The first time I ever saw Renesmee Carlie Cullen was one windy October afternoon, in Gym.

I hate gym. Not only am I physically incapable of kicking a soccer ball straight across a soccer field, I also stink at football, lacrosse, volleyball, and all those other multi-player sports. The only sport I have a chance in is tennis. I think it has something to do with the fact that tennis can be played with only one person on each team. There is less coordinating with everyone else and more making your own decisions. I've always been independent.

So, on one windy October afternoon, I made my way across the dull, cracked grey parking lot to the gym. I was in a bad mood. I'd bombed my latest math test and gotten an F. I'd also tripped over my own feet on the way out the door. The same thing had happened in English. Clumsy, that's me!

I lined up outside the tall, dirty cream-colored building. The gym didn't belong to our school. It belonged to the church right next to it. Our school, being in it's temporary location, didn't have the money or the license to build it's own gym. However, once in the permanent location, we'd apparently have a plethora of sporting fields. I'd seen the blueprint drawings; it looked like there was going to be four basketball courts, a soccer field, and a football field. Huh.

I shivered as a blast of icy wind whipped around me like a full-blown tempest. Autumn in Denver, Colorado was always windy. My classmates chattered around me as I tried to ignore the cold. My best friend, Sarah, wasn't in the same Gym class as me. Unsurprisingly, I didn't have any friends in Gym.

My best friend was about my 5'1" height, with naturally light brown hair. She'd dyed it darker for Halloween, which was just around the corner. Sarah had light green eyes. Actually, no one could figure out exactly the color of Sarah's eyes. Her pupils were the darkest black, contrasting sharply with the light green around them, which gradually faded into a darker greenish gold. My own eyes were different colors too, but not in the cool way, like Sarah's. My hazel eyes were boring, just like my dark brown hair and dark eyebrows were.

The door to the gym opened suddenly, revealing a red-haired, freckled Coach Stephens.

"How many minutes today?" asked a boy in front of me jokingly. All the boys were friends with Coach Stephens.

"Nine minutes," replied Coach Stephens. "Ladies first…"

We all filed past him into the gym. The smell of rubber and sweat drifted to my nose unpleasantly as I began to jog. At a normal school, I would have gone into the locker rooms and changed into my sports uniform. But we didn't have sports uniforms at Ponderosa High School. Not to mention locker rooms.

Coach Stephens aimed a tiny remote control at his Ipod, turning it on. The speakers behind it blared to life, playing some high energy, quick-beat song. Coach Stephens approved of listening to music while exercising. He said it got your adrenaline up. Whatever.

As I ran past the cart on which the Ipod was sitting on, I heard a quick line of the song crash past my ears, and then I was past it.

Went the distance; now I'm not gonna stop…

It was Eye of the Tiger, a song I'd heard a million times before. I reached my hands up to the back of my head as I ran, tying my shoulder-length hair up into a ponytail. I'd forgotten to take off my long-sleeved red sweatshirt before I had started to run. I was going to become pretty hot. I could hear the person behind me panting. We had to run in a single file line. If anyone stopped, we'd have to start the nine minutes over again. I blew past the cart again.

Build me a, build me a buttercup, baby…

Yeah, Coach Stephens had a lot of weird songs on his Ipod. I tried to take my mind off the way I was starting to really have to pull to breathe. I could feel a stitch building in my side. My legs felt like lead as I ran around and around and around the gym…

After what seemed like forever, Coach Stephens blew his whistle. Everybody stopped, all in various states of exhaustion. I swallowed with difficulty as I stripped off my sweatshirt at last. I was wearing a black t-shirt with a butterfly design on it.

The whole class gathered in the center of the gym to hear what torture Coach Stephens had lined up for us today. When I heard, I groaned. Soccer. Great.

We divided into teams, each team putting on a different colored jersey. I was on the green team. Whoop-di-doo.

The said coach blew his whistle and the game began. Usually I stayed out of the way during games, hoping that no one would pass the ball to me. Sometimes I involved myself in the game, tried to make myself noticed, but it always ended in disaster. I simply wasn't meant for sports.

I darted around the fringes of the game, avoiding attention, and pretending I didn't notice when anyone in possession of the ball looked at me. However, sometimes it was inevitable that I would get caught up in the fray. This was one of those times. The one time the ball was passed to me, I missed it completely. It traveled past me and hit an unsuspecting player.

I became more and more frustrated as the game went on. Why couldn't I have enough hand-eye coordination to at least kick a ball? I was so absorbed in my depressing thoughts that I wasn't really aware of my surroundings. Suddenly the ball was under my feet. I slipped as my feet found its surface. I skidded, and suddenly I was crashing down. It was a good thing I was wearing long jeans, not a skirt, or my underwear would have made a startling appearance. As it was, I hit the ground with a thump, on my left elbow.

Of course, nobody stopped to see if I was all right. Coach Stephens wasn't paying any attention to the game or to me, either.

But somebody had seen, and somebody had stopped. As I held my throbbing elbow, somebody reached down their hand to help me up. And I took it.