Chapter Text
I tilted my head toward the open window, savoring what would be the last of the warmth that Phoenix had to offer. At least what would be the last of it for a long while.
Reaching out, I let my hand surf along the breeze as Mom drove Bella and I to the airport. The air curled between my fingers almost as if it was holding on. Begging me to stay.
With a sigh, I let my hand drop entirely, focus shifting to the rearview mirror and onto my sister who sat in the back seat. Her expression was guarded, lips tight, and brow slightly furrowed. Almost as if she was contemplating calling out and telling our mother to turn the car around.
For a moment she looked fourteen again, stubbornly stamping her feet into the ground as she refused to step foot in Forks ever again. Our eyes met, and I grinned at her, hoping that some of my excitement might rub off. She smiled back and though it didn’t quite reach her eyes she seemed to relax - if only for a moment.Despite Bella’s distaste for the place, we were finally going back.
We were going to live with our father in the wonderful and wild Pacific Northwest.
To my sister, the decision had been akin to a self-inflicted punishment. A necessary sacrifice to endure so that our mother could be free to travel with our Step-Father Phil. I didn’t see it like that though. While it was the exact opposite of Phoenix’s looming skyscrapers and endless desert heat, Forks offered something magical. Lush green forests that overflowed with flora, a slower paced life, one where you could really find a place to belong. I’d managed to convince Bella to give it a shot, that maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. She didn’t quite believe me, but she had trusted me enough to try.
“Bella, Liz,” Mom said, her voice small as we drew closer to the airport. “You don’t have to do this.”
I could see the thin sheen of tears collecting along the corners of her wide child-like eyes as she quickly flicked her gaze to me then back onto the road.
At that moment I felt a pang of worry.
Bella and I were her constants, the ones who kept her grounded, and now that was disappearing. It had been a long process, and I would be lying if I said it wasn’t hard to say goodbye… but she had Phil now. Our mother deserved the chance to truly be with him without worrying about us. To allow her to grow a new life as Bella and I did the same. It would be good for all of us.
“I want to go,” I said, placing a gentle hand on her arm. In the rearview mirror I shared a knowing glance with Bella, “ we want to go.”
We fell into an awkward silence after that, as the car finally came to a stop in front of the passenger drop off. Mom blinked back the tears that threatened to spill as she looked deep into me. We sat there like that for a long time, eyes conveying nuances that words couldn’t quite capture.
Eventually I nodded, and she sighed.
“Tell Charlie I said… hi,” she said, her voice soft and tinged with that familiar edge of sadness.
“We will.”
Pulling the luggage out of the car was a larger affair then what Bella or I would have hoped for as our mom finally let her tears flow, hugging us each tightly in turn, then together, before letting us go, only to turn around and begin all over once again.
This happened more than once.
It was painful, Bella ducked her head down embarrassed by the numerous stares we were getting from passing strangers. After what felt like an eternity we were finally able to drag ourselves away, making our way into the Airport as our mothers figure faded from view with every step.
The trip from Phoenix to Forks was a bit of a trek. It began with a four hour leg from Phoenix to Seattle, then another flight up to Port Angeles, and finally the drive down to Forks. Throughout the flight Bella and I didn’t talk much. She seemed consumed by whatever swirled in her mind. I was content to let her quietly contemplate everything we were leaving behind, and everything that was to come.
Our father was waiting for us when we landed in Port Angeles. He was attempting to look laid-back, leaning against his police cruiser as we approached, but his nervous excitement was undeniable as he closed the distance between us. Pulling us both into a slightly awkward side hug.
“Good to see you both,” he said, reaching down to collect our larger bags before either of us could protest. “You haven’t changed much. How’s your mom?”
“Mom’s good,” Bella said. “It’s nice to see you.. Dad.”
I quickly wrapped an arm around Bella, rubbing her arm as I pulled her into a close side embrace that I hoped was at least some-what comforting.
“Ready to see the old house!”
If Dad noticed Bella’s hesitation, he gracefully ignored it as he loaded our bags into the back of the cruiser.
While he’d always been supportive of our choices, not once putting up a fight when Bella had initially decided for us that we were no longer going to visit him in Forks, I could tell he was pleased we’d decided to finally spend some real time here. It was comforting, seeing him do his best to be here but trying not to be overwhelming as he opened the cruiser's doors for us. Lingering in case we needed help for some reason but not wanting to push. It was a dance that he was awkwardly stumbling through but I appreciated the effort nonetheless.
As soon as we were buckled in, Dad glanced at me with a shy grin.
“I found a good car for you guys to share. Really cheap.”
“A car?” I gave a curious tilt of the head, “what kind of car?”
“It’s, uh, more of a truck actually. An old Chevy.”
Bella raised her eyebrows at me, as she perked up from the back.
“Where did you find it?”
“Do you remember Billy Black from La Push?” he asked. “The reservation by the coast?”
I shared a look with Bella as I shook my head.
“Not well…”
“He used to come fishing with us during the summers,” Dad continued, “But he’s in a wheelchair now and can’t drive, so he offered to sell me his truck for cheap.”
“What year is it?” Bella asked, already picking up on the bit of hesitation in his voice.
Dad’s expression faltered, he’d hoped we wouldn’t ask, “Billy’s done a lot of work on it. The engine’s only a few years old, really.”
I gave him a serious look “So… when did he buy it?”
Dad cleared his throat. “1984, I think.”
“Did he buy it new?”
He sighed, “well, it’s in great shape. A truck like that will hold up fine out here.”
“You’re dodging the question,” Bella accused.
"Well, uh, no… no, he didn’t buy it new. I think it was new in the early sixties – or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.
"Ch – Dad, we don't really know anything about cars. we wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and we couldn't afford a mechanic..." Bella began, stress bleeding into her voice.
"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."
The thing , I thought to myself with amusement.
“How cheap is cheap?” After all, price was kind of a big factor here.
“Well,” he said, a little sheepishly, “I sort of already bought it for you guys. As a homecoming gift.” Dad looked sideways at me with a hopeful expression, and I could feel Bella’s annoyed gaze from the backseat.
“Dad, you didn’t have to do that,” I said gently. “We were going to save up and get a car ourselves.”
Dad shrugged, eyes back on the road. “I don’t mind. I just want you both to be happy here.”
His voice was a little gruff, and I could tell he felt a bit awkward saying it. Emotions weren’t his thing, and he was probably hoping we wouldn’t push him to say more. Bella had inherited a bit of that from him, I think.
“That’s really nice, Dad,” I said, trying to make up for Bella’s… lacking enthusiasm. “Thank you. It really means a lot to us.”
He gave a little nod, clearly relieved, mumbling, “Well, you’re welcome.”
As the drive continued, the car fell into a comfortable silence which was only occasionally interrupted by commentary of the scenery.
The sky was an endless cover of grey that seemed to blend seamlessly into the horizon. The mist that creeped from between the trunks of the massive trees beckoned, as if inviting me into a world made of mist and shadows. I had always found this place enchanting as a child, but my memory had failed to capture just how breathtakingly beautiful it truly was. The muted grey sky only made the forest’s lush green all the more striking – ancient giants draped in thick, velvety moss, their branches heavy with nature’s embrace. Beneath them, a dense carpet of ferns covered the earth, vibrant and untamed.
Even the air itself seemed tinged with green as sunlight filtered softly through the canopy above.
Eventually, we pulled up to Dad’s place – the same small, three-bedroom house he’d shared with Mom when they first got married. It hadn’t changed much. But parked on the street in front of it was something new.
Well, new to us.
The truck was an old, faded red beast with massive rounded fenders and a cab that had seen its fair share of dings. It looked like it had been through a war and come out stronger. I wasn’t even sure if it would start, but I liked it immediately. There was something solid about it, something reliable. I could already picture Bella and me driving around town, making it ours.
Bella turned to me, her eyes lighting up in a way I hadn’t seen in a while. Then, without a word, she bolted out of the cruiser and to the truck, running her fingertips over the weathered paint like it was something precious.
“Wow, Dad,” I said, grinning. “This is – this is actually awesome. Thank you.”
“We love it,” Bella corrected, shooting me a look before yanking open the driver’s side door. The old hinges groaned, but she didn’t care. She climbed in, running her hands over the worn leather seats, inhaling the scent of aged upholstery like it was some kind of treasure.
Charlie looked momentarily taken aback, like he hadn’t expected that much enthusiasm. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat.
“Well… glad you like it.”
He turned toward the house before we could make too big a deal out of it, but I caught the faintest hint of a proud smile.
Fortunately, it only took one trip to get everything inside.
My room was the west bedroom upstairs, overlooking the front yard. Stepping inside felt both strange and familiar, like slipping into an old jacket that still fit just right. I’d spent every summer here as a kid, and almost nothing had changed – wooden floors, light green walls, the same yellowed lace curtains framing the window. Charlie had kept it frozen in time, aside from swapping out the bed to a larger size and adding a small desk. A second hand laptop sat on top, looking slightly out of place but practical.
Bella’s room was next door, a mirror of mine but in different colors, with a view of the side yard instead of the front. We’d share the small bathroom at the top of the stairs with Charlie, but at least he wasn’t the hovering type. He gave us space, retreating downstairs while we unpacked and settled in.
As I unpacked, I let myself feel the house around me – the way the wood creaked under my feet, the faint scent of old must and coffee lingering in the air.
It was quiet, familiar, steady.
And for the first time since we’d arrived, a small sense of home started to settle in.
JASPER POV
I sat in the quiet of my room, fingers tracing the well worn edges of the small, faded piece of paper. I’d held it countless times before, memorizing every line, every careful stroke of charcoal like it was a map to something just out of reach.
The girl on the paper – she was supposed to be mine. That’s what Alice had told me. She’d pressed the sketch into my hands back in 1948, eyes bright with a promise I hadn’t dared believe.
A family, she’d said. A place to belong.
And, eventually, someone who would love me in a way I’d never known.
She’d been right about the first two.
Alice had become my sister, my anchor in a world that once felt impossible to hold onto. And the Cullens… they were my family now, the one I thought I’d lost forever.
But that last promise – the love Alice had sworn I would find?
The years had worn my faith thin.
I gazed at the sketch again. There was a softness to the girl’s face, a quiet strength in the way she held herself. I could almost feel the warmth she carried – like she belonged to a world untouched by violence, by war, a world much the opposite of my own.
I had spent so long convinced that someone like her could never look at me and see beyond the battles I’d fought, the blood I’d spilled. The idea of it was tempting. But after all these years, it just felt like a story Alice told to keep me from turning to stone.
With a sigh, I set the paper gently on my desk. Maybe Alice had been wrong. Maybe the vision changed and she didn’t have the heart to tell me. Maybe this girl had only ever been a dream. Or worse – maybe she had existed once but was long gone.
A soft knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
Alice stood there, taking in my expression, her gaze drifting to the paper beneath my fingertips.
“She’s real, Jasper,” she said quietly.
I forced a faint smile and nodded, though I wasn’t sure I believed it anymore.
Then, Alice’s breath hitched. Her posture went rigid, hands falling to her sides as her eyes clouded over. I knew that look. A vision was pulling her in, the world around us slipping away.
Silence stretched between us as I watched the shift – calm giving way to something brighter.
Then, suddenly, joy.
A rush of it, so sharp and absolute that it hit me like a current, flowing from Alice straight through me. Her eyes snapped back into focus, locking onto mine. Then she grinned, and before I could ask, she grabbed my hands, her excitement surging like wildfire.
“I knew it!” she burst out, her voice bubbling over.
I barely had time to brace myself before she went on, eyes alight with certainty.
“Oh, Jasper. I just saw – ”
ELIZABETH POV
As I slowly spun around in my desk chair, taking in the small room I contemplated what the next day was going to look like. Forks highschool was going to be a far cry from our school in Phoenix. The entire student body barely scraped past three hundred and fifty – now fifty-nine with Bella and me, while back home we were just another face in a sea of thousands. In Phoenix we were no one.
But here?
It was going to be an adjustment. That was putting it nicely. Would they expect us to act like “big-city girls”? Whatever that even meant here. Maybe that wasn’t the worst thing.
With a sigh, I stood, snatching up my small bag of toiletries. It only took a few steps before I found myself in front of the bathroom. It was small but familiar – the same as it had been during every summer visit, right down to the slightly rusted faucet and the faint scent of Charlie’s aftershave.
I caught my reflection in the mirror as I ran my fingers through my hair, working through the knots from a day of travel.
Something about the way I looked seemed different. I couldn’t quite place it – maybe it was the softer lighting, or maybe just the shift in scenery. My skin looked warmer, almost glowing, like the new surroundings had already started working their way under my skin.
“At least one of us looks happy.”
Bella’s voice broke the quiet, and I met her gaze in the mirror. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her expression thoughtful but distant.
“I keep thinking… if I couldn’t find a place in a school with thousands of people, what chance do I have here?”
Her words hung between us, heavier than she probably meant them to be.I turned to face her, leaning back against the small counter.
“You don’t have to find a place,” I said. “Just exist. The rest will figure itself out.”
She huffed a quiet laugh, but her eyes stayed uncertain. I wasn’t sure she believed me.
“I just… don’t really relate to people our age. Honestly, sometimes I feel like I don’t relate to people at all.”
I let her words settle, trying to find the right thing to say.
I knew how it felt to feel a little different, but Bella took it to heart more than I ever did. She’d always seen herself as an outsider.
“Bella, you really don’t have to fit into any mold here,” I said. “This place is different. That might actually work in your favor.”
She gave me a look, skeptical. “Maybe. I just… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like I’m behind glass. Like I’m watching everything, but not really part of it.”
I reached out, resting a hand on her arm. “You’re not doing this alone. I’m here. We’ve got each other, remember?”
She gave a small smile, but her eyes were still clouded. “Thanks. I know it sounds dumb, but it helps to hear that out loud.”
I nudged her shoulder. “Well, if nothing else, you look like you belong in Forks,” I said, teasing. “You’re practically a local already.”
Bella rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror with a dramatic sigh. “Please. I’ve been here one day and I’m already withering. I swear I’ve lost color.”
I laughed as she poked at her cheek like she could press some warmth back into it. “Bella, you’ve always been this pale. You’re not fading – you’re glowing. Your skin is like moonlight.”
She snorted. “Great. Just what I’ve always wanted – to be confused for a ghost.”
“Not a ghost,” I said, smirking. “An ethereal woodland creature.”
Bella gave me a look but the corner of her mouth twitched. Small win.
“Nope. I’m calling it – Forks is already sucking the life out of me. Give it a week, I’ll be a husk.”
I laughed and slipped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze. “You’re so dramatic. You’re going to be fine. Who knows, this dreary little town might even surprise you.”
She arched a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah? I’ll believe that when I’m not dissolving into a puddle of gray.”
“Suit yourself,” I said, grinning. “But don’t blame me when Forks grows on you and you start walking around like you belong here.”
Bella gave me a playful shove, but her eyes had that glint again – dry humor, but lighter now. It was a good sign.
“We’ll see,” she muttered, stepping away from the mirror like she’d made peace with it for the night.
Later, the rain tapped steady against the roof, a quiet rhythm that filled the house. I’d always liked that sound. There was something calming about it, something grounding. I pulled the old quilt up to my chin and let the sound settle into me.
It reminded me of the summers we’d spent here as kids – nights when the two of us would lie awake in the dark, whispering about everything and nothing, the rain softening the edges of the world until we drifted off.
By morning, the world outside my window was swallowed in fog. A thick, silvery layer blanketed everything. The trees beyond the yard were just faint outlines, their shapes blurred and ghostlike. It felt like waking up in someone else’s dream.
Bella and I shuffled downstairs, both of us still groggy from the day before. The scent of coffee pulled us toward the kitchen, where Dad was already at the table, reading the paper.
“First day,” he said, looking up with a small, almost shy smile. “Good luck, girls.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said, offering a quick smile in return.
Bella gave a quiet “thanks,” her eyes fixed on her mug as she wrapped her hands around it like she needed the warmth.
Dad headed out soon after, leaving for the station. The house settled into its usual quiet, the kind that felt louder than noise.
I glanced around the kitchen. Same dark-paneled walls. Same mismatched chairs around the small table. The yellow cabinets – still bright, still clashing – were Mom’s old attempt to add cheer to the place. It hadn’t really worked, but I appreciated the effort more now.
In the next room, above the narrow fireplace, hung the same row of photos: Mom and Dad’s Vegas wedding, then the baby pictures – mine first, then Bella’s over a year later – and a trail of school portraits marching right up to last year. The sight of them lined up like that hit harder than I expected. It all looked exactly as it had when we were kids. Nothing had changed. That was the strangest part.
“It’s weird being back,” I said, mostly to myself.
Bella followed my gaze to the pictures, her face unreadable. “Yeah. Feels like the house never noticed we left.”
She wasn’t wrong. It was like time had just paused here.
I didn’t want to be too early to school, but after a while, the stillness started to feel too heavy. Bella must’ve felt it too – she was already at the door, jacket zipped, keys in hand.
I grabbed mine from the hook and shrugged it on like armor. Then we stepped out into the drizzle, the fog curling around us like the town wasn’t quite ready to let us in.
The rain was light, more mist than downpour, but it settled into everything – hair, clothes, skin. A fine layer of fog still hung in the air, softening the edges of the morning. I reached under the eaves for the spare key and locked the door behind us.
My new waterproof boots splashed through shallow puddles on the driveway, the wet slosh replacing the dry crunch of desert gravel I was used to. As we climbed into the truck, the door creaked, and I caught the familiar blend of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint baked into the upholstery. It shouldn't have been comforting, but somehow, it was.
Bella adjusted herself in the seat, giving the interior a quick once-over. “Well… at least we’re dry,” she said, pushing back her hood and shaking out her damp hair.
I grinned and turned the key. The engine jumped to life with a loud growl, startling us both. Bella winced and clapped her hands over her ears.
“Wow,” I said, laughing. “Not exactly subtle.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t explode when we park,” she muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
We pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, the tires hissing against wet asphalt. Bella stared out the window, watching the trees blur past in the fog.
“You know,” she said quietly, “I always thought our first day at a new school would feel… bigger. Like it’d be this huge moment. But right now? I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s okay,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road. “We’re allowed to not know what we’re doing. It’s a fresh start, remember? We’ll figure it out.”
Bella gave me a sidelong glance. “You and that whole ‘adventure’ thing again.”
“Someone’s got to be the hopeful one,” I said, smiling. “Let’s just take it one day at a time. That’s all we have to do.”
As we neared the school, the mist thinned just enough to reveal a scatter of low, maroon brick buildings tucked between heavy trees. It didn’t look like a high school. It looked like someone tried to hide a school campus in the middle of the woods.
“Well, this is… quaint,” I said, eyeing the modest Forks High School sign posted near the entrance.
Bella shook her head slowly. “Definitely not Phoenix.”
“Nope,” I agreed, pulling into a small lot near the first building. “But maybe that’s a good thing.”
There wasn’t a single other car nearby, and I wasn’t entirely sure parking here was allowed – but circling in the rain sounded worse. I turned off the engine, and for a moment, we just sat there, letting the silence settle around us before the day officially began.
“Alright, here we go,” I said, giving Bella a quick nudge as we climbed out of the truck.
The stone path was slick with rain, hedged in by damp, dark greenery. The chill sank through my jacket almost instantly.
Inside, the front office was surprisingly warm and bright. The carpet was a weird shade of orange with darker flecks, and the walls were covered with fading flyers, honor roll certificates, and student-of-the-month photos. Potted plants were scattered around like someone was trying a little too hard to make the place feel alive. A long counter cut the room in half, stacked with paperwork and brightly colored announcements.
Behind the counter sat a broad-shouldered woman with frizzy red hair and a purple t-shirt that said Forks Pride in bold yellow letters. Her eyes lifted as we walked in.
Bella nudged me forward, muttering, “You talk.”
“Can I help you?” the woman asked, her tone warm but efficient.
I stepped up with a smile. “Hi, we’re Elizabeth and Isabella Swan. It’s our first day.”
Her face brightened even more at our last name. I saw it click – small town, small talk, Chief Swan’s daughters. Of course.
“Of course,” she said, already digging through a stack of papers. She handed us each a schedule and a color-coded map of the school. “We’ve marked the best routes to your first classes. You’ll need to get each teacher to sign this slip and bring it back before the end of the day.”
Bella and I exchanged a look. Her raised eyebrows said what we were both thinking: Here we go.
The woman offered a reassuring smile, clearly picking up on the vibe. “It’s a small school. You’ll find your way around quicker than you think.”
“Thanks,” I said, scanning my schedule. “At least if we get lost, someone’ll notice.”
“Yeah,” Bella added dryly. “Easy to spot the new kids.”
I bumped her elbow. “Come on, this’ll be fun.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, a ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.
We stepped back into the drizzle just as more cars began rolling into the lot, the parking lane filling in with a slow, steady stream. I slid behind the wheel again and watched as the other students filed in. Most of the cars were older – beat-up trucks, faded sedans. No BMWs, no flashy sports cars. The nicest car by far was a sleek, silver Volvo.
It stood out like a sore thumb.
Unfolding the school map, I scanned the layout, trying to burn it into memory. I really didn’t want to be that kid wandering the halls like a lost tourist. After a moment, I folded it up, shoved it and the rest of my papers into my bag, and took a breath.
“We’ve got this,” I said, giving Bella a thumbs-up.
She nodded, but her smile was tight, barely there. Still, she followed my lead as we both stepped out of the truck and into the slow-moving stream of students heading toward the main buildings.
The nerves hit fast – tight across my chest, buzzing in my limbs. I’d always been decent at faking confidence, but Forks wasn’t just another school. Here, everyone would notice. Everyone already had. I held my head high anyway, mostly for Bella’s sake. She looked like she was bracing for impact.
But just as the anxiety peaked, something shifted. A strange calm, subtle and sudden, settled in like a soft weight pressing down over the panic. My steps steadied. My breath evened out. It was so distinct I almost stopped walking. I glanced over at Bella – still wide-eyed, tense, scanning the crowd. She hadn’t felt it.
“Alright,” I said, more sure of myself than I had any reason to be. “Let’s do this.”
We followed the group past the cafeteria and toward a building marked with a large black “3.” As we neared the door, the nerves threatened to spike again, but the calm held. I didn’t know where it had come from, but I wasn’t about to question it.
The first class blurred by. Mr. Mason, tall with thinning hair and a distracted air, barely glanced up as we handed him our slips. His eyebrows twitched at our names, but thankfully, he said nothing. He just pointed us to two empty desks near the back.
That suited me fine. Blending in would be impossible, but fading into the corners for now felt like a win. Still, I caught the sideways glances, the quick whispers. New girls, new gossip. I kept my eyes on the reading list Mr. Mason handed out – Bronte, Shakespeare, Faulkner. Predictable, but familiar. Something to hold onto.
When the bell rang, I packed up quickly, already trying to remember where Building 6 was. I was halfway to the door when a voice stopped me.
“You’re Elizabeth Swan, right?”
I turned.
A girl stood just a few feet away, short, with dark cropped hair and eyes so vividly gold they didn’t look real. She was striking – not in a flashy way, but in a way that made the rest of the room feel oddly dim. There was something timeless in the way she carried herself, like she didn’t quite belong to this place or era.
But her smile was warm, her gaze steady. Not curious, not cautious. Familiar.
Like she already knew me.
I nodded, a little caught off guard by how direct and warm she was. “Yeah, but you can call me Liz.”
“Liz,” she repeated, smiling like she was testing how it felt on her tongue. “I’m Alice Cullen. I wanted to say hi. New schools can be… overwhelming.”
Her tone was cheerful, easy, and something about it made me smile back. “You’re not kidding.”
She leaned in slightly, glancing over at the paper in my hand. “Looks like we’ve got the next class together. Want me to show you the way?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” I said, still trying to match her energy.
As we stepped into the hallway, I caught sight of Bella near the door, deep in conversation with a lanky boy whose nervous grin didn’t quite match his confident gestures. He was pointing down the hall, probably toward her class. She looked a little unsure, flicking her eyes between him and the maze of students.
I gave her a quick smile – more encouragement than anything – hoping it reached her before she turned the corner.
Alice followed my glance. “Your sister?”
“Yeah, Bella,” I said, watching them disappear. “She’s… still settling in.”
Alice gave a soft laugh. “She’ll be okay. Forks is slow, but it grows on you.”
There was something about the way she said it that felt oddly comforting. Like she actually believed it. Like she’d seen it happen before.
We reached the next classroom, and Alice stopped at the door with a little spin and a dramatic, “Here we are.”
I laughed, the tension in my shoulders finally easing. Her presence had that effect – effortless and oddly familiar.
Inside, the Spanish II teacher barely looked up as I handed over my slip to sign.
“Looks like we’re desk buddies,” Alice said, leading me to a spot in the back without waiting for a response.
“Lucky me,” I said, grinning.
She returned it, bright and genuine. I felt the warmth of her welcome – but also the eyes.
A few students turned as we passed. Some didn’t bother to hide their stares. Others leaned in to whisper behind cupped hands. I expected a few looks – I was new, after all – but this was more than curiosity. It was like they were trying to make sense of something that didn’t quite fit.
I sat down beside Alice, trying to shake the feeling. Maybe it was nothing.
Alice must’ve noticed the flicker in my expression because she leaned in slightly, voice low and amused. “I think people are just surprised to see me with a friend.”
I blinked. “Why?”
She gave a small shrug, her eyes still bright. “My family and I usually keep to ourselves. It’s simpler that way. But you?” She smiled. “I’ve got a good feeling.”
There was something so matter-of-fact in the way she said it – like we were already friends, no need to earn it. It left me feeling oddly touched, and a little thrown.
The stares from across the room hadn’t stopped, but they started to matter less.
As the class went on, Alice chatted easily with me between vocabulary drills, asking questions about Phoenix and why Bella and I had moved to Forks. I answered the best I could, talking about the desert, the heat, the constant sun – all while trying not to get distracted by the way she watched me, curious and focused, like every word I said mattered.
By the end of class, I was still trying to figure her out.
As we packed up, she turned to me, thoughtful. “Let’s sit together at lunch.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. More like a decision already made.
I smiled. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
We stepped into the hall together, and something about walking beside her made everything feel a little less overwhelming. At the next turn, she waved me off to my next class like we’d been doing this for weeks.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of names, directions, and polite introductions.
When I found Bella at the cafeteria entrance, she looked relieved to see a familiar face. We slipped inside together, scanning the tables.
She pointed out a few people – Eric, the boy who’d shown her around, and a couple of others who offered quick waves and awkward smiles. I returned the greetings, doing my best to remember names and keep my own smile in place.
But even as I made small talk, my attention drifted – searching the room for Alice.
Before I could spot her, the energy in the cafeteria shifted.
A group entered from the far side of the room, and suddenly, the usual hum of conversation dulled. I followed the direction of everyone’s gaze – and saw them.
Four students, walking together, but distinctly apart from everyone else. They didn’t look like high schoolers. They didn’t look like anyone. There was something unreal about them – each one so composed, so unnaturally graceful, as if they’d stepped out of some high-concept magazine shoot and landed in the middle of Forks High by mistake.
My eyes locked on one of them: a boy with honey-blonde hair, tall and lean, his every movement controlled like he was holding back something heavy. He didn’t just stand out – he pulled the air around him. There was an intensity to him that didn’t quite match the muted gray of the room. For a second, I couldn’t look away.
“Those are the Cullens,” someone whispered. Jessica, I remembered – sitting a few seats down. Her voice was hushed but tinged with awe.
Ah. Alice’s family.
Even knowing that didn’t prepare me for seeing them. They drew more attention in thirty seconds than Bella and I had all morning – and that was saying something. It suddenly made perfect sense why Alice had said they kept to themselves. People weren’t just curious. They were transfixed.
And then, right on cue, Alice appeared beside me, sliding into the empty seat like she’d always belonged there. Her smile was easy, effortless.
“Hi, Liz,” she said brightly, then turned to Bella with a nod. “And you must be Bella. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Alice Cullen.”
Bella blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Hi,” she said, polite but cautious.
Around us, the table had gone completely still. Jessica’s fork hovered in midair. A few others exchanged wide-eyed glances. Alice sitting here – talking to us – was clearly not something that happened.
I could feel it: the ripple her presence sent through the group. Whatever unwritten rule the Cullens followed, Alice had just broken it.
I glanced across the cafeteria. The rest of the Cullens had taken their seats at a corner table. And one of them – the bronze-haired boy – was staring at me.
Hard.
His expression was sharp, unreadable. Not exactly angry, but not neutral either. Like I’d just done something offensive without realizing it.
Alice nudged me lightly, still smiling as if nothing was amiss. “Don’t mind Edward,” she said under her breath. “He’s... overprotective.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Of what?”
But she just winked, offering no further explanation.
The mood at the table remained uneasy. Everyone seemed to be trying to act normal, but their stolen glances said otherwise. The silent calculation was obvious – trying to figure out if this was some kind of test or just the new normal. A few hesitant smiles flicked Alice’s way, but no one spoke.
Alice, on the other hand, was perfectly at ease, like none of it touched her. Like being at the center of quiet chaos was just another day.
“So, how are you two settling in so far?” Alice asked, her voice light but sincere. Her gaze moved between Bella and me, and I got the distinct feeling she was genuinely curious.
Bella looked caught off guard, not used to Alice’s easy confidence. “Oh, um… it’s okay,” she said, her voice uncertain. “Everyone’s been nice.”
“Yeah,” I added, smiling. “It’s definitely quieter than Phoenix, but I think we’ll manage.”
Alice chuckled. “Forks has its moments. You’d be surprised.”
Across the table, Jessica had been watching the whole exchange with thinly veiled curiosity. She finally spoke, clearly unable to hold back any longer. “Alice, um… not to be weird, but don’t you usually sit with your family?”
She tried to sound casual, but there was an edge to her voice – something between surprise and envy.
Alice turned to her without missing a beat. “Thought I’d mix it up today,” she said brightly. “It’s nice to meet new people. Doesn’t happen much around here.”
Jessica nodded, but the confusion on her face didn’t go anywhere. Around us, a few others cast uncertain glances toward the Cullen table, like they were waiting for some silent signal or correction.
I followed their eyes. The rest of the Cullens sat as if carved from stillness, untouched by the noise of the cafeteria. None of them were eating, which I found immediately odd. My eyes drifted back to the honey-blonde one – still and composed. He was angled slightly away, but his presence tugged at my attention like gravity.
Edward, though, was watching us.
His gaze was fixed, intense. Not curious – assessing. Like he was reading a page we hadn’t written yet. Our eyes met for half a second, and a chill slid through me, sharp and immediate, like stepping into a cold shadow. I couldn’t explain it. It felt like he saw something in me he didn’t like. Or didn’t trust.
Then, suddenly, the blonde man beside him reached out and gripped Edward’s arm. He leaned in, speaking quickly, his lips barely parting. Whatever he said, it worked. Edward looked away.
And just like that, the unease slipped from my body. Replaced again by that strange, quiet calm – unnatural in how complete it felt.
I blinked, steadying my breath.
Alice turned back to me, still all sunshine and ease. No sign she’d noticed any of it.
Bella, clearly sensing something but not sure what, glanced between Alice and the Cullen table, her brow pulling tight. “Um… are you sure we’re not interrupting anything?”
“Not at all,” Alice said, brushing it off with a wave of her hand. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
She turned the conversation back to us without missing a beat, asking more about Phoenix, how our classes were going, and whether we’d joined any clubs. She even looped Angela into a quick chat about the school paper. Whatever tension had been hanging in the air began to loosen – Alice’s energy seemed to pull everyone with it. By the time lunch was halfway over, most of the table had relaxed, the earlier awkwardness fading into curiosity.
Still, I couldn’t help but glance across the cafeteria once more.
The Cullens hadn’t moved much. They sat like statues, untouched trays still in front of them. Bella’s gaze had landed on Edward, who was once again watching us. His expression was hard to read – focused, like he was trying to work something out. Frustrated, maybe. Whatever it was, it made my skin prickle. I looked away, but the weight of his stare lingered.
Turning back to Alice, I decided to ask what had been circling my thoughts. “So… your family,” I said carefully. “I’ve heard names, but I don’t really know who’s who. Mind helping me out?”
Alice’s smile grew, a flicker of pride lighting her face. “Of course.”
She nodded toward the broad-shouldered guy with dark curls. “That’s Emmett. He’s basically a golden retriever in human form. Super strong, super competitive, and completely harmless – unless you challenge him to arm wrestling.”
I laughed before I could help it.
Alice gestured to the tall, impossibly beautiful blonde sitting beside him. “That’s Rosalie. She can come off… intense. But she’s protective. Loyal to a fault.”
Eric, sitting across from us, leaned in and whispered, “She looks like she stepped off a runway.”
“She kind of did,” Alice said with a smirk. “Next to her is Jasper.” She paused, eyes flicking back to me. “He and Rosalie are twins, and they’ve always gone by Hale, not Cullen. He’s... quieter. But he has a calming presence – I think you’ll like him.”
As if on cue, my eyes were drawn to Jasper. He wasn’t looking at us – until he was. His gaze met mine across the cafeteria, calm and steady, but with something beneath it. Thoughtfulness? Recognition? I didn’t know. But I felt it.
He held my stare for a moment longer than necessary, and my heart skipped before I looked away.
“Calming?” Jessica scoffed, “Jasper always looks like he’s five seconds from snapping.”
Alice let out a quiet laugh. “He’s been through a lot,” she said, not unkindly. “But he’s one of the strongest people I know.”
Bella’s gaze hadn’t left Edward. Her voice was barely a whisper. “And Edward?”
Something in Alice’s expression tightened, but she kept her tone light. “Edward’s... complicated. Protective. Intense, definitely.”
Jessica jumped back in, the bitterness in her voice hard to miss. “He’s also impossibly picky. Apparently, none of the girls here are ‘good enough’ for him.”
Alice didn’t take the bait. She just offered Jessica a patient smile. “Edward has his own way of seeing things. That’s all.”
I glanced back at the Cullen table and caught Edward watching me. He looked away quickly, murmuring something to Jasper. Jasper, still serious but composed, gave me one last glance before turning his head. A quiet, wordless acknowledgment.
Then they stood.
The four of them moved as one – silent, fluid, unnervingly graceful. Even Emmett, who looked like he belonged on the cover of a weightlifting magazine, had that same smooth, deliberate ease. They didn’t just walk out of the cafeteria. They left , and something about the space they vacated felt heavier in their absence.
“They’re… different,” Bella murmured, her eyes fixed on the spot where Edward had been.
Alice’s smile was faint, almost private. “Yes. We are.” Then she turned to me. “But so are you.”
There was no edge in her voice, no judgment – just certainty.
By the time lunch ended and I headed to Physics, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The day had flown by, but the lingering sensation of lunch hadn’t worn off. Alice’s warmth. Jasper’s gaze. That eerie calm that settled over me when they were near – it didn’t feel accidental.
At the classroom door, it swung open just as I reached for the handle.
I looked up, and it was Jasper who stood beside me.
He held the door with one hand, giving me a quiet nod and a faint smile. “Thanks,” I murmured, trying not to sound startled – or flustered.
“Of course,” he said, voice smooth and low.
We ended up seated together, sharing a lab table at the back. Just sitting next to him, I felt that strange stillness again – not silence, not tension, but a kind of balance. Like the world had gone quiet around us.
There was something about him – his posture, his presence, the way he didn’t feel the need to fill space with words. It should have made me nervous.
Instead, it grounded me.
Jasper turned slightly toward me, his expression thoughtful. “So… you spent some time with Alice today. How’d that go?”
I chuckled, eyes dropping to my notebook. “Honestly? It was kind of surreal. She’s so friendly, like we’ve known each other forever. It was easy talking to her – almost too easy, if that makes any sense.”
When I glanced up, I caught the faint glint of amusement in his eyes.
“That’s Alice,” he said with a quiet smile. “She makes people feel seen. It’s a gift.”
I nodded, feeling that same calm I’d started to associate with him. Jasper didn’t draw people in the way Alice did, but there was something steady about him. Like he noticed everything and spoke only when it mattered.
“So,” he said, shifting gears gently, “how’s your first day been otherwise?”
I shrugged, leaning forward as I started setting up my lab notes. “It’s been… better than expected. Everyone’s been nice. Still getting used to the constant damp, though.”
Jasper gave a knowing nod. “Forks takes some adjusting. But if you let it, it grows on you. Especially once you stop resenting the rain.”
He said it like someone who’d had to learn that lesson the hard way.
As we turned our attention to the lab instructions, he glanced sideways. “Besides the rain – what do you think of it here?”
“Honestly?” I paused, considering. “I kind of like it. The quiet. The trees. It feels like... I don’t know, a different world compared to Phoenix. Like time moves slower here.”
Jasper tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Most people find it suffocating.”
I half-laughed. “Maybe I’m wired differently. But it feels… peaceful. Like everything’s been here for a long time, just waiting.”
He gave a small nod, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “You’re not strange. You just see things other people miss.”
I met his eyes, and for a moment, the air between us felt still.
“Guess I’m not the only one who sees it that way,” I said softly.
His smile deepened just a little. “Not at all.”
We fell into an easy rhythm after that, trading notes and quietly moving through the lab. A few minutes passed in that companionable silence before Jasper spoke again, voice casual.
“So, tell me something about Phoenix. I’ve never been.”
“Really?” I looked over at him, surprised. “Well... it’s bright. Really bright. Dry heat, red rocks, insane sunsets. You can see forever because nothing’s in the way.”
He listened, focused in that same quiet way of his.
“It gets so hot in the summer, it’s like walking into an oven. One year, Bella and I actually baked cookies on the dashboard of our mom’s car.”
That pulled a laugh from him – low and genuine.
“Seriously?” he said.
“Yeah. They weren’t great, but they were technically edible.”
Jasper shook his head, still smiling. “So, you traded sun and desert for rain and trees?”
“Pretty much,” I said, laughing. “But it’s not a bad trade so far. I like it here.”
“Well, I’m glad Forks is treating you well.”
I smiled. “Yeah… I could actually see myself finding a home here.”
A brief silence settled between us – not awkward, just easy. Then Jasper spoke again.
“You mentioned liking the forest. Do you hike?”
My interest sparked. “I love hiking. Haven’t done much of it here since I was a kid, though. Dad never took us on the tougher trails, but I’m hoping to change that. I’d love to see the mountains.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you’ll get the chance.”
There was something in his tone – calm, deliberate – that made my cheeks warm. I glanced down at my notes, then back up at him, trying to keep my voice casual.
“Maybe,” I said lightly, though I couldn’t help wondering if he meant more than he was saying.
We turned back to the lab, working in a rhythm that felt quietly in sync. Every now and then, I caught him sneaking a glance at me. I didn’t mind.
When the bell rang, Jasper stood and headed toward the door. But instead of leaving, he paused and held it open for me again.
“So, Liz,” he started, his voice low, like he was about to ask something that actually mattered, “if you’re up for it, maybe – ”
But before he could finish, my eyes caught on Bella just walking out of her own classroom.
She looked upset. Frustrated. Maybe even hurt. A spiky-haired boy stood next to her, trying to talk, but she didn’t seem to be listening.
I turned back to Jasper, the words caught in my throat.
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I’ll catch up with you later?”
He gave a small nod, his expression unreadable – but I thought I saw a flicker of disappointment before he turned and slipped into the hall.
I made my way to Bella. She didn’t notice me at first. Her eyes were fixed on something far away, jaw tight.
“Bella,” I said gently, touching her arm. “Are you okay? What happened?”
Bella glanced at me, clearly flustered. “It’s just… I don’t know,” she muttered, her eyes flicking down the hall like she was trying to shake something off.
The boy beside her gave me a friendly nod. “You’re Liz, right? I’m Mike.” He held out his hand, his smile easy and open.
“Nice to meet you, Mike.” I shook his hand, immediately picking up on his chatty, warm energy – like the kind of person who could befriend a wall if left in a room with one. But my attention stayed on Bella.
“What happened? Did the teacher make you share a dark childhood secret or something?”
Bella cracked a faint smile but glanced back toward the hallway. “It was just… some guy in my Bio class,” she mumbled. “Edward Cullen. He was acting strange. Like, really strange.”
Mike snorted. “He is strange.” He shot Bella a reassuring grin. “If I’d been sitting next to you, I definitely wouldn’t have looked like someone just stabbed me in the leg.”
Bella rolled her eyes, her shoulders loosening a little. “He looked like he was in actual pain. And it was the second I walked in – it made no sense.”
“Guess he doesn’t know how to handle decent company,” Mike said, then flashed a grin at me before heading toward the gym.
We followed, Bella still visibly distracted, her thoughts clearly back in that Bio classroom. But Mike kept up a stream of light commentary as we walked – about the gym, the teachers, some ongoing drama he hinted at but didn’t quite explain. I could see it was working. Bella was listening, even if she wasn’t fully responding. He had that golden retriever kind of energy – relentlessly upbeat, almost too much, but hard not to like.
Coach Clapp handed out uniforms, though thankfully we didn’t have to change yet. Bella and I exchanged a look – equal parts dread and solidarity – as we stepped onto the court. The low hum of conversation, sneakers squeaking against the floor, the soft thud of volleyballs already in play – it brought a small pulse of excitement.
Bella lingered near the back, understandably hesitant given her history with sports and gravity, but I dove right in. Volleyball had always come more naturally to me. There was something satisfying about the rhythm of it – the clean smack of the ball against your palm, the quick reflexes, the short bursts of focus. I spiked a few shots cleanly over the net, letting myself sink into the game.
For a while, I forgot about the strangeness of the day. About the stares. About Edward Cullen.
But as the period wound down and we huddled near the sidelines for the last few volleys, a flicker of guilt crept in. I found myself thinking about Jasper – about the way he’d started to ask something at the door before I cut him off. Whatever it was had felt… intentional.
I hoped I’d get the chance to hear the rest of it soon.
The final bell rang, and Bella and I made our way back to the office. The air had turned crisp, and I noticed her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her expression far off. I nudged her gently.
“You okay?” I asked.
She hesitated, brow furrowing. “Yeah… It’s just… I can’t stop thinking about what happened in Biology. Like I said, he was really rude. It felt like he couldn’t stand to be near me. I don’t get it.”
I frowned. “Did he say anything?”
“No. That’s what’s so weird.” She shook her head, frustrated. “He acted like I was dangerous. Like just sitting next to me was a problem.”
As we stepped into the office, Bella’s gaze flicked toward the front desk. I followed it.
Edward Cullen stood there, facing away from us, talking to the receptionist. That mess of bronze hair was unmistakable, and his posture was tight – tense like he was barely keeping it together. His voice, low and smooth, carried just enough for me to catch pieces of what he was saying.
He was asking to change out of Biology.
Seriously?
Beside me, Bella stiffened. My own jaw clenched.
As he turned to leave, something in me snapped.
“Hey!” I called out, stepping forward. “What’s your problem? What could we have possibly done to you?”
He stopped for the briefest second – shoulders taut – but didn’t turn. Didn’t say a word. Just walked straight out the door like I hadn’t said anything at all.
I moved to follow, though I had no idea what I was planning to say. Bella reached out, lightly grabbing my arm.
“It’s fine, Liz,” she said quietly, her face flushed. Embarrassed.
I stared at the door. Asshole.
We stepped up to the counter. Bella handed over her signed slip in silence. Her face was pale, her expression unreadable.
“How was your first day, dear?” the receptionist asked kindly.
Bella gave a faint nod, voice barely audible. “It was… fine.”
The receptionist didn’t look convinced but offered a soft smile and went back to her paperwork as I handed over mine. We left the office and walked to the truck in silence. With each step, Bella seemed to sink further into herself.
At the driver’s side, I nudged her shoulder gently. “Hey. You okay? I know today was… weird. But you’re not in this alone. I’m here, okay?”
She looked at me then, really looked at me. Hurt flashed in her eyes before she forced a small smile. “I just don’t understand what I did wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said firmly. “He’s the one with the issue. Not you.”
She stared out across the lot, like she was still trying to make sense of it. “Maybe I’m just overreacting.”
“You’re not.” I reached out, gave her arm a quick squeeze. “Anyone would feel thrown after that. But don’t let one guy ruin your day. You already met some good people. Jessica and Angela were nice. And Eric? He’s practically hanging on your every word.”
That got a smile out of her – small, but real.
“Thanks, Liz.”
“Anytime,” I said, smiling back. “We’re in this together.”
She nodded, and some of the tension in her posture eased. We sat quietly for a moment, then I started the truck. The engine roared to life, and as we pulled out of the lot, the weight of the day slowly started to lift.