Chapter 4: Fluffernutter Sandwiches and Resentment

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By the time I find my way to my first period class, I'm nearly soaked to the skin. Though it isn't pouring outside, the fine mist of rain has managed to stick to every wrinkle of exposed fabric it could reach. I try to discreetly pull my pants away from my legs as I walk into building C. I scan the room and find it blissfully empty except for a few kids scattered throughout the room, either reading books or taking sips from well worn travel mugs. 

I spot a neat row of coats hung next to the door and I walk forward, ready to shed my dripping jacket. I take my backpack off and shrug out of my coat, hanging the damp parka next to the other steadily drying raincoats. I make a mental note to ask Charlie if he has anything more waterproof at home before dropping my keys in the front pocket of my bag and heading toward the back desks. I catch a glimpse of the teacher writing at the board but he just gives me a nod and continues working on whatever chart he's illustrating in blue marker. I take the seat in the back corner and sigh in relief, glad to not be stood in front of the class and made to introduce myself.

I settle into my desk and realize I'm thirty minutes early, if the yellowing analogue clock hanging over the door is right. I sigh and lean down to find whatever paperback I have stuffed in my backpack. I always keep a book on me just in case I have an extra minute in between classes or if one of mom's hair appointments takes a particularly long time. I fish my copy of Wuthering Heights and a notebook out of the main pocket of my bag and look up to find a pair of brown eyes staring at me from the next desk over. The boy beside me somehow managed to find a way to teleport from across the room in the last five seconds and I'm both impressed and confused about how he was able to move so silently, given the mass of keychains on his messenger bag.

"Hey," he says with a wave, flashing me a toothy smile that reveals a full set of braces bracketed in orange bands

"Hi," I reply, glancing up at him and taking in his his acne scarred cheeks and bushy black brows that are nearly identical to mine

I silently hope that he'll see the book in my hand and take the message but he presses on, leaning back in his squeaky desk chair.

"I'm Eric," he says, his hand shooting out from the sleeve of his oversized black hoodie to land right over my desk

I give it a quick shake and put down my book. So much for losing myself in the train wreck that is Heathcliff's self inflicted agony before class.

"Bella," I say, sticking both of my hands back in the front pocket of my sweatshirt.

I lean back in my seat and catch myself bouncing my leg as Eric's eyebrows shoot up. Mom hates it when I fidget, says it makes me look like I'm up to something and I wish I was right about now. I'm not the greatest with small talk and I'm even worse with people I don't know. Thankfully, it seems everyone has the same questions for me to answer today.

"You're Charlie's kid, right?" Eric blurts out, leaning forward

"Yeah," I say with a laugh "how'd you know? I'm guessing it isn't the family resemblance."

"Oh! Well," Eric starts, a nervous smile spreading across his face "I actually overheard you telling the teacher your last name and my dad was saying that Charlie's daughter was starting school here this week so I figured it was you."

I just nod as he continues, the keychains on his bag rattling as he shifts in his seat.

"I'm glad I got to meet you, though. I'm surprised actually! I didn't realize you were gonna be uh..."

"I'm adopted," I say with a shrug "from China."

"I was gonna say cool!" Eric says, "but good to know."

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Huh. I've been called plenty of things in my life but cool definitely isn't the first thing that comes to mind.

"Me?" I say with a laugh, looking down at my dog eared paperback and then back up at Eric "I wouldn't say that, but thanks."

"No, really!" He says "at the very least, you have good taste in video games"

He nods down at my backpack and I realize I've still got the little plush Gengar clipped to my front pocket. The keychain was a gift from Charlie, back when I'd spent most days of the summer holed up in my room, playing the Gameboy SP my mom had gotten me for Easter. I was gonna take it off and keep it in my room to save it from the rain but I guess I forgot between last minute packing and rushing to the airport.

"You like Pokemon?" I ask, trying to keep my tone casual

"Yeah!" Eric says flashing me a silvery grin "a little too much, honestly"

He shuffles his bag and I realize a majority of the charms are tiny plastic replicas of Pokemon, well loved Pikachus and Squirtels mixed in with newer characters I haven't seen yet.

"No such thing as too much Pokemon," I say, though I've definitely had my fair share of too much Pokemon moments when I was supposed to be studying for a test or "getting along with the other children", according to the 6th grade report card that got me video game grounded for a month

"See!" Eric says, "you're very cool."

"I mean, between the two of us, I think you're the cool one," I say "you have more keychains so I think that makes you the Pokemon master by default."

"If you say so," he says, setting his bag on the floor "seriously though, I'm glad we're in the same class, even if it is math."

A look of disgust passes between us as the last of the other kids start taking their seats around us.

"At least we can suffer together," I say with a shrug, mentally preparing for whatever new form of torture the teacher has for us today

"True. Well, hopefully we have some other classes together but if not, you can always come sit with me and my friends at lunch," Eric says, his voice dropping into a whisper as the teacher starts explaining the triangle he's drawn on the board.

I nod, giving him an appreciative smile before cracking Wurthering Heights open in my lap and finding the paragraph where I'd left off.

Lunch at Forks High is a crowded event, complete with bland cafeteria food and flocks of people gathered around low, sticky tables. I usually avoid the lunchroom, preferring to sit by myself and read in the library until the period is over but I feel obligated to at least make an appearance and say hello to Eric so I have something good to report to Charlie over sloppy joes at dinner tonight. At the very least, I'll get in a few "Hi, how are you" 's before escaping to the library building to reread my book in peace. I scan the cafeteria and finally find Eric waving at me wildly from a table in the middle of the room. A few of the people sitting around him turn to watch me as I dodged around chairs and tired looking students.

"What's up?" Eric greets, moving his bag from the seat next to him and offering the chair to me with a pat of the thin plastic cushion

I say a quick "Thanks" as I walk around the table and settle in, dropping my backpack onto the ground by my feet. I look up and find a few people giving me interested looks or inviting smiles. One boy at the end of the table is openly staring as if trying to work something out in his head. I keep my face neutral and lean down as I hear Eric start an introduction.

"So everyone," he says, sounding a lot like a newscaster introducing a particularly harrowing story "this is Bella."

He motions to me dramatically and I wave with one hand, pulling my lunch bag out of my backpack with the other.

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