So your best friend is such a Twihard that she's convinced she was sucked into the book itself. But what would you do if the same thing happened to you? This regular girl wishes she had paid a little more attention "reading" Twilight when she finds herself stuck inside it as her less-than-favorite protagonist, Bella Swan! But it's alright, Bella doesn't get eaten in the first book. ……right?!

9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999

Disclaimer: In case you can't figure it out on your own, I don't own Twilight. PS: the sky is blue. Yes, I wish I owned Edward Cullen. Or, more specifically, his delicious 2007 Aston Martin Vanquish S………… *wipes drool off keyboard*

99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999

Preview: SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF THIS BOOK, I'M NOT ISABELLA SWAN!

99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999

Death to the Non-Believer

Chapter 1

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you in class tomorrow. Buh-bye" my phone snapped shut as I tossed it onto the bed behind me, rolling my eyes as I headed towards the bathroom. Flo had been a Twihard since she'd spent nine quality in-flight hours with the books, and over the last few weeks she'd been wearing even my colossal patience thin. It seemed like every other word out of her mouth was "Edward Cullen", not an easy feat considering how much she loved to talk. She'd even managed to get me to "read" the first book, though I still didn't quite understand her Cullen obsession.

But this was ridiculous even for HER. I'd believed her when she'd said that Stephenie Meyer's books were 'like, just the greatest ever!!', and that had clearly been a mistake. I certainly wasn't going to believe her down-the-rabbit-hole-and-back-again fantasies. I shook my head. This is what came of too much fanfiction and not enough sleep.

I turned the left knob on my sink (the hot and cold knobs were switched. I was always secretly hoping that my little brother would forget about it when he barricaded himself in my bathroom and cook his grubby hands a little). I wiped the mirror with a towel and stared, chuckling darkly. Flo wasn't the only one who needed sleep. With finals just around the corner, I was getting about as much shut-eye as Edward was getting tan. I ran tentative fingers over the dark circles under my green eyes and snorted. If Flo could see these, she'd clap her hands and say I looked like a Cullen.

I was so caught up in my own half-dead reflection that it took me some moments before I noticed the steady cloud of steam pouring up out of my sink.

"Shit." Had I turned the wrong knob? Had it been magically fixed while I was in class? I double-checked the handles and slipped cautious fingers beneath the tap.

Cold.

I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head to the side, steam still swirling around me, thicker than before. And then I felt it. A jerk in my stomach, like an invisible hand reaching through me and pulling me towards my reflection. My eyes flew wide, but my vision staggered and smeared, the world melting in front of me. It jerked again, stronger than before. I grabbed the counter, white-knuckled and woozy, fighting to retain consciousness, and failing. Another pull, another, another, each coming faster and more insistent than the last. The mist was pressing down on me from every direction, a dead weight squeezing over my entire body. Was I still holding onto the counter? My knees buckled. Darkness. There was a pop!, and-

99999999999999999999999999999999999

It hurt. It hurt. I rubbed my forehead and felt a throbbing lump pulsing just above my eyes.

"Shit." I hissed, gritting my teeth and trying to ignore the buzzing sound in my ears. There was an aching in my head and my gut, like I was going to throw up and pass out, but my body couldn't decide which to do first. But wait- I had already passed out, hadn't I? So was I… dead?

"Shhhit." My head was pounding. Was the afterlife supposed to be this painful?

"Are you with us, miss?" My eyes flew open, and took in all they could of the face floating inches away from my own. It glared at me, greasy and swollen. I could see that the words I'd mistaken for concern were clearly spoken in a last-warning frustration. I blinked, not sure what I'd done. He took in my blank stare for some minutes and then snorted incredulously into my face before swinging his massive form backwards and away from me. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding and looked around, mirroring the direction of the man's gaze as it came to rest on the occupant of a desk to my right.

"In that case, Jessica, perhaps you could enlighten us as to the functions of the hypotenuse in calculating the angles of a triangle using the trigonometric functions?" he raised an accusing eyebrow in my direction, and I frowned in response. I knew trig function crap. I did that in seventh grade for God's sake.

"You mean the answer wasn't 'shit' Mr. Varner?" some boy at the back of the class volunteered enthusiastically to the low snickering of his classmates. The Mr. Varner in question turned his attention to the boy, walking past me and out of my line of sight, much to my relief.

"Hardly, Mr. Devries, and while I do like students to participate, I would prefer that you limit your future contributions to school-appropriate vocabulary."

"But I thought Bella's always got the right answer." I turned in my seat to find this newest assailant glaring at my back, arms crossed, his left foot propped bouncing on his right knee as he sneered. "But I guess only I get in trouble for stuff like that in this class." His gaze left me to bore into the teacher's pouting face. Good, I thought to myself. His beef was with the teacher and anyone to that end, not with me specifically. But wait, hadn't he just called me-

"Report yourself to the disciplinary office, Mr. Devries, since you seem so desirous of spending more quality time in their care. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars." The students who had chuckled before grinned in spite of themselves as Varner glared the boy down. He looked like he wanted to add a few more choice comments, but instead he turned on his heel and strode back down the aisle toward the Jessica on my right. He flipped the book in his hand back open, resting it on the crook of his arm as he stopped in front of the terrified girl.

"Now then, if you would be so kind, Miss Stanley-"

BRRRRRIINNNNNGGGGG!!

I ducked my head to hide the broad smile that broke out at the chagrin on the teacher's face, which said clearly that he felt the bell had personally thwarted him. The class clamored with the sounds of books and folders being crammed hurriedly into bags before the students filed- or fled- out the door. I looked to my left and found an unclaimed stack of messy, bent-cornered notes and a folder with little hearts doodled in the corners. I stuck out my tongue before I could stop myself. Surely this wasn't mine. But hadn't that boy called me-

"Bella!" I turned to find the Jessica girl practically beaming at my side, one hand resting companionably on my shoulder. "Boy, what luck, right? I mean, for the bell to ring right at the exact minu- oh! Oh but I mean, it was awful what happened to you!" Her face morphed so quickly into a mask of concern that I half wanted to slap it to see if it would change again. I must have appeared unsatisfactorily cheered, because she turned the sweetness in her voice up a notch and she continued. "You know, that happened to me once before, right when we got back from Christmas break last year, in January I mean. I fell asleep in class too. But I didn't bang my head against the desk like that!" She giggled before she could stop herself. "I mean, that thonk was just terrible! Oh, look, you have a little bump, poor thing. No wonder you were swearing like that!" she rubbed cool fingers against my throbbing forehead and frowned contemplatively, thinking about it. Her face suddenly changed again, and she giggled. "But I was still a little surprised. You know? Oh, poor Bella, so accident-prone!"

A scraping chair on the other side of the room brought her attention back to the clock. She slapped her cheeks in not-so-mock drama. "Oh, gosh! We're going to be late for Spanish!" she said, flustered. She struck me as the type that said 'oh, gosh!' a lot. I followed her swift shuffle out of the room - off to Spanish, wherever that was. Wherever I was. But I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that was telling me I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

I walked purposely behind her and prayed she wouldn't turn around and ask me something on the way to - as I'd feared- building number six. We passed a banner hanging brightly across the gym, with "FIGHT ON, FORKIANS!" scrawled in yellow spray paint. I grimaced at the snow crunching beneath my feet and couldn't suppress the shudder that ran down my spine. Snow I was fine with, but Forks was something else entirely.

99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999