Chapter 4- Alice

After Charlie dropped me off at the door of the school, I began to feel a little better. For a few blissful hours, I would be in my element. I made my way to my classroom and relaxed behind my desk.

I'd always found the written word to be very comforting. My books were my only constant as Renee moved us from place to place. She never let me keep very many - I was only allowed to keep as many personal possessions as I could carry in my little backpack, but I always managed to find a library wherever we were. The various libraries in the various cities we lived in were my sanctuaries. Renee never minded my spending time there as it often made do for a babysitter when she needed it.

Besides my passion for reading, I had always had dreams of being a writer, too. In fact, I had journals upon journals filled with stories and ideas. Many had characters not dissimilar from myself, but those characters were able to function in a world where they could have friends, dreams, and ambitions, and moreover, not be afraid to try new experiences and travel to different worlds. My journals were among the few possessions I had actually brought with me from Phoenix.

I never shared anything I'd ever written with anyone, aside from school assignments. My teachers always told me I showed great promise as a writer and encouraged me to do so, and I always politely said thank you, never wanting to admit my fears. I was afraid of what people would say about my work; I never handled criticism well. I was even more afraid that I would put too much of myself into my writing, and I could never handle being exposed like that.

Before the first bell, I quickly reviewed my lesson plan for Romeo & Juliet. This play was not one of my favorites, as it brought forth some painful memories from my own high school days. With a resounding sigh, I thought back to the most glaring memory I had of having to read the play out loud in one of my many middle schools.

"Isabella, you'll be reading the part of Juliet today," my English Teacher, Mrs. Schultz announced. I cringed in my seat. We were up to the balcony scene today. This eccentric woman insisted on the class acting out the entire play over the course of two weeks during class time. Each day I entered the class, I was mentally preparing myself for my turn to read, hoping it would never come. I didn't want to be the center of attention. I didn't want to stand in front of the class, stumbling nervously over lines and having my peers laugh at me like they always did. I preferred to hide in the shadows. Mrs. Schultz, of course, had to choose this scene for me to read.

"Mrs. Schultz," I said quietly. "I'd prefer not to read today. I'm not feeling very well."

"Well, do you need to go to the nurse?"

I cringed. If my mother found out I went to the nurse with any less than a hundred degree fever, I would certainly be punished. She wouldn't want to be interrupted from whatever she was doing to have to come get me - I learned that the hard way once.

"No, thank you. I would prefer just not to read today." I felt the eyes of my other classmates on me, and my heart started pounding.

"Well, if you're not going to go to the nurse, I don't want to hear your excuses. Come up here and act out your part."

She chose a boy named Mike Newton to read the part of Romeo. He made a habit out of harassing me daily, poking fun of my awkwardness because he could and making my life harder than it already was.

"Ugh, gross, do I have to kiss her?" he exclaimed after hearing he would be playing alongside me. I heard a few chuckles coming from his cronies.

"Oh, grow up, it's a peck on the lips. Now, let's get started. We've wasted enough class time."

We fumbled through the scene until it came time for the kiss. I began to visibly shake. I was feeling the very familiar symptoms of a panic attack starting. I was sweating and trembling, and my heart was beating fast and painfully now. I willed the feeling down, but I couldn't stop. When it was time for the kiss, my vision was blurry as Mike leaned closer to me. Then all hell broke loose, and my mind was in another place entirely.

"No, no, no, stop! Don't touch me, don't touch me!" I screamed, cowering away from him. My memories were hazy after that. When I came back around, I was rocking in the corner, chanting to myself, "Don't touch me," over and over again. I was vaguely aware of my classmates talking around me, some of them laughing. My head was spinning with unpleasant images, and I couldn't will them away.

Mrs. Schultz shook me roughly and yelled, "Isabella, snap out of it! Grow up!"

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"Sorry for disrupting my class isn't good enough. Get out of here; go see the principal."

Now my tears started flowing harder. I should have just gone to the nurse's office in the first place. It probably would have meant less punishment than a trip to the principal.

I wiped away a couple of stray tears that had developed as I relieved the memory in my mind. Neither Mrs. Schultz nor the principal could wrap their minds around the fact that I wasn't trying to be a difficult student but that I was simply terrified of the thought of Mike Newton touching me or kissing me. I couldn't be touched by anybody without having a panic attack.

Because I couldn't bring myself to let go of these painful memories, I decided to teach Romeo & Juliet to my honors class early in the year to get it over with. Fortunately, it wasn't on the regular English curriculum, so I only had to endure it for the first period of the day. If I had a choice, I wouldn't teach it at all, but it was mandatory. Unlike Mrs. Schultz, I decided to not subject my students to having to act out the play. Instead, I split them into groups and allowed them to work together on a project selected from a list. I wasn't in the mood for flashbacks, especially not my first year teaching.

My day today should have been fairly simple, which was fortunate considering the impending Parents' Night this evening. This was the wrap-up day for Romeo & Juliet, which made me incredibly happy. The class would turn in their projects and select one group member to give a small presentation about it. This way, if somebody was nervous about presenting, another group member could do the talking. I almost always did things this way - there were never any solo presentations. During a department meeting one day, some of the other English teachers had criticized my decision of not forcing students to present if they were uncomfortable. They said I was denying them of experience in developing their social skills and also breeding laziness. They were probably right to an extent, but I would leave the mandatory presentations to them. I couldn't personally handle watching a student of mine break down over public speaking because I forced them to.

This honors class was also my homeroom, so after announcements and housekeeping things were taken care of, we jumped right in. Once the first bell rang, I immediately called the class to order to allow enough time for each group to present. The first up were Alice Cullen, Riley Biers, and Bree Tanner. Riley and Bree were a popular couple at the school, whereas Alice was a bit of an outcast.

When I originally assigned the project, I assigned the class to work in groups of three to five, but Riley and Bree refused to invite anyone else into their group. It was for this reason they found themselves having to work with Alice Cullen, who had been sitting quietly in the back, refusing to ask any other groups if she could participate.

Alice was a bright girl, and I had hope that she may be able to spark some creativity into the relatively boring pair of students she'd been assigned to. Riley and Bree were both honor students, but most of the writing they'd produced so far this year had been fairly banal. Alice wrote dark, sarcastic, often funny poems, stories, and essays that I found myself engrossed in every time I read one of her assignments. She was a bit of a loner, though, and I hoped that while she may spark some creativity in Riley and Bree, they might be able to break through her walls and open her up a little.

Bree was the most outspoken of the group, so I was unsurprised when she volunteered to present their project to the class. I was particularly excited about this presentation - not just because it would be a collaborative work including Alice - but it was one of my favorite projects to do when I was in school. They were supposed to have reworked several passages in Romeo & Juliet into modern day English.

"Miss Swan," Bree began, "before we begin, I wanted to tell you that Riley and I decided not to include Alice's name on the project."

"Fine," I quickly interjected, before either of them had a chance to say anything negative about Alice, who I realized still hadn't left her seat in the back of the room. She was still sitting with her arms crossed, an angry glare on her face. "We can discuss that after class. Please, go ahead."

Their project was excruciatingly boring. They had correctly interpreted Shakespeare's English, but the way they rewrote it was short and boring - there was no originality at all. When they were finished, I quickly called the next group up, anxious to get through the class, so I could find out what happened to Alice. I had a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach throughout the class, because truly, in the short month that I had known her, I cared about her and worried about her constantly. She reminded me a little of myself when I was her age and maybe even a little of myself now.

As the final bell rang, I called Riley, Bree, and Alice to my desk. "Okay, guys, what's going on?"

"She didn't help us at all!" Bree exclaimed. "We were supposed to meet at the library on Monday to work on it, and she didn't even come. Then I tried to e-mail her what Riley and I had done, so she could add to it, and she never wrote back. I kept trying to call her, but she never picked up. We even went over to her house, and her brother said she wasn't feeling well and couldn't come to the door."

"Were you sick, Alice?" I asked, suddenly very concerned.

"No. I just didn't want to work with these assholes," she said, eyes trained on the floor.

"Riley, Bree, go to your next class, please." I waited until the door was shut firmly behind them before turning my attention to Alice. "What's going on, Alice?"

"I just didn't want to work with them," she said quietly. "They're always picking on me in gym and calling me names. It's mostly Bree, really. Riley didn't do anything. I decided I'd rather take a failing grade then put up with any of her bullshit."

"Honey, if Bree is harassing you or bullying you, you need to report it," I said sternly.

"No, really, it's okay. I don't need any more drama," she sighed. "Can I go to my next class? I don't want to be late again."

"I'll write you a pass. Listen, I don't want you to fail this project, so if you give me three pages of translated work, any act you want, by Monday morning, I'll give you credit, minus ten points for being late. Okay?"

"Okay, thanks," she said, eyes still trained on the floor.

"Alice, really, if anything is bothering you, you can talk to me, okay?"

"No, nothing's wrong. Can I get the pass, please?"

I pulled a late pass from my desk and signed it. She was gone as soon as I handed it to her. I leaned my head on my desk and sighed. I knew I wouldn't be able to focus on my next class; I was too worried about Alice.

I knew quite a bit about her from the gossip in the teachers' lounge. Apparently, she used to be very popular in middle school. She had a lot of friends, always smiled, and was the center of attention. She was creative, smart, and commanded attention whenever she was in a room. Then everything changed in an instant.

At the beginning of the summer, Alice's parents died in a house fire. Alice was inside when the house caught, but was able to get out. Apparently, she suffered some burns and smoke inhalation, but no other major injuries. Alice witnessed her house burning down with her parents inside. I shuddered at the horrifying image and what the poor girl must have gone through.

Alice had an older brother who lived in Seattle. Fortunately, he didn't happen to be in his parents' house when it caught fire, but he was in town. According to the town gossip, Alice had spent several weeks in the hospital, and then nobody really heard anything from either of the remaining Cullens until the school year started. All they knew was that her brother, whose name I didn't know, moved back to Forks, so Alice wouldn't have to change schools. I thought that was kind of him, to leave everything behind for his little sister.

Since I was relatively new to town, and brand new to Forks High, I wasn't as shocked as some of the other teachers to see Alice Cullen the first time when she entered the school on the first day of class. There were stares and whispers, both from staff and the students, and Alice didn't look anybody in the eye. A few people tried to talk to her, but she just held a vacant gaze and never said a word to anybody.

Over the next few days, I noticed Alice becoming even more withdrawn, if that were even possible. Her wardrobe got progressively darker until she wore nothing but black, all the time. She always hid her face behind her dark hair, and she quietly listened in her classes without ever raising her hand. When I heard some of the gossip about her, and what she had recently been through, I became even more concerned. I was especially worried after having learned how lively and vibrant she once was. I suppose the death of one's parents would lead anybody to become withdrawn and depressed, but I couldn't help but feel that maybe there was something else going on, as well.

Last week, I sent a concerned letter home to her brother. I rewrote it five or six times, making sure I came off as professional and nonjudgmental as possible. It just explained that I thought Alice was very bright, with a lot of potential for being a writer, but that I was concerned about her attitude and behavior and suggested she may need to talk to somebody. Not really knowing anything about her brother or her home situation, I felt that it was my duty to share what I had noticed about Alice. I offered my contact information in case he wanted to talk to me, but thankfully, he didn't. I always got uncomfortable dealing with parents, especially on the phone. I just hoped that he took my advice and would seek out some help for her. I also hoped he wouldn't think I was overstepping my boundaries by sending such a letter in the first place.

I managed to relax about Alice for a little while and got to work grading the projects that were submitted and working on my lesson plans for the next book we'd be reading. Most teachers had the luxury of reusing old, and sometimes dated, lesson plans, but since this was my first year teaching, I had to do everything from scratch. I didn't mind though, because the extra work I put in helped me not focus so much on the mundane. My being busy was keeping my anxiety at bay, and for that, I was grateful.

I was surely even more distant than usual throughout the rest of the day, both with my concern about Alice and the upcoming Parents' Night. I spent my entire free period, which was my last period before school was dismissed, staring at my desk and nervously drawing circles on a legal pad. When the bell rang, signaling the end of the day, I was instantly sick. That meant it was that much closer to Parents' Night. It was three o'clock now. Charlie would pick me up for dinner at four, and Parents' Night started at six. I pulled out the submitted projects from my honors class that morning, determined to do some work for the next hour before Charlie picked me up. I was not looking forward to this night. Not at all...