Disclaimer: I do not own them. I just think naughty thoughts about them as I fall asleep.

Edward:
 You pull me, unseen, your words music on my skin. –Ordinary_Girl

I smiled at my screen, feeling slightly foolish. I liked that I was able to affect someone, without the bias and foreknowledge of my wealth, looks and reputation. Ordinary_Girl had no idea what I drove, or how well I fucked, or the amount of money my father made. She was just attracted to my words.

I clicked on her name to go to her page.

She'd added a status flag: IN TRANSIT., and a song, "The Child is Gone", an old bluesy Fiona Apple tune I'd heard a few times but never really listened to; classy and perfect with the evening light streaming through my bedroom windows. She'd added another entry:

For my Mother.

I will fly out of this dry sun
To the dark lush place of my birth
Shadowed and green,
Dark and naïve.
I leave the light to set her free,
To be reborn in a damp forest
Waiting for an awakening
Like hers.

I stared at the screen for a few minutes. "Dark lush place of my birth" certainly had a ring to it; I had a strange mental image of a sexy older woman with a moss covered mound instead of pubic hair. I looked out the window at the damp forest here, with its green shadows in the setting sun and wondered where the not-so-ordinary_ girl was going.

In the comment box, I typed: These dusk woods lay dormant, waiting for a ray of you.

"Hey, Edward." My twin sister bounced into my room, brandishing a bottle of champagne. "Shall we toast to a new year?"

"I'm not exactly looking forward to it, Alice."

"All the more reason, then!"

I sighed, took the bottle away from her, and expertly uncorked the bubbly stuff, with just a whisper of release. I filled our two glasses, and we toasted. I downed mine in a huge swallow and belched rudely. Alice wrinkled her nose at me.

"We need something stronger. And preferably less fizzy," I complained.

"Darling brother of mine, what you need is a girlfriend."

"What the fuck do I need a girlfriend for?"

"Because you're lonely."

I rubbed my hand through my hair. "Why do all the happy people feel like they have to fix the ones who aren't?" I asked without thinking, the frustration in my voice grinding.

She stared back at me, letting my own words echo in the room.

"I have all the girls I need, thanks," I said, my voice sour.

"You think? Jessica Stanley? Ewww, Edward."

"Be nice, Alice. She just got new boobs and wanted to show them off. She needed to be appreciated, and I appreciated her. I got blown, she got bragging rights. No harm, no foul."

"That's sex, twin, not love."

I sighed. "It would make things too complicated, and I don't want any distractions right now." It was my usual excuse.

"It's not an issue for Jazz and me, or Em and Rose."

"But you're involved, Alice! You sing back-up and dance, and play, and…"

"I sing a descant soprano only dogs can hear and occasionally shake my ass with a tambourine." She also played rhythm guitar and was starting to experiment with a harmonica, but she had awful timing, though none of us said it out loud.

"You're our manager and we couldn't exist without you and you know it."

"Don't you forget it, either."

We finished the fizzy stuff in silence. She gathered up the foil and the glasses, but at the doorway she turned back and grinned at me.

"So tomorrow, you'll fall in love at first sight with a gorgeous sexy alto who makes your blood sing."

"At Forks High? Bitch, please."

"I hope she turns your world upside down." She left.

Waiting for an awakening.

I was definitely waiting for something, and it had to happen fast. The band had been growing stale since June, the life sucked out of us with the loss of the album, and we all knew it. Emmett played hella drums, Jasper was our heartbeat on bass, Rosalie a mean lyric guitar, and I sang on keyboards, but we were missing a spark.

Dad was fairly adamant about not letting us sign with a label until we all finished high school. We'd had a few offers and invites, but we all shied away. Deep down, we all wanted to complete our sound before we let some producer tear it apart again in the interest of marketing, but we weren't going to last six more months, much less two years, without some sort of breakthrough to our sound.

I fired up the computer and dragged my fingers over the keys, pressing lines of random letters, moving my fingers to Fur Elise, as if it were my piano.

Bella:
Rain misted the window of my bedroom, but I pulled open the sheer curtains to take in the view of my new antique truck. It wasn't a mirage in the fog; Charlie, my dad, had bought me the most wonderful tank of a vehicle, full of nicks, scrapes and personality, and I still couldn't believe it was mine. He'd turned to stone when I hugged him, but his face had blushed as red as mine.

I deliberated what to wear to school, and then lost my nerve and decided on old comfort over new style. Skinny jeans stuffed into Chuck Taylor High-tops, my favorite White Stripes concert tee and a shapeless hoodie to hide in. A little mascara and a few strokes with a hairbrush, and I was ready to go.

Charlie and I munched our cereal in silence, then he muttered "good luck" and left. We're good that way; no mush.

The trip to school was short, but I took it slowly, still unsure of the behemoth truck's sightlines and afraid to hit anyone, but I drive better than I walk, and got to school safely. I pulled my truck into the loneliest parking spot available, made it to the office without tripping, and successfully navigated my way to my first class.

The staring was bearable, the World Lit class less so. I'd had the same textbook last year as a sophomore in Arizona. At least there was a good required book list; a lot of stuff I hadn't read before. The hour dragged to a close, and the bell finally rang.

"Isabella Swan, right?" A bland looking blond boy in a Seahawks sweatshirt stood before me.

"Just Bella."

"Well, 'Just Bella,' I'm Newton. Mike Newton."

I tried not to giggle as I shook his hand. Bond, James Bond, he wasn't. I secretly wiped the dampness off my hand on my jeans.

"Can I walk you to your next class?"

I nodded, appreciating the help and the small talk on the way, even though the only things he talked about were his own accomplishments. As we walked into the chemistry lab, we were immediately accosted by a girl with an impressive amount of pink eye shadow and a very expensive manicure.

"Hi Mike, who's this? I'm Jessica." She stepped in front of the boy to face me, and rocked on her heels.

"Swan. Bella Swan," I deadpanned.

They both seemed confused.

A little black haired nymph of a girl standing behind them caught my gaze and rolled her eyes at the two of them, then winked. She wore a little black slip dress, black and blue striped stockings, a short little powder blue denim jacket and turquoise ballet flats. If I were to write about her, I would give her wings, in some strange Yeats esoteric rhyme. I smiled back, wishing I had the panache to carry off style like that. I sat down at an empty table, hoping she might sit next to me, but she slid into the seat next to a good-looking blond boy with curls, who only had eyes for her.

Jessica quickly introduced me to Angela, a tall girl with cool funky glasses and instructed her to sit with me. She then sat at the next table and patted a seat for Mike. Angela snorted and shook her head.

"Could she be more obvious?" she asked.

"Well, he does seem rather oblivious."

"Not his fault, really. She's been so hung up on Edward Cullen, Mike might not yet understand that she has moved on to fresh territory."

"Who's Edward Cullen?" I asked.

"You'll see." He tone was loaded, and she smirked at me. "He's Alice's twin brother." She nodded her head towards the pixie girl. I tried to imagine a male version of her and couldn't get past the striped stockings.

"Who is she with?"

"That's Jasper Hale. They live together. They're like step-brother and sister; but they started dating before Dr. Cullen met his mom."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I guess it's not fair to make your daughter dump her boyfriend just because you want to marry his mother," she whispered, grinning.

"One big happy family, huh?"

"The older ones are dating now, too. It's kind of the big Forks romance story, but everyone loves Dr Cullen and his wife. They're pretty high profile here."

I wondered what high profile meant in a town with less than five thousand people. "Alice seems fun," I offered cautiously.

"Well, they mostly keep to themselves, though they throw great parties. Except Edward. He has groupies. With great regularity," she smirked.

"Groupies?"

"Yeah. They're a band. Ever hear of Breaking Dawn?"

The teacher called us to attention. Once again, the Phoenix public school system was far beyond Forks. I wondered if I could test out of my first two classes and take the mornings off. My mind wandered again. Breaking Dawn. I had heard of them. They often got mentioned in the new indie music watch lists; part of the next generation of the Seattle sound. I'd heard a webcast that featured a demo; I remembered that they had great instrumentals and vocals, with a solid lyric rock style with some obvious Led Zeppelin influence. I'd look them up when I could get to my laptop.

When the class ended, Angela turned to me again.

"What's your schedule? I'll get you to your next class, so Jessica won't claw your eyes out when Mike offers."

"Thanks. I've got free study period next, and then Chorus."

"You sing? What part?"

"Anything, really. I guess I'm a mezzo, but I usually sing alto because harmony is more fun."

"No solos?"

"No, never. At least not sober!" A shudder ran through me at the thought, and then I sighed, because I wished that I had the guts. "I can face a crowd as long as I am in another one."

"Safety in numbers?"

I nodded. "Do you sing?"

"Nope, I'm in band."

"Lemme guess. Flute?" All pretty girls played flute.

"Nope, Sax." I grinned at her. Her coolness factor went up several notches. She grinned back, knowing it. "I've free study next too. You're allowed to go to the cafeteria, the library, or if you are in band or chorus, you can go to the music wing. I'll show you."

I followed her out. The eyes in the hallways followed me; I followed my feet, mostly. The music wing was actually another building; Angela pointed out the library as well. The band and chorus rooms were spacious, and she told me to check out the auditorium while she signed up for a practice room. I wandered in the direction she pointed, and found myself emerging from backstage to face six hundred vacant seats. The stage was lit by a single ghost light, the 25 watt bulb naked on the pole. I stepped quietly to center stage, listening to my footsteps echo in the space, and decided to test the acoustics. I raised my hands over my head, allowing one spine popping stretch, and then crooned one of my favorite old Peggy Lee tunes, low and sultry, the way I can when I am alone:

You had plenty of money in nineteen twenty-two,
You let other women make a fool of you.
Why don't you do right, like some other men do.
Get out of here, give me some money, too.

I held the final note, letting it drift in the empty space.

Then I heard a feminine whisper and a low negative reply from the balcony seats, and realized I wasn't alone. My stomach fell to the soles of my high-tops and I stumbled off the stage before the mortifying red flush even made it to my ears. I fled back the way Angela and I came and ran to the library.

The misting rain on my face cooled some of my distress; I was pleased that no-one saw my scramble down the pavement. My breathing had calmed down by the time I walked through the double doors. I found a corner in the back of the non-fiction stacks with a plug for my laptop and pulled my hood over my head, hiding my face. I just need to be left alone. Or I needed to be held and rocked by someone who gave a damn, preferably with a face and a voice, rather than the mysterious stranger who tortured me in my sleep.

I checked my e-mail. There was a note from Renee, the usual good-luck-love-mom stuff, and a comment alert from my blog site.

These dusk woods lay dormant, waiting for a ray of you. -Debussy_88

I snorted, and bit my lip to keep from smiling. Another faceless voiceless stranger, but I was somehow comforted, all the same. I followed the link to his page. Again an untitled post:

Lililggjkjghgaggoi…
Screw this longing for more
To my boredom
This search for a perfect fit,
Why do I have to wait?
My fingers are jazzing on keys,
My tongue is licking a groove,
Where is the final note
That resolves me?
This puzzle needs a last piece
of precious flesh,
So I may be without holes
And rest easy.
aerhagkhlsaahf…
How long must I wait?

I had to grin again, recognizing my own feelings in his words, and also the habit of typing gobbledy-gook on the keys when frustrated. I typed a reply, then typed up the Chemistry assignment from the last class, and wandered through the school library, looking for anything that might catch my interest. When the bell rang, I headed for chorus.

"Where did you go, third period?" Angela asked, catching me in line at lunch. "I couldn't find you!"

"I had to find the bathroom, and then I got lost. I wound up at the library." I lied.

We sat down with Jessica and Mike, and I was introduced to Ben, Lauren, Tyler and a few others.

"Who are they?" I nodded towards a couple walking in the door. They were gorgeous, and both extremely tall. He was broad shouldered with dark hair, and had to be at least 6'7", and she, a haughty blond, wore spike heels and was only a few inches shorter. Alice and her boyfriend from my Chemistry class followed them. She gave me a little wave.

"Rosalie Hale and Emmet Cullen," answered Jessica.

"And there's Edward," said Lauren, sighing.

A beautiful boy lurched through the door, hands in his pockets, casual, but his eyes roved the sea of students, looking for someone. He looked nothing like Alice. He was over six feet tall, had tousled bronze hair and dark brows over a chiseled face, and eyes so green I could see the color from across the room; my breath caught in my throat when his gaze slid past me, then snapped back to my face. I felt exposed, naked, and I dropped my eyes, reddening to my ears.

"Whatever," Jessica said bitterly.

Lauren laughed. "What, you think he'd change his rules for you?"

"Rules?" I asked.

"Edward doesn't date, doesn't take you to prom, or buy you flowers, so all that fucking him gets you is screwed. However, it is rumored to be a very nice process, if that's all you want. Jessica blew him a few times, and then thought they were engaged."

"Shut up, Lauren. All I wanted was a ride to school." Jessica looked like she was about to cry.

"Yeah, and that's girlfriend status. You know better."

I tried to change the subject. "So are they all Breaking Dawn? I've heard one demo tune, they aren't bad."

Jessica recovered. "They're really good live, actually. They do some phenomenal covers."

"Little Ol' Forks has quite the musician base, actually. In fact, we should go see the Quileute Wolves this weekend, at La Push. You'd like them, Bella," said Angela.

"Yeah, if you like crossover country mixed with Inuit tribal! But it doesn't matter what they sound like, because Jacob Black is so very, very, hot," said Lauren.

"Jacob Black? From the Res? I know him," I said. "He's the one Charlie bought my truck from. We used to play together when we were little!"

"Then you will have to introduce me, Bella, because that's another musician I intend to have," declared Lauren.

I caught Angela's eye.

She mouthed, "Groupies."

I was still giggling when the bell rang. Angela walked with me to biology.

Edward:
I left lunch a minute early, to sit alone in for a few seconds before my Biology class started, hoping to settle my nerves. I was so ready to explode my skin was crawling.

Alice and I had free study third period and so we'd slipped off to the balcony of the music auditorium to nip at the flask of bourbon I'd hidden in my backpack, starting the year with a token toast to cliché teenaged rebellion. When the backstage door opened, we'd slid to the floor in the aisle, out of sight so we wouldn't be caught, and we weren't. Instead, we were treated to a concert, sung to an empty room.

Her voice had cut my heart to ribbons, then pasted it back together with honey.

We'd sat there, frozen, Alice with a death grip on my arm, eyes wide, as the refrain melted through the empty space. She was Amy Winehouse with her clothes on, Norah Jones with her clothes off, Stevie Nicks at sixteen; whispery silk and melted sugar, broken, young, and just perfect.

Twin whispered something inane about finding my soul mate, and I told her to fuck off out of habit, but in truth my heart was pounding in my chest. We heard a gasp, and then footsteps running away; all I managed to see was an oversized navy hoodie and long chestnut hair, as her petite form disappeared backstage. We scrambled to chase after her, but by the time we made it down to floor level, she was long gone.

I skipped my next class, not even knowing what it was, and hid in a practice room, pounding out blues melodies on the crappy upright piano until my heart settled into a normal rhythm. At lunch, I scanned the room, looking for the right colored hair paired with a dark-blue shirt. They only possible match was the new girl everyone was babbling about, but she blushed and dropped her eyes when I'd stared, and there was no way someone that self-effacing could have spontaneously sung liquid sex like that.

The bell rang, and the classroom started to fill with students. To have something to do with my tense fists, I checked my e-mail on my iPhone. There was a comment alert:

Fast letters and hard phrases, I am a distant mirror, frustration a deep constant. - Ordinary_Girl

I smiled, and my nerves seemed to ebb. For some reason, I was enjoying this exchange of words. My mental image of her was beginning to take shape; a plain face with light brown hair and a nice smile. Maybe even on the plump side; average, ordinary on the outside, hiding her sensual nature. I wondered how she thought of me. I tilted the device and touched a reply.

The words triggered a song to tumble around in my head, and it occurred to me that I was arranging for the mystery girl's voice, and I could hear her speaking, a breathy alto, ultra feminine and warm with residual laughter, and imagining it made my heart beat faster, and I realized with horror that it was real, she was here, chestnut brown hair and navy hoodie and that incredibly sensuous voice telling the teacher, "I'm Bella Swan," and she was so beautiful and simple and genuine I wanted to cry, or ravage her mouth with mine, or beg her to sing for no-one but me.

Instead I just sat there, gripping the table, not knowing what to do or what to say. The irony of it infuriated me. My name was synonymous with money and style, my reputation with the ladies famous. I was the lead singer in a rock band, and I'd lost my nerve for a shy little girl who wasn't even wearing lipstick. She approached my desk, tripping slightly, and I recoiled. Her wide eyes were clear brown, and I wanted to drown in their sweetness and warmth, but then she frowned a little, and the blush from the lunchroom returned with full force. She looked down, and sat next to me, and I remembered to breathe.

How could she be both the sultry torch singer and this? How could this awkward slip of a girl affect me this way? She wore slim jeans and a baggy shirt that hid every possible curve, no make-up except for that stuff that goes on the eyelashes, which was redundant, because they were so ridiculously long they looked fake, and chapped lips that probably got that way because she bit them nervously, and oh, God, she was biting her lip, pink flesh caught in white teeth.

The air rattled into my lungs, ragged and painful, and she glanced up at my face again, and then away, confused at my stare. She toyed with the neckline of her hood, and then shook her hair to let it fall in a curtain, shielding her face from mine.

Fuck. Her hair smelled divine, like strawberries and girl, and it took all my power to keep my hands fisted at my sides and not shove it away from her face, so that I could see the gorgeous color that stained her cheekbones. I was so turned on that I was almost panting, and I hoped the buttons wouldn't pop off my jeans, my erection was straining that hard.

I jerked my head forward, embarrassed that I was staring. I sat there like that, the whole class, turning over scenarios where I seduced her, where she sang to me, where I said hello. When the bell rang, I jumped and ran.

Alice was right.

She'd turned my world upside down.

Should I keep going?