((AN: Just something I did one night. What if someone came into Edward's life before Bella? And I'm not saying there won't be Bella because there will be.))

Her sneakers.

They were white, with blue stripes, and the bottoms were black. There was a little blue Nike sign on the top of them. They were safe, and if she just kept looking at them, maybe she wouldn't have to see everyone staring at her, everyone looking at her like she was a time bomb who was just ticking away the seconds until she'd go crazy, rip off her clothes and start hurling lunchroom spaghetti at everyone, or maybe just stand up and leave and not come back.

Last year, first day of Freshman year, he'd sat with her at lunch. They were best friends, and it had been what they'd done in middle school, only that year it had been something more. Every day they'd sat together, unless the other was sick. Toward the end of the year, his absences had been more frequent.

But this year, she was alone. Alone, and he wouldn't be coming back tomorrow or the next day. So she sat, picking at her spaghetti and not eating. Soon the bell would ring and she could go to English class—the class they'd wanted to take together, when they planned their schedules together at the end of last year. She'd have been teasing him about reading Pride and Prejudice, and then he'd have poked her ribs in that way he always did, affectionate but not gooey.

*

She could feel the teacher looking at her with sympathy eyes as soon as she walked into the room. Tables were arranged in a u-shape, with the open side at the whiteboard, and everyone else was seated already.

"Miss Williams, please take your seat next to Mr. Cullen…"

The teacher, a youngish woman who was thin and timid-looking, was clearly skirting around her. It was as Caroline had expected—all of her teachers had been warned.

Grieving. Emotional. Depressed.

They all meant the same thing: watch out.

The seat she'd been directed to—the only open one in the room—was next to a boy who looked like he could have easily been a junior. The seat was on the end of the row of tables, and Caroline swept a curtain of ash-blonde hair between her and her neighbor, so that she wouldn't have to talk to him. She didn't want anyone talking to her out of pity.

It wasn't to be, however, as the teacher's first order of business was to have everyone introduce themselves to the person sitting next to them. Caroline turned to him, and her jaw almost dropped in shock. He was gorgeous. Not in that beefy all-American way, in the cover-of-a-magazine way that you always were convinced was airbrushed.

Evidently not. She extended a small, pale hand.

"Caroline Williams."

"Edward Cullen." He didn't take her hand, so she withdrew it. He was looking at her oddly, as if she'd forgotten to put pants on or something. She flushed self-consciously and turned to the syllabus that had been laid in front of her, putting the hair between them again. Another one looking at her like she was crazy.

She dragged her finger down the list of books they'd be reading, but instead of smiling like she'd have done last year, she exhaled defeatedly. The list never changed; he'd gotten it from his older sister and they'd looked it over together freshman year, laughing at some titles, wondering at others, cringing at the rest.

"I'd like everyone to stand up individually, give us your name and one thing about yourself." The teacher said brightly, still eyeing Caroline warily. They made the way around the room, even though nearly all of them had known each other since preschool. Neighbor boy stood and informed them that he'd moved there from Alaska, and that he was a junior. Caroline even spotted Jennifer and Becky eyeing him like he was a piece of meat, which almost made her smile to herself.

She stood, her chair making scraping sounds on the linoleum.

"Caroline Williams, and no, I'm not going to flip on the crazy switch and slice my wrists with the paper cutter." She said flatly, before sitting back down. Everyone stared in horror—everyone, that is, except for neighbor boy. He was looking at the table, and he was smiling. Weird kid.

"L-let's just get on with class, shall we?" Suggested the teacher, looking as if she was afraid Caroline might eat her. Caroline looked evenly back. Neighbor boy was still smiling that weird little smile.

Actual class commenced with the passing out of books and review of the syllabus, reminding them of course expectations and all that good first-day stuff. They'd all heard it at least five times today, and Caroline was thankful when the bell rang for the next period. Photo. She was good at photo, and now that she had taken Art 1 she could take the course, photo 2 next semester, and AP the year after.

It wasn't until she was halfway to the art rooms that she realized neighbor boy, Edward, was following her. Rolling her eyes, she walked faster, but felt stupid once she realized at roll call that he was in her class.

The photo teacher, Ms. Portman, didn't seem to have gotten the memo about the Sensitive Case in her class, of if she had she hadn't paid any mind, and that pleased Caroline. She also didn't believe in talking over doing, so today she was setting them loose with digital cameras to take pictures of whatever they found on campus.

"The class this semester is bigger than I'm used to, and I don't have enough cameras for you all to have one, so Maria and Allison, you'll be pairing up, along with Caroline and Edward…"

Caroline practically groaned. Really?

Caroline and Edward both moved to take their camera as Ms. Portman held it out. Each glanced at the other for a long second, until Edward gestured for Caroline to take it. Caroline nodded for reasons she hadn't quite identified (thanks, perhaps) and began moving out of the classroom.

"Just as long as you're back by the end of the day, folks!" Were Ms. Portman's cheery parting words.

They walked in silence until they were outside. It was overcast, but warm, and the ground was spongy but not muddy under her sneakers. She tensed in surprise when he spoke.

"You live on Treegap, over by the old bridge, right?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah. Why?"

"I live on Brookside."

So they were neighbors in more than just English Literature.

"Your parents are holding a welcoming party for us." He continued, as if prompting her to speak.

"Cool." Was the only response she gave, as she snapped a picture of an upside-down marigold head that had snapped off its stem. "When'd you move in?"

"About two weeks ago."

She vaguely remembered her parents saying something about a new family moving in.

"So you're a junior."

He nodded in the affirmative as she glanced up from where she'd been taking snaps of a line of ants.

"Then why're you in English lit?"

"My school in Alaska had us taking American last year."

She nodded and handed him the camera so he could take some. "Do you have any siblings?" He asked.

Caroline shook her head. "Just me. You?"

"Four." She blinked, looking at him strangely. "I'm adopted," he explained.

"Oh." She said softly, nodding. It was the first normal conversation she'd had in months.

The rest of the bell passed largely in silence. Once in a while they'd hand off the camera and exchange a few words, but she appreciated that he wasn't trying to get her to "connect," or whatever it was the counselors had told her she needed to do.

"Alright, folks," chirped Ms. Portman once everyone was back in the classroom, "I'll just upload these to the photo computers, and you'll be working with them tomorrow. Have a good afternoon!"

They got out five minutes early. Half an hour later, Caroline was still sitting on the curb, waiting for her mom to get there. IPod playing, homework sitting in her backpack untouched. For not the first time, she wished her mother would just buy her a cellphone already—not that she had anyone to call, but it'd be nice to know when her mother was working later than expected. She slung the bag over her shoulder and was preparing to wait in the library when neighbor boy—Edward, who didn't look at her like she was crazy—stopped as if expecting to speak with her. She blinked expectantly and he looked at her funny for a second.

"Do you have a ride?" He asked, and she got the feeling he was subtly offering.

"My mom'll be here eventually."

"Your house is on the way back to mine." There it was. Why he was so insistent she had no idea.

She furrowed her eyebrows. "You drive?"

"I'm pretty old for a Junior."

She nodded, mulling it over. "I guess. Thanks."

So it was that somehow, without ever actually offering, he'd gotten her into his shiny silver Volvo, headed at way over the speed limit toward their houses, listening to classical music. They didn't talk, like in photo. She just looked at her sneakers. They were safe.