Chapter 1: Avoiding Mike
I wandered into town, my nose stuck in my ancient and beat-up copy of Wuthering Heights. I giggled quietly at the book, earning a couple stares from the village members of Forks, Washington, where I lived with my father, Charlie. Paying the stares no mind, I continued down the main street, chewing on a piece of my chocolate brown hair, and finally collapsing onto the large fountain in the middle of the square, closing the book and dropping it into my bag.
I observed the people shopping at the Saturday outdoor market, snickering at conversations people were having, such as Mrs. Stanley yelling at the bread man that the bread wasn't fresh, when she had just watched him pull it out the oven. She claimed it was a scam, which I thought very rude of her. Turning away from the bread stall, I noticed Mike Newton and his flock of girls, including, ironically, Mrs. Stanley's daughter, Jessica, clustered at the end of the street. They were, in fact, in my way if I wanted to head home to Charlie's little farm on the outskirts of town. This was no doubt Mike's plan to seduce me, which he had been attempting to do since I had moved here from Phoenix 2 months ago. I sighed, running my hand through my hair, trying to decide what to do.
I could attempt to slip past Mike and the hoard of girls unnoticed, but in all regards, Mike would probably notice my absence from the fountain immediately, so that wouldn't work. I considered going out the other end of main street and walking around Forks, but though Forks was not big, it would still take time and effort to walk all that distance. And Mike would follow me if he managed to see which direction I went.
Scanning the marketplace, I spotted a wagon travelling down the street in my home's direction, heading directly past the fountain. Jackpot. I hopped into the back, crouching down so as not to be seen. I poked my head over the side boards carefully to see if anyone had noticed. Satisfied that I was safe, I crouched down again and breathed a sigh of relief. Just as I began to get comfortable, the wagon hit a bump, and I, caught in the middle a shift in weight, toppled out of the wagon. I groaned, partially from the pain of attempting to break my fall with my hand, but mostly from who I happened to fall in front of. Mike Newton. I clutched my wrist to my body and lay back on the road to catch my breath, eyes closed.
"Bella? Are you okay?" a panicked voice I recognized as Mike's asked from above me. I opened my eyes to see him peering down at me, flexing his muscles like they were the best things in the world, trying to show off. I groaned again and pushed myself up with my uninjured hand.
"I think I sprained my wrist or something," I admitted, looking at it critically. It looked like it was already swelling. Can't something go my way for once? I wondered to myself. Mike scooped up my bag and offered me a hand, which I begrudgingly took. Just what I was hoping to avoid, I thought as I got to my feet, brushing my dress off.
"Want me to help you to the doctors?" Mike asked with a boyish grin and a toss of his messy blonde hair.
"I'm good, Mike. It's not my feet that are injured. I'll be fine," I snatched my bag away from Mike and headed toward the all too familiar doctor's house. I could hear Mike trotting along behind me, and the jealous whispers of the girls behind him. I whirled around again, exasperated.
"I'm fine, Mike. Go entertain your posse, I can take care of myself," I snapped.
"Aw, Bella, you know I don't care about them. After all, it's you I want to marry," Mike grinned at me snottily. I cringed. There had been many marriage proposals and comments like this before, each adamantly refused by me. I felt no obligation to say yes to that egomanical, positively primeval man.
"Disgusting, Mike. Get a life of your own and get out of mine." With that new rejection to add to the list, I stalked off again as fast as possible without running, and stepped inside the doctor's office before Mike had a chance to move.
***
"Well, hello, Bella," Dr. Call-Me-Carlisle teased, "What have we injured so early in the day?" I grimaced and held up my wrist, hopping up on the examination table.
"Sprained my wrist, I believe," I replied. Carlisle took my arm as gently as ever and studied it carefully. He nodded and scribbled on his sheet of paper, shoving it into my gigantic folder when he was done.
"A sprained wrist for our resident klutz. You could diagnose yourself with anything, dear Bella. Care to tell me what happened, or do I have to imagine wild stories?" Carlisle continued to tease me while wrapping my wrist up in a bandage. I chuckled at him, unable to help myself.
"I fell out of a wagon," I said, choosing to tell the simple story, rather than the elaborate one. He laughed. "Do you mind if I hide out here for a bit? Mike Newton's following me again."
"No problem," Carlisle said, "That poor boy will never give up on you will he?" I shook my head regretfully and went to peek out the window. Sure enough, Mike was leaning against building across the street, staring intently at the door. Surprisingly, his gaggle of girls hadn't caught up to him yet. Probably busy gossiping about his muscles or something. I snickered and sat down in an armchair Carlisle kept especially for these kinds of days, pulling out Wuthering Heights again.
***
Three hours later I finished the book for what wasn't the first, and probably wouldn't be the last time in my life. I yawned and stood up to look out the window again. Mike was gone after his at least two hour vigil. I would have thought he'd give up earlier than that, considering he probably needed to go drown his sorrows in alcohol. How long did he think it took to treat a sprained wrist? He really was stupid, or just desperate. I knocked on the door that separated the office from the house and cracked it open to tell Carlisle I was leaving. He called out a goodbye and I gently closed the door after giving his wife Esme a grateful smile and wave.
Grabbing my bag, I managed to get out the door, down the street, and across the bridge without injuring myself further. Once in the wide open field full of dandelion seeds, I began to consider what Charlie would like for supper. As chief of police in Forks, he didn't do much all day except lounge in his chair and play cards with the other guys in the department. Nonetheless, he still came home starving every night, and since he had no cooking skills whatsoever, I cooked for us both.
I walked up to the house, intent on supper making when suddenly Charlie came flying out. I stopped in my tracks, startled, but I recovered by the time he was mounting his horse. I ran over to him.
"Um, Dad? Where are you going in such a rush?" I asked.
"Business trip," he wheezed, "I completely forgot, and if I don't leave right now, I won't make it there in time." I rolled my eyes. This was such a Charlie thing.
"When will you be back?" I inquired.
"Two days. Don't get up to any mischief!" he laughed, gathering the reins. I laughed as well.
"Same to you. And don't get lost!" I scolded, backing away from the horse. He waved and set off quickly. I waved as well, and headed into the house.
***
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