I think I'm going to start going for shorter chapters simply because it would take too long for me to write semi-long ones, what with everything I have to do with school.

Don't forget to review!

Chapter Two:

As Harmless As a Butterfly

I was sitting cross-legged in the middle of my bed when Charlie came in that morning. The clock next to the bed said that it was about seven in the morning, six hours since my moment of bliss with the cigarette. Charlie's face twisted into one of shock as he took in my alert figure on the bed.

"Hey, kiddo," he said, stopping in the doorway and not daring to come any closer, seeming to pick up on the hostility emanating from me.

I was somewhat happy for once—and immensely territorial about my space. No one ever came into my room unless they wanted to have me kick their ass. "I was just coming in to wake you up. You don't have to go to school until tomorrow, but I wanted to get you a cell phone in case of an emergency. Do you want to come?"

I knew this fucking scheme well—it was where the parental figure tried to get you out of the house before you set fire to it, too. Charlie had nothing to worry about, though. It was Renee that I was fucking pissed at, not him. But I guess he was still concerned that I might take my anger out on his home.

I sighed, slightly annoyed, and shoved my sarcastic remark to the back of my mind. If I was nice, then maybe Charlie wouldn't watch me like a hawk. "Sure," I said at last, forcing a smile that I hoped wasn't too transparent. "Just let me get dressed."

Charlie looked relieved as he shut the bedroom door. As soon as I was sure he was downstairs and out of earshot, I gritted my teeth and turned to the wall, my fist flying through the air before I even realized it. I smiled, panting heavily as a good portion of my fury was unleashed onto the poor wall by my fist. As childish as it was, I felt better after punching the wall. I leaned in to inspect the damage I had inflicted on the plaster.

Good, not too noticeable of a dent. Charlie wouldn't notice unless he entered the room, which he wouldn't. And if he did…well, too bad for him. It's not my house.

I sighed again, feeling as if a huge weight was lifted off of my chest and stood, examining my red knuckles for any damage. I was happy that the walls in this house were simply plaster instead of the brick that comprised the walls of my room in Italy. I still had minor scrapes from punching the walls there, along with small scars that were barely noticeable on my pale skin.

It took no time at all for me to pull on a pair of jeans and a white thermal with a black shirt that was on top of the pile of clothes in my drawer. I yanked at my hair with a brush in an attempt to tame it and then brushed my teeth, not really hungry.

I knew that if Renee hadn't already told Charlie to force feed me, she would very soon and I wasn't looking forward to that. I didn't like eating, it was gross, and the gnawing pain that the hunger caused felt so wonderful. I was skinny, but I didn't have a problem. Renee liked to overreact to everything.

I glanced at the mirror in the bathroom that Charlie and I would have to share, making sure I looked somewhat presentable. My long brown hair was a little messy, but tamed as much as it ever would be. I was pale, far paler than any person who lived within an hour from the beach should be. It was the French in me, I guess. I had dark circles from too many sleepless nights that seemed to be tattooed onto my skin and my large brown eyes were as large and brown as ever. I bit my lip, dissatisfied with the girl in the mirror.

I turned away, but not before seeing the shirt I had thrown on. The black t-shirt was the one I had bought in Spain last year, the caption "Besa mi culo" written in beautiful, swirling cursive. I was suddenly glad that Charlie couldn't speak Spanish, even if it did annoy the fucking hell out of me that I had to speak fucking English all the time around him. The words "Kiss my ass" might have pushed him over the edge.

The drive to the phone store in the center of Forks was an uneventful one. There was nothing except trees and green and houses for the most part, very boring. No children were outside, partly because it was a school day, partly because it was a cold winter day. A light drizzle collected on the windshield and windows of the cruiser, distorting the gray and green of the outside foliage with little dots.

I leaned back in the passenger's seat, placing my converse clad feet on the dashboard. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Charlie send me a disapproving look, but he said nothing.

I slouched down in the seat, desperately wishing I could smoke the cigarette I had put in my pocket with my lighter before leaving the house, but I couldn't do anything until I was out of Charlie's sight. I had a tight feeling in my chest, one I knew could only be relieved by punching something or smoking. And, as I knew that punching something, or someone, was not really an option right now, smoking was what was left.

Honestly, it wasn't the nicotine that made me feel better—it was the simple act of breathing in and out at a calm, slow pace. Maybe also because I associated smoking with Aro, and Aro was the closest thing I had to a friend.

When we got to the small shopping center, I took a look around, taking in the foreign look of the small shops and brand new grocery store. The cell phone store was new, too, and looked equally as boring as the rest of this fucking dreadful town. I left Charlie inside the phone store after randomly picking out one of the phones, walking outside and leaning against the wall.

The parking lot of the shopping center was empty except for Charlie's and the employee's cars, making me smirk. I was happy that I could smoke without too much worry about being caught.

I pulled out the cigarette out of my pocket, letting it dangle between my lips as I dug out the lighter. Another click, and a flame was hovering over the metal of the lighter. Once the cigarette was lit, I let the flame go out and stuck the lighter back in my pocket. I glanced up at the grey sky. It didn't look like it was going to start pouring anytime soon, but you could never be certain in Forks.

I took a long drag from the cigarette, pulling it from my mouth and letting the smoke out in one long column that was quickly distorted by the softly blowing wind. I glanced around, looking for something of interest to look at, but knowing I wouldn't find anything.

A flicker of motion caught my eye, but I couldn't be sure if it was just the wind. I narrowed my eyes in the direction of the large tree across the parking lot, watching it carefully for any sign of movement.

There! Again, there it was, something was moving in one of the higher branches of the tree, swinging back and forth upside down. Now that I saw him, I didn't know how I could have missed seeing him hanging from his knees in the tree. He had strange red-brown hair and was just as pale as everyone else in this town. I wasn't sure, but I thought he could be tall if he had both feet on the ground. He was wearing a long sleeved black shirt and jeans, with black converse on his feet. So the people here weren't totally fashion deprived.

Nature Boy continued to swing back and forth on the branch, his shocking red hair—which I could see even from my position across the lot—standing up from his head and arms hanging limply in the air, making him look quite comical. I just watched him with mild amusement while puffing on my cigarette as he continued to hang there. I was too far away to tell if his eyes were closed, but I was almost positive they were.

It was then that Charlie decided to come outside to check on me.

I hadn't realized Charlie was coming in time to stamp out my cigarette, and he yanked it from my fingers, throwing it on the ground and stomping on it with his heavy boot as he yelled at me, demanding to know if I had more and if I did, where they were. It wasn't really a lie when I told him I didn't have another cigarette, because honestly I didn't. They were all at home under the bed in an old shoebox I had found with the other stuff I wasn't supposed to have.

Charlie quickly herded me to the cruiser, his hand gripping my upper arm in typical police fashion. I was just lucky he didn't seat me in the back, instead allowing me to sit in the passenger's seat again. I leaned back, putting my feet up on the dashboard again and ignoring Charlie's angry glare.

It was awkward sitting there with him after he had caught me, with the only thing that was a barrier between us being the white plastic bag that held my new cell phone. As we passed the tree with Nature Boy, I looked up to where he was hanging.

Green eyes stared back.

XXX

The next morning I found myself staring in the mirror at the gaunt girl that was trapped within the silver. She was in only her white towel, her thin and boney frame partially hidden by the ratty fabric. Her hair was plastered to her skin, white and dark. She let the end of the towel she was holding fall, the cloth dropping heavily to the ground and revealing her body for the world to see.

Bones stuck out, skin stretched across the framing like canvas. She was thin, slender, if you asked someone on the street. But still, there was that thing there beneath the skin that was clawing at her ribs, wanting to get out. Scars covered her body, little silver lines that were sometimes noticeable, sometimes not. More recent ones were also comprised of circles, beautiful and round. Symmetrical.

I turned away from the mirror in disgust.

Dressing for the morning at hell was something I didn't really remember. All I knew was that one moment I was naked in my room, the next my hair was brushed and I was in jeans, a black thermal, and a white t-shirt over it that read "I Hope I Scare the Hell Out of You." I debated over whether I should wear it on the first day at Forks, for surely the kids would be traumatized. And Charlie might get mad that I had worn a shirt with swear words on it.

I couldn't bring myself to care.

I knew, at one point or another, the students of Forks High would be scared of me. News traveled fast in small towns, and although I was almost positive that Charlie would not have said anything about why I had come to live with him, eventually it would get around. Plus, maybe the t-shirt would discourage them from interacting with me.

I smiled to myself as I made my way down the stairs, hoping that they would leave me the fuck alone. No doubt they would make fun of me again, as it had been a few years since they had last seen me.

Charlie had left the house hours ago, a note on the kitchen table explaining that he had to leave early for the station this morning and would be home at around six o'clock. The mandatory warning was also in the note, though at the end as if it had been added hastily. It was the normal stuff: no smoking, no drinking, no drugs, and definitely no fires.

I wanted to roll my eyes. They were all over reacting, every single one of them. I set fire to one building, and it didn't even have anyone in it! Not that that piece of fucking information mattered to anyone. They all seemed to think that I was going to escalate or something. Fuck that.

I shoved my old converses onto my feet, not having rain boots, and grabbed the school bag that Charlie had packed with all the necessary supplies that were on the list the school had sent to us. It was a simple black bag that Aro and I had drawn all over with silver sharpie. He had even written 'Miembro del Volturi' across the front of it, letting everyone know not to fuck with me. I gazed upon the bold lettering fondly, remembering exactly when he had taken it upon himself to do that for me.

I closed the front door behind me and locked it with the key that Charlie had left for me on the table with the note. Following the directions that Charlie had given me to the high school, I pondered what the Americans there would think of me.

Certainly, they would be intrigued at first, having not seen me around for seven years now. They would try to talk to me, and would probably end up ridiculing me because of my imperfect English and no doubt because of the rumors of why I was here. Someone would have heard that I was sent to suffer here because I burned down something.

If only I was back in Italy. There, people didn't even look at me disrespectfully unless they wanted something unpleasant to happen to them later. Everyone in Volterra knew of us, the Volturi. We were young, powerful, and fearless. We got what we wanted, when we wanted it. No questions asked. Not even the adults would stand against us.

I sighed, knowing that things would be different here. They had no reason to fear me, because all my power and companions were left in Italy when I was forced out of the country by my mother. I would have to make them realize that it was in their best interests not to fuck with me.

By the time I reached the school, there was still fifteen minutes until class started, and cars were slowly filtering into the parking lot in front. I took in the sight before me, marveling how different it was from my school in Volterra.

Charlie had explained that schooling in the United States was not optional until after high school, which was when you were about eighteen or nineteen. It was such a strange concept to me, because in Italy after we turned fourteen or fifteen, our schooling was considered over and was no longer free. If we wanted to continue our education, we chose a scuola secondaria superior, a higher secondary school, that specialized in the subject we wanted to work in and we paid tuition. When we were about eighteen, we could then go into a career in the field of study that we chose or continue on to a university for more teaching.

I had decided to continue my education beyond what was required, as did Aro, Marcus, and a few others in the Volturi. Aro and I made the thirty minute trip via expensive car nearly every day to an istituto d'arte, or an art school, just outside of Volterra in order to study different art techniques, history, and famous historic and contemporary artists. Coming from that type of optional schooling to this barbaric American schooling was going to be disorienting for me, I could already tell just by looking at how the school was built.

In Italy, mine and Aro's school was one very large and old building with four floors and multiple classrooms on each floor. It was just off a small side street and the surrounding buildings were very close.

Forks High School was comprised of multiple small buildings, all one floor, which were connected by sidewalks and overhangs to protect the students as they traveled from building to building in the near constant rain. The grounds were spacious with greenery everywhere and several courtyards with tables, benches, and trees in between the buildings.

It was so strange, and I didn't feel entirely comfortable with the openness and how few students attended this school. I already knew from Charlie that class sizes here were about fifteen to twenty students per a room, due to the three-hundred and fifty-seven students currently attending. My school in Italy had about twenty-five to twenty-eight students in each class and over five-hundred students enrolled in classes.

I walked quickly to the building at the front of the school with 'Administration' in big, bold letters on the front above the double doors, trying not to draw attention to myself. It wouldn't be long before people started to notice that their number had now become three-hundred and fifty-eight, instead of fifty-seven.

A rather plump woman with fake red hair and an atrocious purple shirt sat at the front desk, typing away at an ancient computer. Her nametag read Ms. Cope, which I had no idea how to pronounce, and she looked up at me briefly before going back to her typing, not sparing me another glance.

Anger flared within me, unbidden. I was fucking Isabella Swan, people did not ignore me. I was here to retrieve a schedule of my classes and I was being ignored?

I cleared me throat, trying to get the attention of the ignorant secretary. She finally looked up at me and said in a bored voice, "What can I do for you?" She looked me up and down, taking in my shirt and scuffed up leather jacket. The distaste was clear on her face, and it annoyed me.

"I am here for my class list," I responded, not bothering to hide my annoyance and ran a hand through my hair in disinterest. "My name is Isabella Swan."

It took her a moment to understand what I had said, as even I knew my English was poor and she probably didn't catch my name, as it was pronounced so differently in Spain and Italy than it was in America. However, her dull eyes lit up and she shuffled through the papers on her desk, looking for the right ones.

"Yes," she said, pushing a pair of black-rimmed glasses up her nose. "We have been expecting you." She said a few more words that I didn't catch before finding what she was looking for and handing it to me. I had to suppress a smile as I saw something akin to fear and apprehension in her eyes. So she did know why I was here.

The first paper was bright yellow and contained a school map, though I was sure I would not need it. I had noticed before while walking up to the school that all the buildings had clear numbers on the outside and each classroom had the teachers name and subject on a plaque next to the door. It was so strange, going back to a school with so many subjects being taught in it. I hadn't experienced that since I was fourteen.

The second paper, the red-haired woman explained, was a sheet for all my teachers to sign. It was pink, and I instantly took a dislike to it simply because it meant that I would be unable to leave this god-awful place until I was allowed to. I would have to bring back the pink paper after school with all the signatures on it, the secretary with the hard to pronounce name said.

The last she let me look at by myself, going back to her computer and very important typing. I stared down at the green half-sheet, furious that someone had screwed up my schedule and now I had to correct it. This was beyond ridiculous.

"Excuse me," I said, reining in my temper as best I could and trying to be polite to the secretary. Aro always said that people are more inclined to do something if you are polite and persuasive. Only after should you let them know you have no problem with violence. "There has been a mistake."

The woman looked up, blue eyes incredibly lifeless as she stared up at me, her voice annoyed. "How so?"

So now my education was a bother to her? I took a deep breath, not needing a suspension the first day. Charlie would be upset, Renee furious, and it would take me longer to go back to Italy. "I have already taken these classes."

The secretary looked at my schedule, before going back to her work. "There is no mistake. Those are all the standard classes that a junior should be taking."

I bit my tongue to stop the profanities that threatened to leak out at her idiocy. "But, I have already taken them. I am studying art. I only see one art class on here, and it is a class of medium level. I do not need mathematics or sciences."

The woman ignored me, continuing to type as she told me, "Those are your classes—I cannot change them."

I brought my fist down on the counter and she jumped from the loud thump it made against the wood. I leaned in real close so there was no way she could not understand what I was saying. "I took and passed these classes. I took the required exams and passed. I now study art. What part of that is so hard to understand?" I growled at her, my eyes narrowing dangerously. This woman was clearly incompetent. I would not take a class that I had already passed.

She squeaked and recoiled from my furious stare, her voice very high-pitched. "I-I'm s-sorry. I c-c-can't do any-anything a-about th-em." I spun away from her and her pathetic trembling voice, striding out of the office and into the rain, the papers she had given me clenched in my fist. I was over this. Clearly the Americans who ran this school were imbeciles, and I would get nowhere with them. I would have to take another semester at my Italian school when I got back in order to catch up, and that put me in a foul mood.

Most of the kids had arrived by now, loitering under the overhangs of the tables and open hallways. I went over to the large covered area that held some of the lockers used at the school. The map indicated that my locker would be in this section, and I stomped over to it, giving glares to anyone who dared to catch my eye.

I stopped at #137, entering the code on my schedule and opened the door, the metal door slamming against the neighboring locker as I did so. It rebounded, vibrating as I shoved the books and supplies that I wouldn't need until after lunch into the cursed thing. I could hear people whispering behind me, either not caring or not knowing that I could hear them.

"Did you see her? She just stomped in here like she owns the place."

"I heard that she was expelled from her last school for pulling a knife."

"No, you just made that up. Remember what my mom said? She burned her school down."

"You're kidding," another girl continued to gossip. "Isn't her dad, like, Chief Swan or something?"

"And that's not even the worse part. Apparently she's part of a gang or something."

I could feel their gazes on my then, and I rolled my eyes, dropping my bag to the ground as I straightened my books. I wouldn't call the Volturi a gang. More like, an authority. You listened to what the Volturi demanded if you wanted to be in their good graces. We did good things, too. Volterra was probably one of the safest cities in Italy. We kept a strict order of things. No murderers or rapists walked the street, and if someone was stupid enough to rob a store or do something else in our city, we dealt with them. Immediately. There never were any repeat offenders after we paid them a visit.

"Yeah, don't you see that, Lauren? The Volturi? That has to be the name, because that is not a Spanish word."

"Isn't she, like, Italian or something?"

I slammed the locker shut, grabbing my bag and swinging it onto my shoulder. The cluster of girls that had been gossiping about me became silent, watching me warily. I ignored them, sticking my hands into my jacket pockets and feeling my lighter with my figures. Maybe I could sneak out during break or something and have a quick smoke. That would help me calm down a little.

As soon as I had passed them, they started talking again.

"Did you see that shirt? Who taught her fashion sense?"

"Totally. I thought Italians had a good sense of fashion. I mean, they're in Europe, right?"

"And those shoes."

I glanced down at my shoes compulsively. They were converse, black with white polka dots on them with random Spanish phrases written on the white rubber edges of the shoes. On the toes, I had written what would be the Spanish equivalent to 'Wicked Awesome.' There was nothing wrong with my shoes.

I stalked off, smiling as I stomped my foot in a puddle, managing to splash the insolent girls with rain water. They screamed, fretting, as I continued on my path to my first class: Trigonometry.

XXX

I hate this fucking school.

In Trigonometry, the teacher, the bastard that he was, made me introduce myself to the class. I made my way to my seat afterward, all of them snickering at how I pronounced my name, though a few quick glares had cleared all that up. Mr. Varner had been relentless in his grilling of me, wanting to know everything I knew and hoping that I would screw up and embarrass myself.

Of course, that didn't happen, but it still annoyed the fuck out of me.

English wasn't much better, as although I had read a majority of the books on the list the teacher had given me, I had read the Italian versions. That would throw me for a loop, I knew, if we had a class discussion on the books. Also, the entire lesson that day had been focused on the more complex parts of English grammar. Though I had learned English in school before now, I had never had a knack for English, something that had vexed my teacher back in Italy. Spanish and even French had come more naturally to me than English, and as English was a required course until you went to your specialty school, you were stuck with it.

So, of course, for the duration of the class I tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

To make things worse, as I started to exit the English classroom to go to my next class, History, a boy who I very clearly remembered pushing me off the slide when I was six walked up to me. I didn't know what he wanted, though I had a good idea that he wanted to break my arm again. His blond hair was gelled into spikes and his rather babyish face hadn't changed much since the last time I had seen him.

Needless to say, after my encounter with the overzealous puppy dog, the news spread like fucking wildfire that I was a bitch and had a spectacular right hook.

People left me alone after that, for the most part.

I was completely pissed by the time I made it to my History class—American, of course, completely mind-numbing—only to realize that not only was I nearly ten minutes late, but I also had to sit in the only seat left—next to Puppy. He shot me an anxious look when I sat down at his lab table, and I smirked as I realized that a bruise was already blooming on his cheek.

I turned to face the front of the class after giving him my infamous Death Glare. Mr. Jefferson, the teacher of this miserable class, was still sending me disapproving looks every now and then, having not accepted my "I'm new" excuse. Ass.

I was doodling in my notebook, pretending to listen to Mr. Jefferson's lecture when I felt something start to slowly creep up my leg, starting at my knee and drifting up from there. Immediately, I had Puppy's figures gripped tightly in my free hand, continuing to doodle as I removed them from my thigh and dug my fingernails into the thin layer on the back of his hand, watching out of the corner of my eye as Puppy squirmed and tried not to let out pitiful sounds of pain.

After I let go of his hand, he pulled up above the table and cradled it to his chest. I felt a smile tug at my lips as I noticed that my nails had left deep gouges in his skin, none bleeding, but I still knew it had to hurt like a bitch.

After class, I cornered Puppy—whose name I had found out was Mike Newton—in the hall before he could escape me. I knew we looked a comical sight—big, tall Puppy, cowering away from a little brunette girl with wide, innocent eyes. If only they knew what I had seen and been through, then they wouldn't think I was so innocent.

I shoved Puppy into the brick wall of one of the classrooms, chuckling to myself as he let out a high-pitched squeal. I thought he would be a bit more of a man. How disappointing.

I leaned up to his ear, running my nose along his jaw line as he trembled, terrified of what I was going to do to him. "Silly Puppy," I whispered affectionately in a voice that one would usually reserve for babies. "I'm not going to hurt you. This time," I told him, bringing my lips to his ear. "I'm sure that you have heard the rumors about me by now. Some very scary things, right?"

I heard him gulp and he nodded his head.

"So that makes me wonder why you would pull a trick like that with me. No matter. I will let you off with a warning this time. But touch me again," I said, reaching down and grabbing his crotch, "and you just might find that something you value very much—" I dug my fingers into his jewels, squeezing tightly as he whimpered loudly "—will be missing." I yanked my hand up, still gripping him tightly, to make a point and then let go, snarling as he collapsed.

"Now get out of my sight." I watched him scurry off, rolling my eyes as he limped away to his next class. Pathetic. The late bell rang then, cluing me in on the fact that I was now late for yet another class. At least today I had the excuse of being new—I wouldn't be able to use that one anymore by the end of this week.

I was just exiting the locker room after gym class—useless, really—when it happened.

I would have made it to the lunch room unscathed except that due to my clumsiness and apparent lack of luck, my foot caught on someone's boot and I came crashing down, my books scattering everywhere and my backpack spinning across the concrete and coming to a stop in a puddle. I winced as the pain in my palms registered in my brain and as I tried to push myself up, I was pushed back down by a set of hands.

I growled as I made contact with the ground again, noticing that whoever the fuck it was that pushed me down had also added another scuff to the sleeve of my black leather jacket. This time I managed to push myself up into a standing position without meeting my lovely friend, the ground, again.

I came face to face with the same group of girls from earlier today that were gossiping about me, the leader a tall blonde that had a very snooty demeanor. I narrowed my eyes at her and her cohorts who had tripped me. I clenched my fists at my sides, telling myself repeatedly that I did not need to be suspended the first day. I wanted to leave the United States before the summer.

The blond glared down at me. "Like, watch where you're going," she said in an unpleasant nasally voice, hands on her hips.

I nearly choked. She did not just say that to me. "Excuse me?" I asked, scoffing. "I think that it was you who tripped and pushed me. I think it's you who need to watch what you're doing."

Most of the girls in the group behind her gasped stupidly, as if it was this girl who was to be followed. They had another thing coming.

The blonde just laughed at me, giving me a nice view of her bleached white teeth as she did so. If she wasn't careful, she might lose a few of those pearly whites in the next few minutes.

"Who do you think you are? Some hot little Italian bitch who can walk over us? You see, I rule this school. I can make your life hell. So, like, watch what you say to me."

I raised an eyebrow at her, incredulous. She thought that she could intimidate me? I was Bella fucking Swan, I was a Volturi, I was not someone to fuck with. And she wanted me to give into her rules and let her crush my spine? No. Fucking. Way.

"Listen, Barbie," I hissed, trying to look as intimidating as possible in all the short stature. Aro had always told me that I looked as harmless as a butterfly until I was pissed. "I don't give a fuck who you think you are. You can't hurt me. Do you honestly think you could even look at me without your little posse with you? I don't think you want to know what I'd do to you if you had spoken to me like that in Italia. You see, you would know better than to do that. So, unless you want this 'hot little Italian bitch' to rearrange your face for you, you best move your scrawny ass out of my way and go about your life without ever bothering me again. So, fuck off."

I whirled away from her as she gazed at me open mouthed, shocked that I had just put her in her place. I was halfway down the hall, having collected my soaked bag and textbooks, when she finally spoke. It was a waste of air, to be honest. "Watch yourself, Swan," Barbie called, and I didn't bother to look at her. "You're on my turf now."

I snorted, rolling my eyes. Wrong, bitch. I may be new, but you're on mine.

I caught a boy with black oily hair and acne staring at me as I passed, most likely having seen the entire encounter with Barbie and her evil-as-fuck cohorts. "What are you gaping at?" I snarled, glaring. He paled and scurried off, tripping over his own feet in his haste. I felt a faint smile tug at the corners of my lips. Finally, some balance has been restored.

I skipped lunch, instead opting to sneak in a smoke behind the school. I was still pissed as fuck, and I knew from experience that the bittersweet smoke of a cigarette would be what I needed to survive the rest of the day without being arrested for mass homicide.

I slid down the old brick wall of the school, resting my head against the cool stone once I was in a sitting position with my knees curled up to my chest. I just sat there for a moment, reveling in the momentary peace.

My fingers searched my jacket pocket and brought out the lone cigarette I had stashed there, tucking it behind my ear while I rooted through my other pocket for the lighter. I closed my fingers around the warm metal when I finally found it, pulling the cigarette from its resting place and placing it between my lips as I swiped my thumb across the lighter, hearing the click where a flame should have sprung up, but didn't. I narrowed my eyes, anger mounting. This was not happening.

I clenched the lighter in my fist, attempting to force the orange flame out of it, whether it liked it or not. It clicked at me several more times before I finally growled and chucked it away from me as hard as I could.

It scrapped across the ground, jumping up into the air as it struck the ground. I didn't bother to watch it any further, stuffing the cigarette into my pocket again and shutting my eyes. Could I get no reprieve from this stupid town?

My damn curiosity got the better of me, though, when I didn't hear the lighter hit the ground a second time.

My eyes opened of their own accord and I found a pair of ratty black converse practically toe to toe with my own equally dilapidated pair. Too close.

I screeched, jumping up in an instant and had my knife out before I had even righted myself completely, ready to face the attacker who had invaded my personal space. I pressed the blade against his—for it was definitely a boy, judging by the size of the shoe—side and looked up to see his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I accused, stumbling over the fractured words and quelling my blush before it came. It was just down-right embarrassing that I hadn't heard him approaching.

He stood in shock for a moment, evidently not expecting me to react so violently to his presence, and took a step back, only to be followed by me as I keep the knife pressed in between his ribs. He held up the silver lighter I had thrown. "I take it you had some trouble with this for you to chuck it across the sidewalk?"

I furrowed my brows as I tried to understand exactly what he was saying. Fucking Americans and their stupid language. "What's it to you, Nature Boy? Are you going to tell on me?" I pouted my lip at him, still not removing my blade from his side.

He cocked one eyebrow at me. "Nature Boy? Really? Is that all you could come up with?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, digging the knife a little into his side, just enough to remind him who was the boss here. He got the message.

"Okay, okay," he exclaimed, holding up his arms in the universal sign of surrender. "Easy there."

I raised my eyebrow back at him, backing off a little. "So? Why are you spying on me?"

Nature Boy laughed, running a hand through his strange bronze hair and chuckling slightly. I glared at him and let the light glint off the silver of my knife, reminding him of it. "I was just coming for a smoke, too, and happened to see you throw this beauty away." He proffered another lighter, black in color, smirking knowingly. "Would you like some help?"

I spun away from him while tucking the knife back into my jacket, muttering in Spanish about stupid, fucking, American Nature Boys who thought they could just fucking waltz in and save the damsel in distress.

"Now, now," I heard his blasted voice behind me, the grin evident in his voice, "I know enough Spanish to know that you aren't saying nice things about me. Speak in English," he demanded.

Arrogant little fucker. I answered hotly, in English so he would understand, "You aren't the fucking boss of me. And since when do posh little Nature Boys like you break the rules? Don't you have tennis or some shit like that to get back to?" I asked, trying to rile him up. It worked, sadly enough.

He must have had a bad morning, too, because he simply tucked his lighter away, green eyes dark, and turned, tossing my lighter at the wall as he did so. It clattered loudly on the concrete. "Fuck you."

Then he was gone, with me laughing cruelly at him until I realized that I had just lost my opportunity to smoke before I got back to Charlie's house.

XXX

Still majorly pissed off when I got home, I decided to take a shower, knowing that the relaxing pounding of warm water on my body as I sat on the tile floor would relieve some of the tension left over from the stressful first day.

The steam helped unclogged my senses and I leaned my head back. They were all the same, every last one of them. Nothing had changed since the last time I had come here, and I hated it.

The only new thing was Nature Boy with the red-bronze hair that I had seen in the tree and smoking on the wall at the side of the school. I didn't even know his name, but he had the capability of being somewhat not-annoying, if he decided to control his fucking temper.

That didn't matter though. He was here, and there would be no one but Aro and Marcus who would ever truly understand me, even if the parts I gave them were fragmented at best.

I turned off the shower when the water began to run cold and stood up, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel and proceeding to my room as quickly as possible without slipping, shivering from the cold air in the house as it made contact with my heated skin.

I threw on the first t-shirt and sweat pants that I came across in my drawer and looked at my reflection as I sat on the end of the bed and ran a brush through my long, tangled hair that was still black with the water that was clinging to it. I didn't particularly feel in the mood for taking care of myself, but I knew if I didn't brush my hair now, I would regret it later when I had to take a pair of scissors to a knot.

I was wearing the weird shirt Charlie had gotten for me last year in Florida. I hadn't understood it until Charlie explained to me the English euphemism. The t-shirt depicted a spoon with the words "Cereal Killer" around it. It wasn't until after Charlie told me that the English word for a person who kills multiple people over time sounds the same as the English word for breakfast flakes that I understood it. It was stupid and only slightly funny, but funny none the less.

XXX

Charlie came home to me swearing very colorfully that night. Somehow, I had managed to slip while making spaghetti, the uncooked noodles flying everywhere as I lay sprawled across the kitchen floor, my thick hair fanned out around me on the tile and sticks of spaghetti in it. I had a brief moment in which to think sarcastically, Great, I'll be picking noodles out of my hair for the next week, before the hot water toppled from the stove and spread out across the floor.

This was the scene that Charlie saw, and though he probably couldn't understand a word I was saying, he got the gist of it. My skin was red from the not-quite-boiling water and I was completely drenched with the tan noodles sticking out of my long hair in random places.

XXX

The next morning, I was murmuring softly into the phone while leaning against the metal gate bordering the parking lot. I was close enough to the school entrance that people skirted around me and averted their eyes as they passed. Not that I really cared much at this point.

"Isabella," the familiar voice drawled through the speaker, "Patience is a virtue that you do not appear to have."

"It's not my fucking fault that these people are so fucking stupid. I wish I had a lighter so I could light them on fire."

"And that, my dear, is why you are no longer in Italy."

"Ah," I groaned. "Fuck Renee."

"Yes, fuck her."

I laughed lightly into the phone, muffling it so that the Americans wouldn't hear it. There was a pregnant pause, before he spoke again. "I miss you."

"I know," I murmured.

"The Volturi are restless without you. No trouble has stirred in the city yet, but I fear that it's only a matter of time before someone acts out, thinking they are safe with one of the Volturi leaders gone."

"And you will take care of it when it does happen," I stated, knowing that he would. Aro and Marcus were quite capable of stamping down trouble-makers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shock of red hair, but refused to turn to look at Nature Boy. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that I knew he existed. As far as I was concerned, he was nothing.

"Of course, Bella, but that is not my concern at the moment. My concern is getting you back to Italy and by my side." I knew what he really meant, he wanted to fuck me. Truthfully, I didn't care either way, but Aro was Aro, and he was a boy. That's all they wanted, really, but it helped me in the long run. I liked Aro, and if he wanted to, he could destroy me.

"I know. I want to be away from these fucking morons. They're worse than I remember."

Aro chuckled and I ducked my head to hear his next words over the noise of the student body. "They always are. They are American, what did you expect? The small town ones are the worst. Don't worry; we will have you back soon enough."

With that, he hung up, the phone beeping once at me to indicate his departure from the conversation.

I sighed, straightening up and snapping the phone shut. I turned, ready to start heading to class, as it would start soon, when I spotted her.

She was tiny, smaller than me, even, with short, jet black hair that looked dyed. A familiar thick streak of brownish-red that might have been her natural color was in her bangs, and ghostly grey-green eyes stared at me.

Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, and I noticed that she was covered in all black with matching combat boots adding to the affect. Her clothing only served to make her skin appear even paler and her red lips where downturned.

"What do you want?" I snapped, not in the mood to be fucked with by this little pixie. Pixie glared and stepped a little closer to me, staring me down.

"Listen to me real, real hard, bitch. You may be new, but I don't care. You fuck with me or my brother again, you're dead. Got it?"

I seethed. This was unbelievable. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" I hissed, stepping closer to her so that we were practically nose to nose. I noticed that her pupils were ringed with dark grey while the outside of the iris was pale green. "I don't take orders from anyone, especially you, Pixie. I could take you down without even blinking."

Her eyes darkened and she sneered. "I'm Alice fucking Masen, and I will kick your ass if you so much as inconvenience me again."

With that parting line, she was gone, almost halfway to the school entrance by the time I started moving. Immediately, I knew that news would spread like wildfire that I had just pissed off Alice Masen and Nature Boy, as I realized exactly why that red-brown hair had seemed so familiar.

Well, fuck. Ali-Bitch and Nature Boy were related.

Way to go, Bella. She was actually serious when she said you were dead.