My alarm sounds, the radio coming on. I wake up to Aerosmith playing Jaded, I just lay there for a few seconds listening to Steve Tyler sing before, with a heavy sigh, I climb outta bed and trudge over to my dresser. I keep my hands out in front of my till I feel the soft wood.
"Need some help?" Mom asks coming in. How is she always so damn chirpy and alive so friggin' early in the morning?
"Please." I mutter leaning against the wall while mom goes through my drawers.
"It's chilly outside, supposed to rain. How 'bout your long-sleeved black V-neck and some dark jeans and you can just wear your jacket over the shirt. Here's your converse." Mom tosses my old raggedy converse on my bed, one shoe falls off the side. She lays the clothes on the bed too and walks out, leaving my room to smell like vanilla.
I put on the clothes trying to picture myself in them but, hell, I don't even know what I look like. I touch my hair, it falls to just above my butt, I wrap my arms around my waist, it's tiny and slender, I feel my skin, it's soft and smooth on my face, I trace the outline of my lips, they feel full and almost round, I brush my finger tips along my eye lashes, soft and surprisingly long. But I don't know what color my hair is. I don't know if my waist is really as slim as it feels. I don't know what my skin color is or my eye color. I don't know the real shape of my lips or their color. I don't know whether my eye lashes are brown or black or blond.
I get dressed concentrating on the fit of the clothes to make sure I don't put my shirt on backwards or something. Yes, it has happened before.
"Honey, you wanna wear some makeup?" Mom asks hopeful. She always asks this. Mom always wanted the perfect little girl who she could dress up as her own doll and play house with. By the time I was five I had already started to pick out my own clothes because she always made me wear frilly dresses and skirts.
I surprise myself by saying, "Sure." What the hell? I never wear makeup! Why wear make-up when I can't even see it?
I can almost imagine the shock on moms face. I can't imagine the shock on mine but it's certainly there.
"Great! Alright, well, sit down and we can get started."
I'm sitting there for what feels like an eternity but turned out to be barely 10 minutes. During such 10 minutes I had to undergo the torture of moms' makeup bag, the rough bristles brushing across my skin, some horrible sticky … thing pulling at my lashes forcing them to feel hard, stiff, and stick up, gooey liquid spread across my lips, and more hairs, but these are softer, on my eye lids. By the time she's done my face feels like she's painted it into someone else. I dare not raise a hand to touch my face though, not wanting to make the damage even worse.
"Okay honey. You look stunning." Mom says hugging me. I feel frozen. "Here are your glasses." Mom puts them in my hand.
"I don't want them." Again, I surprise myself. Usually I clung to these glasses to hide the glazed over gray eyes that I never like admitting are mine. Forks brings out the craziest in people obviously.
"O… kay." Mom says slowly. There's a loud roar of a truck outside. At first it sounds like thunder but then it grows quieter and stills - in our driveway? – and I hear the engine which is surprisingly noisy. "Ah, that must be Bella. You better get going, Jaylea-Baby." I race down the stairs thankful I didn't trip along the way and grab myself a banana heading out the door with my jacket. Philips footsteps come up behind me.
I take middle next to Bella and Philip ride passenger.
We're quiet on the way there. I pull out my I-pod and listen to Ray Charles the whole way there.
I'd much rather be walking right now with Philip as my guide. I used to have an eye-dog but mom's allergic and after about a week we had to take him back. Mom keeps trying to get me to use a walking stick but I always refuse, why would I want to make myself more of a freak?
It would be easier to get around if I didn't have to get used to a new town every few months. If we could just find some town that mom didn't feel the need to run away from after 5 months I could memorize how to get everywhere in a matter of days! At least then Philip could make some real friends too, she's already destroyed my social skills but I'll be damned if Philip doesn't grow up with friends. Of course that's never really been much of an issue with him; he's not at all shy and always knows what to say and how to say it. Every where we go Philip always makes friends. Always. I used to be kinda jealous at this but I've gotten over it; I like being an outsider. It's… easier.
I'm sure that by the end of the school day Philip will have already stolen the hearts of all the freshman girls and made several friends. As per usual.
Bella sighs. "We're the first here I guess."
I follow Philip out the door. He keeps one finger touching the back of my hand, I'm grateful I have him.
I listen to their footsteps and breathing as we move towards what I guess is the office. There's a garden nearby. Philip opens the door, Bella goes in first and I follow her strawberry smell. The room is warmer than outside and theirs a lot of flowers in here too; are they trying to grow a green house in here? Maybe this is the garden I smelled. Freesia, lilies, roses, and lilacs. Lovely.
"Hi, I'm Philip Moore, this is my sister, Jaylea Moore and this is Bella Swan. We're new." My little bro says in the direction where someone is typing rapidly on a key board. The woman smells like Dove soap.
"Hello, I'm Mrs. Cole. Philip you're a freshman aren't you?" She paused and I presume Philip nodded next to me. "Alright well here's you schedule, I highlighted the routes that are easiest. And Jaylea Moore … and Bella Swan. Here's your schedules," I hear her breath catch, did she just now notice that I'm blind or something? Surely they were told about my unlucky eyesight issues, such as I have no eyesight. "Ah, uh, Jaylea we bought some Braille books they are already in your locker. Um, Bella you should help Jaylea get around." She didn't make it a question. Agh! I don't need help, damn it! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!
I scowled in the area the Dove soap aroma was coming from. Annoying, old bitch.
I hear Bella sigh to my right. She doesn't know how to get around either ya know!
"Thank you Mrs. Cole." Philip says in a voice that told me he was most definitely not thanking her in his mind.
We shuffled out the door then, it was drizzling outside.
Cars were starting to come in; I could hear them of course. They all sounded pretty lame, nothing fancy or anything and most of them sounded like the engines were about shot to hell. But then one car that didn't roar or growl like the others purred its way in the lot. This is probably the most expensive car here.
I spent the majority of the morning trying to decipher what car that one had been exactly. It was certainly in good shape, probably a new model too, but I couldn't be sure. Maybe a small, new, Toyota or a hybrid. Yes, probably a hybrid. Hmm, maybe a Volvo perhaps…
I learned about cars from my second and last boyfriend, Ricky. He's probably the only guy who'll ever be able to look passed the glazed over eyes and understand why I'm so closed off. Ricky was certainly no loner like me, he had a large group of friends, an even larger amount of admirers, and a few close group of people that he was always found with, and for some strange unknown reason he chose me to belong in the close group of friends. He welcomed me like no other and when his friends joked about my blindness or tied to make me run into a wall he was always there to help me and make them shut the hell up. I can remember how he talked to me, like I was any other girl, like I wasn't lost in total darkness. I can remember how I spent countless nights staying up imagining what he looked like, I always saw him with brown hair and smooth skin, softer than silk and the first time I ran my finger through his tresses I was right; they were softer than silk. The first time I caressed his face around our kiss I found I was also right; his skin was smooth and clear of any acne. He was perfect and my happiness was complete the day he asked me to be his.
But nothing good ever lasts and our love only lasted for one year till mom dragged me away, kicking and screaming. That was the first time I ever put up a commotion about our constant moving around. I've never completely forgiven my mother for that either.
I followed Bella's strawberry scent around all day really not paying much attention at all to my surroundings. In between classes I counted the footsteps it would take to get from point A to point B and then try to memorize that. It took 39 steps to get from Spanish to Gym. 45 steps to get from Trigonometryto History. Most of my classes were in separate buildings which made this harder and Bella was a junior unlike me but luckily most my classes were on the way to hers. Sometimes people walked with us, Mike Newton seemed quite taken with Bella in a Golden Retrieve kinda way; he was polite enough to me, shy but nice. Jessica Stanley walked with us some but she ignored me the whole way; disturbed by my eyes I guess.
I met a few people but I was sure that by tomorrow I'd forget their names completely. Hell, even now I only recall a few names; Hailey, John, Bill, and Vicky. Vicky seemed nice and she played the saxophone too. The others were like Mike; kind to an extent but only out of good manners, although when my eyes found their faces they seemed to shut up.
Bella and I were walking alone to Lunch when she said, "So, are you gonna sit by me?" Her small voice made put me on edge. Did she want me to sit somewhere else? Did Jessica put her up to that? Did Mike?
"Nah, I'm just gonna get some reading done." I say with a shrug. I might as well, in English I got a reading list and by the end of the year I have to have an essay about each book. I'd already read more than half the list and written essays about most of them for my past schools. I'll just reuse those. Some of these other books are things I have wanted to read also. One of them is In Search of Lost Time so when I do find myself an empty table, with Bella's help that I grudgingly accepted, I sit down and get lost in my book while taking small sips of Diet Pepsi. The second I do sit down though, I notice a smell in the air way too perfect to be perfume or cologne or lotion. It's like … nothing I've ever smelled before. I try to ignore the scent but it won't leave me alone. It's polluting the air I breath, making me feel dizzy almost and making me want more. I take quick sniffs and look in the direction of the smell. I feel stares on my face but I don't drop my gaze.
I think the smell is coming from the table next to me; it's so close.
"Hi." I say, loud enough that I'm sure they heard. I force a smile.
"Hello." One dainty voice, like tinkling silver bells, rings out across to me. The voice matches the smell; too perfect.
"I'm Jaylea."
"Alice." The small voice sounds happy but cautious too, guarded. Not like Bella's shy voice, afraid of reprove, but more like she's just very wary about her surroundings. Me too.
I nod and take another sip.
"She's new here, just moved from Oregon. She's blind so her sense of smell is much greater than average. She can smell us easily, possibly because we are all here together." Another all too perfect voice, deep so I'm sure it's from a man, whispers quickly. I have to rewind and go over his words again to make sure I got them right. Gee, guess he didn't realize that my sense of hearing is enhanced to huh.
The man chuckles lightly.
Creep. I shake my head a little and launch myself back into my book, using my finger and sensitive touch to read.
Time flies by and I'm nearing the end of my book when I hear someone's approach. The footsteps are too light and graceful to be Bella's, they're whisper soft too. I have to strain my ears to focus on them.
A girl clears her throat delicately.
I raise my head, not surprised at all. "Yes?"
"Lunch is over, do you have Music next?" The voice is different from Alice's, more like wind-chimes than silver bells. Stronger and less dainty but still very feminine.
"Yeah, do you?" I ask gathering my things and walking in the direction I can smell the garbage from. Dumping my tray and praying that it actually went in, I turned to the woman. She smelled like the others, sweet and sugary and all too perfect but it was more subtle now. But still most definitely there.
"Yes. I'll walk you there. I'm Rosalie." I follow her scent and footsteps; she must be wearing heels, to the door. I hate having to follow strangers like this. How am I supposed to know their taking me where they're saying they are?
"Jaylea."
"I know."
We don't talk for a few seconds and I focus on her alluring aroma, trying to find specifics in it. I catch a hint of roses, and the grass after a summer rain, and … sunshine maybe? The scent is so strong, especially with me so close, it's hard.
"So, is Forks everything you ever dreamed of?" Rosalie asks with sarcasm dripping from each word.
"Oh sure, I always wanted to live in a small secluded town with zero sunshine and people who think they have to yell at me because I'm blind." I use the same tone. It's surprisingly easy to talk with Rosalie.
She gives a small, but genuine, beautiful laugh.
"I'm Alice's sister; you spoke with her during Lunch." Ah, that explains the smell.
"Oh, okay. You two smell alike." Did I really just say?
Rosalie laughs again and asks, "Do you play any instruments?"
"Yes, the viola. I've been playing that since I was 8. What 'bout you?"
"I play many instruments; the piano, violin, flute, guitar, drums, viola, cello, harp, saxophone, trombone, and the clarinet." She says proudly. No way. She must be kidding me.
"Are you serious?" I ask my disbelief showing through my careful emotionless mask.
"Yes, I'm serious. I have a lot of free time." Another small laugh. "Well, here we are." Rosalie opens the door for me and I follow her scent in. "Miss Byrd, this is Jaylea Moore, she's new here. She plays the viola." In front of Rosalie is the smell of sweet pea and wood.
I forgot to count my steps. Crap.
"Really, well, Jaylea I am Miss Byrd and we have a viola that you can practice with if you like?" They have a viola? Seriously? Yes!
"Yes … please." Rosalie laughs at the enthusiasm in my voice, so clear even I heard it.
"Alright then, here it is. It's already stringed and toned so don't worry 'bout that, you can play anywhere really, Rosalie will you show Jaylea around?" I cradled the viola she carelessly put in my hand.
I could hear other students playing and tuning their instruments. They all sounded very… out of practice?
"Of course." Rosalie said in a smug voice and I followed her scent over to a couple of seats. "Here," she put my hand, the one not holding the viola, on the chair and I sat down hearing her do the same, I stifled a cringes at her icy touch. Rosalie started playing the violin in a slow rhythmic pace. The song was sweet and perfectly executed. I joined in adding a harmony to her playing. The song was sad and my viola seemed to be giving off tears with each stroke of my bow. Suddenly a cello came into the picture and I recognized the all too perfect scent, this must be one of Rosalie's brothers or her sister. The cello made our piece heartbreaking with a deep crying that was done so faultless I wondered how many hours this person practiced a day. Then another violin slowly entered our tear-jerking piece and then a viola drifts in at just the right minute. I was surrounded by the sweet, sugary, inviting aroma. It filled my nostrils but I kept my mind focused.
It felt like I was pouring everything into the viola, my tortured love for Ricky, my despair of the complete darkness, the betrayal from mom, like it was just another part of my being. The part that I use for expression.
Then oh so gently the instruments started to flow away into silence and in the end it was just me and my viola when I followed them into stillness. I'm not exactly sure how long we played but it felt wonderful, like I had released so much of my own despair and sadness into the melancholic piece.
We were all quiet then, though they did not leave, as the music floated around us. I wondered what it looked like- music. I bet music is beautiful.
"Bravo!" Miss Byrd exclaims from somewhere behind us making me jump slightly. I hope no one noticed. Then we are surrounded my clapping and applause. I try to enjoy the moment but it's too loud, I feel disoriented. The sounds bounce off the walls attacking me again. Darkness, as usual, is everywhere but noise is everywhere too. Not a good combination. I want to cover my ears and scream to block out the entire annoying racket but I'm already classified as "The Blind Girl," I don't want to be known as the "Crazy, Blind Girl."
"Thank you." Rosalie says, her voice is grateful but at the same time demanding. Everyone stops clapping; now I feel grateful.
"You're very good Jaylea." A girl's voice says to my right, again making me jump. It takes a few minutes for me to realize that the trilling voice came from Alice. She spoke in the direction of the second violin, was she playing it? She's the one that's "very good."
"Thanks." I force the words around the rock in my throat.
"You are very talented Jaylea. I'm Jasper." A masculine, perfect voice says to my left, he must have been playing the other viola. The voice has a touch of a Southern Accent to it. Very nice.
Acid drips down my skin, flowing along my flesh as I remember Ricky's voice … just a touch of a Southern Accent.
Quickly erasing my face of emotion, I grip my bow harder.
"Thanks, you are too." My face feels hot.
"I'm Emmett; I was the rock star on the cello." A booming deep voice announces. I laugh a little.
"Hi, rock star." I say around a giggle.
We spend the rest of the period playing and occasionally joking around about something silly. By the time Music Period is done I've noticed small differences between the Cullen's, whereas they all smell absolutely amazing Alice's fragrance gives off a hint of honeysuckle and mangoes, Jaspers vaguely reminds me of gun powder and horses, Emmetts smell always makes me think of fur, like on an animal and sort of musky, like the woods, and Rosalie's scent has the floral odor of roses, I laughed a little at the irony in that.
