|Chapter Two|

FORKS HIGH

Mrs. Cope was none the wiser when I had given her my surname, she merely ushered me forward before she rolled her desk chair, she was sitting in, towards the filing cabinets behind her. The front office assistants, a couple of the seniors, glanced at me with intrigue. I knew they would make sure everyone they would come across would know they had met Isabella Dupont first and wonder why a French girl had changed her schooling, along with the country she would live in to somewhere so remote such as this town.

Mrs. Cope handed my schedule to me, along with a map of the school (she highlighted a path for me to know which building to go to along with where the cafeteria was), and a strip of paper for me to have each of my teachers sign by the end of the day. I thanked her before I walked out of the front office, my eyes taking in the students that were heading towards their classes. There weren't any expensive cars (Maman always made sure we would have average priced cars; she didn't feel as though we needed people trying to steal our cars or try to gain our attention).

I had barely started walking towards my first building of the day, building 3, when I stumbled into someone. I hadn't been paying attention, having been too busy looking around and taking in the environment. I flinched as the tall, corn blonde haired girl in front of me stumbled also—she turned around with vengeance in her eyes. She was tall, taller than me, and she hissed at me, "what the fuck is your problem?"

"Désolée! (Sorry!)" I quickly remarked, making the girl frown, while the girl next to her turned her head to the side. Unlike her friend, who was frowning and quite sour, this girl was more interested in the situation than her friend.

"Wait, you're the new girl! Right?" the brunette probed, earning a nod from me. "Don't mind, Lauren. We all have clumsy moments! I'm Jessica, you can call me Jess."

Jessica was staring at me with a hopeful expression, one that made me weary. Unlike me, she was wearing a simple green long sleeve cotton shirt, dark washed jeans, and some stylish boots with fur trimming on the top of them. A black jacket was draped on her shoulders, making her even smaller. She was a little shorter than average but the mane of brown curls on her head made her have an extra inch or two in height.

"I'm Isabella, you can call me Bella, either or."

Lauren, sensing a enthusiastic attempt of Jessica gaining a friend in me, frowned and cleared her throat. "As much as this is nice, we need to get to class, Jess. Coach Clapp said if I'm late for any more of my classes I'll be benched."

Jessica pouted, "okay, fine. Um, hopefully we will have some classes together! Oh, and I'll find you in the cafeteria so you can sit with our friends!"

Jessica's arm was grabbed by Lauren's hand, which had clamped down onto it, before she was pulled away from me. I wasn't insulted with this, I had just arrived at the high school after all, it wasn't as though it was my goal for me to gain any friends on the first day of school. I had other things that I was focused on, such as getting used to American Education instead of French Education.

I trailed after them as I entered Building 3, which was the English Literature department. My eyes ran over all the different posters that were on the painted brick walls, of all different types of authors. I personally never cared much about American authors, most of my authors I loved happened to be European. I was a bookworm, so Maman always made sure to buy me endless amounts of novels, sometimes she would give me her first edition copies. I treasured them all, whether they were the latest copy of a novel, or it being the first edition.

As Jessica and Lauren entered the classroom I was supposed to enter, I took a deep breath, before stepping forward. A tall, balding man stood in the front of the classroom, leaning up against his oak desk, so this must have been Mr. Mason. There weren't many student desks within the room, partly because of how small this town was. I could already tell that my schools back in France had either the same number of students or a little more, never a drastic amount of either or. It comforted me, though I knew I was awkward standing there in the front of the classroom, off to the side of the teacher's desk.

The man turned his head, as though he sensed me standing there. "Ah you must be my new student, Miss Dupont, am I correct?"

I nodded my head before I stepped forward, in the corner of my eye I noted how everyone perked up when they heard the foreign surname. I wouldn't be surprised if they would ask me to say something in French for them, but I wasn't their entertainment. I wasn't going to talk in French all the time in order to have friends. Maman taught me better than that.

Handing him my slip of paper Mrs. Cope had given me for him to sign, he signed it in a flourish, before he handed it back to me. "Would you prefer to sit in the front or are you fine with sitting in the back?"

Jessica was bouncing in her chair when she heard this, I was certain she would make sure I would sit next to her, but I knew I would only be able to deal with her for short bursts.

"I can sit in the back, Maman taught me English when she was also teaching me French," I assured him, earning a nod from Mr. Mason.

An irritation came over me as the students around me leant forward in their desks, so they could hear what I would sound like. I kept looking forward at Mr. Mason, not on the students who had nothing better to do than stare at me as though I was a new addition to an exhibit. If Maman hadn't taught me to be ladylike I would have shot them the bird or spat at them in French.

After being handed one of the English textbooks, I went towards the back of the classroom. A foot stuck out to trip me, but I jumped over it, giving an unimpressed glance over at Lauren. She narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything, apparently, she didn't like a new girl in school. I didn't know if she was feeling threatened by me, but she was obviously showing her level of maturity. She was acting as though she was in a young adult novel, trying to intimidate the new girl with her alpha female attitude. Well, she would have to try harder.

Sitting down at one of the desks in the back, Mr. Mason cleared his throat before he picked up his expo maker and began to write down all the different authors we would be studying for the semester on the front white board. Without hesitation I began to write down notes, though Maman had made sure I would learn a lot of famous authors from all different type of countries. Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Faulkner were all authors I was used to reading. Bronte and Shakespeare being my two favorite out of the four.

I focused my attention on the lecture, it was the only thing that kept me grounded. My shoes kept clicking against the linoleum flooring. My eyes would glance over at the windows that looked out to the student parking lot, where now that I looked closer, I could see a silver Volvo. Ugh. I didn't want to meet whoever the pompous asshole was that owned that car.

As soon as the bell rang for class to end, I gathered my things together quickly before rushing out of the classroom. I had barely left the building when another student popped up. A gangly boy, with skin problems, oil black hair, and slightly slanted Asian eyes.

He blushed as he reached his hand up and ran his fingers through his hair. He was wearing his backpack with only one strap; it was worn out and was duct taped some. He also had on a foreign television show logo on a graphic shirt he had put on at the last minute today. He looked as though he had woken up late and missed his alarm.

"Hi, I'm Eric, um, I was wondering if I could walk to you your next class?" Eric peered at me with excitement, I sighed and went to tell him no but then realized it was his choice if he wanted to walk me to my next class. I shrugged and he grinned before he glanced down at my schedule to see what building I should be heading to next.

"You're in Building 6, Government with Jefferson. Two buildings after mine, but I should have time to get you to your class before going back to mine," Eric mused before he glanced up.

I dreaded having to go to Government. I knew the minimal for American Government growing up, but I knew I would be a loss cause. I could only hope this Mr. Jefferson would end up not being a hothead.

Mr. Jefferson was standing outside of his classroom, waiting for me. I stepped forward and handed him the piece of paper he needed to sign. He gave me an arched eyebrow look before he took the paper from me, used his clipboard to hold it, and pulled out his pen from above the clip of the board. He signed it before he handed it back to me.

"Wait by my desk, and I'll give you your textbook," Mr. Jefferson instructed, while I went into the classroom.

My eyes took in all the different posters that were on the walls, of American Presidents and the Declaration of Independence. It was odd, alien like to me, I knew Maman was thinking of me when it came to moving here but I was missing France a lot more than I imagined as I stood here. I didn't want to be stared at, but it was to be expected. I was the new girl in school, even if part of the reason why everyone was staring at me was because I was French (I was just shy of having the citizenship though, if I was 18 and still in France, I'd officially be legally French).

Mr. Jefferson must have sensed my unease of properly learning American Government, because he made sure I would sit directly in front of the teacher's desk in the front row of the class. Mr. Jefferson cleared his throat a few times when he saw me writing in French as I was taking notes, enough when the class ended, he asked to see me after class. I dismissed the sounds my classmates made as though to scare me for being called to stay after class.

Mr. Jefferson made sure everyone had left the classroom before he sighed and leant up against the teacher's desk. He took off his reading glasses, making sure to close the temples of the glasses before tucking them into his front pocket of his dress shirt. He cleared his throat before he spoke, "Miss Dupont, I'm certain that you know an average amount of American Government as any other French person. I'm fine with you asking me questions but I noticed you were writing your notes in French."

I nodded my head before I said, "Yes. Mr. Mason saw the same thing, but he said that it was fine. As long as anything I turn into him for a grade is written in English then he doesn't care." Mr. Jefferson rolled his eyes, mumbling about how Mr. Mason wanted everyone to be his friend when his job was to teach them—not socialize with them.

"Yes, well, that is Mr. Mason's class. In here, in my classroom, you will write in just English. Do you understand me?" Mr. Jefferson probed, as I bit my tongue. I knew it would be best to cool my thoughts, knowing Maman would be upset if I contradicted what my educator wanted me to do—especially over something stupid like this.

"I understand, Mr. Jefferson. I'll make sure to write only in English from now on in your class," I assured him, before I left the classroom. I tightened my arms around my spiral notebooks, while my jaw clenched. Too bad I didn't have locker, (I didn't feel as though I needed one), or else I would open it and scream in there to let out some stress.

Trigonometry was my next class, so at least I didn't have to write that much. I just had to put numbers down. It was the good thing about math, even if I couldn't stand math, at least it was a universal language. I wouldn't have to worry about Mr. Varner keeping me after class like Mr. Jefferson to tell me whether I could write my notes in French. I only had to worry about Jessica snagging the spot next to me so she could try and gossip with me during class.

Spanish was a nightmare for me. It was a beginner Spanish class though, so at least I was with other teenagers who didn't have a clue how to speak Spanish. I couldn't do French, that would be cheating. Mrs. Goff was more than accommodating, apparently, she had lived in Mexico for a couple years after college with her husband. It took a while for her to get accustomed to living in America again, but it was worth the experience and being a part of that culture.

As soon as Spanish ended, another class I shared with Jessica Stanley (it didn't take long for me to learn her last name, she always seemed to interrupt class with gossip or eagerness to prove she knew the information), Jessica waited for me to finish getting my things before she took my arm in hers. She waved goodbye to Mrs. Goff, who rolled her eyes and said goodbye, before she tugged me in the direction of where the cafeteria was.

I was mentally preparing myself for the excessive amount of sound I would have hit me when I would enter the cafeteria. I didn't want to be in a building where everyone came together to eat and socialize together, especially when the said conversation and socialization would end up being about me. I didn't want to sit around a large table with a good bit of people pestering me about what life in France was like and who my family was. I could only imagine their faces if they learnt about me being the missing daughter of Charlie and Renee Swan, along with being adopted by a French vampire.

"Wait until you meet all my other friends. I know you met Lauren, but I promise she'll come around. There's Angela Weber, she's on the Yearbook Committee with Eric Yorkie. Along with—" Jessica stopped when we reached the cafeteria doors. She giggled and blushed, "I'm sorry, I'm doing it again. It's just we don't get new students that often."

Thankfully, as we entered the cafeteria, we were immediately greeted with a group of teenagers at a round table, which was almost in the center of the cafeteria—waving at us. Jessica pulled me in the direction of where her ragtag group of friends were. I smiled shyly when I was in front of them finally, my eyes landing on Eric Yorkie, having forced myself not look at Lauren as she frowned at the sight of me.

"It's good to see you again, Eric," I greeted him before my eyes landed on the Asian girl that was sitting next to him. Her glasses were slipping down on her nose, but she quickly pushed them back up her nose. She was wearing a graphic long sleeve sweater with a plaid button-up shirt over it and a coat over that. Her mittens were next to her cafeteria tray of food.

"Hi, I'm Angela Weber, you must be Isabella." Angela smiled at me, before her eyes went down to the camera that was wrapped around her neck. She was scrolling through it before she glanced up. "Do you mind if I take a picture? I don't have to."

As I opened my mouth, to tell her it was fine, I flinched when a loud thump came next to me. My eyes fell onto the American football on the table. My eyes went to the pale hand and upwards to the person that owned the football and hand. A boy, who hadn't grown out of his baby fat, was staring at me with a smirk, eyes filled with excitement. He had a Varsity football jacket draped over one of his muscular shoulders, though the high school logo spread across his sweater let me know he was one of the football poster boys of the school. The gelled back blond spikes on his head only made him look like a freshman, not a junior like the rests.

"Hey, you must be the new French girl. I'm Mike, Mike Newton." Mike held out his hand for me to shake but I shook my head, "no thank you. My name is Isabella, you can call me Bella if you wish. I think I'm going to get something to eat now."

I hurried away from the table, shaking my head, before I reached the cafeteria lunch line. I grabbed one of the plastic containers of premade salad, along with bottle of orange juice. I blushed as I reached the lunch lady to pay for the meal, my anxiety of being accustomed to another currency almost overwhelming me. I took a deep breath before I paid her the correct amount and went back to the table where my new eager friends were, well that was stretching it, but I did want to have friends here. So, I could have had worse people to be my friends here (Lauren wasn't or wouldn't even a friend of mine, we were only connected through Jessica).

Sitting down, I opened my plastic premade salad container, and picked up the little container that held the sauce. I had barely begun to pour the ranch sauce into the salad when someone sat down on the other side of me. I didn't have time to say anything before the guy took my hand and kissed me on the wrist, while saying, "Bonjour", as though that would be something I should immediately be charmed about or flattered about because I was French!

Without hesitation I yanked my hand away from his lips and slapped him across the face, "Comment oses-tu! (How dare you!)"

Silence hit the cafeteria before a rush of conversations began and people started taking pictures on their phones of the teenage boy's face. I narrowed my eyes at him before I spat, "Don't you ever do that to me again."

The boy blushed and put his head down again, "I'm sorry, I just thought since you were French you would be charmed if I did that. I hope you can forgive me, I'm Tyler, Tyler Cowley. You're really pretty."

I studied the Black boy, before sighing and shaking my head. "Just, sit down, not next to me, please. Don't talk to me, if I want to ever talk to you again, you'll let me talk to you first." Tyler nodded his head before he took his tray of food and sat down on the other side of Mike, since he had taken the left side of me and Jessica had taken the right side.

An awkwardness still resonated around the group of teenagers. I sighed and began to eat, hoping that school would end so I could go home and question Maman's decision to moving here. I would rather we have stayed in France. I still didn't see the significance of staying here.

I was grumpily eating my salad when Jessica whispered, "oh my god, here they come! Bella look, the Cullens are coming in."

I frowned, wondering why that last name meant a lot to me. I slowly turned around in my seat, my eyes landing on the first Cullen to enter the cafeteria.

A tall, beautifully figured girl with golden wavy hair that cascaded down her back to her hips, stalked forward with ill temperedness resonating in her golden eyes. She almost looked as though she had been air brushed or was a living marble statue from one of the greatest sculptures. She was wearing a top-of-the-line crimson blouse with designer jeans and high heeled leather boots. A crest necklace was tied in a ribbon around her neck, it must have been the family crest she was showing off. She reminded me of Aphrodite.

"That's Rosalie Hale, she's a senior. Her and her twin, Jasper, were adopted by Dr. Cullen. He fostered them after his wife's sister, and husband passed away in a car wreck, before he adopted them. He moved here with his family from Alaska two years ago. Him and his wife are super young though, in their late twenties or early thirties," Jessica whispered to me.

"Oh, and that guy she's next to, his name is Emmett, a senior too. Him and her are dating."

Emmett Cullen was a big guy, with a weightlifter vibe to him. Dark brown curly hair fell in a mess around the top of his head. He grinned brightly as he swaggered forward next to Rosalie Hale, emitting nothing more than confidence. He was holding a bag of boiled eggs in one thick and muscular hand, and a baseball cap was on sideways on his head. A jersey jacket of one of his favorite baseball teams was over a gray sweater, looser fit jeans and tennis shoes finished off the look.

The other sister, Alice Cullen, came in next, skipping. She was short, extremely short, and thin in the extreme. Her deep and dark hair was cropped, which in return made it look as though it was pointed in all different types of directions. Her style of clothing was more unique than her siblings' clothes, since it was based around the Gothic Lolita style. Said style and dark hues brought out the paleness of her skin even more. Her shoulder blades almost seemed to stick out of her skin. I wondered if she had troubles with anorexia or bulimia in the past. It only made them more noticeable because she was wearing a matching ribbon crest chocker like her sister.

For some odd reason, when I saw Jasper Hale, I felt a wave of sadness come over me. I was interested in how he seemed as though he had high levels of anxiety seeping out of him. His golden eyes, just like his siblings', were scanning anyone and everyone around him. It reminded me of someone with schizophrenia, or any other mental disorder, where they were there but not at the same time. His canary curls fell to his shoulders and shielded him some. He was dressed the most similar as most of the other boys in the school, a little more on the high fashion side like the rest of his siblings, but nothing that seemed to catch too much attention.

The last Cullen appeared, the lanky and less bulky of the three boys, with an air of indifference. His hair was untidy, and he had bronze-colored hair with a few pieces threatening to fall in front of his eye. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his gray pea coat, which covered a dark sweater, designer jeans, and some nice designer boots. He paid attention to all that was in front of him and when he sat down next to his sister, Rosalie, I couldn't help but wonder why the hell Maman had brought us to where the Olympic Coven always seemed to come back to.

"Merde! (Shit!)" I spat, in anger, my fingers clenching together, as I thought of the Cullens. Of how their leader of the Coven, Dr. Carlisle Cullen, believed he was the first Vegetarian vampire, when in fact it happened to be Maman who was the first Vegetarian vampire.

"Bella, are you okay?" Angela probed, her voice softer than the others, enough that I couldn't help but smile at her. "I'm fine Angela."

My eyes flickered back to the five vampires across the cafeteria from me. It didn't surprise me when I noticed all of them staring at me. Rosalie with her anger filled eyes had her manicured fingers tapping against the top of the cafeteria table, trying to assert her dominance over me. Emmett waved at me with an eagerness of a young child, Jasper gave one look at me before he looked down at the top of the table—his hair a curtain, shielding me from his face. Alice was staring at me with a longing, nothing romantic or sexual, which let me know she was hoping I would decide to become friends with them. Edward though, he was staring at me with the upmost anger I had ever seen.

I turned away from him, not needing to look at him any longer or the others and turned my attention to the teenagers sitting around me. As they started to tell me anecdotes of their childhood and of the town to try and have me embrace them, all I could think about was how there were five vampires sitting across the cafeteria.

There were eight vampires (including Maman) that were residing in Forks, Washington.

author's note: Twilight doesn't belong to me

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. :)

-Emmy

edited: 12/18/2021