A/N and Disclaimer: I hadn't really planned to continue this, but I've been hit with the strong, sudden desire to make fun of Twilight, as of late. I assume this is covered over the parody clause of free use, but if it's not, I also assume that Stephanie Meyer isn't quite crazy enough to sue a teenage fanfiction writer.

His dazzling face was friendly, his mouth hanging open with a thin thread of drool dripping from the corner, but his eyes were careful, staring disapprovingly at his mouth. "My name is Edward Cullen" he continued, after a short pause to flip his hair and allow me to admire him "You must be Bella Swan, whose name, for those of you too dense to realize, means beautiful swan." I wondered for a moment to whom he was addressing the last part, but the thought quickly overwhelmed my tiny mind.

My head was spinning. Had I been irrational when I assumed that a perfect stranger was consumed with hatred for me and spent the entirety of several days obsessing about it? I had to say something, but due to my limited experience with humans, I didn't know what to say.

"H-how do you know my name?" I stammered. My parents always told me never to talk to a stranger, even if he knew my name, so I wanted to be sure.

He chuckled a soft, enchantingly patronizing laugh.

"Oh, I think everyone knows your name. This entire town has had nothing better to do than wait eagerly of the arrival of some nobody from Arizona."

I grimaced, showing all my teeth in a display of aggression.

"No," I persisted stupidly. Even I knew it was stupid, but I was powerless to resist. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"

He seemed confused or at least displayed as passable of a facsimile as he could form with his granite features. To be honest, he looked more like someone suffering from severe intestinal difficulties, or perhaps like he had just stubbed his toe. "Do you prefer Isabella?"

"No, I like Bella," I said. "But I think that usele- I mean Charl- I mean my dad calls me Isabella behind my back. That's what everyone seems to know me as," I managed to drag myself through that sentence, feeling like an utter moron.

"Oh." He mercifully let it drop. I looked away awkwardly, doing my best to look dignified, or as dignified as one can look when they are so incompetent that walking across the room in heels is a death defying stunt.

Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. It was something about either mitosis, or creating new life with the use of cadavers, electricity, and prayers to the dark lord. I wasn't really paying attention.

"Get started," Banner commanded, his voice suddenly unnaturally deep and booming. He seemed to either have some sort of encounter with the previously mentioned dark lord, or he had been having fun with Sulfur Hexafluoride in the prep room.

"Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked. I looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile. I was struck by a surge of pity. It must be so hard to live with a facial deformity.

"Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; he was obviously wondering if I was mentally competent, thus functioning as the audience proxy in this book.

"No," I said flushing [my dreams of ever getting with this hot guy down the toilet]. "I'll go ahead."

I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab and I knew what I was looking for. It was just really important to make sure the electricity reaches the heart, not the brain.

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I began to flay the liver. His hand caught as he asked. His fingers were nearly as cold as that of the cadaver, like he's been holding them in a snowdrift before class. That wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us. Maybe this was that whole "sexual attraction" thing I'd heard so much about? Nah.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, feeling guilty about touching a lady outside of the confines of marriage.

We began to fall into something of a competition- who could sew the intestines together the best, who could place the kidneys the fastest- that sort of thing. He appeared to be winning. Holy frijoles, was this Cullen character good at doing science!

We were finished before anyone else was close. Look, I know it sounds bad, but you can't expect a guy to last that long his first time. I could see Mike and his partner "comparing slides" again and again.

This left me with nothing to do but try to not look at Edward… wait for it… unsuccessfully. I examined his face closely, paying careful attention to his impeccable bone structure, the charming length of his nose hairs and his eyeballs (they were such perfect spheres). Suddenly, I noticed something different.

"Did you get contacts!" I burst out, interrobang and all, loud enough to disturb students on the other side of the room.

"No," he said, puzzled. After all, who's the mind reader in this situation if not me?

"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

He shrugged, and looked away moodily. I believe if he had long hair, he would have tossed it over one should dramatically.

I was quite sure that his golden eyes were lighter now than they were the last time I saw him. Or perhaps Forks was just making me even crazier, literally.

I looked down. His hands were clenched into tight fists, just about ready to give someone a well-deserved beating, Mark Trail style.

Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. He looked over our shoulder to glance at the completed lab, and then stared even more intently. It almost looked like he was looking down my shirt, hahaha. Weird.

"So, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?" Mr. Banner asked, aware that a gentleman never directly addresses a lady in polite company. Anyway, a man can speak for them.

"Bella," Edward corrected automatically. "Actually, she identified three of the five."

Mr. Banner looked at me, skeptical that someone who doesn't seem to be able to talk to people or even walk correctly could display such a level of competence. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"


"Well," he said after a moment, stroking his mustache with a glint in his eye. "I guess it's god you two are lab partners." He mumbled something as he walked away that sounding suspiciously like "Women these days don't know their places."

After a moment of ringing silence, Edward opened his mouth to talk, to my eager anticipation. "So, it's too bad about the snow."

"Not really," I said flatly.

"You don't like the snow?" He said, though it wasn't really a question. More like a command, quietly forcing me not to like the snow.

"Or the wet."

I seem to have found a kindred spirit in Edward- he hated all that was right and good in the world too. We proceeded to have a deep riveting conversation about our pasts, baseballs, the stupid plebeians we were forced to live with, sweater vests, how much smarter were than everyone else and the unceasing misery of the world. This is the first conversation I'd ever had with a human where I didn't have to sneer at the person at least once. Well, kind of.

When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed swiftly and gracefully from the room, only pausing to hike up his pants and adjust his sweater vest once. Then Mike skipped quickly to my side, waving his arms flamboyantly every time he bounded off the ground. I pictured him with a wagging tail, the product of years of repressed furry fantasies.

"That was awful," he groaned, either out of frustration, or just from being so close to my hotness. "You're lucky you had Cullen as a partner."

"I didn't have any trouble with it," I said, drawing on the full power of my huffiness.

He blithely ignored that. "Cullen seemed friendly enough today," he commented. I tried to pull my raincoat over my head before realizing I had to unbutton it. Who designs these things anyway?

"Oh, I hope he'll be more than friendly," I said, nodding my head slowly as I formed finger guns.


"Oh nothing."