Disclaimer: This idea came to me when watching Tyler Henry, the celebrity medium! The idea is mine but, the characters belong to Stephanie Myer, obviously!

Chapter Sountrack: Arcade Fire 'Ready to Start', The Lumineers 'Ophelia' and Lance Joy 'Riptide'

"Life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only a horizon, and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight."

- Rossiter Worthington Raymond

Chapter 1: Arrival

The man in seat 27A recently lost someone; a paternal spirit with what Bella assumed to be a breathing problem based on the closing of her throat and, the vague sensation of suffocating she was experiencing. A feeling that didn't bother her as much as it should've considering it dampened the ghostly scent of leather, oil and, tobacco that was mixing in with the already strong smell of airplane; a smell that told her 27A's ghost was an avid smoker, which explained the lung issues Bella was sure the ghost had.

Of course, this was all useless information that Bella didn't want to know in the first place - she'd much rather prefer relatively clean air then private information she had no use for.

Bella exhaled shallowly, avoiding the acrid taste of smoke and airplane in the confined air, and closed her eyes. She tried to focus on the music blasting in her ears instead of the foreign sensations swarming her senses; a technique which only lasted her a few seconds before the man - a father or grandfather - shoved the label of a type of whiskey into her head.

A Jack Daniels, Bella realized. She recognized the label from Phil's cupboard of expensive liquor back in their house in Phoenix. The phrase 1904 gold darted across her mind curiously; repeating like a mantra.

So, the liquor he showed her was old, from the little Bella knew of booze, that was supposed to be a good thing, but she still had no idea what it meant.

What was the message this guy was trying to get across? She couldn't figure it out.

Bella almost never could.

Suddenly, a potent sadness washed over Bella. The feeling was second hand, but it watered her eyes all the same. Without warning, the word stop boomed in her mind, just as loud as if the speakers had announced it.

Bella's temple began to throb and she winced forcefully shoving the man out of her head, hurriedly wiping the runaway tears.

Bella had let her guard down, allowed curiosity get the best of her. It was a mistake, allowing one of them in for so long: all it did was open herself up to all the other presences trying to claw their way into her conscious.

And, that never ended well.

Bella shifted uncomfortably in the coach seat and, glanced out the window as the captain's formal voice blared across the plane.

"Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking. We will be landing in Port Angeles, Washington in fifteen minutes. Please keep your seatbelts on and, turn off all electronic devices. Thank you."

Bella sighed, utterly unenthused with the idea of arriving at her destination, before reaching for her headphones in the depths of her bag and shoving them on.

She spent the rest of the flight blasting one of Phil's old rock albums in an attempt to ignore the prying fingers trying to peel back her mental defenses and dreading her arrival.

Around northwest Washington State, a small, insignificant town named Forks existed cloaked under a veil grey. It rained in this little town more than any other place in the United States of America - Bella knew because she had looked up that information as a child to prove a point. It was in this town that Bella's father Charlie Swan spent his days, watching sports and eating fish. As a child, Bella had been compelled to spend a month every summer there with him until she turned fourteen, and finally, put her foot down.

If she was going to go through the torment of going to the airport and, getting on a plan it was not going to be to go somewhere she had no desire to travel to in the first place.

Bella hated crowds and sharing tight spaces with other people; airports, and planes on the top of that list. The more people Bella was around, the more spirits try to communicate with her - like clockwork.

Therefore, instead, these past three summers Charlie vacationed with her in a remote cabin on a private California beach for two weeks instead; sunny and secluded just like she preferred.

Bella loved anywhere hot. She loved the desert. She loved Phoenix, which is where she used to live with her mother before her self-decided exile, with its sun and blistering heat. But, as much as she loved the weather, Bella couldn't take the rigorous, sprawling city anymore. She couldn't handle dealing with the baggage that came with the cities occupants any longer. It was just too much.

Of course, Bella couldn't share her reasons for suddenly asking to live in a place she had openly avoided her whole life. It took weeks of convincing to get her mother to agree to agree to the proposal.

"Bella," Renee had said to her for the hundredth time before Bella got on the plane. "You don't have to do this." Her mother looked like her, except with short hair and laugh lines. Bella had felt a spasm of panic as she stared at her big, trusting eyes. How could she leave her mother to brave the world by herself?

Granted, Renne had Phil now. Therefore, the bills would get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost -Bella wouldn't have decided to do this otherwise - but still…

"I want to go," Bella had (partially) lied. Bella had always been a lousy liar, but she'd been saying that lie so frequently at that point it sounded almost convincing even to her.

Renee had begrudgingly accepted that. It was a good step up from laughing in Bella's face whenever it was mentioned.

"I'll see you soon," Renee had insisted. "You can come home whenever you want. I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

But, Bella had seen the reluctance in the set of her ageless face and, the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise. It steeled her nerves. Moving is what's best for both of us, Bella had thought.

"Don't worry about me, it'll be great." she urged, Bella had almost meant it that time. " I love you, Mom."

Renee had hugged her daughter tightly one last time, and then Bella got on the plane.

Bella clutched at that memory, freezing the lovely smile and warmth of her mother, focusing on it as she stepped off the plane.

She used that image as a kind of tool against the spirits - Bella found that if she focused on the people dearest to her, the loved ones of others would have a harder time getting through the shield she had spent years building to keep them out. Which wasn't so much of a problem in that moment considering the Port Angeles Airport was the smallest airport she'd ever been in.

Bella made her way past the terminal, dejected she had arrived but, thankful for the limited amount of people, both dead and alive, in the area.

Bella caught sight of the businessman from seat 27A as she gathered her luggage and gracelessly zipped up her parka. A familiar pang of guilt hit her as she looked at the balding man and, unlike in the plane, this feeling was entirely her own.

27A would probably want to hear a message from his dead relative if he knew it was possible, who was she to deny him - them- this?

But, Bella figured out a long time ago how that encounter would go down. Speaking of messages from dead relatives either gets you put on heavy medication for dementia or, a reality TV show.

Bella doubted she'd be the type of person to get a tv show for being weird.

That is why instead of marching over there as she wanted to share the fact that the mans dead, chain-smoking father figure who died of lung cancer and was obsessed with Jack Daniels wanted him to stop something, Bella turned to the exit. Her headache from the ghostly fingers of the dead raking against her mind only getting stronger as she went.

Jack Daniels was a stubborn one.

Yet, Bella expertly ignored him, pushing through the glass doors and, hitting her ankle with her own bag in the process.

As soon as Bella stepped outside she was drenched. It was raining torrentially - the type of downpour that a person could probably drown in if they weren't careful. Charlie conveniently was right in front of the building.

Inconveniently, he had brought the cruiser to pick her up.

Charlie was Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks and, drove in the cruiser everywhere whether it was groceries or, low-speed chases. Bella's primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of her funds, was that she refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Well, she'd rather not be driven around period, but the fact that the cruiser was the only vehicle Charlie owned really solidified her resolve.

Charlie gave Bella an awkward, one-armed hug once she reached him after sploshing her way through the wet; holding his arms out for preemptive measures as she trudged.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied her when she tripped over his feet."You haven't changed much."

Bella thought it was genuinely good to see him too. Through their vacations to California, once everything Bella hated was erased from the equation, she realized that she and Charlie were so much alike their coexistence was natural as breathing. If Bella were honest, her favorite time of the year was those summer vacations with Charlie: he never hovered, didn't linger.

Charlie understood Bella as much as any normal person could understand a medium. The truth was he might've been the only person in the world who could.

Charlie was used to the quirks of living with a medium, considering he was raised by one.

Also, the presence that always lingered around Charlie comforted Bella immensely; as tranquil, loving, warm as it was.

She could feel whispers of that presence already; the touch feather light against her mind, though she kept the wall up, for the moment at least.

"It's good to see you, too, Dad." Bella answered, careful not to call him by his first name. She wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face.

Bella had only a few bags. Most of her Arizona clothes were useless against the Washington cold. She and her mom had pooled their resources to supplement her winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

Somewhere at the corner of her eye, Bella saw 27A in front of a shiny black Buick, pulling a flask out of his coat and taking a hardy swing.

Ohhhhh

The guilt from earlier returned with a whole new intensity, punching her in the gut so hard she staggered and hit her forehead on the top of the cruiser. It took her a minute to recover. Charlie was too busy wrestling the bags into the trunk to notice, which was for the best. It saved Bella the embarrassment of an explanation. As she plopped down into the car seat, she couldn't decide if the spots in her vision were from the guilts wallop or, her clumsiness.

Bella figured an unlucky mixture of both.

"How is she?" Charlie asked quietly, their custom, once they were strapped in the cruisers privacy and, protected from bullets of water.

Bella closed her eyes and, finally, relaxed her shield enough for the spirit he was asking about to come through; allowing it to wrap around her like a blanket. Instantly, flashes of twinkling brown eyes, a knowing wide smile and, the dulcet sound of a lullaby filled her senses.

The images faded just as quickly as they came and, an intense wave of contentment eased over her, melting her bones into her seat and, erasing any traces of shame she carried.

Hi, Grandma. Bella thought, before responding to Charlie; the answer was the same as it had been since Grandma Swan died when Bella was eleven.

"Happy," Bella murmured, tasting the salt of a wayward tear on her lips.

Charlie's eyes always glistened when she told him that, today was no different.

"Good," he replied gruffly.

They usually didn't ever acknowledge Bella's ability after that conversation was out of the way, to her relief.

Bella could barely understand her ability herself, much less explain it to someone else.

The Swans exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. They spent the rest of the car ride staring out the windows in comfortable silence.

Bella hated this place so much the scenery should've matched her feelings. It didn't.

Washington was despicably beautiful.

Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their leaf covered branched limbs, the ground covered with ferns and, shrubbery. Even the air filtered down through the leaves in a shine of sunlight and, green.

The problem wasn't its beauty, that was never the case, the issue was that Bella believed it to be too green. Too green and too cold and too wet and too bipolar. One day it could be snowing, the next it was rainy and after that, if it was one of those rare days, sunny.

You never knew what to expect in Forks and, Bella hated surprises.

Eventually, they arrive at Charlie's and, Bella could no longer contemplate the horrid state of green everything was in, or her dislike of the unknown. Charlie still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with Bella's mother in the early days of their marriage. The only days of their marriage.

As soon as they pulled into the driveway, something out of place caught Bella's eyes - well, more like demanded the attention of her and, everyone within a five-mile radius.

There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was a truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. The car screamed of one of those robust steel that never gets damaged, like some kind of monster truck. The kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

Surprisingly, Bella could see herself in it and, hope kindled in her heart.

"Dad…?" The question hovered in the air.

"What do you think?" Charlie nodded toward the truck with his chin, subtly peeking sideways at her with a hopeful expression.

Bella smiled, completely shocked. She had her answer.

"Oh wow, Dad I love it! Thank you!"

It was perfect, she wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser - if the car ran, of course. But, before she could go farther into her excitement, it ebbs. Her hate of having people be inconvenienced by her, especially for getting her a gift, resurfaced.

"Wait. Dad, you didn't have to. I would've gotten myself one. I have money saved…."

Charlie shook his head firmly. "Well, honey, I thought you could keep that money for yourself. I got it as a kind of homecoming gift. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the house when he said this.

This confession shocked Bella even more than the gesture with the car; she knew that the sentiment was implied in his actions but, to have Charlie say that aloud was nothing short of monumental.

Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. Bella inherited that from him. So, she turned to look straight ahead as she responded, making sure to lace her gratitude for her words. They came out a bit more tender than she expected: that was fine.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thank you, seriously. I really appreciate it."

"Well, now, you're welcome," Charlie mumbled, embarrassed by her genuine thanks and, once that was done, practically sprinted out the car; his quota of emotional moments for the month filled.

Bella chuckled softly at her father's awkward antics and stepped out as well.

Well, fell out would be the more accurate term.

"Where did you find it?" Bella called to Charlie's retreating back. In his sheepish haste, Charlie was almost at the doorway with her bags.

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push was the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"No."

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted. That would explain why Bella didn't remember him. She did an excellent job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from her memory.

With her abilities it was necessary.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when she didn't respond, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" she could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping she wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years old, honestly." That wasn't a full response, Charlie pulled off being evasive poorly.

"When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think."

"Did he buy it new?" Bella probed, knowing there was something he wasn't saying.

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties or late fifties." Charlie admitted ruefully.

And, there went the dream.

"Ch - Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic…"

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore. Trust me. It's fine."

Bella didn't like the way he said "the thing." Despite her protests, it was her car. It at least deserved a nickname. Didn't guys always refer to cars as "she?"

'She' deserved better.

"Okay, Dad. If you say so." Bella conceded, following him into the house.

Bella's room was the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. It looked the same as it had Bella's entire life. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as she grew.

Oh, and the new purple bedsheets at the foot of the bed. That was new.

Bella wasn't even as surprised as she should've been when she realizes the rocking chair from her baby days were still in the corner. That can easily be fixed. What Bella was trying hard not to dwell on too much was the one small bathroom at the top of the stairs she would have to share with Charlie.

There was no fix for that.

It took only one trip to get all her stuff upstairs and, Charlie didn't hover once it was done. He allowed her to get settled in peace. Bella was thankful for it. It was nice not to have to pretend anymore. She could dramatically look out the window and let a few tears escape in peace.

Even though Bella knew her choice was necessary, the lesser of two evils, that didn't mean she had to be happy about it. Nevertheless, she pushed those thoughts out her mind for now. If Bella stayed on this train of thought, she wouldn't be able to hold back the tears - the real ones, not the traitorous few that seemed to leak out at any or every emotion Bella felt - and she wasn't ready to really start crying yet.

That would come when she's in bed where she would have no choice but to think of the coming morning.

Forks High School had a frightening yet relievingly total of only three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-eight - students. All of the kids here had grown up together; their grandparents had been toddlers together. Bella would be the new girl from the big city: a curiosity, a freak.

Well, Bella was a freak but, in Forks, she would be a freak by normal standards too.

Maybe if Bella had the looks of a girl from the Phoenix, she could work the "new girl" angle to her advantage. But, physically, Bella would never fit in anywhere.

She should be tan, sporty, blonde; outgoing and, sociable and, overall desirable. Essentially, all the things associated with living in the valley of the sun. That wasn't the case.

Instead, Bella was ivory-skinned, with plain brown eyes, a too prominent chin and, boring straight hair. She had always been slender, but soft somehow, very obviously not an athlete; she didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play actual sports; she barely had enough hand-eye coordination to complete simple human activities - like walking, or skipping, or dancing. She was quite hopeless in the physical department in every sense of the word.

And, because of that, Bella had no weapons in her arsenal to help her for the day. Hell, Bella didn't even have an arsenal, that's how hopeless she was.

Maybe she could just content herself with accepting her fate with dignity.

Once she finished putting her clothes in the old pine dresser, Bella took her bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean herself up after the day of travel. She looked at her face in the newly, cleaned mirror as she brushed through her tangled, rain-sodden hair. Maybe it was the light - or a trick of it - but already she saw her skin looking paler, waxier - unhealthy.

Any of the potential her normally clear, almost translucent skin had for being pretty was sucked out by the doom and gloom of the area.

It made Bella feel like she belonged in the Addams family.

She really wouldn't fit in anywhere else.

That train of thought kept up until later that night.

Laying on the soft mattress of her bed, under the faded old quilt Charlie has had for years; Bella admitted she was lying to herself when she said she wouldn't fit in Forks because of her newness, or her appearance. Bella had never fit in anywhere, for obvious reasons, in her life.

Being surrounded by the dead and, bonding to them as intimately as she could, made it impossible for her to relate to kids her age.

Even Bella's mother, who she was closer to her than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with her, never on the same page. How could she be? Only Swans were allowed to know about the women of the families shared gift; Renee had given up her right to that information when she left Charlie with an infant Bella in tow - before Charlie could know Bella had inherited the gift in the first place.

The only person who had ever truly, wholly, unquestionably understood her was Grandma Swan, and she's been dead for six years.

Well, sure, Bella could feel Grandma but, it wasn't the same. The way Bella's powers worked was that it's a one-sided conversation. Those who couldn't enter that state of peaceful stasis between the world of the living and dead for one reason or another – Grandma called those "the lost - communicated with Bella and, she listened.

They didn't speak in sentences, of course - dead is still dead - but they spoke to her.

What the spirits showed Bella were choppy, short and, encrypted; feelings, smells, pictures, words, short phrases. Only coming to her with messages of great importance. The ones that kept them from resting.

The dead don't concern themselves with the trivial.

The second type of ghost Bella's powers could pick up was the "rested"; spirits with nothing weighing on them. The ones who lived on with those who carried them in their hearts, like Grandma with Charlie.

With the rested it was different.

When Bella came in contact with the loss she perceived what they were clinging to that held them back from equilibrium, they innately knew to reach out to her and, show her what was haunting them. The rested, on the other hand, are spirits who found their place in the afterlife; stability. When Bella came in contact with the rested, she touched their soul, their essence as opposed to their problems.

Bella had encountered some beautiful souls in her time, souls filled with love, ambition, optimism. She'd faced souls overcome by distrust or bitterness; souls who spent their afterlife in a constant state of unhappiness or discontent. And, they existed in that way because that was the state they spent their lives in, therefore, that is how they would spend their death.

It was all very poetic in Bella's opinion. Admittedly, it would've been even more endearing if Bella actually knew what she was doing with such knowledge.

Grandma Swan had tried to give Bella tips and advice on "channeling," as she called it when she was alive, but Bella was so young she hadn't been able to learn much. Most of the little bit she learned had already begun to fade away with time. And, as Bella got older her gift and her gift had only grown stronger, she'd grown more sensitive in turn.

It terrified her so much she was willing to move to her least favorite place on the planet, just to make things easier, and the bitterness that threatened to wrack over her because of that was overwhelming.

She didn't have the strength to keep it at bay.

Bella spent hours sobbing violently into her pillow – for 27A, for Jack Daniels, out of fear for school the next day, to mourn the normalcy she would never have – and, even once Bella was done she couldn't doze off. The continual whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof kept her up late into the hours of the night, wouldn't fade into the background.

It wasn't until well past midnight, once the rain slowed down to a quiet drizzle, that Bella finally fell into fitful slumber.

Thick fog was all Bella could see out the window in the morning, and with it, claustrophobia began to creep up on her. The sky was impossible to see through the thick haze. It was like a cage; a bad omen.

The day was already off to a depressing start.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished Bella good luck at school, she thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid her. Then he left, off to the police station that his entire life revolved around.

After Charlie left, Bella waited a bit before she headed out to start her day. She wanted to be early enough that she wouldn't be overwhelmed by those who were not amongst the living right off the bat, but she didn't want to be too early. The last thing she needed was to seem too over enthusiastic.

Bella sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and, ate her cereal slowly enough that by the time she was halfway through the bowl it was already soggy.

Finally, once it reached an acceptable time to leave for school, Bella prepared to head out; donning her rain jacket which, in her opinion, felt more like a biohazard suit then casual wear. As she stepped out the house she made sure to lock up with the key Charlie kept hidden under the plant.

Bella clambered into her new truck -Lady, she decided to call her – desperate to avoid the misty wet that swirled around her head and clung to the hair under her hood. The inside of the truck was wonderfully dry and Bella couldn't help her sigh of relief; even if the seats still smelled faintly of dust motes, gasoline, and peppermint.

Her relief grew tenfold when the engine started quickly, albeit loudly; roaring to life and then idling at top volume.

Bella didn't despair, a truck this old was bound to have flaws.

Plus it was free. Who was Bella to complain?

After less than ten minutes careful driving, Bella found the school; like most other important destinations in this sleepy town, it was just off the highway, though Bella didn't notice it at first. She almost passed it; only the sign which declares the collection of maroon colored buildings to be Forks High School stopped Bella in her tracks.

Where is the feel of the institution? She wondered nostalgically once she had parked the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. Where are the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?

Schools were meant to feel like prisons, not suburbs.

With that negativity in place, Bella, in a self-inflicted death march, headed toward the building, slipped into the warm, brightly lit room, and was promptly welcomed with the piercing, ear-splitting blare of a child's shrieks.

Bella face-planted in shock.

Somehow her hands, which had been reaching toward her head to cover her ears, reacted quickly to catch the fall.

"Oh my goodness! Are you okay?!" the witness to Bella's fall blubbered, leaning her speckled face over the desk unhelpfully.

Bella scrambled to her feet, face bright with mortification. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry, I tripped." As if the secretary didn't already know. "I came for my schedule." She rushed to inform her, anything to move past her inability to walk in a straight line.

The howls continued but, now that the shock factor had worn off, it wasn't as loud as she had thought: kind of like the ringing in someone's ears after listening to music too loud. It was annoying, faded, slightly alarming, and a bit uncomfortable - but, manageable.

"Oh!" Bella saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. "You're Isabella!"

Bella cringed, she knew it. The entire school population expected, her, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last.

"Just Bella," she pleaded. As she walked up to the red-haired woman.

"Of course," the secretary said, digging through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. 'Let me get your papers..."

Once the woman's attention shifted, Bella briefly allowed herself to delve into the kid's essence. The shrill wails pealed with impatience - a child in the midst of a tantrum. The boy had been very spoiled in his short life if he's spending the afterlife in a constant state of wanting something. It was hard, and a bit heartbreaking, to imagine that was this kid's version of "peace."

The boy didn't feel like a son or a son-like figure. There would be a stronger connection if he were; an underlying affection between the two of them that would be almost tangible to Bella. No… there was a connection between them but, not one of a mother and child. The secretary loved him immensely– if she didn't he wouldn't be living on through her – but, it was a different love. Strong yet, flexible.

A sibling, or a nephew, perhaps. If so a very close nephew.

The knowledge of this strangers loss pricked at Bella's heart, how awful, to lose someone so young. Granted, Bella had seen it a hundred times before, but it still wounded her regardless. Because of that, Bella began to concentrate on blocking the childlike spirit from her conscious as much as possible, relishing in the slow dwindling of his unhappy shrieks.

In her worry for what would come today, she had neglected to ensure that her wall was up and solidified around her mind. Usually, a rested spirit – especially one this young and, unfocused - shouldn't have been able to get through Bella's defenses. She had learned how to filter out the rested years ago; it wasn't even that difficult considering they were so passive.

Bella needed to step up her game.

"I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." The office lady haunted by Casper said, bringing several sheets to the counter to show her.

The secretary smiled at her and hoped, like Charlie, that she would like it here in Forks. Bella smiled back as convincingly as she could before, starting the trek to the building with her first class.

Bella's first-period teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identified him as Mr. Mason, actually gawked at Bella when he read her name off the slip. Gawked at her. Like a monkey in a zoo.

Fantastic.

Other than the gawking incident, English passed smoothly. Bella didn't have to introduce herself to the class and, no impromptu Caspers made a significant appearance. She, of course, felt the presences of spirits milling about, deep in her subconscious. Like balls of energy attached to her classmates, but none prodded into her mind. It seemed the small town ghost had nothing show. Good.

As soon as the bell rung, a gangly kid with acne and greasy hair as black as coal, slicked up the aisle to talk to Bella.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like he belonged in the mathletes. The energy of the beings around him was particularly weak, almost nonexistent. How refreshing.

"Bella," She corrected.

"Need help finding your next class? " he asked. Bella tentatively agreed, mostly out of politeness.

"I'm Eric," he beamed, looking at her as if they were already the best of friends. "If you wanna be on the front cover of the school newspaper, just let me know. I run it." The second bell rung, "Let's roll, new girl."

Well, alright then.

Bella later blamed that over-enthusiasm for making her think it would be a good idea to use herself as a butt to an albino joke.

Next thing Bella knew, it was lunchtime.

Her morning had passed by similarly to her first period – excluding her trig class where the teacher thought it was a good idea to have her introduce herself to her peers. After two classes, Bella started to recognize several of the faces in each class, along with the spirits around them. There were so little people in each class it was possible and easy to acknowledge the latent ghosts without actually having to fight them out of her body. That was new to her.

Surprisingly, in each class, there was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask Bella questions about how she was liking Forks. She tried to be enthusiastic, but mostly Bella just lied a lot.

At least she never needed the map.

It was with the girl who she'd seen more often than the others - a tiny, wild-haired girl with hazel eyes and large front teeth – that Bella walked to lunch with. She didn't pay any attention to the girl's prattle as they strolled through the damp.

Bella was starting to feel nauseous.

The cafeteria, an enclosed space with almost the entire student body crammed in it. It's been years seen Bella has had lunch in an actual cafeteria; since middle school, she'd been eating school meals at the library or a bench outside, alone. The idea of Bella trapped in such a relatively small place with so many others was horrifying. She needed solitude; it kept her sane.

Yet, she followed her new, nameless friend anyway. Bella didn't even want to imagine the type of rumors and, the upheaval that'd wrack the student body if the new girl disappeared during lunch. Dare she say there could even be a search party involved.

Once the daunting doors came into view and loomed over the two short girls, Bella panicked. She squeaked out a "wait!" before ducking down to readjust her boots.

The girl from Spanish asked a question that Bella couldn't hear. Bella was too busy doing something she avoided partaking in at all cost; she reached out with her sixth sense and lowered her defenses - just a smidge – to get an idea of what was going on behind those doors. Bella was careful to ensure she didn't connect with them; she only wanted to be able to see the spirits.

Bella imagined a tiny peephole in her shield, one that could be used to peek through but, not to bond. Bella was careful to ensure she didn't open herself up enough to channel them; she only wanted to be able to look at the entities, she had to keep that in mind.

The last thing Bella needed was another surprise like this morning.

Immediately, the energy of the dead fizzed and sparked around her; electrifying Bella in a way she still wasn't accustomed too. Bursts of sheer white, a mixture of every color in the rainbow plus an eight-color Bella had never been able to name, loitered about in the distant. None of them felt too strong, none of them crackled in a way that signified need, or desperation. They were all rested; they were all at peace, in their own ways.

She could do this.

The girl next to Bella was staring at her strangely once she rose from her position. Blood rushed to Bella's cheeks without permission.

"Uhh, are you done with your shoe?"

"Yeah?" It came out more as a question than a response. Bella cringed.

Jessica, Bella suddenly remembered her name was, didn't speak to her again on their way to a table.

Jessica led them at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to Bella despite her obvious reluctance. Bella forgot all their names as soon as Jessica spoke them and, they all burst into conversation; chattering away, unbothered.

Bella contributed here and there but mostly stayed quiet. She felt a little too heated like there was an electric undercurrent beneath her skin. The lingering effects of opening her mind's eye like that while still keeping them out unnerved Bella. It left her fingers tingling and, the hairs on her arm standing at attention.

Bella didn't mind too much, though. She was actually quite proud of herself. Here she was smack in the middle of a crowd of people, and those attached to them, not holding onto her sanity by a thread.

It was the same in the airport; smaller crowds, fewer presences, more control, sturdier defenses. Only a bit of a buzz and, a harmless twinge in her temple from the slight increase of pressure on Bella's mental barricade hinted at her abnormalness.

Bella might've not been happy in Forks, with its dreary countenance and perpetually damp air, but so far it's done wonders for her mental health. That was something.

So Bella relaxed; put any discomfort she was experiencing on the back burner and, with as much vigor as she could muster - which wasn't a lot even in her hopeful mood - conversed with these seven, curious, ordinary strangers.

And, that's when they came in.

A/N: Well, here it is! Chapter one! I hope those of you who read enjoyed it! Leave some comments please I'd love to here some feedback!

Thanks!

-PrettyLittleHeads