I stepped out of the car and softly thanked Luna before making my way into school. I hadn't spotted Bella yet, but I hoped she was doing alright. The boys must be losing their minds over her—something typical for human teenage behaviour. After grabbing my schedule, I headed to class. Two periods later, it was finally lunchtime.
I heard someone call my name and turned to see Bella waving me over. She was seated with Mike, Eric, Jessica, and Angela. I walked over and took a seat. Bella's eyes sparkled with excitement as she announced, "You guys should know Savirah, right?" An appreciative murmur of acknowledgment flowed around the table.
"Oh, yeah! You're the one writing and performing songs for prom this year," Mike said, tilting his head slightly as if trying to piece together the memory. I smiled shyly and glanced down at my tray, feeling a familiar mix of pride and modesty creasing my features.
"You're writing songs?" Bella asked, her voice a note higher than usual, her enthusiasm infectious. I couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction. "It's not that big of a deal," I said, trying to downplay it.
Bella frowned at my comment, shaking her head in disbelief. "Uh, yes, it is. It's amazing!" Her words held genuine admiration; I looked down sheepishly.
"It's just two songs," Jessica interjected, trying to keep things in perspective, and I nodded in agreement, thankful for her support.
Just then, Bella's attention drifted toward the entrance of the cafeteria, her curiosity piqued. I followed her gaze and saw the Cullens walking in, moving with an effortless grace that seemed to draw the eyes of everyone in the room. "Who are they?" she asked, visibly intrigued.
"The Cullens," Angela replied matter-of-factly. "They're Doctor and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids. They moved here from Alaska a few years back," Jessica explained, her tone casual yet tinged with a hint of admiration. "They pretty much keep to themselves," Angela added, her expression thoughtful.
I rolled my eyes at the trivializing nature of our conversation, feeling a twinge of annoyance. I distracted myself by fiddling with my food, my mind wandering when I caught the last part of Angela's joke: "Maybe he'll adopt me." The lightness of her comment was ironic, considering the obvious allure of the Cullens.
"Who's he?" Bella inquired innocently as Edward strode into the room, his presence commanding attention effortlessly. Jessica's face lit up. "That's Edward Cullen. He's totally gorgeous, obviously, but apparently, nobody here is good enough for him." Her words held the weight of validation; it was clear she was captivated.
In response, I couldn't help but interject, "Jessica, if he doesn't like you, then don't worry about it. Trust me, he's an idiot and doesn't deserve you."
Bella nudged me playfully, her curiosity bubbling beneath her innocent façade. "Is it wrong to think someone is odd just because of the way they look at you?" she asked, genuinely perplexed. I glanced over my shoulder, catching Edward's intense gaze, his expression unreadable. "It's fine. He looks at me like that too," I replied, shrugging off the weight of his stare. In my head, I scoffed 'vampires,' I thought.
As lunchtime wore on and the conversation continued to shift, I walked into art class, one of my favourite subjects, excitement bubbling within me. I silently settled into an empty desk beside Rosalie, surprised to find myself in her proximity since I hadn't sat with her before. Maybe she had changed classes? Come to think of it, I didn't have any classes with the Cullens besides Edward.
As I unpacked my art supplies, I felt Rosalie's watchful gaze on me, I knew she smelt something off about me, that I didn't smell human. Not like she smelt any better though.
Today's assignment revolved around the theme of "mythical," so I drew my father, Hiccup, Astrid and Stormfly. (I need name ideas)
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(Not mine)
Just the thought of both Hiccup and Astrid brought a pang of nostalgia, and I realized how much I missed them. Loneliness crept in again; I had no one to talk to about this—not even my father. My siblings wouldn't understand my feelings, nor would my stepmother Luna, with whom I had a strained relationship. Despite the connection I felt toward Bella, I knew I could never share my true self with her. She simply couldn't know.
Completing the drawing brought a wave of comfort, but as I glanced up, I caught Rosalie's gaze fixed on me, her expression inscrutable. There was something about the way she looked at me—it wasn't just curiosity; it felt like she was seeing through the façade I wore every day.
"You're quite the artist," she said softly, breaking the silence that had settled between us. I looked at her, surprised by the compliment. Rosalie had a reputation for being aloof, and I hadn't expected anything beyond her usual beauty and disdain.
"Thanks," I replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly acutely aware of my own self-consciousness.
"Have you ever considered making it more than just a hobby?" she continued, her tone surprisingly encouraging. "You have talent."
I hesitated, my instincts swirling, unsure if I could trust her. "Maybe one day," I finally replied.
