Chapter Text
The air in Forks didn’t just feel wet; it felt heavy, like walking through a damp wool blanket.
Jacob Black adjusted the strap of his backpack, pulling his hood up to shield his eyes from the mist coating the high school parking lot. Ten years away in San Diego had softened him to the Washington cold, but it hadn't changed the landscape. The trees were still too green, the sky was still a permanent shade of bruised gray, and he was still, much to his daily annoyance, stuck at a modest five-foot-seven.
He had expected to grow into some towering, athletic build like his dad always talked about, but instead, he’d mostly just filled out. He was solid, sure, but he still had to look up at almost every other guy in the junior class.
"Jake! Over here!"
A beat-up orange Chevy truck rumbled into a space a few rows over, and a familiar face leaned out the window. Bella Swan kill-switched the engine, the truck dying with a dramatic shudder, and hopped down. She looked exactly as she had in the photos she’d sent him over the years—pale, slightly clumsy, and wearing a heavy jacket that looked a size too big.
Jacob’s scowl melted into a genuine grin. He walked over, his shorter stride quickening until he caught her in a tight hug. "Tell me that truck didn't just make a death rattle, Bells."
"It has character," Bella defended, huffing a laugh as she pulled back to look at him. "Look at you. You actually came back."
"Billy missed the rain. I missed my best friend," Jacob said, bumping her shoulder with his. "Though I forgot how much this town feels like a refrigerator."
"You'll get used to it again. Come on, let's get our schedules before the office gets flooded."
Walking the halls of Forks High School with Bella felt like a strange exercise in time travel. People stared, but not at Bella. They stared at Jacob—the return of the prodigal son from La Push who had spent a decade living in the sun. He didn't miss the whispers. He was shorter than the varsity athletes passing by, but he carried himself with a sharp, defensive edge. He wasn't timid; if someone stared too long, he stared right back until they looked away.
"So," Bella said as they navigated the crowded hallway toward the front office. "Are you ready for the absolute thrill that is junior year AP English?"
"As long as I don't have to read *Wuthering Heights* again, I'll survive," Jacob muttered.
They secured their schedules and headed toward their first period. The morning passed in a blur of syllabus handouts and teachers mispronouncing his last name. Because he’d been gone so long, the school administration had placed him in the standard Forks curriculum rather than anything specific to the reservation school, meaning he was stuck navigating the social hierarchy of the townies.
By lunchtime, the damp cold had settled into Jacob's bones. He and Bella grabbed their trays—Jacob piling his high with whatever mystery meat the cafeteria was serving—and found a table near the back corner, away from the worst of the noise.
"So, who's who?" Jacob asked, tearing open a bag of chips. "Give me the breakdown. Who do I need to avoid?"
"Honestly? Most people are harmless," Bella said, picking at an apple. "Jessica Stanley will try to get your life story by tomorrow, and Mike Newton will probably try to recruit you for sports. But mostly, it's just... quiet."
Jacob nodded, his eyes scanning the cafeteria. That was when the side doors opened, and a sudden, inexplicable shift in the room's energy made him pause, a chip halfway to his mouth.
Five people walked in. They didn't look like anyone else in Forks. They were devastatingly pale, unnaturally beautiful, and moved with a distinct, fluid grace that felt entirely out of place in a public school cafeteria.
"Who are they?" Jacob asked, his voice dropping.
Bella followed his gaze. "The Cullens. Dr. Cullen and his wife adopted them a few years ago. They keep to themselves. Like, completely."
Jacob watched them. There were two girls and three boys. His eyes lingered on the tallest one with the dark, curly hair, and then shifted to the blonde girl who looked like a runway model. But it was the last one to sit down who caught his attention. He was slender, with untidy, bronze-colored hair that looked like he’d just run his fingers through it. He looked bored, his golden-brown eyes staring blankly at an untouched tray of food.
Suddenly, as if feeling the weight of Jacob's stare, the bronze-haired boy looked up.
His eyes locked directly onto Jacob's.
Jacob felt a weird, sharp jolt in his chest—like a static shock, but deeper. The boy’s expression didn't soften; if anything, his brow furrowed, a flicker of something intense and unreadable crossing his pale features. Jacob, true to his nature, didn't look away. He gave a slight, defiant tilt of his chin, refusing to be intimidated by some pretty townie boy.
The Cullen boy's eyes narrowed slightly, and then he looked away, his jaw tight.
"Creepy," Jacob muttered, finally chewing his chip. "The bronze-haired one. What's his deal?"
"Edward," Bella said softly. "He's... brilliant, apparently. But he doesn't talk to anyone. Don't waste your time."
"Wasn't planning on it," Jacob said, though his eyes drifted back to the table one more time before the bell rang.
The real test of the day came during last period: Biology.
Jacob walked into the classroom a few minutes after Bella, having been held up by a guidance counselor confirming his transfer credits. When he stepped into the room, the teacher, Mr. Banner, signed his slip without looking up and pointed toward the back.
"There's an open seat next to Mr. Cullen. Take that for today."
Jacob suppressed a sigh. Of course.
He walked down the aisle, his boots clicking against the linoleum. Edward Cullen was sitting at the black-topped lab table, stiff as a statue. As Jacob approached, he noticed Edward freeze completely.
Jacob pulled out the chair and sat down, dropping his backpack onto the floor.
The moment he settled into the seat, Edward reacted. It wasn't subtle. The boy gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned stark white. He recoiled toward the very edge of his seat, turning his face completely away from Jacob, slamming a hand over his nose and mouth as if a wave of toxic gas had just hit him.
Jacob blinked, utterly baffled. He glanced down at himself. He’d showered. He was wearing clean clothes. He didn't smell bad.
The teacher started talking about cellular anatomy, but Jacob couldn't focus. The sheer, unadulterated hostility radiating from the guy next to him was making his blood boil. Jacob was a nice guy—he liked to think he was sweet, even—but he didn't take being treated like a leper lying down.
He leaned in slightly, his voice a sharp, fierce whisper. "Look, if you have a problem with me, just say it. You don't have to act like I'm a biohazard."
Edward didn't move. He didn't even breathe. He just kept his eyes glued to the side wall, his eyes dark, nearly black with what looked like pure fury.
Jacob scowled, a hot spark of anger flaring in his chest. *Fine. Screw you too, then.* He shoved his chair an inch away from Edward's side of the table and focused entirely on the whiteboard, his jaw clenched for the remaining forty-five minutes.
The second the bell rang, Edward was gone. He didn't gather his books; he just swept out of the classroom before anyone else had even stood up.
Jacob packed his bag slowly, his hands shaking slightly from the leftover adrenaline. When he walked out to the parking lot, the mist had turned into a steady, freezing drizzle. He found Bella waiting by her truck.
"How was Bio?" she asked, noticing his expression.
"Your boy Edward is a freak," Jacob said flatly, pulling his hood up again. "Acted like I smelled like rotting garbage. Didn't even breathe the whole period."
Bella frowned. "Really? That's weird. He's usually just detached, not... rude."
"Whatever. I don't care," Jacob said, though the annoyance was still buzzing under his skin. "Hey, are you still coming out to the rez this weekend? Billy’s making his frybread."
"Wouldn't miss it," Bella smiled. "See you tomorrow, Jake."
Jacob waved as she climbed into her truck. He didn't have a car yet, so he started the long walk toward the highway where the local bus line ran down toward La Push. As the orange Chevy rumbled out of the parking lot, Jacob pulled his jacket tighter against the damp cold, his mind still cycling through the bizarre, furious look in Edward Cullen's eyes.