A/N: I'm proud to announce that this is my sixtieth story. Wow.
After my weeks upon weeks of not posting and taking a break after finishing two stories, I decided it's about time I get something good out there.
I hope everyone enjoys this delicious angsty-romance.
I do not own Twilight.
"She moved in with her boyfriend I heard."
"No, I think her parents kicked her out and then her boyfriend dumped her."
"She's pregnant I think. You know how her dad is always giving those teen pregnancy lectures."
"Oh my God… still, her boyfriend's a hottie."
"I know, and a college student."
I shut out the gossiping once and for all with my headphones and turned up the song that was playing until I couldn't hear the shameless giggling anymore. Unfortunately, it was classical, so the pauses in between piano notes let the flow of high soprano voices through. I changed the song quickly and focused on my math homework instead.
Every single day I heard the same damn things muttered over and over again and they were really starting to get to me. What happened to silent study halls on Wednesdays? God, I hate substitutes.
Something went whizzing by my head and my eyes snapped up to Tyler Crowley laughing, his nostrils expanding. I didn't have to hear him to know that he probably just snorted. I looked to my right to see a shredded Romeo and Juliet book on the ground.
"What the hell?" I whispered and pulled out one of my headphones.
I pulled up the book and flipped back the front cover. It was like a yearbook, except the friendly 'see ya next year's' were replaced with words like 'douche bag' and 'whore'. I breathed in a shaky breath and looked at the back of the mangled book to see my name scratched out with 'Isasmella Whore'. Hmm, creative.
I threw the book in my bag and pretended it didn't bother me even though I'd had that book since seventh grade. Certain quotes with sentimental meaning were circled in it by my former friends and by my mother.
I glanced at the clock on my iPod and thanked God there were only seven more minutes of class left. I finished writing out the formulas so I could complete the problems easily later on and lined up all the papers neatly in organized stacks before putting them in my backpack. I watched the clock as the seconds hand glided along the numbers until the minute hand was on three.
"Thank God," I murmured and walked out the room as fast as I could.
Even if my next class was worse than a study hall I was glad to get away. I didn't think I had much fight left in me to defend myself or my current situation.
I stuck to the right side of the hall, my shoulder touching the painted brick wall. I kept my iPod on and ignored some of the people who looked at me or the groups of people standing in the hallway. Stay away from groups of people at all times, I thought and sped my walk a bit.
"Bella Swan," the voice chirped again and this time I couldn't ignore it because it was right next to me.
"Oh, hey, Jessica," I said sheepishly. "I didn't hear you." I took out a headphone but she didn't seem to care.
"What's going on?" she asked with too much enthusiasm. "We haven't spoken in weeks!"
"Yeah, I know." Because all you do is give me funny looks and talk about me behind my back.
"What's going on? What's up?" She grinned at me, oblivious that she was completely blocking the walkway with her overstuffed bright pink backpack.
"I'm on my way class." I moved to the side and began to walk slowly, hinting that she could follow me if she wanted to.
"Oh, right! Ew, I really hate chem."
"So what's up?" she asked again, but this time there was an edge of impatience in her voice.
"Not much," I answered flippantly.
"Oh, come on, Bella." She laughed like I had told a joke. "Seriously, you're a really interesting person. There has to be something going on."
"Jessica, have you seen my Romeo and Juliet book anywhere?" I looked straight ahead at the hall in front of me but Jessica's rambling cut off short. She didn't speak for several moments.
That's what I thought.
I turned into the chemistry room and took my seat in the back. I hated sitting in the back; I couldn't stand looking over peoples' heads to take notes, but I also couldn't stand the looks that bore into my back.
If you give high schoolers the ammunition they'll sure as hell use it.
"Do you think she knows?" I heard Jessica ask Lauren when they took their seats across from me.
"Who cares," Lauren answered, glaring at me.
Indeed. Who cares.
I turned my attention to Mr. Banner, who was writing out pool chemistry formulas on the board. I copied them down and focused on anything but the side conversations in class.
Approximately forty three minutes and twenty two seconds later, the bell rang and I nearly jumped up from my seat. Just one more period to get through and then I would be free for the rest of the day.
I jumped over someone's foot, dodged hallway traffic and made it to the girl's locker room in time to change for gym. I got there before the bell rang and before all the other girls strolled in. Ignore, ignore, ignore…
I made it out of the locker room before I could hear any more and I smiled triumphantly. That was far less worse than I had expected. I made my way up the stairs and to the gym where Coach Clapp was passing out dodge balls to the boys.
"Damnit," I cussed.
"Girls on the bench, boys on the court!" Coach Clapp yelled.
I saw on the bleachers far across from the other girls. I was like a plague to them, and even though they were the ones who were ultimately confrontational, they kept their distance from me. For that I was grateful.
The boys started to throw the balls at each other; some of them would bounce off others and fly towards the bleachers. The girls would all scream, throw their hands out, kick the ball down, repeat.
I watched with mild interest and smiled a bit when Tyler tripped on his shoelace and took down his own teammate with him. They got up and stomped to the side with others, waiting for someone to catch the ball and get them back in.
Mike Newton and Eric Yorkie were the last two standing, flinging balls at each other and trash talking like there was no tomorrow. With their tiny, homoerotic gym shorts and aggression for touching balls it was like a soft core porno.
Mike threw a ball at the floor and it bounced up to hit Eric in the chest. Eric flipped him the bird, got scolded, and then stomped off to where Tyler was.
"Girls on the floor!" Clapp yelled over the groaning females.
I walked down the bleachers after all of them, finding myself as the last girl picked by Jessica Stanley's team—which was just fine, considering the other team captain was Lauren—and stood in the back trying to avoid any form of contact, ball or person.
Some girl with straight black hair whaled the ball at Jessica and she squealed loudly. I smiled a little and looked back at the other side. A ball came rolling down the floor and bounced into my shoe so I walked off to the line of girls who were out.
After watching a boring round of "Don't let it touch my hair!" the game finally ended and the boys were called back down.
I couldn't even watch it this time, and I actually settled for listening to inane gossip about who was hotter than who. Mike beat out Eric, but Quil Atera was hotter than Mike by double, and then they started to fight about who would be better in bed and I zoned out completely.
What should I make for dinner tonight? I wonder if ravioli would be okay. I've been wanting to try out that new recipe for the marinara…
"Alright. Go change, ladies," Coach Clapp gave the confirmation. I jumped out of my seat and down the bleachers to the gym doors.
"Wait!" I turned around at the sound of Clapp's voice, but instead of middle aged wrinkle lines I saw a red rubber ball coming straight at me.
I snapped my eyes closed and felt it hit the side of my face. My foot stepped back and I fell off balance onto my butt. My wrist hit the door on the way down and I groaned. Several people erupted into laughter and Clapp started screaming at Tyler.
I sat up and tried to ignore the shooting pain in my arm and the tears in my eyes, but those were more from embarrassment than anything else. I ran out of the gym and down into the locker room to change, finding a note on my locker that said 'whore' in bright purple letters.
I threw it to the ground and pulled on my jeans and shirt before running out of the locker room to the front of the school.
A silver car was parked in its regular visitor's spot. I saw the driver's head leaning against the headrest and I made my way to the passenger's side. When the door popped open his head snapped to the right.
"You're early," he said.
"Yeah, gym let out early," I mumbled.
"Everything alright?" His tone dropped and he looked at me with sincere worry.
This is the one person who cares…
"Yeah, I'm alright,"
"I fell, the usual." I smiled but he didn't take the bait. His hand touched my wrist and he felt the bone. I winced when he pressed on the bruising skin.
"Really. I'm fine, Edward," I said. And I was—now, anyway.
His green eyes met mine and he sighed while running his hand through his disheveled copper hair before he started the car. I held his hand the entire ride, relaxing in the scent of him and his car—our car I guess, but it really was his.
Everything I owned was his in reality. It had been like this for a while now, ever since I moved in with him five weeks ago. He didn't see it that way, but I did.
And so did everyone else.
A/N: If anyone can give a guess as to what this is about, or has a prediction, I'm always open to questions and will most certainly give answers.
Don't forget to review!