Chapter Two - Out of the Frying Pan


September 20, 2004

I let out a melodramatic sigh as I rolled my head to the left to look at my aunt as she drove. Her hands flexed around the steering wheel but she otherwise gave no indication that she'd heard me. I closed my eyes and turned my head again, this time imagining literally any scenario that didn't involve me being driven to a new school, weeks into the new year as an honorary orphan. Honorary orphan, I liked that. I spent the rest of the short drive chuckling at my own creativity, having long since abandoned any attempt to talk my aunt out of enrolling me so soon. The sun was shimmering in a watery sort of way, I noticed. It would never have the strength of Idaho sunshine.

We pulled into the postage stamp sized visitor parking lot and my aunt popped out of the car. I prolonged each movement, drawing every second out as long as I could before Julie let out an irate "Let's go!" and I figured I couldn't push my luck any longer. I flung open my door and threw my backpack over my shoulder. The school grounds were empty - classes had already started for the day but I'd flown in too late on Friday to be enrolled then. Now I had to make myself even more conspicuous by coming in doubly late because I needed to be enrolled before I could actually get to class.

My aunt, ahead of me by several steps, pulled open the dark green double doors. Too much green in this damn place, I thought angrily. It made Idaho look like a physical rainbow. Grays, browns, white, both brightest and deepest of blues. I followed her silently into the front office. A large, red-haired woman sat reading a shitty romance novel with wonder in her eyes. She looked up, startled, and hastily shuffled the book away from my Aunt Julie's literary snobbish eyes.

"How can I help you?" She asks sweetly, looking at us over the tops of her wire-rimmed glasses. I find myself giving her a makeover in my head. Well-fitted, structured jacket over a pretty patterned blouse would help…

"We need to get Lydia here registered. She's my niece. She's staying with me to finish out her schooling since her parents had to move to Thailand." She shoots me a glance as she says this and I looked away. Had to, that was a good way of putting it. They certainly made it seem like they had no other option. I clench my jaw and continue my mental makeover of Mrs. Cope. Dark, wide leg pants help to balance out the top…

"Ah, yes. We got her records from her last school," she begins. "You weren't taking anything too out of the ordinary so we should be able to get you settled right away."

Too out of the ordinary. I.e. exceptional. Well, I suppose that one was true. I'd never been particularly enamored with hitting the books figuratively although I was pretty much always ready to physically throw them against a wall. Textbooks, anyway.

Chunky necklace and bracelet to bring everything together and you'd have a decent look going, Mrs Cope.

I tune back into the conversation as Mrs. Cope hands me my schedule, a map, and a paper for all of my teachers to sign that she needed back at the end of the day. I accepted the papers and thanked her graciously (in my mind, at least) and walked out of the office.

"I'll see… maybe not," I frowned, looking around for my aunt, only to find her still in the office talking to Shelly, who was shaking her head with a sad frown. Her eyes shifted to me for a fraction of a second before looking back at my aunt who turned away with a wave and walked toward me, fluorescents shining on her silky black hair. Same color as Mom's, I can't help but think before remembering that I hate my parents now.

She wraps me up in a hug that feels like love and smells like flowers and earth and Coral by Michael Kors. I suddenly feel numb, and hug her back loosely.

"I'll see you in a few hours. Call me if you need anything, ok? If it's too much, too soon, let me know. I'll come get you." She promised.

Yeah, right. Pretty sure I can handle whatever Forks, Washington (population 3,001) throws at me. "I'll be ok," I tell her.

She stepped back and gave me a smile bathed in an emotion I can't read before leaving me alone outside of Shelly Cope's domain (you're welcome on that makeover, Shelly).

I pulled out my schedule and the map. "Right," I muttered, "Lit in room 302."


I felt like an animal in a zoo, the way everyone gawked at me. What is it with people and staring here? Can't anyone say hi like a normal person? I fumed as I dropped into a vacant desk at the back of the classroom, hoping to stay unnoticed in second period Algebra II.

A kind-faced girl with dark hair and eyes turned to look at me.

"Hi," she said sweetly. "I'm Angela."

"Lydia," I said distractedly, compulsively observing each person as they enter the room. They all seemed normal. "How's it going?"

"Oh, I'm fine. It's nice to see a new face around here. We haven't had anyone new since the Cullens started two years ago but they keep to themselves."

I shift my eyes back to her, grateful she hasn't yet pressed me on why I'm here and that she doesn't seem inclined to. But I want to pre-empt the questioning anyway.

"Yeah, I needed a change of pace, scenery, you know." I say briefly catching her eye, challenging her to challenge me. She doesn't. She just nods sympathetically. Good God she's so nice.

She opens her mouth to say something else but were cut off by a Mr. Something-or-other starting class. Instead she gives me another kind, genuine smile and turns toward the front. I pull out my extremely detailed and organized math notebook and try to focus on anything coming out of the teacher's mouth.

"Psst,"

I ignored it.

"Hey," same voice, same persistence.

I take a deep breath and look up from 500 step equation I'm writing down and turn toward the voice. It's coming from a blond, slightly round-faced boy-next-door type. "I"m Mike, Mike Newton."

"Nice to meet you, Mike." I sigh and turn back toward the front, again trying to make sense of the numbers and letters (Greek letters! What gives, math?) on the board.

"What's your next class?"

I close my eyes, praying for patience. "History."

"Me too! I'll show you the way," he chirps. Like a bird.

I was about to send a sharp retort about the dollhouse size of this school when I remembered I should be trying to make friends with the people here. So instead I send him a polite smile and thank him and he looks like he just won the lottery.

Great. This one will be hard to shake. I turn back toward the front, distressed to find Mr. What's-his-name had moved onto a new problem. Fuck.


Turned out, I also had my fourth period class, Art, with puppy-dog Mike Newton. He sat next to me a jabbered the whole time, drawing me out of my wordless artistic right-brain bubble. I glance over to his easel and see that he's only been splashing random bits of color on the canvas. He shoots me a wink.

"I call it modern art, so much easier." He looks down at my sketchbook, filled and overflowing. "Wow, you're pretty good."

"Lot of practice," I reply absently, shading in a shadow on the cheek of a man I've decided to name Bruno who was sitting chin in hand at a bar in my drawing.

Mike continues chattering away until he's cut off by the bell. He leaps up. "Thank God! I'm starving. Let's get to the cafeteria."

I get up, much more slowly and carefully roll my drawing and place it into (my) art locker, along with my lesser quality school art supplies. I kept the good stuff at home, naturally. Mike turns toward the cafeteria and looks back at me expectantly but I shake my head.

"I brought food," I say. "It's in my locker. Go ahead, I'll catch up."

He nods and continues in. I watch him meet up with a couple of other boys and Angela and two girls I vaguely recognize from maybe my history class? I turn away and head back toward my locker. As I fiddle with the lock, I catch a snippet of a conversation between two younger girls walking behind me.

"...gone again. I don't see how they can miss school."

"It's sunny, they're always gone when it's sunny. They go camping or something. Good family…" I lose track of what they're saying as they continue walking and shrug. With as little sunshine as there is here, I'd probably skip class on sunny days to go on a hike, too.

I open up my backpack and pull out the light lunch I'd packed. Carrots, sandwich made with home-roasted turkey, white cheddar, and whole grain mustard, mini pack of ultra-sour gummy worms. My heart clenched suddenly. My aunt must've stuck those in there when my back was turned. They used to be my favorite. Now they tasted like bile and regret and longing. I pull them out of my bag and throw them into the trash can, turning and walking into the cafeteria of Forks High School, home of the Spartans.


Four class periods later, the day was mercifully over.

New friends? Check.

Names of new friends? To be determined. (Angela, Mike, Girl with Brown Curly Hair, Bitchy Blonde, Hot Asian Guy, Other Hot Guy (both desperate)).

Invitation to go to the beach? Check.

Invitation accepted? Yeah, but past me often makes commitments future me is unwilling to undergo.

After finally leaving campus (I forgot to bring Shelly her slip of teacher autographs) I stretched and began my walk home, along a sidewalk that sat flush with the forest. I scowled down at the damp cement as I walked. Green and drab gray. That seemed to be all there was here. I scoffed the toe of my shoe bitterly and kept walking, ignoring the animals sounds coming from the forest. Soon, I was in front of my new house and up the walk and the stairs and through the door. I barely had time to drop my backpack on the hardwood floor before Aunt Julie was there, chiding me about putting things in their "proper" place.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, instead opening the foyer closet and shoving it in there instead.

"How was school?" She asks, from the dining room table. She was standing over an arrangement of seed packets.

"Uh, fine. People are um… invested?" I say, unsure how to properly describe the unusual interest in me.

Aunt Julie looks up, swapping two types of flower seeds and steps back, pondering them. "Yeah, we're not used to new folk around here."

"They invited me to the beach on Saturday. It's supposed to be sunny or something." I respond, running my fingers along the back of an oak chair at the table.

"Oh? That should be fun. First Beach is beautiful. There's some nice hiking… Actually," she frowns, "I don't want you to go hiking, ok? There's been a string of animal attacks. Stay in open, populated areas please. I don't want to have to explain to your mother that you were eaten by a wolf."

"I don't think she'd care." I replied flatly, turning and heading down the short hallway to my room.

"Lydia -" Aunt Julie calls after me but I ignore her, shutting my bedroom door just slightly too loudly so maybe she'd get the hint I didn't want to talk. I turn to face my room only to groan. Having been in such a foul mood over the last few days (being abandoned will do that), I'd done no unpacking and had been leaving things wherever I dropped them on the periwinkle blue carpet. The soft, bare yellow walls were mocking me. See? They seemed to say. You can't do it. You can't make your home here.

"Shut up," I told them. This room was bigger than my old one. I could designate a corner for each one of my hobbies. It would be neat and homey and uncluttered. All things my heart was desperate for. I reached for the first box and then stopped abruptly. I crossed over, dodging between boxes, to the picturesque window with a white frame, filmy white curtains, and white wooden slat blinds, and wrenched it open. Immediately, a cool breeze began drifting into the room, calming on my heated skin. I stood for a minute in front of the window, soaking in the weak sunshine and cool breeze.

Then, I turned and attacked the boxes with a vengeance. I pulled out clothes, haphazardly thrown into boxes in my anger and sorted them into piles: keeps and non-keeps. Then sorted the keeps into closet and non-closet and then began folding them neatly, oh so neatly, and placing them carefully sorted into their designated drawers. I could feel a peace coming over me. Soft, gentle, the way it always was when I was taking control of my living space, the only thing I could control it seemed. I broke down the boxes and opened my door to place them in a neat stack in the hallway. I glanced at the clock - 4:45. I'd been at it for almost two hours. I lifted my arms above my head in a stretch.

Clothes done, that left… Desk supplies, art supplies, personal mementos, and my own personal library. I frowned at the couple of six foot high stacks of book boxes. The only shelves in here were a small bookshelf, looked like it was made by my uncle, tucked into the corner by the window. I'd have to leave books for last, I decided. Maybe get Uncle Marcus to help me design and build some larger shelves to hold them.

Right, next getting my desk set up - I was interrupted in my thoughts by a soft knock on the door frame. Aunt Julie peeked her head in.

"How's it going in here?" She asked surveying the remaining boxes and my general state of dishevel.

"Fine and dandy," I mumbled, leaning down to open a box with "desk" written on it in my untidy scrawl.

"Good, good," She said distractedly. "Can I ask you to run to the store for me? I'm missing some ingredients for dinner."

I stood upright again and stretched before leaving my arm extended toward my aunt. "Sure. I need your keys." I said, wiggling my fingers.

She jerked her head to the side, indicating I should follow her and so I did, making mental notes of the things she asked me to get from the store. She fumbled through her purse for her keys and then dropped them into my hand.

"Be careful, please." She whispered.

I nodded slowly. These animal attacks really have her worried.

After slipping into the driver's seat, I turned on the radio to the threadbare tune of "Breakaway" by Kelly Clarkson. I immediately turned up the volume and reversed out of the driveway, heading into the mediocre town, scowling at the now overcast sky. Pulling slowly into the parking lot of the grocery store, I turned down my music and looked around, feeling eerily like I was being watched.

I scoffed to myself. Of course I was being watched, I was the fresh meat in the town! I leaned over to the passenger seat and grabbed a handful of reusable bags and walked quickly into the store, ignoring the sensation of eyes following my every move. When I reached the door, I looked around. There was no one nearby and all the people down the street were minding their business. I felt a cold touch at the base of my neck above my shoulder and swung around but no one was there.

"Weird," I whispered. Probably just working myself up and imagining things, I thought, ignoring the nagging reminder that I was never truly alone.


I didn't collapse into bed until almost midnight. Not until every box was emptied and everything properly and neatly stored away. I stared out my window, bathed in a dim moonlight, curtains fluttering in the breeze. Should probably close that, I thought but a yawn overtook me and I was out before I could think another word.

I had disturbing dreams of cold touches and a young girl being drowned in a pond surrounded by trees bursting with autumn colors. Drowned by an oversized wolf with gleaming red -

I was awoken suddenly, by the sounds of my alarm. I opened my eyes, not feeling any more rested than before I'd fallen asleep. I groaned and fumbled for my alarm, trying to quiet the shrill. I sat up slowly, shivering at how cold it was. I looked sleepily at the window, slightly confused that it was now all the way open. I stood up and made my way achingly slowly over to it. I pondered it briefly, wondering how it had opened up so far when I'd only left it partly open, then pulled it down with a snap and turned the lock. I glared at the drizzle of rain outside before turning to my neatly organized chest of drawers, envisioning my outfit for the day.

I headed down the hallway a short time later, occasionally jingling the bangles on my wrist for effect. I slipped into the kitchen, stopping to read a note on the counter for me.

Lydia -

We both had to work early so we will see you tonight. There's food in the oven keeping warm for you. When you get home please take out the steaks and marinade them please. See you for dinner.

Auntie Julie

I nodded, promising myself I definitely would not forget to start dinner when I got home and then went to the oven to get my plate. I ate in silence, one eye on the clock to give myself time to brush my teeth before heading back to school. When I had fifteen minutes until the tardy bell, I dropped my plate in the sink, ran to the bathroom, and began my walk to school. I arrived with exactly enough to time to stop by my locker and no time for chit-chat, exactly how I'd planned. Feeling a little self-satisfied, I dropped into my seat at the back of my Lit class just as the final bell rang. There was someone new that I hadn't seen the day before - an enormous boy with short, dark curls sitting on my far left and slightly behind me. He was doodling something in his notebook and didn't look up so I paid him no mind.

I opened my textbook to a story about a woman on trial and there the pretense ended. I spent the rest of that class and two of the next three (not math, I had to pay attention or I would drown) doodling possible designs for my bookcases, paying no mind to anyone in any of my classes. I absentmindedly followed Mike Newton into the cafeteria and into line before I remembered I'd again packed a lunch. I ducked out of line, explaining myself to my new lunchmates and headed toward the cafeteria doors so I could run to my locker and get my food. Except, except…

I was still wrapped up in thoughts of bookcase design looking down instead of where I was going and ran directly into what felt like a block of solid marble. Hard enough that it legitimately hurt.

"Who the fuck left this wall -" I began a tirade but then realized I was staring at a pair of expensive looking shoes, framed by other sets of designer shoes and the legs that were attached. I followed the shoes to dark wash jeans (good choice) up to a black woolen sweater overtop a chiseled body, which was topped by an unnaturally pale, carved by Michelangelo perfect face and golden eyes and bronzed hair. He had instinctively reached out a hand to steady me from my bounce off of him. I stepped back and glanced at the people around him. All of them pale as bone with eyes ranging from golden to deepest black. Like they were all carved from stone. One of them was the enormous boy from my Lit class. Too attractive, too familiar.

A horrified voice whispered in my mind: They're the same as him. That's not possible, it can't be possible. Their eyes aren't red but they feel the same. They have the same inherent menace.

Suddenly, I was terrified, awash with memories of another life, a long time ago. Dazzling sunshine raining down a picturesque New England pond framed by autumn foliage. Playing on the edge of the pond - careful not to go near the water per our parents request. Making the leaves fall from trees in a shower of color and pretty swirls, Madeline giggling at my "magic", then a sparkling man with red eyes appearing from the -

"I'm sorry," I gasped, full blown panic gripping me. "I have to go." I pushed past them, the living marble statues that were the same as him. As soon as I was passed them I all out sprinted to the other side of campus, to the gym, to the bathroom. Wholly unaware they had all turned to watch me with curious faces and that it did not go unnoticed by the student body that the Cullens had finally noticed somebody.