Author's Note—This is a continued flashback of Bella's life two years before the beginning of the story. It will continue until I think I have thoroughly explained the backstory. I will most definitely make it clear when we are back to present day.
PS- I love my readers. I wanna make that soooo clear. Thank you guys; it honestly warmed my heart every time I get a review.
PPS- I posted pictures of Bella and Jasper on my profile—MY versions of them. The versions I'm visualizing for this story. Check 'em out! Jasper's sexilicious, of course.
PPPS- I know I write with a lot of details. I describe or explain pointless tidbits. Let me know If you like it, or if I should focus on dialog.
"Expect nothing, live frugally on surprise." – Alice Walker
I finally managed to close my eyes and drift into the lightest of doses. Renee was still asleep, with her head resting on my legs, and my sweatshirt draped over her shoulders.
People had always commented that I was the one raising her, but I had never known what they'd meant until now. It wasn't right for a fifteen-year-old girl to have to put aside her wants and needs in order to protect her mother. Logically, I knew this, but emotionally, I knew I wouldn't be able to respect myself if I didn't do everything in my power to keep Renee safe and happy.
I heard my alarm buzz, loud and unrelenting, from my desk. I groaned, but it sounded more like a sob. Shifting Renee to the floor, I quickly stopped the buzzing before Doug came to 'help'. Renee sleepily crawled onto my bed, then passed out again.
I grabbed a new set of clothes, with my favorite 'Taking Back Sunday' tee for good luck, and my bag of toiletries. I dashed to the bathroom as quickly and quietly as possible, took a three-minute shower in lukewarm water (it didn't get any warmer than that without at least ten minutes to warm up) and towel-dried my long, brown hair. Getting dressed quickly, I brushed my teeth, while examining the fresh bruise on my cheek. It wasn't too bad—I'd gotten worse from falling down stairs. I was a master at makeup tricks.
The longest part of my routine was my eyes—They were big and brown and fairly pretty, but painfully average. I traced a sweeping line of blue liquid-liner on my top lid, with black smudged on bottom. I finished with black mascara, and looked at the finished product.
It looked pretty good—the bruise didn't show at all, and the makeup covered the dark circles under my eyes.
***
I felt guilty for leaving Renee to go to school, but I had to—it would be important to keep up appearances that everything was fine. I woke her up before I left, to make sure she would be able to function.
I hoped she didn't have a concussion—if she did, I should have kept her awake, shouldn't I!?
I had never dealt with this kind of thing before. She looked okay, except for a nasty black eye.
"Bella, honey, thank you. I'm fine—Doug didn't mean anything by it, he just was a little upset. It was my fault, I started it. We'll all be okay now, right?" she said with this naïve, hopeful smile. I couldn't bring myself to nod. I knew it wouldn't be a one-time thing, and my self-protection warred with my need to comfort Renee. Renee won.
"Yeah, mom, everything will be okay, I'm sure."
She nodded, reassured, like my confirmation cleared everything up. Like saying everything's ok made it true. I worried for my loving, naïve, scatterbrained mother. I don't see how she ever survived before I was born.
I didn't have a ride, or even an umbrella, so my jacket was drenched by the time I got to my school. It was only about a ten-minute walk, and it would have been a lot faster if I didn't keep slipping and falling on my ass. My clothes were damp, my jacket dripped on my soaking converse, and my hair echoed my mood—flat, dripping, dark and heavy. By some miracle, the fabric of my backpack repelled water, so thank everything, all my stuff was intact.
It wasn't too hard to find the front office in a school that small. I walked in the front door and was already spitting-distance from the secretary. Not that I wanted to spit on the secretary... She was in the principle's office, but her desk was behind a little glass window so she could observe the halls, or assist lost, dripping new students.
I told her who I was, and she looked at me like she was appraising me. Apparently she didn't approve, so she averted her eyes as she shoved a map, a schedule, and a student handbook through the slot in the window.
"Will that be all?" she trilled in an unpleasant, nasally voice. Without waiting for an answer, she waved me off, getting up and walking away to answer the phone. NOW I wanted to spit on the secretary…
I stopped at my locker first, putting away my extra books and wringing out my coat. Then I looked at my schedule:
First Period- French/ Madame Kyse
Second Period-Health/ Mr. Dexton
Third Period-Chemistry/ Mr. Fischer
Fourth Period-Geometry/ Mrs. Jensen
Lunch
Fifth Period-English/ Mrs. Renske
Sixth Period- Choir/ Mrs. Schwimmer
Seventh Period-Phys Ed/ Ms. Arnold
It only took a few minutes to work out the map—the high school building was considerably smaller than my elementary school in Phoenix. The other new freshmen had no problem, either—however, they had probably been in the building hundreds of times, for town meetings or school plays, or whatever small towns did for fun.
I got to my French class only a few seconds before the bell rang, and my teacher, a tiny old woman with a strict bun in her hair, told me to introduce myself to the class in French. I blushed, stuttered, and tripped to my seat. The rest of the class was spent deflecting curious stares and trying to learn how to melt.
***
The first half of the day, I was getting the lay of the land. Not so much literally—it was quite easy to find my way around. But socially, I was a bit lost. The girls at the school seemed to behave in one of two ways toward me—either disdainfully, casting disparaging looks at my makeup and clothes; or curious, trying to start conversations or dig dirt on the only new girl- intrigued by the novelty. Nobody seemed genuinely nice.
The guys at school either looked at me like I was an alien, or tried to be… let's just say, overly-friendly. I got quite a few Doug-like creepy looks, and when I was walking to lunch, somebody grabbed my ass.
I whipped my head around to cuss out the culprit, but everybody had diligently averted their eyes, muffling their giggles behind their hands. I flushed scarlet, and resumed a faster pace, making my way into the cafeteria.
That's the first time I saw him.
Sorry bout the cliffie! =] Jazzy will be in the next chapter!! *Squee*