My apologies for the lateness of this chapter. Between houseguests, midterms and essays to grade, an online class I'm teaching that's taking a great deal of my time, and the nastiest cold I've had in the past decade, all forces were against me.
But the good news: two Cullens appear in this chapter...along with a few other characters you'll recognize.
My apologies for any italics-running-together issues. I tried to not use italics too much, and this site won't let me fix them! My apologies. It's driving me crazy! I don't have problems uploading it on other sites.
ENJOY!
Chapter 9
As we backed up then drove toward the highway to Forks, Mrs. Jane pulled a brown paper bag from her tote bag nestled between our seats and handed it to me.
"I was afraid they wouldn't bother to feed you this morning," she said softly, kindly not looking at me. "It's just a bagel with cream cheese and a banana, but it's breakfast. There's some juice in there, too."
"Thank you," I murmured, blushing and even more grateful that she wasn't looking at me with that kind, almost pitying expression that always embarrassed me.
Hungry, I removed the food and juice box from the bag and began wolfing it down. Occasionally I noticed Mrs. Jane glance at me from the corner of her eye with a little consternation, obviously worrying that I wasn't being fed properly.
She was right, of course, but I was too damn proud to admit it, despite my appetite giving me away this morning.
I nearly groaned with pleasure as I devoured the food—the bagel was still warm after being toasted, slathered with a thick layer of cream cheese and strawberry jam. Although in a box appropriate for little kids, the apple juice was cold and sweet and very welcome.
It was undoubtedly the best breakfast I had eaten in years.
When I was finished, I tried to be surreptitious about licking the extra cream cheese and jam from the aluminum foil wrapper and from my fingers. But I doubt Mrs. Jane was fooled.
If anyone had "mom instincts" for missing nothing, it was this tiny woman.
I was enjoying the food so much that the miles slipped by quickly, and before I knew it, Mrs. Jane had pulled up in front of Forks High. Gulping down the last of the juice through its miniscule straw, I leaned forward to scoop up the backpack.
"Bella," Mrs. Jane said, turning in her seat to face me. "I put a five-subject binder inside the backpack. Purple." She grinned at me before continuing, "You'll find pencils and pens in the smallest zippered pouch."
Then her expression became serious. "Now, did the Blacks give you lunch money for today?"
Suppressing a disdainful snort, I shook my head in the negative, gripping the backpack to me like a life preserver.
"I'll set you up on the free lunch program today. The school will have you on the books for tomorrow," Mrs. Jane assured me. "Just stop by Mrs. Cope's desk to pick up your punch card tomorrow and the first day of each month. And," she glared through the windshield, "because I seriously doubted that the Blacks would provide you with lunch money, you'll find a few dollars along with the writing instruments in the front pocket."
Totally tearing up with her thoughtfulness, I leaned forward and impulsively did something I hadn't done in over a year: I hugged someone, namely Mrs. Jane. It had been over a year since I had dared to embrace Jacob, and before that years since I had hugged his mom. "Thank you," I managed to choke out.
Touching someone...and letting someone touch me...was a frightening scenario for me. It truly scared me shitless. But it was different with Mrs. Jane, probably because she was just so damn motherly.
Mrs. Jane returned the hug warmly. "Have a wonderful day at school, Bella. And call me any time you need any thing. Anything at all. You hear me?"
I nodded against her shoulder, unable to speak in the welcome warmth and motherly feel of her embrace. A single tear crept down the side of my nose, then dripped onto my hoody. I sniffled once.
Somehow the sound separated us and we let go, smiling a little at one another. I could see the anxiety for me in her eyes, and I was sure that my own rising panic was quite evident in my own.
"I'm proud of you, Bella, sweetie," Mrs. Jane said quietly. I nodded quickly, then let myself out the passenger door before any more tears made an unwelcome appearance.
Damn, I hated crying.
It was a sign of weakness.
But just that one tear today had freed a little something in me, that same something that Jacob's rude slam this morning had suppressed. Although I still felt scared and unsure of myself, I also felt unaccountably light and more than a little excited.
Change was here. And I welcomed it.
This was my chance to alter my pathetic life, and I had better damn well take this chance and run with it. It would be the only chance I'd get, after all.
Turning around when I was halfway across the lot, I saw Mrs. Jane sitting in her minivan, watching me as I approached the school buildings. I gave her a tentative wave and a small smile, both of which she returned before starting her vehicle.
I watched her make a left turn onto the highway, and didn't move until the now-familiar minivan disappeared from my sight.
Sighing once, I squared my shoulders and prepared to start my first day of school.
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After checking in with Mrs. Cope and getting my schedule and a map of the school, I made my uncertain way to my first class (and my favorite subject), English. I stopped in the doorway, my senses overwhelmed. The amount of exuberant noise in the classroom surprised me; I had to quell the automatic reaction to cover my ears. After being practically isolated for years, this level of noise and activity was new to me, as were crowds. I shrank into myself, steeling my mind to actually enter the classroom, hoping that the teacher's presence would calm the hyperactive students once he or she arrived.
As I prepared myself to enter the wildly noisy room, I was shoved rudely from behind. Stumbling forward, I grabbed the doorframe to keep myself upright. A high-pitched laugh sounded behind me.
"Jesus, don't block the door, bitch," hissed a girl with long blonde hair and a sour expression. She glared at me with strangely pale blue-green eyes, looking me over from head to foot, sneering a little as she did so.
"Worthless," she muttered, flouncing to a nearby seat and throwing an arm around the shoulders of a handsome, dark-skinned boy. He winked at me, and I blushed.
Closing my eyes for a moment, I swallowed hard, trying to smother the heat rising on my face and the tears forming in my eyes. Perfect. Was I really starting my school career as a crybaby? I was worthless, just like she said...
I opened my eyes and glanced over the room, looking for an open seat. The seats—chairs with a laminate wood-type table attached to the left side of the chair—were arranged in four long rows, with three aisles between the rows, plus aisles along the sides and along the back of the room. One long wall consisted of windows from about four feet above the floor to the ceiling. Near the back row of seats, a closed door was set along the same wall as the one I had entered. As my eyes roamed, I notices that the back row of seats seemed empty, so I started moving from the front of the room in that direction, sliding as unobtrusively as possible into the seat closest to the windows which were cracked open. Fresh air might be a good idea at this point; it could only help to calm me.
No one was sitting near me. Most of the students, including the rude girl who had shoved me and the boy who winked, were gathered in a group near the front of the room near the teacher's desk, apparently catching up with one another after the two-week winter break. At least I was coming back to school at a somewhat unobtrusive time of year, the beginning of a new semester.
A girl with straight honey-colored hair entered the room and walked down the aisle toward me. I quickly ducked my head to avoid her gaze, picking up my backpack from where I had dropped it on the floor beside me and taking out the binder that Mrs. Jane had purchased me. And as she had promised, it was purple.
I couldn't help a secret grin. Mrs. Jane knew my preference for all things purple and had kindly purchased this wonderful notebook-binder for me, which, as I glanced about the room, was similar to what the majority of the students were carrying.
As I peeked through the remaining contents of the backpack, I spied a package of college-ruled notebook paper which I quickly split open and added to each of the five divisions of the padded binder. Wadding the plastic that had enclosed the lined paper and tossing it into my backpack, I looked up to see the honey-haired girl twisted around backward in her chair, looking at me curiously.
Of course I blushed, embarrassed by her unwavering gaze.
Then pink burned in her cheeks, too—an occurrence that made me feel much more comfortable.
"I-I-I'm s-sorry for staring," the girl stammered, looking down at her hands on the back of her seat. "Y-y-you look familiar, somehow. Are you from around here?"
She looked up at me, and I was relieved both by her shyness and by the kindness of her eyes. They seemed familiar to me, too.
"Angela?" I asked without thinking, then blushed even deeper...which I wasn't sure was possible.
"Isabella? Isabella Swan?" she asked in return, shocked.
"Yes. I go by 'Bella" now," I answered, excitement tinging my usual shyness, an attribute I remembered Angela sharing with me in elementary school.
Angela's face broke into a lovely smile—a smile I remembered well. "Welcome back, Bella! I'm so glad to see you!" She reached her hand forward and squeezed mine gently. I flinched just a little, grateful that Angela didn't seem to notice. I was also thankful that she didn't try to hug me as I didn't feel comfortable with most physical touch after so many months locked in solitary confinement. Motherly Mrs. Jane was the obvious exception.
She glanced over her shoulder to the front of the room, her blush and her smile disappearing completely. "Come sit beside me," she said hurriedly, her face now pale.
Before I had a chance to ask her why, I saw a beautifully elfin girl, tiny with spiked dark hair and dark eyes, practically dancing up the aisle toward me. Behind her loomed an even more beautiful boy, tall and lanky, with perfectly-mussed brown hair highlighted golden-red. He moved with the easy grace of perfectly-restrained power.
"Come on!" Angela practically hissed at me, grasping my arm and pulling me from my chair. Quickly scooping up my things, I slid into the seat beside Angela just as the beautiful girl and boy passed us, the girl seating herself where I had been sitting, the boy sliding into the chair directly behind me.
They hadn't spoken to or acknowledged Angela as they passed.
I bristled a little at their seeming rudeness. Was Angela the only decent person in the entire school? So far, that's what it seemed like.
I had less hope now of liking Forks High. But at least I had rediscovered Angela.
As I plopped my notebook atop my desk and settled my backpack at my feet, the teacher entered the room, striding purposefully to his desk. Reluctantly, the students settled noisily into their seats. Apparently seeing my paperwork on his desk, the teacher called, "Isabella Swan?" as his eyes roamed the classroom, seeking an unfamiliar face. Spying me, he beckoned kindly.
Grabbing the add-slip that had to be signed by each of my teachers today, I made my way carefully up the aisle. The teacher introduced himself as Mr. Mason, and he signed my slip with a flourish before handing me a syllabus.
"We just completed final exams before the winter break, so you're starting the second semester fresh," he said encouragingly. I felt my face reddening at his attention. "I'll be distributing our next work to the entire class in a few moments. Are you all set, Isabella?" He smiled at me, his eyes radiating kindness and intelligence.
I could tell I was going to like Mr. Mason.
I wasn't brave enough to insist upon being called "Bella" yet, so I nodded and turned to walk back down the long aisle to my seat. I tried not to look at all the curious eyes following my every move, but as I wasn't watching my feet, I tripped over a backpack jutting out into the aisle. I stumbled, having to grab onto the front of a desk to keep myself from falling flat.
Perfect, I groaned to myself. Myfirstclasshasbarelybegun,andIhavealmostfallenonmyfaceinthemiddleoftheclassroom.I'msuchanidiot.
Red-faced, I tried to ignore the suppressed laughter that Mr. Mason quelled immediately as he called the class to order and began taking roll.
The boy whose desk I had grabbed to keep from falling looked at me. Well, he couldn't quite help it as we were practically face-to-face. "Do you need some help?" he asked, surprised but not unkind. His blonde hair was carefully gelled into spikes, and his face was round, young-looking. Even more embarrassed, I shook my head in the negative, righted myself, and scurried back toward my seat. Angela was looking down at her notebook, trying to ignore my klutziness to spare me additional embarrassment—a kindness I would not soon forget.
As I turned to seat myself, I caught the eye of the boy sitting behind me. His eyes were the blackest black I had ever seen—blacker even than Jacob's. As these black eyes burned into mine, I felt the bright red blush on my cheeks rapidly disappear. The boys' eyes seemed dangerous, malevolent—as if he could and would injure me...and enjoy doing it.
Asifhissoulwereasblackashiseyes.
I stood frozen by his gaze—somehow hypnotized into utter stillness, like prey before a deadly cobra. Dizziness swept over me as our gazes remained locked, and one corner of his beautiful mouth twitched upward, as if he were sardonically amused.
I was recalled into mobility by Mr. Mason calling my name, asking me to be seated. I twisted away from his gaze and plopped into my chair, shaking my head slowly from side to side as I tried to regain some sense of equilibrium, some sense of normalcy.
As Mr. Mason began to discuss our next book to read, Shakespeare's Macbeth,a favorite of mine because I had always wanted to wield power as Lady Macbeth did, I felt his eyes boring into my back. The boy behind me was staring at me; I could feel the searing power of his gaze. I didn't dare turn around.
I scrunched down in my seat, futilely hoping that if I made myself smaller, he would stop staring.
It didn't work.
Glancing sideways at Angela, I saw her uneasiness as she fidgeted in her seat, casting occasional frantic glances over her shoulder at the boy behind me. Our nervous eyes met a few times, Angela merely shrugging to show that she didn't understand what was going on any better than I did.
As his staring continued, I felt myself beginning to panic. My face was suffused with the deepest blush I could ever recall. My hands began to shake, and I felt perspiration dripping down my forehead and the back of my neck. My heart pounded in my chest, and I was feeling increasingly light-headed.
As my pulse jumped again, I heard a muffled curse behind me, and a rapid swirl of air as the boy rose to his feet and rapidly exited the room via the second door at the back of the room.
"Mr. Cullen? Edward? Where are you going?" called Mr. Mason after him.
But Edward Cullen left the room without acknowledging the teacher in the least, slamming the door behind him.
I hope you enjoyed Chapter 9 and that it was worth the wait. I ignored all other work this morning and sat here to draft this chapter before anything else today, despite deadlines, a very sore and congested nose and nasty cough, and three boys to homeschool.
Please do REVIEW! I live for reviews and reply to each one!
Thanks for reading! Love to you all!
-Cassandra:)