WARNING: THE HOMOPHOBIC F-WORD IS USED IN THIS CHAPTER, ONLY TWICE. BY YOURS TRULY, LAUREN MALLORY
Chapter Two| Forks High
I've always been an early bird, enjoying the sun rising and having my window open in my bedroom while I peer up at the cloudless Phoenix skyline. Sometimes I have a glass of orange juice in my hands, other times it's a fruit drink that I made from the blender Renee never uses in the kitchen. Most people are asleep and I can just sit there, not having to worry about anything around me. Sometimes I'm lucky and there's a crisp wind that travels through my window while other times it's just smoldering hot and I have to close the window not long after.
I wake up not long after Charlie heads off to the police station, his cruiser leaving the man-made gravel driveway. I partly want to just sit down on the window seat and look up at the dreary skyline and not really think that much about things, since it's my first official day here in Forks. Charlie wouldn't mind and tell me I could head off to school next week even, but I make myself be more motivated in getting up before pulling out some clothes to change into.
I barely pay attention to what I put on, knowing that even though it's my first day here, I couldn't care less what they think about me. It's a fuzzy pink and orange ombre sweater cardigan with a white light weight sweater underneath. A pair of somewhat stylish jeans and my worn out shoes I had gotten from the Salvation Army Thrift Store in Phoenix are next, along with a toboggan that is the same color as my sweater cardigan.
Downstairs there's a cereal box with a bowl and carton of milk on the kitchen counter. I fondly roll my eyes and make my breakfast before putting away the cereal box and carton of milk. I barely taste the food, knowing back in Phoenix I would grab the sugar bowl and put at least three clumps of sugar on top of my cereal. That ended up being nipped in the butt when I had more cavities in my mouth than we could ever think was possible.
And no, I wasn't a kid when this happened.
Finishing my breakfast, I put away the bowl into the dishwasher after drinking the milk and head upstairs to brush my teeth.
After brushing my hair too, I place the toboggan on my head and shuffle downstairs with my truck keys in one of my hands and my backpack slung on my left shoulder. I already know at the end of the day I'll be issued my stupid school textbooks and will have my syllabus given in order for Charlie to sign when he gets home from work.
Leaving the house behind me, I double check in order to make sure I have locked the front door, before heading over to where my truck is. I hop into the truck, thankful that Charlie had noticed me not caring for the bead seat curtain and had gotten rid of it. I know though that even if I like the truck it's still going to take some time for me to get used to it, but at least Charlie had taught me how to drive stick or else I would be completely clueless.
Forks High is located off the main highway.
There are multiple separate buildings that resemble more of houses than a school.
There are pathways for each building, connected, and there are aluminum overhead roofs for the pathways in order for the students and faculty to not get completely drenched when it's raining, which is practically every day. Bushes line each side of the pathways, trimmed down and made sure that they are all uniform. There is a bench or two that is on the pathway, on each pathway, in order for those who need to take a rest to sit down.
It doesn't take long for me to arrive at the high school or drive into the front office parking lot.
It's the first building anyone who comes onto the campus can see.
There is also the sign that is above the front door of the office building that has FORKS HIGH FRONT OFFICE written and placed for all to see. A beacon for students that are new, or for those who need tardy slips or to give their doctor excuse notes in order to have their day excused. It's nothing like the front office building back in Phoenix but they both serve the same purpose.
Hopping out of the truck, I stuff my hands into the pockets of my fuzzy cardigan and enter the front office. A blast of air conditioning hits me and I can't help but shiver some, deciding that I hate Forks even more due to the stupidity of the place. Only a dumbass would have the air conditioning on when the weather is like this outside.
The front office has folded padded chairs on either side of the white walls, there is orange flecked commercial carpet that seriously needs to be replaced, and potted plants are in every crevice possible to bring more nature into the room. If they were fake plants and I didn't have to worry about watering them then it'd be fine but real plants are just too much hassle. The room is split in half from the counter that resides in the room and a large, red haired woman wearing glasses sits behind the desk wearing the most common shade of purple for her shirt.
When she pops her head up from looking at the computer that is in front of her, she beams brightly when she sees me but a moment later there's disapproval.
I don't have to ask to know that look and what she's thinking.
The colors for my outfit and the more feminine energy from it lets me know she's someone who would rather have boys wear boy colors and stick to only masculine energy when it comes to the clothes. It doesn't make me feel bad, it just means that it looks bad on her end of things, being judgemental about clothes.
Wow.
I hope that she's proud of herself.
"I'm here to get my schedule and a map of the school…I'm Beau Swan? Chief Swan's son?"
I probe, breaking her from staring at me, she blushes and quickly apologizes as she begins to look through the piles of papers that are on her side of the counter. It's probably a lot more messy behind the counter than the clean wire baskets sitting on the top of the counter with doctor excuse notes and other sorts of school papers. There's enough to fill the blaskets a quarter way, not enough that it would be overflowing like it would be down in Phoenix.
"Here you go, dear. I highlighted the buildings you'll be going to, in case you get lost."
I send her a smile but it just makes her look uncomfortable, which reminds me that I probably need to work on my smiling. I've always been someone who finds smiling exhausting and there's not a lot in my life that I've smiled at voluntarily and meant it, other than when Charlie has stood up for me. Even the wedding pictures of Renee and Phil show me smiling with enough of a cringe that people wonder why they didn't just photoshop me out of the pictures.
Leaving the office, I barely hear her tell me I can keep my truck in the front office parking lot for today only, before the door shuts behind me in an audible click. Fixing my backpack on my shoulder, I take a deep breath and walk away from the building and my truck, my eyes caught on the students that are traveling throughout the campus towards their first block of the day.
Glancing down at my class schedule I feel better because of two things: I have my favorite subject first, English, and I don't have to deal with Math first. I'll deal with it after my first two classes of the day are done, English and Government. Though Government is not that fun either, unless I was wanting to be a politician then I don't see a reason why I should have to take the class.
Reaching Building 3, I note there is a porcelain colored blonde girl in front of me that is conversing with the girl next to her. The girl next to her is a dwarf compared to the blonde, and has light brown hair that makes up most of her height. The brunette is talking with her hands mostly, and I can understand that, since I do that most of the time without realizing it. Renee does it too, maybe I got that from her, it would explain a lot.
Mr. Mason is a balding, tall man.
He barely glances at me when I enter the classroom, though he does ask me whether I prefer to be called by my full name or by a nickname. It's obvious on my face that it was a stupid question to ask because no one in their right mind would want to go by Beaufort.
He signs the slip of paper I have to get signed by all my teachers by the end of the day, and hands me a textbook before ushering me towards one of the empty desks in the classroom.
At least I don't have to worry about assigned seating, which was basically mandatory back in Phoenix so that the teachers wouldn't have to worry about searching in the sea of students for their faces. They'll eventually look up and see an empty desk and associate it with the student that has been sitting there, but here the number of students per class is small so it's not a problem for us to have a random seat wherever we want each day.
For the semester we'll be going over the Bronte Sisters, Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Faulkner.
The first two are my favorites and I've read almost all the books that we'll be going over. So that means I don't have to be focusing on the entire block, instead I can just doodle on my notebook or just be in thoughts, flipping the pages every few minutes to make it look like I was reading it. I was doing it back in Phoenix, so of course I'd be doing it here too.
Government with Jefferson is held in Building 6, and there's nothing special about it.
The class is taught by one of the football coaches, and it's obvious that he's doing this because he has to be a teacher too. He only knows the bare minimum of the subject, and after doing his part of the job for the day he lets us do whatever we want. As long as he doesn't have us in his class next year again, then he thinks that he's done all he can for us.
Trig with Mr. Varner is a nightmare.
The very moment I get into his point of view he's latched onto me, asking me how things were back home, telling me old stories of being on the football team with Charlie. He even makes me stand in the front of the classroom and tell everyone a little bit of myself. Everyone listens with rapt attention, while back home no one would care about what the new student did in their previous school. It's partly because of Charlie, I believe, and they want to know as much as they can about the chief's son. I even trip heading down the aisle to my desk.
Leaving to head off to Spanish I've stepped out of the building when a tall, pale boy with skin problems and greasy black hair pops up next to me. He's lanky and his clothes look secondhand worn like most of my clothes do. The camera strap hanging around his neck and camera sitting in his hands are sure signs of the boy being in the School Newspaper.
"Sorry, I don't do paparazzi," I joke to him, making him look confused for a moment before he realizes what I'm saying. He rubs the nape of his neck and goes to say something only for me to add, "look, I know that I'm the new kid, the chief of police's son, but I don't want my picture taken and I don't want to have an article written about me. I'd prefer my privacy."
Waving goodbye to the guy, I enter my last class before lunch, noting that the girl I shared English with happens to share both the last block and this block with me. She notices me when I sit down and quickly moves so she can sit in front of me. She beams at me brightly, her blue eyes showing intrigue and a look that doesn't abode well. She's ready to sink her acrylic nails into me and not let me go until I tell her every detail of my life.
"Hi! You must be Beau! I'm Jessica, Jessica Stanley. I was wondering if you would like to sit with me and my friends during lunch? We have the best table in the whole cafeteria, and you won't get bored when you are around us."
Deciding to give her a chance, and because I don't want to be looking awkwardly around the cafeteria for a table to sit at, I accepted her offer. The way that she reacts to my response she acts as though I had said that I had gotten us tickets to Coachella. Knowing her she would probably be really annoying during the concert event.
So now, here I am, entering the cafeteria with Jessica, barely listening to her as she rattles off about different people and their social lives. She turns and looks at me before she surprises me and says, "so…you're gay right?"
"I don't know why it should concern you, but yes, I am gay. And no, I'm not going to be your stereotypical gay best friend. I might have a good taste in fashion but I'm not all about shopping trips. I'm not going to be gushing over hot guys with you. I'm more than the stereotypes," I remark, nipping it in the ass when she seems as if she's determined to have that exact kind of relationship with me. I can't help but remember all the annoying girls in school that went after me to be their 'best friend' once I had come out in middle school and entered high school.
She thinks for a minute before she remarks, "I haven't convinced you yet. When I show that I am a really good friend and have a great taste in fashion and men you'll end up filling the role anyway. There's nothing wrong with having some of these stereotypes if they're not hurting people, right?"
Before I can even process how to react to her, we've reached the cafeteria table that she has claimed with her friends. It is in the middle of the room, perfect for them to be seen and for them to see those around them.
The girl from earlier that was walking with her before English is sitting there, along with a cute Asian girl that has a cross necklace and is wearing very conservative clothing. The boy from earlier that had wanted my picture for the school newspaper and probably an interview is sitting there and he notices me before he ducks his head, expecting me to tell him to get up and move.
"You have got to be joking, Jess. You decided to actually feed into that fantasy of having a f–" the girl says only for me to slam my things down onto the cafeteria table. Some of the people around us turn and stare at us, almost sensing that the girl was going to use a slur.
"Oh wow, you're so original in your homophobic. Faggot is not something that I haven't heard about before, hun. It's not my fault that you're as fashionable as the Amish. Even Church Girl here has a better taste in clothes than you do. Now if you don't mind, I'm going to go grab some lunch," I hissed at her, before stalking away, knowing that there was going to be one person who would decide to use a homophobic slur.
Paying for my lunch, I'm welcomed with my inability to walk on flat surfaces as I manage to trip over nothing on the ground. The last thing I need is to fall and have my detestable quality of a lunch meal splattered over one of my favorite cardigans. I'm instead greeted with a pair of arms reaching out to steady me, freezing cold arms that don't even feel as though they are anywhere near humanely functioning when it comes to the temperature of them.
Blushing, I straighten myself up and blush even more at the beautiful boy in front of me.
His hair is the color of pennies and sits artistically messy on his head. His features are soft but not feminine, and still have some sharp features. His eyes are the color of butterscotch, framed with thick eyelashes. His lips are plump and delectable and he's dressed as though he's supposed to be in a fashion magazine. He gives me a slight smile.
"Here's your tray. I'm Edward Cullen."
"Hmm…hmm."
My eyes flicker to the boy that is standing next to him with long golden blond hair that is pulled up in a man bun. His fingernails are freshly manicured and he's wearing vibrant high fashion clothes, while the other boy has more muted clothes. He has the same golden eyes as the others, and his cheekbones are sharper than the other features.
Edward rolls his eyes fondly before he motions towards the blond next to him. "This is Royal Hale, he's my adoptive brother and my boyfriend. I'd like to say that he's not like this all the time but then I would be lying."
Royal waves his hand in dismissal at his boyfriend before he looks at me and gives me a slight nod of approval.
"I am still trying to figure out how I should proceed with my feelings towards you, but I must say that you have an excellent taste in cardigan sweaters. I love the ombre aesthetic. It looks good on you, and no, I'm not meaning that in a condescending way. If I did, I wouldn't have to say it, you would already feel it."
"I like you, you seem fun to hang out with. Anyway, I have to go and socialize with the people that have tried to claim me as their gay best friend. Quick question, what's the deal with that blonde chick that just was about to call me a faggot?" I can't help but ask, there's a look of pure anger that comes from Edward at what I had just said while Royal shrugs his shoulders.
"The deal is she's a bitch, but not the good kind of bitch. The kind of bitch that even the good bitches don't want to be around. Anyway, enjoy your meal. Come on, Edward," Royal remarks, wrapping his arm smugly around his boyfriend before they head over to where their table is.
My eyes land on the other members of the family. Alice, Jessamine, and Emmett.
Jessamine and Emmett are the easy ones to pick out when it comes to the three of them already at the table.
Jessamine is leaning up against her boyfriend and has her dirty blonde hair done in tight Dutch braids down the back of her head. She has on a black light weight shirt with a lime green fishnet short sleeve shirt over it. Her earrings are the same color as her fishnet shirt and are in the style of fangs. Her makeup is both intense but suits her perfectly, not everyone could get away with the smoky rebel makeup and not make it too cliche. Her black pants are simple, and she has on combat boots that have pump heels to them–the combat boots are black while the heels are lime green. She looks like she could punch you in the face and you would thank her for the honor.
Emmett on the other hand has obsidian thick curly hair that is on the top of his head, with a baseball cap sitting smug on his head backwards. There's a thick cotton gray hoodie sweater, dark washed jeans, and some tennis shoes. He's very bland in his clothes, which are still in really good quality, but there's no need for him to have too many accessories on him or wear clothes that could attract all the attention in the world. He's already got the body build of someone who could be on a high school wrestling team easily and help bring the team to state.
Lastly there is Alice Cullen.
She's extremely short and thin.
She's wearing a casual mushroom print lapel collar half sleeve button up shirt (the mushrooms are made in doodle style, and all are the colors of autumn leaves), burnt orange skinny jeans and simple brown loafers. There are even little miniature earrings that are the same style as the pattern on the shirt. A golden peacoat is draped on her back like a fashion statement and there's a book of herbology and botany. She looks as if she would go mushroom foraging or foraging for other plants. She could seriously be a forest nymph in disguise.
Sitting down at the table, I try to tear my attention away from them but keep glancing back. I only tear my attention away from them when two boys come bounding up and sit down at the table. One of them has blond spiky hair that has too much gel on it, a baby face, and way too enthusiasm for one person to deal with. The other is a black boy that is pretty chill compared to his buddy and is part of the basketball team.
The blond spiky haired boy happens to be named Mike Newton and his parents own an Outfitters Store outside of town for campers and outdoor enthusiasts to go to when they are low on supplies. He also happens to have come from Northern California and is trying to bond with me when it comes to living in another state like me.
The black boy is Tyler Crowley, and both of his parents work in Port Angeles but still wanted to let Tyler live in a small town. He's hoping to get an athletic scholarship so he can go to a city college and end up becoming a professional basketball player or even a youth basketball coach. As long as he's doing something with basketball and not living here, he'll be happy.
When the lunch bell rings, I throw away my lunch, noting that I'm most likely going to have to snack on something while I'm making dinner for me and Charlie. I'm probably also going to have to make my own lunch before bed (and hopefully remember it in the morning) because the food wasn't that really great. The food was a little worse than it was in Phoenix, and I don't want to be stuck eating bland food in the forty-five minutes I'm allowed.
Jessica doesn't share my next class with me, and neither does that sour girl named Lauren Mallory.
The church girl, Angela Weber, does but she's shy.
Her dad happens to be the Lutheran Minister but unlike Lauren's immediate judgmental attitude there's nothing that shows Angela finds anything about me sinful or distasteful. She's probably trying to gather up her thoughts on what to say to me, and I'm okay with that. Some people are shy, and some people aren't.
Mr. Banner isn't any different than Mr. Mason when I meet him, but when he motions for me to sit at the only table available for me in Biology, I'm surprised when I see that it's Edward Cullen that is sitting at the biology table. He has one of his hands gripping the table harshly, almost on the verge of the whole thing breaking and hitting the ground. His other hand is up near his nose, as though he's smelt something putrid.
Slowly making my way towards him I sit down and don't even bat an eyelash towards him, because it's not my business even though it is quite intriguing. I don't know what is going on in his mind, and as much as I want to pull it apart and see the inner workings, I know that I've hit a brick wall without even having to be told about it. There's no way that I could try and talk to him, he's too busy invested in making sure he has control of himself that his motivation is impenetrable.
Still, I tuck it into the back of my mind, knowing that I'll have plenty of time after school to analyze his behavior better.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope that I'm doing good so far. I'm not gay, I'm straight, so I hope my representation of Beau doesn't sound too cliche and actually sounds realistic. I didn't really have gay friends growing up. I'm Christian and there was a girl in my group that came out as gay. She told the class before me (that is her right, she doesn't owe anything to me) but she was in my group, and she told all the others before me. She thought that I was going to stop being her friend even though that's not true. We did drift apart, like high schoolers did.
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
as always: Twilight doesn't belong to me.
-it'semmynotemma
