Chapter 1: First Day

To get to St. Bartholomew's School for Boys I had to walk five minutes to the end of my street in the shady part of town. At the end of the street was a simple white sign with the image of a bus in black, and there I waited for a burnt orange and blue bus to publicly transport me twenty minutes over the border to the town of Wharton. I got off at the stop that left me right at the end of the school's fields, and then it was another fifteen minute walk before I reached the building.

St. Bartholomew's main entrance was deceiving. The first building you saw once on campus was a gothic church made of a deep chocolate colored brick, with heavy black double front doors, and black trim around the thin, highly-arched stained glass windows. It was at once haunting and welcoming, and it looked like it came straight out of a Harry Potter movie.

The church itself appeared to be a normal sized. It was the building behind it, the actual school, that was monstrous. It was made of light gray brick instead of rich brown, and had the shape of a simple rectangular box. Large square windows lined the building on all sides, delineating the four different floors of classrooms.

I walked alongside the right of the school building, occasionally blinded by the sun reflecting off the modern silver trim around the windows. St. Bartholomew's was well-funded. It was the best education a teenager could get for miles, the only drawback was that you had to have a penis to attend.

Well, not anymore. But the administrators didn't need to know that.

At length, I came to the end of the building and rounded the corner, walking past some first floor windows. I peeked in quickly and saw a high tech classroom. I recognized the Smartboards on the wall (there was no way in hell I recognized them from the school I attended last year, but from my old school back home), and the bright, almost daylight-like fluorescent lights shined happily off a sleek Mac computer on a teacher's desk.

I walked past two such classrooms until I finally came to the courtyard.

Although the building looked to only be in the shape of a square when looking at it from the angle of the church, I quickly learned that that was not the case. The building was actually a vast rectangular U, with a beautiful grass courtyard leading to the actual main entrance. An elegant, wood-carved sign announced the name of the institution—you guessed it—St. Bartholomew's School for Boys in perfect script.

I sucked in a deep breath to prepare myself to enter the school for the first time. I even reached a hand up to run through my hair—an instinct I had to unconsciously make sure it was cooperating—when I realized I didn't have long mahogany hair anymore. I'd cut it all off.

I sighed at the loss of my hair. Whatever. It was now or fucking never.

I was vaguely aware of the dormitory houses behind me off to the right. Crowds of male students were pouring from them, also making their way to class, unaware that some of them would be learning next to a girl for the first time.

I reached down into the khaki slacks that composed the bottom half of my uniform and pulled out my schedule, along with a map, and the room number of the office I was checking into to begin my day. I scratched my neck for what seemed like the thousandth time, already not liking the itchy midnight blue polo I had to wear.

I was as hot as hell. Even though it was September, the weather was still clinging onto the eighty degree days of summer, and I had what felt like ten extra pounds of Ace bandage wrap around my middle to hide my breasts and make me look stockier.

Looking at my schedule, I realized just how much I was going to have to bite my tongue. For example, this was a Catholic school, I couldn't drop the f-bomb every time I felt the need to be sarcastic or express my agony. I also couldn't take the Lord's name in vain, and I couldn't say anything that would expose my disbelief in God.

Hell, the freaking essay I wrote to win the scholarship to this place asked me to identify my hardships and how I found the light of Jesus through it all. If I opened my stupid mouth and denounced any of what I wrote they'd probably take their money back and kick me out. And that was the last thing I would ever want to happen.

I needed this place to get me into college.

I felt myself yawning now, as I walked towards the big glass door with my nose in my papers.

o

M T W Th F 8:00 am: Morning Prayer with Father Joseph

M W F 10:30-11:25 am: Physical Education

M W F 12:05-1:00 pm: American Government

M W F 2:00-3:00 pm: Painting Level II

T Th 9:30-11:00 am: World Literature

T Th 11:15-12:30 pm: Environmental Sciences

T Th 2:00-3:15 pm: Statistics

o

For some reason, even though I'd stared at this schedule for a month now, and was glued to it on the bus ride over, I just noticed that no matter what time you had classes in the day, you still had to be awake and present for Morning Prayer. I was going to spend about forty minutes traveling here every day to sit through Morning Prayer at eight in the morning, and then what the hell would I do until I actually went to class? Sit on my ass on one of these benches in the courtyard?

I would worry about that later. I was expecting something like this. Being a new student, there's always a whole bunch of awkwardness you have to go through until you either blend successfully into the sidelines, or find a group of people to be your friends. I fully intended to do the former, and become a part of the white paint on the walls.

Because if I made friends, and they found out I'm not a boy…I shudder to think of what would happen to me.

Charlie was already restraining himself from calling in the white coats to take me away to a padded cell, I had no doubt that these religious nuts would do much worse.

I pressed my fingers behind the cool metal flap that was the door handle and pulled it open, stepping into my new school, the last high school I planned on attending before college.

I quickly walked forward to stand against the wall where a cheerful looking bulletin board had signs welcoming students back and wishing them a successful new year, and stared at the map some more.

Main office, main office… where was it again?

"Hey," someone said. There were dozens of conversations around me, some students pooling into small groups while others flowed around them. I glanced up quickly, nervously, before examining my map again.

"Hey," the voice said again, sounding closer, and I had a sinking feeling the person was talking to me.

I looked up again and found myself staring into two bright green eyes and a head of ginger-ish hair. He was tall, and lean, and slightly muscular, and by looking at him I forgot he was trying to speak with me.

"Hey," he repeated for the third time. "Are you Benjamin Cheney?"

"Um," I began, sounding way too girly. I coughed, and started again. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

One of my strategies to pass off as a guy was to lower my voice, but not by too much so that it sounded forced. Everything I had discovered and practiced until I was sore, I implemented now. I used my gut and made my words throaty. I used a gentle voice that greatly reduced the risk of squeaking, and of people hearing me well enough to think I sounded like a girl.

"Well, everyone knows about the kid who wins the Felton Scholarship. And you're also the only one with a map in their hands. Where are you going? The church? I can show you the way."

He turned to start walking, but I stopped him. "Uh no, thanks. I'm looking for the main office. I'm supposed to meet Principal Rogers there."

"Oh!" Understanding flickered across his face. "All right then. They're probably going to prepare you for the commencement speech."

I gulped as we began to walk together down the hall. "Commencement speech?"

What the hell kind of speech did I need to be prepared for?

"Yeah," he said, glancing my way. Seeing the terror on my face, he quickly began explaining. "You don't have to say anything, you just stand there while they introduce you and brag about how you've risen from the ashes to bring yourself to our school and better yourself through God," he finished, a little dramatically.

"Oh," I commented, nodding casually.

"I'm Edward Cullen, by the way," he said, sticking his hand in front of me to shake. I took it, and was surprised by the strength of his grip. I tried to match it, but I was pretty sure I still seemed like a limp fish to him.

"You can just call me Ben," I informed him in reply. That was one thing that was easy about this whole transition into the male gender, I got to remind people that I go by a nickname: it was once Bella instead of Isabella, and now Ben instead of Benjamin.

"So," Edward said conversationally, "how'd you 'rise out of the ashes'?"

For some reason, it was incredibly easy to talk to him as a guy. I think if he met me as a girl, I would have been a puddle of drool at his feet by the time he said hello to me the third time. I decided to answer him honestly.

"I wrote about my mom's death and the move me and my dad had to make, and the shit I went through at the school I went to last year."

"Crap, sorry," he apologized immediately. "I didn't realize you actually wrote about stuff you'd been through. I thought you just wrote about what every other St. Bart's wannabe writes about. You know, how they've used everything their parents provide them to better other people's lives, and how they found their piety."

"Nah, don't worry about," I assured him, feeling proud of myself for getting to use the typical guy response.

We had been passing classrooms on our walk down the hall, but I noticed there were wide double doors ahead of us made of soft pine. Once we were in front of them, Edward stopped us.

"So, here's the main office. See you at the commencement speech."

I nodded at him as he walked away, noticing the little cerulean plaques on the either side of the doors with the words MAIN OFFICE in white letters.

Not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer, I stepped forward and pulled the handle.

A blast of air conditioning hit me in the face as the door shut behind me. There were various species of plants lining along the windows and on top of the secretary's desk. Handwritten signs in Spanish instructing the night crews to leave items on the desk alone were taped along its edge, and I could see the backs of picture frames facing the penny-haired and pink-faced woman behind them. She reminded me of Mrs. Cope back in Forks, except she looked like she lost a ton of weight, and now skin was sagging everywhere. I was particularly turned off by the skin drooping off her neck like a chicken wattle.

"Hello there, what can I do for you?" she greeted in a pleasant enough tone.

I cleared my throat again, preparing to lower it. "My name is Ben Cheney, I'm supposed to meet the principle."

"Oh yes!" she smiled, stretching the skin on her face. "Hello Ben! So nice to meet you! I'll go tell Mr. Rogers you're here."

She pushed her emaciated looking frame away from the desk and disappeared behind a door on the opposite wall of the office. I idly scanned the room with my eyes, wondering why the hell the secretary needed so many damn plants. I'd never heard of anyone having a leaf or flower fetish before, but it seemed that this woman just might be the first.

"Benjamin?" I heard the voice of the secretary call. I almost didn't look up, still not used to recognizing my new name. "Come in here, please."

I forced my legs to move forward and into the room in which she was standing. I was fully dreading meeting the principal, especially after Edward told me about the speech. Heck, I dreaded every stupid situation where adults felt the need to introduce the new person to everyone. I was not going to be making any fucking friends anyway. People in Illinois sucked, in my opinion.

"Hello Mr. Cheney," a deep male voice said. I heard the secretary close the door behind her on her way out, leaving me alone with a large plump man with a purplish nose and cheeks. "Mrs. Logan is a nice woman, isn't she?"

I nodded, coming to stand in front of him with my hands crossed behind my back. I just fucking met the woman, but sure, she's nice.

"Well, welcome to our school, young man," Principal Rogers boomed out his introduction to himself and the school. "That was quite an excellent essay you wrote and we are excited to have you here for your senior year."

Rogers puffed himself up, and then with great effort, lowered himself into the large leather chair behind his mahogany desk. The whole room had an academic feel—high shelves full of thick, impressive looking books on them; navy blue walls with wainscoting and several different diplomas hanging sturdily. I felt more studious just standing there.

"I'm glad to be here," I told him politely.

"Good, good," he rumbled. "Yes, well, we are indeed glad to have you. Now I see you've elected to commute to campus?"

"Yes, sir."

"But when I look at your records, I see that you live in Chelmsford. Wouldn't you rather live here? That way you can make friends faster, become acclimated to the school…"

I knew what he was saying, he didn't need to word it so civilly. I lived in a shit town that was falling apart as much as my duplex. Any person in their right mind would choose the manicured lawns and safe dormitory housing in beautiful Wharton over crappy Chelmsford. But I was not in my right mind, obviously. I was freaking pretending to be a boy so that I could go here. And besides, how in the name of all that is good was I going to pretend I had a penis when I was in the showers? And if you could tell me how to magically hide the fact that I bled from my vagina once a month, then I was all ears. But since I was guessing there was no one who could give me that answer, I was just going to commute to school-thanks.

It would be hilarious if I could give Rogers those explanations as my reasoning for not living on campus, but since I couldn't, I got ready to give him a much more standard one.

"I realize that, sir, but for now my father needs me at home."

"Oh, okay," Rogers raised his eyebrows at me in resigned disbelief, "but if you change your mind, just know that housing is included in your scholarship, and you have until the twenty-second of September to move into the senior's dormitory."

"I will keep that in mind, thank you," I respectfully replied, even though my mind was already busy forgetting the date.

"Now, Benjamin, to begin each school year, Father Joseph gives a commencement speech. And since you're the winner of our prestigious Felton Scholarship, you're required to sit on one of chairs behind him with the other teachers and administrators and stand when he announces you. It's a little surprise we like to spring. Purelt ceremonial. You think you can do that?"

I didn't know why he was asking, it seemed like I didn't have a choice in the matter at all. But I agreed anyway.

"Of course, sir."

"Good. Now follow me, it's time we get down to the church. Commencement's about to start."

Rogers gave me a friendly smirk before heaving himself out of the chair. I followed him, convinced that this man was so large that by looking at him from the front, no one would realize skinny little "Ben" was behind him.


Edward

All eight hundred students were slowly settling into the pews and balcony of the church, waiting for commencement to begin. I was sitting between my good friends Emmett and Jasper, bored out of my mind.

Ben Cheney was St. Bart's hottest gossip right now, but every guy was trying to act like we weren't like the girls over at Mary Anna's by casually avoiding him as if he were just another one of us, and by nonchalantly asking one, and only one, question about him.

Since I was the only one so far with the balls to approach him, everyone had been slowly coming up to me, asking their one question. Even Emmett and Jasper were trying to maintain a cool exterior, but I could see right through it. I knew how curious they were.

"So," Emmett began, "is the new kid chill?"

"Yeah, man. New kid's chill."

I could sense the eyes of other curious students on us in the nearby pews, but I didn't care. It was better than repeating myself.

"What's he like?" Jasper asked.

"Chill," I stubbornly responded.

"Come on, man, that's not what I meant."

"Well," I said, thinking about how my first conversation with him surprised me, "he's not like Aaron over there."

I tilted my head across the aisle at Aaron Matthews, the kid who won the Felton last year, and the biggest momma's boy on the planet. He was my nemesis, and he was out to try and stop me from becoming valedictorian this year. Little does he know that was never going to happen.

Emmett, Jasper and I were all grumbling under our breath about what we'd like to do to Matthews, in as nice language as possible while in the church, when Principal Rogers finally stepped forward to quiet us all down. He gave his little welcome back speech, and then stepped down for Father Joseph to take his place at the podium at the left of the altar.

Father Joseph did not fail to be as predictable as he was every year. We all had to sit and listen to another long-winded speech about how fortunate we were to have God in our hearts, and how we couldn't ever take for granted the opportunity to be educated under His guiding light. It took all the strength I had to keep my eyes from rolling into the back of my head. Looking over at my friends, it appeared they were struggling to stay awake also. Every year it was the same thing. No one wanted to wake up at seven-thirty in the morning after being able to sleep in till noon all summer long, especially when they could all predict exactly what was going to be said.

Every student perked up a bit once Father Joseph began to speak about the opportunity that God had provided through the Felton Scholarship. We all looked behind him to Ben Cheney, who was sitting rigidly with his head bowed slightly. Poor kid, just about every one of us was sizing him up. He didn't stand a chance at avoiding all the criticism. It must have blown to go to a new school your senior year. I wouldn't ever want to put myself through that…but then again, after what Ben alluded to earlier, this must be nothing compared to what he's been through.

Finally, Ben was standing after Father Joseph announced him. He gave his attentive audience in the pews a tight smile, and a small movement of the head that could be classified as a nod, before he sat back down in his chair.

He looked so stiff. Maybe he was nervous. And by being able to look at him from afar, I got to really take in his appearance.

Ben was one of those short guys with a broad body and small hips. He probably also worked out to compensate for his height, if the way his pecked jutted out a bit were any judge. I always felt bad for guys with his body type—they never seemed to get the girls. And if they did, it was always a really insecure girl who was only with the guy because she liked the idea of a boyfriend, and he was there and available.

Ben's hair was kind of short and choppy; in fact, he looked like he cut it on his own without a mirror. Or it could be intentionally messy. He could be one of those guys that likes that "I just came out of a garbage can, but I still smell all right" look. I didn't know.

This year's commencement speech seemed to drag on forever. I felt like every year this whole ordeal just gets more pompous and drawn out. Maybe years down the line, when I'm working where I'll be working, I'll look back on my senior year commencement speech and appreciate it. Maybe I'll even feel nostalgic.

Yeah right, I'll be eighty before that happens.


Bella

Exiting the cathedral after the commencement speech, I was beginning to think it was a bad idea to apply for a scholarship at such a religious school. I was scared as shit to be sitting there among every other adult in the school, separated from my peers. Way to make me feel isolated, Rogers.

Sitting like I was a fucking statue in a display case, I allowed some fragments of the speech I just heard to be absorbed into my brain.

All this talk of being merciful to others and they will be merciful to you, and how we should be charitable to our neighbors in our thoughts, our words, and then in our acts…I didn't know what to make of it.

So walking down the hall, back towards the main office, where I would be given more uniforms and a locker and such, I tried to make sense of it all.

Why the hell did religion try and dictate your thoughts? And did winning the Felton Scholarship make me God's shiny new charity case at St. Bart's? Because that was what it sounded like.

And all if it was bullshit. It was just such a load of bullshit I could feel the bile rising in my throat the more I thought of it.

It was better than the prison you went to last year.

I let myself sigh internally. This place was rainbows and puppies and sunshine compared to everything I'd been through and the place I was living in right now, but I still didn't want to accept it. I'd become a masochist, really. I don't know how to live through my day anymore without loving how much I pity myself.

This whole "Ha-ha suckers you actually gave your prized scholarship to a girl," and all the hardship surrounding it, were the only things I had to feed my masochism now.

I thought over my tendency to enjoy misery throughout the rest of my first day at St. Bart's. I had to deal with some rectory nuns who taught some of the classes introducing me to certain kids, but other than that awkwardness, it was a piece of cake. I couldn't, however, avoid the sensation that, wherever I went, curious stares were following me.

I expected to be pushed up against a locker and bullied like in those awful eighties movies, but it never happened. I didn't even hear the low whispers of people talking about me right before I rounded the corner and caught them gossiping.

No one had a full out conversation with me for the rest of the day. No one spoke to me of anything but simple pleasantries and standard "getting to you know" stuff. I saw that Edward Cullen kid in the cafeteria around lunchtime, and I thought about joining him. But then I remembered that we weren't girls, and that I couldn't go up to him with a shy smile and a blush and ask if the seat beside him was taken. Guys just didn't work like that, so I took my lunch out to a bench in the courtyard.

I was let down by the fact that Edward was the only one to approach me. Yet, as I thought about it more on the bus ride home that day, I decided I should be thankful that no one else felt the need to ingratiate themselves too much. It only helped me achieve my goal of blending into the scenery.

That was what I wanted to happen, after all.

In fact, this whole pretending to be a guy thing might be easier than it actually seems.