The Twilight Saga - nvrehs.info torrent. Picktorrent: twilight e book ita - Free Search and Download Torrents at search engine. Download Music. -- -- TWILIGHT. By. Stephenie Meyer. Contents. PREFACE. 1. FIRST SIGHT. 2. OPEN BOOK. 3. PHENOMENON. 4. INVITATIONS. 5. BLOOD TYPE. 6. Twilight Complete Series. Topics Twilight saga, all parts. Collectionopensource. LanguageEnglish. Twilight Saga. IdentifierBook3Eclipse.
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Nov 21, Chris Van Dyke rated it liked it. I actually had to give this book three separate reviews by three sides of my personality. My three-star rating is the median of the three: Bella is smart, funny, well-read, pretty and yet misunderstood by most of her peers just like me.
Then she meets a cool, hot guy who turns out to be a good vampire, and he can do really cool things, like run fast and stop cars with his hands, but he's still sweet and wonderful. It's ultimate wish-fulfillm I actually had to give this book three separate reviews by three sides of my personality.
It's ultimate wish-fulfillment fantasy -- what's not to like? Meyers can tell a pretty good story, when she lets herself actually tell it -- the book starts out well, and would have been a bit more interesting if I hadn't known he was a vampire all along. Then it slows down during the long "getting to know you" dialogue exchanges between Edward and Bella -- there's no plot, just back-story and exposition disguised as conversations, and far too many "I can't be with you, I don't want to hurt you!
When the evil vamps show up, however, the story kicks back in and the end is quite exciting.
When Meyers isn't dwelling on how perfectly angelic Edward is again! Since there are A LOT of pages to turn, I wish she would have infused that urgency into the story more often.
While abandoning most of the conventional cliches of vampire-lore stakes, sunlight, garlic, coffins she keeps all the modern-vamp-romance cliches alabaster skin, good hair, expensive taste in clothes, tragically distant , and adds a few of her own unfortunate twists vampires avoid the sun because it makes them sparkle, the good-vamp clan play some extreme version of baseball in a scene that was far too Quidich-y for my taste. Too many cliches or trying to hard to be original -- somehow both criticisms are accurate.
Review 3, by My Inner Feminist 1 Star: Meyers describes Bella as being strong, brave, and independent, but then shows her as a spineless, cowering victim who needs to be saved by her violently jealous and over-protective boyfriend. She constantly goes on and on about how Edward is perfect at everything and how he's so gorgeous and she is so unworthy of him, how he's so strong and he protects her.
In fact, she never gives any reason for liking him other than how hot he is, but that's fair because Edward never gives a reason for liking her other than she smells good.
He is frustrated that Bella is the only person whose thoughts he can't read, so he eavesdrops on her friends minds to find out what they talk about, he follows her whenever she leaves her house, and he secretly camps outside her room when she sleeps - that doesn't sound sweet, it sounds creepy. Sep 15, Jared Vincent Lacaran rated it did not like it Shelves: Words need not be said.
Jan 15, Joe rated it did not like it Recommends it for: Save your time: First pages: I'm dangerous! I wish I was kidding Last pages: I'm being chased! I'm scared! Oh my. This book, to me, is like chocolate: By "beneficial qualities", I mean that it's reading, and since when is reading bad?
Let me say quite clearly that I'm a sucker for romance, especially the intense, passionate, tragic kind. Sound corny? Yeah, I know, and the only reason Meyer gets away with it as well as she does is because Twilight doesn't try to be anything it's not, and it has such conviction. Only Meyer could get away with giving her narrator the name Isabella Swan.
She says in her little bio at the back that she wanted to write believable characters: True, a lot of people haven't been able to suspend their disbelief with this book, but that doesn't affect my reading experience: Seventeen year old Bella's parents are divorced.
She lives with her mum in Phoenix, Arizona, and spends time with her dad Charlie in Forks, Washington State, where it rains almost constantly.
She hates Forks, but when her mum remarries a baseball player, Phil, and starts travelling with him, Bella decides to move to Forks.
On her first day at school she notices the isolated group of five beautiful, graceful siblings. Rosalie, Alice, Emmet, Edward and Jasper. One in particular catches her eye: Edward Cullen, with his rust-brown hair and topaz eyes. She is more than a little surprised and shocked when he seems to have developed an acute, profound hatred of her. Her fascination deepens, especially when, after a brief disappearance, he saves her life.
She soon figures out what Edward is, and the knowledge doesn't frighten her. The shaky friendship between them develops into something much stronger, and Edward reveals his overpowering reaction to her smell that nearly made him kill her on the spot - hence the look on his face that so shocked her, and the restraint he put on himself during an hour of Biology.
Let's not forget he's incredibly handsome: My fascination grew alongside hers, until I too fell in love with Edward - in a totally girly, daydreamy way.
Yes, I admit it. I don't know if that makes this a girly kind of book - these days those boundaries don't seem to matter so much, and the vampire family is pretty darn cool, what with Edward's extra ability to read minds, Alice's premonitions, Jasper's ability to affect people's emotions, their speed, their invincibility Bella is at one point compared to Lois Lane, because Edward and his kin really are like Superman. One of the things I love about YA books: Granted there is some repetition in Twilight , but to me it's necessary repetition.
There's nothing superfluous in Twilight , nothing that shouldn't be there, and the flow, the pacing, is great. It's a fat book, but I read it in two days.
I read it with breakfast, on my walk to the subway, on the subway, up the escalator, through the ticket gates, to work, in my lunch break I couldn't get enough of it, and it left me with that same craving for more that Harry Potter did I remember scrounging around for loose change as soon as I finished one of them and dashing off into the city to get my next fix.
It helped that four were already out when I started. There's plenty of negative stuff you could say about this book - the writing, the characters, the obsession - but again, I couldn't care less: Another thing I loved was all the vampire myths Meyer scrapped. These vampires aren't burnt to ash by sunlight: They are not hurt by crucifixes or stakes through the heart. They drive fast cars really really fast.
And they can fall in love. Seriously though, this was one of most fun, most enjoyable, most romantic books I've read in a long time, and I'm so happy there are two more out with a fourth on the way. They are, somewhat predictably, making Twilight into a movie - still in the early development stage - but it's rather fun to go to the author's website and see her own preferences for actors to play Edward etc.
Can't say I'm familiar with most of them, but her top choice now sadly too old , is indeed a perfect match. Who knows who they'll really cast, but as with the book, the characters have to be right or the whole story will be just silly and sappy. Yes I've been corrupted. Or rather, I've always loved romance stories but had trouble admitting it.
Now, I just don't care: Jun 19, Trin rated it did not like it Shelves: Let me give you an idea of how much my opinion of this book changed at different stages of reading.
When I was about a third of the way through, I was so into it that I immediately put my name on the library reservations list for the sequel, and wishlisted every edition on BookMooch. Now, having finished, I doubt I'll bother to read any further in the series. The opening is really quite interesting: Bella moves from sunny Arizona to rainy, gloomy Washington State to live with her father her som Let me give you an idea of how much my opinion of this book changed at different stages of reading.
Bella moves from sunny Arizona to rainy, gloomy Washington State to live with her father her somewhat loopy mom wants to follow her new husband while he's on the road as a minor league ballplayer. To her surprise, she gains almost instant popularity at her new high school—with the exception of the beautiful Edward Cullen and his siblings, who either ignore her, or in the case of Edward himself, seem to be repulsed by her. Why does he save her life?
What are a bunch of vampires doing impersonating students at a small town high school, anyway? Unfortunately, the answers to all these questions seem to be either nonexistent or extremely lame. Edward reacts weirdly to Bella because she 1 smells unusually good, and 2 is the only person he's ever met whose mind he cannot read. But, you know, the actual mysterious stuff is apparently not important—instead it's more important that we realize that the Cullens are good vampires, who only eat animals, and who do nice, all-American things like play baseball in the woods.
Also, all the weaknesses you've heard vampires have are just myths. Garlic, stakes, even sunlight—no problemo. Yet Edward would never even consider turning Bella, because that would make her an Evil Thing. Instead, what Edward and Bella apparently CAN do is be very emo and teenage about their twu luv despite Edward actually being over years old , and be threatened by a villain that shows up in the novel's last third just to give it some semblance of an actual plot.
Then, once all is well, they go to the prom! And still, none of this answers my number one question: Especially when you're not even trying to bang high school girls. Angel at his most pathetic emo mopiness had more spine. Feb 13, Miranda Reads rated it it was amazing Shelves: So, my review might be a bit biased This was my first and only major episode of fangirling. I owned a tshirt "vegetarian vampire" - so edgy.
I saw the first movie an embarrassingly high number of times in theater. I judged people based off of Team Edward or Team Jacob for the record: Edward in the books, Jacob in the movies. Even now, more than 10 years later, I still absolutely adore this first book - there's too many good feelings.
I tried so, so hard to look at this book with my sop So, my review might be a bit biased I tried so, so hard to look at this book with my sophisticated grown-up eyes, to see past all the trite plotholes and develop a good, sound hatred of Twilight.
I just can't - I live for this series. So, just keep in mind where I am coming from when I decided to reread this one. My overwhelming realization? Bella should probably be hospitalized There is no way she doesn't have some inner-ear or traumatic brain injury.
There is no physically relevant way a seventeen year old could be that unbalanced. It defies all logic. It's like every time I turned the page, there'd she go. You really should stay away from me. The other overwhelming realization? Rosalie was the voice of reason. I remember absolutely hating her because she was the only one who stood between Edward and Bella.
How dare she not love that they're in love? Team Rosalie-the-voice-of-reason all the way. Despite everything, the cheesy quotes, the terribly unrealistic portrayal of love and the big sparkling plot-holes, I can't help it.
I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him. Me, falling in love with this book all over again. Still got that 10 yr old vegetarian vampire shirt in the back of my closet. That's my original Twilight copy, literally worn away from my multiple rereads Audiobook Comments Well-read by Ilyana Kadushin, though I wish the guy voices were a bit more distinct when the girl-reader said them.
They were all just slightly deeper version of girl-voices. Mar 31, Blythe rated it it was ok Shelves: That is all. View all 21 comments. Apr 17, Stephen rated it did not like it Shelves: Your score in Part I should have given you a good idea of how critically you judge vampire fiction, placing you in either "Group A" or "Group B" based on overall points scored.
Group A: A fairly harsh to extremely harsh critic that requires in a vampire story that it be: Group B: This group also includes those that are not sure what the word critic means. In this section, we will take a look at the most popular vampire series in publishing history i. For each of the 4 questions below, select the answer that best describes your personal taste when it comes to vampire fiction. Each answer has a corresponding point value that will be added up at the end of the test.
The total number of points will indicate a preference for a certain kind of vampire novel, which can then be used to assist you in selecting the right story for you. Which of the following best describes your favorite kind of vampire? Ugly and reeking of ickyness with deformed monster-like physical appearance and sharp, nasty animal-like teeth and claws. Which of the following best describes your desire to become a vampire like those in your favorite stories?
Yes, I think it would be pretty cool. Close, but no. I think the loneliness, lack of Vitamin D and dietary restrictions outweigh the longevity and the cool, soulful hipness. No way, I would rather die than become one of those things.
Not only would I rather die but I would personally hogtie my best friends and leave them for the creatures to munch on while I made good my escape. I would say YES, but would spend the next 20 minutes qualifying my answer using phrases like: I would stare at them stunned for several seconds and then bitch slap them hard across the face for asking me such a dumb shit question, screaming that vampires DO NOT sparkle, wear hair gel or play baseball If they made a major hollywood movie of your favorite vampire movie, what rating would the MPAA give it?
PG for strong sexual situations, strong sexual situations and strong to very strong sexual situations. R for Adult language, sweet, bloody violence, fright and nudity followed by bimbo deaths. NC to banned in the U. Ignore the 1 star rating above, download "first printings" of all four of the Twilight books and read them over and over until your eyes bleed.
Best to skip Twilight as it is not likely to be a memorable read for you. View all 92 comments. Jul 02, karen added it Shelves: Call me crazy, but Twilight wasn't that bad. Well, sure, it's bad, but it's not 1-star bad. The sequels were atrocious, sure, but the first book wasn't the worst crap I've ever read. What I suspect most of us hate about Twilight isn't the book itself, but the legion of rabid, terrifying fangirls. The ones debating on online forums about Team Edward vs. Team Jacob. The ones who will argue that Twilight is the best book ever written.
The ones who camp out at Twilight movie premieres 1 month before Call me crazy, but Twilight wasn't that bad. The ones who camp out at Twilight movie premieres 1 month before opening day.
The ones who post YouTube videos of themselves sobbing their heart out when Rpattz and Kstew broke up irl. I hate the fans. I desperately hate the rabid fangirlzzz. There aren't enough words to describe my loathing of Twitards. The book itself wasn't that bad. I've read far worse before. I will read far worse in the future.
I've read books that I wish were paper so that I could fling it across the room during a fit of rage. I've read books with alpha-douches who have made me use curse words that have made a Navy sailor blush. I've read books where the love interest is as abusive asshole who would think nothing of commenting on his love interest's tits or weight.
And these books aren't even new adult. I've read books where the main character is a rampant fellow-girl hater and slut shamer. I've read books where the main character is so fucking dumb it makes my teeth hurts. I've read books where the main character seems to be doing her damnedest to remove herself from the human gene pool and it is only by the grace of deus ex fucking machina that she is saved.
I've read books whose plot makes Game of Thrones seem simple, and not in the "Wow, that's really complex" kind of way as it is "What the actual fuck were you smoking when you wrote this? So in that sense, Twilight is really not that bad. Sure, Bella is dumb and a Mary Sue, but the worst you can say about her is that she is completely colorless and bland, with the personality of a block of tofu.
The worst you can say about Edward is that he's a weirdo stalker who likes really young girls despite his age, but man, watching a girl while she sleeps? He's been out-creeped by far worse men. So really. I mean it. You may hate Twilight with my blessing, but please don't believe it's the worst example of YA literature out there.
Is isn't, by any stretch of the imagination. Jul 16, Jessica Edwards rated it it was amazing Shelves: Where do I start with this?
I don't know about you, but I was hyped when this book came out. Anything involving Vampires or Wolves I want to read it.
I read this again a couple of weeks ago and because I'm going to start reviewing more books even though I'm not very good at it I wanted to review this particular book more than any other book. Twilight, I love you. I love the series. And the films. I don't know if it's because of the story or what, but this whole series will fore Where do I start with this? I don't know if it's because of the story or what, but this whole series will forever have a place in my heart, it's just one of those series you have to read.
I could watch the films over and over again, even in the same day. A gripping story line with a love triangle between two completely different beings. Some days I wish I was Bella, because then I'd change who she bloody chooses! Jacob, Jacob, Jacob, oh how I adore you Bella can keep Edward for all I care, I want the wolf. Just once I'd like to see the second male lead get the girl.
View all 25 comments. Jun 07, Mary rated it did not like it Recommends it for: Twilight is lame and stupid. I think everyone knows that the characters are essentially the ones who make up the book. Bella, our first person, is about as interesting as a rock. Isabella is nothing more than a Mary Sue. Bella Swan?
Beautiful Swan? Not very clever. Practically everyone in her new school asks her to the dance, or to the prom. Most readers who like Twilight relate to Bella.
Besides, she is extremely boring, the sort which makes you fall asleep while she talks. I would have liked it if Meyer had given her a little backbone and some brain cells, so she can get out of the stupid situations she puts her stupid self in. Nobody who grew up in Phoenix would be an idiot enough to wander around empty streets of an unfamiliar city alone. Then again, her idiocy is necessary to give way to her savior, Edward Cullen. Edward is a vampire — oops! And that he has topaz eyes?
Insane mood swings, I tell you. He has this stalker-ish behavior, which is sick: Edward is something years old and lives with his vampire family. They only drink blood of animals. They are basically good vampires, and they also play baseball in the woods to pass the time. Stakes, garlic, sleeping in coffin although the idea of not sleeping ever was okay — even sunlight!
As for the reason… what is the reason again? Oh, because Bella smells good and Edward is hawt!!!. Seriously, though, the romance between them is forced and trite. I'm not even sure if there's romance at all. There is no development of feelings. Just… BAM! From there, everything becomes sheer selfishness, and for the nth time, stupidity. Not only is it absurd; it also gives horrible messages, namely: Ditch your friends.
More mature? Knowing he can kill Bella, he should have just left her alone. And how come Edward just blabbers everything to Bella? You know, the vampire stuff? For someone who has been in this world for more than a hundred years, he sure displays the maturity of a fetus. That could have worked, if only Bella had the wits to be actually scared. As for Edward, it would have been better if he had shown how dangerous he could be. I don't know, maybe good vampires can only talk about how dangerous they area instead of actually showing it.
Oh, how could I forget! Did you know that? The coolest thing ever? Meyer is so original! Who else could have thought that?! The plot is absolutely zero the romance between Bella and Edward is not a plot. They fall in love.
End of story. Why would the Cullens want to study in high school?! This is my number one question. Who wants to go through high school over and over again?? Why would they want to blend in with the rest of humanity?
Why would one bad vampire like to bite Bella specifically? She makes Dan Brown look like a Pulitzer Prize winner. Her words are stilted. The narration is unexciting, dragging, and redundant. If not that, she repetitively says how perfect and beautiful Edward is.
Bella glares all the time, too. Bella also grimaces a lot, and hisses, and stumbles. Glares, grimaces, hisses, stumbles. Meanwhile, Edward always smiles his crooked smile, and he dazzles people especially Bella. I remember one: In the next books, Meyer uses bigger words. The heroine should attend the prom with her vampire boyfriend. In that ruffled gown and stiletto heels… It just makes sense although it did take Bella about ten years to figure out Edward is taking her to the prom.
What an idiot. It reads like a bad fan fic. I won't stop you from reading it, though. That's a choice for you to make. View all 69 comments. May 28, V. I'm tired of people ripping this book to pieces and secretely devouring it. I don't believe you for a second that you didn't enjoy it if you happened to have ratings and long rants about the following books.
Accept it! Stephanie Meyer kept you reading her very long books! And you are only complaining about stalking tendencies because YOU know this is fiction. In real life that's creepy. Again in real life I don't want to date a stalker.
In a fictional realm some things are necessary to keep the woman a vampire loves alive and the readers turning the pages. Good luck with that!
Let's see how many agents push for your book. Now don't you like junk food? Do you really only eat select cuisine? Admit it! You put crazy stuff in your McDonalds french fries and then claim is the most delicious thing ever!
Not every meal has to be a delicattessen and not every read has to become the next War and peace. You just don't read the book. I like twilight and I'm proud I like twilight. Plenty of people wouldn't read or write if it hadn't been for twilight. The publishing industry would have lost money if girls like me hadn't started reading book like twilight. Millions of women around the world got to love twilight and they're not stupid, they just don't share your taste in books.
View all 93 comments. It's just disingenuous as fuck, that they had the gall to brazenly omit Stephenie Meyer from their credit lines, particularly when one or more of them started their careers in paranormal YA on the tail of the Twilight boom. YA existed before Twilight , of course, but it baffles me when the YA industry now slaps its hands to its ears and la-la-las over the indisputable truth: YA was a marginalised genre before the Twilight phenomenon.
Was it a coincidence that YA paranormal romance exploded upon the rising popularity of Twilight? Fuck Catcher in the Rye. I'm sorry, but I don't make the rules.
The basic breakdown is this: I enjoyed this book, and I mean I genuinely enjoyed it, and was invested, until about the halfway mark. After that, it was impossible for me to ignore the cloying creepiness that perverts a sweet and tender love story into something that, as an adult, is difficult for me to justify.
This inaccuracy stems mostly from the fact that the movies were a farce that in no way capture the spirit of the characters or any of the relationships between them. The truth is that Book Bella and Movie Bella are two starkly different people, and you can fucking fight me on this.
Meyer has weathered a barrage of criticism for her Mormon lifestyle , and this has bled into her storytelling, and to an extent I agree, because heavy-handed morality is an easy way to drop a story down a U-bend.
The artery of conflict that threads through each book in the series is opposing ideals within the central relationship, and if we look at these characters as theological models, their connection is far more nuanced: Edward is Mormonism and Bella is modernism, thus their relationship is a wrestle between starkly defined historical values and modern flexibility.
To explore this model, it's worth analysing each character as an individual, not both as a unit we'll get to that later. My impression of Bella is that she's confident in familiar situations and, contrary to common criticism, mostly generated from the appallingly weak and lifeless character in the movies, is not defined by low self-esteem. She never shrinks away from male attention, and while she does often acknowledge that Edward is aesthetically pleasing, her reaction to being seen with a "dazzling" and notorious man is a natural one: Bella mentions that she was not popular in Arizona, but for defined reasons: She also states that her last school was densely populated which, naturally, provides an ease of anonymity.
But her relationship with Charlie is tender: When people like Jacob and Angela are being sidelined by their friends - ignored during a group conversation - Bella notices this and acknowledges them. It's worth remembering that, in , a "ladylike front" was very much in fashion and not only in religious circles like Meyer's. This "touch my butt and download me pizza" attitude didn't come into fashion until Tumblr became mainstream, and until the internet popularised the Anna Kendrick brand.
You know, this "I'm a gross girl and I wear sweatpants and I like to swear". That mentality wasn't part of the media hive mind yet. In part, yes. He is geriatric, and this adds an element of unavoidable perversion to his romance with a teenage girl. Be careful, though. The child has no idea. He looked at me then, his anger abruptly fading. I also wonder if the major holes in various characters' biographies specifically Alice and Jasper, as well as Renesmee and Jacob were done in purpose to leave room for future books.
I already know that she won't answer certain questions about Nessie and Jacob in case she explores it later, but there was so much left out of Alice and Jasper's early lives that perhaps Stephenie envisions another story I doubt it though. I'll go over the good and bad points.
I am making an effort not to put any spoilers in my review e. If you're as picky about spoilers as I am, you might want to be careful.
Also, given the level of my emotional investment in Twilight, my criticisms will likely not be as diplomatic as I normally try to make them. The Good 1. Vampires Generally: I learned almost everything I wanted to know about the physical qualities of vampires. I already knew much of the information, but there was just enough new to keep me happy.
Alice's Human Life: Brava, Stephenie! You told me everything I wanted to know and so much more. Alice's human life was fascinating from beginning to end, although not in a good way.
In some ways, it's better that Alice doesn't remember any of it. One of the highlights of the Guide. Edward's Life: Not entirely complete, but I loved learning more about Edward's relationship with his parents, particularly his father. I already knew that his father was an attorney and they were fairly wealthy, but I loved filling in the gaps in Edward's story.
Noble, even. That ought to count for something. I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision.
When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end. The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt — sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.
In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen.
That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead. It was to Forks that I now exiled myself— an action that I took with great horror. I detested Forks. I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city.
I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still… "I want to go," I lied.
I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now. I love you, Mom. It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about. Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing.
He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car. But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless.
I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision — like my mother before me, I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks. When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen — just unavoidable.
I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun. Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind downloading a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.
Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane. It's good to see you, too, Dad. I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser. That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory.
I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic…" "Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore. As a homecoming gift. I was going to download myself a car. I want you to be happy here. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So I was looking straight ahead as I responded.
I really appreciate it. He didn't need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth — or engine. We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for Conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.
It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.
It was too green — an alien planet. Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage.
Those were the only kind of days their marriage had — the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new — well, new to me — truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it.
Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged — the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser. It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs.
I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had been belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window — these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack.
This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner. There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact. One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover.
He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother.
It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to think about the coming morning. Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven — now fifty-eight — students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home.
All of the kids here had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak. Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond — a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps — all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.
Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself — and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close. When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel.
I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty — it was very clear, almost translucent-looking — but it all depended on color. I had no color here. Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here?
I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs.
Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning. I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too.
But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle. Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me.
You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage. Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor.
Nothing was changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures.
First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three 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 do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom.
It made me uncomfortable. I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket — which had the feel of a biohazard suit — and headed out into the rain. It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving.
I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood. Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy 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 that I hadn't expected.
Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution?
I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors? I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office.
No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot.
I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door. Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly.
Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. 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. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.
The red-haired woman looked up. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for.
She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could. When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive.
I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot.
The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me. I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day.
I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.
I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief. Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner.
I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door. The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them.
They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here. I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. He gawked at me when he saw my name — not an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed.
I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.
When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. I had to check in my bag. I smiled tentatively. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop.
I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.
We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked. I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.
The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat.
After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.
One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights.
I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up. We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me.
I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room. It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them. They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them.
They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention. They didn't look anything alike.
Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room.
Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features.
Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. And yet, they were all exactly alike.
Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose.
Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. But all this is not why I couldn't look away. I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.
They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten apple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway.
I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible.
My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging.
As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing, probably, from my tone — suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps.
He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine. He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest — it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.
My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife. I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers.
His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them. Strange, unpopular names, I thought.
The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here — small town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name.
There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home. And they live together. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted.
The Hales are brother and sister, twins — the blondes — and they're foster children. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness. Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.
Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.
As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.
I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him.
I wondered when he'd turned her down. I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too. After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together.
They all were noticeably graceful — even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn't look at me again.
I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too.
When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat.
As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat.
He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face — it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled. I'd noticed that his eyes were black — coal black. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions.
I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me. I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye.
He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor.
I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher.