I was driving in the back of a taxi, heading towards the airport. The window on my right was rolled down, the cold air of the early morning freezing me even with the dark green pullover and black long padded jacket I was wearing but I didn't care. The sky was perfectly cloudless, the sun shining outside but not really warming anything on its path. It was going to snow soon, a couple weeks maybe.
I descended from the taxi once I realized it had stop and after having paid the driver, I entered inside the airport. I did the check-in and then headed towards the gate 13. I finally got on the plane and I sat down on my reserved place near the window, looking forlornly outside.
I would have missed Denver's weather. It was sunny 300 days a year and there was snow practically the rest of the time. I wasn't the least bit used to the rain but I would have to get used to it, and quickly.
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town that Renée - my aunt - had escaped when her daughter Bella was only a few months old. It was in this town that I used to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen together with Bella. She practically begged me every time to go with her, since she hated Forks with a passion. I didn't share the same feelings, at least not entirely. Yes, the weather wasn't very pleasant, the town was too small and nothing ever happened to make it interesting, but I could tolerate it just to spend time with her and Charlie. Fourteen though was the year when Bella put her foot down and refused to ever return; these past three summers we spent vacationed in California for two weeks instead.
It was there I was headed right now. Not something I was doing very willingly but what other choice did I have?
It's a two hours and a half flight from Denver to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying didn't bother me; the hour in the car with Uncle Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.
It was sure to be awkward with him. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision.
Of course Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car.
I knew he was more than a little surprised. I imagined he would have thought I would choose Renée since, truth to be told, even if she wasn't my Aunt by blood, I was closer to her than Charlie. Maybe because Renée acted more like a teenager than an adult. I loved Renée but the idea of living with her permanently kind of scared me.
I could already imagine her, hovering over me, asking me If I was okay every five minutes, and that was something I didn't need right now. I just wanted to be left alone, free to be sad, instead of pretending to be better just not to worry her. With Uncle Charlie it was different. I knew that If I wanted to be left alone, If I didn't feel like talking, Charlie would have understood and left me alone.
Of course I would have preferred to stay in Denver, if only for the fact that I lived there all my life but I knew it wasn't possible. I had no other relatives there and I was still a minor, I couldn't live there alone.
When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as a omen though, just something unavoidable. I had already said my goodbyes to the sun.
Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. For the people of Forks, Charlie was Chief Police Swan. I cringed a little at the idea of being seeing around town in a police car, blue and red lights on top included, and decided to buy my own car as fast as possible.
Charlie gave me an awkward arm-hug when I finally was off the plane. "It's good to see you Veroni." He said with a smile and then hesitantly asked "How are you?"
I smiled and shrug. I certainly couldn't say I was okay, because I wasn't. Of course I could have lied, I was pretty good at it if I wanted to but I didn't like to do it and anyway, I didn't have the strength to pretend that I was fine.
Together we headed toward the baggage claim. Charlie widened his eyes when he saw how many bags I had with me but he didn't comment, fortunately. I had to admit that I panicked a little, trying to decide what to bring with me and what not. In the end I brought with me practically my entire wardrobe. Since not all the bags fitted inside the trunk, some of it ended up on the back seat.
"Your hair's longer." Charlie started, in a not very effective way to break the silence.
"I cut it since the last time I saw you." I answered without really knowing what to say.
"Guess it grew out again." I nodded and he didn't add anything more.
A few minutes later Charlie broke the silence again. "I found a car for you. I'm sure it's not the kind you're used to but..." Charlie started hesitantly.
"I'm sure it's perfect. Thanks uncle Charlie." I interrupted. Whatever car it was, it didn't matter. The only thing I cared about was that it would drive me where I needed it to.
"Well, it's a truck actually. A Chevy." Charlie continued.
"Where did you find it?"
"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.
I thought about it for a minute but I couldn't seem to remember him. "Uhm...no." I said at last.
"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.
"Oh yes. I remember now." I had the vague image of a man with black hair and eyes and really tanned skin, nothing more than that. But it was something at least.
"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued then "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."
"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.
"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years old, really."
"And when did he buy it?" I teased him, having realized that he was stalling.
"He bought it in 1984, I think."
"Did he buy it new?"
"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.
I smiled amused at his expression. "Well, I just hope it won't break since I don't know anything about cars. If something went wrong, I won't be able to fix it and you will be forced to drug the thing up to La Push."
"Really, Veroni, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."
"How much Billy is selling it?"
"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.
I was really touched by that but I couldn't accept. Money wasn't something I needed to worry about. "You didn't need to do that, Uncle Charlie. I was going to buy myself a car."
"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud.
"That's really nice. Thanks. I really appreciate it." And I did. Really. It was just that I didn't think I had any hope at being happy in Forks. Or anywhere else for that matter.
"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.
We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We stared out the windows in silence. I tried to concentrate on the view out the window and not immerse myself in thoughts which was a really bad thing. I couldn't burst into tears in front of Charlie. I was sure he would panicked, not having idea what to do to console me.
The scenery was beautiful. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. My memory hadn't done it justice.
Denver was very different. There were no vast landscapes in the surrounding area, but it was beautiful none than less, with its high mountains.
We made it to Charlie eventually. The house was exactly as I remembered it. It was a small two-story house, with the kitchen and living room that somewhat blended together on the ground floor and the upper floor with only two bedrooms and a single bathroom at the top of the stairs. Another thing I needed to get used to, sharing a bathroom with someone else. At home, I had a private bathroom.
I descended the cruiser and noticed it for the first time. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new — well, new to me — truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged — the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.
"Wow, Charlie, I love it! Thanks!" Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser.
"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again. I smiled.
It took three trips to get all my stuff upstairs. Yes, I got more than a little overboard but you can never know what you may need, right? I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it was the one Bella and I used to share every summer. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window, the pine wood desk, the full size bed. These were all a part of my childhood. Even the rocking chair was still in the corner.
Charlie left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible if I had decided to move with Renée. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to think about the coming morning.
Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven — now fifty-eight — students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together.
I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak. Needless to say I was terrified.
In Denver I had not needed to try to fit in. I had been automatically welcome in the popular crowd because of my parents - my father had been a magistrate and my mom a lawyer -. I wasn't a cheerleader or anything like that - I wasn't really the sporty type -. I was slender yes, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete. But I was pretty popular none then less.
The weird thing was that I wasn't at all like those other rich kids in my group. But I tried to quell my natural instincts and instead of hiding inside my room all day to read a good book like I really wanted to do, I forced myself to go to parties and dances like every other girl my age.
I was a straight A's student, not exactly an airhead like most of the girls in the same group as me, and even if being smart wasn't something 'cool', my so called friends accepted that because, like I said, my parents were pretty wealthy.
I don't think anyone's life could ever be called perfect but mine had been pretty good. I had nothing to complain about. Of course sometimes I had wished my parents had been a little more present in my life but I could understand that they used to be very busy people, and that work had been important for them. They really believed in what they did. And they loved me anyway, I knew that. I hadn't been neglected or anything like that.
My friends were okay even if I wasn't really close to any of them, not enough to have a best friend for example. And I never had a boyfriend, not because there weren't boys interested in me but because I wasn't interested in them. I couldn't help but see all of them as immature. And anyway, I wanted something deeper, meaningful. I know that seems kind of weird for a girl of only seventeen. Usually girls my age didn't search for something more lasting than a few months, a year at the most. They wanted to experiment before really think about something more serious with someone. But like I said, I wasn't like anyone else at all.
The truth was that I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I had been closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.
I shook my head, trying to remove those thoughts from my head and finished putting my clothes partly in the wardrobe and partly in the old dresser. I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. My light green eyes looked at me in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. I was ivory-skinned - a trait I shared with my cousin Bella -. My skin was clear, almost translucent looking. Really too pale for a place like Denver. I never tanned, just burn very easily. Here in Forks I looked even paler, almost unhealthy so. My skin was pretty - no big imperfections visible and all - but in this light, I had no color.
My long hair didn't help in the least in this endeavor. They were dark brown in reality but they were so dark, they seemed black. They were usually pretty easy to tame, usually cascading down my back in gentle waves, but I feared in this weather they would be a nightmare to style in a decent way. And the flat iron was completely useless with this humidity.
I shook my head again, wondering why I was worrying about those things. It wasn't like me. I was probably more nervous than I thought.
I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. My nightmares didn't want to leave me alone and the constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof didn't help matters either.
I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.
The thick fog outside my window was the only thing I could see the next morning. And of course it was raining.
Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him and that was that. He left soon after for work and I was left alone in his kitchen. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and take a look around me. Everything from the dark paneled walls to the right yellow cabinets and white linoleum floor was exactly the same as it has ever been.
Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and Renée in Las Vegas, then one of the two of them with Bella in the hospital after she was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of her school pictures up to last year's. There were photos of Charlie and my father when they were teenagers. A photo of my parents at their wedding. There were even photos of me and Bella together during the summers I spent there. Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here.
It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over Renée. It was very sad and it made me uncomfortable.
I went up the stairs and placed myself in front of the wardrobe, trying to decide what to ear for today. It was barely 6.30 in the morning, I had plenty of time to get ready.
I wanted to look nice but nothing that would attract too much attention to myself. I would be in the spotlight enough already.
I opted at the end for a pair of black skinny jeans that accentuated my curves nicely and a blue cable-knit light sweater that brought out the color of my eyes. A pair of black flat ankle boots completed the ensemble.
My make-up was simple, just a touch of mascara(waterproof) and a touch of eyeliner and lip-gloss.
It was early still when I finally finished getting ready but I didn't want to wait alone in the house for the time to pass. Too much time to think. I donned my padded jacket and headed out into the rain.
It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up.
I reached my truck in a couple of strides, the sloshing of my boots on the grey pavement the only sound in the deserted street. I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.
Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. The leather seats were comfy if not a little discolored. The engine started quickly - to my extreme relief - no trip to La Push necessary . The engine roared loudly, making me jump slightly. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.
Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first
I parked in front of the first building visible as soon as I entered that read front office on a small sign over the door. No one else was parked there, so it was probably off limits. I needed directions though, I would have move away as soon as I was done.
I stepped unwillingly out of the truck and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I hesitated a second before opening the door, nervous again.
Inside, the office was bright and warm if not a little small. There was a little waiting area with grey folding chairs while notices and awards were cluttering the walls. A big wall clock was ticking the time loudly, the only sound apart from the sound of shuffling documents and pens scratching on papers. Various potted plants were placed randomly on the orange-flecked commercial carpet. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt that clashed horribly with her hair.
The woman looked up at me with a curious look. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Veronica Carmichael," I informed her of my full name, already knowing that Charlie had probably presented me like that to everyone interested enough to listen. Not that I believed Charlie told that I was moving there to numerous people, probably just his colleagues. But Forks was a little town, words moved around fast.
I saw immediately the recognition in her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. The rich daughter of Chief Swan's brother, died less than two months ago in a tragic car accident. I gritted my teeth but that was the only gesture of irritation I conceded myself.
"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school."
She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.
When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.
I took a deep breath, trying to relax even If I knew it was a useless attempt. I decided to study the map a little, to avoid being stuck with it all day under my nose, and my schedule. I put everything carefully inside my bag and slung the strap over my shoulder. I knew I was being stupid. Being this nervous over this was stupid. Nobody was going to bite me. I rolled my eyes and finally descended the truck and reached the sidewalk brimming with teenagers.
Once over the cafeteria, building 3 was easy to spot. I stopped in front of the door for a millisecond and then entered the classroom, head held high.
The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't standout here.
I gave the slip to sign to the balding man in front of his desk. The nametag in his desk identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when I introduced myself and I blushed, of course. Luckily for me, he indicated a desk for me to sit, at the back of the class, where my new classmates - each one with varying degrees of curiosity on their faces - would have found it difficult to stare at me, even if somewhat they manage. I kept my eyes fixedly on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if I perchance packed my old essays too in between the chaos that was my bags - I had still two big bags full of books I hadn't still emptied out - but then decided that it was kind of cheating and I resigned myself to avoid even looking for them.
When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as petroleum turned to look at me.
"You're Veronica Carmichael, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type. He introduced himself as Eric Yorkie.
"It's Veroni." I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. Eric looked at me confused. "I prefer to called Veroni."
"Where's your next class?" he asked.
I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."
"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-helpful.
I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."
Outside the rain had picked up. I curled up a little in my jacket but it was my face who took the brunt of it. Thank God for waterproof mascara or I would look like a panda by now.
Eric walked me right to the door, all the while trying to keep me interested in conversation, something in which he wasn't having much luck. I didn't mean to be rude, my mind tended to wander on her own volition, without my express permission. I answered his questions about the difference between Denver and Forks nonetheless.
The rest of the morning passed in much the same way. At the end of each class there was always someone eager to escort me around. My Trigonometry teacher - Mr. Varner - was fortunately the only one who forced me to stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I blushed and stammered a little but in general I was able to avoid making a fool out of myself.
One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet six inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. It seemed she didn't need much encouragement, she was perfectly capable of keep a conversation going all by herself.
We sat at the end of a table full of all her friends. They all introduced themselves to me but I couldn't seem to remember any of their names. Eric - the guy from English - waved at me from across the room.
It was in that moment, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.
They were sitting together in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away as possible from the other tables. They were five. None of them was talking, eating or doing anything normal people do in a cafeteria. They were all looking in different directions - as opposed to anyone else looking at me - so I was free to look at them as much as I liked.
They were all different. Of the three boys, one was big - like a football player or a weight lifter - with dark, curly hair. The other had honey blonde hair; he was taller and leaner than the first but still muscular. The last one had strange, messy bronze hair and was lanky in comparison to the other two. He seemed younger than the others too, who didn't look at all like high school students. They seemed older, like they could be in college or even teachers at this school.
The two remaining girls were opposites each other. One was tall, with a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. She had golden hair that waved in the middle of her back. The other was short and pixielike, extremely thin and with short, black hair that were pointing in every direction.
And yet, every one of them had some specific characteristics in common. They were extremely pale. Paler than anyone else in this sunless town. Paler than me even. They had all dark eyes, in contrast to their different hair colors. And they all had purple circles under their eyes.
If those were not enough reasons to make me curious about them, there was also the fact that their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. I had never, in all my life, seen anyone so perfectly beautiful. All their features were straight, perfect, angular. Their faces had no visible defect, of any kind. Nobody was that perfect, how was it possible?
I watched amazed the pixie girl standing up and dancing - there was no other word for it - across the room. She damped her untouched tray of food on the trash, before disappearing out of the room, faster that I thought was possible.
"Who are they?" I finally asked the girl from Spanish, whose name I had forgotten, being unable to contain my curiosity any longer.
The girl looked up in the direction I was staring, trying to understand who I was referring to, even if it was safe to say she already knew, when the youngest, the boyish one, looked a fraction of a second in her direction and then his dark stare shifted towards me.
He looked away almost immediately, even faster than I did when, having being caught staring, I had blushed furiously and dropped my gaze at once.
His face in that brief moment in which I saw it, was completely disinterested. It was as If he heard his name being called and had involuntarily lifted his head to answer.
My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.
"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.
I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers, none of those reaching his mouth. The aforementioned mouth was instead moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I was sure he was speaking quietly to them.
Even their names where different like they were. Unpopular, old fashioned. But maybe this was something in vogue here. Then I finally remembered the name of the girl I was talking to - Jessica - and I had to reconsider.
"They are uncommonly good looking." I commented then, hoping to prompt Jessica to give me some other information about them.
"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though — Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Denver, it would cause some gossip.
"But they're not really related, are they? Which one are the Cullens and which one are the Hales?"
"Oh no. They're not related. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins — the blondes — and they're foster children."
"They look a little old for foster children."
"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."
"That's really nice for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they're so young and everything."
"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness. I refrained from rolling my eyes or insult Jessica's narrow mindness because it wasn't something smart to do, make enemies on my first day.
During this entire conversation my eyes had, almost constantly, flicked to them, practically of their own volition. I couldn't seem to look away.
"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here.
"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."
I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Even If I had the impression that they were outsiders more by their own choice that because they hadn't been accepted here. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard. I mean, who in their right minds could possibly stay interested in me for more than a few days when there were people like that in the near vicinity?
As I examined them, the youngest one of the Cullens, the bronze-haired one, looked up and met my gaze again, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. I looked immediately away, noticing that his face held some kind of expectation that hadn't apparently been met.
"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked away again.
"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She exclaimed with a sour look on her face. I wondered when he'd turned her down.
I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.
A few minutes later, the four of them stood up together and left the room. They were all uncommonly graceful, even the big one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn't look at me again. Not that I expected him to.
Soon after even the group I was sitting with stood up and scattered away towards their lessons. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, offered to walk with me towards Biology II since we shared the same class. The walk was spent in silence. She was pretty shy too.
Once inside the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table like the ones I was used to. unfortunately she already a partner. In fact, all the tables were occupied expect for the one next to Edward Cullen at the center aisle. I recognized his unusual hair.
As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him from the corner of my eye. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, this time with an hostile, furious expression on his beautiful face. I looked away quickly, shocked. I'd noticed that his eyes were black — coal black.
I reached the desk where the teacher - Mr Banner - sat and gave him the slip to sign. He handed me a book in return and indicated for me to sit - predictably - in the only open seat in the middle of the room. I reached the desk without looking at him, bewildered by his hostile reaction to him. What the hell did I do for him to behaving this way towards me?
I sat down - again without looking in his direction - set my book on the table and immediately noticed his posture becoming even more rigid. He was leaning away from me as much as it was possible while sharing the same desk. He was sitting at the extreme edge of his chair, I was almost scared he was going to topple over at any moment. His face was facing away from me, like he was smelling something bad, disgusting. I looked at him now, angry. What the hell was his problem? I sniffed my hair inconspicuously but I knew they didn't smell bad, I had washed it just this morning. In fact they smelled like coconut, my favorite shampoo. I turned my head the other way, annoyed by his strange behavior, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.
Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking the other way.
I couldn't help but look at him from time to time, almost tempted to glare at him in return but scared he would have attacked me or something, so terrible was the expression in his dark eyes.
I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his brothers.
The class seemed to drag on forever. Was only because the day of school was finally ending or because I couldn't wait to run away from the strange boy on my left? I looked at him again. He was so still, it seemed like he wasn't even breathing. Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.
What was wrong with him? It couldn't possibly have anything to do with me. He didn't even know me.
I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.
I shook my head angry and scared all at once and I hastened to collect all my things from the desk so I could leave this damn classroom and the boy who occupied it. But Edward Cullen was faster. In a second he had rose fluidly from his chair - he was much taller that I thought he would be - his back to me, and he was out the door in a flash, before anyone else had even risen from their seats.
I stood frozen, looking at the door he had just crossed, a stunned, incredulous expression on my face. What a jackass. I shook my head for the million time that day and tried to reign in my anger. I didn't need to worry about what the hell was Cullen's problem, I had enough problems on my own, thank you very much.
"Aren't you Veronica Carmichael?" a male voice asked.
I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad.
"Veroni" I corrected him, with a smile.
"I'm Mike."
"Hi, Mike."
"Do you need any help finding your next class?"
"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."
"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.
We walked to the gym together, Mike supplying most of the conversation but it was okay. I wasn't really in the mood to chat. He said he'd lived in California until he was ten so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today.
But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."
I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Edward Cullen's usual behavior.
I answered without thinking. "I wish I did. He would definitely deserve it." I answered still annoyed.
"He looked like he was in pain or something."
"I have no idea what his problem is." I responded. "I never even spoke to him."
"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."
I smiled a little uncomfortably at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.
The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of RE. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Another thing I was sure I would hate before long in Forks.
I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering the times I would return home with purple spots on my arms - I bruised easily - I cringed.
The final bell rang at last. I left the gym quickly and headed towards the office to return my paperwork. It had stopped raining for the time being but the wind was strong and cold. I wrapped my arms around myself.
Once inside the warm office, I stopped in my tracks and almost walked back out again.
Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.
He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time — any other time.
I couldn't believe this was about me. It couldn't be. Nobody had ever taken such an intense dislike towards me. I hadn't talk to the guy once, for god's sake. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. That was the only plausible explanation.
Suddenly the door open again, the wind gusting through the room, rustling the papers on the desk and swirling my hair around my face. The girl who had came in, merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket and left the room again.
But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me — his face was absurdly handsome — with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.
"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me. "I'll just... endure it." I heard his voice saying before he disappeared out the door.
I walked slowly to the desk and handed her the signed slip. I was half-tempted to turn around and face him, just to understand what the hell was his problem but I couldn't. Something inside me warned me that it could be dangerous, that he could be dangerous.
"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.
"Okay" I lied, my voice emotionless. She didn't look convinced.
When I got inside the truck - the last one left in the parking lot - an involuntary sigh of relief escaped my lips. I sat inside for awhile, trying to calm my racing heart. I was soon cold though so I turned up the heater. I turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie's house, a pair of dark, terrifying eyes glued to my thoughts all the way there.