The room was large, the walls all lined with with book shelfs that held volumes upon volumes of books. Each book was binned with black, green or navy colored leather and their ages expanding much longer then the occupant of the room. Like the books each couch was leather and shiny, reflecting the little light that escaped in to the room from the heavy curtains, closed as tightly as possible.
There was little bed in a conner right beside a glossy black grand piano, a bench just as glossy as the piano was situated underneath the ivory keys.
There was a desk made out of Canadian Maple, (the first thing you see when you enter the room ) and behind that desk made of Canadian Maple, sat Edward Cullen.
His head supported by his folded hands,
his eyes were unfocused, he was looking back to his childhood. Was it possible that only four years ago he was thirteen? He did the math over and over again in his head... but the answer only came back to four years. So much has changed since then, physically, mentally, emotionally...
He shook his head, he was going to be late for school. Edward got up and sighed...school the one place he hates the most, were the girls wore there skirts like belts, and the boys use there penis more then their brain.
But, he felt today was going to be more interesting then others, a new student was arriving and if the rumors were true he might have a new rival for that scholarship.