A/N: This is technically a future fic I guess. I don't think there are any spoilers past twilight but don't take my word for it.
Disclaimer: I am not Stephenie Meyer.
On my first day of school, the first things I noticed were their cars. I was driving my beat up gold, whose best days had long past, as I pulled into a sea of similarly crappy cars. But two stood out from the rest: All in a row, in one of the farthest corners of the student lot at Lakeview High, were a candy apple red Lexus convertible and a shiny black Volvo.
Just as the red car pulled into its space two silver doors swung gracefully open. On the driver's side was a boy, bronze hair, strong, masculine features, a killer body, and skin so pale that I was shocked when I couldn't see the veins. On the passenger's side was a girl slightly less graceful. Just as she looked about to trip she corrected herself within a fraction of a second, as if her body had done it for her. Her chestnut hair shone, hanging perfectly down her back in a way that my frizzy mess never would. Her dark jeans and smoky blue shirt were the picture of casual elegance-she looked as though she had stepped out of the pages of a magazine; each and every article of clothing was understatedly designer.
Out of the red car stepped four more of my future classmates, in varying stages of perfection. The pale blonde was first. Her beauty was surprising, but it hadn't caught me off guard. Next the burly brunette, his hair just starting to curl in its close-cropped style. He followed her around like a lost puppy, but her body language indicated that she felt the same way when her blank face did not. Another blonde-his shaggy hair framed his pale face. He walked hand in hand with a short girl, her elfin features and spiky black hair were unique, but she pulled it off.
And so for longer than I needed to I sat in my car, watching these six walk gracefully into the school building, as if the ground was nothing more than a convenience.
None of them were in my first class.
Second period was French. I awkwardly stumbled in, sitting in the first available seat I saw. An animated honey blonde started firing questions at me rapidly. I faked interest to at least try to make friends, all the while keeping my eyes on the two chalk-white people sitting quietly in the back. As the teacher called attendance, I listened for their names.
"Edward Cullen?"
"Present." His voice was like velvet.
"Isabella Masen?"
"Here." Hers was silk.
Class went on. The teacher droned on and on about pronouns. I'd had enough qui est-ce que's to last me a lifetime. The teacher asked me to use one in a sentence: I managed to awkwardly let a partially incorrect sentence tumble out of my mouth. The teacher let my error slide, ignoring the poor pronunciation.
It was his turn next.
He responded in perfect French, utilizing ce que in a way that we had yet to go over. The girl next to him looked distracted; the teacher called on her next. She replied in an equally flawless manner, with a nonchalance that would have screamed boredom had it not been for the pleased expression on her face. I could see them, murmuring, their lips moving so fast yet so discreetly it was impossible to know what they were saying. The bell rang. They walked side by side out the door and down the hallway. I stared, unable to look away, until I was caught up in the clamor and tried to find my way to the next class.
When I made it to psych 101 the blonde boy was already sitting at one of the many desks scattered throughout the room. The bell rang again, and class continued. His philosophical and careful responses seemed to escape everyone else's notice but mine. Maybe they were used to it.
I see them in the hallway. Indifferent to their surroundings, walking without emotion or thought.
It was lunch. The blonde, who was in my fourth class, waved me over to her table. She made idle chatter and I responded, but my far off look didn't get past her.
"Oh," she said. "Those are the Cullens. Well the big one is Emmett Cullen; he is so strong! The one with the reddish hair is Edward, and the one with the spiky hair is Alice. The blonde one, with the perfect hair that I am insanely jealous of, that's Rosalie Hale. Isn't that such a pretty name? And that's her brother, Jasper," she sighed dreamily. "Oh, and the one leaning against Edward is Bella Masen. She might not be as pretty as Rosalie but she's just so, I don't know, perfect! All of the teachers love her or something."
"Interruption or intervention is futile," chipped in the redhead from across the table. "They keep to themselves, and they're all you know…together," she whispered.
"They're all adopted or something, it is such a weird situation. Their dad is only like thirty something, and he is so handsome! He's the chief of surgery at the hospital. They live in this absolutely huge mansion right outside of town. It's insane."
A mansion. Figures. I sat silently, trying to wrap my head around the situation. And then I had an epiphany.
I am only human.