Chapter 3: Beware of Cullen

It had been 123 years, and during this time, my body remained suspended in a state of hibernation, blissfully unaware of the ever-changing world outside. But then, one miraculous day, my heart stirred, and consciousness slowly crept back into me. It was an awakening, but not one that returned me to my 17-year-old self. No, the reality I awoke to was starkly different. A disorienting whirlwind of bright lights and the dissonant cries of children surrounded me.

Struggling to rise and make sense of my surroundings, I realized something was terribly wrong. My movements were feeble like I had just learned to use my limbs all over again. When I mustered the strength to lift my hand, it appeared as small and childlike as the children who roamed about. The strangeness baffled me, as if my past had been locked away in a vault, inaccessible to my conscious mind. What I did know were the most fundamental aspects of existence, an innate sense of right and wrong. I knew I was supposed to be older, but I couldn't remember why. The overwhelming confusion drove me to do the one thing any distressed child would do – I burst into tears.

That marked the start of my life in the orphanage, a brief chapter soon replaced by the embrace of a kind family, the Swans, who named me Amillea Grace Swan. For eight years, their love nurtured me. I'd expected to be more world-wise than my young peers, but I adapted to my new life, forming bonds and finding warmth in the presence of my loving parents. My mother, Renee, an artist, and my father, Charlie, the Chief of Police in the quaint town of Forks, Washington, became my world. Life in Forks had an enchanting quality, yet my story wouldn't be complete without the twists that add complexity.

The story began to shift when I reached the age of eight. My parents, Mom and Dad, had a heated argument, a discord previously unknown in their relationship. My mother, unable to bear the confines of our small town any longer, declared her intentions to relocate us to Arizona, where Nana and Papa awaited. Although disagreements weren't strangers to my parents, they had never escalated to this magnitude. In time, I learned my mother's reason for this sudden upheaval – an insatiable desire for escape. After we arrived in Arizona, we took up residence with my grandparents until I reached the age of eleven. By then, my mother had saved enough to purchase a house. We built a good life away from Forks, and my father, although separated from my mother, remained a part of my life. They agreed I would visit him during the summers and for two weeks during the winter break, keeping the bond intact. Life settled into this rhythm until I turned seventeen, and my mother crossed paths with Phil.

My mom had the ultimate meet-cute with Phil. One of my mom's clients invited us to a baseball game. They generously offered us box seats, accompanied by a few of their friends. Excited about this new adventure, both my mom and I eagerly accepted the invitation. After the game, we even had the unique opportunity to visit the locker rooms and meet the players. It was there that my mom crossed paths with Phil. A quick exchange of words quickly evolved into a conversation, and before I knew it, they were officially dating.

While I was happy for my mom, it was a bit strange for me. I liked Phil but wasn't accustomed to having other men besides my Papa and Dad in our house. So, it was admittedly awkward when my mom started a romantic relationship with Phil. It felt like a role reversal – I went from being a teenager to suddenly becoming a responsible adult because my mom acted like a lovesick teenager. After walking in on them making out for the tenth time, I decided I'd had enough. I told my mom that while I respected her relationship with Phil, I thought it was best for me to leave and give them some space. This way, my mom could enjoy her newfound love, and I wouldn't worry about awkward encounters. Besides, she had spent her entire life looking after me; it was about time I cared for myself.

So, after this heart-to-heart conversation with my mom, I decided to move back to Forks and live with my dad. It was the day I was headed to Forks, and bidding farewell to my mom was more complicated than I thought. She made several attempts to change my mind, but I was persistent about this being beneficial for both of us. She could now accompany Phil to his baseball games while I could focus on my studies and get into a good college. We said our teary goodbyes, and I embarked on my journey to one of the rainiest places in the continental USA.

Upon my arrival in Port Angeles, I disembarked from the plane and entered the quaint local airport. I immediately spotted a familiar figure – a man with short, graying dark hair and a beard. I ran into my dad's open arms, and it was thrilling to see him. Spending time with my dad was always a delight; he had a calm and laid-back demeanor that made him easy to be around. Occasionally, he would get upset due to work-related matters, but fortunately, that didn't happen too often when I was present.

We embarked on the one-hour journey back to Forks in his police cruiser. I wasn't particularly looking forward to being seen riding around in the police cruiser, whether it was on our way home or potentially to school. So, I was relieved when we finally arrived at our cozy two-story house. The house had two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, while we had a comfortable kitchen, dining room, and living room downstairs. The only notable changes since childhood were the updated kitchen, flooring, and room.

As I walked into my newly decorated room, a burst of excitement bubbled within me. Initially painted bright pink, my room had been transformed into a soothing blue. The fresh blue paint, a new cozy comforter, a shiny desk, and a refurbished desktop computer had utterly transformed the space. It was as if I had stumbled into a room at a fancy hotel – a hotel in a cozy two-story house with a great dad. I couldn't help but give my dad a warm hug, thanking him for his support.

He was never good at showing his emotions, but his smile spoke volumes. With a nod, he left me to unpack and headed out to pick up some pizza for dinner.

As I continued reorganizing my room, a sudden thunderous engine roar pierced the air, making me jump in surprise. I hurried to the window and spotted my dad's friend, Billy Black, and his son, Jacob Black, disembarking from a classic '50s red truck. Once I snapped out of my daze, my mischievous side got the better of me. I couldn't resist the temptation to have some fun, so I decided to sneak up on Jacob and jump on his back, hoping to surprise him. However, it was not the most brilliant idea, as I found myself sprawled on the grass with Jacob laughing heartily on top of me.

"So, Mia, thought you could surprise me?" Jacob teased, his laughter echoing in my ear. I tried to maintain a straight face, but it wasn't easy between laughs.

"No, Jacob, I just wanted to say hello, but since you seemed to be ignoring me, I thought I'd seize the opportunity to get your attention," I quipped.

"So, your grand plan to grab my attention was to ambush me from behind?" Jacob replied, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Well, at least I don't throw people on the ground and leave them there," I retorted. Our exchange earned me a helping hand, and finally, my dad turned his attention to me.

"So, Mia, what do you think of the truck?" he asked.

"It's pretty cool, Dad," I replied, turning to Jacob. "Did you restore it, Jacob? I know you're into working on cars."

"Yep, I got this beauty up and running recently. Now, your dad's taking it off my hands so I can start my next project," Jacob said with pride.

Jacob's words made me smile, but then I realized what he meant and turned to my dad.

"Yeah, Mia, that's right. I'm buying this car from Billy and Jacob, so now you won't have to rely on the police cruiser to get to school," my dad announced, excitement radiating from him.

"Mine. You've got to be kidding me. Thank you, dad!" I replied, hugging him, and we headed inside for our pizza dinner. However, in the back of my mind, I pondered whether there was a way to silence the engine so I wouldn't announce my arrival every morning at school. Speaking of school, I could hardly sleep that night due to the anticipation and questions about surviving my first day.

The next morning, after getting ready, I descended the stairs to find a note from Charlie:

Dear Mia,

Good luck on your first day of school. I'm sorry I couldn't see you off; I had to head to work early. I look forward to hearing your stories tonight. Don't worry about dinner; I want to take you to our favorite place to celebrate your first day. I hope it's a good one.

Love,

Your Dad

My Forks High School debut kicked off with a hearty breakfast and a side of adventure. Finding the school was a cinch, considering the parking lot was still as vacant as a Monday morning coffee shop. I strutted into the front office with the confidence of a seasoned pro, where I met Mrs. Shay, a seasoned pro and the front desk queen. With a grin that could outshine the Forks sun (on those rare occasions), I introduced myself as Amillea Swan, and Mrs. Shay rolled out the welcome wagon.

After that charming exchange, I was handed a schedule – the treasure map to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of high school. I had one mission: to have that schedule signed by every teacher and return it at the end of the day. Now, if only I could get my algebra homework to sign itself... Anyway, off I went to my first class, the Land of Literature, with Mrs. Brandon, a woman of words and wisdom. She scribbled her autograph on my schedule and sent me to stake my claim on an open desk right smack in the middle of the classroom.

While class went on, I couldn't help but notice my classmates giving me the once-over. After the literary adventure, a dude named Eric Yorkie sauntered over, introducing himself. We had a free period, so he volunteered for the 'New Kid Orientation' duty, showing me the ropes and ensuring I didn't end up in the janitor's closet by accident.

The morning sped by as fellow students continued to extend their warm welcome. Angela Weber became my companion in Trig class, and I was soon acquainted with Mike Newton, my partner in English. The cherry on top of my morning was meeting Jessica Stanley, a popular figure known for her knack for news and the unofficial voice of the school. During our gym session, she shared a wealth of gossip, weaving a colorful tapestry of chatter throughout Forks. Surprisingly, Jessica proved to be a pleasant company, and she even extended an invitation to join her for lunch, adding a dose of excitement to the day.

Lunchtime felt like a TV game show, with Jessica, Eric, and Mike firing questions at me. Angela, our resident stealth ninja, took a calm and collected approach, which I greatly appreciated.

But then, the lunchtime quiz show took a sudden twist when a parade of exceptionally good-looking individuals sauntered in. It started with a pixie-like girl with brown hair exhibiting more grace than a ballet dancer on roller skates. Her partner in crime was a handsome blond dude, but his expression screamed, "I've just smelled something awful." The next duo was a drop-dead-gorgeous blond bombshell and a strapping lad, built like a brick wall, with short brown hair. Finally, the pièce de résistance was a dark-haired man with hints of fiery red gliding through the doors. His grace made him look like he was moonwalking on air, and I couldn't tear my eyes away. What caught my attention, even more was the oddity that all of them had topaz eyes, like they'd formed a secret topaz-eyed club. Their flawless, almost supernatural beauty was alluring and eerie, giving off an unmistakable 'predator on the prowl' vibe.

Unable to suppress my curiosity, I leaned in closer to Jessica, the school's resident gossip connoisseur, and couldn't help but inquire about the newcomers.

"Jessica," I whispered, "who on earth are they?"

Curious, Jessica followed my gaze to the captivating group that had just strolled in. "Oh, them?" she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You mean the Cullens," she explained. "Here's the inside scoop: they're the adopted children of Mr. and Mrs. Cullen because she couldn't have kids of her own. First, they took in the blond twins, Rosalie and Jasper. They are Mrs. Cullen's niece and nephew, whose parents died in a car accident. Then, Mrs. Cullen decided she needed more, so they adopted the rest. It's kind of unusual, but what's even more unique is that some of them are dating, even though they're technically siblings. The first duo is the graceful brown-haired pixie Alice and her blond companion, Jasper. The second pair consists of the blond beauty Rosalie and Emmett, who's a bit of a hunk and used to be a football player at his old school. The last member is Edward Cullen – single, utterly gorgeous, but don't waste your breath asking him out. Apparently, none of the local girls meet his high standards."

"Okay," was all I could muster in response. Although, I couldn't help but wonder if Jessica had once fallen victim to the 'Cullen rejection.'

As for Edward, I couldn't shake the feeling that he had a sixth sense, perhaps for predicting the cafeteria's daily special. His knowing smirk was better concealed than secret-agent gadgets, and it had me second-guessing my every glance. Amid these clandestine glances, something clicked during one of those unintentional eye-locks. His eyes seemed to scream 'Danger Zone,' but whisper 'Trust Me,' creating a puzzle more perplexing than a Sudoku during a hurricane. I chalked it up to lunchroom lunacy but couldn't deny one truth – I was more than just a little magnetically drawn to him.

As I settled into the empty seat beside Edward Cullen, my heart performed a tiny, dramatic somersault. The lab we were about to embark on was something I had already tackled in my previous school, and I wasn't afraid to show it. After introducing myself to Mr. Banner as the 'new kid,' he casually signed my slip and nodded towards the only available seat in the classroom, right next to Edward.

The atmosphere was initially as solemn as Edward's expression. His eyes resembled an approaching storm, and he seemed deeply lost in thought. However, in a moment, he glanced away, and when his gaze returned, a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes, accompanied by a sly smile.

Not one to back down from a friendly challenge, I quipped, "Edward, it appears you've rejoined the land of the living."

Edward responded with a soft chuckle, transforming his eyes from stormy black to bright, polished topaz. "My thoughts can be a difficult place. It's a wonder I ever find my way back."

With our playful exchange, our connection extended beyond the microscope slides and the study of mitosis phases. It was as if we'd discovered a way to bridge the enigmatic allure of Edward Cullen with the curiosity of the 'new kid,' marking the beginning of something unique between us.

A playful exchange unfolded as Edward and I took turns with the microscope.

"Ladies first," Edward said with a courteous gesture as he moved the microscope toward me.

With a smirk, I peered into the microscope and confidently declared, "Prophase."

Edward, wearing a hint of skepticism, responded, "Mind if I check?" I slid the microscope toward him, and he examined the slide, nodding in agreement and jotting down the answer. When he moved to the next slide and glanced at it, he suddenly proclaimed, "Metaphase."

I couldn't resist a teasing tone, "Mind if I double-check?" After a brief pause for dramatic effect, I returned the microscope, nodded with mock seriousness, and wrote down "Metaphase." Passing it back to him, I couldn't help but add, "Great minds think alike."

Edward chuckled at the playful banter and moved on to the next slide, announcing, "Anaphase." He turned to me and inquired, "Do you want to check?"

I looked over with a sly grin and replied, "No need, I trust you." His surprised expression hinted that he might not have expected such confidence.

This unexpected display of trust surprised Edward, perhaps making him question my microscope-validation skills. However, it was just another day at the mitosis office since I'd tackled this lab at my previous school. The rest of the class went by in a whirl of phase-identifying antics until Mr. Banner finally gave us the golden ticket to chat about non-mitosis topics.

As we delved into our casual conversation, we covered the usual suspects, like the weather and family dynamics. Edward opened up about his deep affection for his family, particularly his dad, Dr. Cullen. He assured me that Mrs. Cullen was the sweetest person he'd ever met, and they all got along swimmingly. I couldn't help but quip, "So, they're the perfect family, huh? Do they bake cookies and grill out on the weekend? Maybe go crazy and get some exotic meats now and then?"

Edward chuckled, a glint of humor in his eyes. "Well, you've got the exotic part right. Rare venison is more their style, a little taste of the wild. But we do bake cookies together sometimes. At least Alice and Esme do; the rest of us try not to burn the kitchen down."

I grinned in response. "Venison and cookies, quite the combination."

After some laughter, we discussed my journey to Forks, sharing tales of my not-so-sunny experiences. As the bell rang, the lively banter between Edward and me ended. We both gathered our belongings, and I headed out of the biology classroom while Edward approached his gleaming Volvo, parked in the lot.

As he approached his car, I noticed a group of exceptionally good-looking individuals waiting inside – his family, I presumed. They seemed to emit an air of mystery and allure, just like Edward himself. Walking towards my car, my thoughts were a jumble of questions about the enigmatic Edward Cullen. There was an undeniable fascination surrounding him, and I couldn't help but wonder what lay behind those striking topaz eyes and that charming smile. The rest of the day passed in a blur as I drove home, but my mind kept circling back to the intriguing puzzle of Edward Cullen.

On my way home, I decided to make a pit stop at the grocery store – a bold move, considering my dad's culinary skills were a unique blend of "edible" and "mysterious." I wasn't about to break the bank by dining out every night, so I figured I'd stock up on some survival essentials. You know, just in case the dining situation turned dire. When I finally reached home, I dove into my homework like a lifeboat on a sinking ship. All the while, I eagerly awaited my dad's return, knowing that tonight, we had a dinner date – his promise to take me out to eat. It was a welcome relief from my role as the family chef, not to mention the salvation from Charlie's disastrous attempts in the kitchen.

Once Dad arrived, we embarked on our usual father-daughter dining adventure. I treated him to tales of my day – about my new friends and the general happiness I was experiencing. It seemed like I was connecting with the local youth like a professional socialite. However, I was starting to wonder if my conversational skills were deteriorating under the weight of an endless stream of biology facts.

After dinner, we embarked on the treacherous journey back home, which, let me tell you, was a rollercoaster ride of excitement. Not really. It was a smooth drive in silence. Back at the house, I got to work on the rest of my homework because what's more thrilling than math problems and term papers?

I finally emerged from the abyss of assignments and considered my options. Feeling exceptionally wild, I decided to go on a daring adventure: checking my emails. Amidst the sea of spam, I spotted an email from my mom.

"Hi, sweetie,

I hope you're doing great up there. Phil and I are enjoying the sunny life down in Jacksonville, Florida. The weather is a treat, and he's all wrapped up with his new baseball team. I've been exploring the artsy side of the city, and trust me, there's no shortage of inspiration here.

I hope your dad is taking good care of you, but if he's relying on microwave meals, maybe it's time you put those cooking skills to good use!

Drop me a line when you can. I can't wait to hear what's happening in your world.

Love and sunny vibes,

Mama

My mom had a knack for combining genuine affection with a side of snark. So, I decided to answer in kind:

Dear Mom,

School is going great despite the endless rain here in Forks. I've made some fantastic friends, and we're planning to take over the town at a party this weekend. Dad's doing his best to keep my culinary skills sharp, and he surprised me with a car! No more riding around in the cop car, thankfully. Plus, I've got this slick new desktop that's turning homework into a walk in the park.

Florida sounds like a dream! I can't wait to hear all about your adventures. Enjoy the sun for me!

Lots of love,

Mia

Emails tackled, I embarked on the most daring quest – preparing for bed. A hot shower was the first order of business because when life gives you rain, you appreciate hot water like it's a Nobel Prize. I want to think I spent approximately an eternity basking in the warm embrace of the shower, but don't we all when the water's hot and the bathroom's warm?

The transition from the perpetually sun-soaked landscapes of Phoenix, Arizona, to the rain-soaked town of Forks had ushered in a surreal shift in my life. During these never-ending rainy days, my dreams began to assail me with visions of a world entirely foreign yet oddly familiar.

In these dreams, I became privy to the life of a girl who had grown up on a small, picturesque farm. She was like a haunting reflection of my life, surrounded by the peaceful simplicity of rural existence. There was a caring motherly figure, her warm presence embracing the farm's every corner. The young boy who cared for her, not much older than I was in the dream, carried a burden of responsibility and affection that felt remarkably real. His eyes held a world of tenderness, much like the gaze of a loyal protector. His actions spoke of an unbreakable bond, and it was impossible not to feel their connection despite being merely an observer.

The girl's sudden, unrelenting fever unraveled the dream's serenity. Much like the relentless rain outside, the fever continued to climb, leaving the boy who cared for her with no choice but to rush her to the local hospital. The vivid hospital scenes within the dream mirrored the stark, sterile reality of a medical facility. There, the girl lay, her body a battleground for an unknown illness.

But it was around this point in the dream, as the girl's life dangled on the precipice of uncertainty, that a figure appeared. A tall and fair doctor with hair as pale as the misty rain outside stood at the foot of her bed. His eyes, those piercing topaz orbs, held an innate warmth that clashed with his clinical surroundings.

The familiarity between this doctor and some of the students I had met at Forks High School was unmistakable. It was in the curve of his smile, the kindness that radiated from his very being, and the way he moved with the grace of someone who had seen the world. Yet, despite these inexplicable similarities, I was left grappling with the impossibility of any connection between my life and these enigmatic dreams. Dreams, after all, were mere phantoms of the mind, detached from the concrete world. Right?