By the end of the week, my routine is pretty much established. I would wake up, usually after Charlie had left, and go to school. English, with a brusque greeting in passing from Eric. Mike and Tyler try to chat me up on the way to Government, but I got the impression that they were more interested in trying to social one up the other than really communicate with me in any sort of meaningful way. After Government, I would meet Jess in the bathroom nearest to Trig where she would be reapply lip-balm and we would chat a bit before class. She made that first few days more bearable, helping me get the lay of the social system and figuring out what not to do without having to step in it first. Jess was so ready to gossip with me, or rather at me, and while I didn't do more than the required oohing and awing as necessary for her to feel as though she told a good story, I did get really good information about the students around me.

Next came lunch, where I got to chat with Angela, who I was coming to like more and more whenever we spent time together. Where Jess was unapologetic and brazen, Ang was earnest and genteel. She was the most decent person I had met so far, though I could never admit that without sounding very conceded. I simply smiled genuinely back at her and lent her my support in every way that I could.

Lunch was also important because it gave me the opportunity to check and see if he was there. He never was, absent from his table of solitude or from his chair with his adopted siblings.

I went to biology, actually with Angela beside me, but more often than not, she gave way to Mike who chatted happily about anything and everything. I kind of got the impression that he just really wanted to be around me, and honestly, just that was nice to have around. I had no doubt that I would never date Mike, but his company was appreciated. He would then join me after Bio on the way to Gym, where I was almost late more than once because he needed to finish some train of thought, us standing outside the door to the girls' locker room, getting odd or knowing looks as the other girls passed inside.

After the travesty and devastation that was Gym, I would head home, if I don't have any errands. Once home, I would do homework, occasionally read, or email my mother. After I had forgotten for the first thirty six hours of being in Forks and nearly had her calling Charlie to send out a search party, I didn't make the mistake of delaying a message again.

Once dinner rolled around, I would prepare a meal, to which Charlie usually came home to right about the time I was plating. He and I would sit at the table and eat, occasionally commenting about our days. The longest conversation we had happened on Friday, which was made all the more disconcerting because Charlie brought it up.

"Do you know Edward Cullen?" he asked a bit out of the blue.

Considering that I had just been thinking about him, I found myself wondering if he had suddenly become a telepath.

"I know of him," I said hesitantly. "Why?"

"Oh," said Charlie, backpedaling. "It's just… he is one of the doctor's boys, and he apparently has been out of school. Something about his brother getting sick. I just wondered if you knew anything more."

I snorted, which got me a raised eyebrow from Charlie.

"Dad," I said, a bit indulgently. "I am not exactly a social butterfly. I have been at this school for four days, and he left early on my first day, like five minutes into the only class I have with him. I don't know anything about him, save for he is the doctor's adopted son."

And he wrote in a notebook with a fancy pen. And his copper hair could shine even under fluorescent lights. And that even if he was angry, he was still the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. I was pretty sure that if he ever came back, and looked at me with any sort of pleasant expression, I would very probably faint.

"I don't know much about him either," said Charlie. "They moved into town around the same time you started high school. That's the only reason I remember when. I thought that we might have some trouble, since rich boys in small towns have a tendency to make their own fun, but there wasn't anything. They spend time together like a family should, camping and the like. The kids are apparently straight A students and even though they keep to themselves, they are friendly enough."

I wondered for the hundred million billionth time what I did to get the death stare.

"They sound like nice people," I said.

"Just," said Charlie, "don't get to friendly with him."

For a moment, I felt like he had read my mind again.

"Huh?" I asked, feeling a bit shaky.

"I just mean…" said Charlie. "Are you… uh… dating-"

I nearly toppled my chair in my sudden need to get a glass of water.

"No," I said, embarrassed, after I had drain my glass, refilled it, and brought back to the table.

"No," I said again, sitting. "I am not dating."

"Good," Charlie said. "That's good."

Other than that, Charlie pretty much left me alone. If he needed to talk to me, he did it whenever he bumped into me in the house. He never came to my room, except for the singular time when I found a canister of pepper spray and a rape whistle on my bedside table. Other than that, he never did so much as knock at my door.

The weekend broke up the routine a bit. I did chores and washed clothes and was more alone than I would have been back in Phoenix. Charlie spent most of his free time fishing, which I could tell he was anxious about now that I was living with him. But I encouraged him not to turn his life upside down on my account and he relented, even if he didn't relax. I filled my time with homework and emails and finding things to do around the house and reading and, of course, thinking of Edward Cullen.

But Sunday night, after dinner was eaten and a shower was had and I was trying once again for sleep to take me in this cold and windy and sleepless place, something frightening occurred to me; what if he never comes back? What if my questions were never answered? What if I never saw him again? I honestly wasn't sure which idea I didn't like the most.

Monday was an altogether miserable day. I was one of the coldest yet since I had been in Forks. Walking out of first period, bits of flaky fluff were falling almost lazily down.

"What is that?" I asked to no one in particular, but Mike still answered.

"It's snow," he said.

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"You know?" he said smiling. "Snow? You've never seen snow before?"

"No," I said.

"Man, Bella," he laughed. "I can't even imagine what that's like."

"What are you talking about?" I asked in exasperation. "You were born in California!"

"I…" he seemed stunned. "Yeah, I was. How did you know that?"

Jessica had told me. She had told me a lot about Mike. She presented me with so much hoarded information, I was pretty sure she was harboring a major crush and probably some pretty lusty feelings. And, I wasn't about to out her either.

"I heard it around," I said vaguely. "Somewhere. I don't really remember."

I wasn't really a lie. So much was happening that first week. I could have heard it in any number of places. Jess hadn't yet started calling me, but I got the impression that we were about two good conversations away from exchanging numbers and carrying on our more gossipy gossip sessions at home with less chance of being overheard.

I was about to say something more when the first snowball landed. Luckily, it was aimed at Mike and not me, but that just meant I got the bits that decided oh so meanly to bounce my way. The squeal that escaped me as flecks of ice spattered my neck got a louder response from Mike than the snowball.

"Are you okay?" he chuckled.

"I don't like cold," I found myself pouting. "Or ice. Especially ice that is on my skin!"

I pulled up my binder in self-defense as the second ball landed. Mike suddenly got a mischievous look in his eye and reached down to scrape up a palm of the slush around him.

"Mike," I said with the most dead-serious expression I could muster. "If you throw that at me, I will never, ever forgive you."

The ball fell in a sodden heap, his expression staggered and a little amazed.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and his expression turned to something way more admiring than I really felt comfortable with. I hurried to class.

After two more classes and nearly twice as many dodged snowballs, I was finally making my way to the cafeteria. The snow was beginning to melt already, and the rest was coming down as a fine drizzle, wiping away what little clustered chunks were left. I couldn't believe that I was actually happy to see rain again, but my happiness was short lived.

I was heading to the line with Jess when my eyes strayed as they usually did over to where the Cullens sat. There were five people sitting there. He was half turned from me, his hair like a beacon in the largish room. I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach and my heart accelerate to pure fight or flight levels. As if cued, he turned and looked right at me. Without a conscious thought, I stepped behind Jess, thankful her hair was high today and that she could conceal me completely.

"Hey," she said. "What's up with you?"

"Hm?" I replied.

"You look funny," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, no," I said. "I uh…"

"Well," she said, "that clears that up…"

I got only an apple in line, my stomach not feeling up for much more.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked.

"I might be sick," I said. I wondered if I could leave early. But who was I kidding? I had never skipped a single class in my life.

As we took our seats, I risked a glance back at the table. He was talking with his siblings, a sort of resolute look about him. The muscles in his jaw were really pronounced, like his jaw was clenched but still moving at the same time. He looked a little tense and a lot defensive. As I looked around, I could tell the rest of his family was similarly cast, only they looked more worried and rather unhappy. When I moved to look at Alice, she was already looking my way, and it was at that point that I realized that it really was about me.

How was this possible? How could this be about me? I was no one and nothing and didn't do anything to him! And yet, all this disruption was somehow my fault.

I didn't eat the apple. I decided to skip class. I was determined to make my way to my truck and drive off and possibly hop on the next plane back to Arizona if not just drive there in my truck without even going back to Charlie's for my clothes. But then I would have to in order to pick up my money. So I started forming plans and writing checklists in my head and figuring out who I needed to call and when, which made it all the more infuriating when I found myself walking into Biology.

I tried not to stop dead in my tracks because, naturally, he was already there. He was sitting back in his chair, looking away from the empty seat beside him. He looked as though he could be lost in thought, but there was no denying that his tension was still very much present in the set of his jaw and the way his hand clutched his arm.

I felt myself looking down. I was about to sit next to this boy in all his designer and gorgeous glory. And here I was, in worn jeans under a mid-length woolen skirt and an unflattering green sweater that's only redeeming value was its unbelievably gratifying warmth. I was secondhand, plain, average, superfluous. He was stylish, elegant, courtly somehow, a walking superlative. I would have felt inadequate, if there was anyone in their right mind who thought the two of us could be grouped in any way, shape, or form.

Taking a deep breath and pushing away the overwhelming thought of what I was about to do, I kept walking towards my desk, determined to get some answers. And, that was exactly when I caught my foot on a desk and almost fell. As I staggered, I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, steadying me, but as I straightened, no one was in evidence. I looked over, aghast that he might have witnessed my klutzy self, but he hadn't even moved. I wasn't sure what was worse, that he might have seen me or that he didn't care enough to notice.

I took my seat, feeling suddenly very different. He had glared at me, run away, and now he was back. He owed me an explanation, an apology, and I was going to get it, even if I-

"Hello."

For what seemed like the better part of the class, I didn't move. That voice was… indescribable. It was like sugar melting into warm water, resonant and clear, with all the satisfaction of scratching a long ignored itch. It was clean and yet with just the bit of a gravelly edge to it, as though restrained, but restrained against what? It was so rich and with so many depths, I could have listened to it all day, content to just try and catch every layer.

"My name is Edward," he said.

He was talking to me? He was looking at me!

I didn't even remember turning to face him, but I was. I was looking at his face, a bare foot from mine, his expression pleasant and slightly amused. I felt the edges of my vision go gray, and I, for which I was so very thankful, didn't actually faint. But, it was a close thing.

His expression twitched.

"And," he said with just a little extra weight behind the words, "you are?"

Completely unable to speak, that's what I was.

I looked away. Class was about to start, and I wasn't about to open my mouth. I was sort of concerned that I might stare slack-jawed at him, so I was resigned to clamping my mouth shut.

"You are being very rude, Bella," he said, and I could tell if he was more amused or irritated that I wasn't responding.

I glanced back at him. How did he know my name?

"Why should I answer?" I asked somewhat glibly. "You already seem to know who I am."

There was something here, something that was bugging me, like I wasn't getting all the pieces, but I could see a few of them and it didn't make any sense.

His lips twisted in a very appealing way that dragged my gaze to them. I decided immediately that looking at his mouth was a very bad idea.

"It is customary to introduce yourself to someone when you first meet," he said, his words rolling and sliding over me, seeming to orient themselves down my spine and back up again, "even if you know the other's name."

I was somewhat torn by his words. On the one hand, I wasn't about to be talked down to by anyone, no matter how handsome they were. On the other, he made it really hard to be anything but enamored by him.

"Hello, Edward," I managed to say without too much of an edge to my voice. "I'm Isabella, but I insist everyone calls me Bella, as you have already gathered."

That was it. How did he know that? It wasn't as though he had been present any of the times I had corrected him. He didn't seem to be one for gossip. Yet, he knew the preference I had for my name. He might have been able to overhear it. Then, a truly frightening notion popped its way into my head; could he have been paying attention to me, even if indirectly? I quickly pushed that thought aside.

He was still a moment, and it was a very weird sort of stillness. It was like flipping a switch, like all the animation went out of him, completely. For the barest moment, he didn't register as a living person. Then he tsked.

"Well, Just Bella," he said. "It was hard to miss."

Jess hadn't let off of that for the entire last week. Between that and her ability to gossip, I was surprised that one hadn't gotten back to my mom already. So why did that just seem like a convenient explanation?

Class started, but he didn't seem interested in paying attention to biology today.

"I apologize for not introducing myself last week," he said more evenly. "I was not in the best of moods."

"How is your brother?" I asked, my words biting. I wasn't sure if I was more annoyed by his excuses, the fact that he seemed to be lying to me, or that we were supposed to be paying attention to Mr. Banner lab assignment.

"Better," he said shortly. "Thank you for asking."

His words were polite but also slightly wistful. I decided to lighten up.

"I am glad he is doing well," I said.

Mr. Banner started passing out the labs and slides. We were comparing the stages of Mitosis. I had done this lab before, but why bring that up?

"No using the book," Mr. Banner sighed. "Let's see how well you all were paying attention to the homework. Get started."

I was already taking the slide and setting it on the stage when I remembered that I had a lab partner.

"Um," I said thickly, "did you want to do the first slide?"

"Go ahead," he said, his smirk just a little insulting. I wasn't sure if he was going to let me do all the work, but then I remembered that he was supposed to be some glowing example of scholarly perfection. He was probably waiting for me to get it wrong so he could judge me for my inferiority or something.

I switched over to the appropriate magnification, quickly adjusted the stage with a practiced hand and focused on the cells indicated.

"Prophase," I said assuredly. I turned and looked at him, only he wasn't where I expected. He had moved closer, silently, and was now shoulder to shoulder with me, so close that I couldn't see his whole face at once.

"May I?" he asked. I was pretty sure I still had lungs. I was just having trouble locating them at the moment. I nodded, leaning back, but not really wanting to.

"Prophase," he agreed. With quick and efficient motions, he replaced the next slide, doing so with more familiarity than I would have imagined Mr. Banner possessing. Once in place he checked, and then moved aside for me to look, saying nothing.

"Anaphase," I said.

He nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face, "That was my assertion as well."

He marked the lab as I prepared the next slide, and we continued like that, back and forth, only he actually stated his answer when he looked first the next time his turn came around. We made short work of the lab, after which we were left with little to do. No one seemed anywhere close to done. Mr. Banner was walking around, seeming to have to help half the class to even make sure their settings were correct.

"You seem unhappy," he said into the silence.

I looked at him. He was studying my face, that same sort of intensity he had when he was writing in his notebook last week. Whatever was flying around in my stomach, they seemed too big to be butterflies.

"What's your point?" I asked, trying to catch my breath.

"Are you unhappy?" he asked, his face strange, almost perturbed.

"Are you angry?" I asked right back.

He registered confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

"You glared at me that first day in class," I pointed out, not believing that I was actually bringing this up.

"Yes," he said, his voice drawn out, abashed.

"Care to explain that?" I asked pointedly.

"I believe that I-" he started.

I interrupted, "said you were not in the best mood. That hardly explains a thing. If you want to know personal information about me, the least you could do is be willing to share some of your own."

He was quiet for a long moment, then looked away from me.

"I wasn't expecting… you," he said.

Of course. It was all my fault. I knew it. I looked away. I opened my mouth to offer to trade partners with someone else, but then I closed my mouth. I didn't want to do that. Even with all the glaring, I didn't want to leave. And that was a really special kind of stupid.

"Did I upset you?" he asked.

"No," I said quickly. "I'm fine."

He looked confused, "Last week."

Now I was confused, "Huh?"

Wow, just fantastic use of verbiage there.

His face seemed to settle, "I only meant, did I upset you last week? With my rudeness."

I really could get used to that voice.

"Yes," I said. Wait, what? I answered him. Honestly?!

His face became thoughtful.

"Why?" he asked, considering.

"Why?" I repeated. "Because I am not accustomed to perfect strangers looking at me like they want to kill me when I have done nothing wrong. That's why."

His eyes were on mine. I couldn't remember seeing them move; they were just on mine. He looked so serious and so still.

"You're right," he said. "You did nothing wrong."

I thought about how his sentence was worded.

"But I did something?" I asked.

He snapped his tongue, "Not as such."

"Then why?" I asked.

His chest swelled, as though he were taking a deep breath, but I didn't hear any air pass through his nose.

"I can't explain," he said, sounding almost sad.

"You don't have to explain," I said, feeling suddenly like I was meddling in his life, at the same time as I wanted to.

His lips turned up in one corner… was… was he smiling?!

"I only mean that there isn't really a way to adequately convey it," he said. "Not with my limitations. Like speech and such."

"You could try," I hedged, feeling decidedly eager for some reason.

"You would simply think I am mad," he said. From the context, I got that he didn't mean angry.

"No I wouldn't," I protested.

I looked to see his eyes on me, looking at my face. It wasn't nearly as intense as before, or at least, not in the same way. There was a sort of vulnerability in his eyes, as though he was looking at my face to seek some sign that I was being honest with him, that he might trust me.

"Would you not?" he said so quietly, the whisper shivered its way down to my toes and back to my hair again.

"Why did you come here?" he asked.

I was so off-kilter with his dark eyes and open expression, I answered again without filtering my thoughts.

"My mother remarried," I said.

He processed this new information.

"Are congratulations in order?" he asked.

"Yeah, yes," I said quickly. "Phil is great. Good for my mother. He is young, and Mom is young at heart. I think he will need some time to understand that she doesn't always make the best decisions and that she often needs a lot of help, but he cares enough about her to get there."

"So," he surmised. "He is someone you approve of. That offers even less explanation as to why you moved here, some place where you are clearly unhappy."

"I am perfectly happy, thank you very much," I said scathingly.

He chuckled.

It was the most amazing and fascinating thing I had ever witnessed in my entire life. His black eyes danced, the animation in his face glorious and wondrous, the sort of thing that draws the eye and holds it better than a masterful artwork. His smile was stunning, his teeth perfect and perfectly white. His previous beauty was nothing compared with this. My sight grayed and darkened at the edges again. And that was just a chuckle. Had he laughed, I really would have passed out.

"I would not argue with a lady," he said. "I will but let your tone speak for itself."

It wasn't fair. How could I even have a conversation with him!? I realized that if I wanted to have an actually coherent dialogue with him, I would need practice, and that idea was very much to my liking.

"Okay," I admitted, "I am not a fan of the weather."

"Then why come here?" he asked.

"Phil travels for work," I said.

"What is his profession?" he asked politely.

"He plays baseball," I said, feeling embarrassed to have to admit that.

"So he traveled and your mother stayed with you," he said.

"No," I said. "I wouldn't let her. They would settle down eventually, but Phil needs to find a team first. Until then, I wasn't going to split up the newlyweds."

His eyes went wide, "You? Your mother didn't…?"

"No," I said a bit harshly, not liking his insinuation.

"But why?"

"I told you," my tone still a bit haughty from his previous comment. "I wasn't going to get between them."

"You mean to say," he said, sounding disbelieving, "that you moved in with your father in a place you are unhappy, simply to preserve you mother's happiness?"

"Yeah," I said between clenched teeth, facing front.

He was quiet a moment.

"That seems rather backwards, don't you think?" he asked rhetorically. "Shouldn't your mother be the one to make sacrifices for you?"

I turned to glare at him.

"What my family and I do is no business of yours," I said hotly. "I don't need your judgment or your condescension. Why are you even talking to me?"

"You interest me," he said, as honest and bluntly as I had answered so many of his questions. I was having problems with locating the lungs again.

"I'm not that interesting," I mumbled, picking at the corner of my textbook.

"I disagree," he said easily. "However, I can see that I insulted you. That was not my intent. My most gracious apologies."

"Finished already?" asked Mr. Banner. I nearly jumped out of my seat.

"Yes," said Edward. He offered the paper to our teacher. I took the opportunity to remember that I was in school.

"Next time," said Mr. Banner, "perhaps you can let your partner do some of her own work."

Edward's face was completely blank.

"She identified three of the five before I did," he said. "Correctly and without aid of any kind."

Mr. Banner looked at me, I was glad that I was too embarrassed to be angry and too angry to be embarrassed. Otherwise, I would be beet red.

"Is that true?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Yes, sir," I said, feeling like my tongue was too thick and was competing for space in my mouth with at least a half dozen marbles.

He looked rightly put in his place. He mumbled something as he walked away. This time, Edward's chuckle was dark. It wasn't nearly as overwhelming, but it was just as fascinating.

"What is so funny?" I asked.

"I don't understand you at all," he said. "I like it."

After how obvious my every move was to my mother, this sort of surprised me.

"That's strange," I said. "My mother says I'm an open book, my face is so easy to read."

He shook his head, "I don't often have to be good at understanding people. People are usually very simple to understand. You… aren't."

What did that even mean? I was hard to understand? Was that a good thing? It didn't sound like a good thing.

Then, looking at him as I was, I remembered the truth. It wasn't exactly like he and I could be friends. His league and my league was so vastly different places, I might was well be back in Phoenix.

I opened my book and began to read, and he didn't disturb me for the rest of class. As soon as the bell rang, I got up. He remained seated as I gather up my things, and I resolutely turned my back on him and walked out of class without another word. As I walked out, I risked a darting glance to him. He was still sitting there, looking at me walk away, an expression tinged with regret and concern and bewilderment. I marched to Gym, past a questioning Mike and trying to figure out why this sucked so much.