Author's Note: I'm surprised, I actually got some reviews. Didn't think any of you would be crazy enough to read it. Thanks, TheSaneCrazyGirl and Smileyfacer!

As always, I own nothing.

My father drove me down to the airport, silent. Neither of us were particularly happy about this self-imposed exile of mine, but it was the only choice. We had to keep the authorities off our backs.

"So, what's his name?" I asked.

Father gave a start. "Oh…Charlie Swan. Chief Charlie Swan." We both grinned. The irony of that. I was running away from the authorities, and the person who I happened to be living with was the chief of police. Ha, ha, ha.

He gave me one last long, sad look. "You don't have to go. We've been working on that Cloaking crystal—"

It would never be ready in time. I had to get out of here before he was arrested. "Father, I want to go," I insisted. "There are so many raw minerals in Forks—think of all the crystals I could make. Besides, I should get a bit of change of scenery." With that closing line, I boarded my terminal.

The plane flight was uneventful. I dislike riding on planes; ever since I began to work with crystals I lost all respect for metal machines. However, I had recently perfected my use of the Levitation crystal, so I wasn't worried at all. My father had given me a whole suitcase full of the precious things, along with my own refining equipment, and, of course, I wore as many as humanely possible as jewelry.

As the huge metal lump touched down in Port Angeles, I noticed with grim satisfaction that it was raining. Good. I absolutely hated the sunshine. It was too warm, and bright, and it made me look washed out. Not that I would ever be pretty, with my pale skin, black hair, and violet eyes.

Charlie was waiting for me in his police cruiser. I had expected it, but I still felt a visceral sense of dread getting in. I reminded myself that I was a guest, not a prisoner. I was here by choice.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug which I didn't return. "Chief Swan," I greeted him curtly.

"Lark, it's so nice to finally see you!" he gushed.

"Cyclonis, please."

My first name was the only thing my mother had ever given me, and I hated it. It was sweet and cute. I was neither sweet nor did I wish to be. I was not weak. I preferred to go by my surname, which reminded me of the long line which I had descended from. Once, a long time ago, in medieval Europe, we had been Kings. They addressed us as Master. It was my father's dream, and now mine, to bring those old glory days back.

"So, um, how's your father?" I hoped that it was just the excitement of seeing me, because if this man was as chatty as he was being right now I swear I would run away from home.

"Doctor Cyclonis is in optimal health," I replied in monotone. Maybe he would take a hint.

He did, and shut up. Thank God.

The drive to Forks past in relative silence. I didn't mind at all. I almost preferred the silence, it gave me time to think.

When Charlie did speak again, we were nearing the house.

"So, I bought you a car."

Was he serious? A hunk of metal that I would have to call my own? I. Hate. Machines. Just a phobia that I happen to have. They're disgusting. They're so oily, and loud, and…it just gets on my nerves.

I realized I should probably look thankful. After all, that was how a normal teenage girl would react.

Remind me to rant about how much I hate normal in a few minutes, 'kay?

"Thanks, Chief Swan. Really, you shouldn't have. It is a gesture of disproportionate kindness and welcoming."

He smiled awkwardly. "I thought you'd prefer it to being driven to school in a police cruiser every morning."

I weighed my phobia for all oily, disgusting, polluting machines against my phobia for police cars specifically. He was right. "Thank you, Chief Swan. You have my sincerest gratitude."

We pulled up into his driveway, and I glanced at the offending vehicle. It was a truck (Ew. Seriously, if I was going to have to drive anything, I'd prefer it to be something small and unobtrusive, like one of those Smart Cars). What's more, it was bright red. Standing next to it, or sitting, for the one in the wheelchair's case, were to males. Both had deep, russet-brown skin and long black hair. The incapacitated man's hair was streaked with grey. I concluded that they were most probably father and son, or perhaps grandfather and grandson.

"This is Billy Black, and his son, Jacob. I bought the truck off of them," Chief Swan explained.

I glanced at them again. The boy, Jacob, seemed to be about my age. He grinned at me, and I flashed a smile back. At least he was friendly, and he looked strong. Never underestimate an ally in a potentially hostile place. "I built the engine from scratch!" he exclaimed. "You should have no trouble with it at all."

I smiled again, this time a bit more strained. I really wanted to work with my crystals a bit before the nightmare of high school tomorrow. "Chief Swan, Mr. Black, Jacob, if you would excuse me, I have to unpack." The two Blacks nodded, and made their way off, while Charlie opened up the front door to show me to my room.

It was upstairs, a fairly large room with an adjourning bathroom. The walls were a dark grey, and—"The saleslady picked out the bedspread. I hope you like purple."

Purple happened to be one of my favorite colors. What do teenagers say these days? "Purple is…cool," I replied shakily.

Thank God Charlie didn't see the need to hover. We would probably get along fine if he continued like this. I sighed, unlatching my suitcase and beginning the long, arduous process of getting all my crystals and equipment set up.

I was not looking forward to my first day of school tomorrow. This place had a grant total of 357 students, so, of course, I would be a commodity. A freak.

Not that I had ever been a people person. I was always too logical to understand their stupid whims. I mean, the need for every girl to have a boy on their arm? The desire of every boy to start making out every second of the day? I just found it all stupid. Perhaps I had too high standards. If there was every going to be a guy gracing my arm, he would have to be a genius, with an intelligence to match my own, absolutely gorgeous, strong, fast, devoted to me, and not weirded out by my crystals. Fat chance I was going to find that sort of guy in Forks.

Besides, I found high school stupid. The work I had done with my father had forced me to apply principles of science and math that I bet half the teachers in this dump hadn't heard of. I already had a PhD in physics and the higher maths. I did not see the point of going to high school besides fitting in, which was a bore.

So, with those thoughts floating around in my head, I clicked off the light and settled down in my purple comforter. No surprise that I didn't end up sleeping to well.

----------------

The next morning, the only thing evident outside of my window was thick fog. Not bad, gloomy weather for my gloomy first day of school. Great, just great.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck, and I thanked him. Otherwise, we had a silent meal. I was 'cool' with that. (I had been practicing using my teenager slang, so that I could at least give the semblance of fitting in.)

As soon as I was finished eating, I decided to leave. Might as well get this whole nightmare over with. I donned a large, purple parka, which almost resembled a cape, then put on a magenta jacket over the whole thing. I pulled the hood up. I might adore the rain, but I did not adore being wet or cold.

I got into the truck, trying not to wince or scrunch my nose as the scent of gasoline which was so evident to me. I put the keys in the ignition, and, much to my displeasure, the engine literally roared to life. Not only did I dislike the damage already being done to my sensitive ears, but there was no better way to announce my arrival to the whole world, aka high school.

Nightmare. At least inside the car, it was dry.

I had completely memorized all the maps I could find of Forks and the surrounding area. After all, it is wise to know the territory when going into a new situation. I had also briefly analyzed maps of surrounding settlements, including Jacksonville, and Port Angeles, where the airport had been. I was nearly positive that I would be able to drive back in worst came to worst.

I pulled into the school parking lot (despite my knowledge of its location, the school felt the need to advertise its presence with large signs announcing "Fork High School.") I sauntered forward into the building labeled "Front Office" (really, these people must love to overstate the obvious.) I took one last deep breath of the fresh, clean outside air before pushing open the door.

Inside was brightly lit, and warmer than I expected. The walls were painted cheery colors, the floor was a commercial grey speckled with orange, and there were plants overflowing from all corners. I took a seat on the large couch and waited to be noticed.

A red-haired woman from behind the desk looked up. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm Cyclonis," I replied. "Lark Cyclonis."

Her eyes lit up with immediate recognition. I suspect that I was a hot topic of gossip, no doubt. Chief Swan practically adopting the teenage daughter of an old high school friend, who also raised this daughter without a mother. I suppose everyone was waiting to see what sort of freak I would be.

"Of course," she said, digging through her precariously balanced stack of documents to recover my schedule and a map. I looked disinterestedly at all of my courses. I sighed. It looked like I was in for a boring school year. They had put me in Biology, Trigonometry, and I wasn't even sure if this school had honors courses, because I certainly wasn't in any. She handed me a map of the school and started explaining routes to classes, but I blocked her out. I had already memorized the blueprints of the school, along with every teacher, their bio, and their credentials. I didn't need to hear her petty explanation.

I went back to my truck and grabbed my bag, shoving my schedule and the slip I needed to get signed by all my teachers in there, too. I could feel everyone's eyes burning on my back, but I decided to ignore them. I quickly zipped up my bag, slung it across my back, and began making my way to my locker, hood casting shadows over my eyes. No need to be obviously weird from the start.

I dumped my extra books in the locker, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. It wasn't like I lacked the confidence, I just hoped that they all would take the hint that I didn't want anything to do with them. Luckily, no one bothered me on my way to my first class, Literature.

I made it to the classroom without being harassed by any of my peers, and handed the slip to the teacher, Mr. Mason. He gawked at me for a second, then sent me to an empty desk at the back of the room. I grinned mentally, at least he hadn't introduced me to the rest of the class, and surveyed the room. They were all staring at me. Most of them seemed to lack the spark of intelligence in their eyes. They all seemed to have fairly pale skin. At least I wouldn't stand out too much.

I glanced down at the reading list, to find all of the material I had already read. It wasn't mentally stimulating at all. I sighed again. This was going to be a boring year.

When the bell finally rang—and it was a nasally, loud sound that grated on my delicate ears—a gangly boy with skin problems and hair as black as an oil spill leaned across my desk to talk with me. Great, I couldn't brush him off without seeming rude, and as much as I did not care, it would be best to maintain appearances of fitting in at school.

"You're Lark Cyclonis, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club geek.

"Just Cyclonis," I corrected. Everyone within a three foot radius swiveled their head to stare at me. I guess teenagers didn't go by their last names. In the professional world, it was common, and that was one tradition I was not dropping.

"What's your next class?" he asked. Nosy, anyone?

"Government, with Jefferson, in building six," I replied, reading off the mental schedule I had assembled in my head. Government was another pointless class. Who cared about learning about our messed up system of democracy? If I had my way—which I most definitely would—the world would be mine before we were all grown up anyway. There isn't much to learn about a tyranny.

"I'm in building four, so I could show you the way…" I bristled. He was overly helpful, and that meant just one thing: he was interested in me. God, I thought I had escaped that. I guess in a small town, girls were such a precious commodity that I was actually considered attractive. And, of course, I couldn't say no without gaining the reputation of being nasty, stuck up, and aloof.

It didn't help that I was naturally nasty, stuck up, and aloof. "By the way, I'm Eric," he added.

"Thanks," I replied, trying my best to arrange my face into a grateful smile. In my opinion, I failed miserably, but this boy, this…Eric seemed to buy it.

He tried to make small talk on the way. "So, is this a lot different from Phoenix?"

I swear several people were following us, hanging on our every word. Then again, I've always been paranoid.

"Not so much. High school is high school, whether it's baking hot or freezing cold."

"Hot…it doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"No, two or three times a year, if we're lucky."

"What's that like?"

Did this boy lack an imagination or something? "Sunny. And hot."

"Aren't people from Arizona supposed to be tan? You don't look very tan."

Wow, stereotype me and state the obvious, all in one sentence. "I'm not. Maybe that's why they kicked me out," I said dryly. He laughed.

"You're good."

We reached his building, which saved me from more mind-numbingly dull conversation. At least the people here understood sarcasm.

The rest of the morning passed in the same fashion. The classes were tedious and uninteresting, and various students competed to get to walk me to my next class. All of the teachers seemed uninterested in me, except for my Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner. After I corrected a mistake he made on the subject of complex numbers, he forced me to stand, introduce myself to the class, and explain exactly why I was wrong and he was right. Instead, I pointed out his flaw, citing pages from the elementary textbook he gave us. He blushed furiously and nearly gave me a detention, saying if this wasn't my first day he would not tolerate such disrespect. I practically snorted out loud.

I stood in the lunch line besides a girl who sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish. She was short, and had a crazy head full of curls. She prattled on incessantly about everything, and I concentrated on blocking her out. I smiled and nodded, and the idiot didn't realize that I hadn't listened to a single word she said.

She lead me to the table full of her friends. Again, I sighed. I would have liked to sit alone, but best to keep up the appearance of being a normal, social teenager. The boy from English, Eric the Geek, waved at me. I tried not to glare back.

It was then that I saw them.

I was scoping out the cafeteria, taking note of all the students, their "labels" (cool, geek, cheerleader, etc), and where they sat. These five sat in the corner. They weren't talking, they weren't eating—in fact, they all had a tray of untouched food in front of them. Their overall strangeness caught my eye, so I turned to stare at them.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was large, extremely muscled, and with short, buzzed brown hair. One had blond hair and an expression of disgust on his face, bordering pain. The last one was lanky, less bulky, and with untidy, bronze colored hair. He looked more boyish than the others, who almost gave the appearance of being college students.

There were two girls, too, exact opposites. One was tall and statuse, with a beautiful figure and long, golden, wavy hair. The other was short, pixie-like, thin to the extreme, and with small features. She had black hair cropped short and pointing out in all directions.

However, they all contained similar features. They were pale, pale white, paler than all the students of this sunless town, even paler than me, though not by much. They had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tone. They had purplish shadows under those eyes, and had straight, perfect, angular features. Not to mention they were all devastatingly, inhumanely beautiful.

That wasn't what caught my eye, though. What I found interesting about them is they were all staring off in random directions, looking just as bored as me.

Interesting. If they were as bored as me, there was a possibility that their intelligence could rival mine.

I turned to face my table again. "Who are they?" I asked curiously, before glancing back again.

Miss Curly-hair followed my gaze. "They're the Cullens," she whispered, as if it was some huge, juicy gossip topic, then she giggled. "Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice. They all live with Dr. Cullen and his wife."

I glanced sideways at them. If their father was a doctor, they probably had some sort of better education. Their names were strange, too, but then again, I asked to be called Cyclonis, so I wasn't going to judge them.

Okay, who was I kidding. Of course I was judging them. I had been judging them from the moment I stepped in.

Another member of my table stepped in to continue telling the tale. "They're all, like, together and all, like couples. I'm not even sure if that's legal!"

"They're foster children, so it's not disgusting or anything. None of them are really related," pointed out another teen at my table.

"Yeah, but its just…weird. They live in the same house!" Curly-hair finished.

I glanced at them one more time, then grinned in spite of myself. I had just found my mystery to keep me busy through the boring days of high school.

"So, they've always lived here, or what?" I asked. Now I was in full information-gathering mode.

"No, they moved down, like, two years ago from, like, Alaska."

Interesting. So I wasn't the only newbie here.

"Who is the bronze haired one?" Everyone here knew my name, so only fair I should start learning theirs. I peeked at him again from the corner of my eye, and he was looking at me, almost frustrated. Interesting, very interesting.

"That's Edward Cullen," the curly haired girl pouted. "Absolutely gorgeous, but don't waste your time. Apparently, none of us are good enough for him. Not that I care."

Why did they assume when I asked about a guy that I was interested in him? I will never understand the teenage psyche. If these Cullens were half as mature as I hoped, I completely understand why that Edward boy had turned down the chatterbox of a girl. I bit my lip to hide a smile.

Finally, the bell rang, and the five got up and gracefully made their way over to the door. I observed their movements like I would that of a particularly interesting science project. Speaking of science, my next class, Biology.

I made my way into the room, handing the teacher my slip to get signed and waiting to be assigned a seat. The teacher pointed me to an empty desk, and sure enough, it was next to the Edward boy. He stiffened as a approached him, and again, I had to hide a grin. Poor kid, must have been attacked by practically every girl in the school because of his looks. From the stares I had been giving him at lunchtime, it was a logical conclusion for him to jump to that I would be the same way.

However, as the class progressed, and he didn't relax, I became a bit more curious. I glanced at his face, and was surprised by the expression I found there: he was furious. Completely and utterly furious.

His eyes were coal black.

I had given him no reason to hate me, but the anger in his gaze was directed at me. Another facet of this mystery I was determined to crack. It annoyed me somewhat that he found me so repugnant, but mostly, I thought it was interesting. After all, I felt most of these sheep-like teenagers were repugnant, so I was in no place to get all offended.

The entire class, he remained stiff and rigid, until the bell rang, and he fluidly exited the room before the rest of the class realized they were dismissed. Again, I tried to hide a grin. Ironic, the one kid I wouldn't mind talking to, and he decided to avoid me like a plague.

I made my way to PE class, not particularly excited. As a scientist, I disliked unnecessary physical exertion. Also, it frustrated me to participate in activities that I had not completely mastered. I stood at the doorway of the gym, glancing in nervously, wondering what to do.

"Aren't you Lark Cyclonis?" came a male voice from behind me. I whirled to see an cute, baby-faced boy with carefully spiked hair.

"Just Cyclonis," I corrected him. Already, this was getting old.

"Did you like, stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or something? I've never seen him act like that."

My eyes flashed to this kid's face again. For a moment, I felt an inking of respect for his powers of observation, then I realized that my newness meant that everyone was overanalyzing every little move I made. I gave him a small smile, trying to keep up the sky, nice new girl act. "That was the guy I sat next to in Biology? I don't know, I never spoke to him."

Mike grinned. "Well, if I had been lucky enough to sit next to you, I would have talked to you."

Why did every teenage male on the planet only think of girls in one way, or so it seemed? I smirked. "Well, good thing you didn't. I don't need trouble from the teachers my first day for talking in class."

He blushed and, thankfully, left me alone after that.

The PE teacher gave me a uniform, which I was not required to change into today, then broke the class into volleyball teams. I got to be scorekeeper. Yippee for me.

Finally, finally, finally the day was over, and I made my way back to the front office. When I pushed open the door, I almost ran into him.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me; I could tell from his tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice me, so I smirked silently and eavesdropped on his conversation. He was speaking to the receptionist, and, from what I could tell, he was trying to switch out of sixth period Biology.

So he hated me that much? This was starting to become funny. I was used to being the villain, not the victim. I hadn't exactly been a bully at my old school in Arizona, but when people annoyed me, I had always gotten revenge. It was a strange feeling, being in the role of a victim. I almost liked it; it was a welcome relief. It certainly would help my reputation, and get people to underestimate me.

I'd show them all when I ruled the world.

"Never mind, then," Cullen growled in that low, velvety voice of his. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you for your help." He turned on his heel and stormed out the door. I bit back another smile. It was funny to think that I had such an affect on him.

I stepped up to the desk, handing in my signed slip, replying to the receptionist's questions about my classes with the minimum amount of response required. Finally, I got to make my way back to my truck and home.

A complete and total nightmare. The classes were boring, the kids were average, and already I seemed to have been making enemies. Father would not be happy. Suddenly, I felt an irrational desire to be back in Arizona, back with all my crystals and no need to hide my wicked plans to rule the world. I missed it more than I would admit.

I wiped the moisture from my eyes, and started up the engine. Future queens do not cry, not matter the circumstances.