I.

"Daphne."

Drowned out by the sounds of waves crashing against rocks, the almost eighteen year old held out her hands to feel the chilly, salty spray of the Pacific Ocean. Cooler than she was used to, but not altogether unpleasant, she opened her eyes to take in the overcast sky, her eyes drifting out to gaze out at where the sky met the ocean. She'd lived on the Pacific Coast for her entire life, but it wasn't until recently that she'd come to appreciate the calmness the ocean provided her. Inhaling slowly, she felt her shoulders relax—the soft wind felt nice on her face, although it did cause goosebumps to form on her exposed forearms.

"Daphne."

A different voice, one that was unfamiliar, but somehow comforting at the same time, echoed from somewhere behind her. However, the comfort didn't last before a large wave splashed up and into her face. The sudden sensation of being able to breathe and then suddenly not was not something Daphne ever wanted to experience again. She opened her mouth to do anything—to breathe, to scream, to gasp, but nothing came out as she felt her body being pulled under. Suddenly the water didn't feel as nice, didn't seem as perfect as she felt her feet tumbling over her head—

"Daphne!"

Daphne Blake sat up in bed, her eyes wide and her chest heaving as she struggled to remember where she was. In her aunt and uncle's house, not on the beach. In a bed, not in the water. With her annoying cousin hovering over her, not alone with a stranger.

"Geez, Mike," Daphne shoved her cousin away from her as she threw the duvet off and swung her legs off the bed, "crawl right in, why don't you?"

Mike Newton rolled his eyes, his hand holding onto the strap of his backpack as he took a few steps back, giving her the space she requested. "Mom's been calling your name for the last five minutes. She sent me up here to see what's taking so long. School starts in like half an hour."

"Shit." Daphne grabbed onto the alarm clock teetering on the nightstand to see that her cousin was, in fact, telling the truth. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?!"

"How is this my fault?"

"Get out," Daphne shoved Mike towards the door, the younger boy stumbling through the doorway as Daphne grabbed onto the side of the bedroom door. "I'll be down in two seconds."

"Somehow I doubt—" Mike's sentence was cut off as Daphne closed the door in his face, all while pulling off her old 9th grade Track & Field t-shirt and making a beeline to the closet for a change of clothes.

Her aunt had insisted on taking her shopping in Port Angeles for warmer school clothes the weekend before since "it's not warm year-round like it is in SoCal."

Daphne was almost sure she'd never cringed so hard before as she stood in the middle of a local thrift store with her aunt talking about "SoCal." Shaking her thoughts away, she threw on a soft, long sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans, roughly ran a brush through her hair, and grabbed her well-loved pair of shoes before stumbling out of the guest room of the Newton house. A room designed in shades of beige, her Aunt Karen had promised her that she would be allowed to decorate it "anyway you want! We'll get paint, new curtains, a nice fuzzy rug…"

Daphne hadn't the heart to tell her she'd only most likely stay with them until graduation.

"Daphne? Everything ok?" Her aunt's concerned face peeked up at her from the bottom of the staircase, dressed in a pair of jeans and a Patagonia pull over, her aunt definitely looked the part of a small-town sporting goods store owner.

"Yes, sorry," Daphne took the stairs two at a time, nearly stumbling into her aunt as she reached the bottom, "I guess I didn't set my alarm last night. I must've dozed off reading before I was able to."

"You should still be ok," Karen Newton turned over the tiny gold watch on her wrist, a gift from her husband last year for their 20th wedding anniversary, "although, I don't know if you'll be able to eat much breakfast…"

"Not a big deal!" Daphne crossed the living room and slipped into the kitchen where Mike had just finished drowning the last of his orange juice. "I'll just eat something on the way!"

"Don't even think about getting crumbs in the Ranger."

"How would you even tell?" Daphne countered as she grabbed an apple and a granola bar that her aunt and uncle kept in a bowl on the kitchen table, shoving them both into the open zippered pocket of her backpack.

"I'll have you know—"

"Have a great first day!" Karen interrupted her son, shooting him a look as she opened the back door and stepped aside to let both teens exit the house. "Oh! Should we take pictures? We should take pictures, shouldn't we?"

"What?" Mike adjusted his backpack again before frantically shaking his head. "No, mom. No pictures. We need to go."

"It'll only take a second, Michael."

By the time Karen had located the camera and walked them through the proper poses, the pictures actually took seven minutes, with Mike announcing the time every minute. After what felt like the 20th photo, Daphne picked up her own backpack and waved, "I think we need to go, Aunt Karen…"

"Yes. Yes, of course," Karen ushered them towards Mike's 1994 Ford Ranger, watching as her son climbed into the car first, "have a great day! Happy first day of school!"

Mike swore under his breath as he started the car, his eyes anxiously zoning in on the clock, "hopefully the lights are on our side."

"All two of them?"

Mike rolled his eyes as he backed out of the driveway, "there's actually three stop lights in Forks now. FYI."

"I beg your pardon."

Mike gave a small laugh as he shifted the truck into drive, the tires slushing against the wet driveway, "put your seat belt on—you of all people should know better."

Daphne froze mid buckle, her eyes staring straight ahead. She felt her shoulders stiffen, now fully aware how cold and damp it actually was this morning. She barely heard the sound of her safety belt clicking, her fingers letting go of the belt. Did it suddenly get stuffy in the car? The sound of her heartbeat began to fill her ears, a spike of panic pressed to the back of her neck and Daphne was fairly certain she might start sweating and shivering all at the same time.

"I—I didn't mean it," Mike's eyes were wide as he fumbled over his words, his hands gripping the steering wheel anxiously, "I didn't even think—Daph, I'm so—"

"Just drive, Mike," Daphne hoped her voice sounded steadier than it felt as she pulled her jacket tighter around her before folding her hands awkwardly in her lap.

"Daphne—"

"It's fine," Daphne didn't move her eyes from the road, "it's not a big deal."

"It is a big—"

"Mike," Daphne faced her cousin, realizing for the first time that Mike looked like a kicked puppy, his blue eyes wide as he stared at her. "I'm fine. It's fine. Please, just drive. I don't want to be late on my first day."

Mike only nodded as they set off for school. The rest of the drive was painfully silent, the only sounds were Mike's turn signals as he made first a right and then a left into the Forks High School student parking lot. He found his unofficial spot near his friends' cars, spotting his friend group hovering near Tyler's van.

"With two minutes to spare."

"Thanks for the ride," Daphne was out of the car faster than Mike, her backpack over her shoulders as she closed the door behind her.

"Daphne," Mike called to her as he scurried after her, "I can walk you—"

"I'm good," Daphne didn't even bother looking over her shoulder at her cousin, "see you after school."

"Daph—"

Daphne's only response was a quick wave of her hand that she managed to do without turning her body, the girl disappearing into the school only a moment later. Mike sighed, his shoulders dropping as he closed his door and locked the truck.

"Mike?" He turned his attention towards Jessica Stanley, the pretty girl he'd been dreaming about sitting in his parents' new hot tub with for the last three months, "was…that your cousin?"

"Yeah," Mike slipped one strap onto his shoulder as he joined his group of friends, "that's her."

"She seems…nice?"

"It was a rough morning," Mike shifted from one foot to the other, "what'd I miss? Any pre-school drama?"

"Only if you count the Cullen's showing up in a BMW today."

"Seriously?" Mike's eyes were wide as he glanced over towards the shiny red BMW that Angela Weber pointed towards, "wow, that's a really nice—"

The warning bell that signaled class was about to start interrupted him and with one final look towards the cherry red sports car, Mike turned and made his way into Forks High. "Do you think you'll introduce us to your cousin after school?"

Mike fell into step with Tyler Crowley, already well aware that his cousin would eat the junior alive. He was already painfully aware of Lauren Mallory's head whipping around at the sound of another girl's name before she recovered and looped her arm through Jessica's before the two made their way to their lockers.

"She's not been very talkative," Mike warned as he stopped off at his own locker, Tyler leaning against the one beside his, "but yeah, you'll probably see her after school."

"No disrespect or anything, Newton," Tyler clapped him on the shoulder, "but your cousin's a bit of a babe and I gotta get my place in line sooner rather than later before I miss my chance all together."

"And she's also not interested in dating." After this morning, the least he could do was try to prevent some attention from going Daphne's way, if at all possible. "What's your first class?"

"Ugh," Tyler fished the wadded up schedule out of his pocket, "Spanish, you?"

"Chemistry."

"At least we've got history," Tyler slipped the schedule back into his back pocket, "listen Mike, what do you think about giving your cousin my num—"

The tardy bell echoed throughout the hall and Mike wasn't sure he'd ever been so happy to hear it as he and Tyler quickly went their separate ways.

Much like the Forks High School bell, about 16 miles to the west, down the 110, a similar bell was currently going off at the Quileute Tribal School. Just as Mike and Tyler, as well as most of the Forks student body scrambled into their classes, the students in La Push were doing the same. Jacob Black and his friends Quil Ateara V and Embry Call made their way into their first class of the day, Embry tossing a hacky sack towards Jacob as he walked through their English class first. "Rematch after school, Black."

"You're on, Call."

Across the school, Kim Connweller slipped into her own seat in her senior history class. The class was almost full, with just last minute students trickling in. She knew from listening to her older sister and her friends talk that Ms. Whitehall would no doubt have "computer issues" for the first ten minutes of class. So instead of rushing to make sure she had everything she needed, Kim took a few extra minutes to glance around the classroom for a friendly face. All of the faces were familiar, she'd been in class with most of them since kindergarten, but only a few were friendly. Her neighbor, Beth, sat in the back corner and shared a table with her friend Abby. Kim waved and Beth smiled in return, it was unspoken between the two friends that Kim would try to leave the seat beside her open for her long-time crush, who always seemed late nowadays, to sit beside her. So far, over the four years they'd had this plan, it hadn't worked. But Kim was hoping this would be her year.

However, Kim's hopes and dreams were crushed as Paul Lahote entered the class room just as the bell sounded again. Always on the edge of being late, Paul waltzed into the room, his eyes scanning the class for empty seats and familiar faces. Kim had heard from Beth about Abby and Paul's ugly breakup last month, so she would have put money on Paul avoiding that side of the room like a plague. But it wasn't until his eyes landed on Kim that she knew this would not be her lucky year.

Paul crossed the class, glancing over his shoulder at their teacher who had yet to acknowledge anyone yet while she furiously tried to log-in. "Hey, Connweller," Paul swung his backpack off his shoulder and flopped down in the seat beside her.

"Paul."

"I'd say nice to see you, but you've got the face of a slapped ass." Paul lifted a hand to brush away some of the nearly shoulder length hair out of his face. Unlike most of the boys in school, Paul's hair wasn't pencil straight, and instead fell in a slight wave over his ears, "who pissed in your cereal?"

"Lovely as ever, Paul."

"I try," Paul swung his legs around and turned his full attention to Kim, "so, what's bugging you?"

"At the moment? You."

"You wound me." Paul rested his hand over his heart before leaning back, "does it have anything to do with all of the Mrs. Jared Cameron's you have scribbled on the inside of your notebook?"

Kim instinctively pulled her notebook closer towards her, frowning over at Paul, who was currently sporting a growing grin that could only be described as "shit eating."

"Why are you here?"

"My waters don't run that deep, Connweller."

Kim breathed deeply through her nose, her eyes lifting up to the dropped ceiling as she mentally stopped herself from braining Paul with her notebook. "I meant," Kim released the breath she'd been holding, "why are you sitting here? In this seat?"

"Oh," Paul glanced around as if it were obvious, "where else am I going to sit?"

"Literally anywhere else, Lahote."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Paul!" Kim's hands landed on her desk a little louder than she intended, but the rest of her thought died on her lips as she noticed her tired classmates turning their attention towards the middle of the classroom where she and Paul sat together. Shrinking down in her seat, Kim could feel her cheeks warming as their teacher even lifted her eyes over her computer towards them.

"Miss Connweller, do you have something you need to say?"

"N—no, ma'am."

"I'm almost done logging in, and then we'll begin class shortly," Ms. Whitehall announced, "in the meantime, please take a look at your textbook and familiarize yourself with the units."

"Smooth."

"Paul, I'm getting so close to kicking you."

"Speaking of Cameron," Paul turned his head around, taking note of all the students in their class, "where is he?"

"How am I supposed to know?"

Paul gave her an unimpressed look before turning back around in his seat, "do you really want me to answer that?"

Before Kim could reply or convince herself that she had the guts to kick Paul Lahote, the classroom door opened and in stepped Jared Cameron. Kim nearly did a double take, she'd always been attracted to Jared, that much was clearly obvious and not as secretive as she'd hoped, but the way Jared's newfound muscles strained in his t-shirt, and the way his thighs filled out his pants, Kim thought she might very well faint. Beside her, Paul also seemed to be at a loss for words as they watched Jared all but slink into the classroom, his once long black hair cropped short to his head as he found his way to the empty seat in front of Beth and Abby's table.

"Geez," Paul finally voiced as he turned back around, the rest of the class still eyeing Jared as he continued to keep his head down and his eyes focused on his desk, "looks like Jared finally found the weight roo—ow!"

"He's literally like ten feet away from you," Kim hushed him, "do you have to be so rude all the time?"

"I wasn't rude earlier!"

"Oh, that was you being nice?"

Paul huffed a laugh as he turned his body and attention back to the front of the class as their teaching stood from her computer, removing the glasses that were resting on the tip of her nose, "well, it looks like I'm going to have to call IT," she circled around the desk and reached for the chalk resting in the tray before scribbling 'Welcome to Senior History,' on the board. "If you don't mind turning your books to page 28, we'll begin our semester there."

Sometime between gym and her Senior English class, Daphne found a few quiet moments in the girls' bathroom. Relishing in the silence, Daphne took her time washing and drying her hands, even glancing at her reflection in the mirror as she did so. She looked tired, the dark circles under her eyes painfully obvious against her rapidly paling skin. She'd never thought of how much sun Forks, Washington did or didn't get, but now that she was here, and not home in Los Angeles, it seemed to be all she could think about. Inhaling slowly through her nose, as her grief therapist had taught her, she held it for a few beats before releasing it just as slowly through her mouth, her rapidly drying lips parting to form a very small o shape.

She'd just managed to take in another deep breath when the bathroom door swung open and probably the most beautiful girl—woman—she'd ever seen in her life stepped in. The woman, who had perfectly curled air combined with a flawless complexion and skin that could only be described as porcelain, came to a stop as her piercing gold eyes zeroed in on Daphne. She didn't say anything, but Daphne thought she spotted one of her sculpted eyebrows lift ever so slightly.

Daphne wasn't one to feel incredibly awkward around people, but she did suddenly get the urge to run, to get out of the bathroom as quickly as possible. Previous anxiety forgotten, Daphne reached down to grab her backpack before making a quick, and what was sure to be the most ridiculous exit of her life. With the bathroom door closed tightly behind her, Daphne kept walking down the hall until she passed the cafeteria, the double doors that led to the outside world within site when—

"Daphne Blake?"

Daphne came to a stop just a handful of feet away from the exterior doors. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, get a breath of fresh air? Leave school? Pitifully stand by Mike's car until he was done?

"Ms. Blake?"

"Daphne's fine," she took a few steps forward, her eyes catching the plaque beside the door that read Counseling Office. 'Perfect,' Daphne inwardly groaned as the older woman smiled patiently at her.

"I'm Ms. Gerald," the woman said as she motioned Daphne into the office, " I just wanted to introduce myself—I'm the school's counselor. I'm here to help with any academic questions, interpersonal issues, and higher education support."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." Ms. Gerald took a seat behind the desk as Daphne slowly lowered herself into the chair, "how are you liking your first day so far?"

"So far so good."

"And Forks?"

"It seems like a nice town." Daphne's eyes zeroed in on the open notepad that Ms. Gerald had on her desk, her hand reaching for a pen nearby.

"Probably a little different than Southern California, I'd imagine?"
"A bit."

"Your transcripts are very impressive," Ms. Gerald scribbled a few things down onto the legal pad. "I have to say, I'm a little confused about the classes you chose."

"Confused?"

"You were in the top 10% of your class and a starting member of the varsity soccer team," Ms. Gerald turned her full attention to Daphne as she looked up from the legal pad, "but you have no AP classes on your schedule and when I spoke to Coach George she said that you didn't have any interest in the soccer team."

Daphne wasn't sure what answer Ms. Gerald was looking for, so she opted to remain silent. If there was one thing she'd learned over the last six months, it was that most people were unnerved by silence, and if she stayed quiet long enough they'd eventually start talking again.

"I know the circumstances surrounding your transfer are less than ideal," Ms. Gerald continued, "but I'd hate to see a talented, smart student waste her final year of high school."

Daphne brushed off a bit of imaginary lint on her jeans, her eyes flickering over to the three diploma's that hung on the wall—high school, undergraduate, and graduate. "With all due respect, Ms. Gerald," Daphne said, "I'm just trying to settle into a new school."

Clearly Daphne hadn't given Ms. Gerald the answer she'd been looking for. "Well, since school just started, I am able to help transfer you into different classes if you'd like. I did see here that you have two letters from your former high school for early admission to Stanford—I'd be happy to help you set up a checklist and we can discuss what you need to insure you reach the November deadli—"

"I'm not seeking early admission to Stanford anymore."

"Oh." Ms. Gerald's pen wavered as she looked over at Daphne curiously, "did you have another school in mind?"

"Not at the moment."

"I see." An awkward silence settled and while Daphne tried to figure out what she could say to get out of this office as quickly as possible, Ms. Gerald continued, "Daphne, I know what happened in March was a terrible tragedy, and you have every right to feel however you're feeling. I'm so sorry you had to experience that, but I'm not sure shutting down and distancing yourself from your old life is the best option. You've worked so hard, you're quite literally at the final stretch—"

"I appreciate the concern," Daphne found herself shifting into a standing position, once again reaching for her discarded backpack on the floor, "but right now I'd just like to get settled and see how I land. If I have any questions, I know where to find you."

"Can I at least give you a brochure?" Ms. Gerald was already rifling through one of her desk drawers before Daphne could decline, and a moment later Ms. Gerald stood to walk Daphne out of her office, placing a brochure in her hand as she did, "I'm always open to speak to students during school and after school with an appointment."

"Thank you, Ms. Gerald."

Daphne did her best to leave the main hallway as quickly as possible. She could feel the tears in her eyes threatening to spill, cloudying her vision as she made a left away from the main hall and then the first right she could, pushing through a set of double doors. She expected to find herself outside, or at the very least in the parking lot, but instead she suddenly found herself in a darkened corridor, one that just screamed "you can cry here!"

So she did.

Daphne leaned heavily against the wall, her backpack falling in a heap beside her feet as she buried her face in her hands. She cried for numerous reasons, but most of all she cried out of exhaustion. She hadn't slept well in weeks—months even. She didn't remember the last time she slept without dreams—nightmares. She was just so tired. Giving herself another moment, Daphne's quiet sobs shifted into silent sniffles as she wiped her tears on the sleeve of her jacket. She'd just nearly composed herself when a door on the other end of the short hallway opened and in stepped a tall figure in black, the silhouette definitely male.

A few steps towards her confirmed her assumption as a tall, lanky boy with short wavy hair stared at her curiously, "please tell me you're not waiting for the auditions."

"The—what?"

"Auditions for the school musical. After school? Today?"

"No. Definitely not."

"Are you here for the sets?"

"The sets—no."

"Then why are you backstage?"

"I didn't even realize I was backstage." Daphne reached down to grab her

backpack, "I'm sorry—I must've made a wrong turn down the hall."

The guy didn't say anything and instead just watched as she gathered herself and her things and made a move towards the doors she'd rushed through just a few minutes before. "You're not the first person to cry in this hallway."

Daphne paused near the doors before glancing over her shoulder, "I'm sorry?"

"Look, I don't know why you're here, or even who you are." The guy took a few steps towards her, "but we're always looking for people to help with set design. You get out of two classes and can usually use it as an excuse to escape," he motioned towards her, "whatever or whoever it is you're upset about."

"I have zero artistic ability."

"Can you hold a paint brush?"

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Hopefully more very soon, reviews are definitely encouragements! (Even if you didn't like it, but I hope you did!)

:)