Chapter Text
PART 1
EMERALD
Forks, one way
My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. Although it was January, it was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix and the sky was a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite blue tank top and sunglasses as a farewell gesture. I wouldn’t be needing them anymore.
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near constant cover of clouds. It rains on this charming little town more than any other place in the US. It was from this town and its rainy gloom that my mom escaped with me when I was only a few months old. I’d been spending a month here every summer until I was fourteen. The last three summers, my dad Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.
I didn't exactly dislike Forks, I just didn't love it. Yet I was about to spend the rest of my high school education, a year and a half, there.
I definitely loved Phoenix, though. I loved the sun, the desert and the big, sprawling city.
“Beau,” my mom said to me, the last of a thousand times. “You don’t have to do this.”
My mom and I look exactly alike, except she has long hair and laugh lines. No one would doubt we’re mother and son. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes that were so like mine. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Was it the right thing to do? Of course she had Phil now, so I wasn't really leaving her alone.
“Don't worry for me mom, will you be okay?”
“Of course I will,” she replied, a shade of guilt crept in her eyes.
I sighed. “Mom, we've been through this. You really deserve to rebuild yourself a life and I'm not five years old anymore.”
“I’ll see you soon,” she insisted. “You can come home whenever you want - I’ll come right back as soon as you need me.”
“Everything's gonna be okay. I love you, Mom.”
I hugged her tightly for a minute, then I walked through the gate, and she was gone.
It’s a four hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a smaller plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying bothers me a little, the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I wasn't worried about at all.
My dad seemed genuinely pleased, surprised even, that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He’d already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car.
When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't allow that to sadden me. I just wondered how long it would take for the rain to wash away my tan. I was so used to it I didn't even remember the original color of my skin.
Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser, he is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of funds, was that I'd rather not to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on the top.
I got off the plane into Charlie’s awkward, one-armed hug.
“It’s so good to see you, Beau,” he said, smiling. “You haven’t changed much. How’s Renee?”
“It’s good to see you too, Dad. Mom's okay, she says hi.” I wasn’t supposed to call him Charlie to his face.
I only had a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it still wasn’t much. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.
“I have a surprise for you,” he announced when we were strapped into the cruiser and on our way.
“What surprise?” I asked, suspicious.
“No way, Beau. You'll see.” He chuckled.
I smiled, narrowing my eyes, but decided to drop it. I was too tired after the flights, so I just stared out the windows and yawned. My dad probably wasn't going to say more than that. He wasn't as outgoing as I was, I inherited that from my mom.
Outside it was beautiful, of course; I couldn’t deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. It was so green, like an alien planet. I thought that sooner or later I would learn to like it here, or at least I would get used to it.
Eventually, we made it to Charlie’s. He still lived in the same small, two-bedroom house. I secretly liked it. And then I saw what I instantly supposed must be my surprise.
Parked on the street in front of the house, was my new - well, new to me - truck. It was a faded blue color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. My eyes went wide and I loved it.
I wasn’t really a car guy, so I was kind of surprised by my own reaction. I mean, I didn’t even know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron monsters that never gets damaged - the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.
“Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!” I was genuinely enthused about the truck. Not only was it perfect, now I wouldn’t be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser.
“I’m glad you like it,” Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed. He had never been comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. My bear dad.
“How much do I owe you, dad?” I asked, frowning.
“Well, son, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift.” He mumbled, but I noticed a spark of satisfaction.
Double wow. Free! I hugged him tightly.
It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. It was still mostly blue: the curtains, the bed cover, the pillows. Blue was my favorite color. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a second-hand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner.
“And...” Charlie started. “That's not all.” He closed the door. On a hook behind it a brand new gray knee-length winter coat, lined with artificial fur, was hanging by the hood. “They didn't have it in blue...” Charlie muttered.
I didn't care. My mouth fell open again.
“I thought you would be needing something warm to wear, come on, try it”. He said.
The coat was simply perfect. I wasn't used to wearing something that warm and heavy since in Phoenix I basically went around in shorts, tanks and flip flops the whole year. But this... this coat felt instantly absolutely awesome on me when I looked at myself in the mirror.
“Dad, I don't know what to say... Thank you so much! It's perfect.”
“Never mind Beau, you're very welcome!” Charlie rubbed his neck hair, visibly embarrassed again. “Well, son, I leave you to unpack and make yourself at home.” Then he left.
There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie, but I’d had to share with my mom before, she had a lot more stuff and she was a real bathroom-tsunami-kind-of-girl. Charlie had barely the basics. This would be fine.
After I settled my things I sat down on my bed, staring at the sheeting rain and sighed. Everything had just changed so quickly that I really didn't have time to come to terms with it, but eventually I decided that I would. And without crying.
Forks High School had just three hundred and fifty-seven students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids there had grown up together - their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new kid from the big city, something to stare at and whisper about.
Even though I wasn't exactly one of the cool kids, I had quite some confidence in myself and I could work this out to my advantage. I certainly wasn’t that guy. I've always been a bit different from the other boys in my school. I wasn’t the football star, nor the class president, nor the bad boy on the motorcycle, nor the school stoner. Yet, I wasn't the kid who got shoved into lockers until his sophomore year, the loser. I thought I could be quite the average cool guy, if only I tried to be.
I took a moment to sum up my pros and cons.
Given the constant sunshine of Phoenix, I was really tanned. That would last enough for me to achieve cool status. I was tall, blue-eyed and blond. Yep, these were my strength points. I had always been on the leaner side, obviously not an athlete, still I wasn't a walking pile of bones, I had something that could even be called muscles of a sort. I even had enough hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself. I just needed to focus.
“Okay - I told myself, smirking - you got this dude. You just need to work on your PR and you'll be good. They'll love ya!” I laughed softly at my own prep talk and had a shower after the travel.
I looked at my face in the bathroom mirror as I ran my hands through my damp hair. I could even be considered handsome. I thought about my ways in relating to people. I enjoyed company, sure, and it seemed I was good company too, still I didn't have that many friends at home. Maybe because I was always too busy handling myself, Renee and our house to really develop my social skills, so I would probably manage them better here.
I slept well that night, all things considered, probably because I was so tired. The constant tapping of the rain eventually faded in the background, to my very astonishment. I was afraid it wouldn't let me calm about the big day and fall asleep at all. It did, though. Well, I didn’t have SAD after all, until... I saw the thick fog out of my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. I panicked a little at the thought I could never see the sky here, that I was like in a cage, but rapidly dismissed the idea. The sky was always there, it was just gray, not blue anymore.
Breakfast with Charlie was quiet, mostly because I was experiencing some stage fright. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, hoping his wish would be fulfilled. I realized I never actually thought if I was lucky. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatched chairs and examined the small kitchen, with its dark panelled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. Just like my room which still was mostly blue. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. I sighed, I was already missing her. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining modestly sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year’s. Those were embarrassing to look at - the bad haircuts, the acne that had finally cleared up. Sure as hell I was getting Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here.
It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. I'd have to cheer him up somehow.
I didn’t want to be too early to school, but at the same time I wanted to get over my first day asap, so I donned my coat, grabbed an umbrella and went out to the truck. The engine started quickly, to my relief, roaring to life like a beast, but then lowered the volume to barely a lion growl. The antique radio worked, a bonus that I hadn’t expected.
Finding the school wasn’t difficult; like most other things, it was just off the highway. It wasn’t totally obvious that it was a school; only the signs clued me in. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn’t see its size at first. Wait, I wondered sarcastically, where were the chain-link fences and the metal detectors?
I parked in front of the first building. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot.
Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer. The office was small. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn’t enough greenery outside. Jeez, what's wrong with these folks? The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored fliers taped to its front.
A red haired woman looked up. “Hello. Can I help you?”
“I’m Beau Swan,” I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light up her eyes. I was expected, already the subject of gossip. Son of the Chief’s flighty ex-wife, come home at last. And so it begins.
“Of course,” she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of papers on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. “I have your schedule right here, Beaufort, and a map of the school.” She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.
I resisted a sigh. “Just Beau, please.”
“Oh, sure, Beau.”
She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back and 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 Vulv... uhm, Volvo? And it stood out.
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, like a tourist. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I pulled my hood down over my face as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with other students.
Building Three was easy to spot. A large black 3 was painted on a white square on the east corner. What was the map for, again?
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, both as white as a sheet. Yep, my skin would definitely be a standout here.
I took the slip up to the teacher, Mr. Mason. 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: Brontë, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I’d already read everything. That was comforting and boring. Glad I brought the folder of my old essays with me, I was definitely going to cheat.
When the bell rang, a pale, skinny boy, his hair black as an oil slick, leaned across the aisle to talk to me.
“You’re Beaufort Swan, aren’t you?” He gave off the vibe of the overly helpful, chess club type.
“Beau,” 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. “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 managed a smile.
We headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I was the only one with an umbrella and I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. Sneaky, pale faces.
“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.”
“Yet you look like a Londoner,” he wondered.
“It's the first time in my life I see real rain...” I babbled.
He was looking at me apprehensively. Then he smiled timidly.
“Oh... I get it...” I laughed. “The umbrella.” It looked like clouds and a sense of humor could mix after all. Lucky me.
We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric followed 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 and went inside.
The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have disliked anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself.
“Beau Swan, Phoenix, Arizona, sheriff's son, back to the roots I suppose.” I told my brief presentation, trying to keep cool and hide my aggravation. Did they find it funny? Someone chuckled. Mr. Varner surely did.
After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each room. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. Really? Dude I've been here what? Like 5 minutes? I tried to be diplomatic and sprinkled my most flashing grins. At least I never needed the map.
In every class, the teacher started out calling me Beaufort, and though I corrected them immediately, it was frustrating. It had taken me years to like Beaufort - my mom thought it sounded elegant. I comforted myself with the knowledge that she chose Beaufort over Beauregard, her second choice. That would be awful medieval, so Knights of the round-table. No one at home even remembered that Beau was just a nickname anymore. Now I had to start all over again.
One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was short, several inches shorter than my six, with long, straight, light-brown hair. Her bubbling, energetic personality almost seemed to make up the difference between our heights. I couldn’t remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she rattled about teachers and classes. PR was so easy.
We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me - couldn’t complain about the manners here. Overwhelmed by the rush of new information, I forgot all their names as soon as she said them. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room.
It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, making conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw the most weird people ever.
They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren’t talking and they weren’t eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention. They didn’t look anything alike.
There were three boys; one was big - muscled like a serious weight lifter, at least six-five or taller, with dark, curly hair. The second one was almost as tall as the first, leaner, but still muscular, with honey colored hair. There was something intense about him, edgy. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college.
The girl sitting next to the giant guy, was only slightly shorter, beautiful athletic figure, clearly the school’s prom queen. Her long golden hair was wound into a bun on the back of her head. The second one was quite the opposite. She was short and pixie-like, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and styled like she combed it with firecrackers.
Totally different, and yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the people living in this sunless town. They all had very dark eyes - from here they looked black - despite the range in hair tones. There were deep shadows under their eyes, purple shadows, like bruises. Maybe they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from broken noses. Except that their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. Or maybe they were all drug addict celebrities, who knows?
Their faces, so different, so similar, were all inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful, maybe the blonde prom queen, or the bronze-haired boy. I mean, all of them were gorgeous, but the boy was something more than just beautiful. He was absolutely perfect. It was an upsetting, disturbing kind of perfection. It made my stomach uneasy.
Damn it! Am I...?
They were all looking away; away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell.
The pixie girl rose with her tray and walked away with a quick, graceful lope. She dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.
“Who are they?” I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I still couldn’t remember.
As she looked up to see who I meant, though she could probably guess from my tone, suddenly he looked at her, the thinner, boyish one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.
“That’s Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife.” She said this under her breath.
Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here, small-town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a totally normal name. There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home.
“They’re all together though. Except for Edward. And they live together.” Jessica continued. Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town.
“Wow, so scandalous...” I hissed at Jessica and we both chuckled. “Are they related?”
“They’re not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They’re all adopted. Jasper and Rosalie have been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.”
“That’s really kind of nice.”
“I guess so,” Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn’t like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. Typical.
“Have they always lived in Forks?” I asked.
“No. They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska.”
They were outsiders, clearly not accepted, so I wasn’t the only newcomer here.
Edward looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation. And then the four of them left the table together.
I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I’d been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had biology with me the next hour. We walked to class together, me babbling now, her in silence, probably shy.
When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen sitting next to that single open seat.
Well, great: the outcast and the new guy. I remembered the unknown emotion I had before.
As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face, it was more than angry, it was furious, hostile. I looked away quickly. Yep, creepy weirdo.
I had been right about his eyes. They were coal black.
Mrs. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along, then I went to sit by him.
I didn’t look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I tugged at my shirt and gave it a sniff. It smelled like laundry detergent. How could that be offensive? I scooted my chair to the right, giving him as much space as I could. What's wrong with this guy, I thought and ignored him. During the whole class, I only noticed that he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin.
Then the bell rang loudly and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose, he was much taller than I’d thought, yet still shorter than me by a couple of inches, his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat. I snorted, shaking my head. This dude had some serious behavioral issues.
“Hello Beaufort Swan,” a male voice rang. I looked up to see a boy with dark blond hair carefully flat-ironed, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn’t think I smelled bad.
I felt that strange tightness in the stomach again. Oh oh...
“Beau,” I corrected him, with a smile.
“I’m Mike.”
“Hi, Mike.”
“Do you need any help finding your next class?”
“I’m headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it.”
“That’s my next class, too.” He seemed thrilled, though it wasn’t that big of a coincidence in a school this small.
We walked to class together; he was a chatterer and supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He’d lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I’d met today.
But as we were entering the gym, he asked, “So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I’ve never seen him act like that.”
“You noticed too, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said. “He looked like he was in pain or something.”
“I don’t know,” I responded. “I never spoke to him.”
“He’s a weird guy.” Mike lingered by me instead of heading straight into the locker room. “If I were sitting by you, I would have talked to you.” He started blushing. “You seem cool!” He added quickly.
I smiled at him and he quickly walked through the locker room door, I followed slightly bemused. He was so friendly and... Oh my! Was he hitting on me?
The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform. I put it on and played some volleyball. I think I managed quite well, despite all the first day in a new school emotions. Considering the looks Mike gave me, he probably thought the same. Did I have to start worrying about that?
The final bell rang. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I buttoned my coat up and shoved my free hand into a pocket. Gloves, I thought, I was going to need them.
When I walked into the warm office I stopped suddenly. Ed-weird stood at the desk in front of me. He didn’t appear to notice the sound of my entrance.
He was arguing with the receptionist in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour biology to another time, any other time. This dude was starting to seriously piss me off.
I stood pressed against the back wall, trying not to be noticed, when the door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, waving through my hair. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen’s back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me with piercing, hate-filled eyes.
“Never mind, then,” he said hastily in a voice like velvet. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.” And he turned on his heel without another look at me and disappeared out the door.
I shrugged, went to the desk and handed her the signed slip.
“How did your first day go, dear?” The receptionist asked maternally.
“Intriguing,” I replied, smiling with irony.
When I got to the truck, I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. I had some serious meditations to do that night. I headed back to Charlie’s house, grappling with the knots in my stomach.