I parked my truck in front of the empty building, disregarding any potential parking restrictions. Honestly, I'd rather risk it than embarrass myself, getting lost like a complete idiot in the pouring rain. Reluctantly, I left the warmth of my truck behind and trudged along the wet stone path, bordered by a dark hedge. The office was smaller than expected, surprisingly warm, and lit with those overly bright fluorescent lights. The carpets boasted specks of Garfield Orange, the folding chairs were cushioned, and a big clock never stopped ticking. And even though the world outside was a green wonderland, they couldn't resist cluttering every corner with those dusty plastic potted plants.
On the other side of a long counter, amidst wire baskets and random colorful flyers taped to the plexiglass front, sat a woman behind one of three desks. She looked just as you'd imagine - red hair, glasses - but added her touch of the unexpected with a purple T-shirt. Maybe my expectations were too high for Forks, I don't know.
I glanced at her and asked, 'Can you help me?'
She gave me a puzzled look but immediately understood. 'Oh, sure,' she said, diving into a precarious pile of documents on her desk. I caught snippets of her muttering as she pulled out the page she was looking for. 'I thought you were a girl.'
Confused, I asked, 'Huh?'
She tossed me several sheets from under the counter, saying, 'I've got your schedule right here, and here's a map of the school.'
I expected her to simply send me on my way, but instead, she highlighted the best routes, went over my classes with me, and even gave me a sheet to have each teacher sign by the end of the day.
She was nice, albeit a bit high-strung. It was clear that she genuinely wanted me to enjoy my new life here, and I did my best to convince her that I could.
By the time I stepped back outside, other students were pulling up. I followed the line of traffic and felt relieved to see that most of them had cars that were just as bad, if not worse, than mine.
One thing Forks had over my old home was that I always felt embarrassed seeing all those Mercedes and Porsches rolling into school. But here, the fanciest car around was a shiny Volvo, which felt more out of place than impressive.
Even then, I turned off my car engine as soon as I could. My goal was to avoid drawing any unnecessary attention.
While in the truck, I did my best to memorize the map. I had zero interest in wandering around like a clueless moron with my nose buried in it all day.
Taking a deep breath, I whispered to myself, 'I can do this,' trying to convince myself with a blatant lie before finally leaving my truck.
Hood up, head down, I navigated my way into the sea of students flooding the school. Barely noticeable within the bustling crowd.
Building 3 stood out with its prominent number painted on the side. Controlling my escalating breathing became a challenge as I approached my first class. I tried to hold my breath, following closely behind two students in front of me.
The classroom was small, and the two students ahead of me stopped to hang their coats on hooks. Without thinking, I mimicked their actions and did the same. They were two guys, one with glass like blond hair, the other pale with light brown hair. At least I didn't stick out as the whitest guy here.
English was up first, taught by Mr. Mason, a towering figure with a receding hairline who seemed to have no discernible personality. The moment he spotted my name, his eyes widened in surprise, and he swiftly pointed me towards a vacant desk at the back of the room. It was meant to be a gesture of goodwill, I suppose, but it only made the staring more pronounced. So, I did what any self-respecting introvert would do: I kept my eyes glued to the desk, out of sight and hopefully out of mind. Maybe they would eventually lose interest once they realized how utterly unremarkable I truly was.
The class itself was painfully basic, like a lecture on tying shoelaces for PhD holders. I had already read the likes of Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner, and then some. Suffice it to say, this mundane class was no more stimulating than watching paint dry. Coaxing Dad into rummaging through the storage room to dig out my old essays would have been a more enriching experience. Dad would see it as cheating, and I would argue it was fine. I miss Dad. It's crazy even when he's not here, I still find myself thinking about him. Maybe I need some friends.
Just as I was about to drift away into my thoughts, the sound of a nasal buzz broke the monotony and announced the end of class. It was the school bell, I guessed. Before I could retreat unseen, a nerdy, lanky girl with oil-drenched hair leaned in to strike up a conversation.
"So, you're Billy Swan?" she asked, her surprisingly loud voice contrasting with her mice-like appearance, complete with a grandma sweater.
"Bela," I corrected, causing nearby glances to dart our way. "You know, like Bela Lugosi. My parents are lame..."
"Cool," she brushed off my comment with a nonchalant wave. Unfazed, she continued with her well-rehearsed lines. "What's your next class?"
Reluctantly, I followed her lead, hoping to keep this encounter as brief as possible. I rummaged through my bag, searching for my schedule. "Um, Government. Taught by Jefferson, and it's in building six."
As I glanced at the other students, their eyes remained fixed, were they expecting me to sprout wings and start chanting "hare krishna," or something? Was a conversation between two dweebs really this interesting?
"I'm Erica, by the way," she chimed in, her words trailing off.
"Huh?" I responded awkwardly, caught off guard by the abrupt introduction. Equally awkward, she let out an uneasy laugh and attempted to resume her sentence. "I said I can show yo—"
"Yeah, thanks!" I quickly interjected, letting instinct take the wheel and cutting her off mid-sentence. Can I just disappear?
As the rain hammered down, we ventured outside. It felt like we were being shadowed or eavesdropped on, but honestly, cool stuff like that doesn't happen. The school was just small, and we were all headed in the same direction.
"Not quite like your old school, huh?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Bet you didn't see much rain there," she mused.
"Maybe once or twice," I joked absentmindedly.
"Wow, I can't even imagine," she said, pondering.
"Just think of a oven," I muttered, barely paying attention.
"Where's your tan, then?" she asked.
"My dad's a ginger," I said jokingly, only to be met with silence and her confused face. My dry sense of humor didn't quite land in this wet town of Forks. Soon enough, even Dilbert would be lost on me.
We made our way around the cafeteria and toward the south of the gym. Erica led me right to the door I needed. It was pretty obvious, but I appreciated the thought.
"Good luck," she wished as I reached for the door. "Hopefully, we'll have more classes together." She seemed genuinely interested in being friends.
I smiled back sheepishly and stepped inside.
The rest of the day followed a similar pattern. The Trigonometry teacher of course was the only one that forced me to introduce myself. It was a total failure and I spent the rest of class hiding my face in my desk.
But as the day went on, faces became more familiar, and more people decided to engage with the "freak show" instead of just staring. Of course, they asked the usual basic questions: "Do you like it here?" "Why did you come back?" I gave vague, shrugged answers. On the bright side, I didn't need the map.
A guy sat next to me in Trig and Spanish, accompanying me to lunch. He still had that middle school look, barely reaching five foot two with his wild, curly dark hair. I'm not sure if he ever said his name, or maybe I simply wasn't listening. Nonetheless, he seemed to enjoy talking at me.
The lunch table was crowded with his friends, and he happily introduced me. I didn't catch all their names, except for Erica, who was also there. At least they seemed happy.
Sitting amongst these oddly kind strangers was where I first saw them.
Sitting far away in the corner of the long cafeteria were five individuals. They didn't eat, they didn't talk, and they didn't stare at me like everyone else. It was my first opportunity of the day to truly observe someone without the fear of making eye contact.
Just as annoying as the people who had irritated me earlier, I stalked them with my eyes. They were strange, simultaneously alike and different.
Among them were two girls - one was a serious-looking giant, with short brown hair and the build of a wrestler. The other was tall, lean, and still carried an air of toughness, with dark thick curly hair which matched her dark complexion. The guys were completely distinct. One was statuesque with the physique of a swimmer, the kind of guy that made girls swoon and guys aspire to be. His long platinum blonde hair seemed to exude wealth, and he appeared like a statue brought to life. Then there was a shorter guy, resembling an elf straight out of Middle-earth. He had a thin, pixie-like figure and hair that sharply pointed outward giving him a distinct appearance. Lastly, there was a lanky boy, not as thin or statuesque as the others. He had untidy bronze hair and a youthful face that gave off a more child-like vibe compared to the rest. While they all carried an older aura, he felt the most like an actual student.
They were so different, yet so alike, with a peculiar otherworldly quality. Even the brown-skinned girl seemed to be constantly under some kind of filter, their appearance almost albino-like. Even for this sunless town of Forks, it was a bit excessive.
And if that wasn't intriguing enough, they all bore an unmistakable look of sleep deprivation. Thick dark circles under their eyes resembled bruises more than anything else.
Yet, they were perfect in their strange, angular, and marble-like way. I simply couldn't divert my gaze. I couldn't help but question why such perfect angel-faced beauties were in this small town instead of appearing on TV or in the movies. Each one captivated me, and I struggled to decide on whom to focus my attention.
Suddenly, the elf-like boy gracefully discarded his untouched apple and soda. He departed with a rhythm that felt like a dance to music I couldn't hear, disappearing in the blink of an eye. Meanwhile, the rest remained unmoved and unchanged, looking at nothing, not even interacting with each other.
Curiosity getting the best of me, I turned to one of my new friends and asked, "What's their deal?"
He glanced around the room, his gaze falling on the lanky one, possibly the youngest of the group. In turn, the boy looked up, and our eyes briefly met - or at least, I think they did. The moment passed so quickly, he looked away faster than I did, and I felt too embarrassed to steal a second glance.
It was weird, it was like he was responding to being called over, like an involuntary response.
My accomplice couldn't help but laugh nervously after being caught spying on the other table.
"That's the kids who live with Dr. Cullen and her husband," he disclosed quietly, sitting back down to face me. "Oliver and Hazel Hale. And the others are Edward, Emma, and Arthur Cullen."
I glanced at them from the corner of my eyes noticing how the baby faced boy nibbled on a small piece of his bagel while absentmindedly picking at his apple with long, pale fingers. His mouth didn't seem to move, yet I couldn't shake the feeling that they were engaged in a hushed conversation amongst themselves.
They were peculiar, and I wondered if they belonged to some sort of cult. Their names were crazy old-fashioned, but perhaps that was a thing in this town. Then again, I'm pretty sure my new friend is named Jesse, and I know a ton of those back home.
"They are something..." I trailed off, struggling to find the right words to describe them.
"Yeah, dude!" Jesse exclaimed, accidentally spitting a bit as he nervously laughed. "They are, like, totally together! Like with Hazel and Arthur, and Emma with Oliver," he added with evident jealousy, perhaps tinged with some small-town puritanism. But honestly, I'm pretty sure even in Phoenix, this would have been something.
He continued, "It's cool because they are, like, totally not related. They're all adopted. The doctor is super young and took them in when they were little or something." He added with a slightly nervous laugh, "they are like, totally banging."
"They look kinda old," I pondered aloud.
"Yeah, but it's not like they were going to be kicked out once they hit high school," he explained. "The oldest two are only 18, and I'm pretty sure they're set until college."
"It sucks that they're orphans, but they're lucky to have someone looking out for them," I added.
"I know, right?" Jesse admitted, his jealousy evident in his tone. "Probably can't have kids or something," he added with a hint of spite before shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.
Throughout our conversation, I randomly stole glances at the family. They still weren't eating, still staring at walls, moving sporadically as though trying to create an illusion of normalcy.
"So, they haven't always been here, right?" I asked, I can be detached but, could I have honestly missed the weirdo elf kids during one of the summers I came to Forks?
