I pulled into the parking lot near the front office. The lot was only half full. I parked near the entrance, close to the main walkway—clean view of the building, just enough space on either side.
I adjusted the rearview mirror.
Gray hair, slightly damp, pushed back without much care. A few strands had fallen loose again. My eyes looked the same—dark, tired. Like something behind them had burned out long ago.
I didn't look like much. Not to most people, anyway.
Black leather jacket. White T-shirt. Black jeans. Sneakers. Simple. Sharp. Just enough edge to stand out without standing apart. I didn't dress to impress—just to control the impression I gave.
I looked like any other teenager. That was the goal.
Alaric Callahan, according to the paperwork. The name felt strange, like wearing someone else's coat. But it kept the wrong people from noticing. Van Halden still meant something to the monsters that mattered.
I opened the door and stepped into the cold morning air. The rain was light—barely a mist—but it clung to my sleeves as I moved around to the passenger side. I grabbed my camera and slung it across my shoulder like I'd done it a hundred times.
It wasn't for show. But it was part of the mask.
A red Chevy truck pulled into the space beside me. Loud, old, running more on willpower than fuel. The driver stepped out—a girl, pale with long brown hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She moved like someone trying not to be noticed but unable to help noticing everything. Her eyes flicked toward me, then away. Quick. Careful.
I gave a small nod.
She hesitated, then returned it with a faint smile.
"You're new too?"
"Yeah."
"Good to know I'm not the only one." She pulled her hood up, shut the truck door with a heavy thud, and glanced toward the building.
We walked in silence—close, but not together.
"Bella," she said quietly.
"Alaric."
She nodded. That seemed to be enough.
By the time we reached the entrance, the quiet between us felt… natural. Not awkward. Just quiet.
I held the door open for her.
"Thanks," she said, stepping inside.
We approached the front counter where a red-haired woman in large glasses was typing on a computer. She looked up as we approached.
"Can I help you?"
"I'm Alaric Callahan," I said.
"I'm Isabella Swan," Bella added.
I looked at her, recognition flickering. Charlie Swan had talked about her a few times when we met—usually when I was "photographing" the town or grabbing lunch with him. Being on friendly terms with the local police chief had its uses.
The woman nodded at my name, but her expression lit up a little at Bella's. "Of course," she said, rifling through a stack of papers. "Here's your class schedule. And a map of the school. You'll be fine—School isn't that big."
She handed us the papers. We walked out of the office together, searching for our first class.
"You're Charlie's daughter," I said, testing the waters.
She glanced at me. "You know him?"
"Yeah. He helped me when I first got here. Helped me get settled, showed me around."
"He mentions you a few times ." I added. "Said that his daughter is coming to forks from Phoenix"
Bella gave a faint smile but didn't say anything at first. Her hands tugged at the sleeves of her jacket as we walked past a row of lockers. I didn't press.
"Phoenix must be a long way from here," I said after a beat.
She gave a small shrug. "Yeah. It's… warmer."
I nodded slightly. "The cold doesn't go away here. Rain either."
"Tell me about it," she muttered, shifting her schedule between her hands. "It's weird being here. Like starting over from scratch."
I could understand that.
We paused at a hallway intersection, checking the map. "This way," I said, pointing down the corridor.
As we walked, she glanced over at me. "So… photographer, huh?"
I gave a small nod. "Yeah. Keeps me busy."
She raised an eyebrow. "Like, for work?"
"Freelance," I said. "Nature, old buildings… whatever catches."
She nodded slowly. "Makes sense. You have that quiet, artsy look."
I didn't answer that.
We passed a group of students clustered near a vending machine. They looked at us—more at Bella—but didn't say anything. She seemed to shrink just a little under the attention. I kept walking.
"So you're not from around here either?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No. I moved here about six months ago."
"That's… a long time to wait before starting school."
"It was easier to keep to myself," I said, not offering more than that.
She didn't ask. I appreciated that.
We reached the door just as the bell rang.
Bella flinched slightly. "That's not a great start."
I pushed the door open. A middle-aged man in a lab coat was standing at the front of the room, setting down a folder. He glanced up as we entered.
"You must be the new students," he said.
"Yes, sir," I replied, handing him the paper from the front office. Bella did the same beside me.
He signed both slips with a quick stroke of the pen and pointed us to the only available table—two open seats towards the middle, just ahead of the back row.
As we settled into the two open seats towards the middle, just ahead of the back row, that familiar pressure hit—low and sharp behind my eyes. My skin prickled. That cold, off-scent drifted into the air, subtle but impossible to miss.
Vampire.
I didn't need to turn. The presence was close. Directly behind us.
I kept my eyes forward—but I watched him from the corner of my vision. A student. Pale. Still. Too still. His jaw clenched, and his shoulders stiffened like someone holding his breath a second too long. His eyes were locked on Bella—tight, unreadable—but not curious. Not interested.
Pained.
Like something about her hit a nerve he wasn't ready for.
The teacher started writing on the board, voice fading behind the low hum in my ears. Bella hadn't noticed. She was quietly unfolding her schedule beside me, completely unaware.
But I knew what I felt. And I saw what he did.
It wasn't just the usual vampire awareness. This was different.
His gaze wasn't casual or detached. It was focused—intense in a way that made the air between us tighten. Like Bella wasn't just another target or stranger to him. She was something… else. Something that stirred something inside him he wasn't ready to face.
That reaction wasn't common. Not for vampires.
I could feel it—an unspoken tension pulsing beneath the surface. A flicker of something raw, maybe guilt, maybe something older.
He wasn't just a vampire. He was reacting to her.
I didn't know why.
But whatever it was—it was strong enough to shake him.
The feeling didn't fade. It lingered, heavy in the air, coiled behind my ribs like a second heartbeat. I stayed still, pretending to focus on the board, but I could sense the tension sharpening behind us. The kind that made you instinctively look over your shoulder—even if you didn't know why.
Then I caught Bella shifting beside me.
After a minute or two, she leaned slightly toward me, whispering, "Is that guy… staring at me?"
I didn't look back. "Yeah. The entire time," I said, keeping my voice flat, like it didn't bother me. Like I hadn't already felt the same crawling tension the moment we walked in.
The goosebumps. The pressure behind my eyes.
It was the exact feeling I had back on Main Street—when I passed through that thick crowd and the air changed. I didn't see anyone that day, but I knew. The presence of a vampire.
And now it was behind me.
The tension lingered for the rest of the period.
When the bell rang, he was out of the room before anyone else even stood up.
Bella watched him go, brows drawn slightly. "That was weird…"
I said nothing. I just watched the door he disappeared through.