Twilight Recalibrated

Hello reader. This is the first chapter of my adaptation of Stephenie Meyer's latest book "Twilight Reimagined" but with a twist (more than one, actually, by I don't want to spoil things). For those of you who don't know or haven't read the book, "Twilight Reimagined" is essentially a retelling of the original Twilight story but with most of the characters gender-swapped. For example, Bella becomes Beaufort and Edward becomes Edythe, but the plot is the same (for the most part).

No copyright infringement intended. Feel free to comment. Enjoy!

Update: I'll be publishing the first chapter of Evening Star on February 27. It tells the story from Edythe's point of view. I'll plan to reveal a few things in that story that I haven't gotten to in this one, so I'd recommend reading that one as well. Also, I made Ms. Varner a somewhat more belligerent character, in line with her rendition in Midnight Sun.

The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination- Albert Einstein

Finally here.

Not that there was much to look at. Forks was about as far removed from Phoenix as it was possible to be. It rained in this inconsequential part of Washington State more than any other part of the US, and the clouds almost never went away. And who names a town after a piece of silverware? It wasn't good for tourism, though that was probably a lost cause anyway. But it had to be better than Phoenix. The only real question was whether leaving that horrible place was worth staying away from my mother. We'd always gotten along, and she had been with me even in the worst of times. I told myself that she was in good hands; Phil was levelheaded as well as patient. He'd make sure she didn't do anything too irrational.

My dad, Charlie, picked me up in the airport after I took another flight to Port Angeles from Seattle. I'd always gotten along well with him; he was efficient and did not chatter, like me. And he was a police chief, which was nice, if a little intimidating sometimes. He'd already registered me in high school, and as we drove home, I began to think earnestly about how differently my life would be here.

Better, I thought. I'll have much more time to think about my life without worrying about the bills gettings paid and hanging around people I despise.

We talked about my time in Phoenix and how my mother was handling her new relationship. But mostly we drove together in silence, which was fine by me.

The biggest disappointment wouldn't be the change in weather or the lack of friends here, but the fact that the high school I'd now be going to was much smaller, which meant fewer classes to choose from. It was unlikely they had AP classes here, but one could still hope.

Charlie broke the silence. " I found a good car for you. It wasn't expensive, but I think you'll like it."

"Really?" I asked. "Thanks Dad!" I'd never been a huge fan of driving, but it would be nice to have some independence for once.

"You're not going to ask what kind of car?" Charlie inquired.

"Why? The fact that you got me one is good enough for me. I've never had a car of my own before. As long as it works, I'm happy".

When we arrived at Forks, I couldn't help staring out the windows. I'd never seen so much green before; the trees were covered in moss and the ground was blanketed with ferns. It was quite beautiful, but it felt like a different planet compared to Phoenix. Like Kashyyyk, or Endor, I thought half-jokingly.

Eventually we got home; the same two-story house where I was raised. There, parked on the street, was my "new" car, or truck, rather. I studied it intently. It was old (something told me I didn't want to know how old) but very sturdy-looking. What it lacked in style it made up for in structural integrity; I doubted the truck would suffer much damage in the event of a collision, which was good because I wasn't the safest driver around. Overall, it looked like a decent ride.

"It's nice. Thanks again, Dad" I said, and meant it.

"Glad you like it", he replied.

I began taking my belongings to my new room, but my mind was pondering the proof of Taylor's Theorem for single variables, the most recent mathematical proof I'd forced myself to learn. It had vexed me since I got to the airport and bumped into those idiots, and I still couldn't go through all of the steps in my mind. Something was missing, but what was it? It seemed straightforward enough: apply L'Hopital's rule and differentiate repeatedly to show that the limit of h as x approaches a equals 0, but I couldn't visualize it. After a while, I gave up. Hopefully Forks High School would have a well-stocked library, or I would really be frustrated.

I got ready for school the next day and drove in my truck for the first time. I was afraid I might not find the school, but I overestimated the size of this backwater town. The school itself was less than impressive, but that was to be expected considering that it only had 358 students, including me. After parking, I walked towards the front entrance. I wasn't nervous at all; I only hoped that the teachers were competent and that the students wouldn't get in my way.

I retrieved my schedule as well as a map of the school from the front office and went on my way to English, my first class.

The classroom was small, which was good, since it meant more one-on-one interaction. I handed the slip I'd been given to the teacher, Ms. Mason, and smiled. She merely nodded at me and sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me in front of the class, which was a relief.

I looked at the reading list: it had all of the classics you'd expect in a well-rounded English class. I was glad that this teacher at least had her priorities straight, although I'd already read almost everything on the list.

When the bell rang, a pale, skinny girl with epidermal issues and jet-black hair leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Beaufort Swan, aren't you?" She came across as an overeager, chess-club type.

"Beau," I corrected. Suddenly everyone within earshot turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" she asked

"Building six," I replied calmly. "Government, with Jefferson. Should be interesting."

I ignored the rest of the students, who continued to look at me with inordinate curiosity.

"I've never heard anyone say that about Government! Anyway, I'm heading toward building four. I could show you the way…I'm Erica, by the way".

"Thanks". I didn't need her following me, but I wished to remain courteous.

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. Several students appeared to be walking a little too close, but I chose not to pay attention.

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

"Yes." Couldn't she take a hint?

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

"Well, it's in the Sonoran Desert, so no. The annual precipitation is around 180 millimeters; the national average is around 940."

"What's it like?" she asked, sounding astonished.

"Hot and dry," I responded.

"Well, you have a nice tan. I could use a trip to Phoenix," she joked.

I smiled at her, though I'd long since lost interest in the conversation. Suddenly I couldn't wait to get to class. We continued until we got to the south buildings by the gym. Erica followed me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck, although I really don't think you'll need it," she said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together". She sounded hopeful.

"Maybe," I replied politely, and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same way. My worst fears were confirmed: there were no AP classes. In fact, the most advanced math course I could take was Trigonometry, which I considered an insult. I'd already learned multivariable calculus; having to go back to Trigonometry was the equivalent of forcing a 13-year-old to learn how to count again.

My instructor for trigonometry, Ms. Varner, was also the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I explained that I was the top student at my former high school and that I'd won a number of prizes in math and physics as well as chemistry. The students were flabbergasted, though I noticed the teacher didn't seem particularly pleased. "Well, Beau," she replied with a tight smile. "Let's see if you're as smart as you think you are." She had no idea who she was dealing with.

After several classes I began to recognize some of the faces in each room. Usually there was someone who would ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I answered politely, but honestly. But most importantly, I let everyone know that my name was Beau, not Beaufort. I didn't think I would ever forgive my mother for giving me such a horrible name.

One individual sat next to me in Trigonometry and Spanish, and he walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. He was shorter than I was and had extremely curly hair. I couldn't remember his name (or any other student's name), so I smiled and nodded as he rattled on about teachers and classes.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of his friends, who he introduced to me. They seemed to approve of the fact that he'd invited me, though I made little effort to remember their names. The girl from English, whose name could barely recall (Erica, I think), waved at me from across the room, and they all laughed. I laughed as well, pretending to be amused.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, thinking about Taylor's Theorem (again) that I first saw them.

They were seated in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible. There were five of them. They weren't talking or eating, though they each had a tray of 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. And stare at them I did.

There were 3 girls, one of whom was very tall. She had dark, curly hair and was built like an athlete. The other one had honey-colored hair hanging to her shoulders, less tall than the brunette but still well above average. She didn't seem entirely stable, and I made a mental note not to cross paths with this individual. The last girl was smaller, with metallic bronze hair of a hue I'd never seen before. She looked younger than the other two, who looked like they should have been in college.

The two males were opposites. The taller one I estimated was at least 1.7 meters and had straight gold hair wound into a bun on the back of his head, a rather peculiar hairstyle, though I was not one to judge such things. The other male was shorter and thinner, with dark hair buzzed so short it looked like a shadow across his scalp.

They all looked different and yet strangely similar. They were all extremely, almost unnaturally pale. They all had very dark eyes-black, it seemed, from my vantage point. They all had deep shadows under their eyes, which implied sleep deprivation.

But that wasn't why I couldn't look away. I kept staring at them because they were insanely, inhumanly beautiful, the males and the females. I'd known plenty of attractive students in Phoenix, but none of them even came close to the five students I was seeing now.

The one I felt drawn to the most was the smaller girl with the metallic bronze hair. I wasn't sure why; they were all extremely good-looking. But she seemed perfect somehow, in a really disturbing way.

They all seemed detached from reality, and as I watched, the shorter of the two males rose with his tray - food untouched - and walked away with a quick, graceful lope. I continued to watch as he dumped his tray and glided through the back door, faster than I'd have thought possible.

Well that was a waste of food, I thought, but I continued to look at the others, who hadn't moved.

"Who are they?" I asked the student from Spanish.

As he looked up to see who I meant, the shorter girl suddenly looked at us. She looked at my neighbor for a split second, then her dark eyes flickered to mine. Long eyes, angled up at the corners, thick lashes.

She looked away quickly, faster than I could, though I'd dropped my stare as soon as she 'd glanced our way. She didn't seem remotely interested in me, which was just as well. I didn't have time for romance, and I certainly wasn't stupid enough to think I could ever be with someone like her.

My neighbor explained, and for once I listened closely (his name was Jeremy, apparently). They were the Cullens and the Hales. Edith and Eleanor Cullen, Jessamine and Royal Hale, and Archie Cullen. They lived with Dr. Cullen and her husband. While the Cullens had been adopted, the Hales, who were twins, were apparently foster kids (though rather old foster kids, I thought).

I carefully considered all of this. "They're seem rather isolated, don't they?"

"Yeah!" Jeremy agreed. "But they've always been like that. They're pretty weird".

Interesting. " So have they always lived in Forks?" I asked.

"No. They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska".

Alaska. "Hey, did you know that in the northernmost regions of Alaska, and inside the Artic Circle more generally, nights can last more than 24 hours? In Kiruna, Sweden, for example, night lasts for almost 28 days during the winter, and the day lasts about 50."

"Wow", he replied. "I'd go crazy living in a place like that".

"I imagine they're used to it." Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the bronze-haired girl looking at me, this time with obvious curiosity. I pretended not to notice her, but it seemed, as I looked back at Jeremy, that her look held some kind of unanswered expectation. In fact, as she continued to stare she began to look frustrated, for reasons unknown.

I decided to put it out of my mind. I doubted she was more intelligent than any of the other students, and in any case, I had things to do.

I left lunch with Allen, one of Jeremy's friends, who happened to be going to the same class I was, namely Biology II. I'd honestly never found biology to be that interesting, at least at the high school level; I was more of a math and physics geek.

When we entered class, Allen went to sit at a black-topped lab exactly like the ones I used in Phoenix. He already had a neighbor, it seemed. In fact, all of the tables were filled except one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized the girl with the metallic bronze hair sitting next to the single open seat. Go figure.

As I walked down the aisle to do my required intro for the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching her out of the corner of my eye. Just as I passed, she suddenly went rigid in her seat. Her face jerked up toward mine surprisingly fast, staring at me with a look of fury, of hostility. Fascinating.

"Can I help you?" I asked equably. She immediately turned away, but her expression did not change, and as I sat down I heard an "ooooh" from one of the students in the back. Imbecile.

I'd been right about the eyes. They were completely black.

Mrs. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions or mention of my full name, which was good. That would be the last thing I needed from a class I didn't even particularly like. I went to sit by the bronze bimbo (that would be my nickname for her from now on), not bothering to look at her as I set my book on the table and took my seat. I noticed her change in posture, leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of her chair and averting her face as if she smelled something repugnant. It was all I could do to keep from laughing; seriously, what was wrong with this idiot? I'd never even met her before, and now she was acting as if I smelled like manure (which I most certainly did not; I was very particular about my hygiene).

The lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I knew this wasn't going to keep my attention, so I decided to write down the Taylor proof and see if I finally got it right. But before I did, I had to satisfy my curiosity.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked her.

No response. Whatever.

I focused on the problem at hand. I wrote most of the proof from memory, but there was still a missing detail. What was it? I resisted the temptation to yank at my hair. Alright, maybe there was another way. This time I used the Fundamental Theorem of Calculus. The proof seemed to build itself until I hit another roadblock, this time in finding the Lagrange form of the remainder for R(x). Dammit. My gaze wandered around. Maybe there was something here that would trigger an epiphany. I decided to look at the bronze bimbo again (actually it was hard not to look when I wasn't thinking about math). She had not relaxed her stiff position on the edge of her chair, sitting as far from me as possible, with her hair hiding most of her face. Her hand was clenched into a fist on top of her left thigh, tendons standing out under her pale skin. She had the sleeves of her white Henley pushed up to her elbows, and her forearm flexed with surprisingly hard muscle beneath her pale skin. Her skin was unnaturally perfect; there were no freckles or scars that I could see.

Honestly, I thought. How much money did she spend on cosmetic surgery? She couldn't even wait until finishing high school. Kids these days. Her parents were probably extremely wealthy, which would explain why she was such a narcissistic - wait, that's it! Extreme. Extreme Value Theorem, and Intermediate Value Theorem! That was the breakthrough I needed to finish the proof. I went back to writing and did not stop until I was finally finished. There, I thought. Math is beautiful. How had Einstein described it? The poetry of logical ideas, that was it. Each theorem was based on another. Even the most complicated result built upon simple premises.

I relaxed and leaned back against my chair. It was funny; I almost felt like thanking the bimbo; it might have taken me much longer if she hadn't been there.

Mrs. Banner began handing out graded quizzes; she handed me one to give to the girl. I couldn't resist the impulse to glance at the top-100%- and I noticed her name was Edythe Cullen. So bronze bimbo does have a name after all, and an odd one.

I glanced at her as I slid the paper over and noticed her glaring at me again, her eyes full of revulsion. I sighed inwardly; yet another reason to avoid relationships. How would I ever handle this crap?

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, which took me by surprise, and Edythe Cullen was out of her seat. She moved like a dancer, every perfect line of her slim body in harmony with all the others, her back to me, and she was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat. I stayed in my seat, pensive.

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

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced girl, with flat-ironed blond hair, smiling at me in a friendly way. It was certainly a welcome change.

"Beau," I corrected, smiling back.

"I'm McKayla."

"Hi."

We started talking, which I was surprised to find was something I actually wanted to do right about now. She was very nice; I thought we might actually be friends, even though she did not seem particularly bright.

Ass we were entering the gym she asked, "So, did you stab Edythe Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen her act like that".

"The bronze bimbo?" I asked. "No, I'd never even met her before."

"Is that what you call her?" McKayla laughed.

"She doesn't deserve another name, "I said flatly. "At least not until she explains why she's acting that way."

"She's weird." McKayla got rather uncomfortably close. "If I got to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

"I'll keep that in mind". Could she be any more obvious? I walked through the boys' locker room door to Gym class, my own personal hell if there ever was one.

After I was done with that ordeal, I walked towards the office to return my paperwork. When I went inside, I suddenly froze.

Edythe Cullen stood at the desk in front of me; the hair was impossible to miss. She didn't seem to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood close to the back wall, waiting for her to finish.

She was arguing with him in a low, velvety voice. I quietly picked up the gist of the argument. She was trying to switch from sixth-hour Biology to another time-any other time.

You and me both, I thought. Actually I never wanted Biology at all. Physics would've been a thousand times better, but apparently it was full.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, waving through my hair. The girl who came in placed a note in the wire basket and walked out again. But bimbo's back stiffened, and she turned slowly to glare at me- damn, she was good-looking-with piercing, hate-filled eyes. I actually began to feel afraid of her. As if she were going to pull a gun out and shoot me. But of course that was ridiculous, and if the bimbo did attack me, I could easily take her down. So why did I still feel afraid?

She suddenly turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind then," she said quickly in a voice like silk. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help". She then turned on her heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

Momentarily distraught, I went to the front desk, and handed him the signed slip.

"How did your first day go, son?" he asked.

Regaining my composure, I thought for a moment about everything that had happened: the Cullens, the Hales, and Edythe staring at me as if she wanted to kill me (and who knows, maybe she did).

I stared at a spot somewhere above his head. "It was...very interesting. "

Author's note- Aside from obvious differences in personality and interests, you may have noticed that I changed Beau's skin color from white to tan. I did this for two reasons:he lived in Phoenix most of his life, and I found it somewhat difficult to believe that so many girls would be attracted to someone as pale as he is (or was). Anyway, thanks for reading the first chapter!