I sat down in the art room next to some girl with straight blonde hair and sickly perfume. I wanted to gag, but I shouldn't judge, she could be a nice person. I sighed, stowing my bag on the floor and propping head on my hand, staring at the front of the room.
The art teacher came to my desk then, handing me a sheet that told me what this semester was on—abstract impressionism. She directed me to some blank canvases and handed me an art diary to practice and sketch out ideas in. I peeked at the girl next to me, she smiled seductively, winking.
I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting that kind of attention from her.
She was about to say something when we heard a loud curse from the door. "Fuck!" a girl screeched.
My eyebrows shot up—scandalous language at a seemingly conservative establishment, it was Forks after all.
A guy, my age, brown hair and skin stood at the door with his hand on the knob, a smirk on his face.
There was a girl—the girl from the cafeteria—standing there, her hand clamped to her nose. I frowned.
This guy was a douche bag; it looked like he was amused after hitting a girl in the face with a door. I watched as she stormed in the room, hiding behind her hair—her thick mahogany curls—and made her way to a desk, by herself.
I almost got up and asked if she was okay.
But that would add fuel to the fire—my need for human interaction, and I couldn't gather the strength to do so, so I just watched. She grumbled silently, scowling at the floor while she picked up a rather large canvas. She seemed to notice my intrusive gaze, looking up and meeting my eyes.
She quickly looked away, blushing behind her hair. I frowned—why did she have to hide her face? She must not be a people person. Fair enough, I wasn't either, nor did I intend to start.
***
After learning the mystery girl's name, I felt so extremely exposed. I had actually spoken to her, she had spoken to me.
I heard her faint goodbye through the door as I stalked off, afraid of my conversing.
Afraid that if I got to know her, we might become friends.
I was in no position to have friends, I wasn't in the right frame of mind and in no way did I deserve them. I shouldn't have told her my name. I shouldn't have touched her. The feel of her against me—I couldn't breathe. I nailed it down to just the complete lack of physical contact from anyone.
That must be the reason for my weird reaction—my incapability to form a coherent sentence...the electric current that sizzled in my veins. I shook my head vigorously from side to side, jumping in my Volvo and speeding out of the parking lot, only just missing a light pole on the way out.
I shouldn't involve myself in other people. It was only asking for trouble. I only had enough room in my head for Carlisle.
Even letting myself talk to him was asking a lot from the Universe. I needn't push my luck any farther then. The purr of the engine came to complete silence. I glanced out my window—I was already at home. I was surprised, firstly at how quick the trip was, secondly, how I managed to make it all the way without the faintest idea of where I was going. This town was completely new to me. I didn't mind Forks.
There were hardly any people here, though that fact could be categorised into two opposite things. Good: There were less people, as previously stated. That meant that there were less people to run into, to strike a conversation with, to get to know. Then there was bad: There were less people here. It was a small town, everybody knew everybody. I cringed at that thought. Everyone in town could already know my name already.
People were bound to get to know me, even if I didn't want them to. Unless Carlisle kept his mouth shut. No matter how grateful I was for him taking me in less than a year ago, I still didn't want him freely sharing my personal life with anyone, anyone at all.
And, I was pretty sure that he wouldn't be flapping his gums to his friends or co-workers—or Esme. Esme was Carlisle's girlfriend, fiancée—I wasn't sure, but I knew they weren't married. I had only lived with Carlisle for several months, but I already felt like I knew him, which was dangerous territory. I made a mental note to slowly detach myself from him. I would be polite, as always toward him and Esme if need be, but I wouldn't talk personally.
It wasn't worth it. The tingling sensation in my arms didn't stop all night. I could hardly sleep, my mind submerged in a pool of brown. Two pools of chocolate brown to be exact—those chocolate brown eyes. I groaned gutturally, pulling my pillow onto my face and sighing, trying to catch some shut eye.
My mind drifted into an unconscious slumber, finally numbing. But I had hoped for a dreamless sleep—looks like I was asking too much, again. This time, my dream revolved around a car crash. I was actually in the car, watching my parents from the back seat, talking joyfully. I smiled at them. Then the car collided, they screamed.
No sound would come from my mouth. Suddenly, I appeared to be outside of the car, feet away, watching my mother and father trying to claw their way out of the crumpled mess of metal. I still couldn't find my voice. It was as if I had watched them die—it was me who had asked my mother to go out anyway.
If I had just gone out myself, they would still be here. I looked straight into my mother's pleading eyes, thick blood gushing from a wound on her head. She lifted a pale hand to me. "Help," she whispered in a scratchy, eerie voice. I woke with a start, sweat beading on my forehead and neck.
I shuddered, gathering my legs up and sitting in the foetal position. I clenched my eyes shut, shaking my head, rocking back and forth until the images went away. I couldn't stand them. Instead, I let myself think of that girl—Bella. I breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing back onto my pillow. Bella... Strange, that I should invest my sanity into something as flimsy and unreliable as teenage relationships. But, something told me I had nothing to worry about. I closed my eyes again, breathing slowly, feeling my chest heave up and down with each inhale. I could feel my tensed muscles relaxing again, not expecting the release the thought of a mere girl would give me.
I pulled the covers back over me, I had gotten cold again. I wondered about the girl. I wondered what she was like. Of course, I hardly knew her, but she seemed different, 180 degrees from what the rest of the female student body seemed to be—shallow, self-involved and superficial.
I didn't know why I was endowing so much thought into the subject, I didn't think it was too healthy. Maybe I was travelling on dangerous territory again. I couldn't afford to find people interesting, surely if people learnt my history, they'd exile me from their lives. I'd lose them, but not quite in the same way I was used to. I sighed wistfully at the thought of having a friend. Friend—what did the word mean anymore? What was a friend? Can anyone really define it?
I certainly couldn't, not for certain. I combed through my brain. A friend was a friend—someone who asks you about your day, someone who knows how to treat you when your upset, someone who just gets you, I supposed. I doubted anyone would get me. I felt like I was drowning in my own pit of self-loathe and angst.
Teenage angst—I shuddered. But then again, I couldn't really be put in the same category as those people at school.
They had yet to experience the loss I had, to know what it was like to have the ground ripped out from under you.
I pondered friendship some more. Was it possible I could have a friend? I didn't know...maybe.
Maybe this Bella would be willing to at least talk to me, I mean what harm could come from talking.
We didn't even have to be friends exactly, just someone to ease my suffering with small talk—nothing full of too much depth, and that was alright.
I fell asleep after not too long, dreaming but not remembering them in the morning, for which I was grateful.
In the morning, Carlisle greeted me with an impossibly bright smile, showing teeth and all.
I grimaced, nodding in his direction and giving a short yet methodically polite, "Thanks. Have a good day at work." As I reached for the plate of food he had made me for breakfast. Well, crap. I felt like the biggest schmuck. I ate, got ready for school and headed out to my car, not glancing at anything around me.
Like I had always known but never put into practice until now—ignorance was bliss.
Letting the Volvo purr into life, I wound down the driveway and onto the long highway to Forks High.
Again, *take moment to sigh* I am begging for reviews. My need for approval trumps my self-respect. Shall I rub your feet?