*by Stephenie Meyer*



TWILIGHT - chapter 1 - FIRST SIGHT


When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table, tableau exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. suivant to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen par his unusual hair, sitting suivant to that single open seat.
As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face - it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.
I'd noticed that his eyes were black - coal black.
Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open siège in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit par him, be wildered par the antagonistic stare he'd donné me.
I didn't look up as I set my book on the table, tableau and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favori shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I let me hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.
Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.
I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the strange boy suivant to me. During the whole class, he never relaxxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white chemise pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked suivant to his burly brother.
The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the jour was finally coming to a close, ou because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this is normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.
It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.
I peeked up at him one plus time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.
At that moment, the cloche, bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose - he was much taller than I'd thought - his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.
I sat La Reine des Neiges in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.
"Aren't toi Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.
I looked up to see a cute, baby-face boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad.
"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.
"I'm Mike."
"Hi, Mike."
"Do toi need any help finding your suivant class?"
"I'm headed to the gym actually. I think I can find it."
"That's my suivant class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.
We walked to class together; he was a chatterer - he supplied most of the conversation, which made it eacy 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 toi stab Edward Cullen with a pencil ou what? I've never seen him act like that."
I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Edward Cullen'd usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.
"Was that the boy I sat suivant to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.
"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain ou something."
"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."
"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered par me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit par you, I would have talked to you."
I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.
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 P.E. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.
I watchde four volley-ball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained - and inflicted - playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated.
The final cloche, 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 bureau in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my enterance. 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 gisted 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 plus than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.
"Never mind, then," he a dit hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank toi so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.
I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip.
"How did your first jour go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.
"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. 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 accueil I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshiel 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.