One year ago
The first thing I saw on the biology paper that I got back wasn't the name 'Mary Gray', but the 86% scrawled on it for a score.
Swan (I think that's the new girl's name) must've gotten a higher grade due to her collaborations with Edward Cullen, but everything Swan does spreads like wildfire in Forks High. Forks High isn't exactly the pinnacle of secondary education, but it's better than nothing. It rains so much here that it's no better than the winters, but life dictates that even though there are dull and depressing places like this, it's no excuse for not thriving in it.
Richard Hewitt extends his hand and I rummaged into my bag for a bottle of sanitizer, handing it over to him as he took it rather gratefully. "You know that I always need this, Mary. The germs, especially at the computers - do you know that eating in a toilet is much more sanitary than eating at your desk?"
"I don't plan on eating in a cubicle anytime soon," I smiled, clipping the paper into my file. "If I quit school, would you follow?"
My bespectacled, pimple-faced lab partner shrugged. "Not sure if I'm the type to even skip school for a day unless I'm sick, but if you're transferring, I'll send you mail."
"Mail. Seriously."
"You can delete e-mails, but at least letters don't need passwords to read them," Richard hummed.
The Short Life of Mary Gray
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An OC Twilight Fanfiction
in the time of New Moon
The Prologue
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My name is Mary Susan Gray, and I am running for my life.
I didn't know. I didn't know anything. I thought, like everyone else, that I was just going to Italy for a harmless holiday, but the minute I noticed Swan and Edward Cullen, and the mention of 'feasts' on St. Marcus's Day, I pretended to go to the bathroom 10 minutes ago.
I'm currently running through the streets of Volterra.
Swan and Edward Cullen obviously didn't recognize me - who would? They're vampires, the lot of them - the tour guide, Heidi's one. Why else would Swan and Edward Cullen be there? Why else would the other Cullens be so strange?
Vampires.
In broad daylight.
And I left all the other tourists behind.
I'm too worried about myself, so I run. I don't know heads or tails about Italy - the only world I've ever known was in Forks, Washington, and even there I'm lost. I run through the processions and the red-cloaked masses, celebrating a festival that I didn't even know existed.
I dare not turn back.
I dare not stop.
They might miss me - they have a tourist roster, after all. They might have noticed me missing. They can search all of Volterra and find me eventually, and I raise my hand as soon as I see a taxi. It stops, so I open the door and quickly get in.
"Aeroporto Internazionale di Pisa," I blurt out.
.
63 kilometres to Pisa from Volterra, according to the cabbie. One hour and two minutes.
He hasn't even spoken to me ever since we've left Volterra - actually, I don't know if we've even left Volterra yet. I have my essentials with me - notably some money, my passport, my plane tickets (which I hope I can amend when I get to the airport), a few clothes in case the vacation takes a wrong turn, some pre-packed food and a bottle of water...
...as well as this not-so-handy guidebook on 'How to Speak Italian'.
"...Abbiamo lasciato Volterra?" I hazard, and he chuckles. The cab driver is a young, blond-haired guy, probably two or three years older than me.
"We've left Volterra," he says, in perfect English. "I hope you have enough money - I'm charging you by the meter. This is the longest trip I've ever taken, to be honest."
I'm pretty sure he can see me worrying over other things from his mirror. Vampires. Vampires in Italy. The Cullens are vampires. If not vampires, cannibals. There's also the possible fact that I've been overreacting over the entire thing and a tiny part of me tells me to ask the driver to turn back, but Heidi...
That's the thing. No one says no to Heidi.
"So where're you from?" the cab driver asks nonchalantly. "The US? England?"
"The US," I answer, looking behind me to see if anyone's following. "I came to Volterra for a vacation."
"Ah, for a vacation," he says, sounding a bit miffed. "No one ever goes to the commercial sites anymore. Some tourists who don't go with the tourist packages find themselves hopping on a taxi and asking to go to the rarest of places with the roads all winded up, and fares aren't as great as we could charge them..."
"It was an all-expenses paid trip," I explain, but my voice seems so far away. "...I won a vacation, along with a few others..."
He pauses for a while. "Oh, I see. Lucky you. But why aren't you with the rest?"
I don't want to answer that. He 'hm?'s as if I haven't heard his question, so I try to make up an excuse.
"Family emergency."
"Oh, I'm sorry," he says, as if he's sympathizing with me. "I shouldn't even be asking so many intrusive questions."
"No, it's okay-"
"No, really."
My shoulders lower a bit at the sudden awkwardness, which thankfully replaced my fears for that place entirely. I also realize that he's stepping on the gas faster than I thought- 120 kilometres per hour. At most, he sounds annoyed, judging by the way he clicks his tongue.
There's nothing much to say about a journey to the airport, really.
"They'll find it odd, you know," the cab driver speaks again, "if you board a plane back to the US without any luggage."
I groan. He's right.
"I'm about to get broke anyways," I sigh. "After I pay your fare and get my airplane tickets amended, I'll probably go back penniless."
"But what you're doing is better than that dream vacation thing, huh?" he whistles. "You're a funny lady."
Anything's better than Volterra. Anything's better than that.
A/N: Yes, this is a Mary Sue fic. It's even in her name.
Yes, the summary's badly written. It's on purpose.
Yes, I'm laughing at myself for doing this.