My Multiverse Trip

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 inst.i.tution? 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 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 gla.s.ses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I"m Ryan Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awarenesslight her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Son of the Chief"s flighty ex-wife, come home at last.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of doc.u.ments on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show roe.

She went through my cla.s.ses 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 thinking about crazy new adventures.

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, memorizing it; so i wouldnt get lost I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I pumped myself up for the new school day. No one was going to bite me I hoped cause if I get eaten the first day that"s just bad luck. 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 largeblack "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually calmed as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unis.e.x raincoats through the door. The cla.s.sroom 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. I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name - not an encouraging response But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the cla.s.s. It was harder for my new cla.s.smates 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. 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.

"You"re Ryan Swan, aren"t you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type. I wonder if he would like wizards chess I haven"t played with anyone for a while. "Where"s your next cla.s.s?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

"I"m headed toward building four, I could show you the way..." Definitely over-helpful. "I"m Eric," he added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn"t getting paranoid.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very."

"It doesn"t rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him. The f.u.c.k is this 20 questions? He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. 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.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we"ll have some other cla.s.ses together." He sounded hopeful.

I smiled at him vaguely and went inside. internally I was saying "I"m straight even if I am handsome no boys allowed."

The rest of the morning pa.s.sed 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 cla.s.s and introduce myself. Seriously f.u.c.k math.After two cla.s.ses, I started to recognize several of the faces in each cla.s.s. 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 six feet three 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 cla.s.ses. I didn"t try to keep up. Fangirls already I"m on a roll.