Moonglow
1 Monday Morning Blues
Monday morning comes around, and here in Forks, a small town in the wettest region of North America, it comes cloaked in driving rain and dark skies. But, as they say, somebody's loss is somebody else's gain. My whole family loves the local weather.
And the ways we differ from common people don't end there.
The three thousand souls or thereabouts that populate, so to speak, this forlorn corner of the country are probably busy, right now, struggling to emerge from the shelter of warm quilts, cooking bleary-eyed breakfasts, having quick showers, or already splashing past omnipresent puddles and clambering into their vehicles.
Sleep and breakfast, or even warmth, are needs I and the rest of my family do not share with humans. We are vampires, and our life has little in common with their endlessly repetitive routines.
We have our own habits and tendencies of course, but they are dictated by our whims, or the circumstances that make us who we are, rather than biological necessities. Except, of course, for our infrequent hunting trips to feed on the blood of wild animals.
As a result, I sit on top of a rock, free from worries about breakfast or even having to rouse myself from slumber, and watch the turbulent waters of an unnamed mountain creek froth and rumble below me. I've spent the whole night here, under a vault of clouds drifting along their pathways in the sky. It always relaxes me to sit still while the natural world's unending cycles unfold around me. Sometimes it even helps me forget how different I am from all the living beings that populate these ancient forests. I've lived a long life, and it will most likely last a lot longer, but even among my kind I'm too different to fit in at times. When you don't even have to sleep, you have to fill your life with as many joys, however small, as possible.
Alas, while it's true that human routines mean nothing to me, I do have my own inescapable obligations. On a cloudy Monday morning, I share one of the duties of the fragile boys and girls now probably crawling out of their beds; it's time to go to school.
Not that I really need to…. I may be seventeen according to my ID card, but throughout my unnaturally long lifespan I've also accumulated more advanced degrees than my classmates would ever dream of. Most of my teachers could learn a lot from me, if anything. But, when we move to a town, or, like in this case, return from a long absence, we like to fake we are young enough to go to high school; it allows us to stay put in one place longer.
None of that is very common among vampires, I muse, which probably makes us freaks among freaks. It's all a matter of dietary habits and lifestyle; they hunt humans, and we don't. They like to roam, and we choose to live a sedentary life, as much as possible. We have our needs, and our ethics. What is life without empathy for other humans? Our heart may have stopped beating, but we refuse to give ourselves over to the darkness of ignoring the morals and conventions that, at times, make life on Earth tolerable.
Speaking of darkness, the tedium of another school day is at hand. I stand up, sigh, reluctant to abandon my moment of symbiosis with this tiny, forgotten corner of the world, and run back home, where I quickly change into fresh clothes and then meet my siblings downstairs; I drive all of us to school despite the Monday morning blues weighing on our still hearts.
A few hours later, I'm sitting at our usual table, the Cullens' table; the one nobody outside our family will ever dare approach. The five of us always sit together, all by our lonesome. The humans don't know the true identity of the monsters lurking among them. They have nothing to fear from us, under normal circumstances, but they still try to keep their distance. It's true that we have shown little interest in them and that we welcome our indifference, but we really have no choice; excessive familiarity with the local kids could lead to the kind of trouble that has forced us to skip town before.
Besides, these are just children. We have lived so much longer. It's hard to find them interesting at all. This morning, for example, all their minds were full of thoughts about the new guy about to join us. It's the middle of the semester, but he's the son of the local chief of police and he lived in Phoenix most of his life. For whatever reason, he's moving in with his dad and he will attend classes at Forks High from today. To the simpletons around us, it all sounds so exotic.
I shake my head, my long hair rustle against the smooth leather of my jacket. Mortals are so predictably foolish at times, their childish minds filled with romantic notions of being already infatuated with the mysterious newcomer. I see his face in the minds of some of his classmates. A slim kid with brown hair and faded green eyes; as unremarkable and ordinary as any other member of their species. And yet, girls who met him wonder about his curt replies, fretting over every nuance of his reactions, and the ones who haven't have been busy sculpting dreamy images of a tall, dark stranger that would more easily belong in a fairy tale than an actual classroom; they'll be so disappointed when they finally spot him.
I return to focus on the rest of our family. Alice, my sister and closest sibling, tiny and yet gracefully spunky as usual, is sitting as close to her boyfriend as common decency allows. She looks as relaxed and at ease as he looks tense, his features drawn and haggard. Jasper, the man she loves, is new to our vegetarian lifestyle ad he needs to work on his self-control. As of today, we have already been fasting for three weeks. We can often manage to feed only once a month but it's not easy, and on Jasper the strain is telling. Behind his longish blond hair, his eyes look restless, apprehensive
Emmet, his massive frame blocking from sight most of the window behind him, sits next to Rosalie, his mate for several decades and a blond goddess that unerringly attracts the coveting stares of all things male in the school. Once again, the silly mortals could all be her prey, and yet they ogle her any chance they get. It's pathetic.
She's beautiful, of course, but her looks are too sharp, unnatural, and yet none of them sees past her hourglass figure and golden locks. Even in their love life, and despite their pretenses of individuality, they tend to act like sheep. Emmet guffaws at something she said, but I'm not interested; she's as shallow as you'd expect someone with her looks to be. We usually get along, would fight to protect each other, and even share some interests, but we've never been truly close.
I go back to looking at Jasper.
I wonder whether I should read his mind. I usually try to give my family as much privacy as I can; over the years I've learned a few ways to limit my natural mind-reading abilities. I scoff and shake my head, partly to imitate human behavior and partly as I realize that Alice and I are even weirder than vegetarian vampires… We are freaks with gifts. I can read minds, and she can read the future.
To be honest, my talent is one of the things that make this half-life filled with high school humdrum slightly bearable. At times like this, I can tune out most of the thoughts buzzing about the cafeteria, but they're somewhat present, in the background, like the rushing of a nearby river, its sounds muffled, impersonal. And I can let glimpses of those thoughts seep into my own mind, reminding me of the simple joys of humans who haven't had to turn to predators to survive some adverse twist of fate. It's not as relaxing as sitting in nature, since I have to keep my gift somewhat dampened, but it does remind me a little of my previous life and brings some solace to the endlessly painful knowledge that, despite appearances and our desire to blend in, we don't belong here, sitting among creatures that nature intended as our prey.
Alice looks in my direction, but she's relaxed. She doesn't foresee any trouble. Jasper forces a smile.
"I'll be okay," he says, possibly trying to convince himself. "But tonight…."
"Don't worry Jazz, we'll go hunting." She whispers so quietly nobody without our superior senses could hear it, especially in a noisy cafeteria. I nod in their direction, acknowledging the wisdom of her words. He's not ready to endure the long fasts we are accustomed to. Why take unnecessary risks? I don't say anything out loud, though; I know he resents being treated like a weakling.
From the tenor of the few thoughts that drift within my grasp, I'd say the newcomer has finally made his entrance. The others notice too, even though they don't react, that the buzz of conversations has somewhat shifted gears as the boy and the kids he's hanging out with take their seats. I recognize one of them, Jeff; I usually avoid his mind and his depraved fantasies about my sisters and me. The only time he approached me, in real life, I turned him down so harshly he won't try it again, at least not in this lifetime. I hear a girl I never paid much attention to ask him about Arizona and some of his answers, and go back to listening to a different kind of drone, one nobody else in this room can perceive, while I peer at cracks in the plaster that covers the wall and imagine fractal patterns in their jagged lines. It helps with the boredom and reminds me to shift position frequently, like humans do.
"Pay attention, guys," Emmet says, his voice low but still clear in my ears; "it won't be long now. The new kid has asked his friends about us."
Yes, he's right, I think as I snap out of my mild trance. A blond kid named Mike is telling him about our weird family and I sense the thoughts of the girls as they prepare to join in the gossiping.
"Ladies and germs," Emmet intones with a sinister smirk, "time to place your bets."
Ah, yes, time for another one of the mechanisms we have developed to fight the potential ennui of a long, at times directionless, life: betting on any event whose outcome we cannot predict with certainty; even a small thrill is better than nothing when you have as much free time as we do.
The bet he's referring to is straightforward enough. Since we are all very attractive, courtesy of the venom that turned us into vampires, there is one constant reaction we can always count on whenever new students become aware of our existence: questions about the glamorous kids sitting at our table, inevitably followed by shyly-voiced inquiries about the most attractive, in their eyes, among us. Typically, females can't help drooling over Jasper's easy charm or Emmet's massive body and strong features, while the males, naturally, gravitate toward my sisters and me, often unable to hide the clumsy depravation of her adolescent sexual fantasies. There have been exceptions, like the time a rather tough-looking girl spent several hours devising ways, in her imagination, of slowly undressing Rosalie, but they are rare.
My mind reading could help determine the result of our bet, as could Alice's skills, but we have a gentlemen's agreement we won't use our gifts; it would ruin all the fun if we just won every time.
As it is, though, I ponder in a sudden bout of despondence, the bet won't be much fun regardless. Over the years I've certainly been the object of several erotic dreams, but it's also true that I've never been the first girl the newcomer inquired about. Not even once. I don't mind it in the slightest; on top of all the things that make me different from my siblings, I also don't share, or even understand really, their romantic attachments. Love, or lust, have never had a place in my life and I'm glad that's the way it is. Love, especially, seems so messy, at least from what I gleaned about it from movies or the minds of humans I ran into. I will never understand why it brings so much drama in their life. Can't they see how fickle they really are? How their thoughts, and so called loves, will alter course with every shift in the wind's direction? Why do they take themselves so seriously? At least I know only one; among humans, I ran into other minds, although rare, that do not hold any of those desires.
Our bet doesn't have many possible outcomes for another reason: while the venom makes all of us attractive, Rosalie's beauty is a sun that easily overshadows mere stars like Alice and me. If that wasn't enough, there is also the fact that both Rosalie and Alice always wear clothes that maximize, albeit in a restrained manner, their beauty and their sex-appeal. Everything, from their sophisticated hairdos to the stylish clothes clinging to their body like a second skin, is designed to captivate any straight male with a pulse that happens to wander in our vicinity. I, on the other hand, barely brush my long hair and the clothes I let Alice select for me are, while a little tighter than I'd like them to be, rather casual and unrevealing; they're meant, if anything, to actively evade attention of that kind.
"He looks weak," Emmet mumbles, still craftily assessing his bet. "But I don't think he's gay; his clothes are too shabby. My money is on Rose."
Rosalie just nods; we all know she wouldn't bet on any other than herself, as long as the new students are males (and she has often stuck to that strategy even when girls were involved since the Vanessa incident).
"It's a sure thing… why even waste time on all this…."
"Don't forget I was chosen twice last year, dear sister." Alice trills with an impish smile, blithely disrespectful of Rosalie's tight grimace. "He looks sensitive. I think he'll pick me; he seems too smart to go for the perfect blond in our midst."
I stifle a laugh; for a second I thought Alice was going to say 'the dumb blond in our midst'. If I'm honest with myself, that would be closer to the truth.
"She won't forget that, sweetie," Jasper croons in response. "She sulked for months when that happened. It was pretty pathetic, actually."
Rosalie doesn't bat an eye at that; the topic irks her but we are all accustomed to some good-natured ribbing. The ways we fight our boredom are endless, but sometimes they're not enough.
"Well," I state calmly, vaguely conscious that he's soon going to make his choice. "If I have to play this game, I'll play to win. My money's on Rose as well." As if there could be any doubt about the result; my siblings still vastly underestimate the human inability to think independently.
I look up at the ceiling, imagining more patterns that aren't really there, when we all hear his words.
"Who's the girl on the right?" He asks no one in particular.
Wait, that means….. me?
"She's a Cullen. Lynn. She's beautiful, right?" Jeff replies. I can read in his mind that he's also a little surprised. He must have noticed that most guys only have eyes for the blond amazon.
Alice laughs. Rosalie snarls and looks daggers in his direction. Jasper and Emmet shrug at each other, clearly puzzled.
"It looks like nobody wins today, Lynn. You missed a chance to take all our hard-earned money." Alice is kidding; only our father has ever done any paid work and he's not the reason we can afford our lavish lifestyle. Turns out our tiny clairvoyant is pretty good on the stock market. But I'm still a little stunned, and the conversation isn't over.
"Yes." The boy says simply. I keep looking at the ceiling, all of a sudden less certain that humans are always boringly predictable. But to ask about me, despite the scorching beauties sitting right next to me… Strange, to say the least.
"But don't get any ideas about her in that Arizona-head of yours, dude." Jeff continues. His clothes rustle; he's probably leaning closer to him, whispering in his ear. He doesn't know we can hear a pin drop on the highway, half a mile from here.
"She's your typical stuck-up princess. Nobody's good enough for her majesty…."
When I hear that, I can't help smiling. Yes, I know he also calls me the ice queen, but I'm glad I was right; he'll never forget the way I shot him down. Good.
But now I'm a little curious about this odd boy that has defied all expectations, and I decide I want to have another look at him.
When I turn in his direction, my eyes meet his. He was staring at me. Oddly enough, I shudder for the briefest of instants.
I was wrong; his eyes are not faded. They're a light shade of green, darker at the edges and so clear, in the center, that they remind me of the surface of tropical emerald waters, limpid and pure and yet speckled with blurry, indistinct shapes. They seem so open and inviting, innocent, yet expressive, unable to fully conceal the thoughts roaming his mind like shallow fish, navigating deep yet clear waters.
Surprised our eyes have locked, he briefly panics, his eyes wide and possibly dazed, and then, just as I frown, bothered by something, he wrenches his gaze away from mine, embarrassed about being caught watching a girl he has never met, his skin already turning a delicate shade of pink.
I think of the soft contours of that sudden blush, the blood pooling in the vessels just below his thin, soft skin, and a low growl I choke in my throat tells me maybe I've also been fasting for too long. I should be making plans to go hunting with Alice and Jasper tonight, but something else has hit me like a sledgehammer and now drives logical thoughts away. When I looked at the boy and our eyes made contact I should have heard his thoughts in my mind; in that kind of situation I would have really had to make an effort to not sense what he was thinking. Yet, there was nothing but silence. I couldn't hear a thing. Not one single word.
I shift in my seat, starting to feel uncomfortable. This had never happened before. It certainly can't be happening now. Edgy but still resolute, I keep staring at him, trying to find a way to unravel the mystery of his silence, but still get no results.
Almost frantic now, and drawing worried glances from Alice and Jasper, I scan other minds in the vicinity. Rosalie, of course, has paid me no notice; her mind is still filled with curses about the obtuse boy that dared to overlook her. It's been quite a shock for her. Alice is worried about Jasper again, and the minds of the kids at the boy's table seem to hover between admiration and spite as they tell him about us. My talent seems to work just fine, and yet, from the spot where the boy sits I still hear nothing, zilch, nada. It's very nearly shocking.
"Jasper Hale, the blond guy, is with Alice Cullen, the short girl." Jessica, one of the silly girls who woke up earlier than usual today to be prepared for the arrival of the stranger, chirps quickly, eager to discuss high school romance. "And the blond girl is Rosalie. She's with the big guy, Emmet."
"Wow, he looks built for football. He must be on the team, right Mike?"
Emmet manages to keep quiet but he looks bothered. He'd love to play football on the team, but if he did we would have to leave Forks soon after and we really like it here. It wouldn't be much of a challenge anyways. He could probably defeat entire teams by himself, but he loves sports.
"No. Apparently he doesn't play football. Actually, none of them play any sports here at the school. Their parents often take them out for hiking and camping trips." Jeff, his mind now inhospitable as he starts to spin new daydreams that involve a very compliant Rosalie.
"That's why they agreed to let them skip gym, or so I heard." An Asian guy tells him. "Hi, I'm Eric." He adds, addressing him. The new guy introduces himself, not that he really has to; the whole school knows he's the son of the chief of police.
"So, have they lived here their whole life? I used to spend the summers in Forks, as a child, but I don't remember ever seeing them and they don't strike me as forgettable."
He asks his friends, still curious about us.
"They just moved in a couple of years ago, from Alaska. Doctor Cullen, their adoptive father, is a surgeon at the hospital." Jessica explains. I can read, in her mind, that she doesn't find him that attractive after all, but he's the new guy and she wants the popularity that comes with hanging out with the latest addition to our student body. How shallow, I think, suddenly upset. Instead of trying to find out more about him, she's just filing her head with idle constructions spawned by her own selfish desires.
I feel a little uneasy about the content of her thoughts, and almost laugh about it, uncertain of where that even came from. I should probably try to figure it out, but I'm still distracted. His mind is still utterly unaffected by my gift; for the first time in a hundred years, I do not know what a person in front of me is thinking. I don't have the faintest clue. This is all so new to me. If it wasn't so unnerving, I'd probably enjoy it; wasn't I complaining that high school was nothing but boredom just a few short minutes ago? Funny how quickly things can change.
"I see." He says tersely, making me feel inordinately frustrated. In his eyes I see ripples, probably caused by feelings he's not sharing with his new friends. I try to fight off the growing curiosity for the thoughts so weirdly hidden from my perusal and my unhealthy desire to find out everything my talent cannot discover for me; this is all so pointless, I say to myself, wondering why I even have to think this way. He's just another human. I bet his mind, behind this supernatural wall of silence, is just as empty and trivial as the heads of his classmates. I have to put an end to this sudden craving to get to know him. This is the kind of human curiosity we cannot afford.
My siblings and I stand up and head to class. I notice, as we leave, that the strange boy is blushing again, embarrassed by something they said at his table, something I wasn't paying attention to. I imagine stomping on my curiosity one more time, like some people might snuff out the flames of a dying fire, and follow Alice out of the cafeteria.
If all that's happened wasn't strange enough, I wonder whether I will have a chance to talk to him in person. This is all so bizarre. I don't know what any of it means, but I don't like it. Alice notices I'm scowling, but I shake my head. We'll talk about it later; it's time for our first period of the afternoon and I trudge, unwilling, to my biology class. I don't know it for sure yet, but even though I don't have Alice's powers I have a sudden, laughable premonition that my life might never be the same. Yeah, right, as if that was even possible.