"Every book I read and movie I watch seems to give out the same message: high school is the worst experience you can ever have."
Holding Up The Universe by Jennifer Niven

3. Pretty Girl

(Edward's POV)

I go to school in a literal fucking hellhole. I guess the building itself is pretty decent but the snakes who slither around in it are another story altogether. The different cliques you see in films truly do become a disturbing reality when you start high school, and being forced into a set category is unavoidable. Don't get me wrong, I'd rather be generically popular than be like the girl currently about to be slaughtered by Riley Biers.

I think it's Isabella Swan in the firing line again.

With Emmett and Alice, two of my four siblings, by my side, we watched the scene unfold before us. Isabella was frozen in place, a very red and very angry Riley glaring down at her. It was unfathomable how someone could express so much distaste with just their eyes, yet Riley always seemed to go above and beyond. I know him well, I've had a few of my own hostile encounters with him, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't see the—"

Her apology was futile and it seemingly only enraged Riley more. It was like he thought she had no right to even be looking at him, never mind talking to him. It infuriated me that she was just standing there taking it. I didn't even hear his reply because I was way too busy burning a hole into the back of Isabella's head.

Say something, I chanted internally, as if she would be able to hear me.

Then again, what did I know? I'd never been treated the way the kids here treat her. I had no idea what it felt like. I couldn't assume that she was choosing to let it happen to her. It could be that there's only so much you can take before you physically can't respond to it. Maybe they've knocked her so far down the ladder that she can't climb back up.

Even if she was considering a refute, Riley didn't give her a chance to utter a single word. He was gone, leaving fire-y footsteps of rage in his wake. Isabella clutched her books tightly to her chest, dropping her head for a few moments. I could only begin to imagine what was going through her mind right now. I let out a breath of air when she walked unsteadily forward, abandoning the hallway full of pathetic students. The laughter didn't stop, even when we could no longer see her.

I got a slip during last period telling me to go and speak with Mr. Banner in Sc4 at the end of the day. Rumour has it that I'm being moved to an advanced Biology class next week and Banger (a joke among us immature juniors) is my new teacher. I hate having to stay behind but I guess the bonus is that I won't get crushed in the mob descending the levels. It doesn't matter who you are, or how loved you may be, it's every man for himself on the stairway.

When I left my final class, I speedily made my way through the crowded hallways. People were throwing me smiles and pleasantries left, right, and centre. The attention gets annoying sometimes, especially when I'm trying to have a private conversation with one of my siblings and someone takes it upon themselves to join in.

I took the stairs two by two, in a rush to be done with this and get home to relax. I had a homework free night, a blessing my teachers had bestowed upon me today. It was abnormal to not have anything school-related to do, but I certainly wasn't complaining. Though, I bet the load will double if I get moved to this new class. It'll be mostly seniors present, with a few clever juniors, and I'd be forced to do whatever it takes to try to keep up.

Suddenly, something small and hard crashed into my chest, completely knocking the wind out of me. It took me a few seconds longer than it should have to realise I'd just collided with another human being.

"Holy shit, are you okay? Hell, that hurt."

I have pretty good pain tolerance but I couldn't even attempt to hide that the impact bloody hurt. What was she made of? Fucking stone? I hunched over, trying to catch my breath to no avail. Thick, mahogany hair swept across my face as she steadied herself. For some peculiar reason, the first thought that crossed my mind was that this girl smelled amazing.

"I'm fine. Are you okay? How many times in one day can that possibly hap—" she stopped short when our eyes met for the first time.

A silent introduction to one another. It was indescribable, the way the air surrounding us changed within the space of about three seconds. What started out as an innocent apology quickly became something so much more. Our faces were much closer than they should be for two people who had just met. Her eyes were a lovely shade of brown, very dark but very enchanting. I was momentarily lost in them, until they widened in alarm.

She couldn't move away from me quick enough, bumping into the railing behind her.

I subconsciously began to look the unusual, disliked girl up and down. She was quite thin, perhaps overly so, and she was small. Her skin was paler than mine and I'd be willing to bet I'd be able to see the veins in her wrists vividly due to its translucency. Don't get me wrong, it was beautiful, but it made her look so fragile. She had a light trail of freckles over her nose and along her curved cheekbones. She was wearing her long hair down loose and it cascaded over her shoulders, providing a curtain for her to hide behind. It would block out everything going on or being said around her.

The girl was pretty, there was no doubt about it. How I hadn't noticed it until now was beyond me. I figured it had something to do with actually paying attention to her, rather than noticing her because of a dramatic showdown was taking place in the hallway. In society, those who look better get treated better. No matter how much I dislike this concept, it's sadly true. It left me reeling, unable to comprehend why someone who looked the way she did—innocent, vulnerable, beautiful—was being targeted so extremely. Whatever the reason, I was suddenly blisteringly aware that she most certainly didn't deserve it.

"I'm fine, too," I told her, answering her question from before. "You have lovely eyes."

Isabella frowned at me, probably just as confused as I felt.

I shook my head at both of us, a smile making its way onto my face, before continuing my trek to Banger's classroom without another word.

When I finally got home, I went in search of my father to tell him about the advanced Biology move. He'll love it, considering he's the so-called best doctor in town. I naturally assumed he would be in his office on the second floor so that's where I went. Without thinking, I entered the room abruptly, the door smacking against the wall behind it.

I cringed, muttering, "Oops."

"Are you alright?" he asked, instantly alarmed.

"Yeah... I'm fine."

"How many times have I told you to knock before you open a closed door?" He gave me a flat look.

"I just wanted to tell you something, if you have a minute." I frowned, noticing that he looked rather preoccupied with some papers on his desk. "What are you doing?"

"I have a few new patients because of Kate's departure. However, I'm completely stumped by one in particular. I'm just looking over her files just now but I've never encountered such a lack of information." He chuckled. "Five different health professionals have signed this, meaning they've all met with her and assessed her. Yet, it's as if none of them could figure her out. I'm intrigued."

"Don't you usually have, like, a folder full of information on each patient?" I asked, giving the sheet of paper in his hand an extraordinarily curious glance.

"Usually."

"Mysterious," I said quietly, knowing better than to ask who the patient was.

"It certainly is." He scanned the page once more before he spoke again, "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"I'm starting an advanced Biology class on Monday."

"That's great," he said, grinning. "I've always said you're going to be like me."

"Thanks, dad."

He went back to that piece of paper again, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It seemed to really be stressing him out but it was strictly confidential, so there was nothing I could do. Instead, my eyes landed on an old painting hanging on the wall to my right. It was one I'd never noticed before in my life and the traditionally dressed humans on the canvas had me wondering. It looked Italian, although I couldn't be sure. It was my father who was obsessed with antiques, definitely not me.

"Edward?" I looked back to him, letting him know he had my attention. "Is there anyone at school who... acts weirdly?"

"Dad, there are a lot of people at school who act weirdly."

"That's likely to be true but does anyone stand out to you in particular? I mean, you know everyone, right?"

"I know who most people are but I can't say I know them all personally," I told him honestly, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Alright, uh..." He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples roughly. "Nevermind."

"Okay."

What the hell was that all about?

I turned to walk out of the room, deciding that was a good conversation ender, and made my way down to the kitchen for some food. My plans were interrupted by an angry Alice, storming up the stairs towards me.

"You're a horrible, cruel and disrespectful slug, Rosalie!" she called over her shoulder.

"What's going on?" I asked her, mildly concerned.

"I don't know, Edward, what is going on?" she asked me wryly, laughing psychotically. "You better not be treating people the way Riley does, or even the way Rose did today. If you are, you and I are going to have a serious problem."

"What did she do now?"

"She said something to Tanya in English. Of course, because Tanya is Tanya, the whole room knew what it was within about three minutes and everyone was laughing at Bella."

"Bella?"

"Bella Swan."

"Isabella?" I questioned, coming to the silent conclusion that no one in our school was called Bella.

"Jesus Christ, Edward! I call her Bella. She's in a few of my classes."

"Oh," I mumbled lamely.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this," she whined before pushing passed me and leaping up the stairs, unexpectedly graceful considering her anger.

"What on earth is going on in this house?" my mom shouted from the rough direction of the kitchen.

"I wish I knew," I whispered, shaking my head.