A/N I don't own Twilight, that's the property of Stephanie Meyer. Anya Simms is all mine.

Chapter 6: First Day Jitters

APOV

Finding the school was easier than anticipated—I merely followed the yellow school buses. It was almost comical how they served as trail of breadcrumbs, leading me straight to my destination. For a brief moment, I nearly found myself following a different bus until I caught sight of the tiny hands pressed against the windows. Right—I'm the librarian for the high school, not the elementary school. I gave myself a mental shake, pulling myself together. Once more into the breach, I thought, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead.

The parking lot soon came into view, and I did a quick scan for a large orange truck. Or was it red? Merde! I couldn't remember the exact colour of Bella's truck. But as I looked around, none of the cars or trucks in the lot seemed derelict enough to be hers. That part I did remember—a truck that old and beat-up would be hard to miss.

With a small sigh, I adjusted my beret, straightened my navy-blue coat, and made my way confidently toward the main doors. My rain boots made soft thuds against the pavement, and I couldn't help but feel très chic despite the drizzly Forks weather. But as I reached the entrance, a strange sensation washed over me—the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I instinctively stopped, turning around to look.

And there it was—the Volvo. Edward the mind reader's car, sleek and silver, parked with an air of subtle authority. And just a few spaces away, the Jeep. Rose and Emmett's vehicle of choice. I felt a small hint of curiosity tug at me, but I quickly shook it off. I have a library to find, and getting distracted by vampires isn't on today's agenda.

Right, where the hell would the library be? I stood in the hallway, my eyes scanning the signs, but I honestly had zero recollection if Meyer even mentioned the library in the book. Great, I thought, feeling a small wave of frustration. How am I supposed to find my way around a school that technically doesn't exist in my world?

Still, I had to start somewhere, so I took a deep breath and began walking, hoping that I'd stumble upon the library—or at least someone who could point me in the right direction. The hallways were still mostly empty, the first bell hadn't rung yet, so I had a few moments to get my bearings.

Colour me surprised when it was a pimply-faced teenage boy who came to my rescue. He had a mop of sandy blond hair and blue eyes—I made sure to check. He introduced himself with an eager smile as Mike Newton and immediately asked if I was the new librarian.

Right, of course, it's Mike—the one who was more than willing to show Bella around on her first day. That's… disturbing. Didn't she also start on the first day of the new year? I tried to remember, but the finer points of the book had always been a bit fuzzy, especially since everyone in book club was more wrapped up in the star-crossed lovers than the actual details of the school year.

Mike continued to talk, and I noticed his gaze flicker over me, not in a creepy way, but definitely in that typical teenage boy way. His eyes lingered a moment longer on my coat, then my boots, and finally on my face before he seemed to catch himself and refocus on our conversation. I found myself suppressing a laugh as I remembered the time I did a dramatic reading of the book back in September, complete with exaggerated swooning and long, tortured pauses for effect. The group had eaten it up, half of them sighing over Edward and Bella's romance, while the other half snickered at the melodrama. And here I was, smack dab in the middle of it all, with Mike Newton—Forks High School's resident nice guy—offering to guide me to my new domain.

"Yep, that's me," I replied, putting on my best professional smile, though the humour of the situation was bubbling just below the surface. "I'm the new librarian. Do you know where the library is?"

Mike grinned, clearly pleased to be of help, but I could see he was still trying to figure me out—like he couldn't quite place me. "Yeah, it's not far. I can show you the way if you want."

Well, at least this Mike isn't trying to charm his way into my good graces, I thought, following him down the hallway. He was chatty, of course, rambling on about the school, the teachers, and how things worked around here. I nodded along, letting his words wash over me as I took in my surroundings.

But as we walked, the surreal nature of my situation kept creeping back into my thoughts. I was living in a world that wasn't mine, interacting with characters I only knew from the pages of a book. And now, I was about to take on the role of Forks High's new librarian—yet another twist in this strange, alternate life I was apparently living.

Mike's voice pulled me back to the present as we arrived at a set of double doors. "Here we are—the library."

"Thanks, Mike," I said, genuinely appreciative. "I'll take it from here."

He flashed another smile, his eyes flicking over me one last time, and then headed off to wherever he was supposed to be before the bell rang. I watched him go, shaking my head slightly as I turned to face the library doors.

Well, Anya, I thought to myself, here we go—time to see what this version of the story has in store for you.

It took all of thirty seconds once I found the bank of lights, to understand why everyone seemed to know who I was—or at least why they were so excited that Anya Simms had taken the post. The library was… well, how do I put this politely?

No—there's no polite way to say it. It was a disaster of the highest order.

Books were piled haphazardly on tables, some even stacked on the floor. Shelves were half-empty, half-stuffed with what looked like random assortments of novels, textbooks, and ancient encyclopedias. Dust motes danced in the beams of light filtering through the windows, and the air had that musty, forgotten smell that spoke of years of neglect.

And here I was, dressed as a sexy librarian when a hazmat suit would have been more appropriate.

I glanced down at my fitted pencil skirt and silk blouse, the rain boots peeking out from beneath the hem. Très chic? Sure. Practical for dealing with this mess? Not in the slightest. I couldn't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. This was going to take more than just a bit of tidying up. It was going to take a full-on rescue operation to bring this place back to life. What had American Anya gotten herself into? I wondered, feeling a mix of frustration and determination well up within me.

Right, I had my work cut out for me, that much was clear. But if I was going to be stuck in this strange alternate life, I might as well make the most of it, much like I'd taken control of setting up house on the weekend. Rolling up my sleeves—at least metaphorically—I took a deep breath and stepped further into the domain that I had apparently moved cross country to, ready to take on the challenge.

I kept the rain boots on—they were the only thing even remotely practical for dealing with this mess. Then, I reached into my leather bag and pulled out my trusty notebook, flipping it open to a fresh page. First things first: Do I own anything remotely appropriate for this kind of disaster management?

As I scrawled the question down, I was relieved to remember that at least American Anya had an MP3 player tucked away somewhere, filled with the same rock music that had been my soundtrack for unpacking. Now, it would be my soundtrack for cleaning. In a pencil skirt, silk stockings, and silk undergarments.

Because, of course, that's how American Anya would have dressed on her first day. Did she know this was what she was walking into? I hadn't found anything in her—my—belongings that hinted at the disaster waiting for me in the library. No ominous memos, no frantic emails, not even a sticky note with a simple "Good luck."

Two hours in, I was up to my elbows in dust and disorder, and I made another note in my notebook: Find my contract. Determine what the fuck my salary is. Oh God, do librarians get paid hourly?

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I had a PhD—or at least, I was working on one. What was I doing in a place that needed more of an exorcism than a librarian?

I paused for a moment, looking around at the piles of books, the half-empty shelves, and the general state of disarray. This was going to take more than a few hours, I realized, making yet another note to find some cleaning supplies. Maybe American Anya had hidden industrial grade cleaning supplies somewhere in that well-organized house of hers. I could only hope.

But what I did know was that every high school had a faculty lounge, and there was usually a coffee pot. Caffeine was going to be my only hope if I had any chance of surviving the day.

I changed out of the rain boots and slipped on my heels, feeling a bit more like the polished librarian I was supposed to be. Pulled my compact out of my bag to do a quick pat down for any stray hairs or possibly cobwebs and swiped a quick coat of perfectly pink lipstick. Taking one last look around I ripped a page out of notebook to scribble a quick note and stuck it to the library door: "CLOSED for INVENTORY." It wasn't a lie, exactly, but it would buy me some time to figure out how to tackle the disaster zone behind me.

My heels tapped sharply against the floor as I made my way down the hallway, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet building. I was focused on finding that elusive coffee pot when a familiar prickly sensation crept up my spine. Something—or rather, someone—was nearby.

I found myself drawn to the open door of a classroom and, sure enough, there they were. Or at least, one of them—the vampires. Not the mind reader, and, rather disappointingly, not the empath either.

No, this was the beauty. Rosalie.

I paused, lingering just outside the door, and couldn't help but take in her presence. Yeah, she was pretty. More than pretty, actually. It was like looking at a statue carved by some ancient artist—perfect in every detail. But there was something else too. A sadness, an underlying melancholy that I knew all too well. I remembered her story, her pain, and despite the perfect exterior, I could sense the weight she carried. She didn't deserve this, I thought, feeling an unexpected pang of empathy. I could somewhat relate—different circumstances, but pain is pain. We all had our scars, hidden or not.

I hesitated for a moment longer, watching as she moved with that effortless grace, completely unaware of my presence. It struck me how strange this was—standing here, in a place that felt like fiction brought to life, watching a character I had only ever imagined on the page. It was surreal, and yet, it was real.

With a sigh, I tore myself away from the doorway, shaking off the lingering sense of connection. I had a job to do, and right now, that job was finding coffee.

You're here to be the librarian, not a stage actor, I reminded myself, as my heels continued to clack down the hall, though I couldn't help but chortle at the memory of my dramatic reading. I had laid it on thick with the Texan drawl for Jasper's lines, and the ladies in book club had practically been rolling on the floor. Maybe I did miss my calling for the stage.

But there was no time for that now. I squared my shoulders once more and turned the corner, determined to locate that faculty lounge and get my much-needed caffeine fix. First things first, I thought, pushing the door open to the lounge. Coffee, then I'll figure out how to tackle the rest of this insane day.

I forgot to pack a lunch. That's how I found myself standing in the high school cafeteria, an eager Mike Newton practically bouncing around as he introduced me to everyone and anyone who would listen. I stood there, patiently waiting for my turn to get whatever the special was for the day—something that looked vaguely edible but not entirely promising.

Didn't Bella eat in the cafeteria? I wondered, trying to remember the details from the book. With Jessica? I scanned the room as Mike chattered on, but there was no Bella in the crowd he introduced me to.

Angela and the Yorkie kid—Eric, I mentally corrected—seemed genuinely excited to hear that the library was now staffed. They were eager to know when it would be open, peppering me with questions about what books I'd be bringing in, if there would be any new arrivals, or if they could help organize the shelves.

This was hell. I was in hell.

Trying to keep my smile polite, I nodded along, promising them that the library would be open as soon as I could get it in shape. But internally, I was counting down the minutes until I could escape this nightmare. High school cafeterias hadn't been pleasant the first time around, and they certainly hadn't improved with age.

And then, just as I thought the day couldn't get any more surreal, I was distracted by the honey-coloured five-pack as they made their entrance.

And an entrance it was.

The entire cafeteria seemed to collectively hold its breath as the Cullens walked in, gliding through the room like they owned the place. Edward, Emmett, Alice, Jasper, and Rosalie—all of them impossibly beautiful, impossibly graceful, and completely out of place in a room full of awkward, gawky teenagers.

My heart did a little flip-flop in my chest, and I quickly focused on my lunch tray, trying to act like I hadn't noticed the wave of awe that rippled through the room. But it was impossible to ignore them, especially when they moved with such synchronized perfection.

This is what it feels like to be in a movie, I thought, half in awe and half in disbelief. It was one thing to read about their presence in the book, but seeing it in real life? It was something else entirely.

I risked a glance in their direction, trying to be subtle about it. Edward's gaze flicked over the crowd, briefly settling on me before moving on, his expression tight with frustration. Rosalie's eyes were cool and detached, Emmett was grinning about something, and Alice—well, Alice looked as pixie-like and cheerful as ever. But it was Jasper who really caught my attention. His expression was calm, but there was a distinct tension in his posture, like he was picking up on something that intrigued him, something he couldn't quite place.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, "Do they synchronize swim as well?"

Mike, who had been happily chatting away about something I wasn't really listening to, paused mid-sentence, confusion written all over his face. "Uh, what? Swim team? No, I don't think we have one… or maybe we do? I'm not really sure."

I quickly shook my head, trying to cover my slip. "Never mind," I said, waving it off as if I hadn't just asked the most ridiculous question. But the thought of the Cullens doing anything in sync—like swimming—was both bananas and, in a weird way, entirely fitting. They moved with such perfect coordination, like they were all attuned to some silent rhythm that no one else could hear.

It was almost mesmerizing to watch, and the thought that flitted through my mind was more ridiculous than anything else.

"Ooo, synchronized swimmers on a sunny day!" I thought, the image of them gliding through the water, their sparkling skin catching the sunlight like sequins, their skin as the costume. It was so absurd that I couldn't help but chuckle softly to myself.

I caught Edward's eye again, and this time I didn't look away. Instead, I let a small, knowing smile play on my lips, the laugh still bubbling up inside me. His frustration was palpable, but I wasn't embarrassed—not in the slightest. If anything, I found the whole situation amusing, like I was in on a joke that no one else in the room understood.

I grabbed my lunch tray and turned, giving them one last look before I left the cafeteria. As I walked away, I couldn't resist a little wiggle of my hips, just to emphasize the lightness I felt in that moment. Let them watch, I thought, fully aware of their gaze following me. It didn't bother me. If anything, it was oddly empowering.

The honey-colored five-pack was the highlight of an otherwise dreary and dusty first day. Oh, to have vampire speed to clean, I thought once I reached my domain once more.