Disclaimer: The Twilight universe belongs to Stephenie Meyer, I'm just spinning on her Mary-Go-Round.

Beta(s): Athome Jo, Project Team Beta, & MzBionic

Pre-reader: MzBionic & Mandy Pants aka DreamersDaze. Love them girls, hard! :-D

Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent.
-Eleanor Roosevelt

Miss Independent
Miss Self-sufficient
Miss Keep-your-distance

Miss Unafraid
Miss Outta-my-way
Miss Don't-let-a-man-interfere, no

Miss On-her-own
Miss Almost-grown
Miss Never-let-a-man-help-her-off-her-throne

-Miss Independent, By: Kelly Clarkson

Chapter 2:

Miss Independent

-Bella's POV-

I love Phoenix. I love Arizona. I love the dry heat; everything about Phoenix feels like home to me. Whether it's the vastly sprawling city, or the beautiful red rock surrounding it, Arizona is where I call home.

But all of that is about to change. My whole life is about to change.

I drum my fingers against the plush cushion of my oversized faux leather chair as I wait for my laptop to power up. Sitting quietly in the library of our Phoenix home, the warm relaxing breeze floats in through the open windows, causing the white sheer floor-length curtains to dance in the wind like kite ribbons.

Once everything is loaded, I click on my Internet Explorer and Google Forks, Washington, only to be met with a lot of small town nonsense and weather forecast records. I started this endeavor wondering if anything had changed since I'd seen Forks last; much to my dismay, nothing had.

Apparently, it's still the cloudiest place in the continental U.S.

Go figure.

How appropriate. I'm being exiled from my bright, balmy, nurturing home into a place of damp, dark frigidness.

All hope I had for this move quickly flew out the window. After closing out my search engine, I log onto Facebook and peruse my 'feed' for a distraction; anything to take my mind off of my impending banishment to the city of gloom.

I see a link for the FarmVille app game I like to play in my free time. One of my neighbors is offering me 100 free experience points for sharing interest in their farm.

When I click the link, I get the following message:

Sorry, this event for Natasha's stable has expired. Try again next time!

Will nothing go my way today? I sigh begrudgingly and glare holes into the laptop screen.

Suddenly a slightly aged, tan, manicured hand slips onto the top of my screen and pushes it shut. I don't have to turn to see who it is; I'd recognize those digits anywhere, especially that weird looking nail polish.

"What do you want, Renee?" I try to keep the emotion out of my voice, but end up spitting the last part out of spite.

"Bella, I am your mother. You are not to call me by my first name. I will not tell you again," she says firmly.

My eyes roll so hard it's a wonder they still have the ability to stare straight ahead when I look up at her.

"What do you want, Mother?" My tone is harsh again, purposely this time.

"Bella," I can hear her voice softening already. I'm about to get a pep talk. "Honey, Forks isn't that bad. You have a wonderful personality; I know that you'll meet people right away. You just have to step out of your shell. People will love you."

Again, my eyes are rolling. I'm sure by the end of the conversation it will look like I'm mocking the washing machine.

"Forks isn't that bad?" I ask condescendingly. "Then why didn't you stay there?"

I know my words bite, but she doesn't even care that she's shipping me off to live with my dad, just so she can be on the road with Phil. Don't get me wrong - I understand her need to be with him, and I love Phil; I don't even care that she's going. I'm just mad that I'm being shipped off instead of being left alone.

I should be allowed to stay in Phoenix and take care of myself. I did it when they first started dating. She would stay at his place three to four times a week, and I'd be left to fend for myself. Why can't I now? Renee wasn't playing fair and she knew it.

"Bella, baby, you need to calm down. This isn't anything to get worked up over. You know Forks was never in the cards for me. When I met your father, we were very young and naïve. Then we had you and got married. Don't think for one second that I regret having you. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me. But Charlie and I weren't meant to be, and Forks just wasn't where my heart was." She reaches her hand up, gently smoothing my hair back off of my forehead.

"Bella, watching you struggle and fight for your life as a baby taught me to stop taking mine for granted. You've given me strength, Isabella. You're the strongest person I know. That's why I know you'll make the best out of this situation." The tears in her eyes are genuine, and my anger fades to defeat.

"But …" my voice trembles "why can't I just stay here? We're keeping the house. Why can't I just stay and take care of it and finish high school in Phoenix? I'm capable of taking care of myself."

"Oh, I know you are, baby. If I'm being honest, you're more responsible than I am. That was never a question in our decision. The fact of the matter is that if anything happened to you neither Charlie, Phil, nor I would ever forgive ourselves."

I close my eyes, still upset about the lack of control I have over my life.

Suddenly, I feel her press a warm kiss against my forehead, and I sigh.

I'm really going to miss my loving, erratic, hare-brained mother.

One Week Later:

Fuck this morning!

Fuck this day!

Fuck this place!

Fuck school!

Fuck my parents!

That is my mantra this morning. So far, it's working well for me.

I can take care of myself. I don't need to be in this depressing town. I should be living on my own back in Phoenix. I've been taking care of myself just fine so far.

Everyone's so damn worried about me living alone in Phoenix. What exactly is the difference here? Charlie works all of the time anyway! Cut me some slack, parentals!

So I'm short - big fucking deal. I can take care of myself; I don't need the chief hovering around me.

My mind drifts off as I stand under the spray of the hot water.

I am so not a morning person...

I sigh as the water starts getting chilly after only ten minutes in the shower.

Figures.

After I dry myself off, I dress in as many layers as possible. I decide to wear some of my new clothes from Renee, or my (currently non-affectionately known as) mom.

One good thing about having a guilt-ridden mother and a stepfather, who plays pro ball, feeling bad about dumping you off in bum-fuck-Forks - a whole new wardrobe. Well, I guess I'm always getting new clothes, but she went out of her way to make sure I had lots of warm, nice clothes for Forks.

I think she also felt a little bad about not letting me drive here. She probably thought I'd run away and she'd never see me again. I smile to myself. I should have really pushed the issue to drive my car out here.

I miss my car so much.

I look in the floor length mirror and take in my reflection. Overall I look all right. I decide to just pin my bangs back on top of my head. My arms aren't long enough to put my hair in a pony tail, and I no longer have Renee around to French braid it. So it looks like the hair styles will be minimal during the duration of my sentence here in Forks.

They had better get used to being called by their first names, especially Renee, since she's the one who sent me here.

I like Forks about as much as she does, maybe even less.

And I'm upset with Charlie, my dad, because well, he kind of needs to spend a little time earning the dad title. I mean, shit... a check once a month and a call once a week doesn't exactly build a big bonding relationship.

He should have had a son; maybe he would have fought to spend a little more time with him, maybe a son could have been everything he'd always wanted in a child - a fisherman, athletic, patient, tall?

The relationship between my father and I hasn't always been strained, but it has been distant. I used to come up for a month or more every summer to stay with him. But he'd always drag me along on one of his fishing excursions, and I'd end up with a cold for at least three out of the four to six weeks of my stay. He never let it get in the way of his fishing trips.

When I wasn't sick, Charlie made me tag along with him and his friend Billy, which caused Jacob (Billy's son) and I to get into all sorts of mischief. What started off as two kids playing in mud puddles, ended up with us becoming close friends who enjoyed plotting obnoxious pranks on their fathers … and their fishing equipment.

Ah, the good old days. I should call Jake soon and let him know I'm home.

I really should take it easy on my parents. I know they only mean well, but I hate being told what I can and cannot do. Do they even understand how hard it is to fit in at a new school... and to be a freak? I'm just over 3 1/2 feet tall; I cannot blend in anywhere!

Not even Phoenix.

So now, they've decided to subject me to a close-minded small town in the middle of a forest. And there is freaking nothing here! To say I'm a bit peeved with them would be an understatement.

The only person I'm not mad at in this equation is Phil. He's promised monthly care packages and some spending money for gas and car maintenance. Now don't go thinking I'm some pretentious snob. I'm not. Normally, I don't ask for anything. I just know that these next couple of years in Forks will be most likely the two loneliest years of my life. I'm not looking forward to them.

So here I am, making my way downstairs to eat a shitty breakfast and make shitty conversation with Charlie.

Lucky for me, he's going into work late today, so I get a ride to school. Tomorrow, however, I get to walk in the frigid cold.

I can't wait for my car to get here!

Charlie makes me a piece of toast for breakfast, and we head out to his cruiser. Charlie has kept our conversation to a bare minimum, and for that I'm thankful. He offers to ask Jake to give me a ride to school until my car is out here, but I tell him no, and I assure him that I don't mind walking.

Which is a lie. I am absolutely dreading the walk home from school, because I know I'm going to be tired as shit by the end of the day. But Jake doesn't even go to the same school as me. He goes to school up on the reservation, which is about a fifteen minute drive one way every morning. It's completely out of his way - not cool, not fair for him, and embarrassing for me. He finally quits asking when I insist I'm okay.

I'm sure I'll be singing a different tune when I'm walking home from school by myself today, but that's then. Right now, I'll soak up the embarrassment of riding to school in the police cruiser, and use the full potential of the heater.

When we reach school, my hands are still frozen. I'm thankful for all of the layers I'm wearing. Charlie asks if I want him to walk me in. I politely decline, grab my bag, and head inside. I stop in the main office and grab my "new kid" sheet, class schedule, and locker information.

After walking the halls a few times, I locate my locker. It's right next to the commons and music department. This location isn't so bad for mornings, but it is going to suck in between classes. The administration probably thought they were doing me a favor. In Phoenix I had two lockers, one upstairs and one downstairs. It made it a lot easier on me. This school isn't nearly as big though; I'm sure I'll survive just fine.

Upon arriving at my locker, I shed my bag and just take out my sketchbook, a notebook, and a few writing utensils. I lock my locker and look at my schedule. It looks like this school has already fucked up; they've put me in Algebra 1 instead of Algebra 3. I was in Calculus in Phoenix, but there was only so much available to me this late in the year here.

All of the AP classes were full, and I'm not a huge math fan anyway. But that doesn't mean I want to totally dick around here. I am not going to sit in Algebra 1 with a bunch of freshman.

Oh hell, no. I can deal with a lot of different types of shit, but that is not one of them.

I decide against doing anything about my class dilemma until second period. English is my first class; Math isn't until second period, so I'll take care of it then. I make my way to English and sit in the back. To my relief, my teacher doesn't make a big deal about my presence. After class, I have my teacher sign my sheet, and I slip out of the room. Random kids stare at me on and off, but thankfully, no one makes any snide comments.

Maybe Forks won't be so bad after all.

I make my way to the main office in between class periods. The secretary, Mrs. Cope, informs me that I'll need to schedule a meeting with a guidance counselor after school, as they're in charge of all scheduling complaints. She offers to let me stay in the office with her for the duration of the class hour, so I sit down in the waiting area and pull out my sketch book.

After a few minutes of awkward small talk, involving her Spanish Inquisition ranging from "how I'm liking the weather" to "if I've made any new friends yet", I politely remind her I've only been in Forks for a couple of days, and I haven't even unpacked yet.

Eventually, she gets bored or uncomfortable with the silence, and goes back to doing whatever she was doing before I came in.

I page through my sketches and start to color in one I've been working on for a few months. I use oil pastel and I smear each color and shade perfectly for the most realistic look I can achieve. Once it's completed, I stare down into the eyes that are looking up at me.

I've seen these golden eyes before, in my dreams. I've seen them more than once. I dream of this person often, and even though all of my dreams aren't the same - he is always searching for something. Every time I think he - whomever he is, is about to find whatever it is that he's looking for, it slips further and further away from him. Often making him look sad and broken, sometimes even a little fierce or feral, like a caged animal that hasn't been fed in months.

I'm never afraid of him, I always want to help him find what he's looking for, but it's like he can't see me. Always looking past me, and my voice falls on deaf ears. No matter how hard I try, it's useless. Every situation is different, but it always ends the same. He walks away from me, utterly defeated and alone.

I'm startled out of my thoughts by the bell ringing.

I thank Mrs. Cope and rush off to wash the color off my hands in the bathroom. Due to the fact that the school is such an old building, I can't reach the sinks. I can barely see over the countertop. Even more humiliating, the school has put a step stool off to the side of the sinks for me. I know they're only trying to make things easier for me, but I'd rather carry around hand sanitizer than have them purchase a step stool for me.

After making sure no one else is in the bathroom, I slide the step stool over to one of the sinks and start to wash my hands. When I'm just starting to dry my hands off, a group of girls comes in. They stop in their tracks when they see me. Two of them laugh to each other, and the others just do their business and ignore me.

My face is colored from embarrassment when I exit the restroom; I make a quick stop at my locker and head to my next class. I figured there'd be a few snobby people here, but I didn't think they'd out right laugh in my face about my short stature. I mean, little kids make a big deal about it in stores and stuff, but they're young and don't know any better. These girls are in high school; have we not all grown past this?

Apparently, they don't teach kids to play nice in Forks Elementary. That's okay, because if they really want to play dirty, I can do that too. I may be short, but there is nothing small about my temper, or sense of humor for that matter.

No big deal.

Dynamite comes in small packages, bitches!

Fourth Period- Art:
Bella POV:

A girl named Jessica Stanley is going to get cunt-punched before I graduate Forks High.

I guarantee it.

My Current Events class passes by without any further incident. Advanced Mixed Media or ART class does not show me the same good fortune. Some dumb fucker decided to turn on the kiln instead of waiting until after school was over, and now the art room is smoldering. I slip my sweat shirt off only to be ridiculed about my choice in color by some ugly ass, greasy, pizza-faced bitch with shit-brown poodle hair.

God, I'd love to cut that bitch...

I shake off her remark and snap back at her with an equally biting comment. Afterwards, she backs off. I pray that this is the last of the trouble I have with her, but I doubt it will be. She just looks like a bitch.

By the time lunch period rolls around, I still haven't really met anyone worth spending any time with. I grab a bottle of water and snag an abandoned table in the corner of the cafeteria/commons area. Thankfully, it's far away from Jessica Stanley's table, and no one seems to mess with me. I continue to shade in my sketch of my dream guy, and move on to work on a few shadings on other pages.

As I sit there and make lines and marks with my charcoal pencil, I come to the realization that this place really isn't much different from Phoenix.

Just a little lonelier.

I did have friends in Phoenix, but it wasn't a set group. I hung out with a lot of different people. I wasn't really outwardly judged. I think a lot of that had to do with the fact that I grew up there, and the larger population. A lot of the students knew people of short stature, and there were others in my school with different types of short stature or some type of a physical disability.

I was just another face in the crowd. And I loved it. While most people would kill for popularity, and to be well known by everyone, I just want to be another nobody. I don't always want to be known as the little girl, or Charlie Swan's daughter.

In Phoenix, no one knew my dad was a cop, but they wouldn't have cared either way. And no one pointed out what everyone here seems to love to stare at.

In Phoenix I was just another student.

I miss that most.

I can feel my eyes start to sting with unshed tears. I slip on my reading glasses and glance sideways out a large window. Everything is so green, so alien from what I'm used to. It makes me miss the brown sand, red rock, and yellow sun. The only greens I want around me are my cacti. And even they can't live in this dingy, musty climate.

I yearn for Phoenix.

I had a few semi-close friends there, but not anyone that I couldn't part with. I really don't like to get attached to a lot of people. I guess I'm like my dad in that way. I really hate needing someone. I hate asking for help, and I don't think people should have to change up their routine just to accommodate me. It doesn't seem fair to them.

I chew on my lip and continue to waste my lunch period feeling sorry for myself. Music brings me great comfort and the control I crave. I hit shuffle, and if I come to a song I don't like, I skip it. My iPod doesn't point and laugh at me. It doesn't judge. The worst thing it could do to me is let the battery run low. I always know it'll power back up once it's charged. It's one of the most reliable parts of my everyday life.

After lunch I stop at my locker. Then I make my way to Biology; the classroom is on the other end of the school. I'm tired as shit and dreading the walk home tonight.

When I enter the classroom, my teacher, Mr. Banner, signs my sheet and escorts me back to my lab table. He looks super uncomfortable about my height versus the lab table height, and I snicker internally. We had lab tables like this back in Phoenix; it really wasn't a big deal.

After I have him set my things on the countertop, I approach the back of the stool and swiftly climb up on top of it. I'm a little embarrassed that my lab partner is already seated, and I'm drawing so much attention. But there really is no avoiding it.

This poor kid will just have to stick it out until we're assigned other seats or we complete this class.

I decide to ignore whoever the hell is next to me until I absolutely have to acknowledge him. Much to my dismay, we're informed that we'll be partnering up for a lab today.

Awesome... good times...

I sigh and reach for my notebook and pull a pen out of my pocket as I flip my text book open.

Just as I look up, Mr. Banner walks over to hand us our lab worksheet. He places the worksheet on the table and tries to subtly slide the paper in my lab partner's direction.

Does he think I'm mentally handicapped or something?

I just want to scream at everyone, 'I do not have a cognitive disability, you fuckers!' but of course I don't and just decide to give him the stink eye.

After Mr. Banner is away from our lab table, I finally look up at my lab partner. I'm shocked at what I see. He's beautiful. Not in a girly crush way, but in a devastatingly handsome, yet brooding way. Another thing that shakes me to my core is that he looks almost identical to my drawing of the boy from my dreams. Except the person sitting before me has grass green eyes and much more color to his skin. He's not tan by any means, but he's not the pale-skinned, shimmering person from my drawing either.

I snap out of our little staring contest quickly and avert my eyes from his gaze. I notice behind him on a side table is some kind of stuffed bird with feathers. See, this would be normal to find in a biology class, but what makes this hilarious is the way my lab partner is positioned on his stool. The exact placement of the bird makes it look like my partner has wings. I can't help but smile at the silliness of it all before quickly looking away.

When I look back up, my lab partner is clearly staring at me, and it kind of pisses me off. Not only does it make me uncomfortable, but it's just rude. Doesn't this pretty boy have any manners? He's probably never seen a little person before. I roll my eyes and start tapping my foot against the stool in a very annoyed manner.

He clears his throat and turns back to face the table. I can tell I've flustered him, and it makes me smile a little on the inside. Finally, when he doesn't say anything, I start tapping my pen against the table and give him a bit of the stink eye.

"So, are we going to do this thing or what?" I motion to the worksheet and look up at him. I'm getting impatient, and I want to get this done as quickly as possible.

"Uh, yeah." He clears his throat and attempts a crappy introduction. "Sorry, uhm, I'm Edward, Edward Cullen." Okay? His formality takes me by surprise, and the way he mentions his last name is almost pompous.

Is that name supposed to mean something to me, because it doesn't, Dude. I'm the new girl, remember?

I also see his chest puff out when he says his last name. It's almost like he's trying to speak with authority, but I'm not the least bit impressed. He's stuttering and stammering his way through his sentence; like a damn fool.

Hmm, for being so pretty, you sure aren't too bright, are ya? Looks like I'm going it alone in this class.

"I guess we'll be lab partners for the year," he says with contempt.

Ouch. Pretty Boy is an ice king. Don't sound so thrilled about being my lab partner or anything. Don't worry; I'm not all that excited about carrying your stupid ass through Biology either, Dickhead.

I sigh and nod at him. "I'm Bella, nice to meet you." I better attempt to play nice if we're really stuck with each other for the duration of the year. By the looks of everyone else in this room, he's probably a decent choice. Everyone in here looks like a damn scarecrow. All, if I only had a brain.

I look down at the worksheet in front of him with disdain. I just want to get this fucking class over with, and he's moseying around the work like a bonehead. Finally I say to hell with him and reach over, snatching the worksheet right out of his hand. I start working on it immediately.

No more beating around the bush.

"Uhm..." he stammers.

I smirk at his illiteracy.

"Uh, Bella?"

Ugh, what do you want, Pretty Boy; don't you see I'm working here?

"Hmm?" I ask, only paying half attention to him.

"We're supposed to use the microscope for this lab... to uh... identify the different types of cells..."

Okay, listening to this fucker is seriously giving me a brain freeze headache. He's obviously extremely uncomfortable around me, which is good; it gives me the upper hand in our partnership and lets him know that I will not be walked on. The fact that I'm short doesn't mean I can't hold my own.

Like I said before, dynamite comes in small packages, bitches!

"Look, Edward, is it?" I almost called him Pretty Boy. I'll need to be more careful about that.

I don't wait for him to answer. "I've already taken this same exact class in Arizona. I know what I'm doing. Feel free to check my work when I'm done. I'm not slow and I don't expect you to carry me through this class. You look through the microscope, and I'll write. I just want to get this done and over with. No need for small talk."

I motion for him to get to work on the 'scope, and I pick up where I left off on our worksheet. I hear him get all huffy like a little girl, and he snatches the microscope with such force that it makes this atrocious scraping and screeching noise as he yanks it closer to him.

On the inside, I'm laughing my ass off. I didn't mean to offend him, and I'm just trying to get shit done. On the outside, I keep my demeanor calm and act as if he didn't just react like a total sissy bitch. I just keep working on our worksheet.

Apparently, Pretty Boy is not happy with me, because he startles me by slamming his hand down on the table between us. I jump slightly and then just go back to my work, hoping that was all of his little fit, and praying he isn't going to make a scene. It's too early for a lovers' quarrel, Pretty Boy.

I see his body angle towards mine. Oh boy, this should be good.

"Excuse me, but what the fuck is your problem?" he asks indignantly.

I sigh, setting down my pen I turn to make eye contact with him, so he'll know I'm telling the truth.

"Listen Edward, I'm not trying to be a bitch. I just want to get this over with. I don't want a pity party; I just want to get through the next two years and get out of here. I'm sick of being treated like I have the fucking plague. I'm doing everything I can to not be stomped on in the hallways; my locker is on the other end of the school. I'm fucking tired, and I hate it here. It's cold, wet, and close-minded. So please, for the love of whatever it is you worship, can we just get this assignment done and stop talking? I'm sure you're a really nice guy. But I'm not here to make friends ..."

That statement was quite an oversight. I didn't actually mean to imply that he was trying to get to know me. "Not that I think you're interested in speaking to me outside of this classroom, but still. I'm here, serving my sentence; I'd like to do it on clear terms. Comprende?"

When I finish my speech, I don't even wait for his response. I finish the worksheet with my face aflame and my mouth closed. I didn't mean to tell him so much. He just got me all flustered, and I was trying to get him to understand that it wasn't a personal vendetta against him. I'm just really not happy right now.

After about five minutes of him staring at me, I have to break the ice. He looks like a fish out of water, and I need to make sure Pretty Boy is still responsive.

"Keep staring. I might do a trick."

He turns back around sharply and starts double checking my answers as he looks through the microscope. It kind of makes me want to stab him, but I guess I deserve it for being such a bitch to him. Just when I'm starting to effectively ignore him, he quits.

When I finish the lab worksheet, I slide it over to him - as a peace offering. I can tell he's impressed, and I decide to get out of here before he can thank me or stutter some more.

I decide the best way to get down would be to jump off of the stool onto my books, so I toss them to the floor and hop down on them, landing on my feet.

I step off of them and pick them up quickly. People are staring, but I'm beyond caring at this point. They're going to look no matter what I do.

Eventually, they'll either get used to me, or just continue to stare. I'll deal with it. I always do.

When I look up, Edward is staring at me, which irritates me.

"What?"

He just shakes his head and mumbles, "Nothing."

I don't bother with farewells as I walk out of the class. He's being rude anyway.

Next stop: Chamber Singers.

Authors Note: Thank you to everyone who is reading this story! I'm sorry posting has been slow since the first chapter, I was torn between making this one a super duper huge chapter or making it like this. Obviously, shorter won out - but that just means that chapter 3 is already finished - and will be posted in a week or so!

Thanks for reading. Reviews = Love.

-Missy