Chapter 5

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove

around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the

cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few

lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District.

It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The

nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon

as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't

have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed

everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge

breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I

finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded

with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief. Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black

"3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing

gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried

holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door

to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two

girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair.

At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate

identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name — not

an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he

sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was

harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they

managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It

was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read

everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if my mom would

send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went

through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and

hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club

type.

"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes."I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-

helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could

have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I

hoped I wasn't getting paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him.

"You don't look very tan."

"My mother is part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a

sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use

sarcasm.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric

walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some

other classes together." He sounded hopeful.

I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.

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