"The hours I spend with you I look upon as sort of a perfumed garden, a dim twilight, and a fountain singing to it. You and you alone make me feel that I am alive. Other men it is said have seen angels, but I have seen thee and thou art enough." - George Edward Moore

CHAPTER ONE

MY PARENTS DIVORCED when I was only a few months old. I was the end product of a whirlwind high school romance; a fairy tale where the quiet, handsome football star and the lively, naïve prom queen really did find themselves in one another. But it didn't last. My mom, Renée, had always vowed that she'd escape the dullness and drudgery of small town life, where everyone knew everyone, where people were born and raised and died under heavy clouds and the constant threat of rain and mist in Forks, Washington. My dad, Charlie, was not of the same opinion. His family, the Swans, had resided in Forks for generation after generation. Forks was home. It was not a matter they discussed much while dating, as it always resulted in an argument. Maybe he entertained the idea of abandoning Forks for at least a short while, to placate my mom. I don't know.

I do know they went tearing down the highway not very long after getting out of high school to marry in Vegas, and their first real fight was over the course of their honeymoon there, as Mom fought her hardest to convince Dad they should never go back. But back they came, and Mom found out she was pregnant with me a week or so after her return. She remained in Forks for the next eight months, and as she often told me, in a voice dripping with theatrics, that it "almost killed her". There was a hint of truth to her claim- I was born premature and was so weak and sickly that I remained in the hospital for another week until I was released to them. So in reality, I guess it almost killed me.

Mom and Dad stayed together for three more months, and then she was gone and me with her as soon as he agreed to sign divorce papers. Their marriage had lasted roughly a year. Me, that sickly baby, Isabella Marie Swan, named for both my grandmothers, wouldn't return to Forks until I was four, and that was for a month in the summer with my dad. In fact, I spent a month in Forks every summer with him from then on until I was fourteen. That was my final summer in Forks. When I was fourteen I was fresh into my teens and fresh into cultivating a biting sense of sarcasm, a permanent sense of moodiness, and a desire to do whatever I wanted. Mom had no problem with my change in attitude; I think she actually enjoyed it. I'd always been mature for my age; quiet, the kind of kid who hated birthday parties and wanted nothing more than to spend recesses reading inside and maybe helping the teacher wipe down the chalkboard. When I suddenly started acting my age Mom was thrilled. Dad... was not so thrilled. He'd always been a relatively easygoing parent, if a bit more straitlaced and uptight than Mom, but that was to be expected: he was a cop, after all. But my refusal to come up to Forks from my home with Mom in Arizona caught him firmly off guard.

What was he supposed to do? I wasn't opposed to seeing him- I'd always taken after him, personality wise, anyways, though I was the picture of my mom- but I was dead set on never returning to Forks again. Ever. As July approached, the month I always spent with him, there were a series of tense phone spats, with Mom acting as a mediator between us. Though they hadn't parted on good terms, my parents had never, ever fought in front of me in my memory. I was lucky in that regard; I'd been far too young to even remember their split, never mind them fighting. I had no memories of an unhappy marriage. I had no memories of any marriage, period.

Eventually, a compromise was negotiated. From now on, Dad would come down to Phoenix for a month, but I'd have to spend every minute with him. This wasn't a big deal for me. I didn't have many friends, and I was fourteen; my social life was hardly thriving. I never did much of anything in the summer when I wasn't in Forks besides spend time with Mom and walk to the library to read the day away. There would be no trips to the library while Dad visited, but I managed, mostly because I checked out as many books as possible the week before. Dad was not much of a reader, but he was a man of few words, and he had no problem just sitting watching television in the living room with the air conditioner on full blast while I read next to him on the couch. This was how the summers when I was fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen were spent. Mom would go off traveling with a few girlfriends, so Dad and I could have the condo to ourselves.

Dad was never totally comfortable staying there. It screamed "Mom", after all, not a middle aged, slightly overweight cop. But he put up with it because he loved me, and I grew out of the attitude because I loved him too. We rarely said it to each other, but it was there whenever we sat next to each other in companionable silence, and whenever Dad caved and told me that he didn't care if I walked to the library while he watched the ball game, so long as I made dinner. Mom wasn't much of a cook, plain and simple, and after classes at the local community center's kitchen I felt like a top chef capable of anything… Or at least decent mac and cheese.

Visits with Dad went that way until the year I was sixteen, the year Mom met Phil. Phil was newly turned thirty, five years younger than Mom, and he played minor league baseball. I liked Phil, as far as potential stepfathers went. He wasn't creepy, he wasn't too old or too young (though I wasn't entirely happy about the five year gap between him and Mom) and he didn't try to be my dad or bond with me or anything like that. He was perfectly friendly, and he never called me Isabella (Mom must have warned him beforehand, because using my full name was a major no-no with me), but he kept his distance, and I was more than okay with that. Things moved fairly quickly, but I wasn't surprised. Mom had been dating regularly since I was in middle school, and I was regaled with tales of clingy, weird, boring, or jerky dates and occasionally boyfriends all the way up until Phil. Phil was different.

Mom was a young soul, whereas I was often referred to as a forty year old trapped in the body of a teenage girl. I would have been more offended by that particular comment if it wasn't so true. Mom and I balanced each other perfectly. I brought her back down to Earth, she reminded me that it was okay to be a little reckless sometimes. I calmed her down, she got me to smile. I reminded her when she forgot things, she distracted me from my worries. Phil was like the balance between both of our more extreme personalities. Phil was good for Mom; he could be ridiculous with her but also watch out for her. I approved, and when he tentatively asked me how I'd feel about them getting married, I even gave him one of my rare, if one armed, hugs.

They'd met while Mom was off "adventuring" as she called it while Dad stayed with me in Phoenix. That was the July before the September I turned sixteen, the September of my junior year of high school. They were dating by August, Phil proposed in October, and though the whole thing sounded crazy, had themselves a Christmas wedding. I was Mom's maid of honor, probably the youngest one ever. It was cute, I had to admit. But I had a sense of foreboding the entire time, because I knew what was coming. Because of Phil's job, they'd be moving to Florida.

And I wouldn't be moving with them.

The choice was entirely my own, and it was the catalyst for the biggest, longest fight Mom and I ever had. She was insistent that we could make things work in Phoenix. She could stay there with me while I finished my junior and senior year of high school. It wouldn't be the end of the world. But I felt differently. She and Phil loved each other, and she'd be devastated having to spend that long apart from him. Keep in mind that this was the beginning of 2005- there was no video chatting, no social media that adults used to keep track of each other. It was cell phone calls and emails, and I had to admit I had a bit of a martyr complex. I'd feel guilty for a long, long time if I continued to be the thing in between Mom and her new husband. I wanted them to be happy, and if that meant me moving to Forks to live with Dad… well, I'd survive.

Mom was horrified by the very idea, as if I was suggesting throwing myself off the top of a building for her sake. I did my best to act like I'd warmed up to Forks over the course of my years away from it. That wasn't true, of course. I could no sooner warm up to Forks then I could to the notion of a slow and painful death. But I didn't hate it. Dreaded it, yes. Found it mind numbingly, soul suckingly boring and depressing, yes. But it was Dad's town. I couldn't hate it. And this was, I assured myself, for the best. It wasn't as if I'd be leaving the country. Yes, Mom would be all the way in Florida, but we could still keep in touch, and I could visit. It was better, I told myself, for us to be apart then to force her to spend a year and a half across the country from Phil. That was the sort of thing that could kill a marriage, and I didn't want Mom to be divorced twice. Besides, Dad and I got along, and we had similar interests, or at least one: peace and quiet. Maybe this would be good for me. A dramatic change in scenery, sure, but it wasn't like I was leaving everything and everyone behind.

I'd never really fit in at my large high school in Phoenix. I had a few friends, but I'd never managed to make a best friend, or entirely entrench myself in one group. I was smart, but I hated raising my hand in class and I almost always did badly on projects that had to be presented in front of people. I was pretty in a plain way, but I wasn't stunning. I was pale, far too pale for someone who lived in Arizona. I didn't tan, but I didn't burn, either. My skin just... didn't do much of anything, really. My hair was straight, brown, reached mid back, and matched my similarly brown eyes. My face was a bit long, my nose sharp, and my lips thin. I was 5'4" and of a scrawny build. I'd been asked out once or twice before, and I'd been on a few dates, but I'd never had a steady, long term boyfriend.

I had flights of arrogance, spells of snobbery, and I was so flat in my sarcasm and tone that my attempts at jokes often just made people uncomfortable. I wasn't easily excited, but I wasn't easily upset. I didn't usually react the way people wanted or expected me to. I found it hard for to open up to people I didn't know very well. I was generally supportive and extremely protective of the people I cared about, but I wasn't always sure how to show it. I liked feeling needed, but the list of people that needed me was very short. My friends at school didn't. I was just another face in the group, quiet Bella, usually with a book in hand, pretty but socially awkward. A nice enough klutz.

No, I liked Phoenix for the setting; because it was familiar but unfamiliar at the same time, because the hot sun beat down on a city that was vibrant, that had a pulse, that seemed to grow and move with me. I liked it because I could get lost in it, because I didn't know every face I passed. Forks, in contrast, seemed stuck in time, never changing, always the same, forever green and saturated with rain. Forever cloudy and grim. I was a little worried that if I set foot in Forks again, I'd remain there for the rest of my life. An eternal prison sentence.

But I was also stubborn, and if I had to move to Forks for the good of Mom and Phil, I'd move to Forks. To me, anything else would have been selfish. And so I convinced Mom. I'd been working on her since the fall, and one thing I was good at was hiding my feelings. Mom was an open book of emotions, but I was more guarded, more closed off. What I felt was intensely private. I eventually convinced her that while I wasn't necessarily delighted to be moving to Forks, I was more than okay with it, even optimistic about the change. That I could be happy there. I wasn't too sure about that, but I decided that I should be happy there, and if I ingrained it in myself that I should be happy there, maybe I could actually make myself happy there. Mind over matter.

And so towards the end of January Mom drove me to the airport, and we said our goodbyes. The blue sky seemed to stretch on endlessly above us. I stared out the window the entire ride and Mom, for once, was quiet and subdued. She barely said a word to me until we parked, and then she sat there for a moment, looking at the parking gear as if she debating putting the car out of park and driving away before I could get out. I wondered if she was mad at me, but when she was angry she tended to yell. Mom believed in getting feelings out quickly and completely. She didn't like to bottle things up as Dad and I did, and she was probably healthier for it. I shifted in my seat awkwardly and wondered how I should phrase an apology, when finally she spoke, her voice small and quavering. "I love you more than anything, Bella."

I wasn't really shocked by her emotional declaration of feelings, since she was prone to them, but I was made uncomfortable by the tremble in her voice. It was hard to feel sorry for myself right now. This clearly wasn't going to be easy for her, either.

"I don't want you to think I love you any less because of this," she confessed. "Oh, Bella, you don't have to do this. You might not regret it right now, but I don't want you to realize you hate me in a couple years." She looked genuinely frightened of the possibility. "Mom," I protested. "I'm fine. This is just what's best for everyone." She was making me nervous.

"I just want 'everyone' to include you," she said defensively. "You're seventeen, honey. Now is the time to think of yourself. You can worry about 'everyone' later. I wish I was half as mature as you are now when I was your age. It would have saved me from a lot of bad choices." She laughed, but it faded much quicker than usual. "But maybe then I wouldn't have married your dad and had you. We didn't work out, but your dad's a good man and I'm glad you have him as a father. And Phil is the love of my life, but you will always be my daughter." She was staring at me, her wide brown eyes intense and serious for once, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. I hoped she didn't start crying; then I might break down a little too.

I looked away after a moment and slowly undid my seatbelt. "You'll always be my mom. Mom, you're going be happy traveling around with Phil, and I'll be happy living with Dad. I'd be happy living with Dad anywhere. The fact that it's Forks isn't the end of the world." I leaned over and squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled waveringly and swatted at me as she undid her own seatbelt.

"Oh, let me be the mother right now!" She grabbed me in a tight, bone crushing hug, the sort of hug she gave best, and the sort of hug that said 'I hate to let you go'. Somehow, knowing that gave me comfort as I got on the plane and when I watched Arizona disappear beneath me.

The flight was four hours. I slept for most of it, and read when I wasn't sleeping. It was around noon when the plane left Phoenix, and late afternoon when it landed in Seattle. I got an early dinner in the airport while waiting for the much smaller plane that would take me to Port Angeles, the nearest city with an airport to Forks. The plane ride to Port Angeles was much bumpier; no chance of a nap.

I finished my book during it; a battered copy of Sense and Sensibility. I was a romantic at heart, despite my practicality. I liked classical music and romance novels, and I sometimes fantasized about living in another age, where there were courtships and suitors and balls. I'd always been guilty about my admittedly childish dreams of that. Sometimes I wondered if it was because my parents were divorced, or because I was so quick to see fault with every boy who showed interest in me. I was the last off the plane. It was raining steadily, of course, but I could make out the figure of my dad, waiting for me with the cruiser.

I hurried over, managing to soak my shoes and the hem of my jeans in not one but two large puddles. I groaned internally. It was another hour in the car to Forks, and I wasn't looking forward to spending it wet. I forced a smile on my face and waved jerkily as I approached, before swearing under my breath as my luggage got caught on a rut in the pavement. I yanked it away, and almost slipped as a result. Dad took pity and hurried over to take it from me.

"Welcome back, Bells." He shot me a rare slow spreading grin as he easily lifted up my rolling suitcase. "Get the trunk?" I popped it and stood aside, flinching as cold rain trickling down my neck. I'd bought tons of new winter clothing for the move, but I was just wearing a cardigan over a blouse. My faded jeans were already soaked, and my shoes were squishy. After Dad closed the trunk he went in for a hug, if somewhat hesitantly, so I reciprocated a little more warmly than was the norm for me.

I could tell he was thrilled to have me living with him, but nervous and unsure all the same. Mom never would have been able to tell all that just from looking at him, but I was like him. I knew. And I was nervous too. A new high school was bad enough, but living with Dad… I was used to a certain degree of independence. It wasn't as though Dad was clingy or overbearing, but I'd never even had a curfew before. Mom didn't mind if I didn't come straight from school, or if I left the house without telling her. She always joked that she trusted me more than she trusted herself. I usually left notes for her, of course, but I couldn't remember the last time she'd even scolded me about something. I was a "good kid". I didn't do anything that warranted being yelled at or punished for. I kept my head down. I didn't party, I didn't drink, I didn't do drugs, and I didn't sneak out to have sex.

But Dad might expect me to check in with him more often, to ask him if I could go places rather than flat out tell him where I was going. He was still a cop after all. Chief of police in Forks now, actually. People would be naturally wary of me because I was a stranger, even if my dad was well liked and well respected in the community. Everyone knew my name, but no one had seen me in Forks in years. And my mom no doubt had a reputation as the flighty bird that'd taken off with the chief's daughter and ended up settling down in Phoenix, of all places. I was a city kid entering a small town. The pressure on me was a bit much. I felt a little sick just thinking about it, as I pulled away from Dad and made for the passenger seat of the cruiser, which smelled faintly of the woods, breath mints, and really old cologne.

I settled into the thankfully warm seat and cranked up the heat while Dad got in and pulled out of the parking spot. No one said anything until we had left the airport and were driving through Port Angeles. It was raining too hard now to look out the windows, so I settled for watching Dad. "It's been a while since you were back to Forks." He started off by stating the obvious, but I didn't mind. "Yeah," I agreed. "I'm... I'm looking forward to it."

He made a sort of grunt of agreement before he asked how Mom and Phil were doing. I could never be sure of his opinion of Mom's relationship with Phil. He'd never spoken badly of my mom in front of me, and neither had she of him. Mom talked openly about why they'd broken up, but she tried to avoid insulting my dad when she did. Dad just didn't talk about the divorce, period. I had no idea if he was over Mom or not. He certainly wasn't dating anyone, so maybe the bachelor life suited him.

"They're good. I think Mom's really happy with him," I said, and was relieved that I still sounded fond about things. I didn't want Mom's fear of me ending up bitter about this to become a reality.

"That's good." Conversations with Dad tended to go like this. I was used to it. If he'd been Chatty Cathy I would have been alarmed. Dad only spoke a lot when he was upset, and he only got upset when something was seriously wrong. He didn't speak again until we were out of Port Angeles and on the highway, but by the way he cast a sidelong glance my way before he began I suspected he was gauging my current mood. I did my best to look as lighthearted as possible, and even hummed a little along with the radio for effect.

"I got a car for you," he finally announced. I straightened up in my seat, shocked. "What- you did? Really?" Dad had promised he'd help me get a car, but I hadn't thought I'd be getting my hands on one this quickly. I was happily surprised to hear otherwise.

He looked thrilled at my response. "Yeah, a Chevy. Billy Black- you remember him, don't you, from La Push? He offered to sell it to me cheap, since he can't drive anymore, now that he's in that wheelchair."

I wasn't sure how I felt about it being a truck; I'd never driven a truck before, and this one was bound to be ancient, given that it was coming from Billy Black. He couldn't be much older than fifty- if I remembered him right his kids were roughly around my age, the daughters older, the son a little younger- but he'd always seemed older to me. Maybe Dad's mustache was what was keeping him looking young. I almost laughed a little at that thought, and Dad took my amusement for a sign of misgivings.

"It's really not that bad," he was quick to assure me. "His son, Jake, you know him, too, helped him tune her right up for you. Says she runs like a dream. Sure, the outside might be a bit banged up, but the engine's practically as good as new." This was a mouthful for him; he really was worried I was upset with him. "No, Dad, I bet it's great. I'm just a little overwhelmed. I didn't think I'd be getting a car this fast. Thanks." He must have known how much it meant to me, being able to have my own car up here. He could have stalled me getting one to make sure I didn't drive that car right out of Washington and never look back. He flushed red and kept his eyes on the road, not saying a word.

"So… how much is he selling it for?" I cautiously asked. I didn't want to seem rude, but while I'd been saving for a car for the past year, I didn't exactly have a fortune from part time jobs and babysitting. "I already bought it, Bells," he admitted. "Think of it as… a homecoming gift. Or an early birthday present."

"Dad." I was even more stunned now. "I have the money; I could have paid for it myself or have even paid half…"

"I wanted you to have this," he cut me off. "I want you to be happy here." I gave him a small, shy smile and his eyes were warm when they looked back at me. "Though just so you know, Dad… My birthday's not until September," I couldn't resist pointing out a little cheekily. I got a laugh out of him with that. "I know, Bella."

With that out of the way, not much else was said until we reached Forks. I tried to doze in the car, though I shouldn't have, since I knew that would mean I'd have trouble getting to sleep that night. I was relieved that as we passed into town limits, my clothes and hair were for the most part dry. My hair was still a bit damp because of how thick it was, and my shoes were still wet, but at least I wasn't dripping. It comforted me when faced with the vast green expanse that was a blur outside my window because of the rain.

But as we neared Dad's neighborhood the weather seemed to lighten a little. The rain wasn't coming down quite as fast or heavy, slowing to a drizzle outside. I could see out the window a bit more clearly. Nothing had changed since I'd last been to Forks. I recognized every major landmark, every business, even a few of the houses. The only thing different was about Forks was going to be my presence, it seemed.

There were just so many trees, I realized as we pulled onto Dad's street. Big ones, too, covered in moss. I'd forgotten how big they could get. And there were so many ferns and bushes as well. Well, at least I'd have a backyard living at Charlie's. For such a small, cramped little house, which was in reality more like a cabin than anything else, he did have a nice piece of property. No nosy neighbors right on top of us. The lawn was a little overgrown, the driveway needed repaving, and the porch swing looked like it was on its last legs. But this was home until I graduated, so I might as well get used to it.

"And there's your truck," Dad commented as we turned into the driveway. "Billy must have had Jacob drive it over."

I remembered now that Jacob was Billy's son, and I doubted he was old enough for a license yet, but I let it go. Things were different in Forks. Plenty of people took their sons and daughters fishing before they were in kindergarten, and hunting before they were in middle school. And the reservation was entirely separate territory. They were on fairly good terms with the people of Forks, it being the only nearby town, but Dad had said once that they gave La Push its space.

The truck was parked on the street next to the driveway. I couldn't get a good look at it in the cruiser, so I jumped out as soon as the engine was off and approached it warily. It was red, but the paint was faded into a more neutral shade of the color, and it looked like something you'd see on the set of an old movie from the seventies or eighties. It wasn't as big as I'd thought it might be, and I was glad. No need to draw even more attention to myself with a monster of a truck. It was sort of cute, in a round-ish old car way, and it looked sturdy, too, like it could withstand almost anything.

"You like it?" a slightly anxious voice asked gruffly. I hadn't even noticed Dad lingering behind me in the drizzling rain. I nodded and smiled despite, the rain getting in my eyes. "Yeah, I do." He seemed pleased. "Alright then, come on inside." He held the front door for me while I lugged all my things inside and up the rickety stairs that groaned and creaked under my unfamiliar weight. I was staying in the bedroom I'd always stayed in, the room I slept in as an infant.

The floor was old wood and the walls were pale blue. Mom claimed this was because they'd been sure I'd be a boy when they were getting it ready for my arrival into the world, but I'd never minded. I looked better in cooler colors anyways. The ceiling peaked up like that of an attic, and I had to bow my head a little in some tight corners, but for the most part I was short enough for it to work out okay. The curtains around the one window overlooking the front yard were still that ancient lace, now yellowing with age.

The rocking chair my mom had rocked me in when I came home from the hospital was still in the corner by the window. The desk was a little smaller than I remembered, and the old computer even older. I didn't mind that much; I'd only really be using it to email Mom and maybe to research some things for homework once I started school, which would be tomorrow.

I tried not to feel too overwhelmed as I started on settling myself into the room. Luckily, Dad didn't hang around. Mom would have hovered and fretted over everything and added to my discomfort. He wandered off instead. I unpacked my precious books first. My Jane Austen novels took the honor of the top shelf of the small bookcase, which I quickly discovered was not going to fit all my books. In addition to the Jane Austen's I had Little Women and its sequels, the Little House books, the ongoing Harry Potter series- I was eagerly awaiting the release of the sixth book this coming summer-, The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and the Anne of Green Gables series, among others. I had a sizable collection of Shakespeare's more famous plays, one or two books of poetry, and even a few old story books I had adored when I was small.

Next came my clothes, stored away in the tiny closet, my shoes shoved in at the bottom. I regretfully packed away my Arizona-weather tank tops and shorts. I tucked my toiletries into an empty drawer in the cramped bathroom across the hall. I'd be sharing it with Dad, to my displeasure. I surveyed myself in the mirror for the moment, and admitted I looked tired and worn down. Thinking about tomorrow didn't make me feel any better. My high school in Phoenix had been modern and huge, packed to the brim with students. The high school in Forks was small, had been built in the fifties, and only had three hundred fifty something students, all of whom had probably been in the same classes together since preschool. I was going to stick out whether I liked it or not, and I knew it wasn't going to be pleasant. But, I reminded myself sourly, hadn't I wanted to be paid more attention to, to be seen as someone? I definitely wouldn't go unnoticed in Forks.

I trudged out of the bathroom, wondering what to do with myself. It was only seven in the evening now; too early to sleep, but I'd already eaten dinner. I decided I might as well call it a night. Hopefully I'd wake up early and be able to get to school before everyone else tomorrow. I wanted to get a hold of my schedule and a map so I could figure out which class was where beforehand, rather than getting lost later and being forced to ask for help like a freshman. I said my good nights to Dad and spent some time actually getting all the sheets and whatnot on the bare mattress, before I was finally ready to sleep.

But just because I was ready to sleep didn't mean I did. In Phoenix, I was used to sleeping with the glow of streetlights creeping into my room and the constant hum of traffic outside. In Forks there were very few street lights, and certainly none in Dad's neighborhood. The only noise was the sound of the rain picking up and dying down, and the sound of the wind buffeting the sides of the house. This ensured that it took me a good two hours to fall asleep, and even then I slept fitfully, occasionally half waking up before rolling over and trying to muffle the foreign sounds with my pillow.

I awoke far too early, to the sound of rain drizzling on the window pane. I plodded over to the window and squinted at the thick blanket of fog covering everything outside. Great, rain and fog. It was almost eerily white outside, too surreal for me to handle this early in the morning. I took a piping hot shower in the hopes that it would warm me up, but I still shivered as I dressed, and I spent as long as possible in the temporarily warm bathroom, brushing my teeth and doing my hair. I didn't bother with makeup- I never had before, and I felt any attempts to dress to impress would be fruitless.

I checked and double checked I had everything I'd need for my first day of school, and paced around my room before I heard Dad downstairs in the kitchen making coffee. I trooped downstairs to join him then, jacket in one hand, backpack in the other. We were both quick eaters who weren't ones to talk much over meals, so breakfast was short. He actually finished before me, and took his leave after wishing me a good first day of school. I shoved more cereal in my mouth so I wouldn't have to respond to that. While I wasn't dramatic enough to think my first day would be 'teen movie horrible', I doubted it would be very good, either. The most I could hope for was to go unnoticed, and with the size of this town, even that wasn't very likely.

When I finished my cereal I washed my dishes out and left them in the sink. I still wasn't used to being in this kitchen again yet, with the sunny yellow cabinets my mom had painted in the vain hope of bringing some light into the room, once upon a time, the wood paneled walls that made me feel like I was in a box, the cracked and aged linoleum tiles on the floor. The kitchen in the condo in Arizona had been as small as this, true, but it also had a sliding glass door leading out onto the tiny patio out back, and there was always sunlight streaming through them. It was always warm. I stared at the yellow cabinets here in Washington and felt cold. I put on my coat and grabbed my backpack, wandering out into the family room that the kitchen opened up into.

There was a fireplace, but I'd never actually seen a fire lit in it. I supposed Dad might light one this time of year, though. I'd always been here in the summer before, when it was slightly warmer but still frigid compared to what I was used to. There was a line of pictures on the fireplace mantel, carefully arranged in chronological order by Dad, just like how I arranged my books. First Mom and Dad in someone's back yard, at a party of some sort, arms wrapped lovingly around one another, obviously still in high school at the time by the youth of their faces and their clothes. Next their wedding picture in Vegas, their expressions giddy, tightly gripping one another's hands. Then Mom in a hospital bed, holding me, Dad crouching next to the bed, the looks on both their faces much more subdued; tired, Mom's dark hair a tangled mess coming out of a messy ponytail, Dad's clothes rumpled. There was one more picture of Mom, and that was of her sitting in my room, rocking me to sleep, her eyes on me, not the camera. Then it was just standard school pictures of me… preschool, kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, freshman year… He didn't have my sophomore photo up yet. My junior one was yet to be taken.

I cringed at my acne and braces, and ran my tongue over my now smooth teeth as if to reassure myself the horror of my early teens was long over. But what was more uncomfortable was the story the pictures told. It was a depressing one. Not for the first time, I wondered if Dad would ever get married again. I wasn't sure I'd want him to anytime soon, what with Mom having just gotten remarried herself, but… Once I was college, maybe, I wouldn't mind if he and someone from around here, someone nice and preferably his age who wouldn't bother much with me… It was just a thought.

I headed out the front door, careful to lock it behind me, and hurried down the driveway to my truck. One thing I was looking forward to this morning was getting to drive it for the first time. My rain boots squelched as I splashed right through an unusually deep puddle. Water sprinkled my jeans, but at least my feet weren't wet. I climbed into the truck- more like slipped, but I got the door shut behind me. It had clearly been cleaned out by somebody, but it still smelled like cigars, gasoline, and peppermint. Hopefully I'd eventually get used to the smell. Thank God I didn't have asthma. I was a little worried it would just stall and I'd have to walk, but the engine started up with a loud growl that made me jump. It didn't decrease in volume, either, which was annoying, but I could tolerate it. The radio worked, so I tried to drown out the sound of the engine with that. "Show me what you got, Toy Truck," I muttered, and pulled onto the street.

Everything in Forks was just off the highway that came through town, so finding the high school was no problem. But it looked nothing like any school I'd ever seen. Rather than one large building, it was a collection of smaller buildings, some linked together, some completely separate. There was no marquis, no chain link fence, no gravel. Everything was red brick. It was like I'd wandered into some strange wonderland. There were bushes and trees everywhere, and close to the buildings, practically on top of them.

I parked in front of the building which seemed to be the main office of sorts. The parking lot was mostly deserted- the buses didn't seem to have come in yet, and there were only a few other cars. I debated just waiting in the truck until more people showed up, but thought better of it. The office was likely to be jam packed as soon as the school day officially started, and the last thing I needed was to be waiting in line just to get my schedule and some directions. I sighed, turned off the ignition, and slid out of the warm truck and back out into the cold, wet world. I scuttled to the door of the office, and a bell chimed absurdly loudly as I entered, pulling my hood back. It was so bright inside that I flinched. There was a faded clock on the back wall ticking slowly. I scuffed my boots a bit on the dull carpet as I approached the desk. There were potted plants, both fake and real, everywhere. It was like being inside a greenhouse. The woman behind the desk looked up from her trashy romance novel to regard me curiously from behind her glasses. She had frizzy red hair and was wearing a tee shirt. Now I felt overdressed.

She looked me over, before inquiring, "How can I help you, sweetheart?"

"I'm Bella Swan… I was supposed to come here to get my schedule," I said lamely, uncomfortable as I watched her eyes light up with the knowledge of whom I was. "Chief Swan's daughter," she affirmed with an open smile. "Good to have you back in town, hon." She dug around in some files before coming up with the paper that was my schedule. Glancing it over, it didn't seem too terrible. "Could I have a map, too?" I asked hesitantly. The secretary frowned. "Oh, I don't think there's any left from the start of the year- those freshman pounced on them, at least the ones without an older sibling to show them around. I can draw you one, though, hold on."

Great. Now I was going to have to decipher a hand drawn map, too. My heart sunk but I kept my expression calm as I waited. She scribbled one on a piece of scrap paper, before handing it over to me. It was rough, but I could sort of make out the buildings and what classes seemed to be where. "Thanks," I said quickly, and folded all the papers neatly to put in my pocket. Otherwise they'd be soaked the moment I stepped back outside.

Back in the parking lot, the first buses were pulling in to the front of the school, and there were a couple more cars. Luckily, pretty much everyone's car seemed to be as beat up as mine, if not as old, except one gleaming silver Volvo that was pulling in now. There was one rich family ready to flaunt their wealth in every town, I guess.

I climbed back into the truck to pore over my schedule and the map more for the next ten minutes, until all the buses seemed to be here, unloading crowds of students. I'd memorized my route on the map as best I could; I just hoped I wouldn't be overwhelmed by the crowd and get turned around. First class is English in Building Three, Room 307, I chanted to myself over and over again as I joined the students on the sidewalk, head down. I edged around the influx of students pouring into the building that housed the cafeteria- it seemed like a popular pre-classes hangout area, along with the gymnasium, which was getting similar traffic. I was relieved to spot Building Three, easily identified by the "3" painted the doors. I got more and more nervous as I entered, but no one was staring at me yet, and I seemed to blend in pretty well. Nearly everyone was as pale as me, and there were plenty of thin brunettes in rain jackets.

The classrooms all seemed to be small, with a row of windows looking out onto towering bushes on one side. There weren't even dry-erase boards; they were still using blackboards with chalk. The desks looked like they had seen better days, and most of the chairs were mismatched. It was a far cry from my old high school, where everything was new, high tech, and modern. There was a row of hooks like the ones they put up in elementary schools to hang coats and backpacks from. I copied two other girls by hanging up my coat but taking my bag with me. I wanted to sit, preferably in a back corner by the window, but I was going to have to let the teacher know I was the new student, and I didn't know if people already had assigned seats. I reluctantly approached the teacher, Mr. Mason, and introduced myself as Bella Swan. He gave me a searching look, nodded briefly, and told me to sit wherever I liked after handing me a reading list. I took my preferred seat in the back as I skimmed the list. I'd read almost everything on it at one point or another, but I was going to have to reread the majority of it again if I wanted to do well on my assignments. The class went by very fast; I wondered if first period was shorter than the rest or it was just me. People continuously talked among themselves and turned around to gawk at me throughout it. I grew redder and redder and tried not to be paranoid.

The bell ringing was my salvation. I practically leaped out of my seat, and tripped into a desk as a result, which made a god awful screeching sound against the floor. I steadied myself on the desk, face now on fire, ignoring the few snickers from the students trickling out the door.

"Almost had a wipe out there," a male voice snickered. I glanced over with narrowed brown eyes to see a gangly boy with limbs like a spider extracting himself from a far too small for him desk. His hair was jet back and slicked back with a copious amount of gel. He appeared to be in need of a good acne cream- I sympathized, but not enough to volunteer my personal recommendations within seconds of meeting him. By his clothes, I judged chess club dork. They'd been just below me on the social ladder in Phoenix. I was a "cool" nerd because I dressed well and didn't talk too much about my interests in the presence of those more popular. I thought of it as common sense. I'd managed to get through the majority of my school years with very little bullying or harassment, and keeping my head down and my mouth shut was the reason why.

"Isabella Swan, right?" he asked with a bit of a smirk. I debated glaring but settled for a moderately curt, "It's Bella."

He looked a little taken aback but far from knocked off his game. "So where's your next class, Bella?" He'd gone from obnoxious to smarmy. I was not in the mood. I straightened up and grabbed my backpack. "Government with Jefferson," I intoned coolly. "You know where it is?" He sounded both eager and doubtful. "Building Six," I assured him, winding my way through the desks to where my coat was.

"I'm headed to Building Four, I could show you… I'm Eric."

I was tempted to completely shut this little 'flirt with the new girl possibly in my league' operation down, but I did have a heart. Eric was annoying, sure, but seemed harmless. And I didn't need a reputation as The New Bitch from Arizona. "Alright," I shrugged noncommittally. "Thanks for offering." He grinned. He did have okay teeth, and he looked better when he actually smiled. "No problem. My family moved here when I was in middle school; being new in Forks sucks." Ah, a kindred spirit. Maybe Eric wasn't so bad. I put my jacket back on and we made our way out into the continuing rain. I was fairly sure the people around us were trying their best to shamelessly eavesdrop, but there was nothing I could do about it but keep my voice down.

"So everyone's saying you moved here from down south, like Nevada or something," he commented as we passed the gym. "Arizona," I corrected. "I used to visit here in the summers when I was younger." I had no idea what to say in regard to why I'd stopped without being offensive. "And stopped because Forks is like a rainy purgatory?" he laughed. "Yeah. I'd get the hell out of here too if I could."

I bit my lower lip to keep from snickering myself. "There's always college," I muttered.

"MIT, here I come," he said dryly. I couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but he brought the subject back to Arizona. "You don't look much like an… Arizona girl." He looked me up and down very obviously. I rolled my eyes as subtly as possible. "You're confusing it with California," I snarked. "We're the Grand Canyon State, not the Golden State."

"Haha. Does it ever rain there?"

"Maybe three or four times a year," I said dully. We were walking around the side of the cafeteria now, and the crowd was luckily a bit thinner. I could see Building Six up ahead. "There it is," I spoke up, loud enough for him to hear. "Nice walking with you, Eric." My opinion of him was slightly improved- at least he had a sense of humor, but I was glad to be off to Government.

"Sure, anytime, Bella!" he called after me much louder than he needed to, probably to impress a few other boys coming in the opposite direction. Their faces were surprised, to say that much. I shook my head a little in annoyance, and made my way into Building Six.

The rest of the morning was quietly uneventful. I got plenty of stares and some whispers, but no direct questions, except when I was called on in Trig to introduce myself in front of the whole class. It was a train wreck. I spoke too quickly, had to repeat that I wanted to be called 'Bella' twice, and the sharp corner of Mr. Varner's desk caught me in the thigh on my way to my seat. Fortunately, I started to recognize familiar faces by fourth period. The only name I knew was Eric, and then Jessica, who was short and curvy with a head of wild dark curls and bright blue eyes. She was a chatterbox, which I liked, because that meant I didn't have to talk much and she was more than happy to show me where the rest of my classes were once the ink drawn map was completely destroyed due to the rain. I didn't really mourn its loss. Jessica was less grating than Eric, clearly more socially accepted, and told me I was welcome to sit with her and her friends at lunch. Being part of a crowd might make me go more unnoticed, and if I could make some friends off the bat, it'd be even better.

I tagged along with her to the cafeteria, and we sat at the end of a packed table. I was practically sitting on the floor, and it wasn't exactly relaxing, but at least I had a seat at the table. Literally. There was an outright assault of curious questions and forced friendliness- not that I suspected they weren't usually this amicable, but they were clearly censoring and monitoring themselves so as not to inadvertently scare me off. It was overwhelming, but I managed to avoid a lot of questions simply by having my mouth full. Eric waved from across the cafeteria, on line to get food, and was immediately shoved out of the way by a hulking classmate.

I politely averted my gaze and looked away. It was then that I saw the highest rung of the social ladder, the A-list, the top dogs of this tiny school. You could have spotted them a mile away. They were dressed expensively, but decidedly un-flashy and modest. Well provided for, clearly, even spoiled, but not wanting to show it, at least not outright. Desperate to fit in. They looked like a family to me, even if none of them looked all that similar.

There were three boys, and two girls. One boy was big, football linebacker big; short shorn curls and serious muscles, a cocky look on his face. The typical dumb jock, I assumed. He wasn't really "handsome", and definitely not my type, but he wasn't ugly, either. Another was taller and leaner, more along the build of a swimmer, dirty blond, wavy hair and sharper features, a small smile turning up one corner of his mouth. He was much more handsome than the stockier boy, in a more 1950s All American Boy way. The third boy was the smallest and the youngest looking, still lanky and in the middle of a growth spurt, with messy reddish brown hair and a more youthful face of wider eyes and a smaller mouth and nose.

The two girls were polar opposites. One was tall, with the much envied hourglass waist and sizable breasts, as well as wavy blonde hair, much like the tall boy, except her hair color was lighter; more of a platinum blonde, ending halfway down her back. Her lips were red and full, yet she seemed to be wearing very little makeup. The other girl was short, very short, probably below five feet, with angular features where the other girl's were full. Her hair was pitch black, in a pixie cut, and stuck up all over the place as if full of static energy. Her makeup was much more visible than the blonde, almost gothic in appearance, and she seemed to be the most eccentric looking of the bunch. She wasn't what you could call pretty; certainly not classically beautiful like the other girl, but she was eye catching, and might even have been cute in a darkly cherubic sort of way if she wasn't so thin. She reminded me of a small crow, while the blond boy and girl, who might have been twins or siblings, were like a pair of golden lions. The bigger boy was akin to a bear, the smaller boy like a fox.

It was a regular menagerie, and you could tell, despite their differences, that they were the elite of Forks. They stayed apart from the rest, but still close enough to occasionally call things over to other tables, sometimes getting silence, other times responses. Opinions on them, from the looks on the faces of the people closest, seemed to differ. The blonde girl got a lot of envious looks and lust filled stares, but had the 'rising above it all' queen bee persona, and seemed to have a few girlfriends sitting nearby she occasionally slipped over to talk with. The tiny girl greeted everyone who passed by, and seemed to be very well liked by virtually every clique, though I was noticing that Forks had nothing in terms of cliques on my old school. It was practically all inclusive compared to Phoenix.

The blond boy was quiet and shy, though he chatted amiably with the auburn haired boy and didn't seem to have any enemies, if not many close friends either. The brunet boy was loud and raucous and seemed to be buddies with most of the athletes, and also, shockingly, what appeared to be the student council. The auburn haired boy didn't seem as withdrawn as the blond boy, but was still very restrained; he didn't grin or laugh as much as the brunet boy or the tiny girl. He did look like he knew a lot of the 'intellectuals', though, from the nods he gave them. But all of them as a whole still got their share of eye rolls and dirty looks. Definitely the upper class of high school. Half of the school seemed quite fond of them, the other half torn between jealousy and dislike.

I paid such close attention to them because they were obviously the highest echelon of the student body, and I needed to know them in order to more efficiently stay out of their way. That had been easy enough in Phoenix, but here, where everyone knew everyone by first name if not last, it would be a lot harder. Still, this bunch seemed extremely close, even for good friend. I tore my gaze away as the tiny dark haired girl got up to empty her tray.

"That's the Cullens for you," Jessica said from beside me, her tone much more subdued than usual. "They're one family?" I asked, figuring it was high time I got to ask some questions of my own.

"Yep- adopted, all of them. The only ones who're real siblings are Jasper and Rosalie; everyone calls her Rose; their last name is actually Hale- they're the blonde ones, you know, twins. Emmett is the giant, Ed- Edward is the redhead, and Alice is the one with the pixie cut," she rattled off in quick succession. "Their dad's a doctor at the hospital, and their mom's a designer or something like that. Tons of money. They moved here a few years ago." I glanced back the way of the Cullens, glad to have names for all of them now. As I looked, Rose and Emmett shared a deep, lingering kiss across the table. A few girls nearby giggled shrilly, and one boy whooped. "Oh," I said faintly.

"Yeah," Jessica confirmed with an enthusiastic bob of her head, curls flying everywhere. "They're together. Like that. So are Alice and Jasper. It's pretty weird, but the Cullens don't give a shit. I think they like being weird." She sounded excited by the drama of the whole thing. I liked to think that not much shocked me, but even in a big city like Phoenix, adopted siblings in relationships with one another would have turned heads and made fingers point. It probably added to their intrigue here, at least for their fellow teens. The adults of the town probably thought of them as bad influences. Good. There'd be no room left for me to be one. I was tame and meek as a mouse compared to these wild creatures.

I studied Jessica for a moment, trying to determine her opinion of the Cullens. She certainly enjoyed talking about them, but it seemed like most people did. The entire table had latched onto our topic and were now chatting about the family. They'd barely needed an excuse to.

"Where did they move here from?" I asked, raising my voice to be heard above the din.

"Alaska," she replied, finishing the last of her yogurt cup.

I took another slow bite of my apple. "So… how well do you know them?" Maybe she'd let slip her feelings on them now.

She flushed pink. "Oh… not that well. I mean, Ed's in our grade, so I've talked to him before, of course." By her tone, it sounded like she'd wanted to do more than talk to him at one point or another. Definitely a crush there, though I wasn't sure if she was still head over heels or not. "So is Alice," she was quick to add, recovering fast. "And she's really sweet. A little crazy… but sweet. Rose acts super above it all. She's not really bitchy, but you probably don't want to get on her bad side. Jasper's super, super shy; he really only talks to Alice. And Emmett's a douche, but he pretends to be dumber than he really is."

I ended up spending much longer in the cafeteria than I ever had in my entire high school career. It was hard to escape from a table where, after talk of the Cullens finally faded, I remained the center of attention. Polite attention, maybe, but it was still more attention from people my own age than I'd ever received before. I didn't know what to do with any of it.

My next class was Biology II, which I had with one of the other girl's from the lunch table, Angela. Whereas I was withdrawn and reserved, Angela was painfully shy, speaking barely above a whisper at all times. She only spoke up slightly to remind me of her name, when I struggled to remember it out of all the names I'd learned over the course of lunch. We walked together in silence, and I felt dwarfed by her impressive height of what had to be about 5'10", 5'11", if not taller.

The classroom was set up like the typical science lab, and nearly every table was filled with two people. Except one. Edward Cullen was instantly recognizable by his vibrant hair alone, taking out his notebook and pen. Angela took her seat in the front of the room, leaving me to my own devices.

The teacher's desk was in a corner in the back of the room, by the supply cabinets. I had to walk down the aisle of lab tables to get to it, and as I passed Edward he stiffened in his seat in a sudden jolt of movement. I slowed my pace to glance curiously at him, but he wasn't looking at me, but instead at his notebook as if it had personally offended him. Wondering what had just happened that I clearly hadn't seen, I looked away, and almost tripped myself up on someone's backpack sticking out from under one of the tables.

The teacher, Mr. Banner, was stern and no nonsense about giving me my textbook and telling me exactly where to sit- with one Mr. Cullen, as he called him. "I expect you two to work," he told me seriously. "You have a lot of catching up to do, Miss Swan. No chit chat." I nodded meekly and hurried to my seat next to Edward, textbook in hand. I pulled out a binder full of loose leaf paper and a pencil, arranging my things neatly so as not to take up too much space. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Edward carefully rearrange himself in his seat, straightening up, rigid against the back of the chair, legs shifting to lock together rather than sprawl out under the table, leaning ever so slightly away from my general direction, as if to somehow block me out.

I flushed. I wasn't being that obnoxious, was I? I sat on the edge of my seat myself, and tried to keep to my side of the table and not stare at him. I angled myself so my hair fell in between me and him, and focused on Mr. Banner. He needn't have worried about me catching up- I'd already studied what he was lecturing about. I took halfhearted notes, anyways, not wanting to look lazy, but I was bored. Consequently, I snuck more looks at my table mate than I should have, wondering when he was going to relax already. It irked me- he acted like I was this huge inconvenience from his body language, but he wouldn't so much as look at me himself. Maybe he was too shy to say anything, but he obviously wasn't too shy so as to not show his annoyance.

I tried to remember what Jessica had said about him at lunch? Was he overly sensitive? But all I'd gotten from her was that she thought he was attractive and was or had been crushing on him. He definitely wasn't unattractive, but I didn't know if you could call him handsome, either. He'd seemed to be friendly on some level, so I really didn't know what his problem with me was, unless he'd just been really fond of sitting by himself and was now upset he'd have to share the table. That seemed pretty immature if you asked me, I though snottily, but to each their own.

I was so busy stewing that the rest of the class time flew by, and I was startled when the bell rang. While I packed up my things, he was one of the first out of the classroom.

Angela hovered near me nervously as I pushed in my chair with a frown, and only then did I notice the boy beside her, whom I recognized from lunch. He'd been at our table, but not with us, specifically. He was cute in terms of appearance, though his pale, almost white blond hair had way too much gel in it, in my opinion. He grinned at me, and I tentatively smiled back.

"I'm Mike," he said enthusiastically. "Angela says you're Bella, right, the new girl?"

"Yep." I adjusted my backpack on my shoulder, looking at Angela, who managed a small smile. "My next class is all the way in the computer lab, so I have to go," she explained quietly. "See you later, Mike, Bella."

"Well, I have gym next," I told him as she left. He brightened. "Me too."

Mike was easy to talk to, and quickly put me at ease with his steady, comfortable way of speaking. Appearance wise he reminded me of boys I'd known in Phoenix, but it was very clear he was not a city kid. He was naive, eager about almost everything, and nice. Really nice. The type of guy who'd hold an umbrella for someone standing in the rain, who probably helped his mom put away the groceries and threw around a football with his younger siblings whenever they wanted.

The only thing in our conversation that made me remotely uncomfortable was when he joked, as we entered the gymnasium, "You run over Ed Cullen's dog this morning? He looked ready to kill someone all last period." I winced, and acted like I had no idea what he was talking about. "He did? Oh… I didn't really see, I was taking notes."

Mike shrugged. "It's probably no big deal. He can be a pretty weird guy sometimes, so I bet it wasn't you. Sometimes the Cullens are like that," he snickered. "Moody."

I nodded uneasily and almost ran into the girl's locker room, though I was relieved. Maybe it was just that; he'd abruptly started on his man period that class, and I had to bear the brunt of it.

I'd brought gym clothes, but I didn't tell my PE teacher Coach Clapp that and he didn't make me change. My class was playing volleyball, to my horror. I hated volleyball. I hated sports, in general. The last time I'd played volleyball had been in middle school, and that had ended with a bloody nose and a very pissed off team. I hung back near the bleachers and managed to stay out of everyone's way while Mike arched the ball over the net time after time.

The only class I had after PE was American History, which I actively enjoyed, and then the school day was over. It had passed far quicker than I expected it to, and it hadn't been as awful as I thought it would have been, either. Though people kept staring at me and talking about me, at least they (probably) didn't have anything bad to say yet. I'd sort of made friends- Jessica, Angela, and Mike had all seemed to actually like me. I had only gotten lost once, trying to find the bathroom. I couldn't say I really liked the school, itself, but I vaguely knew my way around now, and at least driving to school and back home was very simple.

I briskly made my way out to my truck, pulling on my jacket and bracing myself for the cold wind outside. I passed the main office on my way, and as someone was exiting the building when I walked by, I caught a glimpse of the inside as the door swung all the way open. The boy at the receptionist's desk, who appeared to be arguing with her about something, was Edward Cullen. I stopped and stared for a moment, wondering what in the world he could be debating with her over, when he seemed to give up and abruptly turned around. I bolted to the Toy Truck, unsure if he knew who I was from the back, and didn't look over my shoulder to see for myself.

I felt stupid once inside the truck. I was sixteen, not six and pretending to be Harriet the Spy. I stared out the windshield for a minute or two, reflecting on my day, before I realized I needed to beat the rush out of the school parking lot and put the truck into gear, pulling out of my space. I cruised home to Dad's place, already thinking about the mountain of homework I'd been assigned, and whether things would be any less awkward tomorrow.

I thought I was ready to write, but you had me years ago... You had me at first sight, even if it means nothing now.

- The Devil Wears Prada, 'First Sight'