I had never been "the new girl" before. I was glad I had to suffer through it with Charlie and not my mom. Mom would have wanted to talk about what clothes I would wear, what classes I would take, what boys would be in those classes. She'd never say it, or even admit it to herself, but I think she was a bit disappointed in me as a daughter. Sure, I made sure her clothes were clean, the bills were paid, and the dinner was cooked. I brought home fantastic grades on report cards that she barely glanced at before signing. Most moms would be proud, and Renee was proud. But she also wanted to dress me in sparkly pink things and gossip with me about Marcus, the guy from my Biology class who asked me out no less than three times my freshman year.

On top of being "the new girl," I entered Forks High in the middle of my junior year. These kids knew each other since Kindergarten, and I joined them with only a year and a half of school left. Not one student felt the need to befriend me, for they all had their cliques and bonds formed and had for years. I went through eleven and a half years of school with very few friends. I could certainly suffer the last few months of high school on my own; it would just be in a new location.

Dad left early, as he had every day since I'd arrived, and I was left to my own devices for about an hour. I admit I spent a little longer on my clothing choices than I normally would. I took an extra ten minutes to dry my hair as straight as I could possibly get it. I debated the merits of my heeled boots over my Converse, and decided trainers were the better choice if I was going to make it the whole day without a visit to the hospital. I wasn't likely to make friends on the first day, but to break a bone in front of them would just be mortifying.

My first class was surreal. A boy named Mike Newton—he told me his name at least four times—sat next to me and talked through the whole class. He was nice, and his willingness to befriend the new girl was unexpected. To be honest, it was a little uncomfortable. I've spent so much of my school time in silence that making conversation was really difficult. He wanted to know everything about me, from why I moved to Forks to what I had for breakfast that morning. I was never more relieved than when the bell rang and tried not to run for fear of breaking my leg and hurting Mike's feelings. Mostly out of fear that I might break my leg, though.

My second class was Lit, and I was really looking forward to seeing what our reading list would be. I had read everything on the list in Phoenix before I reached seventh grade, so I hoped Mr. Mason would have a more challenging syllabus. I managed to get into the classroom just before the bell rang. I should have hung around long enough to ask Mike Newton where I was going, but since I found it on my own, I didn't dwell on that thought.

Mr. Mason also didn't make me stand in front of the class and give my life story; he just pointed out a seat in the back of the room and handed me a syllabus. I shuffled through the desks, trying not to hit people in the face with my backpack, and plopped down into the empty chair. I glanced at the desk in the corner and saw a boy gripping his desk like it might fly away without him. His head hung low, and a beautiful mess of red-brown hair covered his face.

"Hi," I said, hoping he'd look up.

He took several deep breaths, but refused to lift his head.

"I'm Bella," I tried again.

Still, nothing. I turned my attention to the syllabus just as Mr. Mason began talking about the book they'd been reading before I joined the class. I was relieved to see it was one of my all-time favorites, so at least I wouldn't start the class at a disadvantage. I was poring over the outline when I felt his eyes on me. I turned my head and watched as he appraised me.

The shiny mass of hair should have prepared me, but, really, nothing could have. Startling green eyes were searching my face. They were set above the most beautiful cheekbones ever to grace a man's face. A strong jaw, pouty lips, and a ridiculously straight nose completed the masterpiece. This silent boy was the most beautiful human I had ever seen. Only I could move to the middle of nowhere and find perfection personified. The thought made me want to laugh.

He still hadn't said anything. He didn't look unfriendly; in fact, he looked very interested in me. I couldn't help but wonder why he didn't just open his mouth and say hi instead of staring like I might disappear at any moment. He groaned when Mr. Mason mentioned a partner project, and suddenly I wondered if he might be shy. Like, painfully shy, and not just quiet like me. His hands trembled, and I knew I was right. I quickly scribbled a note and tossed it onto his desk. He looked up at the ceiling as if the paper might have appeared out of midair, and it made me laugh.

When he passed the note back, telling me that writing was much easier for him than talking, I was thrilled I had guessed correctly. I asked if he'd be my partner for the project. Not only did I not want to sit like an idiot and wait for someone to take pity on me, I knew I could make it easy on him by not requiring him to talk. He tossed a note back, and I almost laughed out loud. The shy boy had a sense of humor, trying to convince me that he might be dyslexic or spell badly. As he had spelled dyslexic correctly, I knew neither was the case. I begged him once more to take pity on me and the most amazing thing happened. He looked me right in the eye, opened his mouth, and said, "Yes."

I thought I might pass out from the joy of hearing his voice for the first time. It was low and rich and caused my skin to break out into goosebumps. I thanked the heavens above I had on a sweater so that my reaction to his voice was not readily apparent to him.

I made my way to my next class in a daze. All I could think about were his eyes, his lips, his fingers as he wrote. I had signed up for French III, even though I'd been on an advanced track in Phoenix and would probably be well ahead of the other students. The only other option would have been Spanish I, and I didn't feel like starting over with a new language. Now that I had something to occupy my mind, I was relieved the class would be a review.

Being lost in thought was not in the cards, however. The only empty seat in the class was next to a short, dark-haired girl that literally vibrated in her seat. She was, quite possibly, the second most beautiful person I had ever seen. Her features, though tiny, were perfectly formed, and she resembled a china doll. What struck me was the color of her eyes. There was no way that green could belong to someone else, unless that someone else was part of the family. She was related to Edward in some way; of that I was sure.

"Je m'appelle Alice!" she said with a giggle.

I grinned in spite of myself.

"Comment t'appelle tu?" she continued.

"Bella."

"I knew it!" She kicked her legs in excitement. They were honestly too short for her feet to reach the floor.

I curled up in my seat and pulled out a notebook to take notes, but Alice was having none of that. She plucked my pencil from my grasp and tossed it over her shoulder, shrugging when she heard a mutter of protest from whomever it hit.

"Nothing new happens in Forks. Ever. I hate for you that everyone will be watching your every move, but I love for me that you've come. I won't make you tell me all about yourself. It's not fair to you, but most people know the whole story anyway. I will make you tell me your schedule, though, because I'd love to know if we have any more classes together."

Another squeal followed after I handed her my schedule. I watched her with my jaw unhinged as she danced in her seat.

"You've got Lit with Edward!" she said.

Mme. Hardin cleared her throat sternly, but there was a hint of a smile on her face. I got the feeling that no one denied Alice anything.

I nodded, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "I sat by him," I offered. "We're going to work on our first project together."

"Oh, Bella! You'll be so good for him, I can tell. He's so smart and funny, and he's just so nice. But he doesn't have any friends except for Jasper and Rosalie. Well, and me and Emmett, of course, but we don't count because we're related. You'll meet them all at lunch if you sit with us. You will sit with us, right? Please don't think that there's anything wrong with my brother. He's just really shy, but he could really do with a good friend like you."

I reeled from Alice's words. She had complete faith in me, and I had no idea where it came from. There was a dreamy smile on her face as she continued to describe her friends. I could tell by the change in her voice that Jasper was special to her, but she was fiercely loyal to all of them. I had found the one person in the school who could very well be a friend. Not that silly high school kind of friend, where girls run off to the bathroom together to talk bad about their other "friends." Alice had a pure spirit, and I suspected her brothers and friends did, too.

I let Alice chatter in my ear. For the first time in my life, I found it interesting and comforting. There was no gossip or harsh words. Only love, excitement, and purity poured from her little bow lips as I dug around for a new pencil. My first pencil was a lost cause, because there was no way I'd face the person who'd "caught" it earlier. As Alice whispered lovely things about Edward, I decided to write him a note inviting him to start our project that afternoon.

Alice walked with me to our next class, which we also had together. She dragged me straight to the chair next to hers and proceeded to talk through the entire hour of Physics while I finished the note to Edward. I felt silly writing it, like I was in seventh grade or something. With a little smile, I added that to the note. My handwriting looked like I was drunk most of the time anyway, so cramming it in didn't affect the legibility. None of it was legible.

I dithered a bit—okay, a lot—about whether to give Edward my thoughts on paper. I decided I'd wait to see how he reacted at lunch. Thanks to Alice's warp speed, we arrived at the lunch table before anyone else. A tall, blond boy joined us almost immediately, and I could tell by the look on Alice's face that I was about to meet Jasper.

As I had suspected, Jasper was the third most beautiful person I'd ever met. Not just in appearance, but in deed. In direct contrast to Alice, Jasper was laid back and soft-spoken. I felt at ease in his presence and had no qualms about sharing some of my day with him. Just like Alice, he seemed interested in what I had to say, and his interest was wholly pure. He was not a gossip, and I was grateful that Edward had friends such as these. In any other dimension, these beautiful kids would be the meanest in school, secure in their looks and their power over others. In this Otherworld, where I was blessed to live, the perfect kids were my friends.

Alice danced again in her seat, and I knew Edward was approaching. It occurred to me he might not react well to a new person at the table, but Alice called out to him as if nothing was unusual. When he sat down next to me, my whole body came alive. The skin on my arm was singing, begging to touch him. Before I could do more than smile, we were joined by the famous Emmett and Rosalie.

In Rosalie, I saw Edward's fiercest protector. She wasn't rude, but she didn't accept until Edward did. And when I saw Edward did, I wanted to cry. Because he found some form of comfort with me, I was granted entrance to this most extraordinary of groups. Plain, lonely, quiet Bella Swan had been accepted within hours of her arrival at Forks High School. I owed it all to the silent boy at my side.

The rest of my day passed in a haze. I was not looking forward to my last class at all because it included some form of cruel and unusual torture. Gym class, but I suffered through, hoping that when I walked through the heavy double doors, Edward would be waiting for me. There was a distinct chance he wasn't ready, and I didn't want to push him. Oh, but I hoped. I rushed through my shower, tossed my hair into a quick bun, and hurried out of the locker room. I ignored the giggles of the other girls who had found my lack of coordination hugely entertaining. I did try, but that just made it all the more frustrating when I failed. Or fell.

My frown disappeared when I saw that Edward was waiting for me. Rosalie stood next to him, offering me a sweet smile, and I knew she'd decided he needed no protection from me. My eyes only stayed on her face long enough to register that before they moved to Edward. I couldn't help the way my gaze roamed over his face. Rosalie asked me a question about my frown, but my irritation with Gym class had long since been forgotten. Edward was smiling at me.

I was thoroughly mortified when my dad came home early. Not because I was embarrassed about Charlie, or about Edward for that matter, but because I had promised Edward he wouldn't have to suffer through meeting him. He took the whole thing well. Actually, Dad did, too. I imagine it's because Forks is a small town and Dad knows everything about everyone. Edward was probably the least imposing person I could have chosen to bring home. There was no need for awkward conversation, and Charlie let us walk right out of the house with no dad-like glares or warnings. I could tell having Edward over would be easy in the future. It was just a matter of showing him how non-threatening the Swan household truly was.

Having a police chief for a father could be a little frustrating. He'd bought me the truck, bless him, to spare me the first of many possible humiliations: riding around in the squad car. I knew most students wouldn't be thrilled to invite me along on their escapades for fear of Charlie's wrath. I was okay with not being included, but I really didn't relish the gossip and whispers that preceded the decision to exclude me. That was the main reason I cherished my quick ties to Edward and his friends. I did eventually find other people with whom I could be my true self.

Angela Weber and Ben Cheney were two of the nicest people I'd ever met, outside of the Cullens, Rosalie, and Jasper. Angela and I had Government together, just after lunch, and she would often stop by our lunch table to talk about the assignments that were due the next hour. At first, I worried that it might upset Edward, but Angela's sweet nature seemed to calm him almost as much as I did. Alice whispered to me in French class that she'd never seen Edward accept so many new people in such a short amount of time. I felt so honored to be one of the few.

Angela was the only person who had the guts to ask me what I was sure was written all over my face. Did I like Edward? And I did. So very much that it hurt sometimes. I thought he was perfect just as he was, but sometimes my mind would beg him to talk to me. Perhaps Alice and Rosalie refrained from asking because they knew it was a lost cause. I knew Edward was comfortable with me, but I had no idea if he felt more than intense friendship. Maybe Alice knew the answer to that and didn't want to encourage me into something doomed from the start. I was certain I liked him much more than he liked me, but I didn't know what I could do about that.

Edward sat across from me at the kitchen table as we finished up our paper for Lit class. It had been a pretty emotional piece for me, our paper on the parallels between Dill and Boo Radley. Their abject loneliness seemed personified in the beautiful boy in my kitchen. I felt as if, perhaps, I could right the wrongs against Boo Radley if I stood by Edward and gave him a friend of his own. This was not to take away from the love and support he received from his siblings and their respective loves, but he deserved someone who loved him just because of who he was.

And, just like Scout, I felt a thrill every time I received a note from my perfect friend. Each word was akin to a watch or penny found in the knothole. However he could, Edward wanted to show his appreciation for me, and I cherished every letter. Often, the scribbles were only about our class work, but sometimes he would surprise me with a silly line or a tender sentence. Just before we closed the notebook on last of our project, he offered up a particularly sweet missive.

I find it easier to breathe when you're beside me.

He closed the book almost before I could finish reading and scraped his chair back. I could see the flush climbing his cheeks and knew he was embarrassed about opening up that much. I tried not to show my disappointment, but some must have been apparent. He gave me a sheepish smile and offered his hand.

That gesture alone was worth a hundred of the sentence he had barely let me see. He was asking for physical contact, and I thought my heart might burst. My next thought, after I took the offered hand, was that my skin might spontaneously combust.

There were no words for the beauty that was Edward's mother. I didn't know what I expected, since every person associated with Edward could have been a movie star. He got his unusual coloring from her, with her caramel curls and fair skin. I couldn't help but wonder if Dr. Cullen would be as devastating. I didn't have to wait long for my answer. In Edward's father, I saw the same stature and flashing green eyes. I was immediately smitten with the remainder of his family. There was a part of me that didn't feel as if I rightfully belonged among such perfection, but Esme and Carlisle, as they had insisted I call them, made me feel so at ease that I forgot almost immediately that I was the lower-middle-class daughter of the town's police chief. Laughing with his family, keeping up with Emmett's jokes and Rosalie's cheerful snarkiness, felt like home to me. I wanted to kiss the beautiful boy next to me into silliness for inviting me into his perfect world.

I knew from the deferential way his parents treated him that he was beyond special in their eyes. I could see it myself, of course, but having it laid out so plainly made it all the more real to me. He was silent, humble, unassuming, and broken. I knew that. I knew there was more to the quietude than just everyday timidity. The boy had something serious to overcome, and I immediately vowed I would join the fight. I would put his every need before mine until the day he could easily smile at me and say hello without trembling. For him, I would do anything.

And when I wasn't sure if it was possible to love him more, he meekly led me to the piano and caressed the keys with an aptitude that bespoke true greatness. He shifted closer to me so we would touch, and I felt my bones melt from just the briefest of contact. The silent boy spoke words beyond all understanding as he coaxed the notes from the beautiful piano, and I felt myself lost all over again. I loved him—fully, hopelessly.

Tears blinded me as I searched for a scrap of paper to share my thoughts. Could I tell him the depth of my feelings? It was too soon, I was sure. A tear dropped to the page as I scribbled carefully but quickly. He saw that I was about to communicate and allowed the notes to die. Their tender message still hung in the air, and I heard him. I turned, ready to just speak the words, but I was stopped by the fierce look in his eyes. As my breath caught in my throat, a sheepish grin on my face, he reached up and brushed away a tear that had escaped. I sighed, leaned into his palm, and let the note slip from my fingers.

It was too late. My words were there for him to consume. And he did, voraciously. I watched with baited breath as his eyes travelled over the words several times and tried to read his expression. He was so beautiful it hurt. Green eyes sought mine, and the tenderness and anguish broke my heart. I knew he felt I, too—this tie between us—but there was only silence.