Chapter Text
My father drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down, unbothered by my incessant shivering. It was sixty degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite sweater-a thin hoodie, dark grey with overlong sleeves; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was an ungainly raincoat, one that made a vinyl shifting noise every time I moved in it.
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington state, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant blanket of thunderheads. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the US. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my father fled with me when I was a few months old. It was in this town that I'd escaped to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I put my foot down; these last three summers, my elder sister vacationed with me in Prescott for two weeks instead.
It was to Forks that I now exiled myself-an action that I took with great trepidation. I detested Forks. I loved Phoenix, the constant sun, the blistering heat. I would laze by the pool most summers, sweating and deeply content.
"Hale," my father said to me, not for the first time today, at the airport terminal. "You don't have to do this."
We looked incredibly similar, much to my chagrin, with thick, dark hair, dark brown eyes and those always present eye bags that never seem to go away no matter how much sleep we managed to get. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at his narrowed eyes. Would he even let me board my flight? It wouldn't be the first time I'd had something within my reach only to have it snatched away. I shuddered, itching to board the plane before he could derail my plans.
"I want to," I lied. I'd always been a good liar, but I'd been repeating myself so frequently that it sounded like I was trying to convince myself. It was less a want, more a need. If I didn't leave now, I'd never get my freedom from him.
"Well, tell your sister I said hi."
"I will." I was starting to get sick of lying through my teeth, but he wouldn't understand how little either of us wanted to speak of him. No doubt we'd go back to pretending he'd never existed once I touched down in Washington.
"I'll see you soon, " he insisted. "You can come home whenever you want to, okay? I'll be right here as soon as you need me." I could see the desperation in his eyes behind the promise, and for a moment a pang of sympathy shot through me. He'd already lost one daughter and now I was taking the other away, for good. It disappeared as quickly as it came. There was a reason we'd both left as soon as physically possible.
"Don’t worry about me, " I replied with a fake smile, "It'll be fine. I love you." He tugged me into a tight hug, one that brought a flood of once happy memories, before I stepped away. Then I got on the plane and he was gone.
It was an hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a tiny, rickety plane to Port Angeles where I really thought we might crash and die, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. The only thing keeping me from spiraling into panic was the thought of the hour in the car with my sister.
She'd been really pleased about the whole thing, texting me nonstop about making plans and what it would be like to be on our own. Truthfully I was a bit nervous; it had been years since we'd lived together with any degree of permanence. What if the only thing keeping us together was the need to escape our family?
I shouldn't have worried so much, she'd already gotten me registered for my last year of high school and was going to help me get a car. By the time my plane touched down in Port Angeles-and my heart rate slowed back down to normal-my phone was littered with excited texts from her about seeing me for the first time in a while. A few of them mentioned the lack of sun-she knew, like our father, how much of a desert rat I truly was, and she was doing her best to assuage my fears of the constant downpour. I clicked one of the links she'd sent as I waited to be let of the plane and giggled-it was an online store for sun lamps.
Maybe this was the right decision after all.
When I ducked out of the small airport-tinier even than Mesa-Gateway, which I didn't think was even possible-it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen, just my new normal. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun in Phoenix, face turned up like a flower to the light to soak in the last of the pleasant heat I'd feel for a while.
She was waiting for me in the pickup line, next to a tiny car in an ungodly shade of orange. This, I was pleasantly surprised by. I'd half-expected her to be waiting with the ambulance and her small crew of EMS workers. She was a paramedic, one of the few in this small area of woods and town, and she took great pride in her work.
I couldn't help the smile that took over my features once I spotted her, and I bounded down the steps into her embrace.
"It's good to see you, Hale, " she said, squeezing me so tightly my ribs were probably in danger of bruising. I didn't complain, just wrapped my arms around her and squeezed back. "You've gotten so big," she laughed, "not like that scrawny twelve year old who used to beg me to take her in the ambulance." My nose wrinkled automatically at the reminder, but any shame I might have felt was overpowered by the relief of being there with her. "How's dad?"
"God, it's so good to be here, " I said into her chest, stealing a few more quick seconds of hug before stepping back. "He's the same as usual, I guess. I was afraid he'd make me stay."
"That's why we had you buy your ticket, not him, " she grinned. "Where's your stuff?" My sister gestured to the duffle slung over my shoulder. "That can't be all of it."
"Nah," I adjusted the strap to settle the weight more evenly across my back, "I was hoping you could help me drag my bags to the car." Most of my things were waiting at the baggage claim. I had stuffed what weather-appropriate clothing I could find into my duffle, which wasn't a whole lot, and the other things I couldn't live without ever seeing again had found a home in one of four other suitcases I'd dragged up north with me.
Mostly they were filled with books, familiar dog-eared paperbacks that had been my constant companion in Arizona. Our dad had promised to ship me anything I had forgotten or had to leave behind, but I knew I couldn't put my faith in that. Instead I’d packed books, notebooks filled with half-written stories and ramblings, polaroids of my friends and I, and every single knick-knack I thought I could get away with. The result was four bags that felt like they were filled with bricks, and a room devoid of nearly any proof of my existence outside my parents.
"Jesus, Hale," Ash groaned as she hefted one of the bags over her shoulder. "What did you fill this thing with, rocks?" I glanced at the bag in question and snickered. There were a few actual rocks in there, tucked between my copies of Lord of the Rings and The Death Gate Cycle. Gifts from our mother, points of fluorite and quartz, and the two massive lava rocks from our last trip to the lake two years ago. Despite the bickering, she helped me put everything into the back of her car, and soon we were on our way.
"I found a good car for you, really cheap," she announced when we were on the road.
"What kind of car?" I was assaulted by images of another bright orange monstrosity and grimaced. She glanced at me and laughed. God, it felt good to be sitting there with her.
"Don't worry, I know what you think of Jetson. It's a truck, actually. A Chevy."
"Where did you find it?"
"Do you remember Michael?" Hazy flickers of summers out on the lake and in the woods sprang to mind, but none of them were more than a faint impression of memory.
"Not really," I shrugged.
"He and his brother used to go fishing with us during the summers." That must be why I didn't remember him; those fishing trips were never as exciting as she made them out to be.
"They fixed it up really nice," she continued when I didn’t respond. "They got a newer car recently, and offered to sell me his truck cheap."
"What year is it?" I didn’t really care either way-a car is a car is a car-but I couldn't resist ribbing her a little. Her grin faltered, but sprang back up after a moment.
"Well, they did a lot of work on the engine, it's only a few years old, really." I opened my mouth to harass her about the vagueness of her phrasing, but she cut me off. "I already bought it, but trust me, you're going to love it."
"Holy shit," I yelped, "You really didn’t have to do that Ash. I was going to find something anyway."
"Don't worry about it, kid," she said, reaching over to ruffle my hair. I batted her hand away with an affronted mumble. I was turning eighteen this year, hardly a kid anymore. "I want you to be happy here. And besides, good old dad sure as hell wasn't going to pitch in. Consider it a homecoming gift. I won't be able to drive you around most of the time anyway, so it's was just the practical thing to do."
"Ash," I started, eyes welling with tears. "Thank you, really. You have no idea what that means to me." I rubbed my eyes viciously before I could start crying in earnest. "I'll find a way to pay you back."
"I will shoot you if you try," she preened. I could tell how pleased she was at my reaction-maybe she had been just as nervous as I was about the move. "Besides, it what sisters are for, right?"
The rest of the drive was spent with companionable chatter. Small things, like the weather, what the high school was like, plans for our common days off. Sitting there, with the rain pattering on the roof as we drove, felt more like home than any time in the last seventeen years in Phoenix. Eventually we lapsed into a comfortable silence, and I let my eyes stray to the scenery that whizzed by. It was beautiful, and strange, to be surrounded by moss-covered trees on all sides, unable to see the horizon or the familiar mountains of the Valley.
Everything was so green as I stared out the window. Bright green grasses waving in the breeze, a thick canopy of leaves overhead. Compared to the comforting beige of the desert, Forks felt like an alien planet. Even through the sheet of rain pouring down the only color I could see was green. A wave of homesickness washed over me, and I shoved it back down ruthlessly.
A pretty view wasn't worth staying in Arizona for another year.
After an hour or so of driving, we made it to my new home. She still lived in the small, two-bedroom house our grandparents had passed down to her after their death. That had been a fucking nightmare and a half, the rest of our family realizing they didn't have a claim to the family home. Secretly I had been pleased, and more than a little jealous, that she had an escape plan while I was stuck at home. But soon enough that house became my refuge during the summers, and any bitterness faded away into contentment. If anyone deserved it, it was her.
She maneuvered Jetson up the steep driveway and into the garage, but not before pointing out the truck parked on the side of the road. It was a faded red that once may have been the bright color of maraschino cherries, with big rounded fenders and a large cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it immediately. It looked sturdy and comfortable, the kind of truck that could take a head on collision and decimate the other car without a scratch to its own bumper. I grinned up at my sister as she awaited my reaction. Her shoulders relaxed as I started to babble excitedly about it.
"I love it so much, oh my god!" Before she could slide out of the car I leaned over and stole a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Ash laughed and squeezed me back.
"I'm really glad you like it, Hale. 'Course, it was either this, walking two miles in the rain, or taking the ambulance, so I'm not super surprised."
"I love you, but I would rather be shot dead than take the ambulance to school."
It only took one trip between the two of us to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard, the one with big windows to let in as much light as possible. The room was familiar; as kids we had spent our summer nights tucked into a rickety bunkbed. The dark wooden floor, the sage green walls, the peaked ceiling, the wispy curtains around the windows-it was as much a part of my childhood as our grandparents were. The only changes Ash had made were switching the old bunkbed for a queen and adding a bulky desk in the corner. A small tv had been mounted on the wall across the bed, above the ancient dresser, and a stack of movies sat underneath, just waiting for my perusal. The huge, creaky bookshelf of our childhood was still there, and it eased my anxiety of moving to see it. My first course of action was to stick my laptop on the desk and plug it in to charge. Our dad had made me promise to email him once I had arrived, as the cell reception could be spotty during the worst of Forks' storms.
There was a small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which we would have to share. I tried not to dwell too much on that fact; as kids Aislyn and I had fought viciously over bathroom time. Aislyn had to leave for the station almost as soon as we arrived, so she pointed out the leftovers in the fridge and handed over the wifi password before heading out.
"I'm on a 24/48 schedule this week since you were coming," she said before she left. "Next week I'll go back to 48/96 but everyone wanted to give us a chance to settle in before school starts." I gave her one last hug, promised her I would be okay with being on my own, and went to start unpacking.
It was nice to be alone, with just the music from my phone and the sounds of the house settling around me. Without our dad hovering it was easy to think, and with Aislyn away at work, I could let some of my nerves show. My hands trembled slightly as I started to tuck my books away on the bookshelf. It had been an easy decision in the moment to move to Forks. Not only was it going to get me out of that hellhole, I really had missed my sister fiercely. But now that I was surrounded by the pouring rain I let myself wonder just what the hell I had gotten myself into.
I was a senior in high school this year, and I had left everyone and everything I had known behind. All of my friends were still in Arizona, the ones I had known from elementary school, and the familiar gridded streets of home were miles away. I collapsed onto my bed in a heap, and let a few tears escape as I stared out at the dark grey sky.
It was a necessary decision, I told myself, but it didn't change the fact that I was starting a new school in two days. A new school were everyone was just as close as I had been to my old friends. Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred fifty seven-now fifty eight-students. My junior class had been almost eight hundred students back home. I would stand out like a sore fucking thumb if I couldn't manage to make a few friends. And I didn't have major confidence in my ability to do so. What would we even have in common?
I would be the new girl from the big city. A curiosity. Maybe, if I was a social butterfly like the girls back home, the tall, strong volleyball and soccer players, I would have a chance. As it was I already felt more like hiding in the school library at lunch than stumbling through conversation with strangers.
It's not like I didn't want to make friends. I just have always had a hard time. It was easier to stick with the few close ones I had than to branch out, to try to explain the idiosyncrasies that came with dealing with my batshit family. Nobody was ever allowed over at our house, and I had spent most of my childhood confined to my room due to whatever erroneous mistake my parents had thought I was making. At least the girls I had grown up with knew how to handle my absences.
Although, maybe here, with Aislyn, it wouldn't be so bad. She certainly wouldn't ground me unless I really fucked up, and even then it probably wouldn't be to the 224 square feet of my new bedroom. That realization cheered me up somewhat, and I pushed myself up onto my elbows. The least I could do was try.
With a newfound sense of determination, I set back to unpacking my belongings. My clothes went into the antique dresser, the crystals onto the windowsill. I set my raggedy unicorn pillowpet onto the window seat with the blanket I crocheted last winter, then snagged my toiletries to head into the bathroom.
Stuffing my necessities under the sink, I got a good look at myself in the mirror. Already it seemed like the color had leeched from my skin, turning it paler than normal. I wasn't tan, not by a long shot, but the freckles I had so carefully cultivated would slowly start to disappear under the lack of sun. A flash of disappointment panged through me-I really did like my freckles. My unruly hair had already started to unravel from its bun, so I undid it and let it fall past my shoulders in a thick, dark curtain. . Aside from my freckles, my hair was my other vain point. A rich brown, it fell in loose curls to the small of my back. In the heat of Arizona I normally wore it up in a bun, or a ponytail, regardless of how much it made my skull ache. I sighed in relief as the sharp pain eased from my scalp and I let my eyes fall shut. At least I would be able to wear it down more often, I thought, as I ran my fingers through it to get the worst of the knots out
After I finished unpacking I heated up some leftovers in the microwave. It was too quiet in the house, so I stuck a movie in the dvd player in the living room to watch while I shoveled pasta into my mouth. I hadn't had a chance to eat lunch during the layover between Seattle and Port Angeles, and I was absolutely starving. By the time the movie was over and I had satiated my hunger, it was pitch dark outside and the worst of my anxiety had passed. No doubt it would creep back up in the next few days, but I was determined not to let myself wallow.
I didn't sleep well that night. The rain had picked up considerably, thunder crashing around the house like something was banging against the walls. Storms like this were uncommon back home, even during the monsoon season, and I found myself tossing and turning in the darkness of my room. I pulled the faded old quilt up to my chin and stuck my earbuds back in. But even with my sleep playlist drowning out the worst of the thunder, I didn't slip into sleep until past midnight.
Thick, grey light poured in through my window when I woke the next morning. When I peeked out past the curtains I was greeted with a haze of fog that obscured even the trees across the road and I shivered. It felt like a cage here; I hadn't even seen the sky.
I wrapped my blanket around my shoulders like a cape and trudged downstairs, stifling a wide yawn with the back of my hand. My sister would still be gone for most of the day, which left me with a dearth of time and no idea how to spend it. In my sleep-fogged state I stumbled a little on the last stair and almost faceplanted.
Coffee first, then.
It took some time to scrounge up the ground coffee from the cabinet, but while I hunted I let myself get a feel for the layout of the kitchen. I'd be on my own for food during her shifts, after all. Poking through the different cabinets I found a stunning lack of anything that could be considered organic or health-food, and pleasure shot through my body. Finally, some good fucking food.
I made myself a tiny plate of scrambled eggs and drank three cups of blisteringly hot coffee before my brain started working. I'd have to email my dad today, no doubt, but I figured I could get away with waiting until the last possible minute to do so. I planned on distancing myself from his as quickly as possible; since he was 1500 miles away there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
Instead, I snagged my laptop, a movie, and blanket from upstairs and curled up on the couch in the living room. A few hours passed as I chatted with my friends back home, sending assurances that I was settling in fine and hadn't drowned from all the rain just yet. After that I put the movie in and settled in for a lazy day.
A hand shaking my shoulder shook me out of sleep and I startled, jerking away in a panic. Aislyn's voice filtered in through my sleep-addled brain and I blinked away the crust from my eyes.
"There you are, sleepyhead," my sister grinned down at me, "Did you spend all day sleeping?" I stretched my arms over my head, groaning when my back gave with a satisfying pop. The dvd had cycled back to the menu and the living room had grown steadily darker during my impromptu nap. She must have turned the lamp on when she got home, as soft yellow light diffused throughout the room, warding off the worst of the shadows. I shook my head with a yawn.
"Didn't mean to," I mumbled, "guess I was just tired from the trip."
"No doubt, you were snoring like a chainsaw," she laughed. "Come on, I brought dinner home." We ate in companionable silence, only broken up when I asked her about her day. It was a quiet shift for her, she explained. No real emergencies aside from a few falls and one patient who had missed a dose of medication and started seizing. She reassured me that they were taken care of and doing okay, which was extremely nice to hear. Some of her shifts don't have such happy resolutions. After dinner we both ended up heading to bed, and despite the early hour I fell asleep quickly.
The next morning was what I'd been dreading: my first day at Forks High School.
Breakfast with my sister was a quiet event. Neither of us could be considered morning people, and we ate in silence. She wished me good luck at school, and offered to drop me off. An offer I vehemently denied. The last thing I needed was to be dropped off like a little kid again. I assured her I would be fine and got ready in record speed.
Already my anxiety was driving me into a tizzy; my hands shook as I buttoned up my flannel and tugged on my coat, and I could feel my breathing quicken in short bursts.
Relax, I chided myself as I ran a brush through my hair, it's going to be fine. With that comforting thought in my head, I headed out into the rain.
It was drizzling still, which was a welcome relief from the storm of the last two days. I shut the door behind me, wiggling the tricky knob as water dripped into my hair and down the back of my neck. The sloshing of my new boots in the puddles was unnerving. I already missed the crunch of gravel underfoot. I couldn't stop and admire my truck again as I was in a hurry to get out of the sticky humidity that swirled around me. My hair frizzed up in the corner of my vision and I scraped it back behind my ears with a frown.
In the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Simeon or Ash had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. It was a familiar scent, one from my distant childhood, and it helped ease my spiking nerves. The engine started, to my intense relief, roaring to life then idling at top volume. Luckily, the radio had one of those cassette tape aux plugs already in the slot, and I plugged my phone in with a little smile. Not even a week into my stay in Forks and my sister was already taking such good care of me.
Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, set just off the highway. It wasn't obvious it was a school; it wasn't until I spotted the weathered sign declaring its name that I stopped. There was a distinct lack of fences around the school, which surprised me. I was unused to schools not looking like a prison; Forks High was the complete opposite. A small collection of colorful buildings greeted me as I pulled into the parking lot, surrounded by so much greenery that it might as well have been smack dab in the middle of the woods.
At least it would be easy to skip if things got too crazy.
I pulled up in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door declaring it the front office. No one else was in the parking lot yet, so I figured I could get away with pulling up to the curb and hopping out of the cab. It wasn't a fire lane, at least, but I hoped no one would begrudge me the few minutes it would take to get directions. The school may have been half the size of my last school but I wasn't going to take the chance of getting lost and looking like an idiot.
Frigid air assaulted me as soon as I left the toasty warm cab, and I hurried into the building, clutching my coat around me. I tried to steady my breathing as I walked up to the door-in for four, hold for seven, out for eight-and by the time I stepped into the office I was almost confident I wouldn't break out into a panic.
Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. I unzipped my jacket a touch as I strode towards the reception desk. The office was small; a little waiting area with weathered chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls. A big clock ticked loudly overhead. Large fern-adjacent plants were stashed everywhere in large pots, as if it wasn't already green enough outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, which was covered in neat piles of papers, flyers, and various office equipment. There were three desks behind the counter, only one of which was occupied. The woman noticed me and smiled right as I noticed her t-shirt and lack of weather-appropriate gear; suddenly I felt a little silly to be so bundled up.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm Hale," I said, "the new-"
"The new student, of course!" Her smile brightened considerably, which I didn't realize was even possible, and she stood up to hurry around the counter. She snatched a few papers on her way towards me, and I stepped back a half-step on instinct. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She gestured to each one as she spoke, and then went back to her desk to scrounge for a highlighter. "I'm sure you're nervous to be starting a new school so close to graduating, but don't worry. Everyone here is really welcoming, and you'll fit right in."
I doubted that intensely. Still, I let her run through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each one on the map. Then she handed me a slip to have each teacher sign, informing me I would need to bring it back to her at the end of the day. She wished me a good day and let me know to come back if I had any questions. Before I knew it, I was trudging back out into the cold, wet, day.
When I went back to my truck, other students were starting to fill in the parking lot. I circled around the school, following the line of traffic. This much, at least, was familiar to me. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing too flashy. At home, it wasn't uncommon to see shiny, brand new cars in the school parking lots; gifts bestowed upon students by devoted and loving parents who had cash to spare. Everything from Mercedes to even the ever-popular Mustang were common sights in the student lot. Here, the nicest car was some kind of shiny, silver, muscle car, clearly a classic, and it stood out in sharp contrast to the more practical vehicles surrounding it. Once I found a spot not too far from the school's entrance, I cut the engine; hopefully its thundering roar wouldn't attract too much attention. I stared at the map in the cab of the truck, attempting to commit it to memory, even though I knew it would be futile. Hopefully I wouldn't spend most of the day squinting at it and bumbling around the halls like a complete idiot. After a few minutes, I stuffed everything into my backpack, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath.
I can do this. It didn't seem as much of a lie as it did earlier this morning, but it was still with an overarching feeling of trepidation that I slid out of the truck. I pulled my hood back over my hair in an attempt to ward off the worst of the drizzle, and marched towards the school.
No one bothered me as I shuffled past, too preoccupied with their conversations or last minute homework to notice me. Thank God. Once I made it around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot, what with the large "3" painted on the corner. I kept up my regimented breathing as I approached the door, even as I felt panic crawling up my spine.
The classroom itself was tiny, crowded with desks and yawning students, all in a state of sleepy quiet. The people in front of me stopped to hang up their coats on hooks just next to the door, and I followed suit. Even with my long sleeves the difference was startling and goosebumps prickled along my arms. The two girls chattered quietly as they walked to their seats, both clutching thermoses of what I only assumed was coffee. That was a good idea. I tucked that information away for later, already planning to scrounge up my own thermos at home.
I took the slip of paper up to my first instructor of the day, a tall, balding man, whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He had a sour look to him, like he hated everything about his job and his position in the world; I disliked him immediately. His scowl deepened when he saw my name-not an encouraging sign. It took everything in me not to scowl back, and instead I stared at him with as much of a blank face as I could muster. Thankfully he sent me to an empty desk in the back of the class without making too much of a fuss.
As he called the class to order, I glanced over the reading sheet he had given me. It was fairly simple: Shakespeare, Orwell, Austen, Dickens. Nothing extremely exciting, and I'd already read the plays he had assigned. The only title that piqued my interest was Beowulf; I'd been meaning to read that anyway. Mason droned on for close to an hour and I felt myself already slipping into disinterested daydreaming.
The bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound that shook me out of my thoughts. As I started packing up, a tall, gangly boy with a shock of white hair and dark blue eyes leaned across the aisle to talk to me.
"You're Hailey, aren't you?" He grinned, pleased like a cat that had caught the canary, and I felt my shoulders tense.
"Hale," I corrected, stuffing my pen into the front pocket of my bag. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.
"Where's your next class?"
"Government, with," I dragged my schedule back out of my back pocket, "Jefferson." His smile only grew, and I got the impression that he already knew.
"I'm Solomon," he said, holding out his hand for a shake. "I'm heading to building four, I could show you the way." I stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, and he dropped it without losing the smile.
"Um. Sure," I couldn't very well turn down his help without looking like a complete asshole, so I resigned myself to my apparent new escort. "Thanks," I added, half a moment too late for it not to be awkward. We headed towards the front of the class, and the spell was broken. Students around us started packing up and rushing towards their next class. I shrugged into my jacket, and was grateful I had done so when we stepped outside. The rain had picked up considerably, and we started to slosh our way to class. I could have sworn that several people followed us close enough to eavesdrop, but I tried to ignore them.
"So, this is quite different from Phoenix, huh?" He asked.
"Yup."
"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"
"Not really, only a few times a year."
"What must that be like?" He grinned at me as we walked and I felt some of the tension seep from my body. He was just being friendly.
"Hot. And sunny," I smiled tentatively at him.
"You're not very tan," he pointed out, so helpfully.
"We spend a lot of time in the AC," I shrugged. "It's hard to tan when it's 110 out." He studied my face apprehensively, like he didn't quite believe me, and I sighed. It was going to be a long day. We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Solomon walked me right up to the door, and I couldn't help the flash of irritation that passed through me. It was clearly marked as Government, I wasn't going to get lost at this point.
"Good luck," he said, and patted me on the shoulder. "I'll see you around. Maybe we have some other class together." He left before I could form a response, leaving me frustrated and scrubbing at the spot where he'd touched me. God, if everyone was so touchy I'd go insane before the semester was over.
The rest of the morning was pretty much the same, which I counted as a blessing. Only my calculus teacher made me introduce myself to the class. I stared at the bored faces of my classmates for a moment before rambling off some irrelevant fact about Arizona and hurried to my seat, neck and ears prickly with heat.
After a few classes, I started to recognize a few of my fellow students. Everyone was surprisingly friendly, though only a few mustered up the interest to introduce themselves to me. Everyone asked me how I was doing, how I was liking Forks, and it was surprisingly easy to tell the truth. I did like it here, for the most part, but it would take some getting used to the rain.
At least I never needed the map.
One girl sat next to me in Calculus and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. Her hair was an unexpected riot of color, pink and purple strands that faded into blue and fell to her shoulders, and she chattered almost nonstop about pretty much everything. She had a few inches on me, so I had to look up at her while she spoke, but already I could tell she was wickedly funny. I felt a bit bad about not remembering her name, but she didn't seem to mind when I asked her to repeat it.
"My name's Reiko," she said as we entered the cafeteria, "but everyone just calls me Thirteen." She led me to a table at the back of the cafeteria before I could question that, and sat me down next to her friends with an encouraging smile. The boy from English, Solomon, was there, and they started whispering conspiratorially almost as soon as we sat down. Her friends drew me into a conversation about classes, and that was when I saw them.
They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where we sat as possible in the long room.
There were six of them. They weren't eating, which was odd, but they weren't staring at me either, which made it easier for me to stare at them without fear of being caught. They were chattering quietly in their little group, except for one, who sat stock still and seemed to be keeping an eye on the rest of them.
It wasn't any of this that caught, and held, my attention.
They didn't look anything alike. Of the group, there were five boys and a single girl, whose hair curled in loose waves down her back, shining like it was lit from behind. Of the boys, the silent one was tall, almost rail thin, with severe features and ink black hair. Another was shorter, with strawberry blond curls that danced around his shoulders, and even from this far, as I watched his hands flutter animatedly, I could tell he had a dancer's grace to him, lithe and flexible. The third, the loudest, was tall, almost as tall as the dark-haired one, with tan skin and fingers adorned with rings of varying shapes and sizes. His hair was white, somehow lighter than Solomon's, and fell into his eyes as he spoke. He had an easy grin, and I watched him for a moment, entranced, before shaking my head to clear it. The other two were immersed in their books, a blonde with a faint scowl and another head of dark hair, the latter with large headphones positioned over his ears.
And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was tall, with clear, soft skin, and dark eyes. They also had shadows under those eyes, purplish, bruise-like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless week, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.
But even this was not why I couldn't look away.
I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all impossibly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see, except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was difficult to decide who was the most beautiful-the brunette girl or the white-haired boy.
They were all looking away-away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. Even as they bickered between each other, they seemed painfully detached, somehow. Separate from everything else. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray-food untouched-and walked away with a quick, graceful lope, that belonged to a predator more than a high schooler. I watched, amazed at her lithe step, until she dumped her uneaten food and dashed through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. I glanced back at the others, who hadn't seemed to notice her absence.
"Who are they?" I asked the girl from Spanish, in a hushed whisper, half afraid they would notice me.
As she looked up to see who I meant-though already knowing, given my tone-suddenly he looked at her, the tan one with snowy hair. He looked at Thirteen for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes slid over to me. His lips quirked upwards at the corner, an almost-there smirk. I dropped my gaze, suddenly embarrassed, and felt myself flush as I stared at the table instead. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest-it was as if I'd said his name, and he'd looked up in an involuntary response, already having decided it wasn't worth his time to answer. I let my hair fall to shield my burning face from his gaze and cursed my stupidity.
Thirteen giggled at my embarrassment, looking at the table like I had.
"Those are the Morningstars," she said, not even deigning to hide what she was talking about. "Lucifer is the dark-haired one, then Mammon, Asmodeus, Satan and Leviathan," she pointed them out with a surreptitious gesture. "The one that left was their sister, Lilith."
I glanced through my hair at the beautiful boy-Mammon, my brain supplied-who was grinning widely now, mouth moving as he spoke at a rapid pace to his companions. He picked at his food as he spoke, tearing his sandwich into tiny, perfect pieces with those long, tan, ring-laden fingers. Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names that brought to mind old religious fanaticism, the occult. Maybe those names were en vogue here, in this quiet, sodden town. Solomon had an odd name, too. But then again, there was Reiko (despite her strange nickname), and some of the other girls in my classes. A Dillon, a Mina. Perfectly normal, if uncommon, names. There was a Mina in my history class back home.
"They're very…" I struggled for a moment to find the right word, and ended up finishing lamely with "pretty". Dillon, sitting on my other side, rolled her eyes, but Mina giggled.
"Pretty is an understatement, Hale," she managed through her giggling. "It looks like the twins are out sick today, though."
"Twins?" They must have a busy household, I thought, if there were eight of them living together. I winced in sympathy, even the Mormon friends I had at home didn't have that many siblings.
"Well, one of them has been doing school part time, I think he does most of it online," Mina amended. "But the other one, Beel, he's usually here every day." Her tone held more mirth than condemnation, and it dawned on me that the Morningstars must be a constant topic of conversation for the students of Forks. I couldn't lie, if there had been anyone who looked like them in Phoenix, it would have been the same.
"They're all related?"
"Yeah, it’s a sad story," Thirteen said. "Apparently something happened to their parents. I think Lucifer, he's technically the oldest, got custody over them so they could stay together."
"That's not it," Dillon interjected, "They were living with the mayor for a long time, but he helped Lucifer get emancipated last year. I think they're still technically under his custody, but they all live in the old Morningstar house." She glanced at the strange little family and shrugged. "If I'm being honest, Lucifer is probably more of a hardass than the mayor ever was, so they're in good hands. Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan," she continued, counting them off on her fingers, "are the oldest, all seniors. Then it's Asmo and Satan, the juniors. The other three, the twins and Lilith, are juniors too, but only because they skipped a year ahead."
"Oh," I said, trying to take in all this information, "that's nice of the mayor to take them in."
"I guess so," Dillon said, her mouth tilted in the slightest of frowns. "I think he's their uncle or something, so it would have been messed up if he didn't." Throughout our conversation, I couldn’t help but glance at their table, again and again. They continued to bicker and not eat, but Lucifer's mouth had twisted into a scowl.
"Have they always lived here?" I felt like I would remember them, even if we had just passed by each other during my summers here. They were too otherworldly for me to have forgotten.
"They moved here not long before you, actually. Two years ago," Mina said, in a voice that implied, not unkindly, that I was being kind of dumb. "They moved here from Alaska." I felt a sudden surge of pity, and relief. Pity, because even after two years they were still clearly outsiders. And relief, followed by a fast surge of guilt, because I wouldn't be the focus of anyone's attention. Not when eight beautiful, perfect strangers were haunting the school halls.
"So the one with white hair," I started, unsure of how to hide my embarrassingly obvious interest, "that's Mammon?" I peeked at him again and nearly jumped out of my skin. He was staring back at me this time, all traces of his earlier smirk wiped clean. His brows were furrowed as he looked at me, not in anger, but in expectation, it seemed. Though what he was expecting of me was a mystery I wasn't sure I wanted to solve. I turned bodily away and faced the rest of our table.
"Yup," Solomon said, popping the "p". "He's gorgeous, no doubt. But don't waste your time Hale, he doesn't date. No one here is good enough for him, apparently." The way Solomon spoke felt different from average jealousy, it was like he was commenting on the weather, the facts of life. I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment, stuck in thought. Before we could continue gossiping, the five of them rose, all at once, and left the table together. They all had the same predator's grace as their sister. It was unsettling to watch, like seeing a lion stalk its prey.
The one named Mammon didn't look at me, and I couldn't help the pang of disappointment that flickered in my chest. I sat at the table with Thirteen and her friends for a few more minutes, before the bell rang and the cafeteria started to clear out. I had planned on leaving lunch early in order to find my next class, but I found myself rushing with the other students. Mina informed me as we were dumping our trays that she also had AP Bio next hour, and offered to walk with me.
We walked together in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. She seemed happy enough to simply enjoy my company, and I was still mulling over everything they'd told me during lunch. When we entered the class, Mina left me to sit at a lab table in the back corner. I stepped up to introduce myself to the teacher, and that was when I saw him.
Sitting at the only empty lab table, was Mammon Morningstar. He was scrolling through his phone, clearly uninterested in the goings on around him. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I handed my now crinkled slip to the teacher. Mr. Banner signed the slip of paper and handed me a book, not even pretending to care for introductions otherwise, and sent me to my seat. I kept my eyes down as I walked back towards the center aisle, and the only empty seat. As soon as I approached, Mammon suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, this time meeting my eyes with the strangest expression. A bolt of fear shot through my stomach. It was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, heart hammering in my chest, and fumbled into the seat next to him.
The chair made a loud scraping noise as I pushed it as far away from him as possible, and I winced. Someone in the next aisle over giggled. I replayed the image in my mind over and over again, certain I'd misinterpreted. But there was no mistaking his antagonistic glare. Or his eyes. They were black. Coal black.
I didn't look up as Mr. Banner brought the class to order, making sure to shake my hair out as a shield between us once again. I peeked through the dark curtain, now a familiar course of action. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face, like he smelled something disgusting. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled fine to me, like the mango shampoo I had used last night. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff posture. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a first, tendons standing out from under his tan skin. This too, he never relaxed. My hands clenched in sympathy, his rings would probably cut into his skin if he clenched his hand any tighter.
Any embarrassment I felt quickly drained into furious anger over the course of the lesson, even as I couldn't stop myself from stealing glances at him. He wore a plain black t-shirt, with no trace of discomfort at the cold, and dark jeans that made his legs look impossibly long. His forearms were surprisingly muscular, something I hadn't noticed from across the cafeteria. He looked far sturdier away from his thin siblings.
Bio seemed to drag on for hours. I blamed his nasty attitude. No wonder they didn't fit in, I thought a little snottily, if this was how they treated everyone around them. Maybe Solomon had been right, he did see everyone as beneath him. Though it wouldn't exactly explain the outright hostility I could feel radiating from him as we sat in uncomfortable silence.
Even as I seethed, I reasoned with myself that I couldn't have done anything to upset him this far. He didn't know me from jack, and he had seemed just fine not forty minutes earlier. I glanced at him one more time and regretted it immediately. He was glaring at me this time, his black eyes full of revulsion. I flinched away from him and berated myself for it. Why should I let him treat me this way? I moved my hair and glared right back at him.
The bell rang, interrupting our impromptu glaring contest. I jumped, and Mammon bolted from the room. I hated how gracefully he fled from my presence. I sat frozen in my seat, glaring after him. What a dick. I clenched my hands into fists once, then again, feeling my white-hot anger drain with the movement. After that I could force myself to begin gathering my things, shoving my books into my bag with a snarl.
What had I ever done to him?
"Aren't you Hale?" A male voice asked, cutting through the haze of red in my vision. I looked up to see a tall, dark boy, with dark curly hair and a friendly smile.
"That's me," I snapped, then shut my eyes in shame. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," I gave him a sheepish smile. Mammon had really managed to ruin my whole mood without even speaking a word.
"No worries, I get how stressful first days can be." He held out a hand, and this time, I shook it. "I'm Simeon," he said.
"Hi, Simeon." I opened my mouth to continue, but half a memory flashed through my mind before I could. "Simeon," I repeated, mulling his name over, "Michael's brother?" He beamed at me, obviously not having expected me to remember him.
"The very same! It's been so long, it's good to see you settling in."
"Yeah!" My enthusiasm sprang back to life. Finally, somebody I knew. "It's really good to see you too! Oh, thanks for the truck," I said, "It's perfect, actually."
"Oh, that old thing? No worries, " he laughed. Simeon had a nice laugh, tinkling, almost musical. "I was surprised when your sister asked about it, but we wouldn't have sold it to anyone else. Do you need any help finding your next class?"
I didn't, but I thought of Mammon's hostility and paused.
"Actually, yeah, I think I do. I have AP Euro next hour."
"That's my next class, too." He seemed actually, genuinely thrilled at the prospect and I couldn't help but smile in the face of his burning enthusiasm. "Come on, you can tell me all about your first impression of our little town on the way." I did, in fact, do just that. I left Mammon's strange behavior out, not wanting to get angry all over again. Simeon was nice to talk to, pleasant and sweet, and it was easy to fall back into our old patterns. It felt right talking to him and joking, like we had spent all our childhoods together, not just the summers.
Everything was going fine, and then, as we were walking into our next class, he turned to me with a slight frown.
"So, did you stab Mammon with a pencil or something? I've never seen him act like that." A groan escaped before I could stop it and I put my head in my hands. Of course I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And apparently, he had had a problem with me.
"I didn't even speak to him, Simeon," I whined. "I don’t know what I could have possibly done to make him hate me on sight." Simeon smiled reassuringly at me and patted my shoulder, an almost exact imitation of what Solomon had done earlier.
"Don't worry about it too much, they can all be pretty strange sometimes. I doubt you did anything wrong."
My last class passed much more pleasantly, not only because of the lack of angry, mysterious boys. Simeon sat next to me, and we were able to keep chattering the whole period. Our teacher handed out the syllabus and set us into pairs to go over everything, promising we would have a quiz on it the next day to make sure we understood the heavy load of the class. I was looking forward to AP European history.
This time around, the class seemed to end far too early, and soon enough I was heading back towards the office. The rain was still pouring down in buckets, and I hugged my arms around myself. I would be glad to get back home, where it was warm, and most importantly: dry.
When I walked into the school office, I almost turned around and walked back out.
Mammon stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized first, that impossibly soft cloud of hair, then his warm, tan skin. He didn't appear to notice the sound of the door opening, half-leaned over the counter and arguing with the registrar. His voice was low, smooth like velvet, or smoke, or the whiskey my dad liked to drink in the evenings. I froze on the threshold, caught between wanting to flee and needing to eavesdrop on his conversation.
I didn't get to make the choice; his voice rose with his frustration. Not quite yelling, but obviously displeased. The conversation became obvious quickly. He was trying to switch from our shared biology class another time. Any other time.
My anger ignited at his tone. What the hell had I done to deserve this? Absolutely nothing. It had to have been something that happened before I even entered our biology class, or even the school at all today. I refused to believe I could be the cause of such outright fury from a complete stranger. He may be beautiful but he was at the bottom of my list of decent people at this point. I let out a small huff.
The door opened again behind be, another student rushing in from the cold. Wind suddenly gusted through the office, rustling my hair around my shoulders and sending the flyers on the counter into the air. The girl who came in only stayed for a moment, placing a paper in a wire basket before she ducked back outside. But Mammon stiffened again, turning slowly to glare at me. Even his hate-filled eyes were stupidly handsome, and I didn’t bother to suppress the scowl forming on my lips. That thrill of fear from earlier sang in my blood, but I shoved it down. I wasn't going to let a rude boy intimidate me. Mammon stared for a heartbeat, then whirled back around to the receptionist.
"I guess there's nothing you can do, then, " he said, no trace of fury in his smooth voice. "Thanks anyway." He brushed past me as he strode towards the door, and I shrank back, unwilling to let our bodies touch even for the briefest of moments. I swallowed the lump in my throat, stalked up to the receptionist, and slapped the signed sheet onto the counter.
"How was your first day, honey?" She asked with a small smile.
"It was fine," I lied. She didn't look like she believed me, but I couldn't find it in me to care. She took the slip and let me go. By the time I got back to the student parking lot, it was barren, only my red truck left. I climbed into the cab and slammed the door shut, more forceful than necessary.
So much for a decent first day.