Chapter 1 - Meeting

Phoebe POV

"Eugh", I sighed, unwilling to leave the comforting, warm recluse of my bed covers – even just to turn off the alarm that was beeping loudly, so that I could go back to sleep.

It was my mum's idea initially; I was always late for school back in Texas, and usually had to drive like a manic to get there, so moving my alarm clock to the other side of the room seemed like a good idea, a great way to get myself out of bed... until now.

Reluctantly, I ventured a foot onto the plush blue carpet of my new bedroom and used the momentum to drag the rest of myself from the duvet's folds. Yawning, I stretched my arms above my head, arching my back as I did so. I watched myself apprehensively in the mirror on the back of the door of my oak wardrobe as I did so; the lime green t-shirt I'd worn to bed the night before rose slightly with the movement, revealing quite a few inches of bare navel, complete with a red-gemmed bellybutton piercing.

The annoying beeping continued, and I decided to sort it out before I woke the whole house. Pyjama bottoms forgotten – probably kicked off at some point in the night – I padded across the room bare-legged, showing off the 'Me Like Cookies' Cookie-monster underwear I had on. The 'off' button depressed on the clock, the alarm was silenced, and in my opinion, looking quite satisfied with its job done.

I pulled the band out of my hair, dragging a brush through the mid-brown, highlighted waves before crossing my bedroom and wandering into the bathroom for a shower. I pulled one of the beige towels from the pile on the shelf, and turned the water on. After pulling my top over my head, I shoved down my underwear and strolled into the shower and under the flow of water. Whoever had design the en-suite to my bedroom must have done it with a couple in mind. A huge Jacuzzi bathtub dominated the room, making the see-through glass, walk-in shower pale in significance. The water beat down on my back, relaxing all the muscles that were still tense from yesterday's grand move-in; lifting furniture from a rented lorry into your new home because your father doesn't want to fork out for a rental company may seem like a good idea but, as I learned yesterday, it's bad for your health. You'd think though, judging by the size of the new house and his new six-figure salary job, he'd be able to afford the removal men – apparently he doesn't think like that.

Once I was clean and citrus shower gel smelling, I wrapped myself in the towel and wandered back into my bedroom, planning my outfit for today in my head. Not that I was going to be wearing anything particularly special; just a pair of blue skinny jeans, a strappy top, my navy-blue Hollister hoodie and thoroughly worn-in black leather jacket, teamed with a new pair of red converse sneakers.

Yes, it is summer here in my new home town of the Reservation of La Push near Forks, Washington, but unfortunately the hoodie and jacket are very necessary… as is an umbrella. Because I am now living in the rainiest and cloudiest place in the entirety of the United States – some luck, eh? My Dallas tan couldn't hold out for long without a top-up, but because my dad is Quileute it wouldn't be long before I was just slightly paler than the rest of the reservation girls here.

The weather, for me, was the worst part; the whole new schools weren't a problem because I was just one of those people who made friends easily. I'd be going to school for two days a week here on the reservation and spending the other three at Forks High School: Home of the Spartans - or so the leaflet said. The reason for going to both the schools is that my dad, having been through his education here on the reservation, didn't want me just educated in the Quileute ways. Besides, most of the kids here on the rez had part-time jobs to go to, or were learning the family trade, so only went to school a few days a week anyway. So I was being shipped off to Forks to do Maths, Spanish and Biology in order to get a high enough GPA to go to college in a couple of years.

Like I said, the split school didn't bother me a lot. There were so few people may age in the area, that the extra friends would probably come in handy.

After grabbing some of the toast my dad had left for me from the toaster, I grabbed my school bag and hurried out of the kitchen and into the hall, dad's calls of good luck echoing in the cavernous space from the stool he sat on at the breakfast bar, finishing his own toast.

I grabbed my car keys from the bowl in the foyer and legged it down the front steps, through the pouring rain and into the safety of my black-leather upholstered car. She was my prized possession; a black Nissan 370z GT with a 3.7 litre engine. With only two seats though, it was lucky that my dad had his job at the car dealership and was able to provide me and my younger brother with a shared Qashqui thanks to his promotion; hence the move. He'd just transferred to working in Port Angles and chose the house due to its relative closeness.

Pulling into the rez school parking lot, I received quite a few envious looks from, I'll admit, mostly guys. But that's always been cool with me; what's the point in having these possessions if you don't share them with the world. Not that I'm willing enough to let anyone else drive my baby, but… maybe they could sit in the driver's seat, or I'd take them for a spin if they seemed nice.

Climbing out and tugging my bag from the passenger seat along with me, started towards the main reception of the school, locking the doors to my car with the key fob as I did so.

Only as I walked toward the reception did I begin to question my choice in travel this morning. Back at home my car had been slightly better than everyone else's at my school, so it didn't stand out a lot in the parking lot. Plus everyone there knew that I had this car only because my dad worked for the dealership. Here, however, it seemed that most people arrived on the school bus, and those with cars appeared to be second-hand and your average 'first-time drivers' car; not that there was anything wrong with this… it just drew a lot of attention to me that might not necessarily be friendly. But I'd have to see how it went throughout the day before I re-thought my car choice for tomorrow at Forks.

I skirted around a 1968 Volkswagen Rabbit, which was practically a vintage, and walked into the reception. The woman behind the desk looked up immediately, her kind brown eyes drinking me in.

"Luna Matthews?" she asked. I shook my head.

"No, I'm..." but she'd already cut across me.

"Phoebe Celie?" She tried again.

"Yes… although my middle name is Luna though…" I added helpfully.

"Phoebe Luna Celie", she repeated thoughtfully, "it's very pretty."

"Thanks". I smiled at her and took the paperwork she offered me, listening intently to the instruction she was giving me.

"So I just go straight through that door and into the hall, then turn right into the double doors to the hall and take a seat on the bleachers?" I questioned, repeating back her own instructions for conformation.

"Yep, you got it," she winked at me, "you might want to make yourself comfortable too. The 'head's' speeches get longer every year at the 'Welcome & Welcome Back' assembly."

I thanked her again and followed her instructions through the door and into a large foyer, where damp teens came racing in through the main double doors.

As I watched a tall, muscular guy with slightly unkempt dark hair came running in from outside, skidded on the linoleum flooring in his skate shoes, and landed hard on his hip on the wet surface. An older-looking teacher rushed forwards, but he'd brushed off her concerned advance before she'd even moved four steps.

"I'm alright, Mrs Shunsbey", he called from amongst the legs of the students desperately trying to get inside out of the downpour.

"Oh, Quil", the lady chided him; "I wish you'd be more careful!" He picked himself up of the ground, winked at her causing her tinkling laughter to draw the occasional look for a student, and made his way through the throng and into the hall.

Following suit, I found myself pushed and shoved into the hall, and eventually, in on a bench about half way up the bleachers. Ignoring the stares from other students, I looked down at the paperwork the receptionist had given me. It consisted of a basic map of the school, - that by the looks of things was so small there wasn't even a chance of getting lost – my new timetable and a welcome letter.

One line of writing amongst the letter drew my attention: "Kindly meet your designated 'buddy' for the day, outside the hall once the 'Welcome & Welcome Back' meeting has finished, for the tour of the school and Q&A time. Your buddy should be in most, if not all of your lessons, and so will be able to walk with you to second period."

I almost groaned aloud; some poor sod had been talked into 'buddying-up' with me, and the kind of person it usually is is a preppy, nasal, annoying, pompous head-girl type - the kind of person that I don't get along with at all.

The principle seemed to drone on and on for hours, about this and that… and oh, don't forget that! Instead of paying attention, I studied my new fellow students. Of course, all them were dark-skinned, and all of Quileute decent, but I was glad to see that I wasn't the only 'slightly paler' teen in the hall; others must have mixed parentage as well.

The hall erupted with noise around me, and I jumped visibly in my seat. The speech had finished, and everyone was rushing off to enjoy their first period back at school, seeing their friends for the rest of the free time till second started. This time I actually groaned. I didn't like to think the kind of mood that my 'meet-and-greet' might be in, because they couldn't go and spend their free time with their friends like everyone else.

Resolute that I would show up and explain that the tour wasn't really necessarily, I made my way back through the double doors and into the foyer. I'd been stood there, looking towards the crowd moving from the hall, when a hand tapped me on the shoulder and a voice spoke:

"Phoebe Kelly?" The voice was deep and made my stomach churn with unexpected nervous excitement.

"Actually, it's pronounced 'Sell-ee'… Celie," I spoke, bracing myself for a frown as I turned.

I was met by the most gorgeous, thickly-lashed, liquid brown eyes I've ever seen. He was a head or so taller than me, big built, with huge muscles easily seen through the confines of his tight, white t-shirt. He had dark, cropped hair and wore and easy, contagious grin. He spoke again, the voice and the whole look of him causing liquid to pour into my panties.

"Sorry, Phoebe… or can I call you Pheebs?" He requested with a wink. Surely he couldn't already know my heart was fluttering, without the added strain caused by his flirting?
"Course you can." I laughed, nervous. He laughed back and held out his hand.

"Pheebs it is then." He smiled again, "I'm Paul. Paul Lahote."