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avoid me。 Charlie left first； off to the police station that was his wife
and family。 After he left； I sat at the old square oak table in one of
the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen； with its dark
paneled walls； bright yellow cabis； and white linoleum floor。 Nothing
was changed。 My mother had painted the cabis eighteen years ago in an
attempt to bring some sunshine into the house。 Over the small fireplace
in the adjoining handkerchiefsized family room was a row of pictures。
First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas； then one of
the three of us in the hospital after I was born； taken by a helpful
nurse； followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last
year's。 Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I
could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else； at least while I was
living here。
It was impossible； being in this house； not to realize that Charlie had
never gotten over my mom。 It made me unfortable。
I didn't want to be too early to school； but I couldn't stay in the house
anymore。 I donned my jacket — which had the feel of a biohazard suit —
and headed out into the rain。
It was just drizzling still； not enough to soak me through immediately as
I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the
door； and locked up。 The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was
unnerving。 I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked。 I couldn't
pause and admire my truck again as I wanted； I was in a hurry to get out
of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under
my hood。
Inside the truck； it was nice and dry。 Either Billy or Charlie had
obviously cleaned it up； but the tan upholstered seats still smelled
faintly of tobacco； gasoline； and peppermint。 The engine started quickly；
to my relief； but loudly； roaring to life and then idling at top volume。
Well； a truck this old was bound to have a flaw。 The antique radio
worked； a plus that I hadn't expected。
Finding the school wasn't difficult； though I'd never been there before。
The school was； like most other things； just off the highway。 It was not
obvious that it was a school； only the sign； which declared it to be the
Forks High School； made me stop。 It looked like a collection of matching
houses； built with marooncolored bricks。 There were so many trees and
shrubs I couldn't see its size at first。 Where was the feel of the
institution？ I wondered nostalgically。 Where were the chainlink fences；
the metal detectors？
I parked in front of the first building； which had a small sign over the
door reading front office。 No one else was parked there； so I was sure it
was off limits； but I decided I would get directions inside instead of
circling around in the rain like an idiot。 I stepped unwillingly out of
the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark
hedges。 I took a deep breath before opening the door。
Inside； it was brightly lit； and warmer than I'd hoped。 The office was
small； a little waiting area with padded folding chairs； orangeflecked
mercial carpet； notices and awards cluttering the walls； a big clock
ticking loudly。 Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots； as if there
wasn't enough greenery outside。 The room was cut in half by a long
counter； cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored
flyers taped to its front。 There were three desks behind the counter； one
of which was manned by a large； redhaired woman wearing glasses。 She was
wearing a purple tshirt； which immediately made me feel overdressed。
The redhaired woman looked up。 〃Can I help you？〃
〃I'm Isabella Swan；〃 I informed her； and saw the immediate awareness
light her eyes。 I was expected； a topic of gossip no doubt。 Daughter of
the Chief's flighty exwife； e home at last。
〃Of course；〃 she said。 She dug through a precariously stacked pile of
documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for。 〃I
have your schedule right here； and a map of the school。〃 She brought
several sheets to the counter to show roe。
She went through my classes for me； highlighting the best route to each
on the map； and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign； which I was to
bring back at the end of the day。 She smiled at me and hoped； like
Charlie； that I would like it here in Forks。 I smiled back as
convincingly as I could。
When I went back out to my truck； other students were starting to arrive。
I drove around the school； following the line of traffic。 I was glad to
see that most of the cars were older like mine； nothing flashy。 At home
I'd lived in one of the few lowerine neighborhoods that were included
in the Paradise Valley District。 It was a mon thing to see a new
Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot。 The nicest car here was a shiny
Volvo； and it stood out。 Still； I cut the engine as soon as I was in a
spot； so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me。
I looked at the map in the truck； trying to memorize it now； hopefully I
wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day。 I
stuffed everything in my bag； slung the strap over my shoulder； and
sucked in a huge breath。 I can do this； I lied to myself feebly。 No one
was going to bite me。 I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck。
I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk；
crowded with teenagers。 My plain black jacket didn't stand out； I noticed
with relief。
Once I got around the cafeteria； building three was easy to spot。 A large
black 〃3〃 was painted on a white square on the east corner。 I felt my
breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the
door。 I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats
through the door。
The classroom was small。 The people in front of me stopped just inside
the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks。 I copied them。
They were two girls； one a porcelaincolored blonde； the other also pale；
with light brown hair。 At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here。
I took the slip up to the teacher； a tall； balding man whose desk had a
nameplate identifying him as Mr。 Mason。 He gawked at me when he saw my
name — not an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomato red。
But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing
me to the class。 It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in
the back； but somehow； they managed。 I kept my eyes down on the reading
list the teacher had given me。 It was fairly basic： Bronte； Shakespeare；
Chaucer； Faulkner。 I'd already read everything。 That was forting… and
boring。 I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays； or if
she would think that was cheating。 I went through different arguments
with her in my head while the teacher droned on。
When the bell rang； a nasal buzzing sound； a gangly boy with skin
problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk
to me。
〃You're Isabella Swan； aren't you？〃 He looked like the overly helpful；
chess club type。
〃Bella；〃 I corrected。 Everyone within a threeseat radius turned to look
at me。
〃Where's your next class？〃 he asked。
I had to check in my bag。 〃Um； Government； with Jefferson； in building
six。〃
There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes。
〃I'm headed toward building four； I could show you the way…〃 Definitely
overhelpful。 〃I'm Eric；〃 he added。
I smiled tentatively。 〃Thanks。〃
We got our jackets and headed out into the rain； which had picked up。 I
could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to
eavesdrop。 I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid。
〃So； this is a lot different than Phoenix； huh？〃 he asked。
〃Very。〃
〃It doesn't rain much there； does it？〃
〃Three or four times a year。〃
〃Wow； what must that be like？〃 he wondered。
〃Sunny；〃 I told him。
〃You don't look very tan。〃
〃My mother is part albino。〃
He studied my face apprehensively； and I sighed。 It looked like clouds
and a sense of humor didn't