Only by Moonlight

Chapter 3

I don’t own Twilight. I only wish I did. 

Chapter Three 

            I woke up the next morning feeling completely refreshed—which was an utterly new experience for me. I sprang out of bed, turning back to make up my bed and check the time on my ancient alarm clock—the wind-up kind with two silver bells on top of the chrome casing. The analog clock face with Roman numerals read 6:18, twelve whole minutes before I had set it to go off in time for me to get ready for my Monday morning classes.   

            Wow. I was up early…even before my alarm went off. Usually I reset my alarm two or three times each morning before finally dragging myself out of bed, moaning and groaning…especially on Monday mornings like today.

            My hatred of mornings was the stuff of legends, after all. But here I was, wide awake and downright cheerful.

            How weird was that?

            But with a grin, I switched off the alarm, gathered my things, and headed to the bathroom, humming under my breath.

            Half an hour later, I clattered down the stairs and into the kitchen to search for something for breakfast. The expensive coffee maker on the counter was percolating at full bore, but while I loved the aroma of coffee, I despised the bitter taste…unless it was well-hidden by whipped cream and caramel syrup in a Frappuccino. Grabbing my copper tea kettle from the stove top, I filled it with water at the tap and set it down to boil. Alice had placed my Brown Betty teapot, which had belonged to my grandmother, in a place of honor on the counter; I readied it, measuring out my usual three level teaspoons of Fortnum & Mason’s tea leaves that I saved my pennies to buy from a funky British tea shop not far from campus. Those British ladies in the shop knew me by name, often offering me a decadent Walker’s shortbread “biscuit” (as the Brits called cookies).

            As the kettle heated, I scavenged the fridge, deciding on a simple breakfast of toast and fruit. Just as the kettle began to whistle, my toast popped up; I added a tiny smear of lemon curd (also from the tea shop) to each of the two slices of toast before carefully filling the teapot with boiling water. By the time I readied my breakfast and peeled a tangerine, the tea had steeped the required three minutes, and, placing the antique strainer over the teacup my mother had given me for my twelfth birthday, I carefully poured the tea, catching the loose leaves in the wire mesh.

            Carrying my plate and teacup with saucer to the kitchen table, I seated myself so that I could look out the window while I ate. Just as I took the first bite, I heard footsteps bounding down the stairs. A moment later, Alice and Jasper entered the kitchen, Alice dressed in a gray pencil skirt, matching heels, and a sky-blue blouse and Jasper in a Clash t-shirt under a well-worn leather jacket and artfully-ripped jeans over cowboy boots.

            I looked down at my threadbare black cardigan over a nondescript gray t-shirt, and my favorite Target jeans with scuffed black ballet flats and felt quite dowdy beside Alice’s designer outfit and Jasper’s rock-star vibe.

            So much for my good mood….  

            But Alice seemed to be an expert at dispelling negativity. “Good morning, Bella! How did you sleep?” she chirped as she poured mugs of coffee for herself and Jasper.

            I swallowed a bite of toast before slowly replying. “Really well…which is strange. I never sleep much my first night in a new place.”