Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. The bands own all their lyrics and songs. I own nothing except my random ideas.
an: I realize that the song I chose for this chapter would be much more fitting for the first chapter, and the first chapter would be much better for this. But that's okay. I'm glad you guys are fascinated by this. Thanks for putting up with my weird ass plot ideas.
Released under watchful skies into a town I didn't recognize
I was a tourist with no story, lost in this purgatory
-Youth Group, "Shadowland"
I looked around at the table again not knowing exactly what to expect. The serious looks on everyone's faces made me feel like I should brace myself for some secret initiation ritual. But then didn't do anything. They just sat there and looked right back at me.
And they thought I was an enigma.
I had no idea what about these people drew me to them like a moth to a flame. I felt like Raskolnikov being sucked into Porfiry's psychological traps. Everything in my nature insisted I shrug off their offer and continue my efficient life of solitude. I didn't even like people. In fact, I hated everything these kids personified: social hierarchy, materialism, superficiality. Or at least I thought I did. Or were those the things they actually represented? They claim indifference to the pettiness of the inner workings of high school just like I do. But were they actually apathetic? All my observations told me no, but for some unknown reason, my gut told me yes. I felt some sickening attraction to this group. Maybe they weren't easily mystified, but I was actually never intrigued by people until now for some incomprehensible reason. They were the elite, the crème de' le' crème, the epitome of social hierarchy and high school pettiness. However, I wasn't quite sure if that was their intention. Had they sought out this "position" or had it been thrust upon them due to their silver spoons? They did distance themselves from everyone else the way I did, but they did it out of arrogance.
But that's what you do, too. You think you're too good to be around ordinary people.
I guess I did feel I was too good for everyone else, which is why I hated humanity. They just weren't worth the time. People symbolized inadequacy.
So how are you any different from them? I'm not then, I guess. You're just a cocky sonuvabitch, too.
They stared at me expectantly as if they had anticipated my internal debate. Rosalie continued to gaze at me with steely determination. She didn't move at all. I don't even think I caught her blinking once. I couldn't even see or hear her breathing. Jasper was developing a bored look on his face, as was Emmett. Alice peered curiously as if trying to interpret my thoughts. Bella stared wistfully at the rest of the cafeteria. Leigh picked anxiously at her fingernails. Camdyn uttered a small squeak of a yawn, while both Landon and Carter shifted nervously in their seats beside me. Other than Camdyn's little noise, the table was absolutely silent. The silence was deafening. It almost seemed to drown out the rest of the lunchroom dyne.
Finally, I broke the tension.
"Okay. I'm in. What does 'in' entail?"
Rosalie broke into a slight grin.
"You'll see."
"Rose, you make it sound much more intense than it actually is. We're not like the fucking Skull and Bones club," Jasper added.
"Pretty damn close," Emmett muttered.
Bella elbowed him and shot him a glare.
What the hell? What the fuck have I gotten into?
Jasper laughed awkwardly, I speculated, in order to shrug off Emmett's little comment.
"So, I'm assuming we hang out? I mean, I've never been part of a group per se. But I heard that's what happens? You know like get togethers and what not."
Alice giggled.
"Yes, friends tend to hang out."
"And especially since it's a Friday night, we will be 'hanging out. Oh, and FYI, Evanston, this will not be your ordinary Midwestern shindig,'" Rosalie mocked.
"Okay, so should I get your guys' numbers or something?"
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my Blackberry. At that moment, the bell rang to dismiss everyone from lunch to class. They all began getting up apparently oblivious to my question. I decided to repeat my request.
"Uh, so numbers?"
"Oh, don't worry. We'll be in touch," Rosalie called out already making her way through the double doors to her next class, the sea of students parting as her high heels clicked against the ground.
In that instant, I felt completely alone again. This was the most bizarre lunch I had ever experienced.
After school, I went home in a surprisingly happier mood. Obviously, I knew the source of this joy. I was instantly disgusted with myself. I had become one of those kids I absolutely loathed—desperate to impress and fit in and giddy from any sign of attention given their way. I was just another pathetic wannabe. I don't know what it was about these people that caused me to alter my entire mentality.
My face must have been contorted in some despicable expression, because as soon as Esme spotted me, a look or concern passed over her brow.
"Edward, sweetie, what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong."
I threw my bag down onto the marble floor of the foyer. I walked into my room and locked the door. The room was twice the size of the normal bedroom, because Esme insisted that they bulldoze the wall between two bedrooms so my piano could fit. Then, Carlisle forced them to soundproof the room, so I wouldn't keep him up with my midnight practicing.
I stretched out my slender fingers onto the ivory keys. I closed my eyes and poured out all my emotion into the music, all the happiness, sadness, anger, and disgust. Ten measures, twenty measures, then fifty measures blossomed from this maelstrom of feelings. Immediately, I grabbed my ballpoint pen and started scribbling on manuscript. I scrawled anything I could remember and willed my fingers to replay the same notes over and over again so I could write it all down. During my final measures, my Blackberry vibrated violently against the piano. I scanned the screen. It was an unidentified number.
"Hello?"
"Edward."
My perfect pitch recognized Rosalie's sharp tone and feminine pitch.
"Rosalie."
"Good ears, at least you can tell it's me. I guess all those years of piano paid off, music man."
"Yeah. I guess."
"Meet us at Cain Luxe at 11:30 tonight. That's in Chelsea for the clueless. Dress appropriately for clubbing."
"Do I need to bring anything?"
"Cash. Plenty of it."
The line clicked dead.
Sketchy ass phone call, much?
I got up from the piano bench and sat on my king sized bed grabbing my Mac Book Pro from off the ground. I pulled up Google and typed in 'Cain Luxe.' It had just been renovated and was considered one of the 'hip' places to be. I rolled my eyes.
What had I gotten myself into? Seriously? Clubbing? And I thought they were more interesting than that. Whatever. I'll see how this goes.
Despite defying all my principles, I conceded to go. I shut my laptop and took a deep yawn. I was awfully tired. I checked my phone for the time. It was a little past 6. I had plenty of time to shower and get dressed before going. I convinced myself I could take a quick nap. I let my heavy eyelids droop slowly into sleep.
