MIKE NEWTON, THE KING OF EMBARRASSMENT
I don't own anything. All copyrights go to Stephenie Meyer ©
Name: First Sight
Summary: Mike Newton sees Bella Swan for the first time, and ultimately falls in love with her. Someone unexpectedly visits him, and ultimately gives him a fear-attack.
Author's note: I'm still horrified at what I've written. I absolutely cannot believe the fact, that it was me who wrote all these things. So hence, I've edited out the cringe-worthy parts of this fanfic, and I sincerely hope that it is far better than before.
-8-8-
A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.
-Stendhal
-8-8-
Character Point of View: Mike Newton
Time: Two months later.
I was standing beside my car in the parking lot, with my popularity newly restored. Thank Jesus for that. Just then, I heard a loud roaring sound.
Shit! Was it a lion? I hate lions. They scare the hell out of me. My hand flew to my pocket, and I took out the new cell phone which my mom had gifted to me last month. I dialled the police department, and waited impatiently.
"Forks Police Department here," Chief Swan answered gruffly.
"Who –oh, it's you, Charlie. Tell me, how's the fishing business going on?" I asked in what I hoped was a cool manner.
"Look here, Mike," Charlie growled. "Did you just call me to interrogate me about the fishes, or to mock the police? I don't have any time for delinquents like you! And, don't ever call me Charlie, or I'll sic the police dogs on you. Got it, boy?"
"Yes," I said. "But, there's this important matter here. You see, I think there's a lion on the loose in the Forks parking lot."
"How dare you?" Charlie exploded. "I said I don't have any time for juvenile delinquents like you, Newton! Don't call the police like this again, or I'll report you to your mother. And meanwhile, there are no lions in Forks High School! Think up a better excuse next time, you infantile runt!"
I opened my mouth to say something, but he ended the phone call. What a friendly dude.
Just then, I noticed that everyone in the parking lot was gawking at me, like I had four eyes.
"What?" I snapped at Lyndsey, a girl with a nose ring and two piercings in her left ear. She glared at me menacingly, and flipped the bird at me. She used both hands –a double flip. Unbelievable.
I turned away from her, and saw that the source of the roar was coming closer. Oh, and did I mention that it was a Chevy truck, which looked about a century old? Jesus Christ. Whoever owned this car must be dead-end ugly.
The car stopped, and a really, really pale chick got out, and shut the door. Forget what I said about the owner of the thousand-year old Chevy truck being ugly. This owner looked sexy...and lost. There's nothing far better than a lost, sexy chick for me. Just then, that son-of-a-gun, Eric-fucking-Yorkie ran up to her like the obsessed pup he is, and started the fawning. Christ. Is he a granny or what?
I growled furiously, but the noise came out sounding like a kitten's meow. Ouch. I swore loudly, and Lyndsey guffawed. She took out a camera and snapped my face before I could even move. And guess what? She took out a photo from her pocket, and showed it to me.
Jesus.
The picture from the incident, which my brain had classified as Operation Flash-in-the-Locker-Room, which I hope you're clever enough to decipher the meaning of. I wondered how the hell she managed to get this. Tyler Crowley probably smuggled it out, and sold hundred copies of the photo to every girl in this tiny school. Maybe even the whole town. I shoved it back at Lyndsey and she scampered off, laughing like hell.
I looked back at the pale chick, and remembered Mom gossiping about Chief Swan's kid from Arizona. I'd suspected that she was a tall chick with a deep tan and boobs too big for her. Guess I was wrong. This chick looked nothing like anything my imagination had conjured up of Charlie Swan's daughter. No, she looked about as pale as that fucked-up bunch of Cullens.
I saw what Eric was doing now, and almost had a spasm. Would you believe that Eric Yorkie, the geeky kid with way too much pimples on his face and who never ended with any cute girls his whole seventeen years, was now asking out my future-girlfriend?
The Fates have got to be kidding me.
Now, Eric and the pale chick were walking away together. No way was I gonna let that happen. I pulled up my sleeves, and stalked in their direction, when I remembered something important: her name.
Shit. I didn't even remember her name.
I stopped in my tracks, and fumbled around in my mind for any name ending with Swan. Well, there was Charlie Swan -whom I pissed off today, and Renee Swan, his ex-wife who took out of Forks like a bat out of hell, when Jessica and I were barely out of diapers. Apparently, she found Charlie too suffocating and Forks too...rainy. Can you believe the utter weirdness of that?
Wait. There was another name...oh, yes. I've got it.
Isabella Swan, wasn't it? God help me, if I've got her name wrong. Now, back to this Yorkie-Swan business.
I was going to kill Eric Yorkie.
-8-8-
I was walking quickly to Biology class, cursing Eric Yorkie every minute. When I entered the room, I saw Isabella sitting with none other than Edward Sullen –I mean, Edward Cullen. Sorry about the Freudian slip there, man.
Anyway, Isabella was looking totally uncomfortable, and Cullen was staring at her, like...well, I can't explain it. It scared the shit out of me, and I wondered how the hell Isabella managed to sit beside Cullen without screaming her lungs off. She must be totally brave.
I looked around the room for any empty seats. Disappointment followed soon, for the only empty seat was beside April Lucas, a girl with braces and hair which looked like she had stuck her finger in an electrical socket. Unbelievable luck today.
I slouched over to April, and plopped down beside her, mourning my lost luck and future girlfriend. April looked at me with a loathing look, which only amplified the I-just-put-my-finger-in-the-socket look.
"What?" I snapped at her.
"Oh nothing," she sneered. "It's just that you've got about three bits of food in your teeth."
My hands flew to my mouth, and I tested my teeth with my tongue. No bits of food wedged in between. Thank god. April must be lying.
"Is it true?"
"Huh?" I looked at April. "Sorry?"
"Is it true?" she persisted. "I heard you went skinny-dipping in the Richards' swimming pool yesterday, and got caught by Chief Swan."
What the fuck?
"What the fuck?" I bellowed. "Who told you that bullshit?"
"Language, Mr. Newton!" barked Mr. Banner. "This is a class room, not a swearing contest!"
Cullen and Isabella didn't even notice. Mega-wow. I mean, that's the first time no one's ever jumped from hearing my huge voice.
"Sorry!" I said, and sank into my seat, and turned back to April, who was now reduced to a ball of frizzy hair and giggles.
"Oh. My. God," April guffawed, and burst out laughing again.
"Finished?" I asked sullenly, after she subsided. She pouted.
"Yes."
"Who told you that crap?" I asked her sharply.
"Jessica Stanley!" she declared. "Who else? Mrs. Goff?" She giggled at her bad joke.
What? Jessica did not just do that.
"Anyway, Jessica was the one who saw you," April continued. When she saw my look of disbelief, she added, "She says so."
My eyes bulged at this.
"I most definitely, certainly, absolutely did not go skinny-dipping!" I howled furiously.
Everyone froze. Silence reigned everywhere, and I had to watch as Mr. Banner looked up from his notes, and went through the Dangerous Lights from the Dangerous Scale. In other words, Mr. Banner's face turned from pasty-white to bright neon-red to a shocking, thundercloud purple. Why the hell isn't this sequence of lights under the Dangerous category in the Guinness Records or something?
"Newton," said Mr. Banner menacingly, as he advanced down on me like a vulture. "What did you just say?"
"Um," I fumbled around. "I was saying..."
"Yes?"
"Well, I," I said, swallowing as I pointed at myself with my index finger. "You see, I here –I was going skinning-dipping. Skinning-dipping is my way of saying skinning the fishes, and dipping them in water...so I can clean them before dinner."
"Sorry?" Mr. Banner asked dumbly, his face momentarily confused.
"I mean, skinny- wait, I mean skinning-dipping is something of an abbreviation of skinning the fishes, and dipping them in water."
"Look here, Mr. Newton," snarled Mr. Banner. "I don't care what it's with you and your goddamned skinned fishes, but I will not condone any sort of talking in my class. And that goes for swearing like a goddamned sailor too, boy!"
"But you just swore now," I pointed out helpfully. Mr. Banner's nostrils flared dangerously. "I mean, you said 'goddamned' twice. They're swearing words, aren't they?"
"Maybe they are," hissed Mr. Banner. "Meanwhile, for homework, I suggest you write 'I will not swear or talk in class' hundred times. Understood?"
What?
"But," Rob Sawyer piped up, nervously. "We didn't swear or talk in class! I don't see why we should do that homework, sir."
"Not you, Sawyer! I meant Mike Newton!" barked Mr. Banner, a vein turning purple on his forehead. I feared it would pop right there.
"R-right, sir," said Rob sheepishly, sitting down slowly. "Sorry."
"Got it, Newton?" asked Mr. Banner.
I looked up. "Yessir!"
"What did you say?"
"Yes, sir," I repeated slowly.
"Huh –oh, right. Now, sit down and be quiet!" Mr. Banner commanded. I did so.
After the Devil –I mean, Mr. Banner- had swept away from me, I turned back to April. She was doing her work, and ignoring me. Good lord. I decided to ignore her back, and turned around to Isabella instead. Now, that was one hell of a perfect chick.
I kept a watchful eye on her the whole time. Cullen was leaning away from her like she had taken a shower in the smelliest sewer in the whole of America. I frowned. She had smelt perfectly fine to me, and I knew it since I'd passed her some time ago.
Meanwhile, Isabella didn't look comfortable either. I noticed that she had pulled a strand of hair to her nose, and taken a deep sniff, like she was checking for any smells. Weird. After her smell-check up, she let the strand go with a bewildered look.
I frowned again. I, Mike Newton, would never have treated her like that asshole Cullen.
Just then, the bell rang, and I got up eagerly just in time to see Cullen storming out of the room before Mr. Banner had even looked up. Even more strange. I noticed Isabella collecting her books with an unhappy air, punctuated with a few sniffs as well. So she was sad. This was my opportunity.
I ran a few fingers through my hair, and checked my teeth again for any bits of food. All fine. Prepping up my shirt, I swaggered to her side before she could even get up. I ran through various ideas to what to say to her.
Hey, Isabella Swan! I'm Mike Newton, kid of Karen and John Newton! You know me, right? I'm also a great friend of Charlie, your dad, and I'm sure that he's mentioned me to you before, right? Okay, so I'm offering you a chance to date myself. Which, by the way, is a totally high honor. Nah, too possessive and overly-enthusiastic.
Isabella. Walk with me to lunch, and sit beside me. Don't date anyone else, by the way. You know I hate it, girlfriend. No, too commanding. Girls totally hate commanding guys. They gravitate towards the hot, mysterious ones. And I'm one of them. Smirk. No, not the girls! I meant the hot, mysterious guys. Come on, dude.
Wow! Zindebat! Oh my gawd! You're Isabella Swan! You're like, a celebrity here! Waaaah-ow! We can go together! I almost cried there. It was too dorky, and sure as hell Eric-Yorkie style. I'm sure she's already suffered that disease. Poor girl.
By now, I was close to bawling my head off like a baby. Why did I always come up with these stupid ideas?
Great, now Isabella was getting up. Opportunity leaving alert! No fucking way was I gonna let it go.
"Uh..." my voice was barely audible to the classic beauty's delicate ears.
Speak, Mike! You're hot, smart, totally bad-ass, and sexy. You can do it, dude.
"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" I asked in my sexiest voice.
Isabella looked up from her books, with a surprised look.
You should be surprised, I thought. For I am Mike Newton.
I smiled in my friendliest manner, and she relaxed a bit. The Californian-boy smile. Always works. Trust me.
"Bella," she said sweetly, with a cute smile.
"I'm Mike," I almost sang.
"Hi, Mike."
"Do you need help finding your next class?" I was determined to gain her affections, even if it meant trudging in the opposite direction of my usual route.
"I'm headed to the gym actually," she replied in a monotone. "I think I can find it."
She didn't look very happy at the mention of the gym. So she was a dunce at sports, huh? I could teach her how to do it correctly. Mike Newton teaching Isabella Swan...this felt too much like one of those gooey chick-flick movies my mom often watched.
"That's my next class too," I said happily. When we walked together to the gym, I babbled on and on like a total ninny about my sad, sad, pathetic life.
"I lived in California 'til I was ten," I told. "My dad had to move to Forks when his parents –I mean, my grandparents- got sick. Then they died, and he had to take over the Newton's Outfitters business."
"Newton's Outfitters?" Bella asked me, puzzled.
"My grandpa's store," I said, disgruntled. That stupid store had ruined all my ambitions to return to Beverly Hills in California and start an entirely new life in the warm sun away from Wet Alaska –I mean, Forks. I'd suffered enough colds here to last one full year.
"Where did you live before you moved here?" I asked her, determined to wheedle out information. She was mysterious –one of the things I liked about her.
"I lived in Phoenix, Arizona," She replied. "I miss it there. It isn't all wet, and green like here."
I nodded understandably. I missed the heat too. "Yep. I agree with you there."
"Did you stay alone?" I asked.
"No," she said, laughing. "I lived with my mom and Phil."
Phil who? Her boyfriend? What the fuck?
"Phil?" I asked suspiciously, pouncing on the word. "Who's he? Your boyfriend?"
Isabella –I mean Bella- turned a bright crimson. Christ, she looked like a strawberry.
"No," she said quietly. "He's my mom's husband."
"Your step-dad?" I provided.
"Yeah."
"Oh –okay," I said. "Hey, what's your next class?"
Bella checked her schedule. "English. Why?"
"It's nothing," I lied. You know what the truth is? I'm obsessed with her.
Bella looked bewildered, but said nothing. By now, we had reached the gymnasium.
"So…did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what?" I inserted, casually. I wanted to find out what had happened. Pardon me for sounding like Jessica there.
Bella cringed. She composed herself, and asked in a curious manner: "Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?"
Oh. So that jerk Cullen hadn't even introduced himself. What an asshole.
"Yeah," I replied, looking at the linoleum floor nervously. What if she saw through my façade, and ditched me? Shit, that would kill me. "He looked like he was in pain or something."
"I don't know," she replied. "I never spoke to him."
Thank Christ. This was a first for me. I could get to win her after all. Thank Christ again.
"He's a weird guy," I stated, hoping to dissuade her from going after him, like every goddamned girl in this shitty, fucked up town had. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."
Shit. Did I say that? Please tell me I didn't.
She said nothing, but walked off into the girls' locker room.
Shit. I'd said something wrong, didn't I? Shit.
For a millisecond, I contemplated following her there.
What! What the fucking hell? Follow her into the girls' locker room? Was I going crazy or something? Face-palm! I took a number of deep breaths to calm myself down.
-8-8-
Once I had dressed in my craptastic gym uniform, I marched into the gym, right into Eric Yorkie. I gave him one of my famous death-glares, while the dumb idiot merely attempted to move forward, ultimately stepping on my new sneakers. His eyes were glued on something over my head. I gave him a hard shove, and he stumbled back, falling down on his ass.
"Huh?" he said, blinking blearily as he got up. "Newton, you crazy pig."
He did not just call me that.
I balled my hands into fists, and moved forward, when I heard someone gasp behind me. I turned around and saw the delicate form of Bella Swan standing. Her eyes were large, and her lips were open in a small 'o'. I could have fainted there.
"Uh," I said, smiling goofily. "I was just teaching Eric some volleyball lessons."
Bella blinked.
"Oh, good," she said, biting her lip. Jesus, I wouldn't be surprised if her lip began to bleed. How many times has she bitten her lip?
Eric had gotten up, and was now walking to the other side of the court. I had to restrain myself from chucking a volley ball at that greasy head of his, and then pretending to apologize for 'accidentally' hitting him, and then hit him again and again, till he passed out.
Meanwhile, instead of playing with the others, Bella was sitting on the sidelines holding a volley ball. So she was a dunce, huh? Just then, something banged me on the forehead, and all I could see was silver stars. Stars like the stars on the flag of America. I shook my head, dazed. I realized that Bella had accidentally thrown the ball at my head. She mouthed sorry to me but I was too dazed to respond, and in an attempt to hide my rapidly growing bump, I turned around and tripped over Eric's sneakered foot.
Ow.
-8-8-
I was sitting in my car, waiting for Bella. The parking lot was nearly empty. What if Bella didn't want to speak to me?
Just then, I spotted Bella exiting the building. I sat a bit straighter. Maybe she would run to my van…
I shook my head vigorously. No time for day-dreaming.
But no, Fate had to strangle me, for Bella ran past my van to that monster of a Chevy truck, and got in. She slammed the door shut. Even from a distance, one could see that she was trying not to cry and I wondered vaguely who had made her cry like that.
Did I mention that she didn't even look at me?
Bella's truck roared to life, and it rumbled past me, leaving me in the now-deserted parking lot.
What an awe-fucking-some day today is.
-8-8-
I parked the SUV in the driveway of my residence, and got out, still fuming over my lost opportunity with Isabella Swan. Since I was in a terrible mood, I didn't feel any happier when I saw Mom standing in the doorway.
What have I done this time?
"What did I do now?" I asked sullenly.
"Oh, Mikey!" whined Mom, looking hurt. "Why do you always say like that, honey? Come on in, there's a huge surprise for you!"
My heart turned to stone. Who was there? Unless…oh, shit.
Mom practically dragged me into the living room, where I saw Dad sitting at the sofa, eating his typical snack and watching the television covetously.
"What did you expect me to see now?" I snapped irritably.
Mom smacked me on the head. "Behave, Mike! She's been waiting for a long time to see you, sweetie, so be nice."
She?
It couldn't be.
"Tiffany!" screeched Mom. "Mike's here!"
And then, I heard the voice that was a major part of my worst nightmares: "Coming, Mom!"
Lord, please, no.
Tiffany Newton was my evil sister, recently turned twenty three years, and far worse than Lauren Mallory and Tyler Crowley combined. I was the happiest kid in Forks when she had to leave for the university in Seattle. Sadly, it was near Forks, and as a result she got to visit us more than three times a year. My personal Hell.
So when, two months ago, a dude called Robbie Reynolds proposed to her, she accepted. At first, Mom and Dad were like, "Oh no! Our baby Tiffie is all grown up! It was like yesterday, when she was in diapers!", and as days passed, it grew into, "Hurray! Tiffie's all grown up now, and we're looking forward to meeting our new grandkids."
On sunny days, I would occasionally wonder how she would treat her own kid.
I was jerked out of my reverie, when "Tiffie" came down the stairs, like some freaking Victoria's Secret model.
Who did she think she was –Gisele Bündchen? Great, now I sound like Dad.
Anyway, Tiffany had long, honey-blond hair, which would have made Lauren turn permanent green, and the trademark blue eyes of our family, along with the Californian-esque tanned skin. Lucky witch. She smirked lightly when she noticed me staring at her.
Robbie Reynolds was right behind her, and I shuddered when his ugly mug came into sight.
"Yo, Mick!" he greeted.
"It's Mike," I said frostily.
"Mike," said Robbie. "Sorry about that, man."
I shrugged in a non-committal way. Apology not accepted.
"Hey, Mike," chirped Tiffany, and she grabbed me in a hug stinking of calla lilies. Yack. "I missed you, so and so!"
Shit.
-8-8-