Chapter 2

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
- Eleanor Roosevelt

There are fewer stares today—I guess I'm not as shiny and new as I was yesterday. Bubbly (who I'm now considering renaming Bubble Butt) snickers as she walks by my locker, elbowing Bitch Face.

"I guess Bella doesn't have to work today."

I huff in frustration, but there's no point in turning around. I'll only provoke them to new heights of bitchdom.

"They're assholes."

It's a quiet murmur from my left. Butterfly. I glance over and can't help but grin.

"I'm Angela. Don't let those bitches get you down. There are actually some nice people here in backwater Washington."

I chuckle as I gather my books. At least, she's aware she lives on the arse end of nowhere.

"I … um, I liked your shirt yesterday. I thought it was cool," Angela says, looking down as her cheeks redden.

So she had been in the caf when I made a complete fool of myself. Lovely. But her dark brown eyes hold nothing but sincerity as she watches me.

"Thanks. That's the kind of thing everyone in Phoenix was wearing before I left."

"Which means it'll probably be the 'in' thing here two years after we graduate," Angela fires back, and I can't help but laugh with her. Butterfly is cool. I should have known to zero-in on the geeky ones first—they're my tribe.

I follow Angela into homeroom, but as she goes by Ken doll's desk, he throws out his foot and trips her. Angela falls forward, landing hard on her hands as her books scatter.

"Well, Weeble, I guess you do still fall down," Ken doll sneers as most of the room laughs.

Fucking asshole! I scream in my head, but my lip just trembles as I narrow my eyes at him.

"What are you looking at?" Ken doll demands, and I break under his stare, bending down to help Angela gather her things.

"Are you … hurt?" I whisper as I give back her notebook. I know she's not okay, so there's no point in asking.

"Fine," she murmurs, head down as she slinks to her desk.

I follow her, sitting in Gorgeous' seat just in front of her instead of heading farther back to my own. She glances up, clearly surprised I haven't ditched her, her cheeks finally starting to cool as the rest of the room's attention moves elsewhere.

"I wasn't surprised you tried to talk to them yesterday. I'd be one of the popular kids if I could, too," Angela says, sniffling.

Who among us wouldn't?

"Aw, fuck 'em. They're just a bunch of snobs anyway," I tell her, and she chuckles as she wipes away the last of her tears.

"So, who else are the decent people around here?"

She smiles and gives me the lowdown. "Well, some of the guys are nice—I have art with Eric, and Ben is really sweet and funny." She nods toward two dark-haired boys: a smaller Asian-looking one and a larger one with glasses, both of their heads bent together over a comic book.

"And I usually talk to Alice. She's really into music and great to hang out with … as long as Mercury isn't in retrograde."

I open my mouth to ask her what the fuck that means, but the words die in my throat as the tiniest Goth I've ever seen wanders into the room. Aren't they supposed to be all tall and willowy? This one can't be more than five feet, and instead of long, drowning black hair, hers sticks up in cute little spikes all over her head. She's a Gothlet. Gotherbell, if you will.

She sits down next to Angela and gives a lackluster, "Hey," and I have to cover my mouth to conceal my grin. She's adorable, and I'm sure that's not the look she's going for. She's wearing a tight little black dress that barely covers her hoo-ha, with thigh high black tights and platform black leather boots with more buckles than Hannibal Lecter's straitjacket. Her spiked dog collar precisely matches the double-spiked cuffs on her wrists—because even if you're emo, you can still be fashionable, right? If Marilyn Manson had a cheerleading squad, she'd be the perky little captain … except Goths aren't perky, are they? Maybe she'd be the lead moper.

"Alice, this is Bella. She's new," Angela says, as if that wasn't obvious.

The Gothlet looks me up and down, her dark eyes settling on the buttons of my purple and white plaid shirt.

"Tumbleweed," she mutters, and I drop my face into my hand.

"I don't even know what I was saying yesterday. I get so nervous when I have to get up in front of people."

The Gothlet raises one side of her mouth in what could almost be considered a smile. "I hate that too."

What else could we possibly have in common? I scored on my first attempt, so I decide to keep shooting.

"So, what kind of music do you like?"

The Gothlet's eyes go all round and glowy. "Right now I'm hooked on Cold Showers and Drab Majesty, but my all-time favorite is The Cure."

"The Cure? Aren't they from like twenty years ago?" I blurt, my tongue engaging long before my brain.

The Gothlet's eyes go wide, then narrow to slits. Jesus Christ, I think she might actually cut me.

"Erm … what I mean is they're timeless. Classic." I'm sweating bullets here.

The Gothlet continues to squint at me, but she slowly nods her head.

Angela leans forward and whispers to her. "Mike was an ass this morning, but Bella helped me."

So Ken doll's name is Mike. He doesn't look like a Mike. Definitely Ken … or maybe Justin. A blue-eyed minion of Bieber.

The Gothlet's look turns fierce as she purses her lips. "He's such a bastard. Why can't he just leave us the fuck alone?"

"Is he always like that?" I ask, although I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

"Yeah, him and his evil minion Assward … um, I mean Edward," The Gothlet replies.

Great. I'm sitting with Assward in Biology. I can't wait. "Which one is he?"

"He's not here. And look, neither is Jasper. I wonder if they decided to skip today."

"Probably," The Gothlet grumbles. "At least, our day will be quieter."

And as The Gothlet predicted, it is a quiet day, which gives me time to learn everything I need to know about navigating Forks High. I learn where all the classrooms are, which teachers are strict and which are just plain assholes, and that Mrs. Goff the Spanish teacher is screwing Mr. Banner, who teaches biology. Whether his wife knows is anyone's guess, but apparently, Gaudy Goff is completely shameless.

I sit with them at lunch and learn who who's among the students too, but the ones I really need to know are the bullies and the petty bitches. I had the bitches nailed—Lauren, aka Resting Bitch Face, and Jessica, aka Bubble Butt, are the main ones, but Katie Marshall hangs out with them too. And the bullies are Mike Newton, aka Ken doll, Tyler, Austin, and, of course, Assward. Apparently Jasper hangs out with them, but he doesn't really tease anyone. Mike and Jasper are the jock basketball stars, and all of them often hang out with the senior guys, because Assward's brother, Emmett, is a senior. Now here's the bad part. Since both Jasper and Assward are absent today, I don't know which one is Gorgeous. I shouldn't even be thinking about this because Gorgeous was a mean asshole yesterday, but … he could be Jasper. Maybe he was just having a bad day. Maybe I looked at him funny, or he's protective of his friends.

A desperate cry erupts from some dark, moist place between my legs. Please, for the love of all that is holy, let Gorgeous be Jasper! I have no memory of Curly's body—he could be a centaur for all the notice I took, but Gorgeous … ah, Gorgeous has the body of a god! I spent three periods yesterday staring at the bulk of his shoulders, and the fine, muscular inward cut of his arms, peeking out from under his rolled up sleeves. Those arms have played basketball. Those arms have dribbled the ball up and down the court, glistening with sweat as the muscles ripple in and out and up and down and—

"Earth to Bella! Where are you?"

The answer, "just south of the waistband in Gorgeous' basketball shorts," will clearly not do. "Um … just thinking about our physics assignment."

"I don't think I have a dreamy smile on my face when I think about physics," The Gothlet observes, elbowing Angela.

Well, I almost told the truth. I was thinking about physiques, which is close enough to physics.

"Come on, Bella, which boy do you have your eye on?" Angela asks.

Jesus, am I that transparent, or is she psychic? "No one! I just got here, and I've barely talked to anyone!"

"That look had nothing to do with talking," Angela declares.

"Let her go, Angela; she'll give herself away," The Gothlet says, sniffing delicately. The Princess of Darkness is entirely too perceptive. Fuck. Now I have to limit my ogling too.

"Come on; let's go to study hall." Maybe I can read about something more pleasant—like the Spanish Inquisition.

The day passes quickly, and I don't ask either Angela or The Gothlet which of the mystery boys in my head is Assward. After they caught me daydreaming about Gorgeous' um … assets, and knowing that I can't manage to ask the question without suddenly and rather closely resembling a tomato, I'm sure they'll know he's the one I want to give my virginity to. Holy shit, where did all these hormones come from? It's like seeing Gorgeous flipped a switch I didn't even know was there.

That night, I dream of a certain redhead who happens to be the star basketball player for Forks High. I'm a preppy little cheerleader, and after he wins us the state title game, he falls into my arms and goes right up my tight little skirt and—

I startle awake, wet between my legs and panting like a poodle in heat. I need to know if this guy is a total asshole before my fantasies get any more out of control than they already are. Me? A cheerleader? Wow.

I'm a nervous wreck by the time I get to school, but I don't have to wait long. Gorgeous is in the hallway surrounded by a large group of junior boys. They're giving him high fives, and The Gothlet rolls her eyes as we walk by.

"Look, Assward is showing off again. He gets to stay home from school whenever he wants to."

Fuck me up the ass with a pineapple! Gorgeous is Assward! This revelation hits me hard, and I can feel my chest contracting, but I have to maintain the conversation or I'll give myself away.

"His parents know?"

"Yeah, they know. They even sign the notes for him."

"Why the hell would they do that?"

"Don't know." She shrugs. "Emmett never takes days off like that. Maybe it's because Edward's the baby."

"Seems more like a jackass than a baby to me," I offer, still reeling from the blow. Gorgeous can't really be that bad, can he? What did The Gothlet call him? Ken doll's evil minion? Fuck, that doesn't sound good.

And why the hell would his parents let him skip school? This guy sounds like bad news all the way around, the rational part of my mind says, but the hormone-driven she-devil part is still focused on how good he looked in that striped shirt and sunglasses, and how the fly on his button-fly jeans is folded to reveal two of the three buttons.

"Nice of you to join us, Edward," Ken doll says as Gorgeous passes him in homeroom, both of them snickering. The bitch brigade titters, and I just shake my head. How did I ever think I could even fake fitting in with them?

I settle down and try to put Gorgeous out of my head, and it works for most of the morning … that is, until biology class. I got so caught up in English and calculus that I actually managed to forget about this nightmare, but seeing him hits me like a sucker punch as I walk into the room. He's sitting at our table with his feet up on my chair, a cocky grin on his face.

Angela gives me a nudge from behind, and I walk over slowly to stand beside our table. Move your feet, asswipe, goes through my head, but what I manage is, "Umm."

Gorgeous looks up, and it takes everything I have not to gasp as my throat goes desert dry and my cheeks flare to level raging inferno.

"Problem, Tumbleweed?"

Jesus Christ, really? Wasn't it bad enough to endure that for one day? I don't know which is worse, Tumbleweed or Bowling Girl, but it seems my first day blatherings are going to haunt me forever.

"That's … that's my seat," I stutter, barely resisting the urge to face-palm.

"So it is. Why don't you sit down on it, and I'll give you a ride?" he answers, wiggling his foot suggestively as he points his toes straight up in the air. "Hmm … never mind, I just cleaned these sneakers."

Tyler laughs and elbows Jasper as I slide into my seat. Jasper grins but shakes his head.

Okay, fucker, your name just went from Gorgeous to Gorgeass, I resolve as my brow furrows, and my traitor heart begins to ache. I am not going to cry.

I let my hair hang over the side of my face and do my best to ignore him, but he's not done yet.

"I see you found your people," Gorgeass whispers, nodding his head toward Angela and The Gothlet.

Fuck you, asshole flies from one side of my brain to the other, but as usual, it just can't escape its mental prison. Instead, I turn my head farther away from him.

"Hey, Weeble, I heard you did more than wobble yesterday," Gorgeass hisses, and Angela fixes him with a glare.

"Fuck you, Assward," she hisses right back, and my estimation of Angela goes up an order of magnitude. She's much braver than I.

The room is suddenly silent as Angela's words seem to magnify and echo, and as I look around, everyone is either staring at Angela in shock or looking to Gorgeass for his retaliation.

"You'll pay for that one," Gorgeass sneers, more angry than I thought he'd be. He knows he's an asshole, right? If the shoe fits, shouldn't you wear it with pride? But for a fraction of a second, his eyes seem almost … sad? But it's gone in a flash as his eyes narrow, and I wonder if I even saw it at all.

"What are you looking at?" Gorgeass snaps at the room at large, and eyes scatter like cockroaches escaping a blinding light.

But mine don't. I watch Gorgeass out of the corner of my eye, and as soon as the attention is off him, when I expect that satisfied smirk to slither onto his face, he braces his forehead against his palm, elbow resting on his desk, and scrunches his eyes shut as if he's in pain. What the fuck?

He straightens up as Mr. Banner calls the class to order, and I snap my eyes to the front so he won't know I saw him. Beside me, Angela takes a shaky breath, and I turn my head and grin at her. Way to go, Butterfly.

But as soon as I face front again, I can feel the presence of Gorgeass beside me. I'm not quite near enough to feel his body heat, but sitting this close to him, I can feel my heart racing and the sweat gathering on my palms. But he really is an asshole, my rational mind says, as hormone-driven she-devil whimpers. I don't want him to be an asshole, I want him to swallow my tongue.

I'm disappointed.

I had really hoped he was better than all this high school crap, but I guess he's just one of the boys. The stupid, immature, holier-than-thou jock boys. Sighing, I mentally vow to write him off as that ache in my heart returns.

At lunch, I sit with Angela and The Gothlet, and Ben and Eric join us too. All anyone can talk about is Angela going off on Gorgeass.

"I can't believe you did that!" Ben exclaims as Angela blushes.

"Yeah, no one talks back to Edward!" Eric chimes in.

"She was great," I tell everyone. "She just stared him down until he blinked. He had no comeback."

"He will," The Gothlet says, her eyes fixed on the popular table. Bitch Face has her head on Gorgeass' shoulder as he's talking, but he looks pretty annoyed about it. Ken doll and Tyler are nodding their heads as Gorgeass speaks, and Jessica casts a glance over her shoulder toward our table. It wouldn't be any clearer they're talking about us if they were holding a damn neon sign. "No one messes with Assward and gets away with it."

A/N: Thank you all for reading and for the awesome response to Chapter 1! Edward is quite the ass, isn't he? I wonder why?

Posting will be on Monday mornings for the foreseeable future, with teasers in Shadow Fics (on Facebook) on Thursdays. In a perfect world unbound by time, I would answer every review as I did for Come Back Tomorrow, but this time around, it just won't be possible. I will always answer questions, and respond here and there as I can. It's so good to see so many old CBT friends in the reviews! Thank you all for taking another ride with me!