1. First Sight, pt 4

Other students were beginning to arrive as I pulled out of the lot.  I drove around the school, following the line of traffic.  Most of the cars were even older than mine.  For some reason I expected to be like Paradise Valley, where it was pretty common to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot, ready to be wrecked by some grinning jock on his parents payroll.  The nicest car here was a Volvo, which stuck out like a sore thumb.  The Thing growled hungrily at it.

Cutting the engine as soon as I pulled into a spot, I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it so I wouldn't have to walk around with my nose stuck in a soggy piece of paper all day.  I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and took a huge breath.  I can do this, I told myself feebily.  It's not like they're going to jump up and bite me. Exhaling, I stepped out of the truck.

Building 3 was easy to spot once I made it around the cafeteria.  Keeping my face pulled into the hood of my jacket, I blended with the crowd and followed two unisex raincoats through the door into a small classroom.  People in front of me stopped to hang their coats up on a long row of hooks, and I followed suit.  Only two girls: a porcelain blonde, and another pale teen with light brown hair.  At least I wouldn't stand out.

I took the slip up to the teacher, who gawked at me when he saw my name but sent me to the back of the class without comment.  It seemed like it would be harder for my new classmates to stare at me there, but somehow they managed.

The reading list was beyond basic.  Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner.  I'd already read everything.  I contemplated asking my mom for my folder of old essays, then went through some imaginary arguments with her on the morals of cheating while the teacher droned.

A nasal buzzing sound announced the end of the class, and a gangly boy with skin problems an an oil slick for hair leaned across the aisle.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"
Heads swiveled.
"Bella."
"Where's your next class?"
"..."
There wasn't anywhere to turn without meeting curious eyes.  Sighing, I dug into my bag.  "Building six."

"I'm headed to building four, I could show you the way..."
"Fine."

We got our jackets and headed out in the rain.

"So, this is a lot different than Pheonix, huh?"
"Very."
"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"
"No."
"Wow.  I can't imagine what that's like."
"Sunny."
"You don't look very tan."
"My mother is part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, not entirely certain if I was joking.  I flashed a few teeth to show him I was, and he grinned back as though he suddenly understood me.

"Well, this is it." He had walked me all the way to the door.  "Good luck!  Maybe we'll have some other classes together."  He sounded hopeful.

I went inside.

The rest of the morning passed similarly.  My Trig teacher, Mr. Varner, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself.  I tripped over my own boots on the way up, and stammered something indecipherable before stumbling back to my seat.  I would have hated him anyways just for the subject he taught.

Forks High school has only 357 students, so it took only two more classes before I started to recognize some familiar gawking faces.  I made bets in my head as to who would be brave enough  to step up and speak to me, and won them all, with one exception.  The girl who shared both my Trig and Spanish classes walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch - practically shoulder length even next to my five feet four inches, with wildly curly dark hair that made up most of the difference.  I couldn't remember her name, so I just smiled and nodded as she led me by the nose, prattling on about teachers and classes.  She pulled me into a seat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, whose names I also forgot immediately, but all of whom seemed very impressed with the new catch.  From across the room the boy from English, Eric, waved at me.

It was there that I first saw them.