Chapter 2- The Outcast
Bella
Sliding the library's newest acquisition onto a shelf in the non-fiction section, I glance back at the remaining books on the cart I've been pushing around for the last several minutes. Ms. Linda was thrilled when the city council gave slightly more generous funding this year. As the only librarian within a thirty mile radius, it was her job to choose which books to add to the paltry selection of the Forks Public Library. She went with mostly self-help, home improvement, and children's picture books since that is what most of the patrons usually check out.
Being that I am only a lowly library volunteer that helps out on Saturdays, I had very little say-so on what we should get. If it had been up to me, we would have purchased more of a variety. A few books of poetry, maybe. Some modern bestsellers, too. And a whole lot of classic horror, romance, and adventure novels. To be honest, anything fiction would have been nice. I've pretty much read every novel and short story in this place. I need a new supply to occupy my time. Reading of exotic settings and interesting characters helps keep me sane since my reality is nothing to brag about. But in place of fiction, Ms. Linda ordered reading material which sounds slightly less exciting. Like, for instance, The Super Scrap-Craft Book.
Great. Now I can learn how to make pine cone animals and yarn bracelets. I'm sure acquiring a skill like that would greatly improve my social life.
Cue internal eye roll.
I grab another book but freeze before setting it down in its appropriate spot on the shelf. A familiar, tittering giggle at the end of the aisle has momentarily distracted me from my work. As stealthily as possible, I peek at Heather Sawyer and one of her many friends from Forks High. They're both dressed the way I can only dream about. Big hair that's been hairsprayed to stay in place. Loud, colorful shirts that clearly were bought in some trendy boutique out of town. Even their makeup has me envious. Dramatic purple eyeshadow. Sleek, black eyeliner. And bright pink blush which begins at the apple of their cheeks and goes all the way to the corners of their eyes, giving them instant cheekbones.
I am forbidden from dressing like that. My father insists that the heavy makeup and current fashion trends that you see in magazines all stem from the same evil he has fought against for the last ten years. So, I am dressed the same as always - white sneakers, jeans, and a plain sweater that does not hang stylishly off one shoulder. As for cosmetics, I am limited to clear lip gloss and nothing else. Being told that I can't put on lipstick at my age makes me feel like I'm seven instead of seventeen. There's always the possibility that I could wear some makeup to school and rinse all traces of it off before my father gets home from work, of course. However, I won't ever do that because I'm realistic. Forks is a small town. Word would inevitably spread like wildfire that Charles Swan's daughter tried to fit in with her classmates for once in her life and disobeyed one of his many rules. Being grounded for a month isn't worth the risk.
Heather and her friend chat as they browse the crowded shelves. From what I've heard of their conversation, they have a report in World History due soon and they're looking for something on the Mayan civilization. I could be nice and point out that the aisle they should be searching is on the opposite side of the library. But, I won't utter a word. People like them never listen to anything I might have to say. Advice from me will automatically get tossed aside like it's garbage.
It hasn't always been like this for me. Once upon a time, Heather and I were inseparable. We had sleepovers, talked on the phone at all hours, and shared our secrets with one another. Then, in fifth grade, she learned that being my friend comes at a cost - your social standing. That was also the year when the other kids in my grade realized that our town isn't normal. And the reason our town isn't normal is because of Chief Charles Swan. Once my classmates put two and two together, none of them wanted to have anything to do with me. Including Heather. She went from being my best friend to a virtual stranger overnight, utilizing multiple ways to avoid talking to me altogether. While she went about pretending we had never been close, she learned to occasionally drop biting remarks about me around our classmates to put further distance between us. Slowly, she rose up in the ranks of popularity. By seventh grade, she had hit practically the top. That's where she has stayed ever since.
Good for her. And all it took was my broken spirit for her to accomplish it.
"Have you picked out what you're gonna wear yet?" Heather asks in a chipper (but also library-appropriate) voice to the girl beside her. She has yet to notice me standing at the end of the aisle. Normally when she spots me, she shoots an evil eye my way as a means of greeting.
Her friend Crystal shakes her head in the negative. "Nuh-uh. I gotta talk my mom into letting me go to Seattle so I can find something decent. The dress selection in Port Angeles was lame the last time I checked. It was all plaids and floral prints." She sticks her finger in her mouth and fakes barfing. "Like, ugh! I'm not wearing something butt ugly to THE party of the year... Hey! You wanna come to Seattle, too? We can make a day of it!"
Heather breathes out a laugh and nods her head. "Sure. A day at the mall sounds awesome. I've been hoping to find a killer dress to match the lipstick I found the other day. Have you seen it yet?"
"No! Let me see!"
Heather digs through her purse until she extracts a tube of hot pink lipstick, the shade bright enough to signal passing aircraft from thirty thousand feet.
It's so pretty...
Crystal squeals in delight. "That is so glam! I saw Brooke Shields wearing something similar on a magazine once. You gonna wear it to the party?"
"Totally. I'd be crazy not to," Heather smirks.
"Damn straight! So, what do you think I should look for in a dress? I want to go all out this year! I'm talking puffy sleeves, tulle skirt..."
While Crystal blabs on, a pair of mascara-coated eyes accidentally crosses paths with mine. Heather's warm smile promptly vanishes. The cold and steely look I'm accustomed to appears, clearly expressing how much she isn't pleased to see me today.
"Hold that thought, Crystal." Heather jerks her head in my direction, tipping her friend off to my presence. "Let's talk where there's less narcs around, 'K?" She says this much louder than necessary before leading Crystal off to another aisle of the library.
I swallow hard and push another book in its proper spot on the shelf, forcing myself to go on with my work. Getting depressed will do me no good, so I tell myself that I won't. Instead, I focus on the conversation they had been having. Crystal said she needed a new dress for a party. And THE party of the year can only mean one thing...
I stand immobile as thoughts drift and daydreams take flight. Every spring the kids of Forks come together to throw a party - the only party they dare risk throwing. By necessity, the location changes every year to make it harder for our law enforcement to find it. I've never been to that party. Or any party for that matter. And since parties usually require music, there's very little hope that I ever will. After all, no one in Forks would be crazy enough to invite me. That's because I am the daughter of the man responsible for convincing the Clallam County Board of Commissioners to ban modern music - like rock and pop and r&b - from the entire area. That means there can be no Hot 100 radio stations for us to listen to or music TV channels offered on our local cable. That would be bad enough, but my father went a step further by persuading the Forks City Council to prohibit its teenagers from being near ALL forms of music while within the city limits unless accompanied by a parent or guardian. That means if one of my classmates were caught with - say - a secret vinyl record stashed in their locker at school, they would be fined and the record confiscated by the police (aka, my father).
Ever since the law passed and Chief Swan was given permission to enforce it, no school sanctioned dances have been allowed in Forks. There hasn't been a homecoming or prom for ten long years. The students of Forks High and Forks Catholic (the private school on the other side of town) created their own dance in defiance of the law. Each May, a secret, unchaperoned dance is held somewhere in the county. The only reason I know of it's existence is because I've caught whispered conversations about it while at school. But I do know that if my father ever caught wind that such an event was being held nearby, he would find a way to put a stop to it.
"I wonder what the dance is like," I mumble as I try to picture it within my mind.
My mouth snaps shut and I frantically whip my head all around, scanning to see if anyone heard what I said. I breathe a sigh of relief when I discover no one nearby. I can't believe I'm talking to myself now. If an adult had overheard what I said and then passed the information over to the police, that dance would be done for. And that's just what I need - to give the kids around here even more reasons to shun me.
At Forks High, the hierarchy goes something like this: the popular kids, the less attractive but still likable kids, the super smart kids the popular kids cheat off of, and lastly, the social outcasts that everyone either insults or purposefully ignores. I am the lone representative of that group.
Every person eighteen and under knows exactly why I am the pariah of Forks High. It has nothing to do with my lack of style, my 4.0 GPA, or that I am seventeen years old and the only means of transportation I am allowed to operate is a rusty bicycle that's seen better days. The truth is that no one wants to be associated with the daughter of the Chief of Police. They assume that just because Chief Swan and I have the same last name, the two of us must also share similar values - as though my life revolves around tattling on my peers and generally behaving like a authoritarian-in-training. Nothing could be further from the truth. I don't understand Charles Swan, his hatred of music, or his strict policing style at all. If someone were driving their car three miles above the speed limit, I would say "let them off with a warning". But not him. He would write them a ticket and say "see you in traffic court" without batting an eye.
He isn't much better at home. Charles Swan feeds me, provides shelter, and checks to see if I'm alive every so often. As long as I follow his rules without arguing - which I do - he stays out of my life for the most part. Of course, like a normal family, we do have dinner together whenever he doesn't have to work an all-nighter at the police station. I don't know why we bother, though. We barely speak unless we have to. We might as well eat in separate rooms. I wish we did sometimes. At least dinner would be more enjoyable.
I place the last library book on the shelf and push the cart to the front of the building. Forks' only librarian sits behind the checkout desk with her nose buried in a book. Ms. Linda is middle-aged and has occasional streaks of gray coloring her long raven hair. It's frizzy today thanks to a home perm she did to herself recently. The small curls she created look like they've been shocked with static electricity. But she's still beautiful in my opinion. Even with a few wrinkles scattered around her eyes and forehead, her dark skin - hinting at her Quileute heritage - is lovely. She often gets compliments on how young looking she appears despite her true age. Her addiction to spicy food isn't helping her state of health, though. It gives her major heartburn problems. She eats Tums like a child eats M&M's to combat it.
I don't notice the details of the book Ms. Linda is reading until she shifts positions in her chair. On the front cover there's a busty damsel clinging to the chest of some hunky man with hair prettier than mine. I bite back a smile. Ms. Linda likes to claim her reading interests are reserved exclusively for the high-brow stuff, like Pulitzer Prize award winners. I don't believe cheap romance novels come under that category.
I sneak up as close as possible until I'm practically standing beside her. "Good read?"
The romance novel drops from her hands as though it electrocuted her. She shoves it away and snatches up a botanical guide from the pile of returned books. "Oh, I wouldn't know," she says evasively. "I was only checking to ensure these books were returned with no torn pages or pencil markings."
"Right," I drawl, my smile broadening. I hop up on an empty stool next to her. "Need any help?"
"I sure do." She pushes a stack of books my way. We work quietly a couple of minutes before she speaks again. "Carla Swanson came in a while ago. She donated a great, big bunch of cook books."
"That was nice of her. What are you going to do with them?"
"Depends on their condition. Some will go on the shelves and the rest I'll save for a book sale one of these days," Ms. Linda replies as she throws away an old receipt she found in the pages of a Zane Grey novel. It isn't unusual for patrons to use receipts and scraps of paper as bookmarks. We prefer that to the alternative. Once, I found someone's old Velveeta cheese slice in the middle of Crime And Punishment. At least the plastic wrap kept the pages from getting damaged.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Ms. Linda tapping her upper chest several times and squirming in her chair.
Heartburn strikes once again, I think.
Predictably, she reaches for her trusty bottle of Tums and pops one into her mouth. "Carla had something else to share. Big news." She chews around her words and audibly swallows. "A new family moved to town. They call themselves the Cullens."
I pause in my work and pay closer attention. Forks doesn't get new residents too often since its strict laws on music put a damper on what most people consider as fun. But some around here appreciate the safe streets and low crime rate enough to overlook the bad. Admittedly, life here isn't so terrible if you're over twenty-one and don't mind missing out on current music trends. You can at least listen to Mozart or Ella Fitzgerald without fear of getting fined. But if you're under twenty-one like me, you are deemed "too irresponsible" and "too untrustworthy" to handle listening to music on your own.
It's a miracle we have any citizens here at all.
"The family's made up of some new doctor, his wife, and their adopted son - or so I've heard," Ms. Linda continues, her eyes sparkling from the juicy gossip. "They're from some big, fancy place, too. Boston, I think it was."
My eyes practically glaze over. "Boston? Wow."
Boston is very far away from Forks. Therefore, it sounds wonderful to me. I bet in Boston no one would look down their noses at me just because of who I'm related to. In Boston I could do what I want instead of always being told what to do. There's even the possibility that I could make friends there and have a life outside of reading books.
I release a sigh and slump my shoulders. Who am I kidding? None of those things will happen anytime soon. I have another year of high school left, plus a father who will probably fight against me leaving the safety of Forks even after I am a legal adult. It's best to not get my hopes up too high. I can confirm from prior experience that the fall from up there hurts like hell.
"That's exactly what I said," Ms. Linda chuckles. "Why would a family want to go from living in a sprawling city like Boston to a tiny dot on a map? And can you believe they moved here sight unseen? The man did his job interview with the hospital over the phone! But with his kind of credentials, Forks General Hospital couldn't pass him up."
"Maybe the family wanted to escape the pressures of the city for a while and experience what small town life is like," I theorize. Forks has exactly one red light. You can't get much smaller than that.
"That's a possibility." Ms. Linda pauses and makes a show of leaning towards me. "But that's not what Carla told me," she reveals in a whisper. "She thinks that it has something to do with the boy."
"What boy?" I ask, furrowing my forehead.
"The adopted son, Bella! Did you forget already?" she chides.
I did. But I won't tell her that.
"No, no. I remember. I just thought you were talking about someone else there for a sec. Go on with what you were saying," I encourage.
Pacified by my response, Ms. Linda smiles. "All right. So this Cullen boy sounds like he's around your age. He starts school at Forks High this Monday. Anyway...Carla doesn't have the exact details yet, but we do know that the poor thing has had a rough life. He lost his entire biological family in a fire a few years back. The whole house burnt to the ground! He's the only one to have escaped in time. Isn't it awful? The Cullens adopted him not long afterwards. Carla believes the move from Boston to Forks is for his sake. To get him away from the scene of his reoccurring pain, you know. Losing your parents is about the worst thing that can ever happen to a kid. Sad, really."
I suck on my dry bottom lip and dart my eyes down to the desk. Any mention of dead parents always makes me uneasy. I guess having one of my very own might have something to do with it.
"Yeah. That is sad," I murmur.
"That doctor and his wife must be good people, though. To adopt an older child with baggage takes guts," Ms. Linda plows on, oblivious to my discomfort. "And a lot of hard work. Who knows what possible psychological disorders the poor thing suffers from. I watched a Barbara Walters special once that talked about-"
Ms. Linda abruptly shuts up. It's rare for her to do that while she's chatting about fresh, new gossip. I glance over to find an odd expression etched on her face.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
Her amused eyes flick to the far side of the library, silently encouraging me to take a look. "Boy. At two o'clock."
Surrounded by a few opened books, I see a boy in a navy blue hoodie sitting at a table in the corner. Light brown hair is carefully parted to the side. A small smile on his face flashes this way. I've seen him around town before, usually zipped up in a letterman jacket to keep out the rain and cold. More than likely, he's a football or baseball jock. Clearly, we don't run in the same social circles - especially considering I tend to only hang out with middle-aged librarians.
"OK. What about him?" I ask Ms. Linda in a low tone.
She shrugs nonchalantly and places a book on the cart, turning her back towards me. "Oh, nothing..." Then she swirls around with a bounce in her step, her tone lowering to an enthusiastic whisper. "Just that he's been staring at you for the past five minutes!"
My nose wrinkles. "Staring? At me? Why would he do that?" A look of horror washes over my face. "Do I have something in my teeth?"
She laughs. Hard.
Wiping the corners of her eyes to prevent mascara from dripping black streams over her cheeks, she soon calms down. "No! For heaven's sake, Bella. Your teeth are fine! The boy is clearly checking you out. Go over there and talk to him."
"No way!" I hiss. "I don't know who he is."
"Get to know him then," she fires back, crossing her arms. "Maybe if you put yourself out there more and made a friend, the kids in this town would stop picking on you so much. Besides, he looks cute to me. If I was your age and not happily married to Ron, I'd be on him like that." She snaps her fingers to amplify her remark. "But lucky for you, I'm too old for him. And, my Ron keeps me too happy to ever stray."
My entire body cringes. "First of all...ew. Secondly - that guy could be looking over here for any number of reasons. Maybe he's admiring the new Reading Rainbow poster behind us. Or, maybe he's crazy, likes to stare off into outer space, and only appears to be watching us."
She gives me a disapproving glance. "You'll never know if you don't try."
I huff and shake my head. "I have tried to make friends around here. Lots of times. There comes a point when you have to accept what you've been handed and move on." Ms. Linda's eyes fill with pity - something I would rather her not do. To change topics, I find the clock on the wall and take note of the time. "Story time's less than five minutes away."
A contrite smile perks up her lips. "All right. I can take a hint. I'll leave you alone about it for now."
I nod gratefully and get back to work.
Minutes later, Ms. Linda disappears into a side room to read to a group of rambunctious kids. I can hear their sweet, childish giggles each time she changes her voice to fit the characters within the book. I think reading to the kids is her favorite thing to do as a librarian. She's good at it, too. Much better than me. I tried it once last year and I still suffer from nightmares about the experience. An annoying little girl kept shooting her hand up into the air to ask questions I wouldn't be able to answer without conducting advanced research first. Another kid wanted a closer look at one of the book's illustrations and accidentally ripped the page in half. Then, a boy the age and disposition of Dennis The Menace used my shirt sleeve to clean his little snot nose. I'd rather scrub the library's toilets than ever read a Doctor Seuss book out loud again.
Only an hour remains before the library closes for the weekend. I remain stationed behind the desk in case anyone wants to check out a book. To pass the time, I finish up the Calculus homework that's due on Monday. I'm on the last problem when a throat clears.
I glance up and meet the face of the blue hoodie guy.
"Hey," he smiles.
"Hi." My eyes dart down and find that his hands are empty. I guess he isn't here to check out a book then. "Umm... May I help you with anything?"
"No... I mean, yeah." He breaks into an awkward laugh and scratches his chin. "I have this problem. My English teacher gave us an assignment, right? We gotta pick a book by an American author, read it, and write a report on it by next week. I'm not sure what I should choose."
This is the first time in months a person my age has spoken more than one sentence to me without there being an insult attached to the end. It's difficult to conceal my surprise. "Any American author of your choosing?"
"Yeah. That's what she said."
"Well, it shouldn't be too hard to find something for you. What are your preferences? Is there a genre you like more than others?"
"Don't know. I don't read all that much unless it's for school. Never have the time," he shrugs.
"I see..." I purse out my lips as I think. "How about movies then?"
His smile comes back easily. "I can answer that for you. I like Chuck Norris movies. And all the Rocky's. The fourth one's supposed to come out at the end of the year. I'm kinda stoked for that one. Terminator was pretty sick, too."
I grab a scrap of paper from the pile we keep underneath the desk and begin scribbling on it. "It sounds like you prefer action/adventure. Here's a few author names I can think of off the top of my head. Look through the card catalog and I'm sure you'll find something you'd be interested in." I slide the list across the desk to him once I'm finished.
He folds the paper a couple of times without looking and shoves it into the pocket of his hoodie. "Thanks. This should help a lot."
"You're welcome. Have a nice day."
I reach for my Calculus textbook and resume what I had been doing before he strolled up to the front desk. He clears his throat again. With my pencil clutched between my fingers, I glance up from my homework. He's looking down at me expectantly.
"Oh. Was there something else you needed?" I ask.
"Actually, yeah." The boy licks at his lips, eyes flicking from side to side before refocusing on my face. His voice lowers. "What's your name?"
My eyes narrow slightly. "What?"
The boy chuckles, glancing quickly down at the floor. "Sorry. I guess I should've introduced myself first. I'm Todd Lightsey. Moved here 'bout five years ago. My mom and dad own the florist shop over on Main... I go to Forks Catholic School. You go to Forks High, don't you?"
"Yeah," I drag out uncertainly.
"Thought so. I've seen you at the supermarket a few times. And I saw you once a couple of months ago when I had to return a library book for my mom. I think you were restocking the book shelves - or whatever you call it." Todd places his elbows on the top of the desk, slightly leaning on them. "So how often do you work? Every day after school and on the weekends?"
The pencil between my fingers wiggles nervously. "No. This isn't really a job. I only volunteer here on Saturdays. The library doesn't have the budget to support more than one worker."
"Cool, cool," he nods, sucking in his cheeks as he does so. A moment of silence comes between us before he speaks again. "So...about that name?"
Here it comes. When this Todd guy finds out what my first name is, he will inevitably link it to my surname. There's only one Bella in Forks, Washington. Bella Swan. And once he deduces that fact for himself, he will run out of here so fast that it'll look like his ass was lit on fire.
I blow out a heavy sigh. "It's Bella."
"Bel-la," Todd repeats, drawing out the sound. His forehead scrunches together, as if he's thinking long and hard about something. Then he does something strange. He cocks a smile. "Nice."
OK... I didn't see that coming.
"Umm. Thanks."
"You're welcome." His upper body leans further over the counter, cutting the distance between us by half. "Since we've gotten introductions out of the way, maybe you can answer something else?" I raise an eyebrow, silently giving him the go ahead to continue. "Will you go to the dance with me?"
My pencil falls out of my grip and lands with a thunk on top of my textbook.
"Excuse me?" I yelp, eyes wide.
"You know? The dance? It's coming up in a few weeks."
"I... Yeah. I-I know what it is. But..." But you shouldn't want to go to any dance with me... But you're obviously too new around here to be able to connect my first name to that of my father... But you'll be taking back your offer once you find out the truth...
His face scrunches into a scowl. "But what? You already got a date or something?"
I fiddle with the ends of my hair, avoiding his eyes. "No. No I don't. Actually...I won't be going at all."
"How come? It's the biggest, best thing to do around here. You shouldn't miss out on it." Todd's head tilts on its side, his mouth twisting as though debating what he should say next. Another smile slowly creeps onto his face. "I've got a little confession to make. I spent thirty minutes trying to get the nerve up to ask you to be my date. You really gonna make me leave here without at least giving me a little hope you'll change your mind? C'mon. I promise you a good time if you'll agree to go."
My eyelids slam shut. "Listen. It's very sweet of you to ask, but... I don't think you will want to go with me once you know who I am." I draw in a gulp of air and force myself to maintain eye contact. "I'm Bella Swan."
Todd goes on staring at me, face devoid of expression.
"Swan," I repeat, putting emphasis on the name in case he wasn't paying close enough attention. "As in, Chief Swan's daughter."
I sit on my stool and wait for his reaction. No doubt he'll be jetting out the library door in approximately five seconds and counting.
Five...
He's blinking rapidly.
Four...
His forehead is creasing, trying to put two and two together.
Three...
His mouth is opening.
Two...
He laughs.
One...
Wait... What?
He aims a grin my way and scratches the nape of his neck. "Well...yeah. I kinda already knew that."
My eyebrows crash into one another. "You...you did?"
"Uh-huh. One of the times I saw you in town, my friends told me who you were. I just didn't remember your first name."
"Oh." Apparently I'm very articulate when I am in shock.
"So...you? Me? Dance?" he presses.
My fingers rub my temples, trying to understand what's going through this guy's brain. He knows who I am, yet he still wants me as his date? What's his angle? No one has invited me anywhere in years.
My hands fall with a smack on the desk. I eye him carefully. "Why? Why take me?"
"Why not you?" he counters.
I roll my eyes and laugh without humor. "I doubt the other people at this dance will like it if I show up. Almost everyone our age has made it crystal clear how they feel about me. I think you'd be happier in the long run if you find another date."
The ends of his mouth pull down into a frown. "Is this your nice way of blowing me off? 'Cause if it is, I'd rather you just be honest and tell me the truth."
"It's not that..." I trail off.
"Then go with me," he butts in. "I just want to have a good time. With you. So...what do you say?"
My mouth trembles with hesitation. What he's offering is tempting. But it's risky, too. That big vein on the side of my father's neck would explode if I were to go to a place with loud rock music and dancing. Then he'd lock me inside of the house until I'm thirty.
As I stress over what I should do, my eyes flick to the left and find Heather glaring icily at me from across the library. She's whispering to Crystal, their irritated gazes switching from me to Todd.
Why do they look so mad? Is it that terrible a boy is talking to me instead of pretending I don't exist? Is it a crime for me to be treated like a normal person for a change?
I snap my attention away from the two girls, my mind suddenly made up for me. I've experienced ten years of living in a town without music. Ten years of living in a household devoid of smiles and laughter. I'm seventeen years old and I can't remember the last time I did something besides holing up in my bedroom on a Saturday night. I'm a straight A student, a teacher's pet, and never had the courage to break a rule before. Yet there comes a time when you need to let loose and have fun. Fun hasn't been in my vocabulary as of late.
So what if I show up to the dance with Todd and girls like Heather give me a hard time? They do that to me every day anyway. If Todd doesn't mind taking me to this dance, I should go. It's my only shot at seeing what it's like. For that one night, I can pretend I'm someone besides the goody-goody daughter everyone loves to hate. I'll ignore their whispered insults and enjoy myself for once in my life.
I hold my head higher, offer Todd a timid smile, and give him my answer.
"OK."
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A/N- Did Bella do the right thing by saying yes? Or, should Todd and Heather be fed to a hungry vampire before the dance comes along? You tell me.
Next Chapter- Two POVs in one. The new boy in Forks makes a big impression on everyone at school with minimum effort.
Who are the best people in the whole wide world? You guys are! Thanks for reading and giving this story a shot. :-)