A/N

Ok. So, this is my first fic. Well, first anything, really. I come from visual arts, not written arts, so this is quite foreign to me. I thought I'd give it a shot, because I had a good time writing the side-shot on Rebelward Without a Cause (from Dead Confederates).

I have to give sloppy wet kisses to Tosh and Rie, because I never, ever, in a millions years would have done this without them. And thanks to Cartnee and Christina for pre-reading a bit as well.

Disclaimer: Not even remotely mine. SMeyer holds the keys to the kingdom, I'm just a visitor.

Prologue-The Rules

Ghost-Little Boots

Withdraw into your other world
I'm speaking but you do not hear a word
Glaze over colder than a lake
Frozen by our distances of late

It's clear as glass you smash
My apparitions melt before your eyes
My skull is full of dreams and nothing's as it seems
In the black air under the trees

Do you even know that I'm here? I might as well be a ghost
It's true, you walk right through me
Look in the mirror and you, you see nothing but yourself
It's true, I see right through you

It's true, you walk right through me
It's true, I see right through you

Blank pages surrounding your eyes
Overthrow the colors in your mind
Science has always been a liar
I can see you shiver in my fire

I'm falling like a snowflake
Catch me quick before I disappear
I'm fading like the sun
And soon as I'm gone everything will come undone

Do you even know that I'm here? I might as well be a ghost
It's true, you walk right through me
Look in the mirror and you, you see nothing but yourself
It's true, I see right through you

Do you even know that I'm here? I might as well be a ghost
It's true, you walk right through me
Look in the mirror and you, you see nothing but yourself
It's true, I see right through you

It's true, you walk right through me
It's true, I see right through you
It's true, you walk right through me
It's true, I see right through you

BPOV

Another school year came to a close, concluding the second year of my infatuation with Edward Cullen. Maybe infatuation was a bad term.

Attraction? No, that implies reciprocation, and he didn't even know I existed.

Crush? Perhaps. But a crush indicates having a feeling of love for another. I didn't--don't love Edward. It's true, don't scoff.

Obsession? No, too stalkerish. I didn't drive by his house late at night, hoping to catch a glimpse of his shadow on the curtain. I didn't actively seek out information on him, his whereabouts, or his goings-on (would I have passed up information freely offered, or gleaned second-hand? No. But I would never think about making it a point to discover those things). So, 'infatuation' it was.

No one could deny that he was really, really, ridiculously good-looking (Blue Steel was a regular occurrence with him), and he had an air about him that just screamed "I am cooler than you, for very good reasons, but I won't bother sharing them with you because I don't really need the validation". I had never even talked to him, never really had the opportunity to since we shared neither classes nor friends in common. I just admired from afar. Well, no, not admired. Hell, I suck at creating terms for things.

How about this: I liked to look at him. A lot. And frequently. I could not resist The Pretty. The boy was just too beautiful for his own good. But at the same time, it was a rugged pretty, with a strong jawline--when he forgot/neglected to shave, it sent me to the floor. Or maybe it was just my underoos that were on the floor--and heavy eyebrows that framed striking, expressive, green eyes. On top of all that was a mop of thick, messy, dark brown hair that glinted auburn in the sunlight. Obviously I've spent time looking at him. Who wouldn't? Don't pretend you wouldn't; nobody likes a liar!

But all of that tied up in a nice package, complete with a giant reddish-brown bow, led me to believe that underneath the shellac was just a pampered, conceited, self-involved model-in-waiting. I'd never heard or seen anything to prove contrary, and I just found it hard to believe that anybody could be that attractive and actually have redeeming qualities to boot. The universe would implode. So, it was easier to believe he was just another pretty (albeit very, very pretty) face and it was likely best if I just stayed away, as I am so very good at doing. It was something I had perfected the previous couple of years.

I resigned myself to this truth quite early on in the Pacific Northwest edition of my scholastic career. When I moved up to Forks, Washington from Phoenix right before my freshman year of high school, I quickly discovered that gossip was my friend. Being such a small town, it was very easy to learn about the inhabitants in a short amount of time. I had just enough time before school started to apprise myself of the local teenager scene, therefore preventing likely embarrassing scenarios of not knowing who I was 'allowed' to talk to, and who I was meant to avoid. Edward Cullen was one of those in the 'avoid' column, purely because he was completely out of my league.

There is no experience that trumps being the new kid. Of course, I had been here before, but only in spurts to visit my father Charlie. That time, it was meant to be permanent. Two years later, I was definitely still there, and Edward was unfailingly still making my heart sputter.

Honestly, it was starting to piss me off.

My head had accepted the fact that I would never be with him--hell, would probably never even speak with him! Why in the H-E-double-hockey-sticks couldn't my hormones glean onto this fact? It was utterly ridiculous. I could name a few reasons that it would be better for me in the long run if I never saw Edward Cullen, ever again. For one, there was the huge, glaring, neon sign that pointed to his girlfriend, Kate Denali, every time he walked near me. They had been together all through their sophomore and junior years, and looked likely to continue well into senior year and beyond.

They were the perfect pairing. He was pretty, she was pretty, it was just one big shiny, happy, pretty coupling. You'd think they were Moses, the way the other students parted when they walked down the halls. Junior Prom King and Queen? Check. I don't think anybody even ran against them.

Kate wasn't someone that you could compete against anyway. She had the face, the bangin' bod, and was truly a generally nice person. I should know; when they first started dating, I tried every way possible to hate her. 'Twas impossible. It's like when a kitten spears your finger with a claw; you want to hate them for it, but they are so fucking cute that you can't help yourself but coo and make goo-goo eyes at it.

Another roadblock was my complete inability to function like a human when he was around. It's as if he carried around an electromagnetic pulse generator that he randomly engaged, completely obliterating all common sense and propriety in any member of the female population. Ok, then again, perhaps it was just me turning into to a pile of mush. Don't judge. Even if I wanted to talk to him (which I didn't), he couldn't have a conversation with a pile of mush.

My biggest reason for not speaking with him was because I wanted to keep him as he was in my head--just something nice to look at. I didn't want to attempt to talk to him and have my suspicions validated; that he was a pompous, arrogant, conceited prick that would never deign to speak to the likes of a girl like me. Or the flip side, which could be even worse, have him prove to me that he was something more under that stunning visage. The last thing I needed was to fall for him. If that happened, you might as well hand me the gun and position my hand for utmost damage to my brain. Nothing quite like wanting someone that will never want you back. No thanks, I'll pass!

So let's recap, shall we? About three things I was absolutely positive.

First, Edward was too visually appealing to be a good guy. I just had to keep that in mind in case I ever actually interacted with him. Heaven forbid I actually start to like him in addition to lusting over him. I can't multi-task.

Second, there was a part of me—and I didn't know how dominant that part might be--that really wanted to find out what he was like under the GQ face. That would be the masochistic part.

And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in deep shit if I ever fell in love with him. Note to self: in the interest of self-preservation, don't ever fall for Edward Cullen.

a/n

Pop Culture references

Blue Steel: From the movie Zoolander. Signature pose "look" of title character, Derek Zoolander

Electromagnetic pulse (EMP): From multiple sources, but I got it from The Matrix. Wiki says this: It creates an electromagnetic field around itself, which disrupts electronic devices, causing them to shut down. All of Zions hovercraft carry devices capable of producing EMPs. The blast from an EMP is sufficient enough to disable any electrically-powered machine within its blast radius.

Moses: from the Bible. Parted the Red Seas to help the Hebrew slaves escape Egypt.

GQ: Gentlemen's Quarterly, a lovely magazine that happened to feature Rob Pattinson in their April 2009 issue. I keep a copy handy at work for moments of bliss.

So, if you liked this prologue, make sure to put this on story alert, and like any writer, I would love it if you would review. Even if it just says "I like this, update soon!" Yes, even those work. I will absolutely take constructive criticism. Notice the emphasis on constructive. Thanks for reading!