"Mr. Masen, I thought we had an agreement. I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. Especially with that little heroic act a couple of weeks ago. I thought maybe you were turning a new leaf." My social worker, Demetri, leans back in his chair as he types away at his computer.

"You know I just can't stay away, D." I slink down into the plush chair in front of his desk and put my feet up.

"You missed school again."

"I didn't see the need to go and listen to some dull dickhead mumble on about the Civil War."

Demetri fights a smile. "You've got Mr. Hall for American History."

"So you understand my need for a mental health day, then?" I smirk and grab a piece of candy from his bowl.

I've been meeting with him since I was thirteen years old, when I was first placed here in Forks. After four years, I'm starting to reach my stay limit. It's the longest I've been in one place since I was thrown into the system. I have a bad habit of running away when I get bored or things got too tough, marked as a serial runaway. They call it a defense mechanism. I call it an allergy to bullshit.

"Listen, Edward. You've got a real good thing going with Carlisle Cullen. He's like the Daddy Warbucks of foster parents. Don't mess it up."

The door behind us opens, forcing a gust of wind through the entire office. A stack of papers on Demetri's desk fly off and despite my growing irritation for having to come here whenever I go against the rules, I bend down to pick them up.

Something catches my eye in the background. Someone. A girl. The girl. The one I pulled from the woods last week.

Her face is covered by the hood of her jacket and all I can see is a cascade of brown curls that fall down the front of her chest. One of the other social workers escorts her to her desk and pulls out the chair for her to sit down. She does. Then she pulls her knees up to her chest and locks her arms around them.

"Any news?" I ask Demetri, nodding back towards her.

"She won't tell us anything but her first name. Says she doesn't remember who she is."

"That's...awful." My brow furrows. "I hear Charlie Swan's taking her in?"

"Yeah. He's been wanting to foster since his kid died. He's got the extra room and all. Plus he's the chief of police. I guess he figures no one can pull one over on him."

I laugh. I've pulled more over on that man than he'd care to know.

Demetri glances at the clock and raises an eyebrow. "By the looks of it, you've rolled over into 4th period. I suggest you get up there before your entire day is a wash. Go get some education, kid."

"Yeah, yeah." I push up and jokingly flip him off. He laughs and goes back to his computer.

The girl is still sitting at the other desk, her head buried down into her knees. I'm glad to see that she appears to be feeling better, although I wouldn't be able to tell from her face. I still haven't seen it since it was blue and lifeless.

I clear my throat as I pass by and pause. "Hello," I say. Her head tilts my way, but she doesn't look up. "I..."

Her social worker steps between us and gives me the eye. I roll my eyes and continue on my way, dreading spending the rest of the day in school.

I slip easily into school between lunch and 5th hour and find myself wandering through the crowded halls. I spot Alice and Emmett, the other Cullen fosters, down the hall with their significant others.

"Edward!" Emmett calls. I head over and grab my books out of my locker. "Where have you been all day? You weren't in English."

"Yeah I wasn't in History or Shop either." I slam my locker shut and lean back against it.

"You missed a pop quiz," Alice says. "You know Mr. Hall won't let you make it up."

"I'm passing that class with flying colors, one quiz isn't going to break me." My fingers dig for a toothpick in my coat pocket and I stick it between my teeth. "He can't fail me just because he doesn't like me."

"I think hates you might be a better way of putting it." Alice rolls her eyes and takes off with Jasper towards her next class.

I laugh, holding the toothpick firmly between my lips. "Guess I won't be getting student of the month anytime soon."

A hard punch hits my shoulder. I whip around and find Rose glaring at me.

"Don't be such a dick," she snaps.

"I'm not a dick." I smile.

The bell rings, signaling the start of 5th period. The crowd departs, and I quickly scurry into my classroom a moment before Mr. Taylor closes the door.

"Almost late again, Mr. Masen," he mumbles.

"You know I wouldn't miss it for the world. Biology is my favorite class," I say, my voice flooded with sarcasm.

My feet carry me across the front of the classroom and I glance up, expecting to see my table empty like it always was. I stop, seeing that the second seat is occupied.

"We have a new student, everyone," Mr. Taylor says. "Her name is Isabella, so please introduce yourself and show her some hospitality."

Isabella. Hm. I glance her way as I slide into the seat beside her. She avoids my stare, her face still covered by her hood just like it was at the office earlier. Doesn't she recognize me? I mean I am the person who saved her fucking life, she can at least acknowledge my presence.

Mr. Taylor hands out a video work sheet to each of us before pulling the ancient TV set towards the middle of the room. Before he dims the lights, I see her hand reach out over the desk and write her name down at the top. Isabella. She pauses, and after a long moment of hesitation, she sets her pencil back down.

I scribble my name down on my worksheet as Mr. Taylor lowers the lights and starts the movie. Something about different relationships in nature. I'm noy paying attention. I've already read it all in the book. I'm more interested in her, the mysterious stranger beside me.

I lean towards my table partner and whisper her name. "Isabella." She doesn't move. I try again. "Isabella."

"Leave me alone, please," she mumbles, scooting her chair farther away and pushing her worksheet as far from my eyes as possible. She thinks I'm trying to cheat off her. Talk about a cold shoulder.

"Fine," I scoff.

I eye her book sitting between us, so I grab it and scribble something on the first page.

I'm not trying to cheat off of you.

She glances down at it before answering me.

They're going to charge me for that, asshole.

Even though she's irritating and hostile, I laugh before making a conscious decision to leave her alone. For now.

I squint at the worksheet, wondering why the hell teachers always give us these things and expect us to do them in the dark. After I write down all of the answers, I flip my sheet over and close my eyes, hoping to catch a few minutes of sleep before class ends.

The bell jolts me awake. Everyone is standing up from their desks and turning in their worksheets on Mr. Taylor's desk. I gather my things and notice Isabella is lingering behind. She's staring down at her worksheet, at the name spot where her last name should be.

A pang of sympathy shoots through me. She doesn't know her last name. That has to be rough.

She follows me up to Mr. Taylor's desk and I slap my finished worksheet down on the pile. She stares at it for a second, I assume trying to figure out how I knew all of the answers when I slept through the whole movie. She sighs, laying her paper on top of mine.

I open my mouth to speak, but she rushes out of the room, gone before I can say a single word.

The last hour of the day is gym and I spend it running around the track while everyone else sits in circles pretending to stretch. Most people ironically see gym as the goof off hour. I see it as another opportunity to get a run in.

I shower after class and head out to the parking lot, ready to get home and snack on those cookies Esme made last night. The lot is mostly empty from kids anxiously speeding out of here the moment the final bell rang. Stray cars belong to teachers, athletes and band members. Mine sits towards the front.

I throw my bag over my shoulder and flip my keys around my fingers. As I pass the tree before the concrete starts, I spot her sitting at the base. All alone. I know none of these cars are hers and I wonder if she missed the bus or something.

"Hey, you need a ride?" I ask. She acts like she doesn't hear me. "Hey, Isabella. You. Sitting by the tree." She finally looks up. "Do you need a ride?"

"No, thank you," she says. "Charlie's pulling in now." She stands and goes to stand at the curb. I spot Charlie's police cruiser pulling into the parking lot so I shrug it off and start towards my car. I look back just before I get there and see her open the passenger door as he pulls up.

When she pushes her hood off, my breath hitches in my throat. Color. She's got color in her cheeks, not the pale blue tint I'd seen in the woods. Even from here I can see her dark eyes. They're staring at me as she slips into Charlie's car. I can't tell if it's hate or something else behind them, but I decide at that moment that next time I find an unconscious girl in the woods I'm leaving her there. Maybe. Okay, not really. But this girl is something else.

I get into my car, deciding to give her a mulligan because of the whole memory loss issue, and head home, already salivating over those damn cookies.


A/N: I normally won't be updating back to back like this, but I am leaving for Disney World on 3/6 and will be gone until 3/10, plus I'll be busy before getting ready so I wanted to get one more update up before I'm gone. Thank you so much for all of your reviews, you guys are so good to me! :)