Cliche

In the morning, with the sunlight peeking out the window, it took Nell a few seconds to figure out where she was. Blinking at the telephone clock thought: «I still have time...»

She dropped back on her pillow, determined to enjoy a little more of her sleep..., but Steve stormed into her room.

—Get up. You're late for school. —he ordered.

—It´s still early. —refuted her.

—I have to use the car. So you will have to walk.

Incredulous, she rose clumsily from the ground, ready to face it.

—But it is about four kilometers!.

—I'm pretty sure you walked more in Pennsylvania.

Nell raised her chin.

—That is different.

Steve approached her and handed her the bag she had forgotten in the car.

—Hurry up and get dressed. —Then, he went off.

Sulking, she sighed. It was not going to come up for discussion at that time of morning. So twenty minutes later, after showering, changing, and adjusting his gloves, she walked out the door.

One of the things that surprised her most when arrived at Forks, was the endless source of water that fell from the sky. If she were a Greek philosopher, she would say something like «Heaven mourns the loss of a loved one». Or, in case of the storms, that «The Gods were enraged». But that day, oddly enough, it did not flood, nor did it thunder. It only flew.

The second, was the school. It didn't look like one. It looked more like a set of holiday exchange houses with ample parking full of curious looks. She tried not to notice any and walked hastily with her eyes fixed on the front door. When she finally opened it, she let out the air that didn't even remember holding.

The interior was bright compared to the exterior. The office was small, and there were artificial plants everywhere in plastic pots. Eleanor approached the counter and the woman on the other side was already approaching her position with a smile.

—Can I help you?

—Huh, yes. I'm Eleanor Blake. The new student. —informed her, and immediately noticed in her eyes a glimmer of recognition. They were waiting for her. It had undoubtedly been the center of gossip. The sister of the famous horror writer Steven Blake. It sounded like a cliché. But there's a reason why clichés exist. It's because they're true. And their life was also a cliché.

—Of course—the woman said. Searched through the precariously stacked documents until he found the ones he was looking for. —Right here I have the schedule of your classes and a plan of the school. And... Can I ask you a favor?— spoke almost in whispers as he looked everywhere.

Eleanor frowned. That question did not warn anything good

—What is it?

—An autograph, from your brother, you know. —said something excited—I read his book and I think it's amazing. I've never read anything so scary and so...

Nell stop listening. In her head she could only hear a sharp, incessant noise that all she wanted was to escape. She pressed her lips tightly.

—I'm sorry— interrupted— I'm afraid he's going to have to ask himself in person.— took the map and class schedules—with your permission.

Then she ran out into the hallway.

As the students arrived and prepared to go to classes, Nell tried to understand the structure of the building without success. The only thing she understood was that her first subject was Literature, and it was taught in the third classroom.

—Do you need help?

The voice that had called her, gave her a breath of death. She didn't even finish turning around who immediately noticed the supernatural beauty of that girl. Her hair was short, pixie-style; her eyes were golden and bright; the skin was white as snow. Looked like an angel or an otherworldly being. Somewhat puzzled, Nell babbled:

—Oh... sure. Do you know where room 3 is?

The girl laughed and came a little closer. Nell noticed that she was accompanied by another boy with almost the same characteristics as her. Although this one seemed to be under a spell of suffering.

—It's passing the luch place. I'm sure you won't get lost.

Nell smiled at her.

—Thank you...

—I'm Alice. —she showed up smiling. Then pointed to the boy—And he's Jasper.

—I am...

—Eleanor Blake.

Eleanor made a grimace.

—Just Nell.

Her laughter was musical and ephemeral.

—I like it.— Then the strident sound of the bell was heard —Well, we must go. Have a nice day.

She nodded.

—You too.

Nell was about to turn when she heard her voice again.

—Let's hope you like Forks. 

Eleanor returned the most convincing smile possible. Yeah, she also expected it.

It didn't hurt to say she was late for her first day of school. Her first day. And Professor Mason, though he seemed the most unfriendly of all, was considered for that day. He stared at her surprised to read her name, but did not dedicate any word of fanaticism to her, and she, of course, wished that he sent her to the empty desk she saw in the background. Surprisingly, her wish was fulfilled. Perhaps because it was too late to interrupt the class. So Nell slowly walked to the back of the room and sat down. She noticed signs of looks from all sides. Wanting to flip from time to time just to look at it and then gossip with the one next to it.

She tried to concentrate on the teacher's list on the blackboard. They were basic books; books she had already read. So that year would be boring. At least for that subject.

By the time lunchtime arrived, Nell had already noticed a couple of familiar faces: Erik, Jessica and Angela seemed to be caught up in what Mike was saying. Nell tried to find an empty table but they were all occupied. And while I was wasting time on my feet analyzing the space, a group of seven came in through the back door-at the other end of where she was-and they sat at a table that, by some chance, was emptied without her noticing.

They were nothing like any other student. She recognized Jasper and Alice, who she saw that morning. He had honey hair and was tall and thin; and Alice looked like a duet with his figure and his intense black hair. Next to her, a type of copper hair that seemed to talk willingly with Bella Swan; another girl with whom she shared some subject and who seemed to be the black sheep of the group.

Then there was a tall girl with a beautiful figure. The kind you see on the cover of a magazine. Her blond hair cascaded down to the middle of her back. And she was romantically embraced by a kind of pointed jaw, and dark hair.

Despite being different, they all looked alike. They were too pale, had golden eyes and shiners similar to the purple bruises. It was as if everyone suffered from insomnia or were recovering from a broken nose, although their noses, like the rest of their features, were straight, perfect, symmetrical.

She continued to look at them because their faces, so different and so similar at the same time, were of inhuman and devastating beauty. It was difficult to decide who was more beautiful.

—¡Hey Blake!— called Mike, causing many people to stare at her—Come, sit with us!— He beckoned her to go, patting the chair that was free.

«Idiot » Nell thought. She approached with the tray without any choice. Leaned on the table and sat down. Looked where she looked, there were curious eyes everywhere.

—Hello star—greeted Erik, smiling.

—Why do you call her that?—asked Angela beside her.

—Because she's the sister of the one who wrote "The Pennsylvania Monster". That makes her a star.

—But maybe she doesn't like to be called that. —admonished Angela.

Erik turned around.

—Do you mind if I call you Star?

Nell gestured, as if asking for forgiveness.

—Actually, yes. —The others laughed—I'm sorry.

—So, How would you like to be called?— asked Angela, kindly.

Eleanor lifted her shoulders with a half smile.

—Just Nell.

Jessica cleared her throat to draw attention and leaned her elbows on the table before asking:

—And tell us, Nell, where are you from?

—From Altoona, Pennsylvania.

—Wait—stopped Erik with emotion—Just like in your brother's book?— didn't let her answer—So it's true. What the book says is real history, right?

Nell suddenly felt so uncomfortable that she just wanted to escape the situation. She knew that book was cliché, but it was her cliché. An invasion of the privacy of every member of his family. One that should have just stayed in Pennsylvania and never left.

—Hum, I...

—Unbelievable...—whispered Erik running his hands through his hair.

—Enough, you're scaring her— said Mike. Then he looked at her.—Sorry, we're not used to having a superstar. If it bothers you, we promise not to bring it up anymore.

Nell nodded.

—Thank you...

But as soon as she said it, her sight went to the door again. From it came a boy, so strong and muscular that he looked like a weightlifter. Dark hair, short and curly. He carried the food tray with one hand and, in a fraction of a second, his eyes settled on Nell's. He did not look at her with interest like the rest of the students, but as an involuntary response. However, he did not take his eyes off him until he sat down with the rest of the pale group.

Jessica followed his gaze and laughed foolishly before speaking:

—They are Edward and Andrew Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. —named, one by one—And the girl who is speaking with Bella right now is Alice Cullen. They all live with Doctor Cullen and his wife. Except Bella, of course.

—They are... different.

Nell struggled to find a suitable term.

—¡Clearly!— Jessica agreed as she giggled again—and they were cute too. But they're together. I mean Andrew and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice. And they live together, which is weird.

Her voice echoed with all the shock and disapproval of a small people, but, to be honest, this reaffirmed Nell cliché theory. There was no way to escape them. No matter how bad or good they are. Life was cliché.

—Doctor Cullen is very young, he will be thirty and few—.continued Jessica out of nowhere—Everyone is adopted. The Hales, the blondes, are twin brothers, and the Cullens are his foster family.

One of them, the dark-haired strongman, looked up as she studied them and her eyes met again, this time with a manifest curiosity. She looked away as fast as she could.

—Who is the muscular boy? —asked. Still feeling his gaze on her.

—His name is Emmett Cullen. It's terrifying, isn't it?. The few who have dared to talk to him, he rejected them. As if they smelled—Jessica said with disdain, in a clear show of resentment. Nell wondered when he would have rejected her—. So my advice is don't waste your time with him.

Nell turned her face to see him again, but it was too late. The seven had left the table at the same time, moving away gracefully. And the one who answered Emmett's name never looked at her again.