Text Size Large SizeMedium SizeSmall Size    Color Scheme Black SchemeWhite SchemeGrey SchemePaper Scheme        

A New Beginning

Summary:
BannerFans.com
Unknown to her new classmates Isolde Smith has a dark ominous past. Forks may have seemed the safest hiding place, but she had not calculated the Cullens into the equation. What is the real reason behind her escape from Ireland and could returning home possibly be as dangerous as staying in a town inhabited by a coven of vampires.


Notes:
"


2. Chapter 2

Rating 5/5   Word Count 1270   Review this Chapter

The principal’s door opened with a low squeak before she invited me in. The principal’s face had a broad smile and although she did not appear to be older than forty, I could see small lines in the thin gaunt face and grey strands in her hair. “Welcome to Forks High School, we are pleased to have you here. I’m sure you will settle in within a few days,” she recited in an almost believable voice. Next came the overused phrases of concern and understanding of the daunting task of starting in a new school. “I am always here to help,” she said, and I could feel my eyes dying to roll out of my head. I, however, kept a straight face and smiled politely. I could see through her; I knew she couldn’t care less whether I was there or not. I wasn’t naïve. I had a knack for judging people and being able to tell if they were genuine or not. Pity. Unfortunately I had learned this lesson the hard way.

The principal handed me my timetable and led me to my first class, History. She knocked on the door before entering a dull classroom with no more than twenty students present. The walls were painted a boring white and an odd assortment of posters littered the walls. She introduced to my new teacher: a young, enthusiastic man she introduced as Mr. Gropes. I couldn’t help but cringe at the absurdity of his name. It instantly concocted lurid images in my mind, of an old perverted teacher with a habit of groping and ogling students. I just hoped that in future years he would not grow into that disgusting image. The principal soon left leaving me at the mercy of Mr. Gropes. I stood anxiously at the front of the classroom avoiding eye contact with my new peers.

“I would like to introduce you to Isolde Smith, who has moved here from Ireland.” He turned and continued, “I would like to wish you the best of luck here at Forks”

He showed me to a seat at the front of the classroom and I felt twenty eyes bear into my back. I could feel them taking stock of my vibrant red beret. I did not remove it because I did not want people to see my dark brown curly hair that had skillfully been tucked up into the hat. All that was exposed was my straightened side fringe and a few loose wisps to frame my face. I hated my appearance; it’s not that I was ugly: in fact, it was quite the opposite; my pale complexion, rose red lips, dark hair and slim figure were striking and had gotten me a lot of attention in the past for all the wrong reasons. I hated the fact I looked like her; all I wanted was to be invisible and not to be found. The colour rose in my cheeks, and I looked down at my new book as I heard the curious whispers of my new classmates drown the silence.

Throughout the morning I struggled to understand the unfamiliar accents of the teachers. I made no effort to make friends. I was happier to avoid the inevitable bombardment of questions that I would receive. I had my story perfectly concocted. If anyone inquired about my past I would say my parents had died in a car accident, and I had come to live with my aunt, who worked in Seattle. My aunt, unfortunately had a very important job and spent a lot of time away on business trips. None of this is true; I have found that money can indeed buy you anything including nonexistent relatives. Many people wouldn’t believe how I was able to fabricate a aunt. My aunt, Amy Clarke, now had a birth certificate, passport and bank account. I even secured a little isolated cottage about a mile outside Forks in her name.

EPOV:

The whispers were exceedingly annoying today. Everyone was talking about the new Irish girl. I could already see the sick perverted fantasies of every boy in the school as they imagined being with her. The funny thing was that not one of the minds that I had been trying to block out had gotten a clear view of the girl, only glimpses from afar during class.

“So what are the imbeciles thinking today?” Emmett whispered with a cheesy grin as we bought our lunch. He was clearly amused with the grim scowl that plastered my face as image after image of sexual fantasies bombarded my head.

“New girl,” I replied and Emmett nodded, guessing what I meant. As my family and I made our way towards our usual bench I noticed someone already seated. With no other empty tables available we continued towards it. It was unusual for anyone to sit at our table. It IS an unspoken rule that the table was ours. We sat down at the table with her; Alice and Jasper sat on the bench beside her while Emmett, Rosalie and I sat opposite them. Isolde, as I heard her called in the minds of the other students, had earphones in her ears and was busy sketching in a notepad. Her half finished plate of chips and pizza lay uneaten beside her. Her notepad was tilted up towards her so I could not see what she was drawing. Her face was bent forward, obscuring her features. My brothers and sisters were curious about her too. We all wondered why she had not made friends and why she was sitting alone.

“What is she thinking?” Alice whispered across the table. I blocked everyone else’s thoughts out and concentrated on hers. It was like she didn’t exist. I couldn’t hear anything, like being met by an invisible wall. Never before had I not been able to hear a person’s thoughts. I stared at her, perplexed.

“Well?” Emmett pushed.

“I…I can’t hear her,” I replied, shocked at my own discovery. Gasps erupted from my siblings as they too realised this had never happened before. The girl continued to draw, oblivious to our presence. With our heightened sense of hearing we could hear clearly the lyrics of the song The Pretender coming from her iPod.

“What if I say I’m not like the others?

What if I say I’m not just another one of your plays?

You’re the pretender What if I say I will never

surrender?”

Then as if sensing our presence she looked up. I was struck to find that she was very attractive. She had a small heart shaped face, her porcelain skin was so pale it rivalled that of my siblings. Her petite nose led to full, plump, ruby-red lips. Her eyes were a very dark shade of brown- almost black and were framed by dark long eyelashes and perfectly groomed dark eyebrows. Her lips and eyes offered a beautiful contrast of colour to her pale clear skin. Sitting directly across from me her eyes greeted me first. Slowly they travelled from my navy cashmere jumper to my face. She made a small gasp too silent for the surrounding humans to hear. Her startled eyes widened. They darted and took in the presence of Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper and Alice. Her body went rigid. I could hear Jasper’s analysis of her emotions in his mind; extreme fear and recognition. Her heart pumped at an unnatural rate, but still failed to drive the blood to her face, which had blanched to a ghostly white. Her plump lips parted, revealing rows of sparkling white perfect teeth and like the sigh of the wind she whispered “no”