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You seemed zoned out. After bidding my good bye to everyone, I made my way to the airport. From today I am going to have a new start of a my journey, starting from the place where it all had began. After six years, I am returning back to the country where I had grown up. I still remember the day when I had turned eighteen and was all ready to left the orphanage.
It was a great luck of me that I got a scholarship for a medical college in abroad. Then, after completing my studies, I got an internship as psychiatrist.
Everything is going to change.
New country, new city, new hospital, new people, new life. Tilting my head a little, I arched up my eyebrows in surprise and walked to the person standing in front of me, whilst adjusting my backpack on the right shoulder, and pulling the suitcase along with me. He was definitely planning something. Vishal is like my good friend. We both had met few years back in one of a medical conference and since then, we share the bond of friendship.
He is a well- known surgeon but he can be quite childish. After dropping you off at to your new house, I have an important thing to do. We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today. But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what?
I've never seen him act like that. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Edward Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb. He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.
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The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of RE. Here, P. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.
I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained — and inflicted — playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated. The final bell rang at last.
I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself. When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.
Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free. He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice.
I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time — any other time. I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely.
It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me. The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face.
The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me — his face was absurdly handsome — with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist. Thank you so much for your help.
I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip. She didn't look convinced. When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole.
I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting tears the whole way there.
It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day. Mike came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring at him all the while; that was nattering.
People didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I now remembered. I began to feel like I was treading water, instead of drowning in it.
It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the wind echoing around the house. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong answer. It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn't cringe out of the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the head with it. And it was worse because Edward Cullen wasn't in school at all.
All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing his bizarre glares. Part of me wanted to confront him and demand to know what his problem was. While I was lying sleepless in my bed, I even imagined what I would say. But I knew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to do it. I made the Cowardly Lion look like the terminator.
But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica — trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for him, and failing entirely — I saw that his four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them.
Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment he would arrive.
I hoped that he would simply ignore me when he came, and prove my suspicions false. He didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense. I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, he still hadn't showed. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at the door, but Edward Cullen wasn't there, either.
I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk till the bell rang. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a girl with braces and a bad perm. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't be easy. In a town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, diplomacy was essential. I had never been enormously tactful; I had no practice dealing with overly friendly boys.
I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Edward was absent. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason he wasn't there. It was ridiculous, and egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly.
It was impossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it was true. When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of my cheeks from the volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into my jeans and navy blue sweater. I hurried from the girls' locker room, pleased to find that I had successfully evaded my retriever friend for the moment.
I walked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in my truck and dug through my bag to make sure I had what I needed.
Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. So I requested that I be assigned kitchen detail for the duration of my stay. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall.
I also found out that he had no food in the house. I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car.
It was the shiny new Volvo. Of course. I hadn't noticed their clothes before — I'd been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was obvious that they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn dishrags and pulled it off.
It seemed excessive for them to have both looks and money. But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn't look as if it bought them any acceptance here. No, I didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be their desire; I couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty.
They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school grounds. The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. I did the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was.
When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge. When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair up into a pony-tail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had three messages.
Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.
What are you waiting for? The last was from this morning. Isabella, If I haven't heard from you by p. I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun. Mom, Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash. I sent that, and began again. Mom, Everything is great. Of course it's raining. I was waiting for something to write about.
School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I met some nice kids who sit by me at lunch. Your blouse is at the dry cleaners - you were supposed to pick it up Friday. Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me. I miss you, too.
I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check my e-mail every five minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you. I had decided to read Wuthering Heights — the novel we were currently studying in English — yet again for the fun of it, and that's what I was doing when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.
Who else? I thought to myself. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door.
I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose. My mother was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed to remember that far back.
Nightmare Side #3
He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. We were both more comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table.
I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of us was bothered by the quiet.
In some ways, we were well suited for living together. Have you made any friends? I sit with her friends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice. Nice kid — nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town.
He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here. Cullen's family? Cullen's a great man. They don't seem to fit in very well at school. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. He's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers.
I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature — I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations.
And they stick together the way a family should — camping trips every other weekend… Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk.
He must feel strongly about whatever people were saying. I backpedaled. I just noticed they kept to themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to be more complimentary. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around.
He cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the dishes by hand — no dishwasher — I went upstairs unwillingly to work on my math homework. I could feel a tradition in the making.
That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted. The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school.
In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness.
I happily stayed out of their way. Edward Cullen didn't come back to school. Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without him. Then I could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together.
I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry. By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Edward would be there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about him, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry that I was responsible for his continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed. My first weekend in Forks passed without incident.
Charlie, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. I cleaned the house, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my mom more bogusly cheerful e-mail.
I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a card; I would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got… and shuddered at the thought. The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well. People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning.
I didn't know all their names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but happily not raining.
In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, very easy. All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point.
More comfortable than I had ever expected to feel here. When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white.
I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at my cheeks, my nose. There went my good day. He looked surprised. That means it's too cold for rain. These just look like the ends of Q-tips. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us — in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike appatently had the same notion.
He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush. Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. Sure, it was drier than rain — until it melted in your socks.
I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush balls were flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in my expression kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself. Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food.
I glanced toward that table in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. There were five people at the table.
Jessica pulled on my arm. What do you want? I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong. I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes on my feet. I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for the next hour.
I shouldn't have to run away. I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table. If he was glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was. I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them were looking this way. I lifted my head a little. They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow.
Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else — only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us. But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Edward the most carefully. His skin was less pale, I decided — flushed from the snow fight maybe — the circles under his eyes much less noticeable.
But there was something more. I pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change. At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine. I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way. I still felt queasy.
I put my head down on my arm. But he's still staring at you. She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that she did, contemplating violence if she resisted. Mike interrupted us then — he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed enthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested.
I kept silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared. For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since he didn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach did frightened little flips at the thought of sitting next to him again.
I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual — he seemed to be a popular target for the snowball snipers — but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway.
Married To Mr. Nightmare
I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after Gym. Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four. Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty.
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Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation.
I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook. I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing. I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His hair was dripping wet, disheveled — even so, he looked like he'd just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips.
But his eyes were careful. You must be Bella Swan. Had I made up the whole thing? He was perfectly polite now. I had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn't think of anything conventional to say. He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive. I knew it was something like that. I looked away awkwardly. Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today.
The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly.
We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right. I looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile so beautiful that I could only stare at him like an idiot. I'd already done this lab, and I knew what I was looking for. It should be easy. I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective.
I studied the slide briefly. My assessment was confident. His hand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold, like he'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us.
However, he continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, still staggered, as he examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had. He swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glanced at it cursorily. I kept my voice indifferent.
I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Dang it, he was right. He handed it to me; it seemed like he was being careful not to touch my skin again. She paused and stared at the contents of her cup. Im guessing a heart- to- heart isnt in our cards, but theres still a ques- tion I need to ask you, Charlie. Why do you keep coming down for coffee every night? Charlie crossed his arms. He refused to say a word. For a moment, Charlotte studied him silently the same way she sometimes did when she thought no one was looking.
You know, youre just like Veronica. She could be every bit as stubborn as you. When he heard his mothers name, Charlie couldnt hold his tongue. Stop pretending that you knew my mom. I never told you this before because I know the subject is sensitive.
But for your information, Veronica and I met right here in this house when we were both twelve years old, Charlotte shot back, her green eyes daring him to disagree. Didnt she ever tell you any stories about the mansion?
Charlie replied, faking a yawn. He wanted to look bored, but the conversation had taken a turn for the weird, and Charlotte had him hooked. The stepmonster leaned forward with an arched eye- brow. If youd heard your mothers stories, you wouldnt have forgotten them. The answer rattled Charlie. He remembered his mother warning him to stay away from the house. Then it hit him.
Something must have happened to his mom in the mansion something bad enough to scare her for years. And it had to be Charlotte DeChants fault. What did you do to my mom? Charlotte sat back with a huff and a roll of her eyes. Did she say I did something to her? Charlie leveled his eyes at the stepmonster. She never got the chance, Charlotte. But she did tell me to stay away from this mansion, and now I know why. Theres some- thing very wrong with this house.
Charlotte was so still that Charlie wondered if shed suddenly frozen solid. What exactly do you think is wrong with the house? Charlie considered telling her everything but caught himself before he did anything stupid.
Youre in it, he said with his meanest smile.
He could have been mistaken, but Charlotte seemed al- most relieved. Look, I dont know much about kids, and 31 Ive never been good at the warm, fuzzy stuff. So forgive me if this sounds a bit blunt, but its time for you to pull it together.
Otherwise things in this house could get worse than you ever expected. Charlie laughed at that. How could things possibly get any worse?
I live in the town dump with a crazy woman and her evil cat. Charlotte flinched, and Charlie could see that his in- sults had hit their mark. But he didnt care. He hated the stepmonster. And he hated her most for turning him into someone so horrible. Charlie could remember being a nice person once. Now he was always mad. Sometimes he didnt even know why.
It was as if the day hed moved into the purple house, his heart had shriveled up inside his chest. Charlie slid down from his stool, picked up his coffee cup, and dumped its contents in the sink. Look, I dont want to talk to you. I just came down for some coffee.It would be torture to simply walk away.
It made me uncomfortable. I knew it was something like that. She could no longer see Mikhail. She poisoned my forest! Isabella, If I haven't heard from you by p. He listened closely for signs of movement and then sock- skated awk- wardly toward the stairs.
And you want to know about where to read after the anime adaptations? I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got… and shuddered at the thought.