1. First Sight

So this was it. The end.

Glancing up at my mom, I felt a pang of guilt leaving her side – but knew it had to be done. Her and Phil needed the privacy. Needed the freedom of not having a Junior in high school contaminating their existence. Chilly Forks, Washington was the end of this journey, from the rather sweaty Phoenix, Arizona. Though it was an amazingly beautiful small town – it was dull – especially compared to the busy city I was currently (strike that…previously) living in. Not to mention cold. I seriously loved Phoenix’s scorching heat. This transition was going to kill me. At least it was for a good cause.

Shattering the thoughts that were bouncing around my head, my Mom – Renee – cleared her throat slightly, before deciding to delve into a debate she knew she couldn’t win, "Bella…You don't have to do this."
Oh yes, yes I did.
"I want to go," was my alibi. I hadn’t informed her of my discomfort of living with both her and Phil. The fact that I felt like an intrusion upon their happy little lives. No, my mom just thought I suddenly wanted to go live with my dad in Forks, Washington – where I had been spending a month my Summers since I was fourteen.
"Tell Charlie I said hi."
Like I’d remember that after a long flight.
"I will.”
I wouldn’t. And didn’t.
"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want — I'll come
right back as soon as you need me."
"Don't worry about me," the most ironic words I have ever spoken in my entire life, "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

Within the hour, I ended up in the isle seat on the way to Forks, Washington. I don’t know why, but the entire trip I kept attempting to reassure myself. New people. New best friends. New places. New times. Maybe Forks wouldn’t be so bad. As long as it didn’t run away with the Spoon. Alright, bad pun. And wasn’t that the Dish? Hey Diddle Diddle…

Not wishing to make awkward conversation with the honestly slightly disturbing and menacing people around me, I played opossum, pretending to be asleep until the wheels touched down in Seattle, so I could change planes without someone picking me up and moving there manually…though that would be cool. I would definitely not complain. Maybe be a bit weirded out...but not complain. My second flight wasn’t half as bad, dwarfed by the four hour Phoenix-to-Arizona flight, which preceded it. I managed to end up in a conversation with the guy next to me, who seemed determined to strike up the liveliness within the plane. The guy was probably in his mid-to-late-thirties. Sort of looked like the type to work with my dad – though I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I didn’t mind talking to him, since he had that yummy ‘adventurous’ look and vibe to him…even if he wasn’t that much younger than my parents. Eh…I can enjoy the view, can’t I? Art appreciation.

The plane landed with a world record of only three people tossing their oh-so-precious cookies into their handy-dandy barf-bags. Better than the first flight - when a baby basically turned into one of those spinning sprinkles – though that definitely wasn’t water that was flying out of it.

After I managed to gather my meager possessions, I finally set eyes on ol’ Charlie – er…my dad. I never really thought of him with that “title”, thanks to my mom running away from Forks and him a long time ago. I was just a bump in her tummy at the time. Charlie was just some guy I’d sometimes visit during the summer. More like a weird Uncle than father, to be quite honest.

He was waiting for me in his cruiser, thanks to his title of ‘Police Chief of Forks, Washington.’ Did people even commit crime in this sunless, small town? Maybe he just busted kids for not helping old ladies cross the street…ha. Probably.

Mirroring my ‘weird Uncle’ feelings for Charlie, he gave me a lovely one-armed hug, before he threw my crap into his police cruiser, and we set off for Sporks…I mean Forks.

The silence in the car was nice…but Charlie felt the need to pop my happiness.
"It's good to see you, Bells…You haven't changed much. How's Renée?"
"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad,” I replied, forgetting to tell him that Mom said ‘hi’…not that he cared. Or maybe he would care too much.
"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he continued, suddenly catching my attention with something more than pleasantries.
"What kind of car?" I asked – simply curious. I wasn’t about to throw a tantrum if it wasn’t a Ford GT with racing stripes…though I wouldn’t complain if it was. However, he was a cop. Probably a used Prius. The Ninja Car (for it was silent) probably couldn’t even break sixty…though I recall some big-name’s son being busted for speeding in a Prius. Maybe he was speeding it up Flinstones style, with his feet through the bottom of the car? Breaking that way would hurt though. Probably burn off his little penny-loafers. Haha.
"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."
That’s unexpected.
"Where did you find it?" I was making it sound like he had found some strange creature, probably because the flight had messed with my common sense.
"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?"
Ah, La Push. Not to be confused with Le Push or Les Push (yes, a French joke), was a little Indian Reserve that was right by Sporks.
"No," I really didn’t.
"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie baited me, attempting to prod my lost childhood memories.
"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie reported, causing me to instantly frown, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."
Well, that was uplifting. I nervously forced a thin strand of hair behind my ear as I gazed at the darkening gray sky.
"What year is it?" I tried to change the subject away from the fact that one of his friends was now confined to a wheelchair, as I turned my head to actually attempt eye contact while we talk. I know – what a concept.
"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years old, really."
Alright…so I have a car. It’s apparently a dinosaur, but at least I’m mobile. But I had to ask, "When did he buy it?"
"He bought it in 1984, I think."
Great Scott! That’s old. Older than me. Wait…does that mean the Charlie thinks I’m less than a few years old?
Wait a second, "Did he buy it new?"
"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest…”
Oh, Good Lord. My mouth actually fell open, much to my embarrassment. With that age, wasn’t it considered a classic – therefore not suitable for me to drive around this sleeply little town? You’d think a cop would put me in a rectangle of bubble wrap with wheels!
"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…"
Being self-centered? Yes. But I had been on an airplane all day. So, ha.
"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."
Yeah…there was a reason for that. Though – as I said before. I’m mobile.
"How cheap is cheap?" I was just curious. I did have a budget.
"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift."
Actual eye-contact was made. And he looked hopeful. It was tempting to call him Daddy, and make him a thank you card out of construction paper and crayons.
Too bad I had neither on hand, and I don’t know if he could handle me calling him ‘Daddy’, "You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."
"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here.”
The eye contact was now gone. He just didn’t want me to run away like Mom. Way to make me feel sorry for you, Charlie.
"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it."
Truthful words. Sporks – as I decided I was going to refer to it from now on – was already not looking so bad. Charlie being nice. Awkward, yes, but sweet, nonetheless. Not to mention – I got a free truck. A free truck. So what if it was old enough to be my parent?
"Well, now, you're welcome," he replied, weird-Uncle-style, apparently not expecting my genuine thanks, as we pulled in front of his humble abode. How was he expecting me to react? Just take the keys, drive to a random boy’s house, and do things that would make him mad? Pfft. He underestimates my antisocialness. People are fun…in small bites.

Entering the house, I gasped – nearly dropping my backpack at the sight. It hadn’t changed at all. Wow, Charlie. Just wow. Quick to recover, I walked up the steps – with Charlie in my wake (who had apparently not noticed my extreme reaction to…literally nothing) dumping my crap into my once-vacation-room. It was simple, small, but had rather large windows, which revealed the ‘mystical’ forest, yonder. Plus, if I craned my neck, I could see the driveway. A great way to track Charlie, without having to leave my room.

Casting me a nervous smile, he set my two suitcases by my bed, patting my back slightly, before drifting back into the main body of the house, pausing at my door, much to my surprise.
“Get yourself settled in, Bells – just call if you need any help. I’ll be downstairs,” he kindly stated – a strange, almost grateful tone to his voice. Aw – Daddy was happy to have me here. A construction-paper-crayon-card was definitely in order.
“Thanks Dad,” I smiled, suddenly remembering that ‘Mom says hi,’ but held my tongue. I really saw no need for that little tad of information. Had she ever heard of a phone? Or email?

Finding myself left alone in my simple room, I opened my backpack, in all honesty not wanting to unpack just yet. Retrieving a brush from my things, I walked over to the mirror atop my dresser, finding myself surprised for the second time today. I looked like hell. A day of traveling would do that, but I looked even worse then I expected. Almost sickly. Bleh. Running a brush through my hair, I purposely fluffed it so it covered my face – my cinnamon eyes only visible thanks to the dim light coming through the window. Rearranging my locks so they lay upon my shoulders, I leaned forward towards the mirror – examining the little red lines that appeared to be like little tentacles – slowly reaching for my iris.

With a yawn, I straightened my back, leaning my head to the side as the diffused light from my window appeared to give my pale skin a ghostly glow. Even though I had lived in the blistering heat of Phoenix, Arizona…I appeared to have lived in the artic my life. Or a cave. There was even an albino kid back in Phoenix. We compared skin. It was hard to tell the difference. At least he had amazingly light blue eyes and naturally icy blonde hair. I appeared to be a confused Goth kid. Another one of my friends tried to go tanning with me. I have never gone through so many tubes of aloe in my entire life. But at least I tried, eh?

Leaving my brush atop my dresser, I wandered over to the window, hovering my hand over the glass to test the temperature outside. Burr. I took a deep breath, before throwing both my suitcases upon my bed, unzipping each bag and flopping it open. Oh boy.

Surprisingly, within the hour I was slowly wandering down the stairs, searching for Charlie. I even looked up once. That was an odd habit I had since I read it in one of my favorite books, ‘no one ever looks up.’ Being barely a teen at the time, I took this notion to heart – always looking up whenever I was looking for someone or something. It actually worked about five times. Ha.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad,” I called, treating my search for Charlie, like looking for a skittish cat, “Where arrrrrrrrrrre youuuuuuuuu?”

After more coaxing, I finally found him outside, making friends with my new truck.
------------------------
That night I slept…decent. Just as I would have slept in a hotel. My brain kept popping me awake, since if my eyes flickered open to scan the room to make sure I wasn’t about to be eaten by a mutant lava duck (inside joke from Phoenix) I would automatically be forced awake, since it was all so alien.

By the time morning had hit, I had enough sleep. Sure – I was tired…but the amount of sleep I needed in order to not be tired in the morning wasn’t human. I could just sleep and sleep…

After a brief trip to the shared bathroom, I stared at my wardrobe. Alright. It was my first impression on a bunch of critical teenagers. No pressure at all. Meep. Did I go for what they expected from some chick that just moved from Phoenix? Freeze my ass off in shorts and a tank – but look the role. No. Sorry – I hate being cold. But – would they think less of me because I’m trying to blend in? ‘Eff. You know what? I don’t care. Screw them. Screw them all! MUAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Alright – maniacal laughter. Probably not the best first impression. Note to self – keep that in head. So, deciding to dress for comfort, rather than being over analytical and attempting to read all their minds so they all automatically don’t hate me, I slid on jeans, a capped-sleeved-t-shirt (that’s a lot of hyphens) with an evil smiley face on it, and my old and worn pair of Converse, I finally headed down stairs, shivering as I already felt the chill from outside. Right – I needed a jacket. Grabbing a gray zip-up hoodie, I smiled at my dad, who was sitting at the dining table, drinking coffee and reading the morning paper.

“Mornin’ Bells,” he greeted, obviously analyzing what I was wearing to school. No Charlie, I’m not a skanky hoe.
“Hey dad,” I greeted back – my voice higher thanks to my on-edge-nerves, as I grabbed a box of cereal, opening the top to examine the contents.
“Uh Bells – I wouldn’t eat that…”
I was already making a disturbed face as I stared into the depths of the box.
“Wha…what…” I was at a loss for words.
“I bought that awhile ago…”
I was making coughing-gagging noises now.
“…and I didn’t throw it away when it passed the date…”
I was pushing the box away from me, staring at it as if it were some possessed creature.
“…never got around to it…”

I glanced up at him, as my stomach grumbled, frowning.
“Here Bells,” he got up, raiding the fridge for a white carton of eggs.

Oh God. Charlie cooking.
Can I go hungry, please?
“No Dad – it’s fine…” I attempted to steal the skillet and two white eggs away from him. Charlie – being both a cop and quite a bit larger than me – managed to keep control of the cooking utensils. And he was laughing.
“Sit down, kiddo,” he smiled – his warm demeanor completely throwing me for a loop.

I sat – defeated – wishing the clock would go faster. I had only managed to survive a few Summers in Forks, thanks to the fact I would do all the cooking. Charlie was a terrible Chef. But…that didn’t smell like burning. Always a good sign.

As two scrambled eggs were spread in front of me – a proud grin across his face – I gasped. He thought I was being over dramatic. I wasn’t.
“DAD!” I exclaimed, glancing up at him, “You…cooked!”
“Oh now,” his voice lowering with the flattery, “I may have…practiced a bit when I heard you were coming to live with me,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. I loved when guys did that. It was like a big neon sign saying, “HEY I’M NERVOUS =D” complete with the smiley face. I don’t know why mostly guys did it. I never saw a girl do it before – but every time I made a gender-assumption like that, someone simply magically appears and makes me feel like a sexist.

After a surprisingly good breakfast, I looked up at the time.
“Oh – I should go…”
Charlie followed my line of vision to the Felix-the-Cat-creeper-clock on the wall.
“Oh damn…I mean darn. Would you like a ride on your first day?”
I smiled on how he censored himself. If he only heard what came out of the mouths of the high school kids back in Phoenix…
Did people swear in Sporks?
“Oh – I thought I’d drive the Beast,” meaning my epic truck, “Don’t want to be a bother.”
“Alright…well. Good luck with your day. Forks kids are pretty well mannered…from an adult perspective, anyway,” he smiled, kissing me on the forehead before a left. Aw – daddy.
“Thanks Dad – see ya later. Have a good day!”

Sitting down in the truck, I groped the wheel, before sliding the key in and setting forth the wrath that was the Beast. The low growl made me smile…until it hit me.
Ha…which way is school?

Rolling my lips in, I jumped as there was a knocking on my window. Ah. Charlie.
I grabbed the lever and rotated it over and over again, until the pane of glass was below my eye-level.
“You have no idea where you’re going,” he smiled, his voice hardly audible over the roar of the engine, causing me to kill the Beast.
“No…No I don’t.”

There was a pause, before he pulled open my door and motioned me towards his Cruiser. Oh…and he was holding my backpack. Today I was not on a roll.
Petting my head like a kid, he threw my stuff into the passenger seat, leaving the door open for my entrance.

As we started on our way, I couldn’t help but look over at Charlie. He was so different from those summers. He almost felt like a Dad. Scary.
“..and no, I won’t bring up this one morning to haunt you again,” he vowed, glancing over at me.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”

As we pulled up to…whoa – was that a school? A relaxed but perplexed expression spread across my face as I looked at what appeared to be a quaint housing complex, with a misplaced ‘Forks High School’ sign in front of it.
“This is…different,” I admitted, not exactly negatively.
“The main office is the first building behind the sign. A nice lady in there will give you your schedule – I’m sure someone will see you’re new a give you a hand,” he messed up my hair again. I’m glad I wasn’t one of those girls that was OCD about my own hair.
“Alright – bye Dad.”

And just like that, I was abandoned in a scary place.
Ehhh…
MOM!

No – deep breath.
Just remember – this won’t kill me. Just…go in. Talk to the lady that in my head looked just like the one from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off – complete with the red beehive. Ah – I love my head. I wonder if the Dean was like the one from that movie too? Oh – and I wonder if a Ferris Bueller lurked in Forks? Yum.

With my own mental distraction, I ended up in the main office – a woman that wasn’t too far off from what I pictured, sitting behind the desk.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh!” she smiled, clapping her hands together, “A spitting image of Charlie!”
I hate small towns.
“Little Isabella Swan! I have your schedule right here!”
She handed it to me, as I attempted to not look disgusted.
“Um…where is all of this?” I asked, seeing a random assortment of numbers.
“Well, hun,” she flipped over the piece of paper in my hand, showing me a map of the school, “There you go.”

And suddenly I was standing outside, staring into a small mass of people that was probably the entire population of the school. And…they were watching me. Like a pack of hungry wolves, their beady eyes stared in fascination.

Ehhhhhhh…
Is it too late to say, “No Mom – you’re right! I’ll stay in ‘EFFING PHOENIX?!”

Attempting to slide past them and to my first period, I nearly lost my footing on the increasingly-slippery ground just outside the office, causing a boy from the group to reach out and halt my embarrassment.
“Whoa there,” he smiled, hauling me to my feet, as his friends continued their voyage into the school, “No need to break your face before you’ve even started.”
Finally balanced, I raised my vision to meet his. Yay – he wasn’t creepy. Blondish hair. Looked a bit sporty. A jock, probably…if they had that species of teen here, that is.
“Oh, hi…and thanks,” I smiled, as he continued to walk with me towards the building, “I’m—“
“The daughter of the Police Chief, right? Is-a-bell-a,” he smiled, apparently enjoying breaking my name apart into little pieces.
“Bella,” I corrected, a bit creeped out on how everyone already knew my name, “And you are--?”
“Mike. Mike Newton,” he inclined his head, before grabbing my map and schedule out of my hands, as we entered the main building, “Ah – we don’t have first period together, but we’ve got a few others,” he reported, managing to annoy me, yet slightly charm me at the same time, “You want the room just down the hall,” he pointed and managed to flex at the same time. Wow. Pointing and flexing…special.

And suddenly he stopped walking, still holding my schedule…so I had to stop too.
“Why aren’t we moving that way anymore?” I asked, honestly a bit eager to just get in there and sit. Enough of this dawdling.
“So…Bella…”
Oh Lord.
“What?” I was being nice because he was holding my schedule, and I wasn’t about to make an unfriend, just because I wasn’t in the mood for people.
“What do you think of Forks so far? Do you like it? Not like it? Miss home?”
Oh whoa there. He was starting to act like a clingy puppy. If I only had a ball…
“Uh…it’s there,” I offhandedly commented, attempting to act nonchalant, as people continued to walk past and stare.
“Oh…alright,” he replied, sounding very depressed and defeated, for whatever reason, before motioning to where my first class was, “I’ll see you around here after first period, to make sure you don’t slip again,” he teased, attempting to be sly with a wink, before he disappeared with the sound of the bell.

Maybe I would like him better after I had a dose of the other residents of Sporks.

Walking up to the teacher, I explained my predicament, and introduced myself…which quickly was interrupted by the usage of my full name, and asking how my father was. Dear God – was Charlie really this popular?
When that was all squared away, I set myself down in a seat away from the current residents of the classroom…because, apparently in Sproks, ‘assigned seating’ is a lost art.

I went through my bag for…well nothing really. I was just trying to look busy, as the locals gawked at my newness. One of them was even ballsy enough to sit next to me, greeting me with a warm smile.
“Hi there,” she greeted, as another sat in front of me – quickly turning one-eighty, so he could face me.
“Hey…I’m B—“
“Charlie’s kid!” the child in front of me interrupted, causing the girl to shoot him an angry glare. I liked her already.
“—ella,” I finished, causing the girl’s eyes to relocate to my face – her warm smile resuming.
“Cool, I’m Angela,” she introduced, “Welcome to Forks, and goodluck today.”

And just like that, class started. I liked Angela. No questions. To the point…yet her creepy friend was annoying me. I didn’t even know his name – though a peek around his shoulder revealed the name ‘Erik’ messily written on a piece of paper that was on his desk. Even if that wasn’t his name, he was now Erik. Ha.

The teacher – whom I realized didn’t know the name or subject-concentration of, did a flippy-trick with a book, causing my wandering hand to drop my schedule back into my bag. This was English. With Mr. Bob. I think I may be in love with his name.

Bell went ‘drrrrrrinnnnnnggg’ – that horrible screeching hell-fire-banshee-noise, which allowed us to leave our current room and head for another period. True to his word, Mike was right outside, greeting Angela with a ‘hand razzing’ of her hair. She giggled, making me wonder if that was some sort of ‘Forks thing’. Whatever.

They both walked with me to my next period – Angela departing when her door drew near. As we entered the history classroom (this time I checked), the teacher waved, like he knew me, and ran over to greet me.

I seriously hate small towns.
“Ohhhhhhh how little Izzy-Bwella has gwoan!” he called to me in a baby voice, causing Mike to crack up. I discreetly hit him.
“Um…” was all I managed to say, as the teacher danced a bit, realizing I was in his class.
“Ahhhh take a seat, Bellahhhhh!” he bounced, causing me to wonder what-the-‘eff was in his coffee...and maybe where I could get some.

The period started. Mike managed to nearly swallow his eraser (don’t ask). The period ended. Lunch.

I met up with Mike and Angela in the hall, who actually managed to provoke me into conversation all the way from my door to sitting down at a table in the cafeteria, with a tray of food greeting my senses. I had to admit – these people were good at tricking me into being social.

A few other random people joined the table, all already knowing my name – though only one or two pretended to actually give a crap I existed. They were here to talk amongst their already existing friends. For their honesty, I applaud them.

As Angela was telling me an honestly fascinating story about how the sun actually shone once in ol’ Sporks before, I felt the strangest feeling. Like I was being watched. That creepy feeling you get in the dark, that makes little kids cry, and big girls like me to turn on our lava lamp to ‘sooth us’ to sleep. Yeah. That’s the excuse I was going with now…

Raising my gaze from Angela, I scanned the room, honestly a bit distraught over the sensation. And she took immediate notice.
“What’s wrong?”

I could already tell I was going to keep Angela as a friend. I interrupted her story with looking confused – and she didn’t say, “What is it,” but rather, “What’s wrong.” She could perceive things in other people. I like that.

“I feel like I’m being gawked at extra hard,” I admitted, the words sounding very ‘Phoenix’ to me…I’m not sure wh…”

I’m sure why.
Well...why I had the feeling, anyway.

There was this small group of people. Pretty people. The type you feel inclined to hate, simply because they looked like they would hold themselves at a higher level than you, and that’s just annoying. There was an adorable girl with a pixie cut, playing with the hair of a taller blonde boy – who appeared quite on edge. Across from them was another duo – a rather muscular boy, who was running his fingers down the back of the girl next to him; a busty blonde that had bitch written all over her face. But none of this shiny people were why I was feeling weird. It was the one that wasn’t groping anyone. He was slimmer than the blonde-groper, yet a bit more muscular than Mr. Emo. Just as nicely dressed as the rest – yet he appeared to be an outcast at the same time. He didn’t have a shiny girl to grope. Poor thing. His hair was quite distracting as well – standing in all directions, as if he had just been Frenching an outlet…yet it worked with his brownish-but-mostly-reddish hair. But I haven’t even gotten to the point to why he was causing me to feel ‘weird’ – other than his obvious beauty. It was because the creeper was staring at me. And concentrating. Probably imagining me naked. Or bursting into flames. Either way – neither were going to happen…at the moment. That made me sound like a whore, didn't it?

“Oh – haha,” Angela shook her head as she spotted who was the ‘gawker’.
“That’s the Cullens.”
And just like that – the creeper re-concentrated on his meatloaf or whatever-the-hell-it-was-that-we-were-eating.
“Anyone with a ‘the’ before their name, fascinates me,” I admitted, prodding my food with a…Fork. Bahahaha.
Both Angela and Mike – who sat on either side of me – laughed at this. Whyyyy (with four y's) did this people find me funny? I bet Charlie was paying them to.
“They’re all living in the Cullen house, is more accurate,” she corrected, staring at her Spork, “Dr. Cullen is a local Doctor. He and his wife seem to enjoy taking in orphans. I wouldn’t call it ‘adopted’ though, since they’re kinda paired off with each other…and that’s just—“
“Complete and total incest?” Mike suggested, stealing my food with Ninja-like-tactics.
Angela snorted, “Yup. They mostly keep to themselves, though Alice – the non-bitchy-small-one that’s playing with the blonde guy – Jasper’s – hair, is the most ‘sociable’, me thinks. Jasper on the other hand seems to always look like he just saw someone kick a puppy,” Angela reported, frowning.
Mike leaned his head to the side, studying the Cullens, before he continued Angela’s analysis, “Then there’s Emmett. He’s the one that’s built like a grizzly. I don’t get him. He should be more of a Jock with his competitive spirit and strength – but he always seems like he’s holding back.”
Total man-crush.
“Then there’s Rosalie – the one that he’s feeling up. Don’t talk to her. Ever. She bites.”
Angela laughed, “Would you know from experience, Mike?” she teased, as I glanced up and noticed the creeper staring again. Okay – this was just getting old.
“What about--?”
“The ‘loner’ is Edward,” Mike continued, as ‘Eddy’ snapped his gaze away from me again, “He’s not a bad guy. Talked to him a few times. Nice enough. Just something off about that entire bunch…”
“Maybe some religion or cult?” I seriously suggested, finally surrendering my tray to Mike, so he could stop ‘subtly’ stealing my unwanted food.
“Actually,” Angela seemed to perk up at my suggestion, “Those are my thoughts exactly. They always seem to stay with each other and not branch out that much – even Edward, even though he’s single; unlike the rest of his ‘Clan’,” she shrugged, sipping her coke.
“She only says that because she’s not dating,” Mike began to move in slow motion. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was a wee-bit frightened.
“Eeeeeeedwaaaaaarrrrrd,” he breathed the word, making it sound like a sexy shampoo add. He even put his hands on either side of his head – apparently to imitate his rather tall hair.

And Angela passed her soda through her nose.

-------------

My next class held neither one of my new self-appointed ‘besties’, leaving me staring at my Physics teacher with wide eyes, as she stared at my slip critically. Miss Dunstrom was the first human in ol’ Sporks to not immediately recognize me, causing the ‘class entry’ to take twice as long as it normally should have.

“Oh…alright,” she began, after adding me to her class manifest, “Take a seat at lab five,” she blandly stated, “…the one with the backwards ‘s’ looking thing.”
Awesome. A teacher that already seemed to think I’m a dumbass.
Wandering past stations one-through-four, I stared back – challenging the gawking faces, before I finally reached my destination – which caused me to immediately repress a groan.

Well hello, Mr. Creeper. The only other person in my lab-group was Edward – the name of which now cued Mike’s amazing impression (complete with the slow-mo) of the creeper himself. His dark eyes seemed to narrow as they landed upon me, with a slightly different emotional aspect to his face, then only a few minutes ago.
“I assume you’re Bella Swan?” he stiffly asked – his voice sounding like something form an old movie…and kinda straining. And hey – he just called me Bella! He was more of a stalker than I realized.
“Yeah – what’s your name?” I already knew, but thought I’d be nice. Good Lord – it was tempting to play with his hair…
“Tommy Jackson,” he nodded – not moving anything but his head, before he refocused upon the front of the class.

I blinked.
Was I just lied to by my friends, or Mr. Outlet-Licker?
"Really?" I asked, pretending like that made sense. Sure it did...not. God. I hate people.
"I heard you talking to your friends. I was just teasing..." he closed his eyes for a moment, "...you, because you asked my name, and already knew it."

Creeeeeperrrr.

Now I refocused upon the front of the class, where the teacher began going over things that I had already learned in Phoenix. Periodically through the period, I shot Eddy a glance – quickly noticing his hands were balled up…and was he further away from me than he was a moment ago?

Carefully, I lowered my nose to give myself a sniff. Nope. I wasn’t exactly reeking of Jasmine Blossoms – but I didn’t smell bad. Did I have food on my face? Something stuck in my teeth? Why was I caring? At all?

Pushing that thought aside, I shot him another glance – his hands gripping the thick counter…and cracking it? Oh he was a strong one!
“Are you alright?” I whispered, as the teacher began knocking things off peoples’ desks to demonstrate gravity. He stiffly nodded.

Bull.

The feeling from lunch began to crawl down my neck, as I continued to not pay any attention to the lecture – causing me to (yet again) look over at Eddy.

And I jumped.

The creeper was staring at me again – though in a different sense. He looked deep in thought. Contemplating? Well – whatever it was, it made me very uncomfortable.
“Um…” I rose a brow, “Do you need something?”

Then he shuttered – yes shuttered, before jumping out of his seat too fast, and muttering something that sounded like ‘nurse’ to the teacher I had already forgotten the name of, before bolting out the door. Aw – poor creeper must’ve actually swallowed the cafeteria food.

Class continued, as I soloed at my lab-station – doodling around and embellishing the word ‘Physics’ atop my piece of binder paper, my mind orbiting ol’ Eddy. What was his deal? The beautiful stalker. To be honest – out of all the people that could stalk me at this school – he wasn’t so bad…too bad he didn’t have a personality. Or show any sort of real emotion except his “intense”-ness...other than his bad sense of humor. At least…well at least nothing. I had a stalker with food poisoning and it was only my first day.

Awesome.