Starry Skies

Chapter 3.

I awoke to disconcerting gray light streaming through the windows lighting the room up in a rather gloomy manner. The alarm clock on my bedside table read 6:30 AM; the time I usually woke up. Well, it was nice to know moving halfway across the Earth hadn't messed up my sleeping patterns. Rubbing my eyes groggily, I sat up in my old rickety bed. The vintage patchwork quilt my grandmother had given me, was thrown over the lower half of my body. And the windows through which the wind had blown through so icily were shut as well. I didn't remember shutting the window, or grabbing the blanket either.

Mom, I thought guiltily. The corners of my mouth tugged down at the edges. The events of the night before came flooding back to me. It wasn't fair how I had yelled at my parents last night, but was so turbulent, I wasn't been thinking about the words spewing from my mouth.

I knew I had to apologize. As the memories of the past few days re-announced themselves, a rather disturbing thought came to mind. School, I groaned. Great. I had already screwed up once, and to make matters worse, there was a brand new school was waiting for me, laden with mishaps and accidents. My less graceful side always had a way of finding me when I needed it least. I'd probably knock over a can of paint in art or something stupid like that. The entire town would know in less than ten minutes, and I'd be labeled as a klutz in less than ten seconds. Hmm... I studied my pillow, inviting and fluffed, begging me to lay my head down on it again. Rest my eyes for just a little while longer... No. I authorized firmly. This was my problem, and it was up to me alone to fix it. School would still be there no matter how late I slept in.

With a defeated sigh, I threw off the quilt, and swung my legs around to sit on the edge of te bed. To my disgust, I found that I still had on yesterdays clothes. I stumbled to my feet, dragged myself to my closet, threw open the doors, and randomly grabbed a pair of jeans and a top off the hangers. I didn't really know, nor care, what I had unknowingly selected to wear, since my aunt bought all my clothes and she had been an upscale fashion designer for most of her life. Most of my clothes were designer, and 'hot off the runways' or whatever it was they said. If they covered you up and kept you warm, they're perfectly fine for display in my opinion.

Padding down the stairs and into the kitchen, I wondered where everyone was. Usually Chloe got up around the same time I did. She had always tried to mimic my habits; show everyone she was a big girl too. It wasn't unusual not seeing dad up at this hour; he was out the door six sharp to catch the bus to work every day. Mom on the other hand, was usually bustling around the kitchen around this time. It was strange not hearing the whistle of the kettle, almost always accompanied by clanging pots and pans.

I went back upstairs and cautiously swung open the door to her room. She looked up, taken by surprise from where she sat at the edge of her bed. Her hair was a mess; eyes red and swollen; face wet with tears.

"Oh Mom...I'm so sorry."

We talked for over half an hour. She insisted that everything was her fault, and she that she had had no right to yell at me the night before. Eventually, I managed to shush her, ratifying that she was forgiven, and that I was hungry. She wasted no more time after that, jumping up completely energized, and declaring that she was going to make me the most delicious breakfast ever.

After I had dispatched the last of my mothers famed (well it should be famed) blueberry chocolate chip strawberry pancakes, I shoved my chair back from the table and stood up. It was time for me to face the most terrifying, harrowing, ghastly, dreadful, formidable quests of all time for mission impossible to begin...Operation new girl. I could hear James Bond music playing in my head already. Summer-saulting conspicuously into the hallway for my backpack, I heard my mom chuckle quietly. Throwing more emphasis into my act, I dropped to the floor and slunk to where my backpack lay on its side. In one swift movement, I grabbed a strap, hoisted it over my shoulder, and slunk back to the crime scene to my mom which was trying desperately not to laugh. Being a spy was easy, but unfortunately, mustering up the courage to face a small-town high school was not.

.

After mom had dropped me off, I stood there taking in the small cluster of buildings which stood before me at the edge of the road. Oddly, the quaint rust colored walls were more menacing than any twenty foot tall glowering institution. It was like a jungle..trees scattered thickly around the campus. As if they needed more greenery here. I gulped, and tip-toed nervously into a building with a sign labeled Office hanging outside. A blast of air warmer than I'd hoped, hit me as I walked inside the bright, friendly looking room.

Inside there were potted plants hung from the ceiling adding even more to the jungle facade. The orange flecked commercial carpeting led to a long counter supporting many wire baskets overflowing with bright flyers. At the desk closest to the counter sat a kind looking red headed lady who looked up and smiled welcomingly as I entered.

"Um. I'm uh... I'm, Charlotte Swanson...?" I managed to squeak.

"Oh, Charlotte!" She fluttered. "Yes I have your schedule and locker combination right here." She shuffled through the precariously stacked piles of papers on her desk, until she evidently found the ones she had been looking for and handed them to me.

"You are to get this slip signed by your teachers and return it to me at the end of the day okay sweetie? Oh, and here's a map of the school.' She directed good-naturedly.

I nodded my head, took the papers from her out-stretched hand, and shambled out of the cozy office building to face my fears.

* * *

I could hear students whispering simultaneously whispering, and heads turning as I perambulated down the florescent lit hallway to home-room. My arrival here certainly caused an uprising didn't it?, I mused.

The shrill ringing of the first bell forced the students to pry their eyes from my strange unfamiliar face, and retreat to their classes. I sighed in relief as they scurried away. I didn't mind being paid attention to, but when so many people stared at me at once, it made me feel a bit self conscious.

When safely in the parameters of room 102, my confidence began to regain itself, and I strode more easily to the teachers desk.

"Hello, I'm Charlotte Swanson. You must be Mr. Douvant?" I remembered the name off my schedule smilingly.

"Ah, hello Charlotte. Pleased to meet you. Here are your books, take a seat anywhere you like." He joked. There was only one more empty table left.

I smiled, going along. This was promising. Maybe school here wouldn't be so nerve wracking as I had made it out to be. Taking a seat at the empty table, I let my imagination roam while waiting for the second bell to ring, initiating the start of class. I slid my sketchbook out of my backpack, and began idly sketching another wolf. It was Seth this time, his expression friendly and open, triumphant looking, like just after he and Edward had defeated Victoria. The chair next to me grated noisily against the tile floor, and I glanced up curious.

As I took in the six foot eleven length of the boy who sat beside me, the gears of my brain ceased to turn. He had copper skin, jet black eyes and matching colored shoulder-length hair. He wore solely board shorts and a tank top even though it was about forty degrees farenheight outside. Not only that, but he was muscled up every inch of his body. Like a serious weight lifter...I quoted Bella Swan to myself. He fit every single insanely descriptive detail of Twilight's Jacob Black. But it couldn't be him. Jacob was a story book character right?

"You're Jacob Black..." I thought aloud. One of the many careless mistakes I was to make in future.

He turned his head to look questioningly at me. "Yeah...That's me."

"The real Jacob Black?" My mouth ran.

"Yes...?" He replied, his expression seemed to wonder if there was anyone else with that name.

"Oh." I put simply. What kind of moron says 'Oh', right after someone claims to be a fictional character??

Momentarily afterwards the bell for class rang, embarrassed, I turned my attention to the front of the room. I seriously expected the entire class to jump up and yell 'you've been punked!", or something like that any second.

All through the period I resisted the urge to steal a glance at him, study his intricate features more closely, see if he could really be who I thought he was. Every time, I ordered myself to quit it, and focused more intensely on Mr. Douvant. It was a long period, but when class was finally dismissed, I rose from my seat victoriously.

I had three other classes with Jacob. English, Chemistry, and Biology. For the next three days I struggled mostly successfully not to gawk at him during the period. It only made it harder to keep my gaze fixedly off his face since in every single class we shared, since he was forced to sit next to me.

On the fourth day I sat alone, contemplating my reflection ripple in the pond in the small "nature area" the school used for science classes to observe plants. Reeds undulated ceaselessly in the gentle waves created by the calm wind blowing overhead. Minuscule tadpoles darted this was and that, capturing my attention. I was so into the moment, that a voice coming from behind me, made me jump a bit.

"You're Charlotte right?"

The voice was husky and a bit rough, yet gentle somehow.

I turned to see Jacob, standing at my back, gazing off into the gloomy sky above. His expression was lonely, and a bit doleful in a way. I sighed remembering my mothers face earlier that morning. Her expression nearly mimicked his exactly.

"Yeah. " I started lamely.

"Hey–" I rushed through the words anxious to get them out. "Hey, I'm sorry for being so abrupt that first day, it's just– You seemed familiar– or something." I lied about the last bit. He was more than familiar.

He chuckled. "You're Jacob Black." He mimicked my voice, a mocking smile on his face. "No, that's okay. I never really got to introduce myself. I'm Jacob Black, but I guess you already knew that."

I laughed. He had a wry sense of humor. "I'm Charlotte Swanson, pleased to officially meet you Mr. Black." I replied airily.

He smiled and shook my outstretched hand. "Please, call me Jacob." He insisted. "So, Charlotte, where are you from? Someplace similar to this most likely, since you're rather pale."

" No offense." He quickly backtracked.

I already knew there was no chance of me achieving the same tone of gorgeous russet skin he protruded, so it didn't bother me much when he commented on my color-less state.

" Chicago actually..." I felt a pang of helplessness recalling Chloe's angry face. Suddenly, I could feel tears trailing down my cheeks. I quickly wiped them away.

"Sorry." Muttered, embarrassed. "It's just that my sister's been having a hard time adjusting, and it seems no matter what I do, she doesn't gain an ounce of acceptance. It makes one feel rather helpless, you know?" I explained quietly.

He sat down beside me and peered contemplatively into the pond, a troubled edge to his expression

. "Yeah, I know... I might even know more than you." He uttered in a hushed tone, the hurt easy to read in his voice, though he tried to hide it.

That was when I knew. It had to be him. It was written plain as day on his face, he was thinking about Bella. It was the most insane, most un-realistic thought I had ever had (and that's saying something), but it only made sense. It was what my heart told me, and from what I'd heard, hearts were almost always right.

"Bella..." I mused under my breath.

Of course, he heard me. His eyes widened in surprise, then anger, and suddenly...depression. It was an expression I knew well. "Where...? Where did you hear that name??" He growled.

Oops. I gulped. I wasn't used to being put on the spot. Thank goodness I work better under pressure. I also seemed to get this overwhelming feeling of anguish when I saw his was torn up and broken like that. For some reason it was more than I could bear.

"Well, my Aunt is named Bella, and she's still in Chicago. I guess I miss her too." I lied smoothly.

His expression cleared up, but there was still a hint of sadness left in the depths of his eyes. He began to say something, and then cut himself off sharply. "You know I knew a gi–...Never mind."

"What?" I sought.

"Nothing." He stubbornly shook his head, face set in a fake calm mask. The one that Bella always hated to see him wear. I could see why; when you looked at him you could tell something was wrong as plain as anything. For some reason it made me want to make it right again, to get rid of that mask... I shook my head, trying to clear it, and started grabbing at straws, trying to lighten up the atmosphere.

"It's probably a "guy thing"." I mumbled.

He took the bait. "A guy thing?"

"Yeah" I counteracted. "I have a lot of cousins who are boys, and when ever us girls try to join in whatever they're doing, they just shoo us off saying it's a "guy thing", and leave us to fend for ourselves in their house! Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, their just playing video games!" I was set off, and ranting a bit about this "guy thing" problem.

"I think" I began importantly with much emphasis on the "I". "That girls are just as good at video games as boys are!"

"I beg to differ." A deep, teasing voice rebuked. I turned around and took in a tall, stocky boy towering over me in ripped jeans and a gray hoodie. Next to him, his friend who seemed to be of a more quiet nature, but still just as tall and muscled. I looked to Jacob.

"Quil." He sighed.

" And I'm Embry." Spoke the more timid werewolf, smiling minutely. I smiled back and said "Hi"..

I grinned, remembering the familiar names of the characters who played Jacobs best friends. Putting my hands on my hips, I stood up to face him, grinning. "Well Quil," I divulged airily. "You wanna bet on that?"

He was slightly taken aback but soon regained his composure. "Sure" He crossed his arms confidently. "How much you wanna bet?"

" 20 bucks and a weeks worth of lunches." I smirked.

He gasped "Five lunches??? You're on, miss..."

" Charlotte Swanson." I finished. "But you can call me Char."

We shook hands, and agreed on meeting at my place a week from that day. Jacob looked a bit frustrated, though I couldn't imagine why. Well at least I had three new friends, and for the first time since we had moved here, plans. My outlook was brightening already.