Art- a creation of beautiful things

Art- beautiful objects

Art- creative beauty

"Argh!" I shouted in frustration, throwing my bit of charcoal down. I had been sketching the same face for weeks now. The beautiful mop of bronze hair, the full mouth with a slight frown, the eyes. Oh, the eyes. They were my downfall. I had a whole sketchbook filled with them, all of them imperfect. Those perfect, smoldering topaz eyes. They were so full of emotion and so complex. I hadn't gotten one good sketch in. Maybe if I actually had a name to the face… but I had no idea if this man even existed.

I packed up the last bit of my supplies and set them gently in a box marked fragile. I was flying out to a school for the arts in Oklahoma. A secluded little town, much like Forks, that was perfect for such a school. Surrounded by acres and acres of beautiful, open grasslands, this school could support an artist and help to shape them. I had dreamt of attending since I was a small child.

"Bella? C'mon, we're gonna be late!" Charlie called. My father, Charlie Swan, was the Chief of Police in the small town of Forks. I had moved there my junior year of high school to give my mom and her new husband some time alone. I felt awful leaving him alone when I left. He hardly knew how to cook, let alone do laundry. But when we got the news that I could start during winter break of my senior year, he all but shoved me out.

"Coming Dad!" I shouted over my shoulder as I struggled to tape my final box. I had always been clumsy, so it was no surprise that I tripped on the way out.

The ride to the airport was quiet, the anxiety filling the small car. When it came time for goodbyes, I turned and hugged Charlie tightly. I choked out an I love you before I stumbled over to the plane.

Thankfully, the flight was only a few hours. It gave me time to get good and nervous before I got to my dream school. I would be starting with the rest of its freshman class on their first day too, but instead of being graduated from high school for 6 months, I would have only been out of high school for two weeks. I was a special case, one who needed the school's foundation immediately. Whether this was good or bad, I didn't know.

When I staggered off the plane, the sudden bright light threw me for a moment. Forks was a town that was constantly rained upon. It was sunny maybe 10 days out of the year, so the bight light was un-familiar at first. I squinted for a moment, letting my eyes adjust. That's when it happened.

Someone bumped into me from behind. I turned around instinctively to see who it was, and my jaw threatened to unhinge itself.

It was the man I had been sketching. He was even more glorious outside of my mind. I felt disappointed for a moment, realizing that I would never be able to truly capture such a beauty. I quickly lost track of that thought when I saw his face. The way his chin jutted out indignantly, the sharp contrast between the shadows his cheekbones created and his pale complexion. The way his mouth was set, a slight frown to it. And the eyes. They made me want to cry, that's how breathtaking they were. Two golden orbs caught in a face, two crystal balls that showed the depth of his soul. They seemed to turn from a hard, cold mass of deliberately placed topaz flecks to molten, smoldering pools of gold as they gazed down at me.

"Excuse me. I'm terribly sorry for bumping into you." He said kindly. His voice was just as beautiful, like a chorus of bells harmonizing with each other in perfect time.

"No, it was my fault. I wasn't paying attention." I mumbled, blushing as I realized that he had probably seen my staring.

"Edward Cullen." He introduced himself, sticking out his hand. "And I truly am sorry."

"Bella Swan." I replied, bravely sticking out my hand as well. "Forget about it."

As our hands met, I was shocked. Literally. The electric current that ran through my body at his casual touch was truly unexpected. It thrilled me, his simple touch. Why?

I didn't have any time to think, because just as he released his hand, a small pixie-like girl danced her way over towards us. The way she moved in only walking seemed as beautiful and graceful as any ballet I'd seen. I found myself staring at her too, for she had the same breathtaking features as Edward. I could only assume that they were related.

"Edward, what's-oh!" she stopped speaking when she reached me. She was so tiny and petite, but looked strong at the same time, the pull of her muscles giving the illusion of motion even when she was still. I noticed that she had the same eyes as Edward, but her jaw line was more delicate looking. She was stunning.

"Alice, this is Bella. I ran into her a few seconds ago." Edward explained as he introduced me.

"Hello Bella, I'm Edward's sister, Alice." She introduced herself as she too held out her hand for me to shake.

"Bella Swan." I said meekly as I grasped her hand in return.

"You look…familiar. Do I know you?" she asked uncertainly.

"I don't think so… but I could be wrong." I answered hesitantly. I already liked her and didn't want to upset her.

"Hmm…" she hummed as she appeared to get lost in thought. A moment later, she brightened up and started to vibrate excitedly.

"Bella Swan? I think that I saw one of your pieces when I was touring the school last week. Wait! You're going to the school, aren't you?" she asked excitedly.

"Yeah. I'm going about a year early though. They said that I needed the school's foundation immediately, whatever that means. I just hope that it's good…" I trailed off as I realized they were both gaping openly at me.

"Early?" Edward asked, shock coloring his expression. I longed to grab my sketch book and draw him for hours, but fought with my urge to reach into my suitcase.

"Umm, yeah?" I said, it sounding like a question.

"They haven't let anyone in early in years." Alice said slowly, deep in thought about something.

"Um…I'm sorry?" I said, still unsure of exactly how to react.

"Sorry?" Edward asked incredulously. "Why would you be sorry?"

"Erm, I just figured that you'd be mad that I was getting special treatment or something…" I answered simply. In truth, I still figured that I was so hopelessly lost in my artwork that they figured I needed five years to work in a supportive environment.

"Bella, I don't know what kind of people you've met so far, but we're not mad. In fact, I think that I can speak for both Edward and myself when I say that hope to become good friends with you and see more of your work." Alice assured me enthusiastically.

"So you two are both in the school?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. I was slowly becoming redder and redder as we spoke longer about me.

"Yes. Alice and I are twins, and we both got accepted right out of high school. I play piano and compose, while Alice dances." Edward explained, though he stared at me. I figured that he was trying to decide what was so special about me. I blushed furiously, and was relieved when Alice nudged him.

"Edward! I told you! I don't 'dance', I perform. If we called it dancing, then I would have to be associated with those god-awful pop singers and their two step moves." Alice corrected him, scowling as she spoke. She turned to me, and her eyes took a far-off look. Her face looked so peaceful and serene, and I found myself wishing for my sketchbook, though a camera would do nicely.

"The way I see it," she explained. "Art speaks for you. It expresses your every wish, your every desire. It displays your feelings in a way we never could. Art isn't just a noun; it's an adjective, a verb. It's just so impossibly beautiful and perfect that I wish I could do it all day long. I live for art, and my art lives because of me."

"That's a beautiful way of thinking about it." I murmured, lost in my thought. I could paint a picture just off those words alone, the passion in her voice dictating the very make-up of the painting. I quickly put this moment in the banks of my memory before I lost the beauty.

"Yeah, yeah." She dismissed my praise with a wave of her hands.

"Bella? Did you want to ride with us instead of in that crowded bus?" Edward asked. I wondered why he was asking something so off-topic, but quickly realized that most everyone else had dissipated from the lobby and were drifting towards a large bus that was painted by a former student.

"That'd be great." I thanked him as I made my way over to the luggage cart to grab my suitcases. Edward grabbed one of my bags and set off in the other direction. I noticed a silver Volvo with the trunk popped open. It was full to the near brim of pink suitcases, with the occasional brown one thrown in. I could only assume that Alice had a passion for clothes as well, and giggled when I saw her leap on top of one to force it to fit.

Edward helped me to fit myself in the back around our suitcases, and he and Alice got into the front.

"Edward, you need bigger car." She told him as she flipped the radio on.

"Don't you mean, Edward, you need a bigger trunk so that my excessive amount of clothing will fit?" he teased, mimicking her voice almost perfectly. He would have been perfect, had it not been for the fact that his voice was an octave or two lower than hers.

The ride to the school was just like that, lighthearted teasing all the way down. Edward grumbled when we got stuck behind the bus, and had to keep the speed to 40 mph. We would occasionally ask each other questions about family, or how we got started creating. I soon discovered that Alice and Edward were adopted and started out with art when Edward wouldn't take ballet when he was five.

"My mother, Esme, decided that Alice and I should take dancing classes. She worried about us feeling bored or lonely since we lost our parents when we were 2, but didn't listen when we told us how fine we were. She signed Alice up for ballet when Alice found a tutu in her closet and wouldn't take it off. Esme figured that Alice and I would want to be kept together, and tried to sign me up too. After three days full of temper tantrums, I finally convinced her to let me skip. She did make me take something else, and piano was the only other thing I deemed fine for a boy to do." He told with a smile on his face as he reminisced on his younger years.

By the time we arrived, it was 6 o'clock, and officially, we were late for dinner. It didn't matter today, because we were all late, thanks to the bus. But, if we were late to dinner any other night, we wouldn't get anything. I made a mental note to leave some snacks in my room just in case.

We carted our stuff inside, and were given our dorm numbers and strict instructions to meet in the common hall at 7:15, sharp. Alice and I were delighted to learn we were rooming together for the next four years.

"Who are you rooming with?" Alice asked as she tried to peek over his shoulder. She had to get up on her tip-toes and still only made it to about his elbow.

"Jasper Whitlock. Wonder what he does?" he mused.

We soon parted ways and made our trek up to our third story room. It was the perfect size, built in such a way that there was an alcove on my side for me to set up my easel and tolls, and an identical one on Alice's side so she could warm-up in the morning. I set my stuff down and plopped myself on the bed. 

The house was beautiful. It was formerly a plantation, and looked as if it hadn't changed in years. There were big windows on our alcove that if opened, you could climb out and sit on the roof by the climbing ivy and roses. It felt so beautiful and homey. I never wanted to leave. Unfortunately, it was nearly seven, and I didn't want to be late. I dragged Alice away from her clothes and we hiked over to the newest barn, which was still about 250 years old. It had been renovated to become the common hall, but most everyone called it the dining hall. There were about thirty buildings like these that were spread across the land, and would serve as our classrooms.

We plopped down at a table in the middle of the front next to Edward and a blonde guy. As I looked around, I only saw about 100 students, including the four of us. I had known that they were exclusive, but not this exclusive.

"Hey Edward. Who's this?" Alice asked as she set herself down next to me.

"This is Jasper, my roommate. He's into the cello." Edward introduced the newcomer.

"I'm not into the cello, I'm in love with the way you can make people feel things with it. It shows everyone your emotions and tweak others. It's not just a hunk of wood." Jasper defended his cello enthusiastically. Just the excitement building up in his blue eyes made me want to dash upstairs and grab something to record it. He was just as beautiful as Edward and Alice, though he had a set of scars over his eyebrow that, from a distance, looked like bite marks. The definition on them would be interesting to play around with, and… stop Bella. You've got to stop thinking of drawing for five minutes. TRY and seem normal for a bit. I mentally scolded myself for zoning out and brought my attention back to the table.

"Hi, I'm Edward's sister, Alice, and this is my roommate, Bella." She introduced us kindly. I thought I saw her staring at him a bit longer than she should have, but it could have been my imagination.

"Hey," he said as he smiled at each of us in response. "My sister should be coming to sit with us. Her name's Rosalie, and to save yourself ten minutes of your life, she's an actress. Last time someone asked, she gave a five minute explanation on why the term actress is demeaning to the art form and then spent ten reciting a chunk of Romeo and Juliet. She's kind of nuts."

Just as he finished, a painfully gorgeous blonde girl came over and sat down next to us. She ushered a tall, muscular boy to sit next to her.

"Hey everyone. I heard Jasper's little speech and decided to come over here and assure you that I'm not crazy." The girl said. I assumed that she was Jasper's sister, but was confused when I saw no further resemblance than the blonde hair. Not to say that Rosalie was any less beautiful than the rest of the group, because if anything, she was more amazing. Her body seemed to have a purpose at all times, leading your eyes one way as she spoke, making you feel something else as she stopped. I had to remind myself to be normal and not sketch. I trained myself to look at her dark blue eyes passively, but almost audibly gasped when I closely looked at them. They were so deep and mysterious. Not murky, but an ever-changing swirl of browns, blues, and greens. I had to clench my hands together to stop my fingers from twitching. I saw Edward chuckle at this out of the corner of my eye, and I glared at him.

The boy sitting next to her had enough beauty to fit in with the gang. It made me sad to realize that I was too plain to ever fit in with my new friends. I quickly forgot as I scanned over the boys figure, ending on his brown eyes. His body had an interesting build, somehow managing to look burly and lean at the same time. I wanted to groan; these people were practically giving me seizures. I was such a dork; I couldn't even stop drawing long enough to have a normal conversation.

"Hi, I'm Rosalie Hale. Jasper's dad married my mom when we were twelve. This is Emmett McCarty, my boyfriend. He works with wood and clay to sculpt, though he helps to build for the set design too." She said, gesturing towards Emmett with one of her manicured hands.

We would have talked further, but the sound of a microphone turning on brought our attention to the front of the room. A mysterious looking man stood at the center of the room, scanning the room to see who he needed to shush. When his eyes passed over us, I noticed what an interesting green they were. They were deep and twinkling, and so muddy that from a distance they appeared brown.

"Welcome everyone, to the Academy of Recognition of Talent. Or, as most everyone calls it, A.R.T." he announced with a grin.

"My name is Dean Taylor, and you can call me Dean. Or Taylor. Or Sir. Or Hey You with the Face. I don't really care what you call me, as long as we keep it in mind that I am here to help guide you in becoming the DaVinci's of today. I would really love not having to punish or scold you, because I'm way too young 

to feel like my father. Now as long as you respect the building and our beliefs, we should be fine. The only thing that isn't flexible about this school is the eating times. Nine sharp for breakfast, twelve-fifteen for lunch, and six sharp for dinner. Everything else can be worked out to help you create the best." He explained, laughing along with the rest of us at his humor.

"The only other thing I had to say tonight before everyone got settled in was this. Each and every one of you was chosen to come here. That in no way means that you are the only best in this school. We chose you because we felt that you had a huge amount of talent and because we thought that you could go farther if you learned under us. The definition of art is a creation of beautiful things. Keep that in mind, and you will get a good use out of this education." He finished, sarcastically taking a big bow as all of the returning members called out 'get a new speech, DT!' or 'geez, getting old, aren't you?'. The rest of us simply clapped, still soaking in his words.

"Oh, and Isabella Swan? I'd like to talk to you for a minute." Dean Taylor requested as he searched for my face in the crowd.

This was the best stopping point I found for this story. I have to admit that I'm not even sure if this is worth reading. I came up with the idea in the middle of a craft store and it wouldn't get out of my mind, so I had to type it. I'm trying to make it sound artsy and beautiful, but let me know if you have any suggestions to keep it on that path. It seems that if I were to continue this story, the posts would be big chunks, like this 9 page word document with around 3400 words. Seriously though, let me know if I should continue. Oh, and I do accept anonymous reviews, so there is no reason not to voice you opinion. A bien tot!