Chapter 001
The rain hadn't stopped since I crossed the Washington state line.
I watched it streak across the passenger window of my dad's old pickup truck, each drop racing the next down the glass. Gray sky. Gray road. Gray everything. This was Forks—a town that seemed to exist in perpetual twilight, where the sun was more myth than reality.
"You doing okay, kiddo?" Dad glanced over at me, his weathered hands steady on the steering wheel.
"Yeah." I tried for a smile. "Just taking it all in."
He chuckled, though it sounded forced. "Not much to take in. Rain, trees, more rain."
He wasn't wrong. We'd passed the "Welcome to Forks" sign ten minutes ago, and I'd seen exactly three buildings, countless evergreens, and enough precipitation to fill an ocean. My mother's voice echoed in my head from our last phone call: You don't have to do this, Maya. You can still change your mind.
But I couldn't. Not really. Dad needed me here, even if he'd never say it out loud. After the accident that left him with a limp and early retirement from the force, the silence in his house had apparently become deafening. I'd heard it in his voice during our weekly calls—that hollow quality that came from too many nights alone.
So here I was. Maya Reeves, former Phoenix resident, current Forks transplant. Population: counting me, about 3,200 souls.
"School starts tomorrow," Dad said as we turned onto a residential street. "I called ahead. They've got your schedule ready."
My stomach tightened. New school. New people. New everything. I'd perfected the art of blending in at my old school, of being friendly but not memorable. Something told me that strategy wouldn't work in a town this small.
"Great," I managed.
The house looked the same as I remembered from childhood visits—small, white, with a porch that wrapped around the front. Dad had repainted the trim green, probably to give himself something to do. I grabbed my duffel bag from the truck bed, ignoring the rain that immediately soaked through my jacket.
Home. For now, anyway.
Forks High School looked like every small-town school I'd ever seen in movies: brick building, modest parking lot, a handful of students huddled under the awning to escape the rain. I pulled into a spot in Dad's truck—now officially my truck, a fact that both thrilled and terrified me—and killed the engine.
My fingers drummed against the steering wheel. First day. New girl. Every eye would be on me by lunch.
You can do this.
I grabbed my backpack and made a run for the main entrance. The office was easy to find, marked by a helpful "OFFICE" sign that suggested Forks wasn't big on subtlety. A middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a coffee-stained mug looked up as I entered.
"You must be Maya Reeves! Chief Reeves' daughter?"
Everyone knew everyone here. I was going to have to get used to that.
"That's me."
"Welcome, honey. I'm Mrs. Cope." She handed me a stack of papers. "Schedule, map, locker assignment. If you need anything, you just holler."
I thanked her and studied the schedule. English, Government, Trigonometry, Lunch, Biology, Gym. Standard junior year fare. At least Biology had always been my strong suit.
The morning passed in a blur of introductions and curious stares. By lunch, I'd been asked about Phoenix approximately seventeen times and had lost count of how many people had commented on my "great tan." In Forks, apparently, any skin tone darker than pale was notable.
I was contemplating eating in my truck when a girl with dark, curly hair appeared beside my locker.
"You're Maya, right? I'm Angela Weber." She had a genuine smile, not the calculating kind I'd seen on some of the other girls. "Want to sit with us at lunch?"
Relief flooded through me. "That would be amazing."
Angela's friends were nice enough—Eric, the baby-faced guy who ran the school paper; Jessica, who talked a mile a minute about everything and nothing; Mike, who was friendly but kept staring at me in a way that made me want to put more space between us.
But it was Jessica's commentary that caught my attention.
"Don't look now," she said, leaning in conspiratorially, "but the Cullens just walked in."
I looked.
Of course I looked.
Five of them moved through the cafeteria like they existed in a different dimension. Two girls, three guys, all stunning in a way that didn't seem quite real. They were too perfect—their features too symmetrical, their movements too graceful. The tall blonde guy had his arm around one of the girls, while a smaller, pixie-like girl laughed at something the massive, dark-haired guy said.
But it was the fifth one who stopped my breath.
Bronze hair that looked like he'd run his hands through it repeatedly. Sharp jawline. He sat slightly apart from the others, his golden eyes fixed on the table as if the scratched surface held the secrets of the universe. Even sitting, he radiated tension.
"That's Edward Cullen," Angela said quietly, following my gaze. "He and Alice—the short one—are adopted, like the others. Dr. Cullen and his wife took them all in."
"They're all... together?" I couldn't look away.
"Rosalie—the blonde girl—and Emmett, the big guy, are a thing. And Alice and Jasper—the one who looks like he's in pain—are together too. But Edward doesn't date." Jessica's tone suggested this was a personal affront to her. "Apparently, none of the girls here are good enough for him."
I watched him. He still hadn't looked up, but something about his posture seemed almost... defensive. Like he was holding himself apart on purpose.
"They're all adopted siblings?" I asked.
"Yeah, but not really related, if you know what I mean. Dr. Cullen's young for having five adopted kids, but he and his wife are supposed to be really nice. The kids are just... weird. They don't really hang out with anyone but each other."
As if sensing the attention, the pixie girl—Alice—looked directly at our table. Her eyes found mine, and she smiled.
It wasn't a normal smile. It was knowing. Secret.
I looked away quickly.
Biology was my last class before gym, and I was actually looking forward to it. Science had always made sense to me in a way that social dynamics never did. Predictable. Logical. Safe.
Mr. Banner was already writing something on the board when I walked in. "You must be Miss Reeves. We were just starting our unit on cellular anatomy. There's an open seat at the back."
I scanned the classroom. Most of the lab tables were paired, students already settled in with their partners. And then I saw it—the empty stool next to Edward Cullen.
He sat rigid, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. His hands were flat on the black lab table, fingers spread like he was physically restraining himself from leaving. And his eyes—those strange, golden eyes—were fixed straight ahead with an intensity that seemed almost violent.
My feet carried me down the aisle before my brain could fully process the weirdness of his reaction. The closer I got, the more pronounced his tension became. By the time I slid onto the stool beside him, he looked like he might shatter.
"Hi," I said quietly, trying for friendly. "I'm Maya."
He didn't respond. Didn't even glance my way. His knuckles had gone white where his hands pressed against the table.
Was it something I said? Something I did? I replayed the last thirty seconds in my head and came up with nothing.
Mr. Banner started his lecture on cell structure, and I tried to focus. I really did. But I couldn't ignore the statue of hostile tension sitting eighteen inches away from me. Edward Cullen sat absolutely still, not taking notes, not looking at the board, barely breathing. His entire body angled slightly away from me, as if even sharing the same air was repulsive.
Anger flickered in my chest. I'd been nothing but polite, and this guy was acting like I'd personally offended him by existing.
Fine. If he wanted to be weird and rude, that was his problem.
I focused on Mr. Banner's explanation of mitochondria and tried to ignore the fact that I could feel Edward's eyes on me now. Quick glances, like he was studying something dangerous. Each time I looked his way, he'd already turned back to staring straight ahead.
The class period lasted an eternity.
When the bell finally rang, Edward was out of his seat before the sound finished echoing. He moved with impossible speed, his books already gathered, his long legs carrying him to the door ahead of everyone else. He didn't look back.
I sat there for a moment, stunned and increasingly irritated.
"Don't take it personally," a voice said.
I turned to find a guy with sandy hair and an easy smile standing by my table. "Edward's just... particular about his space. I'm Mike, by the way. We met at lunch?"
"Right." I gathered my things slowly. "Is he always like that with new people?"
"Honestly? I've never seen him quite like that before." Mike's expression turned curious. "Usually he just ignores everyone. That was almost... I don't know. Personal?"
Great. I'd somehow managed to personally offend someone I'd never met before.
I thanked Mike and headed to the gym, my mind churning. There was something wrong about the whole situation. Edward's reaction had been too extreme, too visceral. Like my presence had physically hurt him.
The rest of the day dragged. By the time I got back to the truck, my head was pounding and my clothes were soaked from the perpetual rain. I sat in the driver's seat, key in the ignition, not quite ready to go home and face Dad's questions about my first day.
Movement caught my eye.
Across the parking lot, the Cullens were getting into an expensive-looking Mercedes. Edward stood by the passenger door, frozen, his head turned in my direction. Even from this distance, I could see the intensity in his gaze. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he desperately needed to solve but couldn't quite figure out.
Then Alice touched his arm, said something I couldn't hear, and he jerked his attention away. He got into the car without looking back.
The Mercedes pulled out of the parking lot, and I was left sitting in my truck, rain drumming on the roof, wondering what the hell had just happened.
My phone buzzed. A text from Dad: How was the first day?
I stared at the message, then at the empty space where the Mercedes had been.
Interesting, I typed back. I'll tell you at dinner.
But as I started the truck and headed home, I couldn't shake the feeling that "interesting" didn't even begin to cover it. Something about Edward Cullen's reaction had felt wrong. Dangerous, even.
And the worst part?
Some small, reckless part of me wanted to know why.
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