. She didn't need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth- or engine.

"Well now, you're welcome," she mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.

It was too green- an alien planet.

Eventually we made it to Charlie's. She still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that she'd bought with my father in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage has- the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new- well, new to me- truck. To my surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged- the kind you see at the end of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

"Wow, Mom, I love it! Thanks." Now my day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.

I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the dark blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the posters of bands I had tacked onto the walls the last time I'd visited to remind me of home- now all strangely a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made herself were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held 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 my father, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.

One of the best things about Charlie is she doesn't hover. She left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and put off thinking about the coming morning.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven- now fifty-eight- students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All the kids here had grown up together- their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new guy from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.

Maybe, if I looked like a boy from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, muscle bound, blonde- a footballer or a baseball player, perhaps- all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead I was ivory skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been skinny, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself- and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close. When I finished unpacking, I went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face it the mirror as I combed through my tangled, damp hair- it needed a cut, my fringe covered my eyes when wet. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. I knew at the very least I didn't always look as bad as this. The lack of color in this place blanched away any chance I might have had at looking halfway decent. Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here? I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my father, who was my closest friend, was never in harmony with me, never exactly on the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning.

I didn't sleep well that night. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. She wished me good luck at school. I thanked her, knowing her hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was her husband and family. After she left I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three miss-matching chairs and examined her small kitchen with its dark panelled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. My father had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my dad in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at- I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. It was impossible, being in this house not to realise that Charlie had never gotten over my dad. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket- which had the feel of a biohazard suit- and headed out into the rain. It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood. Inside the truck it was nice and dry. Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school, only the sign which declared it to be Forks High School, made me stop. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?

I parked in front of the first building which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was cut in half by a long counter, one of which was manned by a large red-haired man wearing glasses. He was wearing a purple t-shirt which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired man looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Benjamin Swan," I informed him, and saw the immediate awareness light his eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Son of the Chief's unreliable ex-husband, come home at last.

"Of course," he said. He dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on his desk till he found the ones he was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." He brought several sheets to the counter to show me. He went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to give back at the end of the day. When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighbourhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me. I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything into my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out I noticed with relief. Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. Slipping off my coat and hanging it on a row of hooks just inside the classroom door, a cursory glance of the room showed that at least my pale skin wouldn't stand out here. I wasn't sure whether the sigh that followed that realisation was one of relief, or resignation to the possibility of never seeing the sun again. I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, middle aged woman whose desk had a nameplate identifying her as Mrs. Mason. She gawked at me when she saw my name- not an encouraging response- and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least she sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if my dad would send me my folder of old essays, or if he would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with him in my head while the teacher droned on. When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly girl with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Benjamin Swan, aren't you?" She looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Ben," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" she asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…"

Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Erica," she added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different from Phoenix, huh?" she asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" she wondered.

"Sunny," I told her.

"You don't look very tan."

"My father is part albino."

She studied my face apprehensively and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humour didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Erica walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," she said as I touched the handle, "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." She sounded hopeful.

I smiled at her vaguely and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Ms Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject she taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat.

After two classes, I started to recognise several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.

One guy sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and he walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. He was tall, several inches taller than my 5ft 11, but his wild curly hair may have exaggerated his height. I couldn't remember his name, so I smiled and nodded as he went on about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up. We sat at the end of a full table with several of his friends, who he introduced to me. The seemed impressed by his bravery in speaking to me. The girl from English, Erica, waved at me from across the room. It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them. They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food 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 those things that caught and held my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three girls, one was tall- but looked as though she'd wear the most dangerous pair of stilettos anyway just to show off, and had shoulder length curly brown hair. Another was slightly shorter, aloof, and had waist length honey blond hair. The last was the smallest, and like all of them had a figure that would make any Sports Illustrated swimsuit model nervous about their career. She had tangled bronze-colored hair and looked younger than the others who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. The boys were opposites. The tall one was movie star good looking- blonde, ripped: the kind that made every guy around him think about hitting an extra day at the gym. The shorter boy was just as good looking- but in a more Shojo manga kind of way. Slender but with lean and well toned muscles hiding just under the surface of his boyish appearance. His hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.

And yet they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in their hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes- purplish, bruise like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless might, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. But all this is not why I couldn't look away. I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected 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 was hard to decide who was the most beautiful- maybe the perfect blond boy, or the bronze-haired girl.

They were all looking away- away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the smaller boy rose with his tray- unopened soda, unbitten apple- and walked away with a quick graceful lope that brought to mind the grace of panthers I'd seen on the Discovery Channel. He dumped his tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.

"Who are they?" I asked the boy from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten.

As he looked up to see who I meant- though already knowing, probably from my tone- suddenly she looked at him, the smaller girl, the youngest perhaps. She looked at my neighbour 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 eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, her face held nothing of interest- it was as if he had called her name, and she'd looked up involuntary in response, already having decided not to answer.

My neighbour laughed in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.

"That's Elizabeth and Emma Cullen, and Robert and Jasmine Hale. The one who left was Alex Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and her husband." He said this low under his breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful girl, who was looking at her tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. 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, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here- small town names? I finally remembered that my neighbour was called Joshua, a perfectly common name. There were two boys named Joshua in my History class back home.

"They are… very nice looking." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement.

"Yeah!" Joshua agreed with another laugh. "They're all together though- Emma and Robert, and Jasmine and Alex, I mean. And they live together." His voice held all the suggestion and whisper of scandal of the small town, I thought critically. But if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix it would cause talk.

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

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in her twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins- the blondes- and they're foster children."

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasmine and Robert are both eighteen, but they've been with Mr. Cullen since they were eight. He's their uncle or something like that."

"That's really kind of nice- for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Joshua admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that he didn't like the doctor and her husband for some reason. With the glances he was throwing at their adopted children. I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids though," he added, as if that lessened their kindness."

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at walls and not eat.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here.

"No," he said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard. As I examined them, the youngest one of the Cullens looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in her expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that her glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which is the girl with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye, and she was still staring at me, but not gawking at me like the other students had today- she had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

"That's Elizabeth. She's gorgeous of course, but don't waste your time. She doesn't date. Apparently none of the boys here are good-looking enough for her." He sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when she'd turned him down.

I bit my lip to hide a smile. Then I glanced at her again. Her face was turned away, but I thought her cheek appeared lifted as if she were smiling too.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They were noticeably graceful- even the big muscular one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Elizabeth didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Joshua and his friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that his name was Angelo, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. He wasn't the chatty type either.

When we entered the classroom, Angelo went to sit at a black topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. He already had a neighbour. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the centre aisle, I recognise Elizabeth Cullen by her unusual hair sitting next to that single open seat. As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching her surreptitiously. Just as I passed she suddenly went rigid in her seat. She stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on her face- it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The person sitting there giggled.

I'd noticed that her eyes were black- coal black.

Mrs Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, she had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by her, bewildered by the antagonistic stare she'd just given me. I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw her posture change from the corner of my eye. She was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of her chair and averting her gaze like she smelled something bad. Inconspicuously I sniffed my hair. It smelled like my shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough scent. I let my hair fall over my face- glad I hadn't cut it yet- and let my overgrown fringe make a small curtain between us, as I tried to pay attention to the teacher.

Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down. I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the strange girl next to me. During the whole class she never relaxed her position on the edge of her chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see her hand on her left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under her pale skin. The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was coming to a close, or because I was waiting for her tight fist to loosen? It never did; she continued to sit so still it looked like she wasn't breathing. What was wrong with her? Was this her normal behaviour? I questioned my judgement on Joshua's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe he wasn't as resentful as I'd thought.

It couldn't have anything to do with me. She didn't know me from Adam.

I peeked at her one more time and regretted it. She was glaring up at me again, her black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from her, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly entered my mind. At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Elizabeth Cullen was out of her seat. Fluidly she rose- she was smaller than I'd thought- her back to me, and she was out of the door before anyone else was out of their seat. I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after her. She was so brutal. I began gathering up my things slowly trying to block the anger that filled me.

"Aren't you Benjamin Swan?" a female voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute baby faced girl, her pale blond hair straightened and pinned orderly, smiling at me in a friendly way. She obviously didn't think I smelled bad.

"Ben," I corrected her with a smile.

"I'm May"

"Hi, May."

"Do you need any help finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to the gym actually. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class too." She seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; she was a chatterer- she supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. She was the nicest person I'd met today. But as we were entering the gym she asked, "So did you stab Elizabeth Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen her act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And apparently, that wasn't Elizabeth Cullen's usual behaviour. I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the girl I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.

"Yes," she said. "She looked like she was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded, "I never spoke to her."

"She's a weird girl." May lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

I smiled at her before walking through the boys locker room door. She was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation. The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform, but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of P.E were required. Here, P.E was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth. I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained- and inflicted- playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated. The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself. When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Elizabeth Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. She didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood leaning against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free. She was arguing with him in her seamless attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. She was trying to trade from six-hour biology to another time- any other time. I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on her face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could takes such a sudden intense dislike to me. The door opened again and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swishing my hair about in my face- I really should ask Charlie to cut it out of the way, I thought. The boy who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket and walked out again. But Elizabeth Cullen's back had stiffened, and she turned slowly to glare at me- her face was absurdly beautiful- with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. She turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind then," she said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thankyou so much for your help." And she turned on her heel without another look at me and disappeared out the door. I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip.

"How did your first day go?" the receptionist asked fatherly.

"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. He didn't look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life, ready to take me back to Charlie's house.

A/N: So, if you are familiar with Twilight you may have noticed that I've changed a bit more than just tacking "s" onto "he". Originally I wanted to keep it that way, but then there were some bits that obviously wouldn't have made much sense, eg: Descriptions of characters and their names. The part I've taken the most licence with is our "Benjamin" crying all the time. Maybe I should've left it for posterity's sake. Really makes ya think about gender stereotyping and what-not, and highlights just how annoying it was when it was "Bella" doing all the tearing up. But- I also wanted to make the characters at least a little less sooky, so I've kept it the way it is now.

I have a feeling the story is going to get better when our tsundre "Elizabeth" character gets more air-time.

I hope some of you out there have taken at the very least a little enjoyment out of this project. =^.^=