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Chapter I - Purple
"So tell me again, Miss Beauregard, why you thought it fit to try and paint the cafeteria ceiling to suit your tastes?" Principal Johnson asked, leaning forward and regarding the girl sitting in front of him sternly. She stared straight back at him, face blank her colourless eyes wide and unblinking, meeting his gaze head on, looking like she was staring straight through him, as opposed to at him. The girl was weird, he thought to himself. He never did feel completely comfortable being in her presence, especially with that unnerving stare of hers.
Edgar Beauregard was once again in the Principal's office, for the nth time this school year, yet again, being apprehended for 'vandalising' school property. It was a common enough occurrence, and always for the same reason. Normally she saw something (a wall, maybe the lockers or sometimes the floor) she thought needed improvement, and immediately set to work to try and change said object -consequences be damned. And always, a teacher would catch her red handed (sometimes quite literally) before sighing and dragging her to the school office, where Mrs Cope would take one look at the girl, shake her head in resignation and send her right into the Principal's office.
This time, it was the cafeteria ceiling that had been victim. Edgar had been casually going up her day, ditching class as she frequently found herself doing, not a care in the world aside what her next project would be, when she walked into the large lunch room, took one look around and smiled widely at the prospect of completely transforming the dreary hall into something bright and lively. And so, with the goal of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel ceiling in mind (which she was sure she could copy quite efficiently), Edgar raced to the Art room, hauled buckets of paints back to her starting point, placed a chair on a table for leverage and gotten started, wasting no time.
She had gotten about halfway through when a Lunch Lady had entered (intent on starting to place the lunch dishes forward) and saw her. It was no surprise that the poor old lady had gotten quite a shock and had let out a loud gasp, dropping the tray of cucumbers and tomatoes in her arms, creating a loud clang in the empty room. Edgar, who had been so intent upon her work, had been startled by the loud sound causing her to jump slightly, and the already shaky chair she had been standing on to give out completely, resulting in the poor girl falling and spilling paint everywhere.
And her current situation in the Principal's office.
Edgar stared at her principal, watching as he shifted and squirmed, seemingly uncomfortable for some reason, and wondered idly if she should ask to draw him, in order to be able to capture his expression. She would pay him for it, of course, so he shouldn't be very opposed to agreeing if it meant he would gain something.
Her hand twitched for her backpack seated on the floor by the leg of her chair.
It would be very fast, and would only take her…seven minutes, four seconds, give or take. She could visualise it already. It would be in black and white, she'd use a 9B pencil for his hair, maybe a 2H for his grey highlights, she'd outline his broad shoulders with a 7B pencil, draw the creases of his shirt with a normal HB, she'd also make sure to get the shadows under his jaw done correctly, and the background would be simple to add in. Really, it would be an entirely quick affair.
Edgar inwardly nodded to herself in acceptance, before opening her mouth to make her request. Principal Johnson narrowed his eyes at her knowingly.
"I hope you're opening your mouth to explain your earlier actions. If not, then don't bother at all young lady." He stated tersely. It wasn't the first time he dealt with the girl, and he knew her very well by now.
Edgar's mouth closed without a word.
Like most other times she was brought to him, she didn't understand what exactly she had done wrong, because surely trying to improve the school by making it more aesthetically appealing couldn't be bad could it?
"I don't understand why I am in here Principal Johnson. I was simply trying to change the dreary tone of the cafeteria, and I'm sure most students would thank me for it." Edgar said honestly. She watched in growing confusion as the Principal's face turned an impressive shade of mauve and heard him suck in a deep breath, before crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, forehead creased and brows furrowed deeply.
Principal Johnson, for his part, was fighting the urge to reach into one of his desk drawers and pull out his flask of whiskey. Dealing with Edgar Beauregard always incited such reactions. The worst part was that she was truly oblivious as to what she had done wrong, like always.
"Miss Beauregard," he started in a shaky voice, trying to control himself, not that it was working much. "Detention for the rest of the week, after school." Johnson stated. He frowned deeper when Edgar shook her head.
"Sir, I already have detention this week. You'll have to reschedule for next week." She informed him in a completely level tone, and Johnson swore his tension just flew through the roof.
"And why, exactly, do you already have detention?" He asked her in a tight voice. Edgar simply shrugged.
"I'm not very sure myself Sir. I don't think Mr Varner likes the colour 'red' very much, because he gave me a detention for painting his desk. I tried to argue that it was not, in factred, instead a very light Pecan, but he didn't want to listen." She told him, sounding like for all intents and purposes, Varner was the one who was being absurd. Johnson rubbed his temples in a vain attempt to fight of an impending headache. Yes, he remembered that, when the teacher had stormed into his office after school to complain about the girl. He wasn't the only one either, frequently teachers walked into their classrooms only to find a completely different coloured wall or ceiling. It was about time he did something about it.
Johnson sighed loudly. "You know what, Miss Beauregard?" He started wearily, and Edgar tilted her head to the left, looking at him in confusion. "I won't give you detention. Instead I'll just call your father to see me after school. Hopefully we can find a solution with him here." The Principle declared finally.
Edgar, of course, didn't understand. "A solution to what, Sir?" She asked innocently. He scowled heavily and pointed forcefully to the door.
"Just get out of my office."
Edgar Beauregard was sitting in a tree.
It was a common enough occurrence, nothing to sing to the heavens about, anyone could tell you that. Perhaps they'd also comment on how high up in said tree she was, and how she was crazy for sitting in it in the first place since it was currently raining, but other than that, not much else would be said about the matter. Not that said person's opinion mattered much, for they would have been ignored, and probably gone unheard by the subject of their thoughts.
It was lunch time now, and while most of the Forks High students were comfortably nestled within the walls of the cafeteria (and wondering why in the world the ceiling looked like a half-done painting), Edgar had opted to sit outside and finish a quick drawing of the forest behind the school. The rain was easily brushed aside, the thick cover of the leaves shielding her from it and she found the cool weather relaxing.
She contemplated idly to herself, if she should bother colouring it in, since so far it was just a plain pencil drawing (it was not in fact, plain at all, as to another person's eyes it would be considered quite spectacular, however to Miss Beauregard, it was just a 'rough sketch'). She could perhaps use her favourite Andradite coloured pencil to colour in the underside of the leaves, maybe Sard for the browning leaves…And she was sure she could also get the texture of the bark just right if she used her 0.7mm pencil.
She was almost finished shading in the shadow of a particularly tall Fir Tree when the wind took to blowing in her direction, ruffling her pages so much that she could no longer draw effectively. Waiting out the breeze wasn't an option either as the sky grew more ominous and thunder rolled, signalling the impending storm.
Edgar sighed in resignation and started packing away her things quickly, before making her way down the tree. Climbing down in record time (proof that she had done so numerous times before), she paused at the base of the tree.
She wasn't sure if she should just head through the cafeteria which would give her a direct route into the school, or just go around the building and end up in the parking lot. Edgar didn't very much like large crowds of people, she found them too noisy to properly concentrate in, and the lunch room was a perfect example full of chattering and laughing teenagers, eager to be given a brief reprieve after classes. However, the rain was picking up quickly and heading around the building would most probably get her caught her in it, therefore drenching her and her supplies completely. Normally, she wouldn't care about getting wet, but she didn't want her hard work ruined just because she didn't want to enter the same vicinity as her fellow human beings. Mind made up, she quickly jogged her way across the large grounds of her school's lawn and pulled open the backdoor to the cafeteria.
Now, some people might call it fate, or others might call it destiny, or simple luck, but little did she know that by choosing to go through the cafeteria instead of around the school like she normally would have done had it not been raining, her life had changed forever.
Edgar, oblivious to this turn of events, walked inside the building, wrinkling her nose slightly at the loud noise, before closing the door shut behind her. Now she had to find another place to complete her drawing, she thought as she walked across the linoleum floors, clutching her supplies tightly to her chest and dodging excited teens.
She could probably try the Art room, perhaps Mr Brogue would let her use it until the end of the lunch period. That's all the time she would need to complete the drawing either way. Approximately six minutes, thirty four seconds to be precise. She was slightly troubled that she hadn't taken one of the leaves from the tree to help with vein work, but if she remembered correctly, she had a few old leaves she had used in the past still sitting in her bag. Maybe those could work, although, they would be limp and dry by now and easily breakable. They wouldn't suit her purposes completely, but she could make do-
Edgar paused mid-step, her senses tingling. Her father loved to poke fun at her and call them her 'Beauty radar', because every time she got the feeling, she ended up stopping and drawing something in the immediate vicinity. Edgar hardly ever paid his good-natured teasing any attention, but she could acknowledge the small truth in it. She looked up from the ground where she had been staring and looked to her right, trying to see what had made her stop, but she didn't see anything aside from more tables occupied with students. Nothing particularly inspiring there, she thought.
When she looked to her left, however, she got her answer.
There, sitting at a secluded table in the middle of the lunch room, where five beautiful, incredibly lifelike sculptures. She could compare them to statues built lovingly by an Old Italian artist, who'd have spent years slaving over each and every detail, every nook and cranny. They must have been extremely expensive. The most prominent of them were seated in the two chairs directly in her line of sight – a male and a female. Edgar inspected the first one, tall, with Champagne locks, skin like milk, and eyes like honey-enviably beautiful, and if Aphrodite existed, she'd probably look like her. Edgar felt a vague pang in her chest upon seeing her, for she was reminded of her mother. The male next to her was masculine as she was feminine. His arms and torso –which were the only portions of the statue visible- were muscled as if he were a rival for the statue of Farnese Hercules. His curly onyx hair was cut short, and she thought it seemed almost out of place when compared to the overt masculinity of its build.
There was another male next to him, with wavy, dirty blond hair. He was leaner than the other statue, though the sculptor still managed to convey the impression of strength. If he were to be compared to a famous sculpture, Edgar would choose Discobolus, for he seemed to be the perfect embodiment of Rhythmos. Next to him, was a petite, pixie-like girl. She too was beautiful, but in no way could she compete with the Aphrodite look-alike. She was small, smaller than the others. Even her features, though sharp and elfin like were small, comparable to the Angel of the Oneto Tomb.
And lastly, was a final male. Edgar thought that if the first blond female was modelled after Aphrodite, then he was Adonis. He was gorgeous, and she had to commend the sculptor for being able to so clearly convey such beauty through marble. He was just as pale as the rest of them, and not even Edgar could properly pinpoint the colour of his hair, for one second it looked bronze, then like rust, then dark gold, then all of them at once as if his hair was constantly ablaze. His eyes were topaz, a slightly lighter shade than his female counterpart. He was muscled, but leanly so, and not unlike the blond male. All in all, they were all breath-taking, and though they looked different, they were all similar in some ways, like the vaguely there dark bruises under their eyes, or there pale skin, though that was obvious since they were carved statues, and their eyes, all similar in shades yet completely different.
She blinked in surprise for a moment, before letting out a thoughtful hum. Perhaps the Principal had taken her words about how dreary the cafeteria was to heart and had attempted to insert some life into the cafeteria, though she vaguely wondered why such amazing pieces would be in a high school instead of an Art Museum in Europe. They seemed priceless. Of course, as a whole, they were a different sort of art Edgar would have thought belonged in a high school, for she would have expected colourful paintings of various sorts, but in the end they did well enough, she supposed.
Like always, the prospect of being able to draw such beautiful objects filled Edgar with a sense of excitement, and already she began to visualize the finished product in her mind. It was the type of project that needed careful and meticulous planning, and sadly would not be finished in one day. That is, if she were to draw all of them at the same time. She decided she would just focus on the Aphrodite look-alike, mostly because she genuinely did remind Edgar of her own mother, and then perhaps the next day, she could start on them as a collection.
And then suddenly the pixie-like one moved, shifting in her seat to look straight at Edgar with a bright smile, and Edgar was startled to see that they were not in fact, sculptures at all, but instead then were real beings. Adonis looked in her direction seconds later, with a small frown on his face, as if he were thinking about something confusing.
And so Edgar did the only logical thing in such a situation. Well, logical to her at least, because we all know that normal logic does not apply to Edgar Beauregard.
She promptly turned on her foot and changed course, heading straight towards the table full of beautiful people.
Now, a normal person would have taken in the fact that for some reason, the tables around the beautiful people were completely empty, and the would have felt the unapproachable aura the seemed to emit and would automatically be deterred from even entering the same five foot radius as them, however, Edgar wasn't normal, so she didn't sense the aura, and though she saw the empty tables, thought nothing of them.
And if she had bothered to pay any attention, she would have noticed that the whole cafeteria had gone silent, watching as she approached them with disbelief, because nobody every dared do that, oh no, it was an unwritten rule to never bother them.
Once again, Edgar was unaware of this, and she gave them a giddy smile when she arrived at their table.
"Hullo," She greeted, smile still in place and looking straight at the blond female, who merely watched her with a raised eyebrow. "You're very beautiful. I like beautiful things. Your hair is flaxen and shines golden in the sunlight I'm sure. You remind me of my mother actually. She was very beautiful too, even more so than you are, but of course, I might be biased because she's my mum. I'd love for you to meet her, and I'm certain she'd love to meet you too, but the problem, you see, is that she's dead. Though there is a certain charm in death as well I suppose…I find that most females between the ages of thirteen and thirty-seven don't like being compared to someone's mother, but I think it's a compliment, and if you'd met mine, you'd think so too." She rambled with a thoughtful look on her face, oblivious to the horror filled looks of students behind her and shocked ones of the table she stood at.
"Anyway Beautiful-Female-Who's-Name-I-Do-Not-Know-Nor-Really-Care-To-Learn, I came over here because I was wondering if you please let me draw you. I love art you see, and you remind me of an Ancient Grecian statue, in fact, I think you might just be Aphrodite herself, but as I have no proof, I will not dwell on that. It'd only take exactly six minutes twenty-seven seconds of your time, and I'll pay you for it. You'd get to keep it after, I only want the pleasure of drawing you. Will you let me?"
The Aphrodite in question -whose name was actually Rosalie Hale and was one of three females in the Cullen family- gave her a long assessing look, processing her words and contemplating if she should allow it. She ignored the dumbstruck looks of her siblings next to her, thinking a long moment, before nodding once. She found herself interested to see what this dreamy black-haired girl could produce, and she saw no harm in humouring her.
And so Rosalie watched as the girl let out a small exclamation of excitement, her grey eyes shining brightly, before quickly dropping into the one empty seat left at their table, before quickly leaning down into her bag, extracting a well-used Sketchpad and a case full of pencils.
Edgar set to work immediately, pulling out a 6B pencil to start with and flipping to a blank page, before her hand set to work. The original occupants of the table watched in amazed fascination as her hand moved expertly around the paper, the picture quickly came to life as she drew, each detail captured even better than a camera photo could do. The background was added in, the lighting somehow replicated, and soon enough, after she picked out a few other pencils, colour was included. As promised, the whole thing was completed in exactly six minutes, twenty-seven seconds, leaving them with an unnervingly life-like drawing of Rosalie Hale.
Edgar smiled in satisfaction once done, ripping out the page from the whole book and sliding it to her subject, along with a hundred dollar bill she had seemingly pulled out from thin air. Soon, her things were packed up once more and with one last dreamy smile sent their way, she calmly turned on her heel and basically floated out of the silent cafeteria, leaving to stare after her in shock.
And that's how Edgar Beauregard met the Cullens.
