Okay, so this is one of my first fanfics so please don't flame me for doing something wrong. There are a few notes that i must put in so that it makes sense:
1. this is an alternate fanfic; meaning that i basically change up the main storyline. In this fanfic, Bella never came to Forks and decided to move in w/ her mom and Phil. ?(sorry any Bella-fans, but my fanfic, my rules)
2. Raechel (the main character) used to go by Rose in NY (this might or might not show up)
3 She's not emo, she's just had some reeaaally bad experience w/ guys.
That said, here goes chapter one.
Chapter One: The Plane Ride to Nowhere
I gazed out of the airplane window at the shrinking view of New York City, The Big Apple, and my former home. I wondered if I was really making the right decision. Did I really have to leave? I thought to myself, Should I have stayed with Dad and Denise after all? Maybe I should have, but it didn’t really matter at that point, since it was a few thousand feet and a few hundred miles too late to change my mind. It wasn’t like I was leaving any friends behind, I’m not exactly a “people person”, in fact, I knew I wasn’t going to have any close friends in Forks, because I didn’t want to. The world had already proved its point in that respect. Plus, I hadn’t seen Dad or Denise in a while until they dropped me off at the airport this morning, and I didn’t have very many good experiences in NY. I was more afraid of where I was going. I was going absolutely nowhere. Sure, the plane was going to drop me off at Lancing International Airport, but from there it’s a three hour drive to nowhere. Ok, so it’s a little bigger than that, but it’s got nothing on The Big Apple. My mom lived in a small town, population approximately 3120. Soon to be 3121, once I arrived. It will be better, I told myself, you’ll get more time to yourself, and no one will bother with you, since you’ll be the new kid. I was pretty sure giving myself pep-talks wouldn’t help very much, but it couldn’t hurt. Suddenly there was a smiling flight attendant at my shoulder, making me jump. “Would you like a free bag of peanuts, sweetie?” she asked, still smiling, “We also have Coke and Pepsi products for one dollar, if you’d like something to drink.” She had that flight attendant smile plastered on her face, the “just hurry up and pick something so I can get on with my life” look that you must get after dealing with screaming kids and snobby jerks every day. I started going through my purse for a dollar, and ended up giving her three quarters, two dimes and a nickel. She gave me my Coke with another forced smile, and went on pushing her cart down the aisle. I scratched flight attendant off of my mental list of possible jobs because I probably would jump off the plane after a day or two. I started to think of the idle needs I’d have once I got there, such as new clothes, and job possibilities, because even with the promised check every month from Dad, I’d still need the income. I worried that Mom might worry about stuff Dad didn’t, like my habit of skipping class about once or twice every week. With Dad, well, he stuck me with tutors most of the time I was home when he went to practice or to party, so I was always an A-student, and I could probably keep it up without the tutors. I mused about these sorts of things for about half an hour before I must have finally fell asleep.
I woke with a start when the ever-smiling flight attendant touched my arm and informed me that we had arrived in Michigan. I suddenly realized that we were alone in the plane, and I hurried to get my stuff from the overhead bin. “Is that you guitar?” the flight attendant’s sudden question startled me, and I nodded. She seemed puzzled by something, as if she’d never seen a teenager with a guitar before. Most of the people I was used to (a.k.a the crowds of New York) didn’t ask questions and didn’t usually talk to anyone nearby, preferring to talk/text to someone either blocks or miles away, so I was suddenly unsure if I needed to say anything after nodding or not. Luckily for me, the pilot came, as if on cue, to take me off board. He seemed more like the people I was used too, with the quick, efficient strides that were made for getting to your destination without sidetracking with unneeded things like talking. That was what I was comfortable with; the nonsocial version of the New Yorker. Probably because being social wasn’t my best point.
When we got to the main terminal, my mom was waiting in what must have been her work clothes. The nametag was a dead giveaway in that respect. She rushed up and hugged me instantly, her long, midnight black hair streaming behind her like a banner. We were about the same height and we had the same color of hair, but that made up most of our similarities. Her eyes were a beautiful, deep green, while mine were stereotypical blue. Her skin was perfect; not too pale or too tan, while I was snow white incarnate. Also, our personalities were polar opposites. From what I remembered of her, (I hadn’t seen her for about four years) she always was open with her emotions and basically wore her heart out on her sleeve. She was pretty, kind, and always was surrounded by her friends. I knew better. I knew that the only things that ever really came out of letting yourself get close to people was getting hurt, hurting them, or both. I wasn’t going to let myself get hurt again, or hurt anyone else. And I especially was not going to make myself vulnerable for any boy. I pitied my mom, letting herself get hurt like that. It couldn’t be healthy. I hugged her back since she was my mom and seemed sincere. “I’ve missed you, Rachel. You’ve gotten so big! You really are a sophomore now, aren’t you? I can’t wait to go get you your wardrobe! Oh, I know the best mall for miles where we could get you some cute outfits for school. Shell River High might not be at the same level as your old private school, but I think it’s probably one of the best there is! And…” This went on for a while, and I nodded at the appropriate times, with what I hoped was an eager expression on my face while inside I groaned. Shopping was not something I enjoyed. By the time we reached the car, I could have cried. She expected me to bring friends home around once a week? I probably wouldn’t bring friends home at all! And boyfriends too?! I’d already promised myself I wasn’t going there again. Persuading her to my way of thinking was immediately proved impossible by her attitude, and her understanding my independence from society was obviously going to take some time. Maybe she would mind if I skipped school... If so, I was going to have to be sneaky about it. Suddenly Mom stopped talking as we were loading my various suitcases into the trunk of her Volvo, waking me from my thoughts. “I didn’t know you played guitar, Rae! Oh, why didn’t you tell me? Will you play something for me when we get home? Or, better yet, how about you play something while we drive, to make drive not seem quite so long? Here, take it and get into the car; I’ll finish this up.” Play what, exactly? Dad always said musicians always dead ended, so I never learned to read music. I learned to play guitar and a little bit of Piano. I could only play by ear; all I could do was make up a tune of my own when I felt like it. I would just play a few of my favorite tunes, I guessed. As I climbed into the car, I was alright with it. Not excited, but there could be worse things to happen. How long can three hours be? I mused.
Okay guys!! I know i haven't touched this in FOREVER!!! (alomost a year :( ) but life happens and i was a busy person this year. If anyones still seeing this at this point there's one thing I should clear up,before we get on to chaper 3! They are in Forks, I realize i said Michigan/ Lancing before, but I was typing late at night and wasn't thinking clearly. So sue me. Here goes Ch. 3!
Chapter 3: School
Waking up the next morning was extremely disorienting. I was used to waking up in a penthouse apartment to the faint tune of traffic and angry New-Yorkers down below. Waking up to still, utter silence was just creepy. Stretching, I made my way over to my closet, where I'd unpacked my clothes the day before. And by unpacked, I mean I threw all my clothes on hangers in no resemblance of order. Grabbing some ripped-up jeans and one of many tight-fitting tops (my dad's team had a partnership with Hollister, AE, and Aeropostle, so I was expected to be caught wearing their merchandise at all times, apparently) I got ready for school in about 10 minutes. I headed downstairs, ready to head out the door. Mom had stuck a note to the door, telling me good luck and to make sure I had a good breakfast. Since I never had a need for breakfast before, and wasn't going to start now, I headed out the door into the gloom. Luckily for me, it wasn't raining. At least, not yet. My phone went off as I was walking, a Hot Chelle Rae song I liked. I was tempted to just let it play, so I could listen to the song, but I sighed and picked up anyway. "Hello?" "Miss Saphiara? This is Many from Hot Rides, the people who are moving your car. I'm calling to tell you that it'll arrive at your new place tomorrow. By the way, is there any way you could ask you daddy to-" "Thanks for the info. Bye."I hung up, my not-bad mood going bad instantly. My first day at Forks High, and someone was already bugging me about my dad. I hoped my whole day wasn't going to be like this; I'd ditch school after an hour.
Arriving at the school right on time, I inwardly groaned. All the cars in the parking lot were hand-me-down beaters, as far as I could tell. the one exception seemed to be the shiny Volvo, which looked like a Porsche by comparison. My Mustang was going to stick out like a shiny, cherry-red sore thumb. Oh, yay.
Arriving at the front office, I was immediately aware of the overwhelming smell of nail polish. I guess some things are the same, small town or Big Apple. The lady sitting behind the front desk was doing her nails in a pink so bright it seemed to glow. She looked up at me, obviously startled, and then smiled. "Oh, you must be Raechel! We've all been expecting you. here sweetie, this is you schedule. If you need any help finding your classes, just ask one of your classmates." Of course they were expecting me. In a small town like this, strangers were probably only legends, ghost stories to be passed around the campfire. At least, that would explain the way all of the people in the office were openly staring at me. So much for small-town hospitality. Looking down at my schedule, I suppressed another groan. I had already taken all of these classes last year. Skipping was most certainly in my future.
My first period class went like this: First, the teacher made the "We have a new student" announcement, and I got to stand up in front of the ogling class. then, I got to pretend to take notes (a.k.a doodle) while the entire class stared and whispered. And guess what? The same happened in all of my classes, all the way to lunch.
At lunch, I grabbed an apple, a Coke, and some yogurt and looked around for someplace to sit.One thing about not needing people: It makes for lousy seating choices. I decided to go sit outside and eat in the gloom out there instead of the stares in here. On my way out, I passed a table of alabaster models. At least, that's what they looked like from an outside perspective. I'd seen their type in New York: kids rich enough to have their own plastic surgeons. Whoever their surgeon was, though, he must've been good. I'd never seen a job that good, and you'd need a whole line of super-model family to get features half that gorgeous. There was the gorgeous platinum-blond, with features that crushed girls self esteem everywhere on a daily basis. Then, there was a girl, pretty in a different, pixie-ish way. Next to her was your stereotypical muscle-head, laughing at something someone said. Then there was another guy, shaking his head at the muscle-head. I didn't pause as I walked on by, with all the practice of a seasoned New Yorker; I had most definitely seen stranger. On my way out the door I bumped into another one of them; this one with curly hair and almost-black eyes. I muttered an apology and walked on outside, to eat in peace and quiet. I turned to sit down, and saw that the guy with the curly hair was staring at me. Great, I thought, another small town guy... But then I started to get freaked out. Something about the way he was staring; no, not staring, glaring! Then he turned and walked inside, leaving me the one staring. I sat down to eat, wondering what that was all about. And hoping that I never had to run into him again.