talia

The car ride upstate was quick. It was supposed to be five hours but seemed shorter. It flashed by too fast for my liking; I wanted time to think. With me, I had just my iPhone and some earphones to use. The rest of my belongings were tightly packed in the trunk. 

My aunt Lydia, as perceptive as she was, never pushed for discussion. While usually talkative, she didn’t attempt to start a conversation with me the entire time. She glanced at me occasionally but respected my silence, knowing it wasn’t due to her. During the average car ride, we’d talk about anything and everything, never a moment of silence. This wasn’t the average car ride, though. This was the trip to my new home. 

In New York State, the small and inconsequential town of East Aurora exists. It’s right outside of Buffalo and far enough away from home. A friendly little sign welcomed us in. I would be living here with Lydia for the remainder of my high school years, until I finally disappeared to college. Before moving here, I attempted to do some research. I thought that maybe, the more I learned about this town, the more I’d enjoy being here. After all, there’s no real reason I shouldn’t like East Aurora. It’s named one of the best towns in Upstate New York. My distaste could just be misplaced anger. What I should be angry at is what brought me to move here. However, studying this place only gave reason to dislike it.

The population is a mere 5,023, ten times less than my hometown. I didn’t want to think of how few students there’d be at my new school, or how much harder it would be to find like-minded people. About half of the year gets some kind of precipitation. I don’t mind the occasional rain, but here it’s excessive. East Aurora is literally ranked one of the gloomiest towns in America. In all honesty, it's a fitting environment for me. 

At least I’d be with my aunt. Lydia’s energy is guaranteed to brighten even the worst situations. How lucky I was, to end up with her as my guardian. 

"y/n,” Lydia said, her voice breaking the silence. “We’re here.”

I eased out of the car, assessing the house before grabbing some of my bags. Lydia took the little that was left, as I had not brought much to begin with. Her house, my new home, was charming. It was a small, two-floor with old white paneling and a distinct red door. A tall, yellow oak tree cast a shadow across her front yard, its fallen leaves scattered. As I stepped on them, they made a slight yet satisfying crunch under my shoes. 

On the front porch, I waited for Lydia to unlock the door. When she took out her keys, she handed me one of my own. There was a cute design on my key, light blue hibiscus flowers. She could’ve easily given me a boring silver one. Lydia always went out of her way to make these little gestures, and though they might go unnoticed by others, I saw and appreciated each one.

The door was opened and I placed my bags by the stairs. She told me beforehand that I’d get the second-floor bedroom. I would bring everything up later. For now, I explored the downstairs. 

The layout was comfortable—like everything was right where it belonged. A stark contrast to what I used to live in. This house must have been built a long time ago. Around the 1940s, I guessed, based on the general feel of things. It seemed to have been slightly remodeled recently. Just the kitchen, though. The cabinets and counters were new and changed to fit whatever trend Lydia found on social media. I believe it may have looked better had it stayed in its original design. Yet that might just be my love of antiques speaking.

The warm, inviting living room was right next to the kitchen. It was cramped but not claustrophobic. There was one larger couch, a smaller loveseat, and a worn armchair. They were all a part of a matching set and the rest of the room was themed around it. A dark wooden coffee table stood in the center with a large, cozy rug under it. On the wall parallel to the sofas, there was a TV. It was one of those Smart-TVs that have streaming services rather than cable. Among the older items in the room, it seemed out of place.

Lydia, who had randomly vanished, caught up to me again. She led me to my room, taking the bags I left by the stairs. I helped her out, taking some from her hands. Once upstairs, I noticed that there wasn’t much on this floor. It was just my bedroom and the second bathroom. There was no reason for anyone to come up here, giving me near complete privacy. It felt like my own personal apartment, a space entirely for myself.

"Here's your room!" She said, opening the door with her side. 

I let out a faint gasp. It was perfect. My furniture had already been shipped here, and Lydia somehow knew precisely where to put it all. My bed was placed in a corner near two, tall windows. I would get a perfect view of the sunrise from them—it was twilight and they still illuminated the entire room. My desk was against another wall with a bookshelf close by. A soft, gray carpet was placed in the middle of the cold hardwood floor. The walls were blank white. I probably wouldn’t paint over them; instead, I would set up posters and lights all over. There were no dressers, which initially confused me, until I caught the spacious closet across from the windows. A full-length mirror was hung next to it. Everything looked exactly as I imagined it, like a puzzle that had been put together.

“I love it,” I whispered loud enough for her to hear. 

Before I could utter a ‘thank you,’ a wide smile spread across her face, and she wrapped her arms around me. My body stiffened. I stood there, frozen, unsure how to react. I wasn’t used to people showing love like that. My mom hates affection, and I don't think my dad loved anyone to begin with. 

There was no use in pitying myself about it; they never would. Too caught up in their emotional garbage to even care about their own daughter. That’s why I’m here now, anyway. No matter what happens to me in East Aurora, it’s bound to be better than living with them. 

I relaxed and let myself embrace her in return, hoping it expressed my appreciation. 

Lydia let go first, “How ‘bout we order dinner tonight?” She offered. “What do you wanna get? Pizza? Chinese?”

“Pizza’s good. Thanks.”

“It’s no problem, y/n. I’ll call you down when it comes,” Lydia left my room, and I could hear the creaks of her going down the stairs. 

Once alone, I began unpacking my bags. It didn’t take long to do. Most of my things had already been brought here in the moving vans. So, to occupy the time, I decided to pick out my outfit for tomorrow. Oh, yeah. That reminds me. Tomorrow will be my first day of junior year. My first day at East Aurora High School—a small school with a disturbing total of only five hundred and twenty-eight. Most, if not all, of them, are students who have lived here their entire lives. In Hackensack, my old town, we’d get plenty of new students each year. It was expected, nothing out of the ordinary. I couldn’t say the same for this school. I was the new girl, an outsider. I have never been “popular” before. There was always someone more exciting, more interesting. Here, however, I would be the interesting one. I would stand out.

I couldn’t quite put into words how much that concept frightened me.

…

That night, sleep was slow to arrive. I spent more time tossing and turning than actually sleeping. My anxiety kept me up, refusing to allow me any rest. When pouring rain abruptly began, it felt like I’d taken melatonin. All of my worries faded, and I instantly drifted off. I love nighttime rain. It’s insanely calming and a perfect background noise. My only issue comes when it seeps into the morning, which of course it did.

My unrelenting alarm shoved me awake. I almost threw my phone across the room—my dream had just been getting good. The details slipped away as I struggled to desperately hold on. A vague, fuzzy memory was all that I could remember. 

Eventually, I surrendered and began getting ready. While I didn’t want to stand out, I knew it would be inevitable. The least I could do was try to make a good first impression. 

I picked out my outfit—an oversized, unbuttoned flannel with a white tank top underneath and my favorite pair of jeans. I layered a couple of silver necklaces as well. For shoes, I put on black Converse. The colors complement each other pleasantly. I dappled on some light makeup, just lip tint and mascara, but I did not have enough time for my usual routine. I quickly glanced at the mirror and confidently grinned. Aside from my characteristically uncooperative hair, I was satisfied with how I looked. 

My backpack, already prepared, was by the door. I swiftly grabbed it and rushed downstairs. Lydia was waiting for me, car keys in hand. 

“So… how do I look?” I gave her a complete 360. 

“Beautiful, as usual,” she smiled. “Now c’mon, you can’t be late on your first day!”

It was a short drive to school. As much as I love Lydia, I couldn’t wait until I got my own car. I would have preferred to boil in my stress and anticipation silently, but she kept trying to reassure me. Maybe I could get a car soon. I was planning on waiting until my birthday, which was only a couple months away, but here you don’t need to be seventeen to drive. In New York, you can get a driver’s license at sixteen. I should ask to take lessons. Lydia could probably find me a cheap, used car. Anything would be good, honestly. 

“Alright y/n, we’re pulling up now,” my aunt’s encouraging voice just now registering in my brain. “Remember: be yourself! Who cares what those lameos think about you? Have a great day, I love you!”

“Okay, okay! Love you, too,” I laughed, stepping out of the car. She hesitantly drove away, a line of cars behind her beeping. 

East Aurora High School was a quaint brick building surrounded by various fields and courts. Fortunately, the rain had briefly paused, but I knew it wouldn’t wait long. I hurried under a welcoming blue arch that hung over the main entrance. And, as predicted, a soft drizzle began as soon as I was safe. Entering the school, it seemed completely average. Nothing looked out of the ordinary—besides me, evidently. 

Simply walking through the hallways proved that point. I was something new to look at, something different. An abundance of curious eyes followed me as I made my way to the main office to retrieve my schedule. 

It was a glass room, brightly lit with what reminded me of hospital lighting. There was one long front desk that was manned by a short, kind-looking elderly woman. She sat and stared at her outdated computer, not noticing when I walked in. Besides her and I, the office was empty. The little waiting room in the corner appeared to have never been used. 

“Hello,” I greeted the secretary. “I’m here for my schedule.”

“Ah, yes. Our new student,” her voice emphasized it as if it was abnormal. Which, in this school, it probably was. “What was your name, sweetie?”

“Uh, y/n.”

“Is ‘y/n’ short for anything?” She looked away from her computer, adjusting her glasses.

“Nope. It’s just y/n,” I flatly stated.

“Alrighty,” the woman printed a paper and handed it to me. “There’s your schedule. I included a map in case you get lost. Enjoy your first day!”

I resisted the urge to scoff. Get lost in a place this small? “Thank you,” I replied as I left. 

My first period was AP English Language and Composition, a light class to start the day. I’ve always loved English class. Writing seemed to come naturally to me and reading I enjoy. I used to not be able to understand how people hated the class. Now I can. It’s still easy for me, but not as enjoyable as it once was. It seems all we do is read nonfiction and write essays. I suppose what I actually loved was creative writing. 

The morning classes went by relatively fast. It was mostly the basic introductions to each subject. Nothing worth noting in that matter. Thankfully, I’d shown up on the first day, so I never had to introduce myself to the class. That would have been painstakingly awkward. 

I was starting to recognize a few faces, but I didn't quite know the names to place with them. Still, everyone was eager to meet me. It was like I was some celebrity, and all of the students were the paparazzi. As I expected, they’d been anticipating my arrival all morning. Well, it wasn’t really me they were excited about, but more so the idea of having a new student. I can remember a few interactions I had in particular. 

In gym, which was unfortunately second period, I met this one girl—Claire. Claire was slightly taller than me and wore a bright pink shirt with a matching skirt. She would have looked like any other overdressed girl, if not for her recognizable deep orange hair. It made her stand out and emphasized her softer features. She must’ve wanted to make a claim on me or something. Whenever she was given the chance, Claire talked and talked and talked. It was difficult to keep up with her. I still was polite, of course, smiling and replying to whatever was said. At the end of the period, Claire invited me to sit with her at lunch, and I accepted. 

Then in class following that, Biology, I met this extremely outgoing boy. His name was Logan and made sure I knew that, reminding me twice when I had remembered the first time. He appeared like your typical teenage boy, down to his brunette hair which was cut in the same standard haircut as nearly every boy I’d ever seen. When he came in, he chose the seat directly next to mine. 

“You’re the new girl, y/n y/ln?” he asked. It was more of a statement than a question.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I answered. “And you are?”

“Logan Cooper,” he flashed me a grin. “So, where’s your next class?”

“One sec, let me see…” I pulled out my schedule to check, still extremely confused. The map had helped, after all. “I have AP Calc.” I was not looking forward to that. Math was never my strong suit. It baffles me that I even got into the AP class. 

“Oh, you’re one of the smart kids, huh? That’s cool,” Logan nodded. I would’ve thought it was teasing if not for his completely genuine tone. “Well, I’m heading to that area, too. I’ll show you the way.”

“Sure, thanks,” I smiled. He seemed likable enough and I needed to make friends here. 

The class ended and we walked out together. In the hallways, there were yet again peering eyes. I expected it at this point. 

“How are you finding things in East Aurora?” He said it in a way that made him sound collected. He was trying to seem nonchalant, and I could see right through it. It was sort of amusing, to be honest. His face was looking forward in a weak attempt to conceal his constant peeks at me.

“It’s pretty nice so far. The weather sucks though.”

“Can’t argue with that. Where’d you move from, by the way?”

“Hackensack, New Jersey.”

“I think I heard a song about there once.”

The rest of our conversation went similarly until I finally reached Calculus. I couldn’t complain about Logan. He was one of the nicest people I’d met today. I could imagine us becoming friends. Apparently, he was in the same friend group as Claire, so we’d probably talk a bit. Although I don’t think he wants to be just friends, based on how he acted and how hopeful he was at the possibility of us having additional classes together. I’ll probably have to do something about that later. 

I had one more class before lunch, Spanish. I started to notice a pattern: in my APs, far fewer students introduced themselves to me than in my regular classes. It was refreshing to have a few periods where I was able to just focus.

 Everything was backward—normal classes made me tense, while AP classes strangely put me at ease. It wasn’t like I really had anything to stress about either. Maybe first-day jitters? I had no explanation for it.

As soon as the fifth-period bell rang, Claire’s arm instinctively interlocked mine and she led me to the cafeteria. It was a large space, about the size of the gymnasium. Extremely loud, too, but I was accustomed to that. Circular tables were scattered around and getting moved together by students. After picking up food, I was brought to the rest of Claire’s friends. They had me seated in the middle of the table. The environment could only be described as similar to a late-night show, with me as the interviewee. 

“Why’d you move here?” asks a dark-haired girl. 

That’s a difficult one. I watered it down, “New custody agreement. I’m living with my aunt now.”

“What was your old school like?” A different one spoke.

“It was much, much bigger. I think there were, like, triple the students.”

I was interrogated a bit more before they grew bored. Finally, I sighed. I tuned out all of the side conversations occurring and looked around the table. 

One bad habit of mine is that I tend to overanalyze people. I never quite understood how it’s seen as negative, though. It’s not like I’m picking people apart or anything. I just try to identify who they are. 

For example, at this table, I could already see the standard mean girl. She’d been giving me an envious stare the entire time. Maybe jealous of the attention I’ve gotten, the attention I don’t even want. Hopefully, I’ll be able to change her opinion of me. I don’t want enemies on my first day.

After determining all of Claire’s friends, I examined the entire cafeteria. The typical cliques appeared obvious. Jocks sat on their table in one corner, obnoxiously laughing at someone. Nerdier students were on the opposite side of the lunchroom, strategically avoiding them. It seemed I was with ‘popular kids’, specifically the popular girls. A parallel group of boys was near us, sitting closely at a separate table. By tomorrow we’d probably all be together. That’s usually how it ends up.

  I might have watched too many high school movies growing up. My skill at this was somewhat concerning. Then again, it was almost comically easy—everything you’d expect at a normal school. 

Then, there were them. 

Words could not describe the emotions that rushed me upon seeing their table. They completely took my breath away. My heart pounded in my chest like I’d sensed danger. I must’ve entered fight-or-flight mode or something. However, there was no threat. Not physically, at least. Mentally, it took a minute to regain myself. How could they be real? 

They were unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Mythically gorgeous, as if marble statues rather than pubescent high schoolers. They were the type of beautiful that is delicately handcrafted with immense precision and skill, becoming a museum centerpiece and a tourist highlight. A timeless allure that’ll never go out of style. Perhaps they were models who underwent layers and layers of Photoshop on top of their cosmetic surgeries. I don’t know how they’d get real-life editing, though. No explanation made sense. They seemed impossible, unreal. Yet, there they sat, just a couple of feet away.

The group looked so similar, yet vastly different. For starters, all of them could be mistaken for a supermodel. Their features were perfectly straight and symmetrical. Aside from that, they shared the same freakishly pale, practically translucent, skin. Deep, purple dark circles were another thing they had in common. It was like they hadn’t slept in days, although that was easily disproved by their looks. These strange details in their coloring vaguely reminded me of goth makeup. Except, it was natural.

The initial blinding rose-colored haze had alleviated and I was able to focus again. I searched their table to learn more about them based on their appearance and manner. There were six of them—three boys, three girls. Throughout the day, none of them had stared at me. I didn’t even notice them, too focused on the others bombarding me with introductions. I was able to continue gawking without fear of being caught. 

My eyes met the girls first. They were nothing alike. The small girl was extremely petite with spiky, pixie-like qualities. She sat in the center of their table, entertained by whatever they were discussing. Her choppy, short black hair must’ve been buzzed recently. She pulls off the look flawlessly. That’s an insanely difficult feat, I was impressed. The tall blonde I could foresee becoming an A-list celebrity. She was heart-stoppingly stunning with the type of figure that gives other women mental illnesses. I could feel my own self-esteem wither just by being in proximity to her. Her confidence radiated from her pores, making her even more attractive, if that was possible. The final girl was a perfect mix of the other two. She had long, straight brown hair and a slender physique. Something about her seemed more normal. Not as inconceivable as the rest. It wasn’t at all in a bad way. If anything, it only amplified her beauty. 

I studied the boys next. They, too, were very unique. All but one of them sat paired with a girl. The lanky redhead was seated near the brown-haired girl, holding her closely. I would think he was the silent type, but it seemed his group was hanging on his every word. It must be an interesting conversation. An older-looking, muscular boy was with the heavenly blonde. He had curly dark hair and a towering frame, one of a devoted bodybuilder. It surprised me he was a student here. He looked more like a teacher. Then, as my view shifted to the last person left at the table, everything stopped.

In middle school, I was obsessed with romances and romcoms. My all-time favorite part in any of them was always the slow-motion entrances. When the main character’s love interest walked in and the lighting turned pink as romantic music played. I knew that wasn’t really how it worked, but I just loved imagining it.

Now, at sixteen, I learned that those movies were undoubtedly accurate. Time ceased to exist when my eyes locked onto him. Like the others, he was remarkably gorgeous, but his beauty was of its own kind—different in a way I couldn’t explain. He was tall and lean, with toned muscles visible through his fitted black sweater. His wavy hair was honey blonde, grown out fairly past the nape of his neck. It was slightly shaggy, parted in the middle, and intentionally styled to look messy. Though relatively pale, he was tanner than the rest. Everything about him was flattering, as if each detail had been meticulously planned. 

I momentarily snapped out of my trance to make sure I wasn’t obviously gaping at him. As soon as I knew I still seemed normal, my sights returned to the table that had oh-so-captivated me. 

It was almost as if they heard me thinking of them. Horrifyingly, they all simultaneously glanced back at me and continued their discussion. Caught off-guard, I was in too much shock to stop staring. I sat paralyzed, unable to move. 

Then the person I’d least imagined did a double-take. The dreamy blonde boy’s gaze met mine, and for a minute, I was on another planet. Every love song I could remember suddenly flashed through my mind. His face was just as devastatingly beautiful as the rest of him. Flawlessly sculpted with not one imperfection, angular yet somehow delicate. I was sincerely intimidated. 

His eyes, burning intensely with their stare, fascinated me the most. They were as golden as the sunrise, glistening like one too. 

“Oh my god…” I murmured, entirely stunned. My cheeks heated up, a mocking scarlet appearing. I covered my face with my hand. 

“What is it?” Claire snapped her head around.

“Who are they?” I breathed. 

The moment I spoke, he looked away. The large, muscular one teasingly nudged him as their table chuckled.

Claire giggled, already knowing who I was referring to based on my tone alone. “So you’ve seen the Cullens?”

I didn’t respond. That was the exact reply she was searching for. 

“They’re like a big, adopted family or whatever. There’s Alice, Emmett, and Edward Cullen. Not related, but share the same last name. Rosalie and Jasper Hale, they’re twins. Then there’s Bella Swan. They’re all foster kids, adopted by this super young couple, Dr. Cullen and his wife. Can’t have children themselves, apparently.”

“Wait, they aren’t related? All of them seem sorta similar.” That was a half-lie. I needed to get more information.

“No, they’re not. It’s really weird, too. Because, like, they’re not just siblings. Most of them are together! Rosalie and Emmett, Bella and Edward. And, like, I get it isn’t incest but it’s still strange. They live together. But, to each their own, I guess.”

I tried not to be judgemental, but Claire was right. It probably wasn’t as simple as she was explaining it. She made it sound like it was a Siblings or Dating quiz and the answer was both. 

“They’re all very,” I tried to find the right word, nothing quite did them justice, “attractive.” 

“Yeah, I know right? It’s like, does Dr. Cullen only adopt supermodels? That’s also why it’s so annoying they’re just dating each other. They’re like the only hot people here! Give other people a chance for once!” Claire seemed very passionate about this topic as if she could rant about it for days. 

I hummed in mild agreement, “How long have they lived here for?”

“Not long, moved here the start of last year. From Washington. Everyone was totally excited we’d get new students but they were, like, really odd. Most of them didn’t even talk to people outside their group. The girl who did kinda talk, Alice, was just bizarre. Not in like a cool way, either. More in a ‘get this girl some help’ way. But yeah, I don’t know. Pretty disappointing.”

“Maybe they’re just shy,” I suggested. I don’t know why I had the urge to defend them.

Checking the table, I took into account what Claire told me. It was difficult to imagine them like that, but I couldn’t say it wasn’t believable. 

The Cullens were quiet now, staring off into various directions. They were all so incredibly calm and still. Truly, they could pass as marble statues. Their appearance and mannerisms fit the bill. 

The boy hadn’t faced me again. He was off in his own world, engrossed in thought. Perhaps for the best. My humiliating blush finally wore off. 

“Which one is the blonde boy?” I blurted out, unable to silence my curiosity. 

“That’s Jasper Hale,” Claire was partially confused. “He’s cute, I guess. If you’re into that cold, mysterious type. I personally am not. He’s the only single one though.” She frowned.

I’m pretty sure Claire’s blind, but that’s her issue. “He isn’t dating anyone?”

“No,” she sighed, “I don’t understand why he and Alice don’t. They seem to match each other’s weirdness.”

A small smile grew on my face. There was no point in hiding it. 

“Oh,” Claire smirked. “That’s why you’re asking. Well, good luck. You’ll need it. I’ve literally never seen him speak.”

The lunch bell rang, and I was headed to my afternoon classes. How was I supposed to focus now? 

…

It wasn’t until seventh period I saw the Cullens again. While technically only an hour wait, it was an eternity. It was AP U.S. History, a class that piqued my interest. I chose it over the other history classes, not due to the material we will be covering, but because of the challenge it offered. Only roughly 50% of students pass their final exam in it. I was determined to be a part of that half that did. 

I stepped through the door, instantly attentive and surveilling the students. After lunch, this became routine. I was embarrassingly desperate to find them. My eyes darted around the room until they finally laid sight on them. 

There were three: Bella Swan, Edward Cullen, and—my heart fluttered—Jasper Hale. They sat together in the middle of the classroom. The desks were in rows today, theirs were closer than the others. It seemed Jasper was out of place among the other two, appearing more distant, both physically and mentally. Probably a third wheel. 

Strategically, I sat behind them. It would not look suspicious, as students had taken the majority of the other desks. 

Right as I took my seat, two things happened.

First, the strange tranquility I’d barely noticed prior was amplified by a million. It was like I’d been injected with an Epi-Pen, except instead of receiving adrenaline, it was Xanax. Maybe the better term would be a tranquilizer. I’m not sure. Whatever it was I was overwhelmingly grateful for. There were no worries in the world, nothing that could break my calm. 

Or that is what I thought, until secondly, the Cullens mood shifted entirely. In a moment, Jasper immediately stiffened in his seat as if in great pain. He was on high alert now, the reason completely unbeknownst to me. I couldn’t even see him breathing. Edward leaned toward him and something whispered quickly, too fast for me to overhear. He and Bella abruptly turned protective over Jasper. Like they were defending him, or possibly defending others from him, that didn’t make sense, though. What was the threat? 

I tried to ignore their behavior and concentrate on class, but it was useless. There wasn’t anything to focus on. The teacher, Mr. Turner, was just introducing the class. I read over the syllabus before, there wasn’t anything said that I didn’t already know. 

My mind was left to wander. Not a good idea, especially right now. I couldn’t help but wonder if their reactions were because of me. It seemed ridiculous, but there was no other rationale. What did I do to cause that? Was he really that disturbed by me? That wasn’t the truth, right? I fidgeted with my hands, unable to stay still. 

I wanted to cry, but that was irrational. There was nothing to be upset over. I don’t know the Cullens, I’ve never met them. It wasn’t like they were some close friend who betrayed me. I don’t know why I was so hurt. 

Thankfully, the period ended right on cue. The three of them were gone in a split second, swiftly dashing out of the class. 

Claire was right, the Cullens are just weird. Still, somewhere deep inside me, I knew there had to be more. It wasn’t over.