Chapter 2: New Day, New School

BPOV (Izzy)

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! Annoying alarm clock, why did I buy you again? I pounded it twice. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! CRASH! Alarm clock had it coming. Well, I was awake now. I sat up. In bed.

My, what an interesting inner monologue you have.

Sigh.

Oh, come on. I'm the one whose supposed to be your inner bitch, remember? What's with all the sighing.

You know, normal people don't have inner bitch voices in their heads.

Since when could you be classified as normal?

Oh, well. On with my morning! Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I began my morning routine. Fifteen minutes later I was finishing up my toast, fully clothed and ready to go.

Wait, are you fully clothed? You've gotta make sure. One time, you walked out the door in you bra and boxers, remember?

What? I'm a boxer girl. Lots of girls wear boxers these days. They're comfy.

As you can tell, I'm not really a morning person. Jeans? Check. Band shirt? Yep. Favorite belt with the silver studs? Mmhmm. Shoes? Black vans on my feet.

Good job, pat on the back. You can successfully put on clothes.

Oh shut up, head. Stepping out the door, I checked my reflection for a second in the hall mirror. Can't have the teachers spotting my babies, right? I'm pretty sure my beautiful blades would be confiscated. And the police would have to be called and I'd have to go through way too much trouble just to get my knives back. Dark choppy shoulder blade-length hair. Metal ring in the left corner of my bottom lip. Two more metal rings the outer corner of my right eyebrow. Studs in my left. And the silver chain of the necklace I always wore peeking out of my shirt. Yep. My usual. Alright, now let's see what this little town has to offer.

Alice POV

Why did we have to move here, again? I had lots of friends back home in New York. But apparently, my mom decided Seattle was a better place for her interior design business. And since daddy dearest is in the big house for life, I don't exactly have many options.

Besides, Alice Brandon is made up of tougher stuff than a pesky move can destroy. I may seem like it, but I'm not that cliche fashion bitch. Yes, I'll admit I'm a bit spoiled but hey, there's nothing wrong with liking the finer things in life.

Now I'm in this tiny little town in Washington. Everybody's going to know everybody here, and I'll just be that midget freak who always dresses differently. Not my fault none of these small town people have any fashion sense. Oh well. Maybe somebody will at least dress decently. Or I could always just try to make some friends, and hope my clothes knowledge will rub off on them. Yeah, that's what I'll do. Feeling more positive already, I hopped into my beloved yellow Porsche and rolled out. The great thing about my mom never being here, and my dad being in prison is that my mom always gets guilty that we aren't really close, 'cause of her job and stuff, and she gives me lots of expensive presents and money. Well, here's hoping my first day at Forks High won't go down the toilet.

Edward POV

Forks. What a joke. And apparently my new home. Who names a town after silverware? Seriously. But my mom apparently married a guy who lives here. A guy who hates my guts. And just happens to own a sporting goods store that he expects me to work at. For free. Aren't there laws about that? I guess, not if you're technically "related" to the employer. And guess what? I have a stepbrother now. Yaaaay. Not. His name is Mike. Newton.

Or, as he likes to introduce himself as, Newton. Mike Newton. Who does he think he is? James Bond? Oh wait, he does. I caught him in his "spy gear" playing with his toys the other day. But of course, he calls it his "spy gadget watch." Idiot. At least I got Jasper. I know, sounds like a cat, right? Nowhere near as dumb as Newton, though. So glad I got to keep my last name, Mason. Sure my dad left me and my mom before I was born and didn't even wait to see me, but his last name is much better than the vile Mike Newton's.

Jasper Whitlock is my brother. I know he isn't technically related to me, but we're brothers. He's my mom's son, even though she wasn't the one that gave birth to him. He was "adopted". We found him, we took him in, well, more like he and his 'dad' took us in, at first, and when we could, we legally adopted him. Nobody questioned it, everybody just assumed he was my half brother. After all, my mom had had a stage she went through.

She…..had some rough spots she went through, and kind of… slept around a little bit. And yes, she did resort to prostitution. But only briefly. And only because we didn't have any funds. As soon as me and Jasper got old enough to do any sort of job in Chicago, we did. We worked so that she wouldn't have stand on the street. Forks wasn't just the Newtons' house, it was my mom trying to give us all a new start, one that didn't consist of everybody calling our mom a whore, slut, and similar names.

And then there was Jasper's dad. He actually was pretty decent, had a ranch. He wasn't really Jasper's dad, just a kind, lonely soul. He took care of us, treated us like family, even though he had just found us. He decided to take us in, like he did Jasper. And then, one day, he went to buy some supplies off the ranch, and got into a car crash. And our mom…was gone. She crashed, withdrew into herself. It happened again two years later when we were fifteen and Jasper ran away and lived on the street for a while. So when Newton came around on some kinda business trip, we approved. Until he started sneering at us, cussing us out. He's actually pretty creative with cusses when he's drunk. But he took care of our mom. So if he hated our guts it was fine with us. As long as he treated her right.

But still, even though I got that stuff, that didn't mean I was looking forward to my first day at Forks High. In the words of Jasper, this was gonna be hell.

Jasper POV (The one we're all looking forward to! Don't lie to yourself.)

"Jasper! Come on! We're gonna be late!" Like I really wanted to go in the first place.

"Yeah!" I called back. I grabbed my stuff and stashed my iPod in my back pocket, leaving my earbuds hanging out. I stopped for a second, then grabbed my switchblade and stuffed it in there too. It was a habit I had picked up from my days of street fighting in Chicago. I guess we're gonna do the whole life story thing, huh. Stupid inner monologue. Of course, nobody else knew how I made money when I went off on my own, or before, when I was just another kid living on the streets. Even though I was young, I learned quick. I quickly rose to the top. Every now and then someone got in a swipe, and I had the scars to back me up, but I was good at thinking on my feet and strategizing, and never lost a fight. When I left for a year, I naturally kind of, fell back into it.

But I couldn't let my adoptive family down. Well, our messed up version of a family, anyways. We were odd, but we worked. And to me, they were my real family, even if we didn't share the same DNA. Eventually, the continual watching my back, sleeping with one eye open, and living in the street or crappy hotels got to me, and I went back home. Luckily, I had "borrowed" a cell phone and could call home. Actually, luckily they hadn't changed their numbers, and picked up. There were lots of things that could have happened and that one call left wouldn't have made it through. Or they could've just kicked me out. But they didn't. and it brought our family closer together. We all stuck up for each other. I was a usually a quiet kind of guy, but the quietness had always had another purpose. It was all strategic. There was always a part of my brain that was constantly analyzing, making plans, marking escape routes, and stuff like that. Even after I went home I still occasionally snuck out to fight. It brought in cash, and, I'd never admit it, but I liked it. It was where I could relieve tension, stress, and I could put my strategic mind to use. I felt alive. It was where I belonged. In some ways, it was home.

EmmetPOV

"You really think you can take me?" That ugly ass guy sneered. That's it. Fucker's going down, and he's goin down hard. Sure, I'd been drinking, but I could tell he'd been drinking more. And I think he was a little high, too. I knew I could hold my drink. It seems like he couldn't say the same.

I threw the first punch, but the ass was provoking me. That's what I said to my dad that evening. Then again, he was stoned, so I don't think he'll remember anything about that night. Or most nights, to be honest. He blacked out my eye and then passed out on the couch. Same old, same old.

I woke up with my head feeling like a marching band had led an elephant wearing those foot horn things around. Hangovers are horrible. Which reminds me, I gotta go get my dad some aspirin, or he's gonna kill me. I'll deal with him later. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll just go sleep at the Super 8 again. Ray won't mind. He's usually out drinking with my dad. Guess I'll take the truck too… maybe I should just live on my own. It's not like he'd notice. I should just skip on out of town. Yeah. That's what I'll do. I'm not gonna put up with his crap anymore. I grabbed my gym bag, stuffed some clothes in there, and some of my shit that I didn't wanna leave behind. Money. I need money. I snuck into the living room and raided anything in sight. In total I came up with $950 bucks. Not too bad. I thought we'd have less. That'll let me get somewhere else where I can find some kinda job. Now I just need to pick a place. Well, it has to be off most maps…wait. I think I have a grand-aunt, the only other family I had, in this little town called Forks. I could go there. If she doesn't want me, I can find somewhere else to stay.

"Hey Nonna." I walked up behind the elderly, nice, little old lady I call my grand-aunt, and kissed her cheek.

"Hi. I punched an old geezer today. Just thought you should know. So, how was work?" Yeah, she was sweet, but she was a tough old lady. She was definitely a McCarty. Unlike my dad. That's right. My dad wasn't even man enough to give me his last name. To him, I was just a nuisance. Sure, I took care of him, but he didn't care. But I've got Nonna now. She was a feisty old bat, but she was my Nonna..

"Oh, don't forget, school starts tomorrow. Now, I know you're eighteen and old enough to be a legal adult, but you're my kid, and don't you forget it. So you're goin ta school, ya hear? I don' wan' you to be late on your first day, either. No skippin' out to make money. You got a job already. Just relax, I've got money in the bank, and now that I have ya', I'll be takin' care of ya'. Got it?" she asked, sternly, but the twinkle in her eye told me she was just being Nonna.

"Yes, ma'm"

"Good. Now sit your ass down on that there seat and eat some dinner, already."

"Yes, Nonna."

Tomorrow, school would start. The enemy of kids everywhere, where they throw a bunch of hormonal, adolescent teens into a building together, along with a few poor souls who have to try to teach them stuff, when they don't really want to learn it, and hope they make it out alive. Yeah, whose bright idea was that? I mean, seriously. I avoided it at all costs. I doubt any of the students knows me. I'm barely there.

RosaliePOV

"Hello?"

"Hey, mom."

"Hello, honey. Is there anything important that you're calling about? I'm busy."

"You are? Still? Well…actually, I can handle it on my own. Just wanted to say hi, I guess."

"Good. Now, is that all I have to get back to work."

"Okay. Be safe. B-" Before I even finished saying bye, she hung up. The whole conversation barely took five seconds.

She's always out on business trips and stuff. Ever since my dad got sent to prison, she's thrown herself into work to keep her mind off of it. In a way, it's betrayal, because she didn't even care enough about me to see how I was handling it. She didn't try to get over what he had done together, even though I was the one who got beaten that night. She didn't try to comfort me after finding out that my own father took my virginity. By force. You'd think that most mothers would be pretty damn concerned. Not her. Oh, no. Rosalie's a big girl. She can handle herself. She totally isn't scarred for life by an, oh, life-scarring event. NOooooo.

Stop. Breathe, Rosalie, breathe. I need to stop thinking about that before I break down. This was how I got over it. I didn't have anyone to help me. I guess I got better on the outside, better at holding it in. Maybe this is the best I'll ever get. But I want to get over it. Put it in the past. That didn't seem possible.

So, instead of telling my mom that I started school today, I just grabbed my stuff. She wouldn't really care anyway. We had never been especially close to begin with, and now we just drifted apart even more. Besides, she abandoned me, basically. But I'm Rosalie Hale, and I can take care of myself. I knew I was beautiful and I flaunted it. Rosalie made a game of luring boys in only to break them apart in the end. And if any guy came onto her, she kneed them in the balls. If any guy touched her without her permission, she gave them a black eye and a split lip. She was a cold-hearted bitch who talked the talk and walked the walk. Alright, let's show these kids whose boss. I heard there were four new kids coming today, and I have to show them that I'm the queen bitch around here. Okay. Let's go. Yep, a pep talk is all I needed.