Disclaimer: I own nothing. At all. Never have. Never will.
Summary: He's a boy on the wrong side of the tracks. She's a girl dying to be free. She wants a change. He's ready and willing to show her the life she could have. It's time for a change.
1. It's Time For a Change
In life, there are things we want. There are things we need. And then there are things we get.
I want to dress in black just one time. Just once! I want to stay up past 10pm on the weekends. I want to pick my own friends.
I need to let my hair down before it is stuck in an up-do for the rest of my life. I need to experience life as a teenager. To go out past curfew and be brought home at the crack of dawn by the police. To party and learn how much liquor a five and half foot girl can consume so I don't over do it when I turn twenty-one. To find puppy love so I can recognize the difference if and when I find "the one."
I want and I need, but this is what I get…
"I'll be down in a moment, Aunt Sue." Like I told you just a few seconds ago. I fluffed at the tight bun atop my head for the tenth time, grimacing at its stiffness. It pulled the strands of my hair in so tightly, I knew I'd have yet another headache by the end of the day. But that didn't matter. What Aunt Sue wants, she gets.
What I want, I have to live without. Because what I want isn't proper.
Leaving your hair down isn't proper behavior for a proper young lady. Whatever the heck that means. Lots of girls leave their hair down and no one looks down on them for it.
Mom always left her hair down…
I sighed, looking away from the mirror, I grabbed my pre-approved light powder pink headband. I put it on carefully, so as not to let a strand of hair fall out of place. Aunt Sue wouldn't be too keen on that. I adjusted my matching pink cardigan and tan dress pants - not too high on the belly and not too low on the hips. I skipped down the stairs, pasting on my happy-go-lucky grin. If I looked the slightest bit troubled, Aunt Sue would ask me why. And I am a dreadful liar.
"Early bird gets the worm, Isabella," Aunt Sue said, turning to me with that darn wooden spoon that put my once free spirit in place. I grimaced at it, but covered up quickly.
"Sorry, Auntie Sue. I wanted to look perfect for my first day at a new school." I smiled at her and sat down at the table where she placed a small bowl of that puke in front of me.
Bland oatmeal again.
There was a time in my life when I looked forward to breakfast. Not because it was anything special - or even edible - but because it had a lot of love and thought put into it. And I always received it with a loving hug and kiss on my forehead. But I couldn't think about that right now. Because thinking about that makes me sad. And when I'm sad, I frown. And frowning causes wrinkles, apparently.
"Well, yes. Being perfect takes time." She fluffed her curly bun and smiled at her reflection in the window above my head. It took all I had not to roll my eyes at her. "But if you were more organized, you'd be ready on time. Now eat." She pointed to the mush in front of me with her wooden spoon and I dug in. Like I always do on a Monday morning.
And every day after that.
For the rest of my life.
I fiddled with my bun, wishing so much that I could just tear it out of my hair. This was it. My first day at Forks High School. Home of the Spartans.
A hand slapped at mine and I winced. "Isabella!" Aunt Sue reprimanded, knocking my shaking hands back onto my lap. "Ladies do not fidget. Enough!"
I looked down at my hands and sighed. "Sorry, Auntie Sue," I apologized in my usual monotone.
I'm sorry you're such a…a…priss!
"Just don't embarrass yourself today," she sighed, fixing a few stray hairs by her ears in the rearview mirror. "Everything you do is a reflection of me. Do not be late to class. Do not get more than a salad at lunch. We don't need you getting chunky. And whatever you do," She cast her cold glare on me, making me look into her eyes with her hand under my chin. "Stay away from anyone in black. I don't care if they seem the nicest, only an insecure, troublemaking bad seed would dare wear that horrible non-color. Ugh!" She shook her head in disgust.
Letting go of my chin, she turned back to stare out of the windshield, waiting for me to get out.
Once inside - and away from the crazy lady - I pulled my schedule out of my backpack. Written in bold black marker was my locker number and combo. I wandered down the hall of lockers, but couldn't find mine anywhere.
"Is there another hall of lockers?" I wondered aloud, squinting my eyes a bit to see better. I don't exactly have 20-20 vision, but Aunt Sue says glasses are for older people and just look awful on a lady of my age. And contacts are too costly.
"These are the senior lockers," came a feminine - if not slightly raspy - voice behind me. I whirled around and was met with piercing dark blues on the face of an angel. "Are you a senior?" She tilted her head to the side, her straight blonde hair falling over her eyes. I almost wanted to reach out and move it behind her ear to save her from the embarrassment of looking 'improper' but thankfully stopped myself, smooshing my backpack against my chest. I had to remember that not everyone was in the care of a crazy woman.
"Yes. I'm a senior." I gave myself a mental pat on the back for not stuttering and blushing.
It isn't attractive and makes me come off as insecure and moronic. Thanks Auntie Sue.
The blonde girl grabbed my schedule from me and glanced at it, a smile curving her plump lips into a beautiful yet intimidating smirk. She pointed to the locker right behind me, chuckling under her breath. "That's your locker." I turned around and read 120.
I thought I was looking for locker number 138. I grimaced at my stupidity and turned back to the blonde. She was leaning against the locker next to me with her arms crossed over her chest and a sarcastic smile on her face.
Great. I've already disobeyed my aunt and embarrassed myself. This reflects poorly on her. I imagined that God-awful wooden spoon and winced, reaching out to take my schedule back. "Thank you," I muttered, feeling the color fill my cheeks, and then leave in a matter of seconds.
"No problem, Isabella."
"How did you know-?"
"It's on your schedule," she chuckled. This time I blushed and it stayed. I looked down and smiled meekly at the dirty floor.
"Yeah. Anyway-" She perked up, pushing away from the locker and looking over my shoulder. "the gang is here. I need to go. But if you want someone to sit with at lunch, you can sit with us. I have a thing for dimples," she smiled, poking at the one dimple on my cheek. I blushed darker and she bounced off - literally bounced. I turned and watched her go. The natural sway to her full hips, her pretty blonde hair down to the middle of her back was waving as she walked with too much enthusiasm. Then I noticed what she was wearing - or what she wasn't, more like it.
A tight black tee that left some of her back exposed, tight low-ride skinny jeans and black ankle boots with a dangerously high heel.
Aunt Sue would have an aneurism. Heck! I'm about to have one.
Blondie jumped into the arms of a tall, muscular boy-man, wrapping her long legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, laying a big, fat, openmouthed kiss on his lips.
Just … Whoa.
I turned away from their public display of affection and focused on getting the right combo into my locker, all the while feeling like I was being watched, scrutinized. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I messed up my combo for the fifth time. Sweat started to form on my brow and I quickly wiped it away. Aunt Sue says I am not allowed to perspire.
I've already broken almost every rule she's given me today, I don't want to make a habit of it. She'd know. She knows everything.
Finally, after countless failed tries, I got the darn combination correct and pulled my locker open. It was then that I realized I already had everything and there was nothing I needed to put away. I groaned and shoved my head into my locker, breathing in the stale scent that emanated from within it.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Several minutes of my time that could have been used to find my first period class, wasted! Because I am a nervous idiot. I started to slam my locker when Aunt Sue's voice invaded my mind.
"Ladies do not slam doors, Isabella. And if they do, they have to answer to the spoon."
I closed the locker softly, sighing. I turned and walked, face first, into a broad chest. I squeaked and jumped back, hitting the lockers behind me.
"Shit, you okay?" The owner of aforementioned broad chest grabbed my upper arms, steadying me. I looked up and gasped. Yes, I gasped. Complete with hand over mouth and widening eyes. I couldn't help it.
Red hair with streaks of a brilliant brown color, forest green eyes, strong jaw… hummm.
"Yes you are," I breathed, looking him up and down. Now this. This is man pretty.
I bit my lip to keep the moan wanting to escape at bay. I looked back up into his pretty eyes. He had his bushy brow quirked and an amused smirk on his face. "Excuse me?" he asked.
"Umm, what?" I blinked a few times, attempting to come out of my lust induced haze. Looking at this guy was NOT helping. "I mean, uh, hi!" I waved and he laughed. I quickly pulled my stupid hand down, and bit my nail.
Nice going! Oh, God. Could I be any more awkward?
"Hi," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Isabella, right?" Okay. I know for a fact he hasn't seen my schedule.
"Yeah. How did you know that?"
"Rose told me." He jammed his thumb over at blondie who was wrapped around Mr. Roid like a koala. So her name is Rose. Why hadn't I asked her that earlier? She probably thinks I am totally rude now. "She said to check out the pink chick with the dimple," he smiled down at me from his towering height, making my tummy flutter. "I am glad I did." He winked at me, reaching out he tucked a stray hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my pale pink pearl earring. "Very nice," he whispered, pulling away. I shivered at both his touch and his words.
Boys never give me attention.
Boys shouldn't give me attention.
Boys know how Aunt Sue is. Then again, this is a new town. New people. These new people in this new town know nothing of crazy Aunt Sue. They know nothing of my strict oatmeal life.
They don't know me.
I can be different here. When Sue isn't watching, of course.
Why is this just occurring to me now?
"Isabella?" I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at - what did he say his name was? Edward? I looked into his eyes and decided, yes. This is definitely an Edward.
"Sorry," I giggled. I don't giggle. Why am I giggling? Aunt Sue says only dimwitted girls giggle. I'm not dimwitted. I pass school with all A's. I'm no dimwit. Why am I giggling? "What were you saying?" The smile on my face could break my lips. Edward makes me smile. How? No one makes me smile anymore.
"I was saying you're very…" He took a step closer to me, crinkling his pretty eyes, making me draw blood from my lip, but I didn't care. I'm smiling. I like smiling. Keep talking, pretty guy. Please keep talking. "different. I like it," he breathed. I sighed. He likes me. I'm different.
Wait. Is that good? Is being different good? How am I different? Different, bad?
"I don't usually do this, but if you want, I can walk you to class. Hell," he laughed. "I'll even carry your books if you just talk to me and let me talk back." He smiled. I smiled. Really smiled. This was no fake smile.
"Uh, okay." I blushed, looked down to the floor with a weird feeling. I couldn't quite pinpoint it. What was this feeling? I've never felt it before.
I looked back up at Edward and he smiled, taking my pink and tan backpack from my shoulder. I trembled as his knuckles brushed the exposed skin of my neck. I blushed…again! I had never blushed so much in one day, let alone in just a few minutes time.
"Come on." Edward grabbed my hand in his and started moving us down the hallway. "What's your first class?" he asked, peering down at me.
I knew what my first class was. I memorized my schedule so I wouldn't have to look like a newcomer every time I pulled it out. I rehearsed it. I knew this. Why couldn't I remember my schedule?
"Uh, it's…" What is it?
Trig? No. That's not it.
Bio? Nuh-uh. I remember that being further down on the list.
"Gimmie." Edward snatched my schedule out of my clenched fist. "English Lit. My friend has that class. Hey, Ally!" A small girl in baggy sweatpants, Nikes and a purple tee two sizes too big for her slugged her way over to us.
"What?" she asked in a bored tone. Her eyes drifted to mine and Edwards joined hands, her eyebrows lifting to her messy hairline.
I wanted to offer her a brush.
And a mirror.
"This is Isabella." He held our joined hands out to her, her eyebrows getting considerably higher. "You guys have first period together. Be cool, eh? Let her sit with you." She nodded dumbly, started walking beside Edward, glancing at him, then me, and then to our hands, looking like she was trying to figure out some mind numbing equation.
As I looked around, I noticed almost every person had the same look about them.
Was this weird? Me and Edward holding hands? Me walking with Edward?
Am I making a fool of myself?
Am I doing something wrong here?
I just wanted to shout, "I'm new! I don't know what to do!" at the top of my lungs. The way people were looking at me made me think I was doing something wrong.
A group of girls wearing tragically hemmed clothes stared, openmouthed at us as we passed them. A beautiful blonde with pretty ringlets closed her mouth when we made eye contact. She sneered at me. Then she did something that made my tummy swirl in disgust.
She lifted her right hand and … and … oh, goodness.
That's a crude gesture.
Ladies don't make crude gestures.
They don't do that!
What kind of place is this?
At my old private school, no one behaved like that. They were all 'proper' too.
"Real nice, Tanya." I whipped my head around at the voice. Rose - I think? - was walking behind me with the Incredible Hulk at her side. They both smiled at me for a brief second before letting cold stares take over as they looked around with indifference.
I decided to keep my head down for the rest of the walk to my class.
It didn't take very long. I should have kept my head up and watched to see what turns were made so I could make it here on my own tomorrow.
If Aunt Sue knew how much I looked down today, she'd blow a gasket. Confident women do not look down. They keep their heads up, their chins parallel to their feet.
"I'll see you after class?" Edward said, his rough voice lilting, making his demand more of a question. I nodded my head eagerly. I wanted to see him.
Even though I shouldn't.
Boys are not a priority.
Especially ones who look at me like that. As if I'm … uh … I can't think of it. But he looks hungry.
Edward let go of my hand and set my backpack on my shoulder. "I love your face," he said so suddenly before stalking off in the other direction.
Umm, okay? He loves my face. My face? It's appealing to him. I like that. More than I should.
I watched him walk away, fixated by the way his tight jeans hugged his … oh, goodness! I'm being terribly perverted. Aunt Sue would smack me so hard my eyeballs would switch sockets.
But I couldn't look away.
And Aunt Sue isn't here.
And no one knows us in this town.
There is no one to tell her that I have a wandering eye.
My revelations from earlier came to mind as I followed the messy girl into class.
But is it possible?
Can I change this late in the game?
Can I do it without getting caught?
How can I do it?
Edward likes me. I smiled at the thought of that.
Do I like Edward? I remembered that feeling I couldn't place earlier and realized that, yes! I like Edward. I think he's cute. And he's been so nice to me. And he likes my face. Is that so wrong?
I have a crush.
On a guy.
A guy who wears black.
But I wear pink.
Pink and tan.
And I'm on a leash.
A short leash.
Could I rebel? Could I rebel and not get caught? Is it worth the risk to try? I'll be eighteen in just a few weeks. I only have so much time left as an adolescent. Only so much time left to rebel like a normal teenager.
I can do it.
I bit my lip and reached up to my ultra tight bun. I fingered the hair thing for a few seconds.
What harm could it do?
Just take it off and put it back on before going home. Easy peasy. Heck. I'll even add a little lemon squeezey!
I took in a deep breath and did something I only ever get to do when I hop in the shower at exactly 7pm every night. I yanked that darn pink hair thing from my hair and held in a sigh as my brown curls fell around my shoulders, wafting sweet strawberries around me.
Oh, that feels good.
"You look good with your hair down," Messy Girl whispered next to me. I smiled my thanks at her, running my fingers through the soft locks of my hair.
I'm gonna let my hair down - figuratively and for real. It's time for a change. I want to fit in with people who wear black. People who kiss like crazy in a public place. People who hold hands with total strangers like it's nothing.
People like Edward.
And Messy Girl.
And Big Guy.
I'm so, so tired of pink and tan. I just wanna live a little. Be alive for the first time since she left me. Make her proud that I am not a mindless zombie.
I just hope I don't get my butt kicked for it.
*Read*This* This was just an idea that popped into my head while I was watching Cry Baby. If you have never seen it, I suggest you hop to it. The full movie is on YouTube.
Anyway, I don't know if this will be continued. Like I said, it's only an idea. I have gotten a lot lately and am writing the outlines and first chapters for them, just seeing where it goes.
If you like it, tell me. I'll continue. I have the whole thing planned out.