Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer.
Chapter 3 (BPOV)
Eating meals with Charlie was super weird.
That's the word I finally settle on while driving to school Monday. After having a few I felt like I can accurately describe the experience and it was weird.
The fact that we ate together at all was weird. Maybe it was just that. Maybe it was how he asked me a couple of questions, then just finished his potatoes and asked me if I still liked cobbler. The diner he says we used to go to still sells it. Depending on the day of the week, we can get peach or mixed berry. With ice cream.
Yeah. Maybe it's that I haven't had a sit down dinner or a sit down anything in some time. Maybe you have to learn how to act around someone again when it's been so long since you've been in the same room.
I smooth my hands across the worn leather wheel of the truck and peered through the wipers and rain at the road. The light here is always changing. Somehow it's yet a different shade of green today. Blue-gray-green and almost all faded out.
Our dinner with the Blacks was also strange. I couldn't remember either of them, which seemed to disappoint the son. The father was kind of inscrutable but he and Charlie had that nice and easy friendship you see on sitcoms. It was cool. And the ramp finally made sense after I saw him wheel Mr. Black into the house.
I'm not used to the attention or people's faces falling when mine doesn't light up in response. My word for school this afternoon is probably going to be weird, too. I sincerely hope I never made mud pies with anyone else in this town as an eight-year old. It's the first day, so maybe I won't be the only new kid here.
The school is pretty small but looks nice. Almost everything does, all nestled in the forest like this. There are only a few buildings, all red brick. One's obviously a gym, metal siding and large windows. At least I won't get lost much.
I park in the lot and let the engine idle for a few minutes, holding my hands at the warm vents and breathing slowly, slowly, focusing on my fingernails, the little bit of skin on my left thumb that's peeling, the tiny spec of blue polish that's still there after two months.
The lot is almost full of cars. A few stragglers pull up and run toward the doors out of the chilling spray.
Before I follow them, I dial Renee.
"Hey mom, first day of school today. It's still raining here. Hope the weather's good there. Love you."
Slamming the door behind me, I head toward the first building, reasoning that it will probably have the office, and if not, I can head straight back to the truck having given it my best shot. Great plan, Bella. You go, girl. Forks will be different, huh?
Quicksand. Just remember the rules.
Pavement's pavement, until it's not.
I center the heavy black hood of my parka and shoulder my backpack more firmly.
There are definitely a lot of looks. Yep. Nothing I can't handle. I shove my hands a little further into my pockets, picking at the skin of my thumbs, clench my stomach muscles a little harder. Ignore the fluttering, soaring, escalating fizz in my veins. Ignore the pounding, pounding of my heart.
We're good, I see a sign for the office hanging over a door. I breathe in and walk through, trying on a normal-seeming smile.
"Hi," I say to the chubby, red-haired receptionist, "I'm new here, I think I'm supposed to check in? I already got my schedule in the mail but I wasn't sure about if y'all have a list for my teachers to sign or anything since I'm a junior."
"Welcome to Forks High!" she says enthusiastically, "I'm Mrs. Cope, the assistant might see the head honcho, Mr. Greene, or me manning the desk here. We're a small school so we don't have much need for a full-time receptionist. You're actually one of only two new students this semester!"
Wonderful. Hopefully the other one is more freakish than me.
I keep smiling, feeling rain droplets dripping from my hood into my hair. The buzzing is a little louder and the smiling a little more forced with each word from the red-haired lady. I press my thumbnail into the pad of my finger as hard as I can. It helps.
"Your dad told us all about you! I know we all feel like we know you already, you'll fit in just fine."
Don't really know why she thinks that's helpful or a good thing but I know I'm supposed to feel welcomed so I smile bigger.
"Anyway, here's your slip, get your teachers to sign in then come see me at the end of the day."
I try not to be too grabby when I take it from her and not to walk too fast out of the door but it's a huge relief to get out and I breath a little better when I'm in the halls again. Until I remember that everyone stares. I fix my gaze somewhere above the heads, noting room numbers as I make my way toward my home room, number 7.
The teacher doesn't try to "welcome me", thankfully, he just signs my slip and tells me to sit wherever. I pick a seat on the left side closest to the door in the middle. Not too close to the back to be weird but close so there aren't too many hidden eyes on me and I can get to the door quickly if I need.
The bell rings just as I sit down and the teacher starts talking right after so the kids next to me don't have the chance to say anything to me.
The English syllabus is simple enough. I've read all the books already and most of the poetry. I tune out the rest of the first day introductions and focus on the dents I've made in my fingers from all the pressing and count in multiple of eight as far as I can go. I manage to get my shoulder muscles to relax by the time the bell rings again but give up on my legs.
I'm out of the door before the dark-haired boy sitting next to me can finish working up the courage to speak.
Government, Trig, and Spanish are about the same. I can't relax completely or get the shaking to stop all the way, but I don't expect to and settle for regulating my breathing.
The same dark, curly-haired girl sits next to me in Trig and Spanish. The teacher makes the class pair up and practice greetings.
"Hola! Buenas días! Me llamo Jessica," she says, holding out her hand.
I shake it as quick as I can without offending her.
"Soy Bella, mucho gusto."
"Wow, your accent is like, really good. I don't think I know moo-cho goo-sto. So, how are you liking Forks? When did you get here? Have you ever been here before? What's it like where you're from? Wait, where are you from? Arizona, right?"
She says this all in one breath, hands spread out eagerly on her desk, dark curls bouncing all over. I lean back slightly in my chair and blink.
"Sorry," she giggles, "I'm just excited to meet someone new."
"Yeah, Arizona. Forks is nice, I haven't visited since I was really small but it all seems the same."
"The curse of the small town, we're pretty much in a bubble here," she laughs, "but it's nice! We're all friends, mostly. We've known most of each other since kindergarten."
"That's cool, I've only lived in big cities with huge schools. Places like that you can go years without meeting someone."
The teacher calls the class to attention. I'm shaking a little bit more and clasp my hands under the table to keep it from showing. Four-second breath in, four-second breath out. I do a little dance in my head, that was a great conversation, I'm proud. Mini head Bella wipes an imaginary tear from her eye and gives a thumbs-up.
We're busy with syllabus stuff the whole class but Jessica starts talking as soon as it's over and doesn't stop as we walk to the cafeteria. The library would be a much better place to spend the period but I don't want to be rude so I just follow. I want to try to be normal here and hanging out in the library my first day won't do me any favors.
When we get there, I scope out an empty table and start walking toward it.
"Bella! Food's this way," says Jessica, waving at me.
There's no way I can eat anything but I grab a diet soda and an apple when we go through the line. Jessica chatters the whole time but I can't keep up.
The lunch room is small, only 1/6 of the size of my last school. Most people are dressed the same, it doesn't seem like cliques are a big thing here, not really any goths, skater, jocks, or scene kids. There's a lot of cross-table communication, as well, people bending in their seats and getting up to talk to others across the room.
Jessica leads me over to a table close to the door we came in. There's another door on the other side of the room and big floor-length windows showing the gym and forest beyond.
"Guys! This is Bella!" Jessica says cheerfully as we sit down.
Then, pointing as she goes along the table, "Angela, Mike, Eric, Lauren."
Eric is the kid who sat next to me in English and I recognize a couple of the others. Angela straightens her glasses and pushes a lock of black hair behind her ear.
"Nice to meet you, Bella," she says quietly.
The other guy, Mike, raises his hand high up over his spiky blonde head to wave and smiles, "Hey, welcome to Forks."
Lauren doesn't say anything but smiles and raises her eyebrows slightly, giving me a not-so-subtle once-over.
I smile again and start peeling the label from my soda to give my hands something to do.
"Bella's from Arizona, right, Bella? We have Trig and Spanish, her accent is so good. I sounded like a tomato compared to her."
I nod.
"How do you feel about interviews?" asks the dark-haired kid, drumming his fingers on the table.
God, please no.
"Umm, necessary for journalistic integrity?" I say, my voice turning the statement into a question at the end.
Angela laughs, "I think Eric wants to ask you if you want to do some kind of new-kid exposé for the school paper. We're both on it. Ever since we heard we'd have some new people this year, he's been going on and on about the "fresh perspective" angle."
Inner-head Bella pulls out a revolver, loads a bullet into it, and raises it to her temple.
"How many new people are starting this year?" I ask, deflecting the question.
"Just two. You and a guy, yet another Cullen kid, Jasper," Lauren says from across the table as she puts her long, blonde hair up into a messy bun.
"We get the inside scoop from Lauren since her step-dad is Mr. Greene," Mike explains.
"Well, Chief Swan has been telling anything that moves that you were coming, since, like, the beginning of the summer, so that wasn't really a scoop, but the Cullen one definitely was," remarks Jessica, popping a cherry tomato from her salad into her mouth.
Huh. I tuck away that bit about Charlie to think about later.
"So why was the Cullen intel a scoop?" I ask, looking down at the label I've managed to peel off the bottle in one piece.
Jessica holds up a finger before chewing and swallowing, then folds her hands under her chin and rests her elbows on the table.
"The Cullens are like, super shut ins. They've been going here two years now and I can count on one hand the number of times they've spoken to anyone besides each other, not counting teachers. They're the foster kids of Dr. Cullen and his wife, who are like, way too young to even have kids at all. They moved here from Alaska because Mrs. Cullen wanted to get away from the bears because her family all died in a tragic polar bear attack. The parents don't really socialize, either, so no chance of getting gossip that way. Sometimes the nurses at the hospital have tea, but it's normally all fake when it comes to the Cullens. There were four of them until now, Emmett, Edward, and Alice Cullen, and Rosalie Hale. We don't know why she's the only one with a different last name, not for lack of investigation, trust me. The new kid, Jasper, has the same last name as her, so I'm guessing they are actually related."
She takes a deep breath and grabs another tomato.
I look around the table and raise an eyebrow. Inner-head Bella (Brainella?) is cackling.
"A tragic polar bear attack?"
Angela laughs quietly, "Um, no, that one is a Jess-embellishment. She discovered soaps last year. The only things we know about them are that they moved from Alaska and are fostering the kids. And they're loaded."
"And really hot, you can't forget that," adds Eric, "Ever since I went to the E.R. after that concussion in gym last year, I've been plagued by hot doctor fantasies. Plagued! I never knew scrubs could be so sexy… and don't even get me started on the white coat…"
"Preach!" Jessica says, clapping.
Angela buries her head in her hands, "You guys! Bella is going to think we're freaks."
"Bella," she says, turning to me, "Please do not judge the rest of us based on the word of these degenerates."
"Speak of the devil," says Mike under his breath, looking toward the door at the back of the room.
I take a quick look as they walk over to the first table they come to, not wanting to be the asshole staring at them because I'm grateful that everyone obviously loves gossiping about them and has forgotten about the interview thing.
The girls are equally beautiful despite being complete opposites. One is statuesque, almost 6-feet tall, with golden hair flowing down to her butt. The other is almost half her size, with short dark hair. Insane bone structure, elfin on the short one, cat-like on the blonde.
Jessica looks at me meaningfully, as if to say, You see?
I shrug and nod back. They're definitely California tens, and wouldn't look out of place on a catwalk, but I guess I've seen enough pretty people that I'm not speechless or anything. Maybe it's a small town thing.
The guys are equally beautiful. One is massive, probably 6-foot-5, and built like a Mack truck. I'm struck by how the lines of his face somehow evoke a similar essence of beauty as the tiny girl's. The smallest one has auburn hair and slouches. The middle is blonde. He and the blonde girl must be the related ones, Rosalie and Jasper.
He has the same cat-like formation of facial beauty. His arms and legs are long but seem solidly muscled. It's hard to tell from the brief look I took, but his hair seems shoulder length, messy and ringleted.
Jessica is about to explode.
"Well?!"
I scrunch my mouth up a little like I'm not sure what to say, trying to decide whether to mess with them or not. This is the most fun I've had in a long time, people talking back and forth together, feeling like I belong here at this table with them. I've given up on trying to stop the shaking or my heart beat or the cramping in my stomach, and am just joining in because it feels good to, even though I know it's going to bite me later.
"Umm, yeah. They're definitely California seven or eights. But I wonder what they were before all the augmentation. Threes?"
Five pairs of eyes widen at me. One or two mouths hang open.
Before anyone can say anything else, the bell rings and everyone gets their stuff ready to leave.
"This conversation is not over, missy," says Eric, wagging a finger at me.
Angela and Mike both walk in the same direction as me, back to building one.
Mike laughs, "Man, I haven't seen that look on Eric's face since he blew up his chemistry experiment in the 5th grade."
"Do y'all know where the Biology room is?" I ask, already regretting everything I said at lunch and feeling panic creep up into my chest.
"That's where we're headed, just follow us," says Angela.
My heartbeat is getting loud and more insistent. I try forcing my fingernails into the skin of my thumb but it doesn't quiet.
"Actually, is there a bathroom around here?"
"Sure," Angela says, stopping.
She points to the classroom, "That's Biology, and the bathroom is just over here, come with me."
I sit down in the stall and focus on the cold plastic seat on my skin, breathing slowly in and out. Four walls, open ceiling, tiles on the floor. I close my eyes and keep breathing until I can get a couple of actual lung-filling ones in. My heartbeat recedes from where it was inching up my throat. I can feel my fingers again and I'm only shaking a little bit. So stupid. So, so stupid.
The bell goes off and I force myself to get up, flush the toilet, pull up my jeans.
In the classroom, the teacher is still wrangling everyone into their seats.
"No, Tyler, you cannot sit with Ms. Mallory. Your seat is very clearly labelled here. No, I don't care. No. No. Tyler."
He looks over as the door shuts, then claps his hands together.
"Ah, you must be Bella!" he says, "Kindly take your seat here next to Mr. Cullen. If you'll see me after class, we'll get your slip signed."
Smoothing down the front of his plaid and putting on the glasses hanging from his neck, he clears his throat, "Welcome to Bio II, I'm Mr. Banner…"
I let his voice wash over me as I take my seat and review the syllabus on the table, still trying to get myself under control. I've done a lot of the labs already. So stupid. What was I thinking.
I sink my fingernails into my skin over and over in the confines of my pocket.
"Ahem.." the boy next to me clears his throat, "I think we're supposed to do the ice-breaker on the board together."
Just a couple more seconds and I'll be able to handle it. The ice-breaker entails thinking of a famous scientist, writing on the card where your partner can't see, then putting it on their forehead and making them guess who it is.
"Could you at least look in my direction so Banner doesn't walk over here?"
I grab a notecard and swivel slightly toward him, making an attempt to smile in the process.
He's got a slightly disconcerted look on his face for about a milli-second before smoothing it away.
"Hello, my name is Edward. And you must be Bella."
The bone structure is more impressive this close up and having something to focus helps me calm down a little. Definitely a previously unseen phenotype occurring here. Interesting hair, too. Is the bronze effect a highlighter or is it natural?
"Close your eyes."
Waiting until I'm sure they're closed, I write down "Richard Feynman" on the notecard.
"Okay, your turn."
He opens his eyes and I see that disconcerted look on his face again before closing my own. This guy needs a better poker face but the sooner people figure out I'm weird, the better.
Shut up, I tell myself.
"I'm done." I hear, and open my eyes.
We both stick the postcards to our foreheads. The boy goes first after I gesture to him with a (only slightly shaking) hand.
"Was I working during the 20th-century?"
I nod, "Same question for me."
He inclines his head slightly. His clothes are nondescript, normal. They blend in perfectly with everyone else. Not really "loaded" looking, honestly, and I'm starting to wonder if everyone here is just living at the poverty line. I try to ignore that look that keeps flashing on his face.
"Did I work on the Manhattan Project?"
Which is a good question, and the same one that I ask him after nodding. A great number of the most important scientists of the last century did.
He says yes, and we trade more questions back and forth. I know I'm thinking of the right person after guessing right that they chose the name for the world's first atomic explosion.
"Am I Oppenheimer?"
He smiles for the first time, very slightly, and nods.
"Okay, I think I know mine, too," he says, "Did I spend my honeymoon on the train to Los Alamos?"
"You did."
"I'm Feynman, then," he says, looking weirdly pleased.
Did I look like that, too? I really hope not.
Having successfully completed the ice-breaker, I turn back around in my seat and re-read the syllabus.
After the class ends, I walk to the teacher's desk and he signs my slip.
"I hope you enjoyed the ice-breaker, Bella. Now, I know you were in AP courses at your prior learning establishment. We don't have equivalents here, but I can give you extra-credit assignments more to your speed that can count toward college credits."
"That would be great, thank you," I say, "But please don't feel like you have to, I'm sure I'll get a lot out of your class, anyway."
"No problem," he says, smiling, as he hands me back the slip, "I usually have a few students every year that I do this with so I already have material prepared. It's no trouble."
"Same goes for you, Edward," he calls out over my shoulder as the boy walks by, "You turned me down last year but the offer still stands."
Mike is waiting for me outside the classroom door and it's really, really hard not to reflexively hit him after he jumps out at me. Skin, nails, press, repeat. Heartbeat, throat, tingling.
"…Bella? Bella, are you okay?"
He's waving his hand in front of my face.
"We're at the gym…" his voice trails off.
"Sorry!" I yelp, "Distracted. Um."
My vision is doing the weird tunnel thing. I jam my fingernails into my skin as hard as I can and everything swims back into focus as Mike and I walk through the door.
All the coach does is take uniform sizes and get everyone to sign a safety agreement before giving us the rest of the class to hang out. I head straight to the bathroom and into the farthest stall from the door where I sit, counting breaths until the final bell rings.
Somehow I'm able to get back to the office, drop my slip off, tell the receptionist that my day was great, and get into the truck. I'm pulling into the driveway at Charlie's house before I realize that I left my parka on a hook in the gym bathroom. I only arrive at that conclusion after finally finding an answer for why my hair is soaking wet and dripping down my front and back.
I crawl into bed after kicking my shoes off and lay there all evening. Charlie gets home a couple of hours later and comes up to my room.
"Bella? You asleep?"
I don't answer and he quietly closes the door after a few seconds.
I lay there in my damp flannel shirt. I try to keep the thoughts from bouncing around my head but they keep going, going, going.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would you think you can sit and joke with people? They think you're a freak, you're so weird. They're all laughing at you, you know that, right? Hell, that biology boy is probably laughing, too. You should definitely do it. You should. What else is there to do? What do you have to look forward to? Who cares about you? You should die. I bet you're good at that. Wait, probably not. Not really good at anything, huh?
Finally, around 2 AM, I manage to drift off to sleep, too tired to keep up the constant circular Bella-bashing any longer. Feels like a warmth bath, this sleep, it sinks all the way down to my toes and curls up around my head.
-3-
Bella had a long day T_T
Maybe tomorrow will be better? This is probably going to be a slow burn, since I like that kind of thing, but J+B will officially meet soon!
Next chapter will be Jasper again, and we'll get some more Edward slapping :)
