Arrival In Forks & First Day

Arrival In Forks

So I have just got to write my parents out of this story. My mom is totally weak and can’t fend for herself. I worried about it for the first five minutes on the plane ride from Phoenix to Forks but then forgot because I was being critical of the people around me. What makes them think I’d rather engage in small talk to pass the time? It’s not like I’m social or anything.

Where was I? Oh yeah, my parents. They are so lame. How dare they try to express their love by being kind and understanding. If only they would beat me so I could have something else to gripe and cry about. I mean, I’ve got a step dad and he’s all ‘Hey, let’s try and be friends’.

What’s that about anyway? I mean not even one attempt to grope me in my sleep. He could at least have me bring over my attractive friends and offer them wine while he leers at them from a corner. He’s just so normal.

Thank goodness I got away from all that and am now in the most depressing place ever modeled after Seattle. Forks is like Seattle in that it rains a lot only more so. Also it’s much closer to the coast so I get to be in the setting that’s most comfortable for the author which is a bonus for the story.

People keep staring at me and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I claim my skin is so pale it’s translucent like those cheap trash bags you by in bundles of five hundred and yet I claim to have spent the last ten years in Arizona. Under those conditions even albinos would at least be reddened with a perma-sunburn. Some how I’m perfectly normal yet don’t have any skin pigmentation.

How did that happen anyway? Was I working as a grave digger to earn extra cash the past couple of years? And just how old am I supposed to be anyway? I know I’m old enough to drive the old truck my dad got me which I’ve fallen in love with and receives enough attention at first to make you think it’s important, but it’s not. Maybe we’ll get some clarification as we go along but I doubt it.

Oh well. Tomorrow I start my first day at this boring school. It’s in a small town, the population of which I’m not going to get around to describing, so everyone will know me already. I am, after all, the police chief’s daughter. You’d think a town that can support a high school class of three hundred and fifty seven—before I showed up—would be larger than Mulberry but you’d be wrong. Apparently there are about a hundred families and they all choose to have triplets every nine months.

First day of School

Today was my first day in this awful backwards place. The receptionist at school decided that she would torture me by sending me on a sadistic scavenger hunt of faculty. She handed me a slip of paper to have my teachers sign off on and then bring back at the end of the day. For some reason she called it a limited time offer plot coupon. I’m not sure what that means.

Instead of going to class I decided to line up all the kids in school and do a meet and greet in the gym. I could have just stumbled along and complained about being stared at for being new but decided that it’s better to just skip a bunch of unpleasantness and get to the introductions. I mean, this story isn’t going to move along if I don’t find the other protagonist quickly.

I had a clipboard with a list of all the students randomized so I could call them out one by one. There was this guy, Eric, who is a chess club—chess clubs are still the in thing in high schools these days right?—type that thinks I’m cute but he’s annoying because he isn’t attractive.

I dismissed him and called a few girls, who are dumb unlike me, and then got to another boy named Mike. He’s okay if you’re into guys that flirt with you and look good in a t-shirt. I think he’s got all the qualities of a golden retriever so I sent him on his merry way. No doubt he’ll be there to fill in some exposition if I need it.

Then finally I got to the group of students that are newcomers like me. When I say newcomers I of course mean they’ve been here for two years already. They’re from Alaska but they don’t look Inuit to me. I think they’re rather decidedly white in that they have skin paler than mine. I bet out at the club they glow purple under black lights. Did I mention they’re all chalky pale? That’s hot right? I mean, who doesn’t dig on a box of white, dusty rods made from fossilized coral?

There are five of them but I only need to know the name of one of them for now. Edward Cullen, he was the next on my list after this girl Jessica who is not nearly protagonist enough to get with him so she’s angry about it. That’s just sour grapes, if you don’t like it maybe you should go off and write an idealized fantasy of high school mixed with the supernatural. But I’m getting ahead of myself here.

“Edward Cullen?” I called out in the cramped gym. Some of the more impatient students are saying that this is a major waste of time. Not for me it isn’t.

The crowd of dull students parted as a boy made his way to the front. His untidy bronze hair was done in a style not unlike the modern fashion-that way it seems relevant to whoever reads this in the future-and he was inhumanly beautiful.

Of course when I say inhumanly beautiful I don’t mean like a machine that’s pretty because it’s well engineered and sleek. Nor do I mean he’s across the uncanny valley where once humanoid features become alien and unfriendly like a clown’s.

No, when I say inhumanly beautiful I mean that I’m reconsidering the whole virgin thing. But because I’m a teenager who’s not experienced at all, the closest thing I can do is stare blankly at him like a deer doing a sobriety test in front of a fast approaching truck being driven by a crazy girl named Bella. No one will ever know where that dent in my truck came from.

“Hi,” I manage to say to him. He’s like a painting of a beautiful person in that he only seems to have one expression, disgust mixed with anger or maybe dysentery. “Are you the other protagonist around here?”

“I do not think so.” He says in an attractive voice—not my words but I don’t’ care because he’s h-a-double u-t HAWT!—that tickles my spine. “If so, I do not want to be. I have better things to do like be bored at things and people in turns.”

“Well too bad because I think you’re it.” I say shyly, pulling my hair in front of my face and hiding behind it.

He just stormed off without saying anything and I cried about it as I ran from the gym. The rest of the students just stood around all day because I didn’t bother to tell them the meet and greet was over.

Afterwards I went back to the sadistic receptionist. She has weirdly huge fish lips and a flat nose that she points at you like a shovel. A framed plaque on the wall behind her says she graduated from some Brigham Young Universety—I didn’t notice the misspelling until I saw she was an English Literature grad, ugh—and she’s shrieking like a harpy at Edward.

“You either do as I ask, willingly, or so help me god you’ll be wearing leather pants and cuddling with your brother in fan hell.” She said. Her voice grated on me like a raven that has swallowed Gilbert Godfrey.

“Fine. I see that it’s impossible to get out of this.” Edward said and turned to me with black, coal colored eyes and hate in them and stormed out. Somehow a gust of wind burst into the room and made me cold. Not sure if that was important or ominous, just throwing that out there.

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