"Hot summer streets
And the pavements are burning
I sit around

Trying to smile
But the air is so heavy and dry

Strange voices are saying
What did they say
Things I can't understand
It's too close for comfort
This heat has got right out of hand"

-Bananarama "Cruel Summer"

At nine twenty in the morning my alarm clock woke me up from my deep sleep. It was the first day of junior year. Great.

I reached my arm out from under the covers and overestimated the amount of force I used and also my aim was a little off. Instead of effectively turning off my alarm, I hit the side of my bed table, sending my alarm clock flying. Son of a bitch I thought as I rubbed my smarting hand. Not even awake five minutes and I've already managed to hurt myself. No sense in trying to sleep five extra minutes now. I swung my legs over the side of my bed and sat there for a few minutes. It was September first, the morning air warm, but not hot. The summer air already started to turn into autumn.

My alarm clock continued to shriek and beep on the floor. I bent over to pick it up, and instead of turning it off I carried it with me to my father Charlie's room. I opened his door to find him face down in his bed with the covers and empty beer bottles carelessly thrown around the room. Lovely.

I set the alarm clock down by his head on the bed and began to wake him up. "Wake up, daddy dearest. You're wasting another day. The world may end if you don't grace them with your winning smile and charming personality."

"Get out," Charlie grumbled. Now, as the sweet and merciful daughter I am, I decided to let daddy dearest sleep in, or at least I would have if I wasn't lying about being sweet and merciful.

"Dad, get up. You need to find a job. We're out of food."

"You work. You pay for the food."

"And the electric bill, water bill, school, the house, college, and clothing. I'm not going to buy you any more beer. That you'll have to get yourself."

"What good are you?"

"I ask myself that every day," I called back to him as I walked to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror as I waited for my shower to reach the perfect temperature. Plain brown eyes, plain pale skin, plain brown hair. Any normal girl would obsess over how plain they are or even throw themselves a pity party. I'm not a normal girl. I feel safe with the security of having a plain, predictable face. I don't like drawing unnecessary attention. I prefer to be a wallflower.

When my shower was in between flaming and steamy, I peeled off my clothes and got in. I first washed my body and face, then moved on to my hair, and finally I shaved my armpits and legs. For the remainder of my allowed ten minute shower, I stood there and enjoyed the hot water pellet against my face. I turned around and let it massage my back. I liked watching the water drip from the tip of my nose. I would need this before I walked back through the gates of hell, otherwise known as school.

This was my junior year, and I still didn't have my license. I would have to depend on my friend Edward to drive me to and from school. I tried to get my license, but it seems like the world just hated me. After the sixth drivers test, I just said screw it and walked away. I'm not a bad driver, I just had the most unfortunate luck. Every time I had No Pass Patty as my instructor. The first test was during a snow storm, the second during a rainstorm, and the rest was during a bright and sunny day. Of course, the only time it's sunny in Forks is when I have the most rotten luck. Now I don't trust the sun whenever it comes out.

My ten minutes were up. I reluctantly turned off the shower and reached for my towel. I dried myself off and wrapped the towel around me. I stepped carefully out of the shower and onto the bathmat.

I brushed my hair and got dressed. Fifteen minutes until Edward would be here. I dressed in a pair of partially ripped skinny jeans, a striped faded purple and blue T-shirt, and brown combat boots. I even went a little nuts and went as far as to put on some ear rings and a silver cross on a long chain necklace. I dried my hair because I cannot stand wet hair, even when the weather is moderately warm. I let my hair fall naturally, long and wavy and topped it off with a gray beanie. I went across the hall again to check on my deadbeat father. Still in bed where I left him.

As I went downstairs, shaking my head in disgust at the fat tub of lard I call a father, I began to think about this year at school. I didn't have many credits left to graduate. I had all my math, all my science. All that was left was government and English. When selecting classes for this year, I made sure to steer clear of math and gym, and pick all English electives. Lord, help me Jesus. By the end of this year my writing hand will be incredibly buff.

Upperclassmen didn't have to show up at seven thirty today like any normal school day. The faculty wanted to humiliate the freshmen first with team building workshops set up in the gym. Every year the school hires a public speaker to "motivate" the freshmen on the first day and then do some team building. Good luck with that. Freshmen are the devil incarnate.

Just as I finished my "healthy and nutritious" breakfast of Oreos and crackers, Edward's car was outside waiting for me. I grabbed my bag and called out to Charlie. "Get your life together, old man!" The door slammed just as Charlie threatened to rip out my vocal cords.

"Bella! Bellllaaa!" Edward's younger and more lovable sister Alice cried out. She was practically hanging out of the front passenger seat's window. This girl lived for the first day of school. No one was more excited for the end of summer than she was. She was cut off from all the juiciest gossip for three months. Oh the horror.

As I got in the car, I was able to see Alice's outfit. "My God, you look like a highlighter!" Alice was wearing a highlighter bright, hot pink dress with a black belt, and-oh good Lord-red cowboy boots.

"Now, I know the boots don't match entirely, but it's a fashion statement. They totally look like the boots Lori Singer wore in the movie Footloose. The 1984 version with Kevin Bacon, not the one with Julianne Hough. Don't get me wrong, I liked the 2011 remake, but you can't beat the original. Unless you're Rob Zombie and you decide to remake Halloween, then that's perfectly fine," Alice gushed.

I put my head in my hands. "Dear Lord, Edward, please make her stop!"

I heard him snicker as he pulled away from the curb. "Alice, we get it. You have a vast knowledge of pop culture. Please, no more." Bless her heart, I love Alice. But because she is a year younger than everyone, it seems like instead of being more mature from hanging out with the older kids she instead took five steps back and never moved forward.

Alice huffed. "Geez, grumpy. It's not my fault your morning sucked. Don't have to take it out on me."

I lifted my head from my hands and smiled. "On the contrary, Alice, I had a splendid morning. Father and I exchanged words of encouragement for this long, agonizing day to come. Did you not hear him wish me a good day?"

Edward came to a stop at a red light and lost it. His laughs filled the entire Volkswagen. No one else got my sarcasm better than him. Alice did not appreciate it. "You know, you could always come live with us. Our parents are never home, they wouldn't mind."

I shook my head. "Nah, Charlie would die without me. I've already lost one parent, and I'm not counting on becoming an orphan anytime soon."

Edward looked at me through the rearview mirror. Edward knows never to pressure me to talk about my feelings and personal life. But sometimes he likes to break my one rule. "Charlie's been gone for the past four years now, Bells." He didn't mean physically gone. "Maybe you've done all you can to help."

"It's not your fault he lost it after Renee died," Alice interjected. "You need to stop punishing yourself."

"Guys, I'm not punishing myself. I want to stick it out until graduation. Then I'm out of here." I looked out the window and watched as we pulled into the school parking lot. "Can we just try to get through today in one piece?"

Edward and Alice exchanged a look and nodded. As soon as the car was parked, I shot out of the car like a bat out of hell. "Christ."

"Soap opera Bella at ten in the morning?" I heard a voice say from behind me. I turned around and there was my boyfriend, Jasper Whitlock. We've been dating since the end of the last school year. We never fought, we never disagreed, and I thought he was the one. Or, at least settled so I wouldn't have to be bothered to find someone else and go through the process of opening myself up again.

"Yes, and so the soap opera continues. Stay tuned to: The Days of Bella Swan's Life!" I said dramatically. Jasper smirked and put an arm around my shoulders. Jasper never really laughed at my jokes. He thought I had some kind of emotional disorder and shouldn't be laughing about it. It's no secret that I don't enjoy having feelings, but I don't think it's a disorder.

Edward on the other hand always found humor in my soap opera of a life. Edward was my closest friend. I knew he had a crush on me-which is probably why he always laughs at everything I say-but I don't have romantic feelings towards him. I've seen what love does to people, to best friends who become lovers, and I don't want to risk my friendship. My best girlfriend Rosalie and her boyfriend Emmett are a perfect example.

Speak of the devils, they were walking straight towards us from Emmett's white Jeep. Rose had everything. Beauty, brains, money, and most importantly, opportunity. She could do anything and everything she wanted. However, the only thing she wanted was Emmett.

"Ready to see what this year holds?" Rose asked excitedly. Alice and Rose both loved school, but for different reasons. Alice loved the gossip. Rose loved that school was like a runway. She looks like a model, and has no problem showing it off.

"Come on, Bella! I wanna see if you got into journalism!" Alice screeched. Journalism was a coveted class. It filled up fast and was hard to get into. You had to send in a four page portfolio on some of your writing. To say it was a stressful week of planning would be an understatement.

"You should have taken AP Creative Writing with me and Jasper," Edward said.

I wrinkled my nose. "No thanks. I'm not good at creative writing. I like writing about facts and reading someone else's creative writing."

"But you're a good writer," Edward prodded. I didn't know if he was trying to get me to take the next step up or if he really wanted me to take a class with him.

"I never said I wasn't." We walked inside the building towards the commons. Against the wall was a large table full of envelops listed in alphabetic order. I looked for the letter "S" for Swan. Found it! It was right next to Stanley…Jessica.

"Bella!" Jessica yelped in her fake sweet voice. If Gretchen Wieners and Karen Smith had a baby, Jessica would be it. I have nothing personal against Jess, she just annoys me. "Let's open our envelops together and see if we have any classes together!"

I was feeling generous. I'd play along. "Okay. One…two…three." We ripped open the envelops and opened our schedules. AP English, government, AP Pscyh, gothic literature, lunch, AP Creative Writing, sociology, and release. What. I looked at Jess's schedule and saw we both had government, lunch, and AP Creative Writing, and sociology. Yahoo.

"What? I never signed up for AP Creative Writing? Where's journalism? Why do I have a release when I requested a full schedule? Forks School District! Why have you forsaken me?" I cried out. I was tempted to get on my knees and scream to the heavens, but I remained my composer. For now.

Jess attempted a sympathetic look. "Maybe you could talk to your counselor? At least we have three classes and lunch together! See you in class, Bella!" she said over her shoulder as she skipped off to talk to Mike Newtown.

Edward and Jasper came over to compare schedules. They were just as flabbergasted as me. But no one was as devastated as Alice. "But you worked so hard to get into journalism! Where is it?!"

"Hey, there's something else in your envelop," Edward said. I frantically pulled out another folded piece of paper. Maybe this was all just a mistake. Maybe this is my real schedule. Maybe I don't have three classes and lunch with Jessica Stanley! Sadly, my dreams were shot.

Bella Swan

I'm sorry I can't speak to you face to face about your schedule. I'm swamped with freshmen.

I know you asked for journalism, but I could not fit that class into your schedule. FSD wouldn't allow you a full schedule. I'm sorry. I think your skills would be better utilized in AP Creative Writing. Give it a try. I think you might like it.

If you have any more questions, please feel free to drop by next week. My schedule is booked all this week. Again, I apologize.

Your counselor

Esme Platt

French the llama! Stupid backstabbing counselors and FSD. "You know guys, I'm just going to head off to class now and start sucking up to my teachers. Catch you on the flip side," I said as I threw my envelop behind my head and stalked off. I brooded for the rest of the day and ignored Jessica until lunch. By lunch time I felt a little better. I was determined to at least make an effort for the rest of the day. That is until I walked out of the lunch line and was pulled aside by Jasper.

"We need to talk," he said right before I was punched right in the feels. It was the break up talk.

. . .

I spent the rest of my lunch period crying for the first time in years. After Jasper broke up with me, I left the cafeteria. My high defenses were weakening. I walked calmly down the tiled hallways, past the freshman struggling to open his locker, and into the bathroom.

Tears and snot started flowing long before I even had a chance to cover the toilet seat with toilet paper and sit down. I ran over our break up a million times in my head.

"Bella, you're beautiful and you're a great person," Jasper said.

"No!" I said a little too loudly. "I know what you're doing, and I don't want to hear it."

"Bella, come on. Be mature about this," he begged. Christ, not even five minutes into "the talk" and he's already begging for me to let it go. And I can be mature! I'm the most mature person in this room.

"Lalalala!" I screamed with my fingers digging deep into my ears. My dramatics began to bring on a wave of stares from students sitting near us. "I'm not listening!"

"Real mature."

I unplugged one ear and looked at Jasper. "You wanna see mature? Try this." I then proceeded to turn my back to him, plugged my ears again, and started singing "Mary Had a Little Lamb" at the top of my lungs.

"For the love of God," Jasper yelled over the top of me. "Stop it already!" he put a hand over my mouth and effectively shut me up.

"I know what you're about to do," I began as I shoved his hand away from me. "Can't you just be a douchebag and text it to me. Or better yet, write it down on a piece of paper and make a paper airplane out of it. I'd much rather it be that than this."

Jasper crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at me. "Why does everything have to be so complicated with you? I'm trying to be a man and break up with you face to face, but you want me to be a jerk about it."

I viciously shook my head. "No, you were just about to give me the "it's not you, it's me" speech."

His arms dropped to his sides as he let out a frustrated breath. "I don't know what to say anymore."

"Would it make you feel better if I said I have a fear of rejection?" It was kind of true.

"You don't. Having a fear requires feelings, something you don't have, or at least, you do have feelings and you just won't let anyone know."

"Whatever, Jazzykins," I said with a yawn, a pat on his cheek, and an eye roll from Jasper.

Jasper has always been very perceptive of other people's feelings, but never mine. It was as if I had some kind of shield around me that prevented anyone from being let in. I wouldn't even let Rosalie in and she's been my best friend since birth. But Rosalie understood me. Better than Jasper or Edward or Alice-especially Alice. Alice thinks everything can be solved by double fudge ice cream and a marathon of Disney movies. She doesn't know what it's like to watch your mom die and then have your dad turn into a self-deprecating asshole. She doesn't know what it's like to have to fend for herself. She'll never know because she will always have Edward.

Edward and Alice's parents are English professors at the University of Forks. They are completely dedicated to their work-which is why Edward was named after Edward Rochester from Jane Eyre and Alice after Alice in Wonderland. They work long hours and refuse to commute to work every day. To solve that problem, they rented an apartment a block away from the university. The only time they come home is over Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. Edward takes care of Alice.

Alice thinks her parents send them money every month for expenses such as food, clothing, and shelter. They don't. They only pay for school and Edward's car. Edward pays for everything else. He has three jobs, he does the laundry, he does the cooking, he cleans, and he tries to tame Alice's eccentric behavior. As far as Alice knows, Edward just cooks and cleans. But Edward prefers it that way. He doesn't want to ruin Alice's idea of her parents-she's only sixteen. Edward is even willing to go to community college just to stay with Alice until she graduates. I give him a lot of credit.

Edward tries to understand me. However my problem is that I can't tell whether or not he's genuine. I know he's had a crush on me for forever, which makes it hard for me to know if he's doing it just because he likes me or if he genuinely wants to help. It's not a chance I want to take. Edward is one of those friends who is just so nice and sweet, you can't help but friendzone them because you know you're a mess and you never want to ruin your friendship. It's pretty shitty, but it must be done. Friendships like this don't come around often. Rosalie taught me never to date your best friend.

Rose and Emmett have been together since Rose was fourteen and Emmett was fifteen. They break up once a week, act like it's the end, and then get back together after causing hell. I will rip my hair out if I have to listen to Rose cry one more time about how Emmett doesn't want a commitment. You can obviously tell they love each other more than fat people love McDonald's, so why can't they just stay together? Why do they have to cause all of these problems?

I don't understand, and it's probably why I suck at relationships.

The bell rang and signaled the end of my pity party. I quick wiped my tears and left the bathroom. Next class: AP Creative Writing with Edward…and Jasper and Jessica Stanley. Lord Almighty, strike me down now.

The final bell rang just as I slithered into class. I kept my head down to avoid Jessica Stanley excitedly waving and bouncing in her seat. I finally made it to the last seat in the back by Edward and Jasper. Jasper thankfully avoided looking in my general direction, but Edward gave me a questioning look. "Where were you at lunch?" he asked.

"I had some business to attend to," I answered back. It didn't settle him any less, but thank the Lord there is a God because the teacher began speaking.

"Okay, this is AP Creative Writing, room #109. Block 6," the teacher said. His voice sounded as if he was reading the information off of a piece of paper, and when I looked up, he was. "Teacher…Mr. Cullen. Now, if you're not supposed to be here for block six, you should probably get to the appropriate class." He gave us a half smile and a half laugh. "You won't believe how many kids walked into the wrong class today."

Someone in the center of the class snickered and said, "Freshmen." Half of the class laughed along with the instigator. I did not. I was busy counting down the minutes until the bell rang. Fifty-four minutes. Dammit.

"My name is Mr. Cullen, but I don't believe in formalities. I would prefer it if you would all call me Mr. Carlisle," Mr. Cullen said. I'll start referring to him as Mr. Carlisle if I ever warms up to him. Stupid, nosy, counselors I thought. This year would be hell.

After Mr. Cullen had finished taking attendance, he began speaking to us about what he expected out of the class and what we would be accomplishing throughout the year. "Now, as you know, this is a creative writing class. I will not be giving you essay assignments." Oh really? I had no idea that wouldn't be expected of us, seeing as how this is creativewriting. "Once a month you will be given an assignment to write a short story. Each story will get harder and harder as the year advances until finally your last paper will be a paper on who do you think you are as a person."

Throughout the class, a collection of groans was heard. I still wasn't paying any attention, but I could feel the hatred and distress rising in the room. I actually started to feel bad for Mr. Cullen. You can tell in his voice he thought it was a good idea, but this is high school. High school students don't like anything related to school.

Mr. Cullen was unfazed, however. He continued, "It sounds like a shitty assignment." Okay, now my attention is on Mr. Carlisle. "You're teenagers. You don't know who you are or who you are going to be in the future. You only know who you were in the past. These assignments I'm giving you aren't busy work, and it's not something I'm doing just so I can keep my teaching license. The stories I want you to write will change you. Which brings me to my next proposal. The best story in the class will be handed out to all of you to read. We won't pick it apart for all the negative and make the author feel bad, but we will enjoy it and learn a little more about the author.

"I want all of these stories to be based off of a personal experience. Writers write what they know. I want to know what you know. These stories should become your babies. They should feel like something more than just a story. As soon as you learn how to do that, then you can call yourself a true fiction writer." Mr. Carlisle finished his speech, and there was not a disapproving face in the crowd. I don't know how, but Mr. Carlisle had just earned everyone's respect by implying that we know something worth writing.

Anyone who has ever been a teenager knows what I mean. Up until now, adults have kind of just assumed no one under the age of eighteen knows what they're talking about. Our opinions on life, love, and politics don't matter because we haven't lived as long as they have. But some of us have lived more life in five years than a person who has lived thirty or forty. No one knows what it's like to live now better than teenagers do. The problems remain the same throughout each generation, but the circumstances are in a never ending, changing loop. Any adult who seems to understand this certainly deserves my undying respect.

"But we won't just be writing fiction," Mr. Carlisle continued. "We'll also be writing also be writing about our greatest fear and for the seniors, I would like to know your opinions of your time here at Forks. My favorite assignment though is the autobiography. How can I expect you to tell me who you think you are now if you don't tell me who you used to be? But don't worry, the harder assignments will be due in the spring. For now, we'll start off easy. Anyone want to make a suggestion for September?"

The class remained quiet until damn that Jessica Stanley raised her hand. "We should write about romance!" she said dreamily. The girls in the class animatedly agreed with her suggestion while the boys in the class groaned. I rolled my eyes and added Jessica to my hit list.

"Any other suggestions?" Mr. Carlisle asked. Nothing. "Romance it is!" Another round of groans followed, but was interrupted by Mr. Carlisle's scolding. "Men, you can't complain. If you didn't like it, you should have suggested something else. Besides, you could be surprised at how well men can write romance. This assignment will be due on September 30th."

Jessica and her friend Lauren Mallory squealed. You could hear them chattering about their ideas from across the room. Mike Newtown and Eric Yorkie sat in front of me, and I could hear their ideas for a porno. I rolled my eyes and turned to face Edward, who in turn gave me a reassuring smile. "This could be fun. It's a nice change from essay writing, eh?"

Jasper scoffed. "Please, you're just excited you can write about your repressed love for Bella."

Edward glared at Jasper. "I don't love Bella. We're friends." Normally I would disagree-I knew he liked me-but today he sounded pretty convincing. It took me back a little, but as usual I was quick to recover.

"This day needs to be other soon. I can't take listening to Jessica and Lauren scream about their idea of the perfect guy," I grumbled. I looked at the clock again. Thirty seconds.

"Trust me, you don't want the day to be over," Edward said. "Rosalie and Emmett broke up again."

"What else is new?"

"This time is different. This time it's for good. Emmett completely humiliated her in the middle of the cafeteria. She was on her hands and knees begging for him to stay with her. Then he looked her dead in the eyes and said "I don't want you. You made my life hell" and then walked away. She's heart broken, and for once I'm actually on her side."

"Great. Well then I guess you won't have to take me home today, Edward. Tonight will be a double fudge Disney night." A part of me was a little jealous that instead of Alice hovering over me about my break up, she'd be busy with Rose. Not that I minded not having a vulture like Alice hanging over me, but still. It's the thought that counts. I wonder if she even knows my heart was ripped out of my chest too. The bell rang and Edward said goodbye to me. Jasper ignored me. I hope that wouldn't be a regular occurrence. Just for today, though.

After school I met with Edward, Rose, and Alice by Edward's car. Rose came to school with Emmett this morning. Good thing too, because I doubt she could see through all the tears and smeared eyeliner and mascara. The lucky bastard Edward escaped from Rose's teary wailing when we got to his house. I had to stay and listen to Rose recount her horrific lunch period. I felt bad for her and everything, but crying makes me feel uncomfortable. I was able to slip away when I said I would wait for the pizza guy downstairs.

When I crept down the stairs to the living room, I ran into Edward. "Wanna sit?" he asked while gesturing to the couch. I nodded. "Jasper isn't answering his phone and I don't really want to talk to Emmett."

"Please, for the love of all things good and holy, don't mention Emmett," I groaned. "I've already heard enough of the Emmett and Rosalie never ending saga."

Edward laughed. "Yeah, the walls are pretty paper thin. But for once Rose isn't exaggerating. It was that bad."

"So I heard."

"So," Edward said. "How was your day?"

"Not much better than Rose's. Besides the lack of public humiliation, my day sucked pretty badly too."

"I'm sorry you didn't get into journalism."

"It's not that. Jasper dumped me during lunch."

"Oh," Edward said uncomfortably. He began to fidget in his spot on the couch.

"Edward," I chuckled. "I'm not going to start crying. You know I don't cry."

"It will happen one day."

"Let's hope you won't be there to witness it," I said, knowing full well today was the day, and thanking my lucky stars no one was there to witness my humiliation.

Edward shook his head. "I don't know. I don't like seeing people cry, but I would want to be there for you. Maybe make you feel better."

I began to play with my fingernails as I tried to appear nonchalant. "I don't think that day will ever come. Jasper is convinced I don't have emotions."

"Ha!" Edward laughed out loud. "Well then it's a good thing you're not with him anymore. Jasper and I are friends-he's an alright guy-but you guys were never good for each other. I hate to say it, but I'm glad you aren't dating him."

"Happy that I'm single?" I challenged.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Exceedingly so."

Silence settled upon us. I liked these kinds of silences. It gave both of us room to breathe. Jasper hated silence. He always had to find some way to fill it. "Are you glad you're single now?" Edward asked after ten minutes.

I breathed a heavy sigh and said, "I guess. I mean, it's weird being single after three months. At one point I actually thought I loved him. Now I'm kind of relieved that I don't have to try to impress anyone."

"Because you actually cared about impressions," Edward laughed.

I slapped his arm lightly. "You know what I mean," I hissed, but despite myself I laughed too.

"If it's any consolation," Edward said, suddenly serious. "You don't have to try to impress me."

I smiled. "I know. Remember when we first met?"

"You were wearing a bikini, of course I remember."

"Shut up, and be serious." I rolled my eyes.

"I do remember. I thought you were the most hilarious person in the world."

"Because I am," I said, feigning offense. "You were a geek with your little hipster camera."

"Hey! It was not considered hipster then!" Edward defended.

"So you admit it is hipster!" I said while poking him in the chest.

"Bikini."

"Hipster."

"Bikini."

"Fine! The bikini was worse!" Once in a while Edward and I reminisce about our meeting, and we always have an argument over who looked more awkward. Me in Rose's bikini or Edward in his shorts, white socks and sandals, and his hipster camera hanging around his neck. The doorbell rang, signaling the pizza man's arrival and the end of our debate. Edward got up, and I allowed my head to rest on the back of the couch as the flashback of our meeting flooded my memory.

It was July 4, 2010 at La Push beach. . .