AN: I don't claim the characters, but I'll stake claim to my dh. Big love to Melissa223 for the eyes and to hmonster4 for returning the favor.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere, Signs.

BPOV

I really wanted to play hooky. I wanted to turn off the alarm and let myself slip back into dreamland. I wanted to stay in bed until nearly noon, only getting up when I finally needed to eat. I wanted to spend the afternoon surfing through mindless tv shows, reading a smut novel, or catching a matinee. I wanted to, but I wouldn't. I never play hooky. Ever. The temptation was so strong this morning though.

You know how whenever there is a plane crash or a natural disaster, there's always someone on the news who was supposed to be on that plane or in the path of the tornado, but they had some supernatural feeling. They give up nonrefundable seats. They take a completely different route to work because this intuition told them to.

Something was telling me not to get out of bed. I may not be getting on a plane today, but I was going down all the same. So, I should have torn up my ticket and stayed home.

But I never play hooky. Ever. So, I still turned off the alarm, but instead of rolling over and closing my eyes again like I wanted, like my instincts told me I should, I sat up slowly and focused on the room around me.

My studio apartment wasn't much, but it was mine. I was mostly just relieved to be out of the wretched dorm. Too much estrogen in one place. For two years, I waited for all those girls to start growing up, to stop giggling at the very thought of a boy, to support rather than sabotage each other, to simply become women. Even Pavlov's dogs were capable of learning through conditioned response. Couldn't these women learn that if they played the same games, made the same mistakes, the outcome would be the same?

I rarely fit in with other females. I just couldn't bring myself to care about things like hair and fashion. I never wanted to cut another woman down just because she was prettier than I.

When I finally realized my waiting was in vain, I started looking for a place of my own. With no roommate, and no budget, my choices were limited.

I suppose all the giggly girls would turn their noses up at my studio, no bigger than a dorm room, but it was mine. One room served as bedroom, living room, and kitchenette. There was bathroom in the hall I shared with two other studios on this floor. That was no different than my dorm really.

The place was pretty run down and not in the best neighborhood, but I learned that if you just acted like you belong somewhere, people tended to leave you alone. I suppose if they knew you lived here, they knew you don't have anything worth hassling you over.

I spent the last year trying to make as many improvements as I could. I combed thrift shops for pictures and curtains. I'm not sure I did much good; the place still looked small and shabby, but I never did have much style. I settled on a green color scheme, an inside joke. Green reminded me of home only I had no desire to return.

There was a time when I never wanted to leave Forks, WA. I call them my lucky years. Sophomore year through graduation. It seemed no matter what I did, things just worked in my favor. It's not that my life was destitute before that. In fact, middle school turned out much better than I was expecting, despite the Mean Girl extraordinaire. If I am the superhero of my own tale, then surely Lauren Mallory is my nemesis.

When I watched movies where the main character is teased, tormented, and tortured by a bully, and it seems so unfair I almost wanted to stop watching because I could always identify. I have no idea what I did to Lauren. None. We hadn't attended the same elementary school, so I didn't even meet her until middle school. She wasn't exactly academically gifted—read dumb, but I hate to be petty—so I didn't have any of my accelerated classes with her, but as luck would have it, they don't distinguish people based on intelligence or ability for P.E.

I was absolutely terrible in P.E. I'm such a klutz, complete with no hand-eye coordination. The great comic book writers in the sky must have found the gym the perfect setting for Bella, the super hero to meet her nemesis. Gym was my kryptonite. I had no power there.

XxXxXxXx

I quietly changed in a corner of the locker room, trying to be as invisible as possible, while the other girls laughed and chatted. I didn't take note of anyone until I heard the bang of a locker closing near me.

"Well I guess this will have to do," the girl announced. I glanced up to see her wearing a gym uniform that was supposed to be exactly like mine, but she made some alterations. First off, I think she bought the shorts intentionally two sizes too small. Then she had tied the t-shirt into a knot at her side so that it was stretched tightly. It reminded me a fitted sheet. You know how they are always just a bit too small, and you spend 20 minutes trying to get each side to stay put because you've stretched it as far as you could. She was smart enough to know she couldn't get away too much skin, so there was just a small gap between the top of her shorts, and the bottom of her shirt, just enough to reveal the smallest hint of hot pink lace.

I turned away quickly because I sure as hell didn't want to get caught staring at another girl in the gym room locker. Even then I welcomed all sexual orientations, but I knew damned well that I might not live down that kind of reputation, especially if flaunted by the girl with the hot pink lace, until I moved away for college.

Maybe I would have been better off as the dyke with wandering locker room eyes. Maybe she would have thought me gross and left me alone. Instead, she turned toward me, and asked, "What do you think? Do you want to work on your uniform too?"

"Uh, are you talking to me?"

"Yeah," she said with a voice that typically accompanied rolling eyes.

"No, I don't really need to call attention o myself in there. It's not going to be pretty." I said it quickly, hoping she would leave me alone.

"I don't know about gym being pretty, but I think you're too pretty to wear that t-shirt. Did they only have the XL left at JC Penney?" I couldn't tell if she was laughing at me or with me yet. Her eyes looked friendly enough.

"I like big shirts." I shrugged.

"Well you must love that one then. Hi, I'm Alice," and she stuck out her hand. I hesitated, probably looking like the social misfit I was before meeting her gesture. I figured it was safe to look at her now. She was almost too cute. I hadn't notice just how tiny she was. Her dark hair was short and styled to stick out in exactly the right places.

"Bella," I replied simply. I half expected to see fairy dust on my hand when I pulled away. I reflected on our differences. I was small too but not diminutive like she was. My hair was just brown compared to her shiny raven color. She stood out; I blended. I couldn't imagine what we would have in common.

"I guess we should go face my personal hell," she sighed.

"Your personal hell? Something tells me you won't have a problem in there."

"Oh heavens, no. I can handle the class, but whomever thought that making me get all sweaty in the middle of the day and then having to make myself look presentable in a matter of minutes was a good idea should really be tortured slowly and painfully."

I couldn't help it. I giggled. I still wasn't sure I wanted her for a friend, but I guess she couldn't be all bad if we shared a hatred of P.E. so I decided to let go, and like the little lambs we were, we followed the mewing and bleating prepubescent girls to the bleachers.

It started before I even sat down. Alice was headed toward the top bleacher. She was graceful as she practically hopped her way to her destination. I should have seen it coming, but of course, I tripped. I was about halfway up the incline when my foot just didn't make it to the next bleacher level. I caught myself from whacking my chin on the next bleacher up. I can't imagine that would have been good, but I ended up bumping into the girl just to the right of me. "Oops. Oh gosh, I'm sorry."

The girl just sort of smiled at me. She seemed sweet, cute, and harmless. So, I turned to continue my ascent. I was surprised when the next thing I heard was, "What a flipping moron. Jess, do you think she tripped over her shirt since it's down to her ankles." I must have looked confused when I looked back at the girl. Her eyes didn't look any less cute, sweet, or harmless than they had a second ago. I was going to let it go, when a small movement next to the girl caught my attention.

Perhaps the lighting in the room got lower, and the soundtrack of my life played a discordant melody. Perhaps, everyone uttered a small gasp. I'll never know. All I know is that when I saw the adjacent girl, I knew that she was not sweet, cute, or harmless. I couldn't look away for some reason. She glared for a moment, then raised one eyebrow, smirked, and said, "Are you in the special classes?"

I was simply speechless so I knew it wasn't my voice that sang, "Oh sorry, Lauren, but no, Bella won't be joining you on the short bus after school."

There was a round of chuckling nearby as Alice, my new savior, swiftly tapped my arm to lead me away.

Thanks to Alice, middle school wasn't so bad. It turns out she was a bit of a freak herself. We were both just out of time in a way. We were old for our years but in different ways. Alice's confidence was inspiring. She didn't care what people thought of her. She reminded me a little of Molly Ringwald in Pretty in Pink. She had a crazy fashion sense that worked for her. She didn't come from a lot of money either, but she was so resourceful and creative. I, on the other hand, was like the old spinster, the fuddy duddy. I just didn't care about the monumentally mundane life of middle school. I knew I was above it, but I still let them get to me. Alice worked tirelessly to get me to ignore all of Lauren's jabs and jokes.

People grow up and apart though. When we left middle school for high school, there were more people, more freaks, more opportunities for friends. My friendship with Alice waned.

It wasn't anything in particular. At least I don't think so. Maybe she was sick of my moping or my lack of self esteem. Maybe she didn't want to be my cheerleader anymore. She never complained, so I'll never know. She started hanging out with Rosalie Hale. There are not words to describe how perfect Rosalie was. She intimidated the hell out of me. The few times Alice tried to get us all together, I just felt out of my league with them. They looked good; they were young women on the verge of something, ready to take on anything that came their way. I was . . . Bella. Boring. On the verge of average. That's how I saw it anyway. We saw each other less and less.

I never blamed Alice. I probably would have picked Rosalie over me if I had a choice.

So things changed. And they didn't. Lauren still hated me for no reason. She took every opportunity she could to start a rumor. She even tripped me once. As if I don't fall on my own often enough. Sophomore year. First day. There was an assembly of some sort. I don't remember really. Probably a "let's start the year off right and oh yeah, don't drink, smoke, do drugs, or have sex" lecture. I hated assemblies because I always walked in alone and had to look for a seat by itself. If there were empty seats near me, people always wanted me to move to make room for their friends. I saw one lone seat in row H on the right. I glanced at the row to see if I would get any grief, but that row was filled with other freaks. So I made a beeline. Then I was clotheslined. Well not exactly, but I know she stuck her little heeled boot out because I saw it in her sneer. She was gloating when I fell forward. My book bag spilled. I heard guffaws all around me. I wanted to cry. But as my eyes filled with moisture, I kept my head low. I would not let her see. Would she never tire of this? I started gathering my things, knowing the people around her would never help me pick anything up. I was cramming my books and pens haphazardly in my bad when a quiet voice from behind said, "Here, I think you missed this one."

I turned and saw him. New kids never looked like this in the movies. He almost deserved a capital H on the Him. He was godlike. He had boyish beauty and manly maturity at the same time. His hair was amazing. It took everything I had not to touch it right then. It was messy, but the kind of messy that was probably intentional. It was not red or brown but bronze? I would have to pick up an extra large box of crayolas later in order to have a name for that hair. His green eyes smiled at me, but he didn't say another word.

A sense of foreboding hit me fast. The hero only had two minutes to stop the bomb from going off. There was no time to take in the boy standing in front of me. 1:30 I had to stop the bomb. 1:00 So, I grabbed the book without a word. :30 I paused. I knew I should say something. But I was too late. Boom.

"Stupid bitch can't even say thank you. Guess they don't teach the 'special ones' how to talk to boys," Lauren growled. I walked away as more laughter erupted.

That was the last time Lauren tortured me without facing retribution.

I sometimes think Edward Cullen must have been some sort of good luck charm because from the day he arrived, life just got better. It wasn't just our friendship because that didn't happen for months. It was everything else. If I liked a guy, he ended up asking me out. If I was doing poorly in a class, suddenly the next assignment would fit all of my strengths. If another girl were giving me the evil eye, she would face some sort of public humiliation later that day.

That was my favorite.

Call me shallow, but seeing Lauren Mallory publicly humiliated always had me grinning.

I'm not really sure what to call Edward. All buzzed up one night, we coined ourselves secret bff's and giggled like 3rd graders. Now that I think about it that fits better than anything else. I don't even know that I could give a solid reason why we kept our friendship a secret. It wasn't that we weren't friendly in public, but no one knew the depth of our relationship. Maybe we didn't either.

In any case, not a single person in Forks had a clue that Edward and I were the very best of friends, sharing our innermost secrets and desires and discussing topics only the closest of girlfriends would dare approach. To my knowledge, not a single person anywhere apart from Edward knows we are even friends.

XxXxXxXxXx

Starting the day by thinking of Lauren Mallory and my life in Forks was a second very bad sign. The third bad sign came when I discovered. I ran out of coffee filters but forgot to pick them up yesterday. Bad sign number four came in the bathroom. Clearly my neighbor Jane had "done her business." Even worse, she let the water run while taking care of said business, and now the hot water was gone. I think she was afraid someone would overhear grunting or something.

There were so many reasons for me not to leave the house today. But I never play hooky. Ever. So, I grabbed my coat and headed for the bus. I missed a step and fell down four steps. I hobbled outside to discover it had started raining since I last looked out the window. I live in flipping Phoenix. It never rains. I don't even own an umbrella. Shit. Stupid coffee filters. Stupid umbrella. I hurried to the bus stop hoping to take shelter, but it was packed, so I stood outside, in the rain, knowing it was going to be a very bad day.