My mother rode with me to the airport, her new husband Phil driving. We had the windows down, so my crazy dog, Mindy, could enjoy the warm breeze one more time. Mindy is a mostly brown, with some black around her face and a white chest, lab/pit bull mix. Everywhere I take her, she turns heads with her happy tail wags and soft brown eyes. In the back of the SUV, growling very unhappily, is my cat Chip. He is a bit of a fatty, with long orange fur. He is usually very affectionate, for a cat. But, being cooped up in the crate has left him a bit grumpy.

The weather on my last day in Phoenix is beautiful, which I'm grateful and a little sad about. It is a cloudless day with a gorgeous blue sky and a comfortable 78°. I'm sad about it because I know it'll be a while before I get to enjoy this kind of weather again. My mother, ever the chatter-box, is filling the silence in the car with any topic she can think of. Right now, it is the latest episode of some reality show she is into now. I, however, would rather be listening to music. Since it is the last I will see of my mother for a while, though, I have opted to keep the headphones in my carry on bag and indulge her by acting interested in the latest drama.

I take the time to memorize her, since I don't know how long it will be before I see her again. She has dark red hair, which she keeps dyed (can't let the grey show how old she actually is) and cut to just barely shoulder length. She has laugh lines around her eyes, which are a light brown color. In the passenger seat of the SUV we are in, she looks even smaller than she is. She stands at a whopping five feet two inches tall, and has an average frame. She is somewhat lean, thanks to the constant hikes she takes, which she forces me into as well, and the various hobbies she keeps.

Her many hobbies have included Yoga, Taekwondo, and spin classes. Mom doesn't attend these classes for the health benefits, but more to gossip with the other ladies in the classes. My mother is ever the social butterfly, which I did not inherit from her. I take more after my dad, and tend to keep to myself more than anything. Sure, I won't actively avoid conversations if I'm around people, but I also don't seek them out.

It was in one of moms Yoga classes that she met Phil, whom she has been married to for six months now. Well, more on the way out of Yoga class. Phil was participating in a Mixed Martial Arts class, apparently to help keep him in shape while he works on his baseball career. Mom surely lucked out with Phil, who is tall (a staggering six feet, five inches tall), dark, and handsome. He is also five years younger than mom. He hails from Meridian, Mississippi, which he once told me that, despite it's more big city-like status, still held some racist and hateful people. He told me about a time that he was with his family, just getting gas at a local station, when a group of white men threatened to hang his family if they didn't leave from their property.

"Wow, that actually still happens down there?" I had said when he told me.

"Not just in the south. I still experience some prejudices no matter where I am." He told me rather calmly, considering. "Racism isn't restricted to the south. I never experienced any threats like I did that day, but I still get comments sometimes. Just the other day I heard an older white woman telling a store clerk at Dick's "that black man over there gave me a dirty look, I think he might be stealing". I never gave her a look. I actually smiled at her and said excuse me when I walked by her. She started to smile back at first, until she saw me and the color of my skin."

That was the deepest conversation we had. He kept it pretty light after that, which I am thankful for. I don't like thinking about the hate that still exists in the world. I actively avoid the news because of it. It makes me sick when something does come up in my news feed on Facebook or when I overhear a conversation about something that has happened. I've seen more than I like of what is going on in the world (mass shootings, hate crimes, and too many horrible things involving children or animals). I shake my head, putting the thoughts out of my mind as we pull up to the drop off lane at the airport.

While Phil grabs my bags from the trunk, I corral Mindy into her travel crate. She is too big to sit with me in the cabin, so she has to go into the cargo hold. Neither of us are happy about it, but I can't move away without her or Chip. Chip is small enough that he can sit under the seat in the cabin with me, which I think Mindy senses, as she is looking at him with an almost jealous look in her eye.

I stand up and see my mom looking at me on the verge of tears. I told myself I wouldn't cry, as I didn't want to make this any harder on either of us than I needed to. But, seeing her like this, and knowing I wouldn't be there to experience first hand the shenanigans my erratic, hare-brained mother will no doubt get into, is too much for me to bear. I fall into her arms, and allow a few tears to fall.

Renee, my mother, and I have only ever been apart when I used to spend the an entire month every summer with my father, Charlie, in Forks, Washington. Well, I did until I was fourteen. By that time, I finally put my foot down and demanded I not go back there. After that, Charlie would just take two weeks from work and we would vacation somewhere. That year it was California, when I was fifteen it was Florida, and then New Orleans last year, which was a shock.

My mother had apparently let Charlie know I love history and music, so they conspired and decided I would enjoy seeing some of the historic sites in the French Quarter. And they were not wrong, because I actually had a blast on that trip, despite Charlie's obvious discomfort at being way from his flat screen and sports. Why didn't I want to go back to Forks, you may ask? Well, for one thing, it is cold and wet. Even during the summer, while the weather was warmer and more sunny, it still is the wettest and most dreary place in the continental US. And I hate anything cold and wet, save for Mindy's and Chip's noses. And it is here that I've banished myself.

"You know you don't have to go? I know how much you hate Forks." Mom whispers to me as she pulls me into a tight hug.

"I know I don't have to, but I WANT to. And I don't hate Forks." I try to say with conviction, but mom knows me too well.

"Liar... You know if you want to come back, you just call me up and I will bring you back in a heartbeat." She says, holding back a sob.

I know she means it, that she can't stand to be apart from me, and I honestly can't stand to be apart from her either, but I know this is what is best. Phil is a minor league baseball player, without a team at the moment. He want's to go out on the road and try out for some Triple A division teams, and I know my mother would love to go with him, as much as she denies it. She is too antsy, bubbly, and just downright energetic to continue being a homebody as she has been forced to do for my entire life. She want's to travel, and this will be the perfect opportunity to start.

So, I made the decision to move to Forks with my father so that she could enjoy traveling with Phil. The only condition I had was that Mindy and Chip come with me, which Charlie begrudgingly obliged. I have had both of them since they were five weeks old, and could not imagine not having them with me. They were there for me through my first break up, first broken bone, and everything in between. No way was I going to let them go.

"I know mom. Seriously, I'm fine. I love you." I try to sound reassuring for her, but don't quite get the tone right.

So, after the longest embrace ever, we finally let go. I lift my carry on, containing my newly bought parka (I haven't needed one in Phoenix, but it is nearly always raining in Forks, so I decided to be prepared). As I lift the bag to my shoulder, the sleeve of my hoodie (which I put on just to avoid having to add it to my carry on for when I arrived in the colder weather) slid down a bit. I hoped my mother wouldn't see my wrist, but a quick glance in her direction and the look on her face tells me she didn't miss it. Shit. However, she doesn't scold me, but gives me a slight smirk.

The night before, I decided to continue my recent rebellious streak I've been in since deciding to make the move to Forks a month ago. One of my closer friends from North High in Phoenix, Jeana, is an artist. She's recently taken up tattooing, so I willingly decided to be her human practice canvas. I didn't want to let her do what she wanted, scared for what her crazy mind would come up with, so I made sure to get something with meaning to me. I decided on a subtle starfish on my right wrist, as a homage to my mom.

When I was about eight, my mother took me to the aquarium and I absolutely loved it. My mother, being as scatterbrained as she is, couldn't stay looking at one exhibit for more than thirty seconds. That is, until we got to the starfish. For some reason, she loved them. She found them absolutely fascinating. That they can regenerate their legs, they don't have blood or brains, but still somehow manage to move with their little tube feet. We stayed looking at and talking about starfish that day for minutes before I got bored, shockingly before mom, and moved on. I think when she saw that my first tattoo (or at least, what she thinks is my first tattoo) is a starfish, she decided not to scold me. Instead, it brought fresh tears to her eyes.

Phil carried Mindy in her crate to the curbside check in and got me my boarding pass. Phil grabs me around my waist and lifts me into the air, squeezing tightly, but not quite tight enough to keep me from breathing. I grab him around the neck and hug him back, though not quite managing to do so as strongly, and give him a peck on his smooth cheek (he shaves daily, something about wanting to keep looking young while he can to fool the scouts). He sets me down and I can see his eyes are welling up. Despite his size, Phil is actually a big softy and has no problem with anyone knowing it.

I give him a slight smile and turn my attention back to my mom. She gives me one more tear-filled embrace, tells me to tell Charlie hi for her, and they head back to their car. They are getting some angry honks, since this was just a drop off and you aren't supposed to park there for more than two minutes. It's been ten minutes, so even the local police are making their way over. They hop in the car quickly and pull into the traffic, my mom leaning out the window and waving until they turn the corner.

With Chip in his crate in one hand, my boarding pass in my other, and my carry on bag hanging across front, I head inside and to the security line. After an hour spent in security, fifteen minutes of which was not in line, but in a special room where I had to take Chip out for a moment so they could swab the inside of his crate for, what I guess to be, explosives or something. That only took a second, but Chip did not want back in the crate. After fifteen minutes of fighting with him, which left me looking like I just stumbled through thorn bushes, I got him back in. I make my way to the gate with Chip, just making it on time for them to start boarding coach, having been slightly late due to stopping in the bathroom to clean up my arms and neck, which were still sore from Chip's clawing.

Ignoring the looks from other passengers, who are no doubt staring because of Chips growling, I hand off my boarding pass to the flight attendant and board the plane. I make it to my seat, which is thankfully a window seat (I get bad motion sickness on planes, so I really want to sleep, and being seated by the window saves me from having to get up for my neighbors). I tuck Chip in under the seat in front of me, pop a couple Dramamine in my mouth, flushing it down with a bottled water I grabbed on the way in, and put in my headphones I took out of my carry on bag before I put it in the overhead bin. I hit play and let Midnight Fix by Asteria lull me to sleep.

The flight from Phoenix to Seattle is three hours, so I get a decent nap in. Charlie was going to get a charter flight for Seattle to Port Angeles, but I begged him not to. It is bad enough having to endure the three hours on a commercial flight myself, but I didn't want to put Mindy through another flight in a cargo hold too. So, after grabbing Chip and my carry on, I exit the plane and head to baggage claim.

On the way, I take my phone off of Airplane mode and send a quick text to Charlie to let him know I've landed and am heading to the baggage claim. I look at the TV hanging in front of the baggage carousels, see my flight is at number four, pay the five dollars for a baggage cart, and head to the customer service desk to collect Mindy. After handing over the claim tag Phil gave me when he checked me in, the woman behind the counter slides Mindy's crate out from an adjacent room towards me. Mindy sees me and starts whimpering and hopping around in her crate, which makes me sad because I can't let her out yet. I tell her to settle, which she does, and then unsuccessfully try to put her crate on the cart.

Thankfully, the man in line behind me takes pity and helps me lift her onto the cart, which I thank him for profusely. He tells me not to worry about it, and heads up to the counter without another glance. I head to carousel four, grab my bag (which is surprisingly one of the first down the conveyor), and wait outside. Charlie pulls up five minutes later, and I groan. Charlie is Police Chief Swan of the Forks Police Department, so of course he picks me up in his police cruiser. Another part of school I am not looking forward to, because I'm sure being the Chiefs daughter is going to be a cause for some light teasing.

He gives me an awkward one-armed hug, a scratchy kiss to the temple (which is due to his thick mustache), and a quick "Good to see you Bells". After the pleasantries, I open the door to Mindy's crate, grab her collar, and get her into the back of the cruiser. I give her the wait command and grab Chip's crate from the ground behind me, put him in next to her, and close the door. I only have the one bag, since the majority of my Phoenix wardrobe is inappropriate for the gloomy weather here, so Charlie got that and Mindy's crate in the truck and made his way to the drivers side of the car at the same time I get into the passenger side.

I put on my seat belt and slump into the passenger seat, feeling like a fugitive, trying to ignore the looks people are no doubt giving me. Charlie puts on his seat belt and we take off, trying not to hold up the line leaving the airport, for the longest and most awkward three and a half hour drive from Seattle to Forks. After Charlie gets us onto I-5 South, he decides to play a little catch-up.

"So, how's your mom doing?" He asks.

"She's good. She and Phil decided to keep the house in Phoenix, just in case. They've bought an RV and are heading east, so Phil can try out for some of the teams along the way. I think they said they are gonna make a try for the Albuquerque Isotopes first. If that doesn't work, they'll make a left turn and head to the Oklahoma City Dodgers and continue heading East til they make it to Jacksonville. That's the last team along the south, Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp. I'm sure Bubba Gump is the sponsor for that one. She says hi, by the way."

He snorts at my lame Albuquerque and Forrest Gump jokes, but otherwise doesn't comment on their plans. "I know how much your mom always wanted to travel. Glad she gets to now... You looking forward to school tomorrow?"

"Not really. I hope we can find a cheap car soon. I'd really hate to have you to go out of your way to take me to school every day. I have a bit of money I saved up from babysitting, so you won't have to put much up for it." I tried to make it sound like I don't want to inconvenience him, but really, I just don't want the other students to see me rolling up in a police car. I am already sure I'm going to be a cause for some unwanted stares, as I'm sure Forks High doesn't get many new students, being such a small town and all.

"Well, you don't have to worry about that, actually." He says sheepishly, his neck and ears getting a little red.

"What do you mean?" I ask suspiciously, my eyebrows furrowing a bit.

"I kind of already bought a cheap car that will be perfect for you. Well, it's not a car. It's actually a truck... A Chevy." He sputters out quickly, obviously anxious to get this over with.

"Continue..." I don't like how he says perfect for you, but don't dwell on that part yet.

"You remember Billy Black? We used to go fishing with him and his boy Jacob on the reservation." Charlie is just as bad at conversation as I am, which is becoming more abundantly clear the more the talk goes on.

"Not really, I try to block out bad memories. All I remember of fishing with you guys is getting the hook, with nasty worm guts on it, stuck in my finger. Along with falling on the rocks, spraining my wrists and ankle." I flinch at the once blocked memory.

He grimaces, obviously forgetting that part of our fishing expeditions, but otherwise ignores the comment. "Well, Billy is in a wheelchair now, so he can't drive his truck anymore. It's a good truck for you, I think. Nice and sturdy."

"What year is it?"

Apparently, he was hoping I wouldn't ask that question. "I think he bought it in 1984..." He still won't look in my direction, and I notice how he said he bought it in 1984.

"When you say he bought it in 1984, do you mean he bought it new?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"No... I think it was new in the 60s... Maybe 50s." Yep, I knew it.

"Ch-dad! I don't know anything about cars, let alone can afford a mechanic if something happens when I'm driving down the road and break down. Especially if I have the buy the thing on top of that!" I almost slipped and called him by his name, which he doesn't like. It doesn't help that I only really know him as Charlie, as that is what mom calls him whenever he came up in conversation.

"Bella, Billy and Jacob fixed it up. They rebuilt the engine and everything. It's like new! And if anything should happen, I'm sure they'd be more than willing to fix it for a discount. Besides, I kind of already bought it from them. Sort of a welcome home gift... I just want to make sure you're happy here, Bella." If he was red before, it's nothing compared to now. His whole face is flushed with embarrassment now. He is just as bad at expressing feelings as I am, so his wish to make me happy takes some of the bite out of my arguing.

I think this over, and figure I shouldn't look a gift truck in the mouth. It really is sweet how hard Charlie is trying to make me happy, and makes my heart swell up a little."I suppose. Thanks... Dad. I really appreciate it." I had to pause cause I almost called him Charlie again.

"No problem." He replies gruffly.

We continued in silence after that. Unlike my mother, Charlie doesn't feel the need to fill the silence, which I'm grateful for. Mostly because I inherited my love of silence from him. He doesn't get upset when I put in my headphones, hitting play on Downhearted Blues by Bessie Smith, and listen to music the rest of the way home. I have always loved music, anything from the oldies to the most recent hits.

I don't know what got me into listening to music so much, but I think it has developed into a coping mechanism for me, whenever I have had to deal with anything remotely hard. It's a great escape from reality. This move... this move is definitely a hard thing to deal with. A most definite reality I don't want to be in. Mindy must have sensed my growing anxiety from thinking of what I'm getting myself into, because I suddenly got a gentle lick to the right side of my face. I grin, reaching behind the seat to give her a belly rub. She must feel her mission is accomplished, because she sticks her head back out the window after that. At least I have her and Chip to keep me sane.

During the whole ride, I see nothing but green as I look out the window. Green trees, green grass, green moss.. Just green everywhere. Now, don't get me wrong, green is my favorite color, but seeing so much green after having lived around so much reds and browns, it's a little daunting. The only green in Phoenix are cacti, the fake grass people put in their yards, and the occasional tree someone planted. It is rare to find much green outside of peoples yards or what was planted by the city. I have been on enough hikes out in the wilderness with mom to know this, considering the only trees we found were the ones I somehow managed to smack right into.

Finally, after what feels like eternity, we make it to Charlies house. It's getting dark, but there is enough sunlight to get a good look at it. I haven't seen this house since I was thirteen, and in these four years, nothing seems to have changed. The house is a two story Prairie style, built sometime in the 1930s, I'm sure. It was painted a pale blue, back when mom and Charlie were still together. Mom tried to brighten it up a bit, to make up for the weather I'm sure, making it look like a bright blue sky she wanted to see instead of the grey cloud skies that in reality are above us.

The paint is fading and peeling now, making it seem even more depressing than what I'm sure it looked like before. It has two bedrooms, which I can look up and see into the window of his from the front. My bedroom is at the rear of the house, overlooking the unfenced backyard. There is a small shed a dozen or so feet from the back porch, which looks like it is rarely ever used. I can see the top of the oak tree that is by my window, peeking over the top of the house. There is also only one bathroom, which I remember with a shudder. Sharing with Charlie is going to be interesting, to say the least.

Finally, I look into the driveway, steeling myself, and see what must be my new truck. I'm shocked to find though, I don't hate it. Actually, after looking it over some more, I find myself starting to love it. It must have been red at some point, but the paint has faded over the years to a dusty orange color, and you can see some rust spots where the paint peeled away completely.

But, despite that, it's bloated-looking cab, and rounded fenders, I find it has a certain charm to it. It also helps that it looks like one of those trucks that is still standing, gloating over the remnants of some fancy sports car it KO'd in one punch, with no so much as a scratch on it. It certainly is perfect for me, considering my luck and general tendency to hurt myself..

"Hey dad, I gotta give you props on the truck. I actually like it!" I give him a small smile, which he returns, obviously proud of himself.

"No problem, Kid. I'm glad you like it."

Charlie grabs my bag and Mindy's crate out of the trunk while I grab Chips crate and my carry on bag, letting Mindy out in the process. She explores the front yard a bit, but doesn't go more than twenty feet from me. She takes care of her business, then bounds up to the front door, anxious to get inside. Charlie unlocks it and lets her in, and turns to give me the key to my new (well, new to me) truck and house key. I take them, and tuck them into my hoodie pocket.

We step inside and I see that the inside is just as unchanged as the outside, save for the newer 70 inch LED tv in the living room, a cat tree by the window, a new cabinet in another corner (which upon further scrutiny, I see now has a hole in the side and litter box inside of it), a basket of dog and cat toys in the corner, and a dog bed by the couch. Seeing these things, considering how Charlie isn't the biggest fan of having animals in the house, I realize just how much he looks forward to me being with him and how hard he is trying to make sure I feel comfortable being here.

He put surely put some effort into making my animals feel just at home as he has been to make me feel the same way. I'm not usually an affectionate person, but knowing how much effort he put into my homecoming, I can't help but give him a hug. He returns it, and I swear I hear him sniffle. He pulls away, and clears his throat.

"I cleared a few shelves off in the bathroom for you. There's also some clean towels hanging up. I know how being in a plane with a few dozen people can make you feel a little... odious." He smirks at the last word, obviously happy with himself for his choice of words.

"Thanks, dad. I'm gonna play with Chip a bit first, he's been locked up for a while. I'll take a shower after that."

"Alright... Well... I'm gonna, uh, watch the game then. It's March Madness."

And with that, he grabs a beer from the fridge, plops down on the couch, and turns on the TV. It's the Washington Husky's versus the Stanford Cardinal. The second half has already started, and the Husky's are in the lead 29 to 27. He starts almost immediately arguing with the calls being made by the refs on the TV, so I turn my attention to Chip, who I've already let out of his crate and is exploring the new surroundings.

Usually, when cats are in new environments, they tend to get a little aggressive and skittish. Chip isn't most cats though, so when Mindy starts sniffing at him and pawing at him, he just starts playing with her. After a few minutes of watching them play together, mostly because I want to be sure they are okay with the new place, I decide to look around at the living room more.

It isn't a large room. The addition of the cat tree, litter box, and dog bed make it feel a bit cramped now. I look up at the mantle on the fireplace and see that the pictures haven't changed in all the years I've visited Charlie here. It starts with a picture of mom and dad's wedding photo, then to them holding me in the hospital when I was born, and then a succession of my school pictures until last year. I get a slight pang in my chest, realizing how much my mom hurt Charlie and how much he misses her. I shake my head, not willing to let anything else dampen my mood. I have to make the most of this, since I'm gonna be stuck here until college, at least.

I need to get the animals a bowl of water, so head to the kitchen to get that out of the way. Charlie, it seems, foresaw this as well. There is a mat on the floor with a big water dish and a big bowl that must be for Mindy on one side, and a smaller bowl on the other for Chip. They both followed me into the kitchen, and Mindy immediately drinks water from her new bowl. I take a look around, and realize the kitchen is just as unchanged as the rest of the property.

The cabinets are still the bright yellow my mom painted them when she lived here, seventeen years ago. The wood dining table with the mismatched chairs still sits by the window, which overlooks the backyard. I take a quick look in the fridge and cabinets, and realize I need to make an emergency trip to the store after school tomorrow. Charlie certainly hasn't been eating healthy, if the empty fridge (save for some beer and sandwich meat) and only finding a few canned goods in the cabinets are anything to go by.

I go back into the living room and grab the laser pointer from the storage compartment in Chip's crate and start shining it around. Chip goes crazy and starts chasing it. I shake it side to side as fast as I can, and laugh when his head tries to shake in time with it, his arms twitching to catch it. I see out of the corner of my eye that my dad is watching, with a slight smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. Suddenly, I feel slightly better about my decision to move here.

I may not like Forks, not in the slightest, but I do love my dad. Despite our history, I have missed him and know he has missed me too. I find myself looking forward to spending actual time with him, not just a quick visit like usual. While I am playing with Chip, Mindy goes over next to Charlie and rests her head on his knee, looking up at him expectantly. He grunts, but then scratches behind her ears, making her close her eyes, contently. This could work out after all.

Chip is a bit chunky, so it doesn't take much to tire him out. After about ten minutes of playing, he flops over and just looks at me, his chest heaving quickly with his heavy breathing. I grab my bag and head upstairs. Mindy pulls herself away from my dad to follow me up. Chip, no doubt upset that I decided to leave when he was already exhausted, gets up and follows me.

I head into my room and see not much has changed. The bed, which is pushed up against the middle of the left wall, is the same, save for new sheets. Purple, just like the curtains on the window against the wall opposite the door. Maybe I will use the money I saved from having to buy a car to go get new sheets and curtains. I appreciate the thought, Charlie, but I really do hate purple. Maybe I'll see if the Forks Thriftway has any while I'm grocery shopping after school and get something in green or black. If not, I can always order some from Amazon. I have my own debit card, and extra money now that I didn't have to buy a car. Although, the truck probably doesn't get the best gas mileage. Guess I'll figure that out over the next few days.

On the wall opposite the bed is a bookshelf close to the window (still filled with the books I started collecting over the summer's I spent here), a dresser by the closet, and a desk with a new-ish computer on it in the middle. There is a webcam perched on top of the monitor, a stipulation mom had, so we could Skype. She was adamant I keep her updated on all the drama I will no doubt encounter at my new school. She forgets I am a social outcast, so tend to avoid the drama.

But, I will try to indulge her as much as I can with what I will no doubt overhear during my time huddled alone in a corner of the lunch room. To my right is my closet. Smaller than my closet in Phoenix, but that doesn't matter. I'm not much into fashion. I tend to wear the same style of clothes, and really only own enough clothes for about ten outfits.

I place my suitcase onto the bed, open it up, and pull out some clothes to sleep in. Grey sweats, a grey t-shirt, underwear, and some fluffy grey socks with raccoon faces on them that I got at Old Navy this last Christmas time. I get my toiletries bag out of a side pocket, having decided to forgo a bra as well. I figure it will be awkward, not wearing one, since it is just Charlie and me. However, bras are uncomfortable enough as it is, let alone sleeping in one, so I just decide to minimize walking around the house before getting fully dressed in the mornings.

While I put my suitcase by the dresser (I'll put my clothes away tomorrow), having picked my pajamas out, Mindy and Chip curl up on the bed and close their eyes. I walk across the hall into the bathroom, close the door, and turn the water on. While it warms up, I put my pajamas onto the counter, get undressed, then get into the shower. I didn't realize how cold I was until I got into the shower. The scorching water feels soothing on my skin, after a few minutes of dealing with the tingling caused by how cold I was before getting in. I am going to miss the warm sun in Phoenix, and I can tell already that I'm going to make it up to myself by taking scalding hot showers. I wash my hair and body, then just enjoy the hot water until it turns cold.

I turn the water off and then wrap my head in one towel, drying my body off with another. I brush my teeth, putting my toothbrush in the holder by the sink, next to Charlie's, put on some deodorant, then go back to the bedroom. Mindy and Chip haven't moved, so I lay down on the edge of the bed, not wanting to disturb them. I don't own a hair dryer, and don't plan on it, so my head is still wrapped in a towel and it prevents me from leaning my head all the way back against the wall. I grab my phone and unlock it.

I stare at my wallpaper for a moment, a picture of mom and I at Havasupai Falls, one of our many hiking trips. I have only been gone for eight hours, and already I miss her. I open up my messages, which aren't many since I didn't have many friends in Phoenix, and let mom know I made it okay and am at home now. I would have rather called, but I know it's too early, and it will just make me break down. I'm such a mama's girl, ugh.

I open up Facebook, scrolling through, mostly looking at memes, until I start getting a headache from the towel I forgot on my head. I take it off, hang it up in the bathroom, brush my hair, and then head back to bed. I turn off the lights, make Mindy get up so I can get under the covers, and then settle in. Chip, ever the snuggle bug, immediately lays down on my legs.

Mindy, thankfully, has learned she is too big to lay on me like she used to, so settles into my side instead. It's raining hard outside now, big raindrops banging on the window and roof. Most people may find it soothing, but I find it annoying. After several minutes of trying to ignore the sound, I pull the covers over my head, shifting Chip who meows in annoyance, before settling back down on my legs. When that doesn't work, I try to put a pillow over my head, which still doesn't help dampen the noise. Finally, after what must have been hours, the rain dies down to just a light patter on the windows and I finally fall asleep.

The next morning I am woken up at 6:30 to a wet nose breathing out cold air against my cheek and a little paw patting me gently on the nose. Who needs an alarm clock when you have fur babies to wake you? I get up and open the door, which Chip sprints down to get to his litter box. Mindy races me downstairs, not caring that I'm not competing with her, and I open the back door to let her outside, not worried about the fact that the yard isn't fenced in.

Mindy, despite her boundless energy, doesn't tend to wander. While Mindy is outside, I grab a Ziploc bag of dog food from my carry on bag that I left in the living room the night before, and another with cat food from Chip's crate. I empty them into their respective bowls, then let Mindy back in. While they eat, I head back upstairs and try to figure out what to wear.

I look at myself in the mirror that's on the door to my closet, wondering what style would suit me best. I don't think of myself as pretty, but not ugly either. I'm about 5'7" with an average body build. I don't work out or anything, but I am not a couch potato either. Hiking almost every weekend with mom has kept my body in decent shape. My chestnut colored hair is long and thick, falling to about halfway down my back with some natural redish highlights.

I'm pretty pale, maybe even paler than the folks here in Forks, despite spending most of my life in the sun. I'm so pale, I glow in the dark. Seriously, I once was at a bonfire at a group of kids from schools house (I was actually invited, thanks to Jeana) and I pulled my pants leg up to scratch or something and one of the guys commented that my leg was so bright, it was like I was glowing. I shake myself out of the thought, getting back to the task at hand.

Thankfully, my wardrobe is pretty bland, so nothing will make me stick out at the new school. I throw on some jeans, a slightly baggy red t-shirt, a red hoodie, and my red Converse. After the slip-up of my tattoo with mom at the airport, I decided I would need to be more careful about people seeing my tattoo. I managed to find a thick leather bracelet at a shop in the airport on the way to the gate for the connecting flight to Port Angeles.

I take it out of the plastic bag and snap it on my wrist, covering the tattoo perfectly. I grab the backpack Charlie left for me by my desk and grab my keys from the hoodie I wore yesterday that is now on the floor in the corner. I take one last look around my room, making sure I'm not forgetting anything and head back downstairs. I haven't seen Charlie through all this, so I guess he's already headed to work.

Giving Mindy a scratch behind the ears, trying to not notice the sad look she's giving me because she knows I'm about to leave her, and giving Chip a scratch on the chin, I head out the door. There is no cruiser out front, so my assumption that Charlie already headed to work is confirmed. It's raining, of course, and must be about 50° outside, so I rush quickly to the truck, careful not to slip. I unlock it and open the door, which makes a loud screeching noise, almost like it's protesting being used.

I turn the key and am relieved that the truck starts up, albeit with an extremely loud rumbling that I'm sure woke any neighbors that weren't already awake. I turn on the heater, and am scared at first that it doesn't work, as it is only blowing out cold air. After getting out of the neighborhood and onto the main road, it starts to heat up, much to my relief. I don't need to Google Maps directions to the school on my phone, since it is off 101, like everything else. It's only 7:00, and school doesn't start until 8:15, so it is pretty deserted.

Forks is considerably smaller than the school I attended just last week. The school I went to in Phoenix has roughly six parking lots, eight fairly large buildings, eight tennis courts, three baseball fields, a football/soccer field, and batting cages. Forks High school has three small parking lots, one fairly large building and one slightly smaller (probably the gym), what looks to be two soccer fields, but neither have markings (only thing that indicates they may be soccer fields are the soccer goals sitting across from each other), and a decent football field.

I decide to just park in the driveway out front of the main building, since no one is here yet anyway and none of the parking lots have indications of whether they are for students, faculty, or visitors. I head inside and go to the front office. There is an older, slightly overweight woman with red hair sitting at one of the desks behind the counter, which splits the room in half. After hearing the door shut, she looks up and gives me a warm smile.

"Isabella Swan, I presume?" She asks, after looking me over for a brief moment.

Great, this really is a small town. If this lady knows who I am, I'm sure there must already be rumors of me spreading through the student population.

"Just Bella, please." I correct her gently.

"Oh, I'm sorry Bella! Well then, just a moment, I have your schedule here somewhere." She says as she starts looking around her desk.

After a moment she lets out an "ah ha!" and pulls at a paper near the bottom of a precariously stacked set of papers. I get tense, fearing I may need to jump the counter to catch the stack should it fall. However, she manages to get my schedule out without toppling it, thank God, because I already know I would have walked away with a nasty bruise, no doubt landing ON the counter rather than launching it.

I'm not exactly the most athletically gifted person, after all. Well, I am when it comes to some sports. Not hurdling though. While I breathe a sigh of relief that she didn't knock her files over, which must have come from years of practice with playing Jenga or something, she grabs another paper from a wall file behind her, then saunters back over to me.

"Here you are, dear. Here is your schedule and a map of the school. Oh, almost forgot!" She grabs another paper from the wall file below the first. "You have to have your teachers sign this for each class and bring it back before you leave for the day. Any questions?"

"Um, do I get a locker here?" I ask hesitantly. Do they have lockers in such a small school?

"Oh goodness, of course!" She goes back to her desk and pulls out a binder and writes something into a line on it. I'm guessing my name next to a locker number. She grabs a sticky note and writes some numbers on it, then hands it to me. "There you are, that should be near your first class of the day, on the second floor. Anything else, sweetie?"

"No, thank you ma'am. I'll see you later!" I give her a small smile, take the papers, and head back out to my truck.

Thankfully, the map shows which parking lot is for students, not that it matters now, since people are starting to show up. I start the truck and head to the lot in front of me. I park and quickly turn off the loud engine. It seems not many other students have nice cars, unlike back in Phoenix. The only exception is a silver car in a parking spot near the back of the lot. Getting a closer look, I see it's a Volvo (I don't know cars, I only know the make thanks to bus rides back in Phoenix and preoccupying myself by learning how to recognize car logos).

Despite the fact that my truck isn't the worst vehicle in the lot, I don't want to draw any attention to myself with it's loud rumbling. It's so loud, I'm sure my mom can hear from whatever state she's in down south. I turn off the engine and look over the map, trying to memorize where my classes are so I'm not walking around with it stuck to my face all day. I have the standard classes: AP English Literature and Composition for 1st period, Pre-Calculus for 2nd, AP US History for 3rd (yay!), lunch for half an hour, Physics for 4th, Drama for 5th, and then PE to round out the day (boo!).

English is in room 204, which is in the left part of the main building, according to the map, on the second floor. I get out the truck, lift my hood to hide myself as much as possible, and head off to the entrance. I manage to get to the room without anyone looking my way, miraculously. Only the teacher, Mr. Mason, is in the room right now. He is kind of young, maybe in his 30s, with short brown hair that is already balding, and a thin build.

He's wearing a tweed suit with elbow patches, thick rimmed glasses, and brown oxfords. Definitely an English nerd, but I won't hold it against him. English isn't my favorite subject, but I'm obviously not bad at it, since I'm in the AP course. It is my best subject next to History, which I also managed to get into an AP course for. My worst and most hated subject is reserved for Math, followed very closely by PE.

I get Mr. Mason to sign my slip, he gives me the reading list and stack of books I will need for the semester, and directs me to a seat in the back, thank goodness. This usually means I won't have to introduce myself to the class, which I am grateful for. Public speaking is one of my greatest fears, along with heights (or more specifically, falling from a height, to my death). I look at the reading list, shoving the books into the bag without looking.

The reading list isn't surprising, and I'm glad to say I've already read most of the books: Wuthering Heights, The Great Gatsby, The Invisible Man, Crime and Punishment, and King Lear just to name a few. I already read all of them in Phoenix. I make a mental note to message mom to send me my notes and essays I left in my room. Most parents would consider this cheating, saying I should do the work. My mom isn't like that though. She'd say I already did the work, obviously, so why should I have to do it again?

Not long after I take my seat, other students start to pile in. I try to keep my head down, but it's no good. I already managed to get the attention of a gangling looking boy with black, gelled hair and a pimple scarred face. He kind of looks like he could be lumped in with the fringe group or nerds. I'm leaning more to the nerds side of things, from the way he is slouched forward and the fact that no one else seems to notice or talk to him. He makes his way over to me and extends his hand in greeting.

"You're Isabella Swan, right?" He asks politely.

"Just Bella, please." I say, grasping his hand and shaking it slightly. I would rather go the rest of my time here being invisible, but I also don't want to come across as the bitchy new girl, either.

"Bella, I'm Eric." He takes the seat next to me, and I manage (barely) to suppress a groan. I really want to go the next year and a half in silence and peace.

"Nice to meet you, Eric." I manage to say in the most kind way possible. Which is hard, considering I don't even want to be talking to anyone right now.

"This is a bit different from Phoenix, huh?"

"Meh, only a lot."

"It doesn't rain there much, does it? Not compared to here, I'm sure."

"Only about three or four times a year."

"Wow, I wonder what that must be like?" He stares off for a minute, no doubt drifting off to images of sun and sand.

"Well, there is no humidity, which means no rusty cars." He jerked a bit when I answered, probably forgetting he was talking to someone when he drifted off to la-la-land. "It's either hot as hell or the perfect temperature. There really isn't an in between. It also feels like it is just one big mass of strip malls with some houses scattered in between." I finish, surprised at how much I've been talking considering I didn't want to to begin with.

"Yeah, that is definitely different to here. We don't even have a Wal-Mart, let alone a mall...Well, I hope you enjoy it here all the same. We don't get many new students here, so it was exciting when word spread that the Chiefs daughter was moving in." His smile falters a bit when I groan at that last part. He quickly changes tactics, no doubt trying to not lose me as a potential new friend. "So, what class do you have next?"

"Um..." I glance at my schedule, already having forgotten it. "Pre-Calculus with Mr. Varner."

"Oh, that's on the way to my next class. I can show you where it is, if you like?" He offers, with a hopeful edge to his voice.

"Um, sure, that would be helpful." At least I won't have to look at the map again. I've already forgotten it, I realize.

"Awesome! We should-" He starts, but is interrupted by the bell and Mr. Mason starting roll call.

I was right about not getting called out and forced to introduce myself, since Mr. Mason put me in the back of the class. Still, being at the back of class should have kept me from being gawked at, but the other students still managed it somehow. Class drones on, with me taking some notes and Mr. Mason surprising everyone with a pop quiz.

He was going to let me skip it, since I just started, but I tell him I can do it. I've already read the book anyway, much to my relief. We were actually ahead in Phoenix, so I don't have any problems answering the questions on the quiz about Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. I finish it before everyone else and zone out for the rest of class. The bell startles me out of my daydream, and I get up and let Eric lead me to my next class in room 112, downstairs.

Mr. Varner signs my slip and gives me my textbook. As I start heading to a seat, he stops me and tells me to wait up front. To my horror, he makes me introduce myself to the class, which I stumble through, turning beet red before going even paler than I was before. Public speaking, I told you, is a fear of mine. I manage to not pass out or throw up, and run to the open seat in the back of the room after fully embarrassing myself.

A shorter girl with brown, curly hair looks back at me snickering. This makes me turn redder, if that's possible. I spend the rest of the class imagining Mr. Varner going through as many torturous scenarios as I can think up, not really paying attention to the lessons. I feel like it isn't math I hate so much as the teachers that instruct it.

After the bell rings, I gather my things and head up front to leave. A boy who had to have been waiting for me, falls in step next to me. He's good looking, I guess. He is about 5'10", not really an athletic build, but not skinny either. He has dirty blonde hair and blue eyes set on a baby face. If I was a normal teenage girl, I might have been smitten with him. The fact that I just used the word smitten though, shows that I'm not a normal teenage girl.

"That was so lame of Mr. Varner. It's bad enough he tortures us daily with fucking math, but to make you stand in front of the class and introduce yourself is just hateful. I'm Mike Newton, by the way. You're Isabella Swan, right?" He doesn't extend his hand like Eric did, which I'm grateful for. I'm not much for physical contact.

"Just Bella." I can tell correcting everyone is going to wear on my nerves, but I reign in my frustration. Mostly due to being grateful that he felt my pain with having to endure the torture of standing in front of a couple dozen students and tell them what I'm sure they already know about me, since news seems to have traveled over the whole town about my arrival, let alone the school.

"So, where are you heading to next?" He must have sensed my annoyance, because he didn't ask me what I think of the town and weather like everyone else seems to want to do.

"AP US History with Mr. Jefferson." I managed to remember my schedule this time, so didn't have to pull it out.

"Oh, nice! You must be pretty smart, being in an AP History class?" I laugh a little at that. He doesn't realize I'm in an AP history class, not because I'm smart, but because I actually love history. Not many kids do, so I can't blame him.

"Not really. I actually just love history." I say with a grin stretching across my face.

"Oh, really? What do you love about it?" I can tell he is just trying to be friendly, but I answer anyway. I'm starting to realize that I won't be able to get through the rest of my high school education being anti-social, so might as well give in now.

"I don't really know. I guess, history tells the ultimate story, with the most interesting characters. You have the most charitable and good people, mixed in with the most violent and evil. I think it makes it easier to understand people. People are the way they are because of their past. History tells us the story of humanities past, so gives us a better understanding of people as a whole." I feel like I'm being a bit too deep at this point, and he looks kind of lost, so I throw in a stupid history fact I've learned from reading history books on my own.

"Plus, you learn to watch what you say, so you don't go down in History books sounding like an idiot. Did you know Marie Antoinette's final words before being beheaded were excuse me sir, I didn't mean it a purpose. She stepped on the executioners foot on the way up to the guillotine. How embarrassing is that?"

He snorts at that, obviously glad I moved on from the more confusing start of my answer. "Yeah, maybe I should get to work writing some quote-worthy last words for when I'm on my death bed." He says, staring off a bit, probably trying to think of some witty last words to tell me.

"It can't hurt. Personally, I'm planning on just quoting Tallulah Bankhead: My father warned me about men and booze, but he never said anything about women and cocaine." I say, laughing internally at one of my favorite quotes.

He gives me a blank stare, and I can tell he doesn't even know who Tallulah is, let alone how brilliant she was. Either that, or he is focused on the women and cocaine part. I sigh, not bothering to put his mind at ease. We are at the door to my next class anyway.

"Well, thanks for walking me. See you around!" I wave and head inside.

Mr. Jefferson signs my paper the moment I walk in, hands me my textbook, and let's me find my seat. So far, only Mr. Varner was cruel enough to make me stand in front of the class. He is definitely going on my shit-list. The back seats are taken this time, so I make my way to the open seat against the far wall, next to a fairly tall girl with dark hair that comes down just past her shoulders and horn rimmed glasses.

She gives me a shy smile, but doesn't bother talking to me. I can tell she and I are going to get along. This is perhaps the only class that gets my full attention. I listen raptly as Mr. Jefferson talks about the Mexican-American war of 1846-1848. More specifically, the Bear Flag Revolt.

The bell rings, making me jerk a little out of my seat. I was so engrossed in reading the textbook (Mr. Jefferson's monotone voice lost me in the first five minutes of class, so I just read ahead myself. He was just reading the text word for word anyway). I put my book away, realizing I need to stop at my locker before I go to lunch. I lift my bag with both hands, scared it's going to burst at the seams. It's so crammed full of books, which are mostly the books on the reading list for English, I can see the stitching straining to hold together. I'm grateful History is upstairs, in room 220, so not far from English and my locker. I find it, halfway down the hall and (of course) it's the bottom locker. I crouch down and put the combination into the lock. I get it open, deposit my books, then head downstairs to the lunch room.

I grab a yellow tray and some utensils, get in line, and let the lunch ladies load up my tray. I bypass one of the tiny cartons of milk and grab a bottle of juice, pay for it all, then look around for a seat. Unfortunately, I made eye contact with Eric, who waves me over to his table. Not wanting to be rude, I head over. I'm relieved that he isn't sitting at the table alone. Mike is there, along with the quiet girl from History, and the curly haired girl from Math.

I sit down next to the quiet girl, only half listening to the conversation already going on. I pick at the salad on my tray, pulling out my phone and scrolling through my Facebook feed, quietly singing Wasting My Love on You by Annette Hanshaw under my breath, no one able to hear me over the roar of conversations in the cafeteria. After a few moments, I notice the group around me are talking a little quieter and are more animated. Suddenly, I hear my name and perk up.

"They're staring at Bella, I think. They never really seem to notice anyone or anything. Maybe they are intrigued by the new girl too." The curly haired girl says quietly and with a slightly annoyed tone, like she's scared the subjects of her observation can hear her.

She must be jealous of whatever attention I must be getting. Great, I don't want any attention and I certainly don't want drama with someone over it. I look up and see that everyone at the table is looking over to a table by the windows. I follow their gaze, and my heart skips a beat. Sitting at the table are a group of the most beautiful people I've ever seen. I feel my jaw has dropped slightly, so I get myself to close it before I try to register what I'm seeing. There are three boys (if you can call them that. Only one of them looks like he is still a teenager) and two girls.

One of the boys (men, whatever) looked to be huge in the small lunchroom seat. He looks even bigger than Phil, not necessarily height-wise, but in sheer mass. He has to be at least six feet with tree trunks for arms and and a huge chest that looks like it's about to rip his tight, white button up shirt. He has short brown hair, black eyes, and is pale.

Paler than me, which is saying something. He also has dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn't slept in years. Despite his size and the alarming dark circles, he looks to have a kind (almost goofy looking) face. He is talking to someone sitting across from him, wearing a huge smile on his face, and let's out a laugh at whatever was said. He picking at the sandwich on his tray, but I notice he hasn't actually eaten it or anything else.

I look to the girl to the left of him, and see she is strikingly beautiful, looking like she should be strutting on the runways in Milan, not slumming it here in Forks. She has wavy blonde hair that almost reaches her waist. She is also pale with dark circles under her eyes, which seems to be the theme with everyone at their table, along with the black eyes. She is wearing a white balloon-sleeve stretch-silk blouse (which looks like it costs more than my truck, when it was new) and embroidered velvet and wool-flannel wrap skirt (her outfit has to cost more than my future college education).

Despite her beauty, you can tell she has the resting bitch face down,. She is probably a bitch even when not resting, based on the looks she is getting from the people around her. She doesn't seem to be participating in whatever conversation the guy next to her is engrossed in, instead scrolling through her phone in her surprisingly strong and rough looking hands.

To the big guys right is another boy/man. He is blonde, though it is not a bright blonde like the girl, with his hair slightly curly and coming down to his shoulders. He is smaller than the big guy, but you can tell he isn't lacking in the muscle department. Looking at his shirt sleeves (which is all you can see, since he is wearing a sweater vest that covers his torso) you can see the soft contours of the muscles on his arms.

He has an expression on his face that looks like he is in pain, but trying not to be a pussy about it and hold it in. Unlike the other two I've seen so far, he is looking faintly in my direction. Not quite at me, but at some point past me. Almost like he want's to look, but knows it is rude to make eye contact with a stranger. His mouth is moving slightly, so I guess he is talking to someone at his table too.

Next to him is the one who looks more like a teenager. He has short, stylishly messy bronze hair that hints to some red in the light. He is the more lean of the males (yeah, I'm tired of trying to determine if they are still boys or men). He doesn't look like he spends any time at the gym, but he definitely doesn't sit around the house playing video games either. This one is wearing a black button up shirt, not as tight fitting as the other two.

He is looking directly at me, unlike the others, but he is still moving his mouth, talking to his table-mates. I make the mistake of making eye contact with him, and am frozen for a moment. His expression is a cross between annoyance and curiosity, which makes me uncomfortable for some reason. I want to look away, but his gaze has me trapped. I'm grateful when he turns away, giving the blonde guy his attention, breaking the connection. I look over to the last at the table, and am grateful I save her for last.

I gasp a little, when I see the last of the impossibly beautiful people (angels?) at the table. I thought the blonde was beautiful, but she doesn't hold a candle to the other girl at the table. She has short black hair, styled in a pixie cut, which certainly matches the rest of her. She is short, 5'2" tall at most, and I can't imagine she weighs more than 100lbs.

She is wearing a bright pink (such a contrast to the rest of those sitting at the table, who are wearing either white or black) stretch-wool cady dress that comes just past her knees. She is pale like the rest, with the same dark circles under her black eyes. She isn't looking my way now, but I get the feeling she was the other one that the curly haired girl at my table was talking about staring at me. Instead, she seems to be trying to get the blonde girls attention.

I get jerked out of my thoughts when a hand snapping it's fingers pops up in front of my face. I look over at the others at my table and notice them all staring at me curiously now. It makes me self conscience and a little annoyed, but I try to bite my tongue.

"Who are they?" I manage to ask after a minute.

The curly hair girl gives me a smug smile, obviously she's enjoying my embarrassment. "They're Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's kids. The brunettes are the Cullen's. The blondes are the Hales. Well, adopted kids. The brunettes are Mrs. Cullen's niece and nephews or something, and the Hales are related to Dr. Cullen somehow. They moved here a few years ago from Alaska. And they're like, together." She whispers the last sentence like the offending party can hear her over the loud roaring in the lunch room from the students around us.

I steal a glance at the Cullen table, and I swear I see the teenage boy and the pixie girl smirk, their eyes looking over at us in their periphery. They can't possibly hear us though, so I figure my mind is playing tricks on me and they're just smirking at something the big guy said, cause he bursts out with another loud laugh.

"Jessica, don't say it like that. They aren't actually related. Besides, we only know for sure that Emmett and Rosalie are together. Alice and Jasper could just be close." The girl from History rolls her eyes at the curly haired girl, who I now know is Jessica. Good, I was afraid I was going to have to start addressing her as hey you.

"Which ones are which?" I ask, trying to reign in my desperation for answers.

"The blonde girl is Rosalie, she's kind of a bitch. The big guy is Emmett, he is just goofy. They're the ones that are confirmed to be together. There, happy Angela?" Jessica emphasizes, with a pointed and sarcastic look at Angela.

"Very, thank you." Angela grins back, ignoring the sarcasm.

"The blonde guy is Jasper, who looks like he's constantly in pain. The short girl is Alice, she is super weird. And the really good looking one is Edward." She finishes, kind of zoning out as her eyes touch onto Edwards face. She is obviously interested in him, but he doesn't seem to hold the same feelings, as he sees her looking and then turns his attention back to his adoptive siblings.

Jessica shakes her head, bringing herself out of her reverie, probably involving Edward and some handcuffs, based on the blush that comes to her face. I chance a glance back at their table, and notice Edward twitch the corner of his mouth, and this time I KNOW I see him glance over at our table. Maybe the cafeteria has an echo that gravitates to that side of the room?

Alice has her attention on their table as well, but I swear I saw her eyes glance over in our direction looking offended, while I was watching Edward. Just as I let my gaze drift over to Alice, she looks over to me and I swear I see a shocked look on her face when we make eye contact, and a slight grin spreads across her face. It gives me a peculiar feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

"They never pay anyone much attention. Have you met them already, Bella?" I am startled when I hear my name and look over to see Mike is the one talking to me.

"No, this is the first time I've seen them. They don't talk to anyone? Do they not have friends?" I ask, shocked. Then again, they seem like the type who make friends with famous designers, who are trying to recruit them to model for them. Not with high school teenagers in a small Podunk town like this.

"Not really. Alice is the only one that really makes an effort to talk to anyone. The rest of them tend to just talk to each other. I don't think any of them have friends." Eric answered this time.

"Huh..." Is my brilliant reply.

The others seem to have gotten over the conversation, when I don't give more of a response, and go back to making fun of each other and talking about the latest drama with the other cliques. I pull out my headphones, plug them in, and hit play on the next artist on my list. By the way, I have slight OCD when it comes to the weirdest things. I listen to my music in alphabetical order by artist, I have to use a clean towel every time I wash my hair, and can't have the volume on a number that doesn't end in 0, 2, 5, or 8.

Well, those are the one's I have trouble holding back on. I have others, but I'm doing better about getting over those impulses. So, right now I am in the Cs, after having listened to a lot of music last night before bed. So, I put on Coheed and Cambria and jam out to Welcome Home. While I start mouthing the words, I chance a glance back at the Cullen/Hale table and look away again when I make eye contact with Alice.

I swear she was nodding her head in time to the song, mouthing the words too, while giving me a small smile that makes my heart start to race. I make myself look away, shaking the thought from my head. There is no way she could be nodding to my music. No way she can hear what I'm listening to, through my headphones, across the cafeteria.

The bell rings just as the song finishes. I look up and the Cullen's have already left the cafeteria, except Alice, who is skipping to the trash bin with her tray. She empties the untouched contents of her tray into the bin, places the tray on top, and seemingly dances her way out the door. I put my tray away and head to my next class, which I share with Eric and Mike, apparently. I let them lead me to the classroom, downstairs this time, in room 129.

Mr. Banner signs my slip as soon as I walk in, gives me the textbook (oh joy, I'm gonna get RIPPED from carrying all these books), and directs me to the only open seat in the lab. My jaw drops slightly when I look up and see it is next to Edward Cullen. The fact that it's him isn't what is causing me to look like the Genie when Jasmine flirts with Jafar, though.

This may be the case with pretty much any other girl (and some boys) in the school, the jaw dropping. But again, I'm not normal. I have never really felt attracted to anyone, man or woman. I was starting to think I was just asexual, until the cafeteria twenty minutes ago. What makes my jaw drop is the look he is giving me. Before, in the lunch room, he regarded me with more curiosity than anything. Now, however, he looks like I bitch-slapped his mother in front of him.

Edward lifts his hand to his face and covers his nose and mouth, leaning as far from me as he can in his stool, as I make my way over to him. I look around the room, hoping to see an open seat I hadn't noticed before, but don't find one. I decide to ignore him and just look straight ahead at the board, only glancing at him out of my periphery.

I try to take notes throughout class, which feels like lasts hours with the tension that's filled the air around us, but find it hard to concentrate on Mr. Banner's lesson. I can feel Edwards dark eyes burning into the side of my head, and decide to shift my head so my hair blocks my face from his view. Suddenly, just as the bell rings, Edward jumps up and practically runs out of the door. I subtly sniff myself, wondering if I have BO or something (which I shouldn't, since I haven't had PE yet) and, finding no offensive smell, decide he is the problem, not me.

I gather my book and notes, depositing them in my now lighter backpack and get up. Mike and Eric are waiting for me up front again, but this time they look amused.

"What did you do to Cullen, dishonor his family?" Mike asks me, beaming. He obviously doesn't feel the same towards Edward as what I assume the rest of the student population do. He must feel like Edward is competition, which I can't blame him for. Mike certainly has a better personality, since he isn't treating me like I insulted his family, but he doesn't match Edward in the looks department.

"I didn't do anything to him. I guess he doesn't like my shampoo or something..." A lame excuse, I know. But Mike doesn't seem to care.

"Maybe. What kind do you use? Maybe I can get more people to use it." He says, seemingly amused with himself and his idea to hamper the competition. I ignore him though, lost in thoughts about what could have happened between leaving the lunch room and walking into class to make Edward so hostile towards me.

"What's your next class, Bella?" Eric asks me, trying to change the subject it seems.

"Drama." I answer without looking up.

"Oh. Well, that's in the opposite direction of where we are going. Think you can find it yourself?" He and Mike stop, waiting for an answer.

I barely slow down, waving over my shoulder as I continue to the other side of the building, "Yeah, I can manage. See you guys later!"

I managed to make it to the class just as the bell rang, having gotten lost for a moment while I was too busy fuming rather than paying attention to where I was going. I rush into the room, thrusting the signature slip into Mrs. Goff's hands, who signs it and has me take a seat. I look up, and jerk to a stop for a moment when I see Alice smiling up at me.

The classroom, if you can call it that, is in a large room, with a few 'stairs' that are wide and long enough to hold ten chairs each in a long row. Alice is at the top, and gestures to an empty seat next to her. Probably looking as pink as her dress, I make my way up the stairs and lower myself into the seat next to her, trying not to make direct eye contact (fearing if I keep turning red, I'll somehow burn my face off).

"Hi, I'm Alice Cullen. You're Bella, right?" She startles me, I don't expect her voice to sound like it does. Although, to be fair, everything about her so far is unexpected.
Her voice is high, like bells chiming in a warm summer breeze. I glance up, instantly regretting it. She is smiling at me, and it is such a beautiful sight, my voice catches in my throat and I turn red again, and instead just nod dumbly. She finds this amusing, because she lets out a quiet little laugh, reminding me of Koshi wind chimes. This ticks me off a little, so I muster up the best glare I can and shoot it at her. I don't think it was very intimidating, but it seems to do the job. She stops laughing, trying to put on a serious face.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh. You're just so adorable." She whispers, as Mrs. Goff has started class by now.

"I am not..." I reply, sounding a little childish, even to my own ears.

The corner of her mouth twitches at this, obviously hiding a smirk.

"If you say so... Is this your first time in Forks?"

"No, this isn't my first time here. I used to visit with my dad every summer here until a couple of years ago."

I am starting to feel a bit more comfortable talking with her. Something about her is making me feel relaxed, although I can't imagine why. If anything, I notice I should be feeling quite the opposite. She scooted closer to me while I was talking, to where our thighs were almost touching. Usually, being so close to someone would make me shift away nervously, especially someone as glamorous as her. I don't feel inclined to do so though.

"Your dad's Chief Swan right? What made you stop visiting?" She asks curiously.

"Yeah, that's him... Honestly, I hate the cold and rain. I get depressed being here. When I was fourteen I finally had it and refused to come out here. So, after that, my dad would manage to take a few weeks off from work and we would go somewhere." I don't know why I'm telling her this, but for some reason I feel I can tell her anything and not feel overly judged and trust she won't divulge my thoughts and feelings to others.

"If being here is so depressing, why did you move here?" She cocks her head to the side a bit, knitting her dark, perfectly shaped eyebrows together, looking utterly adorable. She is obviously trying to figure out my flawed logic in moving here. I wasn't going to answer, but then my brown eyes were locked into her black ones, and I felt my reluctance dissipate immediately.

"Well, my mom re-married. The guy is a minor league baseball player, and he isn't on a team right now. He wants to go on the road to try out. I could tell my mom wanted to go with him, but she was going to stay with me. I didn't want to make her unhappy, so I told her I wanted to move out here and spend time with Charlie... Charlie is my dad, by the way."

I don't know why I'm telling her these things. I wouldn't even be willing to talk to Jeana about this, and she is my best friend. I don't know anything about Alice except she is adopted, but I'm telling her my deepest secrets like it's nothing.

"So, now you aren't happy? I'm sorry I'm asking so many personal questions. I'm usually good at figuring out what people are going to tell me about themselves, but I'm having a hard time with you." When she says this last part, she looks down timidly, but I caught a hint of annoyance in her eyes.

I choose to gloss over the last part of her little rant, not knowing how to respond to it, and instead just answer her question. "I'm not happy right now, but I think it will be good for me to get closer to my dad. And I'm determined to make my time here enjoyable."

"Well, I hope I can help in that pursuit." She winks after that, her eyes sparkling, making me shiver a bit. Before I can try to say anything, not that I think I even could without stuttering like a fool, Mrs. Goff clears her throat in front of us. She obviously noticed we weren't paying attention to her, and glares at me for a moment before feeling confident we are paying attention now.

We continued the class in silence after that. I glance at Alice out of the corner of my eye, catching her staring at me a few times, throughout the class. When the bell rings, Alice hops up and clasps her hands behind her back, waiting for me to get up too. I grab my bag and stand up.

"What's your next class?" She asks, when I finally look up at her.

"PE." I groan, not looking forward to having to end each of my school days with one of my most hated classes.

She giggles at my response, but beams in utter excitement. "That's my next class too! Want to walk with me?"

"Sure." I breathe out, embarrassed at how excited I sound.

She doesn't seem to mind it though. If anything, she seems glad that I enjoy spending time with her. I finally manage to look away from her for a moment and notice we are being stared at as we walk down the hall to the doors that lead outside, towards the smaller building that is confirmed to be the gym. As people stare, they're whispering among themselves, and I know they are talking about us. I guess Alice talking to me is causing a stir. Maybe Jessica and Mike where right about the Cullen's keeping to themselves. It seems to be strange that I'm walking with her, to them at least.

"Can I ask you a question about your brother?" I'm shocked at myself for saying out loud what I was thinking, and instantly become terrified. I hope I don't offend her when I reveal my thoughts on Edward and make her stop talking to me.

"Is it about his behavior in your Physics class?" She asks with an annoyed edge to her voice. I can tell it's more directed to her brother than to me, much to my relief.

"Well, yeah. How did you know? Did I do something to make him mad at me?"

"Oh, uh, he told me about it when I saw him in the halls on the way to Drama. And no, you didn't do anything to him. Not intentionally. Don't worry about him, he'll get over it." She says, being intentionally vague. I get the sense she won't elaborate, even if I ask, so I just leave it be.

We've made it to the gym by now, with her waving to me as she heads to the locker rooms and I head to the coach. Coach Clapp signs my slip and then hands me gym clothes. She doesn't make me dress down today, putting me at ease. That doesn't last long though, as I remember that I share this class with Alice and will have to change in the locker room with her. I'm suddenly very self-conscience and nervous for tomorrow.

The coaches decided on volleyball for the method of torture this week. Since I'm not dressed today, they let me sit in the bleachers. I watch as they split up the teams, and realize Alice isn't the only face I know in this class. I see Jessica and Angela, who wave up at me in the bleachers. I find Alice, and she waves up at me as well, making me blush.

Alice and Angela end up on the same team, which will face off against Jessica's team. I can't get my eyes off of Alice, and am surprised to see how well she plays. Despite her short stature, she manages to hold her own on the court. She scores a few points and manages to save Angela from a vicious serve that Jessica sent her way. In the end, Alice's team wins the game, and the coaches dismiss us five minutes before the bell so we can shower and change.

I head down the bleachers and go to the locker room, well behind everyone else that was on the court, since the bleachers are on the opposite side of where the locker rooms are and I sat on the very top step. Alice had already changed and was heading out the door as I walked in the locker room and to my locker. I open it and almost shove my clothes in when I notice a paper sitting on the bottom of the locker. Curious, I pick it up and put my new-ish gym clothes in, prepared for when I have to endure the next day's torture. I open the paper and allow a goofy grin to adorn my face as I read it. Written in loopy, extravagant handwriting that I have only seen in my history books, is a phone number. Under it is a note that simply says 'when you want help making your time in Forks enjoyable.'