Dear Diary, Today will be different; it has to be.

I will smile, and it will be believable.

My smile will say, 'I'm fine, thank you.'

'Yes, I feel much better.' I will no longer be the sad little girl who lost her parents.

I will.

It's the only way I'll make it through.

AN: This is new-ish.

Today's the day I finally muster to introduce myself to two amazing girls: Isabella Swan, who has this captivating vibe and quiet strength, and Elena Gilbert, whose lively spirit shines like a bright light. I'm excited and nervous as I get ready to meet the light and the bird girl, two different but enchanting personalities.

"Wow, Bella, you look so... different," Gran said, eyeing me curiously as I stood at the bottom of the staring shirt over a long-sleeved gray tee paired with blue jeans and my favorite old white sneakers. On my right wrist was a leather friendship bracelet Renee made for me a while back.

Gran wasn't into my laid-back style; she wanted me to show off my feminine side and make the most of my name.

"Do I look bad?" I asked, a bit unsure.

"Nope, you look gorgeous," she replied with a smile.

"Thanks!"

"Let me get the keys—"

"It's close; I can walk," I interrupted, wanting to take charge.

"Are you sure?"

"Yep, I'm good."

I grabbed a shiny apple and tossed my green Jansport backpack over my shoulder, but I almost tripped as I headed for the door.

"Bella, be careful," Gran warned, her face showing concern.

"I've got it; I'll be careful!" I promised, straightening up and ready to face the day.

The first few hours of school felt like a chaotic whirlwind—stressful and laden with anxiety—as I navigated through the crowded hallways. Despite my nerves, Matt had kept his promise to be there for me. My thoughts drifted to Vicky and what could have happened to her.

As I walked through the sea of unfamiliar faces, every person I encountered would look at me with curiosity and recognition, inevitably asking, "You're Isabella Swan, right?" Their stares felt invasive, like I was a goldfish in a bowl, on display for everyone to gawk at. It was nothing short of a nightmare.

Maybe Gran was right; I should have waited a bit longer.

History class, however, proved to be unexpectedly eventful.

I positioned myself at the door when suddenly a kid barreled past me, nearly knocking me off my feet, just as the bell rang, echoing through the halls.

"You're late, Gilbert!" the teacher called out, striding toward me with an air of authority as he helped me gather my scattered belongings. He turned his gaze to me, his expression shifting to curiosity. "Are you Izzy Swan?"

Izzy is such a different name from what I was used to.

"Uh, it's Bella," I replied, a hint of uncertainty in my voice.

"Welcome to History. I'm Mr. Tanner, and I do not tolerate tardiness in my classroom," he stated firmly.

Mr. Tanner was an average-looking man, but he possessed a confident presence. His curly dark hair framed his face, and his brown eyes sparkled with sharp intelligence. He was athletic and tall, satisfied in his plain black blazer, crisp white shirt, and dark pants.

"I'm sorry," I managed to say, hoping he would understand my predicament.

"First-day pass, Bella," he replied, his tone slightly softening.

Straightening my posture, he pointed to an empty desk in the back. "Take the open desk behind the jackass," he instructed. He picked up on my discomfort and added, "Sit behind Jeremy Gilbert."

I gathered my things and reached the desk behind Jeremy Gilbert. His tall frame towered over me, allowing me to hide in his shadow; at least the kids in front of us wouldn't be able to see me so quickly.

However, the other students continued to gawk at me, their stares lingering uncomfortably until Mr. Tanner finally intervened. "If all of you focused your attention on your work the way you do on Bella Swan, you ought to be able to pass this pop quiz," he remarked, his voice slicing through the tension.

A collective groan rose from the class as he began distributing quizzes. Jeremy Gilbert turned his attention to me, eyes wide with curiosity. He drifted between glancing at me and the quiz in front of him for what felt like an eternity before finally speaking.

"You're Isabella Swan?" he asked as if trying to reconcile my presence with the expectations set by others.

"Bella," I corrected him, the tension easing slightly.

"I'm Elena's brother," he added a hint of intrigue in his tone.

"I figured," I said, trying to mask my nervousness with casualness. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, the way my sister's diary described you, I was expecting a freak, but you—"

Before he could finish, Mr. Tanner interjected, "Mr. Gilbert, stop flirting with Miss Swan."

Laughter erupted from the surrounding students as Jeremy muttered something under his breath, irritation flashing across his face.

I glanced around the room, suddenly realizing, "Uh, I didn't receive a test."

"You didn't have the benefit of growing up in Mystic Falls," Mr. Tanner replied, handing me a thick book titled *The History of Mystic Falls*. "Read this entire book and be prepared to take a quiz."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Tanner," I said, feeling gratitude and dread.

As I sat down and began to leaf through the pages, I noticed that while Jeremy or another brave soul might muster the courage to engage me in conversation, Mr. Tanner's piercing gaze seemed to fixate on me as if he were frustrated about something.

He seemed pleased to tease the more audacious students, perhaps feeling annoyed that he couldn't reasonably target me just yet.

Lunch was filled with nervous energy and uncertainty.

I clutched an apple—a bright, glossy red orb—and balanced a chilled bottle of lemonade on my tray as I navigated the bustling cafeteria.

The room buzzed with laughter and chatter, but I could only focus on finding an empty table. My eyes landed on Elena, surrounded by her friends, engaged in animated conversation with an attractive guy.

Panic rose in my chest as I realized there were no open tables or familiar faces in sight, so I hesitantly approached them, my heart racing. I considered calling Caroline and Bonnie; maybe they'd feel sorry for me. But just as I took a few steps forward, the guy noticed me, and at that moment, Vicky's voice rang out. "Bella!"

I jumped, startled, and my tray collided with Elena's back. A clatter echoed in the busy room as I spun around and dashed across the floor toward Vicky, seeking refuge behind the tall, dark-haired guy she was with, muttering a hasty apology as I did.

"It's okay, freshman," a chuckling voice reassured me. "The new guy saved your ass."

"Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes got what she deserved after breaking my brother's heart," Vicky shot back .

"Come on, Vick," another voice chimed in.

I peeked out from behind my makeshift shield, assessing the scene. Vicky and Matt were seated beside the newcomer.

He and Matt were clad in Mystic Falls Timberwolves letter jackets, a blend of school spirit and casual style: Matt wore a red shirt and blue jeans, while the other guy contrasted sharply in a sleek black ensemble.

His skin was sun-kissed, his short dark hair slightly tousled, and his deep brown eyes held a certain intensity. He bore a resemblance to my friend Jacob Black, which was familiar and unsettling.

"Hi, you're—"

"Bella." I offered my name as I slid onto the bench next to Matt.

"I'm Tyler. Tyler Lockwood," he introduced himself with a casual grin.

"Nice to meet you." We shook hands firmly. "So, how angry does Elena look?"

"She's too busy drooling over Stefan Salvatore to notice," he replied a hint of amusement in his tone.

I turned to steal a glance at Elena, and Tyler was right; she and Stefan were locked in an almost magnetic gaze, utterly absorbed in each other. I looked at Matt, noticing the grimace that crossed his face as he watched Stefan.

"Who is he?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

"Who is who?" Vicky challenged, her arms crossed playfully.

"Him, the guy with Elena—Stefan?"

"Stefan Salvatore?" Vicky confirmed, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, who is he?"

"He just moved here," she said with a shrug as if it were the most unremarkable thing ever.

"What are you wearing?" Tyler suddenly inquired, directing the attention toward me. I sensed he attempted to distract Matt from his apparent fixation on Elena.

"I like what I'm wearing," I replied defensively.

"Easy there, Freshman," Tyler raised his hands in mock surrender, smirking.

"Bella used to live here," Vicky chimed in, her foot playfully nudging mine under the table, which alerted me to pay attention. "Her parents left when she was four."

"Why?" Tyler asked, genuinely intrigued.

I shrugged, the weight of the memory hanging heavy in the air. "Mystic Falls is too dangerous."

"Too dangerous?" Tyler scoffed, an eyebrow raised. "The only thing dangerous around here is boredom."

Boredom, I mused, tapping my apple thoughtfully against my tray.

True, Mystic Falls had an air of monotony, yet the adults—Charlie and Renee—always warned me about its dangers.

There's something deeper at play here; I sensed I was missing crucial pieces of a larger puzzle.

What am I missing?

"The only danger I can think of is those two people getting attacked by wild animals last night," Matt suggested. "That and...?"

"And what?" I urged, eager for more details.

"The bridge accident."

"Bridge accident?" I repeated, confusion lining my voice.

"Four months ago, during a storm, Elena and her parents were in a car crash. They went off Wickery Bridge; they didn't survive," he explained, his tone turning somber.

A familiar pang throbbed ,in my chest as I glanced at Elena. Memories flickered—a fleeting moment of her vibrant laughter, bright and cheerful.

"I didn't know," I admitted, my gaze drifting away from her, unwilling to linger on the sadness. "Wait a minute." I turned to Matt, curiosity igniting again. "Didn't you say Elena was in the car, too? How did she manage to escape?"

"She doesn't know," he said quietly. "She just got out."

"I was saved," I mumbled to myself. "Maybe she was, too."

"Who could have saved her?" Matt questioned, his brow furrowing.

For some inexplicable reason, I glanced at Stefan Salvatore, who remained focused on Elena. But a strange feeling crept over me as if he were observing me from the corner of his eye.

The hair on the back of my neck bristled; something inside me whispered that Stefan Salvatore was hiding something— something that suggested he was not as new to Mystic Falls as he wanted everyone to believe.

I had forgotten to select an elective class, and as I perused the list of options, I found that every course was fully booked except for art and gym.

Naturally, I opted for art.

As I entered the bustling classroom, a familiar voice called, "Yo, Isabella."

I sighed, slightly exasperated, and turned to face the source of the interruption.

Standing before me was Jeremy Gilbert, a striking boy with a tall, athletic build of around 6 feet. His dark hair hung slightly over his forehead, and his deep, dark eyes seemed to hold a world of mystery. He wore a casual dark hoodie that perfectly contrasted with the worn denim jeans and sneakers that completed his laid-back look.

"You have this class, too?" he asked, surprise evident in his tone.

"It was either this or gym," I replied, pulling out my supplies and taking a seat in front of him, feeling the attentive gaze of my classmates on me.

"Why did your parents move here?" he probed, his curiosity piqued.

I hesitated briefly before responding, "My parents are dead."

"Oh," he said, the lightness of the conversation suddenly darkening.

An awkward silence settled between us as we both focused on our tasks, the ticking clock marking the passage of time.

After half an hour of silence, he broke it with another question, "Who do you live with?"

"My grandmother," I answered, glancing up to gauge his reaction.

"Why did she come here?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. "We used to live here," I said.

"Why did you leave?" he continued, seeming genuinely interested.

"I was four when we left," I replied.

Jeremy leaned back slightly, his expression contemplative. "My sister doesn't like you."

"I figured," I said, a faint smile creeping onto my lips. "How do you know she doesn't like me?"

"I read her diary," he confessed nonchalantly.

I frowned, "You shouldn't do that."

He shrugged a hint of mischief in his eyes and returned to his work, leaving me to ponder my earlier conversation with Matt.

Wouldn't it be incredible if Stefan Salvatore had saved Elena Gilbert from certain death?

It was a bizarre thought to entertain about two strangers, but somehow she had survived and remained blissfully unaware of how close she had come to tragedy.

I, too, had been saved by a group of bystanders—perhaps Stefan Salvatore had been the one to save Elena.

But why would he choose to hide that?