Chapter 3- The New Boy

Bella

"And you've been flossing at least once a day?" Doctor Butler asks, his cheery face hidden behind a light blue surgical mask.

"Uh-huh," I respond while the metal pick scrapes my bottom molar.

"That's good. I can tell. Your teeth and gums are in excellent shape."

"Hank uh."

"You're very welcome," he says, somehow correctly interpreting what I said. "Did you enjoy your weekend?"

"Es," I lisp with my mouth ajar.

He moves the metal pick and begins to clean another tooth. "We had wonderful weather yesterday, didn't we? I was finally able to get some yard work done. My son Lucas came by for a visit, too. It was nice having him around the house again. Did you know he's been studying marine biology? He's planning to travel to Brazil and study the coral reefs there just as soon as he graduates. I told him to pace himself. Take a couple of weeks off and pat yourself on the back before you go off to the ends of the Earth. But you know Lucas. He's eager to start his job as soon as possible. That boy's always striving to be the best he can be." Doctor Butler ends the story with a proud chuckle.

I have no clue who his son is, but I roll with it anyway and make a noncommittal humming sound in the back of my throat.

"What about you, Bella?" he asks curiously. "Made any plans for college yet?"

I stare up at him in astonishment. Why does Doctor Butler think I can (or would even want) to carry on a conversation while his fingers are probing the insides of my mouth? Shouldn't that be something they learn not to do while at dental school?

I shake my head in response to the question, hoping he won't push for details. He doesn't, but he does spend the next ten minutes giving me the play by play of his college experience from thirty years ago. It's not exciting. I'm barely conscious by the time my dental cleaning ends. His prognosis for me is good, though. No cavities. No gum disease. And no more dentist appointments for the next six months.

Armed with a doctor's excuse, I exit the waiting room and step out into a dreary Monday morning. The clouds stretch out like a thick cotton blanket in the sky, filtering the day light into a dull gray. It isn't pretty, but at least it's only cloudy today.

I stroll over to the metal pole where I locked up my bike. I'm turning the key in the padlock when I spot a weird half truck, half car combo in the dentist office's parking lot. A white-haired old man with dark, wrinkled skin hobbles out of the driver's side of the gold El Camino. He leans on a wooden cane, taking his time as he walks carefully to the entrance of the building. I recognize him instantly. He lives in a medium-sized house near the edge of town, one which sits diagonally across the street from my own. This man is the Swan family's only close neighbor.

I raise my hand in greeting. "Hi, Mr. Castleberry."

He keeps right on walking, the speed and gait like that of a determined tortoise.

My hands cup around my mouth. "Hey, Mr. Castleberry!" I shout.

This gets him to stop. His head swings from left to right until he notices me standing fifteen feet away. His smile mirrors my own. "Well, hello there. What are you doing out and about today? Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"Yes, sir. But I had a dental appointment this morning. It wasn't much fun... though they did give me a nice toothbrush as a reward for being good during the exam," I relate dryly.

His head tilts on its side. "Say again?"

Mr. Castleberry is slightly hard of hearing, something which could be improved if only he would wear his hearing aid more often.

"I said they gave me a toothbrush," I repeat louder than before.

"They did what?"

OK. So he's a lot hard of hearing.

"A toothbrush!" I scream. With my finger, I mime brushing my teeth in the hopes he'll understand what I'm saying.

"Oh!" He nods his head knowingly. "You want a toothbrush! Don't worry, sweetheart. They'll give you one for free once your appointment is over with."

I give Mr. Castleberry a weary smile. "Thanks for the tip. I better get going now. If I hurry, maybe I can make it to school before third period begins."

"What?"

Not wanting to go through another round of Charades today, I give an exaggerated hand wave so there will be no mistaking the meaning. "Bye!"

"Oh. Goodbye, Bella. You have a good day!" he shouts as I pedal away on my bike.

I arrive at Fork High's front office within minutes. The secretary accepts my dentist's excuse and sends me off to class. I take my time since there's only a couple of minutes left before second period ends. As soon as the bell sounds, I enter my third period classroom. The empty seats around me slowly fill with my classmates while their mouths move at a hundred miles an hour.

"Ohmygod! Have you seen him yet? His bod is to die for..."

"The new guy's in first period English with me. Name's Edward Cullen. Didn't seem too talkative..."

"For real, when I saw his face, I nearly had a religious experience..."

No doubt the new student is the adopted son Ms. Linda told me about the other day. Forks High School is small and doesn't get new blood very often. It isn't a surprise that news like this will excite the entire student body. My fourth period Art teacher reminds her students that it's time for us to concentrate on the lesson instead of talking about the Cullen boy. My classmates nod in agreement. Then, as soon as the teacher turns her back to write on the chalkboard, twenty-three out of her twenty-four students immediately go back to whispering about the new guy and passing notes back and forth.

When the lunch bell rings, the chatter surrounding his good looks and mysterious origins grows louder. The cafeteria is buzzing with energy by the time I arrive. Hundreds of heads turn this way and that, evidently searching for him among the crowd. This Edward must not have arrived yet. I'm sure once he does show up, he'll get invites to sit at a dozen lunch tables. The kids at this school are generally nice and welcoming as long as your last name isn't Swan.

I join the very end of the slow moving line and wait to see what the lunch ladies have deemed edible for us today. I've moved several feet when I detect a presence by my side.

"Hey, Swan."

My back goes rigidly straight. The voice that just spoke sounds like a cross between an airhead from Malibu and Satan's whiny, kid sister. And, unfortunately, I know it well.

I glance at the girl next to me and frown. Rory Parker's wispy, fire-red hair is being held back today by a purple sweatband, as though she believes she might be drafted into doing a Jane Fonda work out video at any moment and must be prepared for this contingency. Despite the nearly year round cloudy weather in Forks, her skin has a nice and healthy glow thanks to her frequent tanning bed sessions. She's also one of the few people my age who takes time out of her busy schedule to talk with me. I've never asked for it. In fact, I wish she would ignore me like almost everyone else does around here. But she must have once been one of those disturbed little kids who would yank the wings off of houseflies just so she could have power over something weak and helpless. Fast forward to the present, inflicting almost daily psychological torture upon me is how she entertains herself.

I slip on my mask of indifference as soon as I realize it's her. I've learned through trial and error that showing any emotion during our interactions feeds her heart of darkness. I prefer starving it, so I usually try to brush off anything and everything she says.

"What do you want?" I say in a flat tone.

Rory smacks her chewing gum as loud as she can. "Just wanted to ask you if what I heard was true."

"And what was that?" I deadpan.

"That you're going with Todd Lightsey to the dance. Is it true?" She blows out a small, pink bubble and lets it pop.

I can feel my mask shift, exposing clear surprise on my face. "Yeah. It's true. How did you find out about it?"

Rory slurps the gum back into her mouth. "I heard he's going around telling all his friends. They say he's amped up about taking you." She doesn't say a word for a moment or two. Then her hazel eyes scan me up and down. "But for the life of me, I don't understand what he's so excited about. Poor Todd must be getting desperate for a date since he's scraping the bottom of the barrel now."

Once again my stone mask slides back in place, blocking her from seeing how much her taunting affects me.

Her auburn brow cocks at an angle. "So what? Don't have anything to say? Too dumb to think of a comeback?"

I remain mute, staring her down with expressionless eyes.

Rory heaves out a dramatic sigh. "God. You're a such waste of space, Swan. Todd must be goin' bonkers to think bringing you to the dance is a good idea." She steps in closer, her eyes suddenly as cold as an Arctic night. "And don't even think about blabbing to your daddy about the dance. If it gets cancelled because you couldn't keep your big mouth shut, I can guarantee that your life around here will only get worse. Understand?"

I cross my arms and hide my tightened fists from her sight. Words pour out before I can stop them. "I think between the two of us, it's my mouth that's the smaller one. I won't be saying anything."

Her eyes narrow into viper slits. Uh-oh. I've pissed her off and insulted her. I'm simultaneously thrilled and terrified over what she'll do next.

A voice begins shouting from our left, interrupting the tense standoff. "Rory! Hurry up! I've saved you a seat!" one of her friends yells.

Rory glances over a shoulder and waves at the people sitting at a nearby table. Turning back to me, a false smile curls in place. "As much fun as this has been, I've gotta go." She gives my cheek a condescending pat. My head jerks back, escaping from her touch. "See ya tomorrow, Swan," she says before she walks away.

I don't relax my stance until she's huddled with her friends. Within seconds of joining them, she's all genuine smiles and giggling at something one of them said. It's like she's a different person than what she was only a minute ago. I'm beginning to suspect a demon resides within Rory's body and it only shows itself around me.

Moving through the lunch line, I try to calm back down. I think of happy things to brighten my day - like the meadow I often visit, and that Waldenbooks store opening up soon in Port Angeles. It works. My mood is much better as I grab a burger, fries, and a can of 7 Up and place them on my tray. I weave through the cafeteria until I get to the small, cramped table in the corner where I normally sit. I drop my book bag on the floor and eat my lunch silently - though the students at the tables surrounding mine are anything but quiet. They won't shut up about the new boy at school. Three freshman girls at the table directly to my right are in deep discussion about him.

"Have you seen him yet?" wonders the girl with her hair in a high ponytail.

"Nope," replies a girl with Coke bottle thick eyeglasses.

"Well, I have," ponytail girl says in a superior tone. "I saw him in the hallway when I was on my way to Gym. I'd give anything to be in a class with him... You think a junior could ever fall for a freshman?"

A girl with freckled skin snickers into her hand. "Sure. In your dreams, maybe."

Ponytail girl's lower lip puckers out. "Not funny, Ali. I was being serious." She exhales softly. "I wonder if anyone's asked him to the dance yet."

"Probably not," freckled girl answers. "But I bet it won't take long before someone does. Edward will get so many offers to the dance that he won't know who to pick."

"Speaking of the dance," the girl wearing glasses butts in. "Ricky Arnold asked me to go and I said yes. But how I should dress for it? Is it casual or what?"

This conversation actually interests me. What I should wear that night hadn't even crossed my mind yet. I nibble on my fries as I listen in.

"I saw Crystal Perkins showing off a few Polaroids from last year's party," answers freckled girl. "All the girls wore dresses, but nothing too fancy. Semiformal should be fine."

My mouth purses as I picture what's in my closet at home. The few dresses I own are simple, appropriate for church functions and funerals. That won't cut it for the dance. I'll have to convince my father to drive me to Port Angeles so I can shop for clothes soon.

Ponytail girl points her finger straight ahead, her eyes gleaming. "Eek! There he is!"

"Who?" asks her friend in glasses.

"Duh! Edward Cullen."

I stuff another fry into my mouth and roll my eyes. Have these people never seen a boy before? Sure, maybe he's attractive. But whoopie doo. So are half the other boys in the lunchroom. There's no reason to get all hot and bothered just because Forks High has one more decent looking guy roaming the halls.

I glance up to see what the fuss is all about. A lone figure sits at a table on the opposite side of the room, his face angled down towards his lunch tray. The boy's broad shoulders are covered in a dark blue denim jacket. His hands are startlingly white, the complexion paler than any of the fair-skinned students around him - including me. His head of untidy hair catches my eye next. It's shade is a burnished copper, with just enough brown strands to keep him from being considered a redhead.

The boy suddenly lifts his face several inches and I study him further. I spy a flawlessly straight nose, masculine brow, sculpted cheekbones, and a square jawline so perfect a carpenter could use it to draw right angles on wood. It's as if Michaelangelo himself chiseled his face out of stone.

Holy shit, I think to myself. The students around here weren't exaggerating. This guy's gorgeous.

I gasp from shock.

Then the French fry I just tossed into my mouth gets sucked straight down my throat.

Coughing like mad, I lunge for my soda and try swallowing the fry down. It doesn't budge an inch. I beat my upper chest hard, like a mountain gorilla. The French fry remains stuck in my throat. I quickly begin feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen. My life passes in front of my eyes. Sadly, there's nothing much to see. Fear builds up by the second. I can't die. Not yet. Spending eternity buried in the Forks Cemetery would be my worst nightmare come true.

Fighting through the hysteria, a lucid thought emerges from the fog. The front office. If I can make it there, the school nurse will know what to do.

I lean forward to get up. In my haste to leave, the table accidentally smacks me hard in the middle, causing me to slump forward. The pain jars my memory until something useful pops up. I remember reading a book at the library once about first-aid and...

That's it!

I strike my abdomen against the table's edge again and again, using upward thrusts. Four or five attempts later, the saliva-drenched French fry flies out of my mouth and lands in the middle of my lunch tray.

Exhausted, I drop back into my chair and greedily pant for air. A handful of people nearby are peeking in my direction, but mostly it appears my near death experience didn't draw much attention. Sometimes being the pariah of Forks High has its benefits. People who ignore your existence usually overlook even your most humiliating of moments.

I breathe a sigh of relief... Then I look straight ahead.

The boy with the face of Adonis stares directly at me.

My eyelids flap open wide. Did he see me choking and coughing like a cat hacking up a hairball? Gee, what a great first impression I've made. It's just my luck to make a fool of myself before the new guy is even made aware by everyone else that he should look down on me.

Immediately, I rummage through my book bag and locate my copy of Catcher In The Rye. I grab the book and hold it in front of myself, hiding my shame behind the book's yellowed pages. Maybe if Edward Cullen can't see me anymore, he'll forget all about the girl who almost died just because she got a good look at his face.

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Edward

I should have known coming here would be a bad idea. I should foreseen the difficulties which would plague me. Instead, I stubbornly went full steam ahead with the plan and damned myself to months of unspeakable torment.

I have become a student at Forks High School.

The school itself is decent, I suppose. The campus is clean and well-maintained. Its buildings are old but sturdy. The parking lot is spacious. I find no fault in any of those things. Yet the school's lone failing is one in which I had previously been dreading the most.

Its students.

Because they are much more annoying than I could have ever anticipated.

Initially they appeared harmless enough. I believed them to be typical human teenagers whose brains are laced with a liberal amount of stupidity. And that they are. However, years of boredom has adversely affected them as well. Evidently having a new student show up on campus is like the Super Bowl, the Academy Awards, and the presidential election all in one. Their fascination with my arrival has me nearly at my wit's end. Attending school without my siblings was a mistake. I see that now. I had grown accustomed to having them by my side to deflect some of the students' enormous curiosity. Today I am forced to deal with it entirely on my own.

Some students contemplate the possibility of me joining their clique of friends. Befriending me would not be a smart move on their part. After all, it's been a few days since I last hunted. Whenever I sense one of them gathering the courage to wander over, I give them an unmistakable glare - one which quickly has them fleeing in the opposite direction.

Other students (and quite a few of the teachers) gossip among themselves about the house fire which supposedly killed my birth parents. The consensus seems to be that my hollow stare and permanent frown are the consequences of the tragedy. I don't mind that conclusion in the slightest. It's better for them to believe that than for them to know the real reason I frown - which is, that since I am doomed to spend my existence reading minds, every human thought I am forced to see is only slightly more interesting than watching grass grow in real time. If any of these busybodies around here had to go through something like that, I'm sure they would be frowning too.

But it's the girls of this hellhole who are surely driving me to the limits of my sanity. At least when I had Jasper and Emmett nearby, the female population would divide their unwanted fawning equally between the three of us. Not so today. A majority of the girls choose to imagine themselves and me in romantic scenarios which are more laughably ridiculous than any soap opera plot ever produced. And because of my telepathic abilities, I have been made an unwilling witness to many of these daydreams right along with them. More despicable than that, they covet only what lies on the surface. My face. My body. My clothes. What my character or moral makeup consists of never crosses their thoughts. Half of them want to believe I'm the sweet, boy-next-door type you can safely introduce your parents to before a date. The other half dreams I smoke in the boy's room and will then invite them to ride off into the sunset on a my nonexistent Harley Davidson. I'm sure if they knew that - underneath my youthful appearance - I am actually an eighty-three year old, ill-tempered man who enjoys watching The Lawrence Welk Show on occasion, the sordid fantasies surrounding me would cease.

During my first four hours at this school, my name came up in the thoughts and conversations of the students exactly 973 times - a new record. And, almost as soon as I walked through the cafeteria doors, that number multiplied by two. I try to disregard their inquisitive stares and fluttering eyelashes as I grab a lunch tray. I fill it quickly with a couple of plates of slop, a carton of milk, and one red apple.

I find an empty table at the back of the cafeteria and take a seat. My spoon languidly mixes the cooked corn kernels on my tray while I pretend I'll be dining on them soon. As I stare down at the table, hundreds of strangers' eyes monitor my every move and whisper among themselves. With my superior sense of hearing, I catch dozens of students wondering why I would choose to sit all alone instead of joining a table full of blabbering teenagers (obviously this should be self-explanatory).

"I heard he's crazy," a boy thirty feet away tells the children around him. He bites into a hamburger, chews roughly three times, and continues speaking while crumbs fly from his mouth. "A few years ago, his real parents grounded him or somethin', and then he got mad and went all psycho. The cops know he's the one who set his house on fire. They say he even watched his parents burn to death. But since they didn't have any evidence to prove it, they had to let him go free."

"No way, Cameron," a girl with braces butts in. "That's just a rumor. Edward isn't like that at all. I mean...just look at him! Isn't he dreamy? A guy can't be that good looking and be a killer at the same time."

I sigh wearily and allow my spoon to fall from my grasp. Apparently, this poor girl has never heard of a vampire before. Or Ted Bundy. Perhaps this school should include a class on common sense to better equip its students for life in the real world.

Cameron snorts. "Well, I still think Pretty Boy is creepy."

I barely hold in a growl. Pretty boy? I despise that term. My only consolation is that at least Emmett is in France and not here. He would have used that nickname against me for the rest of the school year.

The girl with braces sucks in a breath. "Edward is not creepy!"

Another boy jumps into the conversation. His hairstyle seems normal in the front, but in the back it looks like there's a dead squirrel's tail hanging to below his shoulders. "Yeah, he's creepy alright," the boy with the mullet agrees. "I was gonna ask Edward if he wanted to sit by me during English class today and made the mistake of looking at him. Man, I wished I hadn't. I'm scarred for life. Dude's got this look in his eyes that's just...warped. Gave me the fuckin' chills. I wouldn't be surprised if he was insane - just like that guy who bit the head off a bat on stage." He squints his eyes as he thinks. "What was that guy's name? Osgood? Oswald?"

Cameron wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and smiles. "Oh yeah! I remember what you're talkin' about. I saw something about that on the news once. He's a musician. Weird lookin', too. Wore all black and had on eyeliner. I think the guy's name was Donny Osmond."

My jaw clenches. "It was Ozzy Osbourne, you pimple-faced imbecile," I quietly seethe. Black Sabbath remains one of my personal favorite rock groups.

Unable to endure that particular table for a second more, I aim my focus on another group of teenagers. A girl with red curls and a sweatband covering her forehead stares in my direction and practically undresses me within her mind. Her elbow jabs into the ribcage of the girl sitting beside her. "Hey, Claudia," she says. Her head dips in my direction. "What's Tall, Dark, and Handsome's name over there again?"

Claudia flicks her eyes towards me for the briefest of moments. "Edward Cullen."

The red-haired girl curls her lip. "Eww! What a shitty first name! It's like something some old fart in a nursing home would call himself. Why didn't his parents name him something cooler? You know, like Brent. Or Troy." She shoots up in her chair, eyes flashing with excitement. "Ooh! I know the perfect name for a guy like him! Rob! He's a total Rob, isn't he? He looks exactly like Rob Lowe!"

Claudia glances back and examines my features for a bit longer. "Really? I don't know, Rory. He looks more like Kevin Bacon if you ask me."

Rory looks at her friend with something akin to disgust. "Are you brain dead?" she hisses. "Look at that face! That's Rob Lowe and you can't convince me otherwise." Her purse comes out of hiding and she digs through its contents until she finds a compact mirror. She reapplies a coat of cherry-red lipstick and then checks her front teeth. With a snap, the mirror closes and gets tossed back inside of the purse. Rory leans forward and focuses all her attention on her friend in front of her. "OK. Now tell me everything you know about Edward."

Claudia pauses in eating her lunch and eyes her friend suspiciously. "Why?"

One side of Rory's mouth smirks. "Why do you think? He needs someone to welcome him to Forks, right?"

Here we go again, Claudia thinks to herself. I guess Rory's on the path into the new guy's pants.

My entire body cringes at the very thought of allowing a human to be with me in such a way. It will be a cold day in Hell before that ever happens.

Switching to another table, I find a large, raven-haired boy wearing a look of concern on his plump face. "Hey, Heather," he says. "Look at Bella over there. What's going on with her? Is she dyin'?"

The slim girl beside him rolls her eyes and makes a dismissive, tsking sound with her tongue. "She's just trying to gain attention, Brian. Don't encourage her. Why don't you finish telling me about your trip, huh? How long did it take for you guys to..."

I glance in the direction the boy continues to stare and see an unexpected sight - a girl with a hand wrapped around her throat. The color of her face fades to white while her lips become tinged in a light blue. Now that I'm paying heed to the sounds from across the cafeteria, I hear a soft wheezing coming from her mouth. It's plain to see that the girl is choking.

At lightning speed, I scan through the minds of the people around her. Two of them quietly debate if they should step in and help, but ultimately they decide to wait and see if anyone else does something first. One girl wonders nervously if she should fetch a teacher. The rest of the twenty or so students who have noticed the trouble going on pretend they don't see anything at all.

My brows crash together and I scowl at the room at large. What's the matter with these people? Aren't humans supposed to help and support one another?

I'm preparing to walk over there and help the girl myself when she abruptly jumps up from her seat. I watch as she repeatedly slams her midriff into the table. My forehead smoothes back out, impressed by what I see. Performing the Heimlich maneuver on yourself isn't as well known as it should be. It wasn't until I heard about it during my last run through medical school that I knew of it at all.

A few whacks into the table later, the girl coughs up the offending lump of food from her throat. She falls into her chair, her chest heaving. Her fingers brush back a strand of brown hair away from her forehead, the hue that of polished mahogany. Slowly her skin tone warms back to a healthier shade. Even from this distance, I can easily spot the look of relief in her eyes.

Then those same dark chocolate orbs fixate on me.

Like a light switch being flipped, the fair skin of her cheeks flushes to a deep pink. Her head quickly disappears below the table's surface. Seconds later, she pops back up with a book and positions it in front of her face.

My brows knit together again. What an odd reaction for her to have after choking. I wonder what's wrong with the girl now?

I quickly scour through the minds of the children yapping all around the lunchroom, searching for the one which belongs to her. While everyone else either eats their lunch or chats with friends, she sits all alone and reads a book. It shouldn't be difficult to find her thoughts amid the cacophony of mental noise. But it is.

Her mind is no where to be found.

I double my efforts. Perhaps if I concentrate hard enough, I'll pick up on something...

"Hi there, handsome," a voice equivalent to that of a harpy chirps.

Without looking her way, my shoulders slump. I know exactly who this person is and why they are here. It's that girl who had been begging her friend for information on me. If I hadn't been so distracted just now, maybe I could have prevented this teenybopper from pestering me today.

"I'm Rory Parker. You're Edward, right?" she continues.

I grunt instead of answering her question. I've found rudeness is sometimes just as effective as intimidation.

"I don't know if you've heard of me or not yet. But, I'm kind of like the school welcoming committee," Rory babbles on. "You know... the Forks High Spartans may be the toughest school around, but we're also the friendliest in the county. We just love giving new students a helping hand."

She pauses, peeks over her shoulder, and smiles to herself. Ha! Look how green Claudia's face is! she thinks with delight. I bet she's super pissed because I'm the one talking to Edward first. Well, tough titty. If you want something bad enough, you go and get it yourself before someone else does. You'd think she'd have learned her lesson after that whole Matt Joyner issue last year. Everyone knows not to wait around for the guy to make the first move. It's her fault she had a crush on him but was too chicken to fess up. She should have known the boy wasn't going to wait around forever. I can't help it that when I asked him out, he chose me instead...

I clench my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. Why must I always attract the very worst among humans? This girl's personality is no better than that of a dung heap. And that should be considered an insult towards the dung heap.

The girl twists her red hair around an index finger and tries to establish eye contact. "So...how's your day been so far, handsome?"

I unclench my jaw just enough to speak through my teeth. "Insufferable."

Her mouth gapes open. Gah! That voice! It's like sex and chocolate wrapped into one!

"Awesome!" She grins. "I'm glad to hear you're having such a great day."

I breathe out slowly through my nose. Not only is this girl's personality severely handicapped, she's also no brighter mentally than a bowl of Jello. What have I done to deserve this?

"I bet no one's shown you around campus yet," she continues. "I gotta admit it's kinda big and confusing if you don't have a guide..."

I go ahead and interrupt her before she gets anymore ideas. "I can get around fine, thank you."

"Oh, but I don't mind doing it! 'Cause it's my job to help out new students in any way I can." Her voice lowers. A seductive glint darkens her eyes. "And I'm willing to help you out in any way you want."

I harden my glare. Please go away before I reevaluate my policy of not feeding from humans.

"Not interested," I grunt out.

Somehow she overlooks my menacing scowl and doesn't appear frightened at all. Strangely, it only appears to interest her more. She smiles and leans in closer. "Well, how about I show you around town after school? I don't mind. You got a car, right?" Please, please, please say that you do! There's nothing worse than dating a guy that has to borrow his parents' car all the time. I hope the backseat's extra roomy. It'll be a tight fit for the two of us if it isn't...

My mouth lowers into a grimace as Rory proceeds to mentally transplant my face onto the nude body of one of her former partners. Now I see I should have gone ahead and visited the Denali coven with Jasper and Alice. At least when Tanya fantasizes about me sexually, she has the decency to apologize afterwards.

"Go away," I growl, anger heating my eyes. "I prefer having lunch by myself."

Her tongue slides lazily across her lips. Hmm. A challenge, Rory muses as she sizes me up. I don't come across the hard to get type much around here. This is going to be fun...

She smirks and pulls out the chair beside me. "You're cute in a bad boy sort of way. Is that what you are? A bad boy? 'Cause let me tell you, I think they might be my favorite kind of guy." She sashays to the front of the chair and begins bending her knees. It's plain to see what's going on. She intends to sit down uninvited and embed herself with me for the remainder of the lunch period.

And I would rather drop kick my own decapitated skull through the school's field goal than allow that to happen.

As she lowers herself, my foot comes into contact with the leg of the chair she has claimed. I kick just hard enough for the chair to slide a foot away.

A second later, Rory plummets straight down to the lunchroom floor.

She lets out a surprised yelp as soon as her behind collides into the hardened surface, but she is otherwise uninjured. Leaning back on her hands, she glances at her surroundings. People scattered at nearby tables stare or giggle softly at her awkward, sprawled position. For a split second, an expression of embarrassment crosses her face.

Then anger sets in.

Wild eyed, she jumps up from the floor and balls her fists up at her sides. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she accuses. "What's up your butt, dickweed?"

"Excuse me," I reply in a disinterested tone. "But I did inform you that I prefer to eat alone."

Her enraged eyes shoot out fire. "You wanna sit by yourself? Fine by me! You can be alone for the rest of your life for all I care!" And with that, she ignores the curious looks around her, stomps across the crowded cafeteria, and slams the exit door behind her.

I raise the shiny red apple from my lunch tray and turn it over in my hand, feigning interest in its color. Rory's parting remark - though juvenile in its intention - had a surprising hint of truth behind it.

"How convenient for you," I murmur to myself. "I believe that has already been arranged."

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A/N- As a public awareness announcement, please know that you really can perform the Heimlich on yourself (no hot vampires required). You can use the edge of a table, a countertop, or even the back of a chair to help you dislodge something from your throat. Google it. It could save your life.

Next Chapter- I'm sure you know how falling in love works by now. Boy sees girl, boy smells girl, boy fights within himself to keep from eating girl. Romantic, right? No? Well...on the bright side, at least you get to see Carlisle and Esme in chapter 4.

Thanks for reading! :-)