June Elliott leaves her life in Manhattan for a simpler one with her aunt and uncle in Forks, Washington. However, after encountering William Cullen, a new member of the infamous Cullen clan, June begins to wonder what is in their minds, since they are the only people that she seems to feel connected to. After developing a relationship with the kind hearted Renesmee, his so-called "sister", June grows with the family. One encounter changes her entire view when she realizes what they truly are. With painstaking recovery comes revenge, heartache, and terror as June is hunted and lusted over. Her small town, rural life becomes exciting as she unites with wolves and vampires in an entirely new world.
I might be discontinuing my other series... this will be part of a new one! It's a break-off story! Enjoy!
2. First Day
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Forks High School. The sound of it made me anxious, agitated. I wasn't resenting, but I wasn't going to promote it either. It was time that I wore my hair down in its natural state--the free flowing, strawberry blonde strands in their reckless, fine curls. I didn't need much makeup, nor did I care for any. My skin was porcelain. It was one solid color, and it contrasted my dark blue eyes nicely. The only things I needed were clothes, and I'd been guaranteed a life supply ever since the womb. I picked out a simple outfit, black and white, one that begged to fit in.
Brooke and Tony were anxiously making breakfast when I came down into the kitchen that Monday morning. I could tell that Brooke wasn't one for the early hours. Her eyes were like slits and her voice was gravelly. She was hunched over two slices of bread in a long, white robe when I entered the room.
"Good morning," I mused. Uncle Tony was already in his construction gear with a cup of coffee in his hands. He raised it at me and took a sip.
"Hi, sweetheart," Brooke said, grinning as wide as her hard face could. "I'm glad you're up so early. Tony's offered to take you down to the school for a tour before it starts--"
"You know, I think I've got it."
They both stared back. Was that the wrong thing to say?
"Oh...if you're sure," Brooke said hesitantly. She stashed the sandwhich in a paper bag and walked toward me. Uncle Tony took another sip of his coffee.
"You know where everything is, Junie?" he asked. "It's not a big school, I just don't want you getting too caught up." I didn't need him to defend his answer. Was that the point I was getting across? Geez.
"No, thank you, Uncle Tony," I said. "I would love a tour, but I'm perfectly alright on my own." A moment of silence passed. "New York will make this look easy, right?"
They both grinned, surprised at my lightened humor. Don't buy it, I begged them. It means nothing.
I had never made a transition before, never had a need to leave. But every day, without fail, I was encountered by strangers. This could be no different. I would be surrounded by a surplus of strangers, it was just like New York. At least, it would be for a while.
The ride to school felt eternal. My car lolled through the damp streets. It was as though no progress was being made. How could this be the teenage experience?
School traffic hit right then. But there was no horn honking, or loud, masculine shouting. All I saw were scads of junky beater cars chugging into a small, square parking lot around a maroon brick school. My heart dropped when I saw that there were eyes following me into my spot.
Oh, no. It hit me. I'm making a spectacle.
Sure enough, I counted eighteen boys and thirteen girls crowded nearby the car, watching and whispering, and I was early. The total in the parking lot? Maybe forty. I couldn't sit and watch them, I wasn't completely invisible to these people. I grabbed my backpack and pretended to do homework. My skin was burning red. Why did they have to stare?
The crowd started trickling in. I had planned to get out of my car and run to my classroom and let everyone else observe as they walked in, but I decided in that instant that I now had to stay. There were too many witnesses, too many car admirers, and one too many sick-looking students with their faces dying to be pressed up against the glass. Don't hate, don't hate, don't hate.
I could hear the bell ring from my car. Everything stopped at the sound of an engine revving. I turned my head and saw two cars enter the parking lot. One was a concealed Mercedes convertible. The other was a black Volvo. My heart grew elated.
Finally, more cars to stare at. I turned to watch the crowd, but they were all making their way to the school. It was as if I didn't even exist anymore. What was going on?
Without a second thought, I grabbed my bag and jumped out of the car. I didn't want to hover here alone.
The front office was close to where I had originally parked. I decided that maybe being late to my first period class wasn't such a big deal in a school this size. It only took a few minutes to walk into the neat, small office. There was only one woman manning the desk, stashing papers everywhere. She was large and had kinky brown hair frizzing around her wide, pink face.
"Can I help you?" she asked, smiling up at me. How often did this school have visitors?
"I'm June Elliott."
"Ah, the transfer student." She sounded pleased. Her beefy hands started shuffling through papers on the desk. "Here you are, here's the schedule." She set a map and a schedule out for me to see, one with highlighted routes and supposed shortcuts. After a moment of explaination, she grinned.
"Well, my dear, looks like you're set."
"Thanks," I said back, a little less than enthusiastic. I held the papers in my hand and turned to face the cold, dark outdoors before me. Of course, it had to be raining again. And hard.
How could I forget a jacket? I should've known better, this is Forks, Washington. No other town in the entire United States gets this much downpour. And yet, I stood at the door, jacket-less. I was mentally drilling a hole in my head with a dangerous tool.
I was taking enough advanced classes to suffice the entire school program. First, I had Biology Honors in a building that the administrator had described as "pretty far out." How reassuring. My eyes traced the path on the paper, and then again with my mind, and I pushed the doors open.
First period was in a stuffy trailer behind the school. The teacher was a younger, well kept Jewish man named Mr. Pead. He smiled when I walked in and didn't even spare me the chance to speak before presenting my name and declaring me a seat near the back. Perfect,an opportunity to watch.
I scanned from left to right. Most of the kids were dressed in earth tones, as if this many years in the rain had washed them out. I could hardly tell one student from the other. Where were the stand outs?
That's when I saw them. Well, her. She was sitting in the farthest right corner, exactly parallel to me. The moment I turned my head to see her, she was already watching me with those dark, curious brown eyes. I shot my gaze away from her, staring back up at the teacher with eagerness. Why on earth was she staring? My mind tried to piece the image together.
Her hair was long, mid-back, and almost a bronze color. It was beautiful, so rich and thick, and curled gently. She had a small, sincere face set on her porcelain pallor. There was something unique about her style--the cashmere, bold creame sweater and forest green courduroy jeans. It took me a moment to realize that nobody wore clothes nearly as expensive as hers. She must've been the mysterious driver of the Mercedes, or the Volvo.
But she didn't look intimidating. She seemed kind, lovely. I could still feel her eyes on me.
I was growing anxious now. It took everything out of me not to stare back at her. The rest of the hour was spent in excrutating mental anguish. The moment the bell rang, I was up and heading towards the door, anxious not to get left behind with her.
But when I looked back, she was gone. My eyes darted to every corner of the room. How? There was no way she'd beaten me out, she had sat there while I stood. It had only been three seconds, right? My heart was beating fast now. I started to feel the intimidation settle in.
"Hi, June?" It was the boy who'd sat closeby me. He had sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes, but his face was colorless. He hovered over me a good six inches. I merely stared back. "I'm Alex Madsen." We shook hands. "So, um, how are you liking Forks?" Hands in the pockets. Slick.
"It's nice," I lied. "Not Manhattan."
"Not at all," he joked. We both started making our way out the door and into the rain. I had my eyes locked on the map, trying to decipher the next movement. "Let me see your schedule." I'm not sure why this agitated me. Could he not tell that I was busy?
He looked at the classes and grinned. "Hey, looks like we have PE together!" Yay, my favorite. I got curious.
"Um, Alex," I said quietly, looking around. Was he that excited to hear his own name? "Who was that girl in our last class on the back row, with the long hair?" His eyes got wide and his gaze shifted hesitantly. We started walking together.
"That's Renesmee Cullen," he said, barely a whisper. "There's, like, ten of them...the Cullen's. They're this big family in Forks. Dr. Cullen and his wife are, like, really young foster parents. It's weird."
"She's a foster child?" I struggled to believe that someone so pampered could be a foster child. He grimaced. The rain was picking up.
"Well, no, I think they're adopted now. Actually, I don't know." He started backing away. "I'll explain during lunch? Yes?" I nodded. At least I knew I wouldn't be eating alone.
But maybe, just maybe, I did want to eat alone. Some subconscious voice was begging me to eat alone, to melt in my own privacy, and spend the entire day being invisible. But I knew that I was far from invisible.
I didn't realize how much genuine curiosity I was sparking with my existence. I could see it in their faces. Some looked at me with luminous smiles, some with puzzling glances, and many with bitter stares. My second and third period classes were full of them, and far spread.
Advanced Language and Composition was my fourth period class, right before lunch. The class was full of the most artistic students in the school, many of which didn't differ from the mainstream of the student body. It was a classroom full of colorless, lower middle class residents of Washington. I'd seen it over and over again today. In fact, I'd gotten into the classroom early to speak to the teacher about finding a seat. He was a scrawny, younger man that went by Donnelly. He didn't want to stand from his desk, barely lifting his shy eyes above my chin. Discomfort.
"There's a seat on the back row," he chirped, looking down at his clipboard. "Right here, parallel to the desk." I thanked him and went to sit down. There were only two other kids in the room, and both had their oily, pubescent faces stashed in a book. Great, I thought. I'm one of those kids.
The others began to bounce in. The warning bell rang, and the flood increased, and by the tardy bell, the doors were crammed with students. Mr. Donnelly stood and began instructing them to take their seats.
I already recognized a significant amount of people from other classes. There was an empty seat to my left, but the right was now occupied by a brawnier boy with wavy brown hair and the same skin as everybody else. There was something friendly in his face as he turned to me and suppressed a smile.
"How's it going?"
His words took me by surprise. No introduction was needed. He already knew me. I dug my heels into the ground and leaned against the hard back of my chair.
"Good," I said quietly. Few students caught wind of the conversation and strained to listen. This boy continued to smile back coolly, leaning against his chair. I noticed that his skin was nicer than most of the others, cleaner and less flourescent. He wasn't particularly unattractive. There was something friendly in his manner.
"I'm Everett Lucas, I go by Rett," he said, not even bothering to extend a hand. I folded my arms across my body. "You're the New York girl."
"That's me," I said, trying to build my confidence. He smiled and let his eyes wander around the room, nodding.
"Manhattan. What a place." We were in whispers now. The teacher began calling role.
"You've been?" I shot back. My eagerness was too much. I took a breath and leaned back further into my seat. This was the first time all day I'd been animated. My cheeks were flushing with color.
He nodded. "I love it there, it's beautiful. I mean, in its own unique way." He paused, thinking. "I guess everyone has their own definition of what amazes them now." My heart was beating fast.
"In their own way," I repeated, feeling the heat continue to rise. Suddenly, I heard a name. One that caught my attention almost immediately. It wasn't the sound of my own name, or even one that I recognized, but a name that stood out to the point of making my brain spin.
I stared around the room like a dart, marking each and every seat to identify the infamous Cullen brother. Several silent seconds went by.
"He's left for a trip with my parents," someone said. It was her. That girl, the Cullen. Her thin, elongated body was stretched across her entire chair as she laid casually against it. Those thick curls tumbled down her back, and she was watching the teacher, a kind smile across her face. Her eyes darted to me for just a moment, and turned back down. What was this?
"Well, as he is not here, I suppose his partner, Miss Elliott, wouldn't mind partnering with Mr. Lucas and Miss Cordner to your right." I stared back. Did he say my name? Was I described as the partner of the missing student?
My heart skipped a beat. Of course.
Oh, lunch. Oh, how my expectations were high. Not.
Alex caught up to me after fourth period, lingering outside as though he’d memorized my schedule. The desperation wasn’t helping. We walked to the cafeteria together, which was in the central building of the school, and he steered me right up to a table in the middle of the room, among a handful of students. Was he popular? The table consisted of two dark haired girls, one of them had to be half-something, and two boys, one with thick, curly blonde hair, and the other being Everett Lucas. Alex quickly made his rounds of introductions. I recognized both girls from two other classes that I couldn’t remember.
“June, this is Camille Morrissey and Tasha Greene.” They both smiled up at me. “And this...” turning to the boys, “is Brady Hudson and his cousin, Rett Lucas.” I waved them all a hello and sat down between Alex and Brady.
“So, you’re from New York?” the dark Tasha girl said. I decided she must be part Indian. Sincere enough.
“Yeah, uptown Manhattan,” I replied. Everyone lit up. But I could feel the stares from all over the room.
“What did you do there?” Camille asked innocently. She was the best looking on the table by far, with her long, dark lashes over handsome green eyes that were hidden behind those black glass frames. There was something sincere in her heart-shaped face and small, thick lips. She was the shyest, it was obvious.
“I studied at a school there,” I offered. An academic Narnia. “And I studied ballet at the school.” Immediately the entire table was in raptures.
In New York, everyone is talented. Everyone has a skill set, whether it is business or sport. And everyone has a success rate, so there are no surprises, no amusement greater than another. I lived in a world of fantasy lifestyles. In Forks, Washington, it was like chosen communism. Everyone lived in the same types of homes, not many had a greater net worth than their neighbor, and the only talents were the middle class performance jobs. Trust me, the New Yorkers know they exist. They know they’re in the hierarchy. Why didn’t I think of it before I came here?
I silently vowed to tell no one else about it.
“So you’re, like, a ballerina?” Brady asked. He was trying to find some joke in the back of his brain to whip out. Ballet is such a cliche, but still, there was nothing coming to him. I was far too good at reading people. Megan was anxiously stuck on her smart phone.
“Yep, a ballerina,” I repeated. Rett continued to lean back in his seat with a satisfied look. Was he trying to be cool? All the attention was starting to eat at me.
“Oh my gosh,” Megan said. She looked up from her phone with wide eyes. That’s when I knew what was coming next. “’June Elliott, student at Joffrey Ballet School of New York City’....look at all these awards.” Everyone stood from their seats and crowded around Megan. I was swelling with embarrassment.
“It’s not like that,” I begged, but my voice was drowned out by the sound of a beautiful, musical voice.
Everyone turned. She was standing above me, with deep eyes looking down on me. In her hands, she held a maroon tray, her beautiful, white fingers wrapped delicately around the rim. She had that kind, sincere smile across her face, and she watched me with a pleasant look. Was I dead?
“Um, yeah,” Tasha said back. Everyone simply stared at Renesmee Cullen, nearly as shocked as I was. Hadn’t she spoken to them before?
“That’s a beautiful sport,” she said, locking eyes with me. In an instant, she was gone, making her way across the cafeteria, sauntering into a seat next to a beautiful, pixie-like white girl with dark, spewed hair and a sandy blonde boy with a serious, deep face. All three of them had dark circles under their eyes, and beautiful pale white skin. They were all equally breathtaking. What is this?
Brady spoke first. “I can’t believe it.” Another moment of silence passed.
“Renesmee Cullen just spoke to you,” Alex gushed. “She never speaks to any of us.” My face was burning.
“She’s just being nice,” I rebuked. There was no way they were being serious. Perhaps they were just overdramatizing it. But I knew that they weren’t. Nobody spoke back. They all simply stared at each other, shocked. Was this the social paradise I was entering into? If so, I’d never seen such an array of similar people in such disparate cliques. My mind decided to release the idea of this girl, and move on. Alex brought up the conversation, rambling on about a stupid video game, and the girls continued their meals in silence.
So, I guess this would be life.