Daylight (Lesbian Twilight X Btvs Fanfiction)

Chapter 2:First Meetings

I didn't sleep well that night - I was too focused on the following day. Helen crossed my mind. She had been everything I wasn't. I was sure if it wasn't that our moms knew each other, we would have never been friends. She was surely happier without me anchoring her to the ground.

At dawn, the sun filled my room, waking me up. We had to get the curtains installed as soon as possible. I wasn't made for waking up early. I took advantage of the time it had given me, though. Rummaging through my suitcases, I found my diary. My mother had gifted it to me the previous year, after I had stopped talking to her about my feelings. She insisted that at least I had to write them. I had left it unused until now. I didn't even know why I had taken it. Something to remember she cared about me.I took it out of the suitcase and listened to her. I wrote what I felt. My handwriting was ugly, and what I wrote wasn't very deep. It was dry and short, not unlike me. It really had been a stupid idea. It hadn't helped at all. I threw the diary across the room and continued looking. I also found my favorite necklace- if only because of the irony of it. Phil had given it to me on my thirteenth birthday. It had my initials on it. Except he didn't know my name was Isabella, so the initials were...BS. I decided to wear it - maybe it would give me the confidence I needed - and left for breakfast.
Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked, even though I knew his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station. After he left, I sat on the couch and examined the living room with its blank walls and wood panelled floors. A dark wooden coffee table stood in the centre of the room. Over the small fireplace, my dad had already set a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at - I would have to see what I could to get Charlie to put them somewhere else or burn them preferably.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable, but not for the reason I thought it would. My mom had never told me how it ended, she just said she'd had to leave. I couldn't help but want to know more about it.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I grabbed my things.

I reached for my house key and locked up. The gravel crunched as I walked, the sun warming my face. Once again, I thanked Charlie mentally that I wasn't living in Forks. Nothing would have worsened this day like rain.

Inside the truck, it was nice and hot. Either the previous owner or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, it was about two streets from our house. It was big, bigger than I expected for a town this size. It had a front lawn and many trees planted on it. A small set of stone stairs went up to a plaza of the same material, with benches on the sides and a couple of planters in the centre. The building in itself looked like a two-story mansion with an arc on top of the front door and gigantic windows all along the front. I had to admit I was impressed so impressed that I couldn't even feel nostalgia for my old high school. I looked for a car park and decided to go inside.
Inside, it was brightly lit and cooler than I'd hoped for. The office was small in contrast with the impressive building; a little waiting area with a couple of chairs, the same tile floor as the rest of the building, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. Behind it, a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses was writing on a computer.