Ice Moon Chapter 2, a twilight fanfic

Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all it's affiliates, minus any unrecognizable characters you are about to be introduced to. Those are mine. And they're going to stay mine so I can at least say I own something! :)
Chapter One – First Sight

My father drove me to the airport with the windows rolled up. It was snowy day in Juneau; the sky was clear, cloudless, and blue. I was wearing my favourite outfit – a dark blue v-neck with , black jeans, and my black boots. Aurora and I had picked it out the day before. I zipped up the jacket my father brought me because it was getting colder by the minute.
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the good ol' US of A. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my godmother lived. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to start new since my mother's death four years ago. That was the year my whole life changed. Now I was leaving behind my father and sister in Alaska. He was very calm about the whole situation and understood why I wanted to move because of the horrible memories. He understood why I couldn't stay in Alaska any more and move in with my godmother, Lucy Hayden.
But it was now to Forks that I was dooming myself – an action that I took with gritted teeth. I detested Forks in the same way that I loved Alaska. And I did love it here– the snow, the wildlife, the mountains, my family, my life.
" Promise, " My father said to me quietly, as he handed me my carry-on. " You don't have to do this."
" I know, but I need to." I whispered, to him as I turned to my little sister.
My mother's death had made our family closer. It left me with the responsibility to take of my sister. Aurora was a tweleve year old girl with an intelligent mind. She loved to paint and draw just like me, and meant much to me as I did to her. She idolized me in a way that could possible, and had to grow up quickly at a young age.
I kissed my father on the cheek – much to his dismay – before turning to Aroura. Aroura and I best friends and sisters. This was the hardest thing to do- tell her goodbye. She was everything to me and I would miss her alot.
" Don't forget to call me and never forget that I love you."
" I love you too." She stared back at me with those clear blue eyes of hers. I knew that this was just as hard for her.
"We'll see you soon. Maybe over the summer?" She smiled wryly. We both knew it wouldn't happen. "You can come back whenever you feel ready."
I bit my lip, out of emotion. I had nothing more to say to her and she knew that I would not be coming ba I bit my lip, not out of emotion, but so I wouldn't bite my tongue. I had nothing more to say to her and she knew that I would not be coming back any time soon. And I would burst into tears any second now.
"Bye, Dad. We'll talk."
"You'll get homesick eventually." He reprimanded light-heartedly. It was hidden in a joke but the slight threat was sincere. I looked to Aroura who was fighting not to roll her eyes. I smiled at her.
"I'll miss you, blue eyes." I said to Aroura. She smiled, but I was shocked to see her holding back tears. It was so unlike her. And because of those tears, it made the realism of it hit me like a brick. Tears fought their way into my vision as well.
"I'll miss you too snow girl." We held each other for a moment, trying not to let go and not to let go of the tears in our eyes before I pulled us apart.
"I'm going to miss my plane." I explained, as I used my sleeve to wipe my cheek. I had lost the battle. She sniffled.
I took one last look at them dashed into the corridor to get to my plane. This shouldn't be so hard, I was the one who had made this decision; but it was hard. It was very hard. It's one thing to go visit Lucy for a few weeks in the summer; it's another thing entirely when I'm living with her.
I kept to my thoughts and my black art book during the six hour journey; this included two flights and an hour drive. I didn't want to seem rude to Lucy so on the fifth hour when she came to pick me up from Port Angeles – the closest city, from what I remembered – I put my book away planned to be attentive.
Lucy had been fairly nice about the whole thing. She was like a second mother to me. Aftery mother died she helped my family and I through alot; and looked after us. She was excited that I decided to come and live with her. She'd already gotten me ready for school and had gotten me a brand new car – though that one always made me antsy. She always got me exspensive gifts, which I appreciated.
It was weird riding in the front seat of a police cruiser – not that I'd been in the back of one. My godmother is Police Chief Lucy Hayden of Forks, Washington. I was excited to get the car, so that I wouldn't have to worry about getting to school in a police car.
She gave me a huge hug when I stumbled off the plane; exhausted.
"Good to see you, Proms, " she smiled at me. I smiled back at her warmly.
"You haven't changed much. How's Aurora and Rob?" I'm sure that she noticed my face twitch.
They're both fine. It's good to see you, too Luce."
I had quite a few bags. If I was living here, I wasn't going to be uncomfortable. I brought alot of my draeings, probably far too many pictures, and things I was sure I couldn't live without. Not to mention things that even though I was living without my normal life for the year, I knew I would be able to use in solitude. Luckily, even in Alaska it was always cold so my clothes would transfer well to the change in climate. She helped me load everything into the trunk and back seats before she decided to speak again.
"I found a good, new car for you, really cheap, " she announced as I strapped myself in. My eyes widened as I suspiciously waited for more information... "Well, it's a Mustang."
I grinned, but I was still suspicious. One of the things my godmother and I had in common was our love for cars. I was one of the only girls I knew who understood cars. Lucy herself had a Black Mercedes that she drove around with.
"Where did you find it?"
" I found it in Seattle at a car sale."
What colour is it?" I was curious and excited at the same time.
"It's grey." I grinned at her because she knew that grey was one of my favorite colors.
How cheap is cheap?" I sighed, wondering if I should just help put the money out since it was so expensive. She suddenly looked sheepish.
"Well, sweetie, " the word sounded comforting. "I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Her expression was hopeful as she looked at me.
" Thanks. I really appreciate it." I wanted to be happy here, too. But something told me an new cheap, car wasn't all it was going to take.
"Well, now, you're welcome." she mumbled. We exchanged a few comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. I pretended to be tired from jet lag and luckily, she didn't mention anything about my mother.
Forks was beautiful. There was no denying it, even if I was far from proper civilization. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered in ferns.
Eventually we made it to Lucy's house. She still lived in the four bedroom house that she bought right after mom died. It was a very homey house and something I could see living in for the next...however long.
It was a grey 2003 Ford Mustang. The headlights had been changed a bit to make them look new. The seats were leather and had that new car scent. The tires were perfect; and it had a built in radio. My godmother knew me well, it was perfect.
" Holy shit!" I exclaimed. "I love it!"
"Hey, now." Lucy frowned. "Don't be thinking you can get away with cursing."
I smiled, looking back at my car and running my hand over my polished hood. This would certainly make my day better. I knew people would stare but I really didn't care. I liked the fact I had something to ride to school into. Something with character. Something with history and a story and a badass personality.
"It really is great." I assured when I saw her looking at it sceptically.
I'm glad you like it, " Lucy said, as she hugged me.
She then helped me take my things upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the side of the house; that had you could see the forest from. Maybe one day when I was bored enough I'd figure out what type of trees it was. I knew the room well; from the dark blue colored walls, wooden floor, the peaked ceiling, the black lace curtains around the window – those were all things I remembered. The newer parts – a new desk and a bigger bed covered in a teal bedspread. On the desk was a mini laptop - which surprised me, and a phone that was connected to the wall. My mother's rocking chair, which had become my favourite piece of furniture as I grew, still sat in the corner.
Strangely, it felt very much like home.
One of the best things about Lucy is she doesn't hover. She left me to unpack and go through memory lane as I brought out all the pictures and made the room more suited for a seventeen year old. I realized how quiet and alone I was. No blaring music blaring from Aurora's room, and no Tv blaring. It was nice to be alone, to not have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to cry.
I viciously wiped the tears off of my cheeks, trying to get a hold of Lovell does not cry, I tried to say over and over. But at the same time I would always add a yet to the end of it. I already had the gnawing feeling of dread deep in the pit of my stomach. Forks High School only had three hundred and fifty-seven – now fifty-eight – students; my last school, though almost as small still had just under the same amount in what would have been my graduating class. All of these kids had grown up together – their grandparents had been toddlers together. And tomorrow I would be the new girl from the a snow city, a curiosity and a freak.
I wasn't like all of these small town kids. I liked my inexpensive yet higher fashion styled wardrobe, I had my tom boy qualities, and but could be girly when I wanted to. I had black hair that stopped in the middle of my back; I was pale and my eyes were a strange- freakishly grey-blue eyes.
I really took after my Mom. I had her darker hair, her slim nose, her slender French frame, but I had my father's sharp cheekbones and his strange eyes. Not that my mother's eyes looked much different, you could just tell that they were his.
When I was finally finished packing I took a quick shower in the second bathroom in the house. I was used to sharing a bathroom with Aroura who was basically attached to my hip – something told me I could manage. Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I had never fit in.
I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even Aroura, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never quite on the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.
I didn't sleep well that night; It was the constant whooshing of the rain that eventually what did me in – usually I listen to the sounds of rain or thunderstorms on my iPod to pass out, anyway. Maybe I'd get more sleep living here? I wonder if that comfort was something subconsciously related to my memories here.
Breakfast with Lucy was fairly quiet. She wished me good luck at school and I thank her, knowing her luck was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Like the plague. I quickly asked her what she knew about my courses and she told me that the school had called her to apologize for the lack of English Immersion or Advanced English courses.
Lucy left first, off to the police station that was her wife and family. After she left, I sat at the old, square, oak table in one of the three mix-matching chairs and examined her fair-sized small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, dark brown cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing had changed. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining s family room was a row of pictures. First was a picture of my mother, Aurora, and I before the accident, a picture of my dad and mom in Los Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, then a picture of my family in the hospital after Aurora had been born. I was holding her. It was strange – it was like I was going back in happier times. After that followed the procession of school pictures every year up to last. These were the worst to look at – I would have to see what I could do about getting her to move them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. I doubted I would make friends close enough to come over to hang outside of class, but I didn't want to take the chance.
It was impossible to ignore that my godmother was still grieving over my Mom - who was her best friend. . It was almost suffocating to be in the house with all the tension of these pictures and it made me so uncomfortable that I decided to leave.
I didn't want to be too early for school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my black and grey jacket and headed out into the constant drizzle.
Inside the car, it was nice and dry; Lucy had cleaned it up. The seats smelled like peppermint. It was a strangely comforting smell, even if it did remind me of candy canes. The engine started quickly, to my relief, had a quiet humming sound. Well, a car this new was bound to have a nice sound. The radio worked geat, a plus that I hadn't expected.
Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I had never been there. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it so, made it evident. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon coloured bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs that off the high way I couldn't see its size.
I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked in this area, so I was sure that it wasn't for students, but I decided that I would get directions inside instead of circling around like an idiot – my new car would get me enough attention as it is.
stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door, taking bets with myself over what I was going to see. What I saw – and let me win a bet with one side of my brain verses the other – was brightly lit and warm. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, like there wasn't enough of it lining the exterior of the school itself. The room as cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly coloured flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed – something that oddly didn't comfort or discomfort me.
She looked up at me with confused eyes. "Can I help you?"
"I'm Promise Lovell, " I explained and saw the immediate recognition in her eyes. I was expected, probably a gossip target. Daughter of the Chief's dead best friend, moves into town. I set my chin, trying to make it look a little strong.
"Of course, " she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pike of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.
She went through each of my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map. She gave me a slip for each teacher that I had to have them sign and bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Lucy, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.
When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I could feel people staring at my mustang, unlike most of these; nothing flashy. At home it had been a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was either a shiny, silver Volvo. It was an S60R, probably a 2003. Or my 2003 Ford mustang. I was so embarassed at the people staring.
I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now so that I wouldn't have my nose stuffed in papers as I walked around. I pushed everything into my sling black bag, and took a deep breath.
You can do this, I assured half heartedly.
I kept my face pulled back in my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My jacket did end up standing out, but it's not like I wasn't expecting stares. I was relieved I had thought to wear a sweater with hood.
When I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. There was a large three painted in white on the side. I felt my breathing gradually creep toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two people through the door. I was greeted with a small classroom; the people in front of me were hanging their coats up on a row of hooks that I hadn't seen since I could remember. I copied them, glad that my clothes were strangely colourless today.
I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name – not an encouraging response – and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me way in the back, but somehow they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Brontë, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner...I'd read that all two years back. I wonder if my dad would send me my folder of old essays, or if he would consider that cheating. Most likely he would consider it cheating.
When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, an awkward and gangly Asian boy–there hadn't been many at my old school–leaned across the aisle to talk to me.
"You're Promise Lovell, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.
"Yeah I am, " I said. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. I tried not to glare at them for their intrusion but realized they probably couldn't help it. I must be the first fresh meat in decades.

"Where's your next class?"

I had to check my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building...six." I couldn't look anywhere without catching someone's eyes so I looked down at my paper, trying to memorize the rest of my classes so that I wouldn't have to do this ever again.

"I'm headed for building four, I could show you the way..." Definitely the over-helpful type. "I'm Eric, " he added.

"Thanks." I smiled wryly. We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking so close just so they could eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't being paranoid, but by the way people kept stepping on my heels, it was making it hard to shoot down the thought.
"So, this is a lot different than Jeneau, huh?" he asked. Something told me that would be the start of all conversations.
"Not really. I mean it rains and snows there alot." It made him smile and somewhat relax, which made me feel better about it.
"Well, good, " he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful. I smiled at him with a nod, hoping I wasn't leading him on or anything, but a friend would be nice.
The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trig teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of what he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class to introduce myself. I rambled, blushed, tripped on my way up
After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic but mostly I just ended up avoiding the subjects. It wasn't that I didn't like Forks – I just didn't like change. They seemed to accept the avoidance and walk me to classes so I never had to memorize my map.
One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the caf for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than me at five foot six, but her wildly, curly hair made up a lot of the difference. I couldn't remember her name so I was the one who just smiled and nodded, only answering the questions directed towards my French, which I answered in French, so that she couldn't understand me and I could avoid using her name anyway. After that she ended up prattling on about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up. She was more of an annoyance than a friend.
We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, each who was introduced to me like a kindergartener. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them, just because I was so annoyed with her tone. They seemed impressed by her bravery to speak to me – which made me suspicious that her motives hadn't been all that chivalrous. The boy from English – Eric? – waved at me from across the room.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.
They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. None of them were talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. Maybe I couldn't stop staring at them because they seemed to be the only students that weren't gawking at me. It was good because I was free to stare at them without meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was one of them which caught, and held, my attention.
They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big – muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blonde. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-coloured hair. He was more boyish than the others who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The long, golden-haired one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure – the kind you saw on Sports Illustrated bikini covers, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self esteem just by being in the same room – I was feeling it now. I knew I was thin, but it wasn't a nice thin like her. I knew I was a bit busty and well curved, but I was flabby in comparison to her. It really did start to hurt the more I looked at her. So I looked over to the other girl who was pixie like, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.
While these differences separated the group of them, they were all somehow alike. Everyone one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. They all had dark eyes despite their range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those dark eyes – purplish, bruise like shadows that somehow didn't take away from their beauty. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, and angular.

But again, this was not why I couldn't look away.

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful – maybe the blond girl or the bronze haired boy?

They were all looking away – thank God, or they would have seen me ogling – from each other and students. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray – unopened soda, unbitten apple – and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed by her lithe dancer's step – I hadn't even seen things like that in my school. Nothing that flawlessly natural. She dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have though possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who didn't budge.
"Who are they?" I asked the annoying girl from my Spanish class.

As she looked up to see who I meant – though already knowing, probably, from my tone – suddenly he looked at her, the thinner, boyish one. Maybe he was the youngest. He looked at my neighbour for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered over to mine.
She giggled in embarrassment, looking down and away from them like I had. "That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen, they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.

The beautiful boy – by far the most attractive of the males – was now picking a bagel to pieces with his long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three weren't looking at him but somehow, I could just tell he was talking to them, though I had no idea what he could be saying that they would be able to comprehend at that speed.
" Why did you say there names like that?" I asked her, as I bit into my apple. It was like she was telling a dirty secret or something.
She shrugged. "They are all together though – Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held the judgement that only a small town girl could have, I thought critically. But I could understand why it would have caused gossip.
Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related..."

"Oh, they're not." She clarified. "Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties or something. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins – the blondes – and they're foster children."

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."

"That's sweet," according to the look she gave me, I had just sprouted several more heads. "I mean, it's sweet for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so, " Jessica agreed reluctantly and I could tell that she was still holding on to her critical views of what she thought a family should be. Like I said she sounded mean.
"I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have kids, though, " she added as if that made it all make sense. I turned towards her with a blank face, hiding my disgust. Something told me that this Jessica girl and I would be butting heads often.

"That makes it all the more compassionate." I said in a monotone, trying not to show my frustration.

"Yeah, more like desperate."

More like kinder than you've ever seen in your narrow minded little world, I wanted to his back. But Aurora had told me to play nice and not talk back yet. I would hold my promise, since that was my name.

"Compassion can bring on things that people without it will never understand." I bit back. It was still a downright insult, but I had hoped that she would see past it by asking a sooner question. "Have they always lived in Forks?" I tried to remember through my memories if I had ever seen walking angels in this town – sadly, I had none that I could remember.
No, " She said bluntly. I wondered if she thought I was stupid or even asking. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska, just like you."My eyes widened in disbelief. They were from that same place I came from! I never heard of them or anything. Weird.
"What?!" I whispered. " Strange."
As I watched them, more creepily than inconspicuously, the youngest one of the Cullen's turned and met my stare. This time his expression was dripping with curiosity, which made my blush and quickly look away. I didn't like that flicker of unmet expectation from him. Like that blonde one hadn't knocked my insecurities enough...

"Which is the one with the reddish brown hair?" I asked, rubbing my neck with the sole intention of throwing my hair over my face. I peeked through the curtain I'd created and saw him still staring, but not gawking like the other students had today – he still wore that same odd expression that again made me look down in some unrecognizable form of shame.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed – ah. It was pretty clear what that meant and I briefly wondered how long ago it had been that he had rejected her.
I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling at the thought. Glancing at him again, basic instinct it felt like, I saw that his lips were tight, too. Almost like he was holding back a smile, himself. After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. Each was shockingly graceful in an unnerving way. The one named Edward didn't look my way again.
I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends a little longer than I would have normally, but my first day jitters got the best of me and I was completely paranoid of being late for my first day of class. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela – I liked her already – had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence, which was nice. She realized that even though I wasn't as shy as her, I was still awkward.
I walked to introduce myself to the teacher, named Mr. Banner, who was an energetic, middle-aged man that wasted no nonsense on introductions. As I reached towards him to exchange the slip that needed to be signed for the textbook he had assigned me, I saw Edward go rigid in my peripheral vision. It drew my eyes to him, now he was staring again. The look on his face was so shocking that as I walked towards him, I suddenly couldn't move anymore. There was so much hostility, so much hate. It made my blood run cold.

I almost fell into my seat, thanks to the girl who left her books right in the aisle. She giggled and I glared at her, raising my eyebrows in challenge. She stopped immediately and turned back to face Mr. Banner. I smiled towards Edward, hoping the scene had lightened his spirits, but was shocked to see that he was just ass furious as he had been. But I couldn't look away – his eyes were coal black. Like a starless night or a bottomless ocean.

I swallowed and hid behind my curtain of hair once more. I heard his posture change and with a glance through my hair, I could see that his posture had changed. He was now leaning as far from me as possible, his hand balled into fists, face towards the windows and were his – yes, his eyes were squeezed shut.

Inconspicuously I smelled myself. My hair smelled like vanilla and I could still smell the lingering scent of my spiced vanilla body wash and spring fresh antiperspirant. I had a strange obsession with how I smelt and my favourite smell was vanilla, so I always tended to pulsate it.

Unfortunately, the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I had never studied. I delved into my notes, making them far more detailed than I normally would have – any other time I would have referenced my textbook later – but I couldn't bring myself to look past my curtain of hair to the boy I could still feel glaring at me. And yeah, I didn't think it was actually possible outside of a book to think you can feel someone's eyes on you, but there was so much hate behind it, how could I not?

The one time I did dare to peek at him, I took in everything as quickly as possible and was horrified by the result. He had not taken his eyes off me, he had not relaxed, and his hands were clenched into tendoned fists that were so vicious I couldn't understand how I had ever thought him slight, even beside his burly brother.

Needless to say, this class lasted for far too long. I was antsy the entire time and I couldn't stop squirming under his scrutiny – it was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life and yet nothing was actually happening. He was silent, he was deadly, and he was completely removed from the environment. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal behaviour? If looks could kill, I would be sixty feet under, right now. Maybe Jessica wasn't as resentful as I thought and the boy really did have issues that needed to be dealt with – by a professional, it seemed. I mean, how could this have anything to do with me? I hadn't said a word to him; I hadn't touched him or had the time to offend him – even though I never would have. Would have, anyway. Maybe now I wouldn't be so courteous.

When the bell rang, I jumped. Mostly because Edward, even in his stupor, had somehow anticipated the ring and was out of his seat and walking past me as it wailed. He was taller than I thought as he passed people before they could stand, and he was out the door before anyone else could give a second glance.

I sat planted in my seat, completely terrified. He was cruel. It wasn't fair. I began gathering my things in a daze, thinking about how much of a dick that guy must be to d this to me on my first day – to ruin my day, month, year, and each day until graduation – just because he could. There was a moment where I tried to pretend like this wouldn't affect me for that long, but I was usually honest with myself and I knew that, for some strange reason, it invariably will.
Aren't you Promise Lovell?" a male voice asked. The owner of that voice was a cute, baby-faced boy, with pale blonde hair that was carefully gelled into orderly spikes. He smiled more friendly than I could have thought possible after the hour of disgust I'd sat beside. He must have smelled the vanilla.
" Yes". I said.
Do you need help finding your next class?" He smiled almost too much, but now I couldn't be sure if I was so desensitised from Edward's anger or if it really was excessive. I shook my head.

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I'll manage."

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled with this; though the school was so small I was sure I'd had classes with two or three other people in each so far. Nevertheless, we walked to class together; he was a chatterer – he supplied most of the conversation on his own, which made things easy for me since I was still so zoned out. He apparently was a little bit of a newbie, himself – living in California until he was ten, so he didn't know how to live in cold weather for a long time. He was also in my English class – called it.

"So did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what?" He asked as we walked into the gym. "I've never seen him act like that." I winced. So this wasn't his normal behaviour. Lucky me was a special case of...whatever the hell that was.

"You mean the dick from Biology?" I muttered darkly. He laughed almost too loud.

"Yes, " he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."

"I never spoke to him." I sighed. "Apparently he can feel my poverty through his Prada shirt."

"He's a weird guy." He chuckled. Instead of heading to the dressing room, he lingered and watched me with amusement in his crazily-blue eyes. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

Almost immediately, I decided it was time to change. He was friendly and admiring, but I was irritated and not even the most attractive boy – ironically enough, to me that was Edward Cullen – wouldn't have stood a chance.

The Gym Teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress for today. At home, you only needed two years of Gym was but here it was a four year requirement. Another stab at my day. Luckily I watched four volleyball games simultaneously instead of participating, I didn't need to be active today, it seemed. Thank. God.

When the final bell rang, I felt like I could cry from happiness. I walked to the office to return my slips of paper and smiled at the lack of rain...the smile didn't last long as my bones were chilled by the wind. When I walked into the office I was assaulted by an angry, honey tone of someone talking to the receptionist. I closed my eyes and held my breath when I realized it was Edward Cullen.

His tousled bronze hair was what gave him away and he was so busy quietly yelling to her that he hadn't noticed me enter. He was arguing in a low, attractive voice – much lower than I would have expected him to have. The argument was very clear, he was trying to trade form sixth hour Biology.

This couldn't be about me. This had to be about something else that had happened before I had gotten there. Something that happened that had nothing to do with the new girl he hadn't spoken a word to...right? It was impossible that a stranger could take such a sudden, intense hatred towards me.

The door opened again and I gasped from the cold wind that whipped through the room. The girl who came in put a note in the wire basket and walked out again, but Edward Cullens back had stiffened. Somehow – and I had no idea how it could be – he turned around and knew I was there. His face was absurdly handsome – even with his piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then, " he said hastily with a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heal without another look at me, and disappeared out the door. I took my moment to breathe out his absence before I walked meekly to the desk, face pale to hand her each signature.

"How did your first day go, dear" The receptionist asked maternally.

"Dandy, " I said sarcastically. She gave me a look of sympathy right after the one of shock – she must have thought I would have lied. Well, she clearly didn't know me at all.
When I got to my car, I was glad that I was one of the last cars in the lot. It seemed like a safe-haven, closer to home than anywhere else I had been since I had gotten off the plane. I sat for a while, wondering what I could do to get my mind out of this rut of...what? Fear? Self-consciousness? I thought of my promise to Aurora and decided to just ignore; stupid Edward Cullen.