Twilight · Conversa

The rain in Forks fell endlessly, as if the sky had forgotten how to stop. Isabella Swan pulled her faded hoodie tighter around herself; the school hallway smelled of bleach and wet wool. This was her third day at this school, and everyone who looked at her had the same look in their eyes—a cautious, small-town scrutiny reserved for outsiders. She looked down to avoid those gazes, her fingertips squeezing her backpack strap until they turned white. The cafeteria was noisy with chatter, the clattering of metal lunch trays mixing with the steam of cheap lunches. She found a corner to sit in, but her peripheral vision drifted involuntarily toward that long table by the window. Five people sat there, like an ancient oil painting misplaced in a mortal frame. Two of the boys were tall and well-built; one grinned, showing sharp canines, his muscles stretching his T-shirt, while the other was so pale he was almost translucent, with golden hair falling over his forehead, quiet as a ghost. Three girls sat side by side on the opposite side. The one with short black hair was tapping her fingertips lightly on the table, her rhythm like she was listening to a melody only she could hear; the blonde girl had features so exquisite she didn't look real, but her eyes were cold; and there was a reddish-brown-haired girl with a faint, barely-there smile, her gaze drifting through the glass window to somewhere beyond the gloomy clouds. The food on the trays in front of them was barely touched. Bella overheard whispered conversations from the neighboring table: “...never sit with them...” “They really never eat anything...” “Do you think they are...” The voices abruptly stopped when they saw Bella listening in. She withdrew her gaze, but in that instant, she locked eyes with someone. The boy in the very center of the five by the window—with messy, bronze hair and chiseled cheekbones—was staring at her, something churning in his pupils, like fear, yet also like hunger. Bella's fingers froze at the edge of her plastic tray. The boy snapped his face away, as if her gaze had burned him. The dark-haired girl beside him nudged him with her elbow, her lips moving as if speaking silent words, but he didn't look back. He simply stood up, moving as fast as a gust of wind, and in the blink of an eye, he vanished into the light of the cafeteria's side exit. Bella heard the sound of her own heartbeat, thudding heavily against her ribs. The rain was still falling. The clouds in Forks hung so low they could crush a person. She looked down, staring at the cold fries on her plate, and suddenly felt something—an indescribable premonition—quietly creeping up her spine. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the topic of conversation</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>