THIS LOVE
MOM DROVE US DOWN to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was listening to Johnny's mixtape in my walkman — his last mixtape. I tried not to think about that too much.
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that mom escaped with me and my twin sister when we were only a few months old. It was in this town that we'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was was the year Bella put her foot down; these past three summers, our dad, Charlie, vacationed with us in California for two weeks instead.
It was to Forks that we now exiled ourselves — an action that Bella took with great horror. I didn't mind Forks. I loved the rain. I loved the quiet. I loved the woods. I loved sweater weather.
But I'd miss the sun. I'd miss my friends, I'd miss the parties. I'd miss soccer and concerts, and battle of the bands. I'd miss arguing with my lovable, erratic, suffocating mother. But more than anything I'd miss my boyfriend...if that was what Johnny even was anymore.
I knew that was half the reason Bella had brought up moving to Forks. Ever since mom found out about him, we'd been arguing worse than ever before. The guilt nagged at me every time I found Bella listening in on the staircase, too scared of confrontation to mediate but too torn apart by the shit that flew from my mouth. Bella had always been the well-adjusted one. She was a good kid.
Forks would be good for me, I thought. It'd be good for us both.
"Girls." Mom said to us — the last of a thousand times — before we got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."
Bella looks more like mom than I do. They have the same red-brown hair, except mom wears hers short and it curls as wild as her personality. Her laugh lines split her face, her baby blue eyes wide and childlike. I only got the eyes.
I didn't worry about mom. She had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, someone to call when she got lost, and for the first time in my life I didn't have to keep up with it all. The liberation hadn't really sunk in yet.
"We want to go." I held more conviction in my voice than Bella ever could.
"Tell Charlie I said hi."
"We will." Bella nodded.
"I'll see you soon." She insisted. "You can come home whenever you want — I'll come right back as soon as you need me."
I rolled my eyes with a soft snort. "We're going to Forks, not Iraq."
Bella didn't look so convinced. "Don't worry about us. It'll be great. I love you, mom."
Their embrace was long, and tight, a final farewell. Mom gave me a look when it was my turn. "You look after your sister."
"Always." I mumble, hugging her just as hard. I was willing the frog in my throat down. "Love you."
It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying had never bothered me, I usually slept like a log on planes and I think Bella was grateful for it. She'd never been the greatest conversationalist. I wasn't looking forward to the hour in the car with Charlie that would follow.
He'd really been fairly nice about the whole thing. Charlie seemed genuinely pleased that we were coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten us registered for high school and he was going to help us get a car.
But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Bella got her lack of social skills from him, and I didn't look forward to being their buffer. I knew he was more than a little confused to hear that it had been Bella's decision to move to Forks and not mine — like mom before her, she hadn't made a secret of her distaste for Forks. When we landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I thought it was a nice welcome sign from the universe, smiling at the moody grey weather. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun. Charlie was waiting for us with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. Bella and I's primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of our funds, was that we refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slowed down traffic like a cop.
I watched Charlie give Bella an awkward, one-armed hug up ahead of me as she stumbled her way off the plane first.
"It's good to see you, Bells." He said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied her. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?"
"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." Bella offered, stepping aside as I stretched my arms out wide for Charlie. He smiled back, clearly uncomfortable, stepping into my skinny arms.
"Gracie." He mumbled into my hair before I pat his shoulder and let him go. He really was the exact same as Bella, they were terrible with affection. "Good to see you again, kid."
"You too, Dad." I smiled tiredly at him. If you looked past my hair, I looked like my Dad. I had his lanky build, his alabaster skin. The same thin nose. We smiled the same, the same pretty beam that had made Mom run away to Las Vegas with him once upon a time. But no one ever saw Charlie when they looked at me, not with the hair.
We only had a few bags between us. Most of our Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. Mom and Bella had pooled their resources to supplement her winter wardrobe while I'd gone ham on the hoodie bin at the Salvation Army. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.
"I found a good car for you girls, really cheap." He announced when we were strapped in.
"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said "good car for you" as opposed to just "good car."
"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."
It had always been an obscure fantasy of mine to drive a nice pickup truck. I blamed country music videos, rare as I saw them on MTV. "Where did you find it?"
"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.
"No." Bella admits too quickly.
"Rachel and Rebecca's dad." I supply for Bella. "We used to go fishing with them during the summer."
"He's in a wheelchair now." Charlie continued, clearly pleased that I remembered. "So he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."
"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask. Between Bella and I, I had always been the more mechanically inclined twin.
"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years old, really."
I squinted. "When did he buy it?"
"He bought it in 1984, I think."
"Did he buy it new?"
"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest." He admitted sheepishly.
"Ch — Dad, I don't know if I can keep fixing it if it breaks down, I mean, parts are expensive for stuff that old..."
"Really, Gracie, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."
The Thing, I thought to myself...it had possibilities — as a nickname, at the very least.
"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part we couldn't compromise on.
"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you girls. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at Bella with a hopeful expression, eyes glancing at the rearview mirror to meet mine.
Wow. Free.
"You didn't need to do that, Dad. We were going to buy ourselves a car." Bella protested softly.
"I don't mind. I want you girls to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. Another thing he had passed down to Bella, who was looking straight ahead when she responded.
"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it."
"Thanks Dad." I tacked on, cheeks flushed.
"Well, now, you're welcome." He mumbled, just as embarrassed by our thanks. We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for Conversation. We stared out the windows in silence. It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.
It was too green — an alien planet.
Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with our mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had — the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was our new — well, new to us — truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. An old C-10... not the truck of my dreams, but I was surprised to find I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged — the kind you could see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed. It was kind of perfect for the walking disaster that was my baby sister.
"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Bella genuinely sounded delighted, and it made me grin. I could imagine us spending the next two years taking care of the beast together, having adventures to the city. We'd talk about this truck fondly when we're older, probably call it something like that old beast. I could see it.
"I'm glad you like it." Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again. I reached out to squeeze his shoulder with a meaningful look, not wanting to thank him again.
Another surprise waited for us as we walked into the house. "Oh, no Gracie, you're down there."
I was confused as he pointed to the door to the garage, just to the left of the narrow hallway the house first opened to, beyond the stairs that Bella and I were already on. Charlie looked uncomfortable again. "I uh...well, you're both big now, so...converted the garage into another bedroom a couple years ago. It's uh, it's a little colder, so I figured Gracie..."
"Yeah, yeah I'll take downstairs." I was fighting a big wide grin. "Thanks a lot, Dad. You didn't really have to."
But the relief flooded my system. I'd shared the big room upstairs with Bella every summer, but we'd never had to share longterm in Phoenix. Bella was kind of messy and I was kind of a neat-freak, not to mention our clashing routines. We wouldn't blend well as roommates. It would be so much nicer to have my own space, my own walls and my own door I could lock. Charlie smiled and nodded, and set the bags down on the floor by the stairs.
A few years ago. He must've done it as a surprise just before the summer we stopped coming to Forks. The guilt nagged at me as I twisted the door handle. There was a sliding lock on the outside of the door, still unchanged from when it had served as the one way into the garage through the house, but I doubted Charlie was going to lock me into my own room any time soon. The thought made my lips twitch as I nudged the door open with my knee, hefting up my duffel bag and suitcase.
It was bigger than I expected, which was nice. The garage had only had room for the cruiser before, so I didn't think I'd have so much space. It was spartan though, and smelled like paint. The floor was concrete and cold but Charlie had made up for it with two very old, mismatched area rugs. The bed was a single, which made the room look even bigger, pushed up against a window that definitely hadn't been there before. The sheets were cute and childish, rocket ships and planets splattered across white. An inside joke for all my Star Wars years. There were two shelving units on either side of the bed, one filled with Charlie's fishing equipment and tools and other garage paraphernalia, and the other empty save for a few books I'd left behind during my visits. I didn't think I would be reading Animorphs again any time soon, but the thought was nice. There was a desk pushed up against the wall where the garage door should've been, with a sturdy looking chair, and a full length mirror in the corner. The closet was right next to me, beside the door.
I loved it.
The walls were cream, and the curtains were white, so it added to the incomplete sense the room was giving, but I figured a few posters and paintings could change that. There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Bella and Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.
One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left us alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to cheer Bella up or force conversation out of Charlie. I'd never really had this much silence with Mom. After I was unpacked and showered, I just sat on my bed, watching the sheeting rain. The glass of the window was pleasantly cold, but I worried for how many layers I'd need to sleep beside it. Especially in the dead of Winter. It would've been so much nicer to sleep by the window in Phoenix, where most of my nights growing up had been stifling at best. I blew a hot breath against the glass, drawing a little smiley face with the tip of my middle finger. After a moment, a raindrop slipped from the fading eye, like it was crying. I smiled goofily at it, my own face greeting me in the reflection of the cloudy, cold glass.
Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven — now fifty-nine — students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together. Bella and I would be the new girls from the big city, a curiosity, the freaky twins. I worried I'd have it worse than her. At least Bella looked like she belonged in Forks, with her pale skin and her dark hair. Golden haired and towering, I had always belonged in the land of volleyball girls and bathing suits. I'd stick out like a sore thumb here, and I was scared over whether I'd be welcome. The girls here must already have their steadfast friendships, built over years and years and years. It was intimidating to have to infiltrate that. My happy mood faded at my new fears.
The phone rang at night after dinner, and Charlie called for my name, a strange expression on his face while I passed him. "Baby?"
My shoulders sagged, but I wasn't sure if I was relieved or just glad to hear a familiar voice. "Hi Johnny."
At least he sounded relieved. "Hey. How was the flight?"
"Good. Slept, mostly." I admit.
"Did you listen to it?"
I smile. "Whispered goodbye as she got on a plane, never to return again, but always in my heart."
He chuckled. "I miss you so much already."
"Yeah?" I brighten up, hearing Dad turn the volume up a little in the living room.
"The guys have been giving me so much shit for it." He admits, making me laugh. "I'm this close to driving up there, you know."
"You can't break up the band." I roll my eyes, patient with him. "Besides, I don't think Dad's gonna like you as much as Mom. He's a cop."
"The she-witch hates my guts." He snorts. "I still can't believe she didn't want me to come see you before you left. As if."
"Well, she forbid it, technically." I remind him with a scrunch of my nose, toying with the coiled cord, trying to keep my voice low for privacy. "Like that's stopped us before."
He chuckles again. "How am I gonna survive without you?"
"Just a couple months." I remind him. "Then I'll see you in California for Spring Break."
"Mmm." He's not placated. "You know, this is already the longest we've gone without—"
"Johnny." I cut him off in a hiss, feeling my ears burn. "My Dad's in the living room."
"Oh." he sounded disappointed. "So you don't have a phone in your room anymore?"
I roll my eyes. "No, we're not doing that anymore."
"Baby, you know I can't go that long." He complained.
"Then use a magazine or something." I'm upset. "Or find someone else."
"Gracie, you know I didn't mean it like—"
"I know." I pinch the bridge of my nose. "I'm just a little cranky, you know, tired. It's been a long day. Look, I'll call you tomorrow after school, okay? Are you gonna be at work?"
"Yeah, ring me up." He assures me. "I love you baby."
"Love you too." I'm not sure if I've ever meant it. "Bye Johnny."
"Sweet dreams beautiful." I could hear the smile in his voice. "Good luck at school tomorrow."
"Thanks. Bye."
I have to walk back past Dad to get to my room, and it's awkward, because I can see he's waiting for me. "That the uh, the boyfriend?"
"I don't have a boyfriend, Dad." It wasn't a lie.
"Sure sounds like a boyfriend." He mumbled, raising his eyes to me at last from the TV. "He a good kid?"
"Sometimes." I answer honestly and vaguely. "Good night Dad."
"Night kiddo."
Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the dread creeping up on me. I'd never driven in fog before, and I definitely didn't trust my sister to.
Breakfast with Bella and Charlie was a quiet event. He wished us good luck at school. I thanked him, because Bella didn't even have the energy to seem hopeful. I didn't blame her. Good luck tended to avoid her like the plague. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and waited for my sister to come back down from her room. I examined Charlie's small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed.
Mom had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized living room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and mom in Las Vegas, then one of the four of us in the hospital after Bella and I were born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of our school pictures up to last year's and all my soccer team pictures. Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here.
It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over mom. It made me uncomfortable...and worse, because it reminded me of Johnny. I didn't want to think about having the same type as my mother.
I also didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I dragged Bella from her room, where she seemed to be trying to delay the inevitable, donning my jacket over my hoodie and heading out into the rain.
It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up while Bella got the truck running. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I didn't like the idea of wet socks, but it seemed an inevitability here. I couldn't pause and admire the truck again like I wanted to; I was in a hurry to get out of the wet before it soaked through my hoodie and ruined my painstakingly blow-dried hair.
Inside the truck, it was nice and dry and toasty. Bella smiled at me from the passenger side, rubbing her hands together by the vents blasting hot air. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. My three favorite smells. The engine had roared to life when Bella had gotten in earlier, but now it was idling at top volume. I was concerned about the sound levels, figuring I'd check it out after we got home. A truck this old was bound to have a flaw, and I was just grateful it ran like Charlie promised. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected, twitching through stations before I found the local rock channel.
Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?
I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided we would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like idiots. I turned to Bella, offering a half-hearted smile. "Ready?"
She gave me a look, and I chuckled. Together, we stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. We hesitated, sharing a look. I took a deep breath before opening the door.
Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which made me glad I hadn't overdressed. The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"
"Hi, I'm Grace Swan, this is my sister Isabella." I flash a polite smile, usually the one to lead in these situations. I saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. We were expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. The Swan Twins. We'd been that before, but it meant something different here. The daughters of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last.
"Of course." she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedules right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show roe.
She went through our classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave us a slip to have each teacher sign, which we were to bring back at the end of the day. I was surprised to see we had the same homeroom together. Phoenix had always made a point of splitting twins, something about preventing codependency. Maybe that had worked a little too well. Other than AP Physics and AP Spanish, during which Bella would be studying Biology and AP History, we would be spending the entire day together. Those blocks were in the afternoon, so at least we'd have each other until lunch.
Mrs Cope smiled at us and hoped, like Charlie, that we would like it here in Forks. I did the smiling back, half-hopeful she'd be right.
When we went back out to the truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove us around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like ours, nothing flashy. At home we'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to us. Bella and I went over the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully neither of us would have to walk around with it stuck in front of our nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and braced myself while Bella sucked in a huge breath. I turn to her with a smile, holding up a fist that she rolls her eyes and bumps. "We've got this."
I wished I felt as sure as I sounded.
I kept my head low and my hood up as I led my sister to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My outfit had been a wise decision, a plain navy hoodie beneath a slightly too large black denim jacket I'd stolen from Johnny and low rise jeans. Most of the kids wore the same thing in different iterations.
Once we got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.
The classroom was small. The people in front of us stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. Bella and I shared a look, copying them. Johnny's jacket was perfect. I'd worried it'd soak through, but he'd been right, it was waterproof. At least enough that it didn't feel waterlogged. The girls in front of us looked like us, one a taller porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here. I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. Bella offered hers with mine, standing at my elbow, and he gawked openly at us. Not an encouraging response.
But at least he sent us to an empty row of desks at the back without introducing us to the class. It was harder for our new classmates to stare at us in the back, but somehow, they managed. Bella seemed grateful the attention passed swiftly from her to me, but I wasn't so glad. The last time we'd been through this was the summer after puberty hit. I glanced my twin's way, watching her eyes drift through the reading list our teacher had given us. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. We'd already read everything, Bella and I were big readers. I was kind of grateful I wouldn't have to put as much effort into my essays this year at least. I wondered if Mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.
When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.
"You're The Swan Twins, right? Isabella and Grace?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.
"Bella." She corrected, identifying which one she was reflexively. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at us.
"Where's your next class?" He asked.
Bella went to check in her bag, but I was already prepared, my smile polite. "Government, I think, with Jefferson in building six."
There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.
"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you guys the way..." Definitely over-helpful. He kept glancing my way, growing Bella's amusement. "I'm Eric." He added.
"Nice to meet you Eric, thanks." I smile a little brighter and he blinks.
We got our jackets and headed out in the rain, which had picked up. I was hyper-aware of the cluster of students behind us walking close enough to eavesdrop, a little surprised by the gall of people here. I guessed boundaries didn't really exist in small towns.
"So, this is a lot different from Phoenix, huh?" he asked.
"Very."
"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"
"Three or four times a year."
"Wow, what must that be like?" He wondered.
"Sunny." My lips twitched at my own humor.
"You guys don't look very tan."
"We're part albino."
He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm. His eyes darted up to my soft waves. "I guess you've got the hair at least."
Golden, like the sun. "You know, for twins, you don't really look alike. Did you dye your hair?"
"We're fraternal, and no." I always bristle when people assume I'm a bottle blonde, I was very protective over my hair. It was kind of my favorite feature. "I got my great-grandmother's hair, I think she had German in her. I look a lot like her, actually."
"She must've been very pretty." Eric tries, and I chuckle at the twinge of pride in his smile that he'd unintentionally been smooth. He was sweet.
We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked us right to the door, though it was clearly marked. Bella stayed silent for most of our conversation, lingering a step behind to exclude herself, but Eric always made the effort of addressing us both to keep her involved. It was nice of him.
"Well, good luck." he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful.
"Thanks Eric, me too." I smile at him before going inside.
The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. Our Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made us stand in front of the class and introduce ourselves. Bella stammered, blushed, and tripped over her own boots on her way to her seat. I made a joke of it to pull the attention away from her, introducing myself as if I were a romantic ad in a paper. "Well, my name's Grace, I too am seventeen. Let's see, I like mellow jazz, candlelit dinners and long walks along the beach..."
My humor was better received in this class, a flutter of giggles and snickers breaking over everyone, but I definitely hadn't earned points with Mr. Varner. He chased me off with a scowl.
After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask us questions about how we were liking Forks. It didn't take long for people to recognize I was the more social twin, and I noticed when they started approaching me first instead of Bella. She seemed relieved. At least we never needed the map.
I had gym when Bella had Spanish, so this was the first time we had to split up. There was a fellow blond named Lauren who'd introduced herself, and offered to walk with me. I waved at Bella, gratefully turning to Lauren who was already regaling me with a story of a trip to Arizona she'd taken when she was nine. It wasn't to Phoenix, but she seemed to gloss over that. I tried to steer the conversation to sport, noticing her letterman jacket. She was on the volleyball team, which made sense with her height and build. Sport was an easy topic to make friends over, a nice neutral ground.
It was there, in gym, chatting away to Lauren and her friends as we came out of the girls' locker room, that I first saw them.
They were sitting at the furthest end of the bleachers, right at the top. They weren't talking, not to each other or to anyone else. They weren't gawking at me either, unlike the rest of the crowded large space, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.
They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.
The girls were opposites. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Myself included. We looked alike, I supposed, in the way her hair was as golden as my own, in the way her features were as refined as my own. But I was a pale imitation of the goddess. My face was my best feature, but I didn't have the curves to match, too lean, too stick-thin. I kept my hair short, to my shoulders, because it was easier to style and maintain and showed off my jawline more, but hers was enviably long and luscious, like a shampoo advert. She was all I wished I was. I tore my gaze from her reluctantly, a little bitter for no good reason.
They looked nothing alike, and yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than Bella and I, the albinos. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.
But all this is not why I couldn't look away.
I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the bronze-haired boy, who looked so much like the perfect casting for a romance novel hero. Or the perfect blond girl, my impossibly better version.
They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. The rest of the students were gathered together on the gym floor, chatting excitedly and glancing none-too-subtly my way, over and over again. Coach Clapp, who was in charge, seemed distracted by a tiny girl who looked a little green, clutching at her stomach and leaning against her friend. No one else was staring at this ridiculous collection of teen masterpieces.
"Who are they?" I asked Lauren, cutting abruptly into a conversation about their Winter Break.
As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing, probably, from my tone — suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at Lauren for just a fraction of a second, and then at me. I didn't drop my gaze, and he looked away absently, as if he'd never actually seen me.
Lauren's friend giggled, the ginger one with the glorious abundance of freckles. "That's Edward, Alice and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. They all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.
I felt heat on the side of my face then, turning involuntarily to meet the stare only to wish I never had. One of the girls had turned towards us, the perfect blonde, as if she'd heard the girl to my left say her name. It was an impossibility from this distance. But her stare continued, keeping me trapped in that dark gaze, curious about the emotions I could see flitter across her face. Confusion, shock...and then anger. The dark, burning rage twisted her pretty features into a terrifying scowl, glaring at me heatedly, as if I'd done something to offend her. I couldn't comprehend the intensity of her anger, looking down quickly, wondering what that was about.
I could still feel her eyes on me, but I didn't dare look, glancing up at the boy sitting a row down from her instead. He was looking down now, fidgeting with his wrist watch. His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. I wondered what he'd said to anger the blonde.
Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here — small town names? I finally remembered that Lauren's friend was called Claire, a perfectly common name. I'd had a friend called Claire back home, and there was another Claire on the soccer team with me, often a sub.
"They're hot." I supply, realizing the girls were watching my reactions to the Cullens with amused expressions, waiting for my review.
"Yeah." Lauren snorted, as if that had been the understatement of the century. It really was. "They're all together, though — Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being fair, I had to admit that even in Phoenix this would cause gossip.
"They don't look related." I tack on, carefully. I'd remembered that Claire had said 'lived with' Dr. Cullen, and not Dr. Cullen's children. So then dating in-family couldn't be as bad as it sounded.
"Oh, they're not. Doctor Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins — the blondes — and they're foster children."
"They look a little old for foster children."
"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."
"That's really kind of nice — for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they're so young and everything."
"I guess so." Claire admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though." She added, as if that lessened their kindness.
"Blood doesn't make a family." I shrug casually, but it makes my stance clear. Claire flushes. "She must be a good mom to be able to handle a unit that big and not have any trouble, so many teenagers in one house, you know."
"I guess." Lauren sounded disinterested now. I hadn't reacted how they'd hoped.
"I'd probably give her a run for her money." I joke, lightening the mood quite effectively. "Have they always lived in Forks?"
"No." Lauren said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to new arrivals like us. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."
I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that my sister and I weren't the only newcomers here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.
"Which one is the blonde?" I try not to be obvious as I glance their way again. She had stopped glaring at me, but she was glaring at her sister instead. What's her problem?
"That's Rosalie. She's the one with Emmett, the big guy next to her. They're Seniors. The tiny one's Alice, she's with Rosalie's twin, the curly blonde. And that's Edward Cullen." Lauren explains.
"The bachelor." I joke.
"I wouldn't waste my time. Apparently, none of the girls in Forks are good enough for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd turned her down. Then, to my surprise, she glanced my way, her nose upward. "Well, maybe that's changed now."
"Oh, I already have a boyfriend." I feel like I've used a get-out-of-jail-free card, because suddenly Lauren and her friends light up, no longer snipey. She launches in at once.
"Oooh, what's his name? How long? Is he still back in Phoenix? How're you guys gonna deal?" The rapid-fire threw me off. It took me a beat to recover, blinking, not noticing I'd taken a step back in my panic.
"His name's Johnny, he graduated a couple years ago, we met at work — I used to have a part-time job at the same autoshop he worked at, I kept the books." I explain to the glee of the girls. "It'll be six months next Thursday. He's a little older, you know, so mom didn't like him much for me... I think that's one of the only reasons she's glad we moved to Forks, she thinks we'll break up because of the distance."
"Oh but that's so romantic, like Romeo and Juliet." Claire swooned. "Is he gonna come here?"
I shook my head with a smile. "I don't think Dad would like him much either."
"So he's a bad boy." Lauren decides, and I grin. "That's so hot. How bad are we talking?"
We talk about Johnny the rest of gym, playing volleyball. It was easy to bond over the girls about boys. Lauren had a sort-of-boyfriend in Tyler Crowley, a handsome boy who played at the other end of the gym near the Cullens. She and Tyler had broken up before the summer, but everyone knew he was off-limits, Lauren was going to get him back again when she felt like he'd repented enough for screwing up something to do with an anniversary and a football game. I forced myself not to look in his direction. I didn't want to make eye contact with the Cullens again.
Lauren brought me with her to lunch, where I was surprised to find Bella already sat down, struggling to keep up with a conversation about some B-rate movie the group of seven had seen over the weekend. I'd hardly sat down before I was accosted by a tiny brunette with wildly curly hair that almost made up for our remarkable height difference. Jessica Stanley, apparently, hadn't expected me to look this different from my twin sister - even though I was pretty sure she'd sat behind us in Trigonometry this morning. She was a babbler, but I liked her. I could see us being friends.
It was while we were talking that my sister went through the same introduction I had to the Cullens.
I tuned out, not daring to look Rosalie Hale's way again. Instead I picked the onions off my pizza slice, wondering why anyone would ruin a perfectly good slice of margherita with soggy onions. No more than a minute later though, I felt the heat of glaring on my neck again. I whipped my head up and raised my eyebrow this time, but Rosalie Hale was storming out the side door in perfect, catwalk strides.
Much to my disappointment, none of my new friends took my next class, but Jess offered to walk with me to AP Physics II on her way to Government.
Most of the classroom was filled with unfamiliar faces. Seniors. I had expected that, but they hadn't expected me, and that much was clear on their faces. I flushed, scanning the room for an empty seat, only for my face to fall.
There was only one, next to the center aisle, right next to Rosalie Hale.
She hadn't noticed me yet. I braced myself.
As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching her surreptitiously. Just as I passed, she suddenly went rigid in her seat. Her eyes flicked up from the textbook she'd been reading, staring at me again with that same strange expression on her face as gym — it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I tried not to let my flustered state show.
I'd noticed that her eyes were black — coal black.
Mr. Molina signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by her, bewildered by the antagonistic stares she'd been giving me.
I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw her posture change from the corner of my eye. She was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of her chair and averting her face like she smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hoodie. It smelled like my perfume, sea salt and neroli. I'd sprayed extra this morning to make a good first impression, half scared it would fade in the rain, and I'd sprayed again after my shower post-gym. It seemed a pleasant odor. I untucked my hair from behind my right ear, but it didn't really make a difference, the way it curled away from my face. I kept my gaze forward, fixed on our teacher. Unfortunately the lecture was on thermodynamics, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down, getting ahead of myself when he droned on a little too much.
I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally from the corner of my eye at the strangely wrathful goddess next to me. During the whole class, she never relaxed her stiff position on the edge of her chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see her hand on her left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under her pale skin. This, too, she never relaxed. She had the long sleeves of her white cable-knit sweater pushed up to her elbows, and her forearm was surprisingly hard and toned beneath her light skin. I didn't think I'd ever seen definition like that on someone who looked like her. My mind drifted to our former goalkeeper, Michelle Grumley, a beast of a girl who looked like a serious bodybuilder. She could've snapped me like a twig, but leggy supermodelesque Rosalie Hale looked like she could too.
The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for her tight fist to loosen? It never did; she continued to sit so still it looked like she wasn't breathing. What was wrong with her? Was this her normal behavior? I questioned my judgement on Lauren's unseemly bitterness at gym today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.
It couldn't have anything to do with me. She didn't know me from Eve. I peeked up at her one more time, and regretted it. She was glaring down at me again, her black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from her, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.
At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Rosalie Hale was out of her seat. Fluidly she rose — she was much taller than I'd thought — her back to me, ramrod straight, and she was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.
I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after her. What a bitch. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me. I'd never really been very good with my temper.
"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked. I looked up to see a tall, handsome boy, his dark hair gelled into a messy faux-hawk, his long body clearly packed with tight muscle beneath his two t-shirts. The top one was black and featured a dark Iron Maiden print, the red one beneath peeking out from where he wore his white-belted dark jeans low. A punk boy, but a cute one. He was smiling at me in a friendly way...obviously, he didn't think I smelled bad.
"Grace." I correct him, with a smile. "Bella's my sister."
"I'm Adam."
"Hi Adam."
"Do you need help finding your next class?"
"I'm headed to Spanish, actually. I think I saw it on the way here."
"That's my next class, too. AP Spanish, right?" He's amused. "So she's got brains to match the body."
"Shut up." I blush, and he grins.
He was cuter than Johnny. It was a terrible thing to think, but Adam was really hot and he knew it, and I wasn't expecting guys like him or the Cullens in Forks. We walked to class together; he was chatty, but in a snarky kind of way, as if fawning over the new girls was beneath him. He teased me, mostly, and I wasn't naive enough not to recognize this type of flirting. It was my favorite kind. I was always a sucker for people who tried to get under my skin, and he was very much my type.
But as we entered class, he asked. "So, did you stab Rosalie Hale with a pencil or what? I've never seen her that bitchy before." I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Rosalie Hale's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.
"Was that the girl I sat next to in Physics?" I asked artlessly, trying not to panic. No sooner had the words left my mouth than I'd noticed her boyfriend sat in the second row, tensing as I walked in, eyes dark and dangerous. Oh he'd definitely overheard.
"Yes." Adam didn't care. "She looked like she was in pain or something."
"I don't know." I responded. "I never spoke to her."
He shrugged. "Probably just pissed there's a new hot blonde at Forks."
I roll my eyes with a snort. It couldn't have been that basic. "It's true, you know. You should've heard the girls at lunch. We kind of have a high population of brainless skanks, you should watch out for their claws."
"They have nothing to worry about, I've got a boyfriend." I inform him, though it's pointed. I honestly wasn't sure if I was telling him or reminding myself.
"Is that right?" He smirks, tugging my backpack easily off my shoulder and taking it with him while I shoot him a scowl, cheeks pink, turning to Mrs. Goff to hand her my slip. She speaks entirely in Spanish, which wasn't so surprising, but she seems pleased enough in my conversation skills as she sends me off to join Adam in the back. He's busied himself going through my backpack, which only made me more furious.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I hiss, trying to keep my voice low. We were sat directly behind angry Emmett Cullen, and a curiously empty seat next to him. Was his girlfriend in this class too? Did I piss her off so much she was ditching? He wasn't burning with pure hatred like his girlfriend, but the dislike was clear in the way the muscles bulged threateningly where they piled atop each other on his boulder-like back. He made Arnold Schwarzenegger look like Pee Wee Herman. It was kind of terrifying.
"Just getting to know Grace Swan. Does she smoke? Does she do drugs? Does she have a fake ID? Aha, a lighter. Not so squeaky clean as she looks." Adam held up my zippo triumphantly, distracting me. I flush beet red, snatching it away from him before Mrs. Goff can see.
"It's for candles." I tell him, stuffing it back into the front pocket of my backpack.
"Do you bring candles with you to school?" He catches me with absolute delight on his face, and I glower. "You're really hot when you're mad, you know."
"Bite me."
"I really, really want to." He flirts with glimmering dark eyes. "But you've got a boyfriend, see, and that's a problem. For you."
I huff in exasperation, getting my books out with a thump onto the table, wondering what fresh hell I'd gotten myself into. But I would be lying if I said I wasn't into it. Too into it. I needed to stop. I needed to think of poor Johnny, back home moping over me. Johnny, who couldn't handle going a day without me giving him something to wank over. Johnny, who whined when I hung out with my friends back home in Phoenix, because I wasn't giving him enough attention. Suddenly Johnny Scarsdale wasn't the dreamboat I thought I'd bagged, and I was only too aware that the 'suddenly' had a name. And that name was Adam.
By the time the final bell rang, I'd enjoyed the distraction Adam Wexler presented perhaps a little too much. He walked me to the office to return my paperwork, the two of us arguing over music. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I hugged Johnny's jacket tighter around me while we walked side by side, and whether Adam noticed or not, his taller body blocked most of the cold blast from me.
"Adam Wexler." Mrs Cope, the receptionist, regarded him with a look I knew all too well.
"Hey Mrs C." His smile was friendly though — cute, even. He leaned heavily over the counter, biceps bulging beneath his layered t-shirts. He hadn't worn a jacket, I'd noticed that, it hung low around his hips instead, dragging his loose pants down to show the elastic of his briefs. "How's your Thursday been?"
"It's Monday, dear."
"Right." He was undeterred.
"How did your first day go, sweetheart?" She shifted her gaze to me kindly.
"Fine." I offer my best smile, even if it wasn't all true. I handed her my signed slip.
"I hope he's not been giving you trouble." She gave me a look I could only register as a warning.
"Oh I'm pretty sure he is the trouble." I joke, and she chuckles while Adam beams brighter, very pleased with himself. "Don't you have some friends to go annoy?"
"You'd miss me too much." He claims proudly as we turn to leave the office. He holds the door open for me, which makes me flush, and I try not to flinch when I see who's outside.
Rosalie Hale looked like she was waiting for me, or at least waiting for me to be done. Her face was absurdly beautiful, but her hate-filled eyes were piercing. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising goosebumps over my entire body. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. And then her little brother, in a seemingly foul mood himself, drags her past us into the office. I had taken a sharp step into Adam to make way, his hands catching me — I hadn't even realized I was moving until they were gone. "Wow. You mess with all the Cullens or what?"
"It's weird, right? I'm not crazy?" I find myself a little breathless, and Adam frowns down at me, his hands still locked above my elbows.
"Hey, it's okay." He looks worried. "Come on. Let's get you out of the wind."
He kept me company, in the truck while I fiddled with the radio to distract myself, the hot air blasting our faces. Bella didn't show up until a good fifteen minutes had passed, by which point I was reluctantly quite fond of Mister Trouble. He gave her a lazy salute and a grin, hopping out and holding the door open for her, closing it after she got in. He mouthed 'see you tomorrow', and I chuckled, nodding and waving before pulling us out of the parking lot. I didn't notice Bella's mood until she rubbed the back of her sleeve against her nose. I knew what that meant. "Hey, you good?"
"Yeah." She was lying.
I twitch a little, heat rising inside me. "It was Cullen, wasn't it?"
"You too?" She's a little surprised.
"I don't get what they're mad about, we haven't met them before, have we?" I ask, and she frowns, shaking her head. "Well. Someone must've told them something, then. Something bad."
"Do I smell?" My sister asks me, unshed tears in her eyes. She was mad, too — this wasn't sad Bella. There was a difference between that and angry Bella, but both involved waterworks.
"No." I assure her quickly. "That's why I think it's a bad rumor. Do you remember that time Stacy Quinn thought I made out with her brother?"
"You did make out with her brother."
"That was after she broke my CD player." I remind her. "It wasn't true, Danica kissed Trevor. But Stacy hated me for a whole semester without ever once saying a word to me."
"I don't think this is the same, Gracie." I glanced my sister's way and I could see the emotions racing in her big doe eyes.
I didn't think so either... but it was a little more comforting to lie to myself than to believe those murderous eyes had anything to do with me.