CHAPTER 2
Preview: SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF THIS BOOK, I'M NOT ISABELLA SWAN! So your best friend is such a Twihard that she's convinced she was sucked into the book itself. But what would you do if the same thing happened to you? This regular girl wishes she had paid a little more attention "reading" Twilight when she finds herself stuck inside it as her less-than-favorite protagonist, Bella Swan! But it's alright, Bella doesn't get eaten in the first book. ……right?!
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Disclaimer: In case you can't figure it out on your own, I don't own Twilight. PS: the sky is blue. Yes, I wish I owned Edward Cullen. Or, more specifically, his delicious 2007 Aston Martin Vanquish S………… wipes drool off keyboard
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Death to the Non-Believer
Chapter 2
"Y eso es todo hoy. Estudia bien, chicos!" The bell rang and the class filed slowly out the door to a cacophony of mumbled "sí"s and "hasta luego"s. I packed my bag slowly, apparently alone in my desire to put lunch off for as long as possible. I wondered if they had pad thai in Forks. Doubtful. I sighed. "Why couldn't I have been sucked into Chopsticks or something?" I mumbled. When I turned to put my backpack on my desk, Jessica was at my shoulder again. She was a large part of the reason I was not looking forward to lunch, pad thai notwithstanding. She had spent the entire class sending me notes about so-and-so's hair, or such-and-such scandal, or did-you-hear?s. She now hovered on my right, folded arms held as if for dear life across her chest, rocking slightly back and forth on her heels. Her eyes tightened just a twinge at the edges, the only chink in her near-perfect goody-two-shoes façade that gave away her obvious frustration at my slowness.
I was pretty sure I was starting to hate her. Unfairly perhaps, I conceded as I started re-ordering the papers that had been passed out to us, taking as long as I could. I heard an insistent tap-tap-tap, and looked down to see Jessica's foot rudely urging me to hurry. I accidentally-on-purpose dropped my bag off the edge of the desk and - much to my surprise - onto the offending foot, and had to fight not to smile at the indignant yelp I got for my efforts. I put on my best oops-my-bad face and smiled apologetically up at her - I really had meant to just drop the bag next to her, not on her- and said "sorry, accident-prone, remember?" I shrugged my hands at her helplessly, half expecting her to inspect them. I bent to pick up the spilled books and saw her glare at me through my periph, but when I looked back up she immediately switched back to her too-sweet best-friends-forever smile. I smiled in return. Either she already hated me on my first day at the new school for reasons I couldn't fathom - Bella's first day, I corrected myself - or she was just a bitch. I looked up into her drippingly sweet smile and felt my own wilt around the edges. I was betting on the latter. But that was still no reason for me to start dropping things on her. I was just anxious. Apparently being trapped in a fictional story you didn't even like will do that to your nerves - or so I was learning - especially if things in that story were eventually going to try to eat you. I was understandably unhinged. And if I remembered correctly, we were only in the middle of the first chapter; after all, I still hadn't even met-
I snorted. Jessica, momentarily forgotten, cocked her head at me and frowned a little. I must look insane, staring into space and snorting randomly. I zipped up my bag and pushed in my chair, watching the kaleidoscope of her features as they predictably turned from disdainful impatience to quivering excitement. Without a word she did a little hop-turn in place that made her hair bounce and proceeded almost skippingly out of the classroom. I rolled my eyes at her back and followed her in a more stately manner towards the Forks High School caf. She assaulted me with chatter the entire way. She was a gossipy little thing, divulging the most horrendous rumors and darkest secrets of people that I didn't know, and who I'm sure had no interest in my knowing the skeletons in their closets. I had a growing urge to tell the girl to just mind her own damn business.
If I tried, I could be friends with Jessica. I found it easy to be friends with almost anyone. Even though I could tell she secretly despised me, she was full of good jokes, and she had - to some small extent - taken me under her wing. I could find the good in her, I was sure. But right now, at this moment, with nowhere to escape from her frantic prattle as we tromped across the snowy the lawn, I wanted very badly for the earth to open up and swallow her, just for the sake of silence (or possible my sanity). My pace quickened, and soon we were at the swinging double doors of what must have been the cafeteria, and Jessica finally fell silent as she perused the lunch options. I had never been so relieved to smell turkey surprise.
I was wondering what else might shut her up when I noticed a blonde boy bounding cheerfully towards us. Jessica apparently noticed too, because she stiffened and then froze like a deer in headlights, carving her painted nails deeper into her binder with every approaching step. I was wondering whether she was going to swallow her tongue or break a nail first, when the boy was suddenly beside us.
"Hi, Mike!" she peeped sheepishly. I looked her full in the face, and I could see through her consuming blush that this smile was real. Interesting, I thought, cataloguing this response in my mental notes. Mike, in turn, was staring at me.
"Hey Jess, Bella." His blue eyes danced and his smile stretched from ear to ear, waiting expectantly.
"Hi, Mike." I echoed. His smile brightened a touch, and I couldn't help but smile in response. He was that type. This must be Fig- er, Mike Newton. He was cuter than I'd imagined him, but in the kind of way that made you want to pet your dog, nothing that would make me carve sections out of my binder in anticipation. He turned away from me, answering something Jessica asked him about another someone I didn't know. Yet. Though I seriously doubted you could not know anyone for very long in this tiny sneeze of a town. I grew up in a small town outside Los Angeles, and went to a high school with only three hundred students in my grade. Compared to the several thousand of most neighboring schools, I had thought mine tiny. Forks made my alma mater look like a behemoth. There couldn't have been more than five hundred people in the entirety of Forks High, let alone per grade. No wonder I kept running into the same faces every class- there probably weren't even enough students to have more than one class per subject. Jessica's overdone laughter brought me back to reality, and I realized someone behind me was politely coughing. I looked up to see Jessica and Mike. I was standing ten feet behind them. I shook my head, wondering what the Forkians would think of this new girl, the total space-case.
"Sorry" I said to the girl behind me, scuffling quickly forward. She was tall, and pretty, with dark hair and an easy smile.
"It's not a big deal, really. We're not even close to the register yet anyway," she said in a soft voice. She smiled again, walking forward into the space I left behind me. She was graceful for someone so leggy. And she was nice.
This one must be Angela. Had we - had she and Bella - met yet in the book? Would it be strange of me to know her name? I couldn't remember, so I played it safe and kept quiet, rather than introduce myself twice or know her name before we'd met. I didn't need any more help looking crazy today.
But luckily, a few minutes later, she followed me and my garlic pasta to the table where I sat with Jessica, a gawking grease-ball that could only have been Eric Yorkie, and a few others who I was eager to identify - it was becoming a kind of silly game of guess-who for me. Mike Newton – wisely – chose a spot a few tables away, much to Jessica's chagrin. Angela sat across from me, a few seats down, and smiled again. We were going to be friends, I could tell. That is, if I was here that long…
I was spared from this train of thought by a sudden explosion of giddy laughter, and I brought my gaze out of my pasta and up. I stared. A sandy-haired girl walking amidst the tables paused with her friend, laughing so hard she seemed to be struggling to maintain a grasp on her tray. I wondered what joke she'd told. Of course, she didn't hold my attention for long. She continued walking and my gaze remained caught on the table behind her, and its unique occupants.
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