I sorry for the delay in posting, our first Grandchild Rosie was born a little early and took us all by surprise.

Note: I know the University of Chicago doesn't have a Nursing Program but for the sake of the story, it does."

This chapter is narrated by Bella

Chapter 2

In the Beginning

Bella

The bane of my life was called Port Townsend High School. It was torture. It was small, but I hated it there. I had been bullied relentlessly throughout my high school life. I never wore the latest fashion, and I hated makeup. I didn't think it was necessary, especially to wear to school every day. With me what you see is what you get, that's probably why I wasn't popular.

My hair was long, almost to my waist, dark brown with a tint of red. Yes, I am a true brunette and not from a bottle like the 'popular' girls. It appears for once in my life, I was in fashion, or at least my hair was. But they seemed to have a problem with this. Gran said it was because they were jealous of my natural beauty.

Keep telling yourself that, Gran.

But, the popular girls put gum in my hair, hoping I would have to have it cut, short. Usually Gran managed to get enough gum out that I only have to have a few strands cut. The truth is, I wear my hair long so I could hide behind it, so people wouldn't know if I were to cry or not when I was being bullied.

Although I do have some of my hair cut once a year to donate it to Locks of Love, so at least the cutting didn't go to waste.

I have nice eyes, the color of chocolate, but have worn glasses as long as I can remember. Which, of course, gave them something else to bully me for. Along with my uneven lips. There wasn't anything about me they didn't bully me about. The truth was they just didn't like me.

You would regularly find me sitting outside the nurse's office. She was either having to patch me up after I had been pushed over by someone or fell due to my clumsiness. I often waited for my Gran to collect me to take me to the hospital after a fall, or to sort my hair from the gum. Walking down the corridor between classes became a nightmare; my books spent more time on the floor than in my hand. I was regularly pushed from behind or tripped, usually by someone's foot, especially while I was trying to take my seat in class. I always had a table to myself, unless someone wanted to cheat on a test. Then, I would have an eager desk buddy; just for the lesson, of course.

Gym class was a nightmare and not just because of my coordination issue. I was never picked for a team by anyone; they would much rather be a man down than deal with me. Before and after class, I always tried to get in the locker room and change before anyone else, but I was seldom successful. I often found my books and clothes missing after the lesson. They would be found by the janitor and left in the school office for me to collect. I had to borrow a gym uniform so often that it might as well have been my own. I hated the clothes because they smelled like a dog had died in them, even though Gran always washed the outfit before I returned it. I began leaving a set of clothes in my locker, just in case. I preferred to wear my own clothes.

I spent all my free lessons and lunch break in the library; it was the only place no one bothered me. I even ate my lunch in there, so I could eat it and not end up wearing it.

I took all the advanced placement classes: Biology, Chemistry, Calculus and English Literature. Yes, I'm a geek, but it really didn't bother me at all.

I drove my grandpa's old 1963 Chevy. It got me from point A to point B. I drove it everywhere, taking Gran to do her weekly shopping, doctor appointments, and church. I also drove to school and work. I worked part-time in the local library. I loved it there, especially Saturday story time. I loved the faces of the children as they listened to the story.

I was paid by the parents to tutor other students from my school. They were only nice to me as long as the lesson lasted. I gave guitar lessons to the younger children, too. I needed the money to buy things Gran couldn't afford.

When graduation came, I was Valedictorian. My Grandparents and Uncle Charlie were so proud of me. I had worked so hard throughout my school career. I worked for weeks on my speech. I was so nervous on the day to the extent I was almost sick. But I should have known that the nerves were for nothing. While I was trying to deliver the speech, everyone, including some of the parents, spoke all the way through. I gave up and sat down half way through. The principle and a few teachers looked concerned when they saw I had tears running down my cheeks.

For some reason, the other students even had a problem with me being an orphan. My parents were killed in a car crash when I was three years old. At least, that is what I was told. I have never shared this with anyone before, but I asked my grandparents about it when I was sixteen…

"Gran, what were my parents like?" I asked, curious.

"I'm not going to lie to you anymore, my sweet little Bella. You're old enough to know the truth. Your mother left you in the hospital when you were hours old. She never wanted to be a mother; she was only your age when she got pregnant." Grandpa sighed.

"Was she your daughter? What is her name?" I said, as my bottom lip quivered.

"No, she wasn't our daughter, but your dad was our son. Her name is Renee Higginbotham. She was new in town, a pretty young girl. But, she knew she was pretty, and she flirted with all the boys. She decided, out of all the boys, it was your dad she wanted. She followed him around like a lost sheep. She was a year younger than your dad. He was a jock, on the track team, football team. A popular kid," Gran told me, as she stroked my hair.

"Has she ever tried to contact me? Send me cards, presents anything?" I asked, almost whispering.

"Don't worry about her anymore, Bella. Your Gran and I love you so much, you honestly don't need her in your life," Grandpa said as he hugged me.

"What about my dad? What was he like? What was he called?" I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I buried my face into Grandpa's shoulder.

"Let's not talk about this anymore today, little one," Grandpa said as he continued to hug me.

And we didn't.

But according to the town people, I was still the orphan girl who was brought up by my grandparents. I wasn't going to say anything different. I wasn't going to give them anything else to bully me about. Can you imagine what they would do to me if they knew my own mother didn't want me? I would much rather be the orphan kid.

I never told my grandparents that the kids in school teased me constantly, saying I was abandoned on the steps of the fire station. Their comments hurt, and I knew it would hurt my grandparents if they had heard. After all, my dad was their son.

I was glad when I left that school. I was looking forward to the next stage in my life.

Luckily, I managed to be awarded a scholarship to attend the University of Chicago. My whole life, I wanted to be a nurse. So gaining a place was like a dream come true. Working at the library would be my second career choice for me. I love kids and wanted a houseful one day. I decided when I graduated with my nursing degree, I wanted to be a pediatric nurse.

I felt guilty leaving my Gran at home in Washington because my grandpa died just after graduation. He'd left me a small amount of money along with his beloved Chevy in his will. I had decided to stay at home with Gran, but she and Uncle Charlie told me I had to go to Chicago; they said they didn't want for me to regret not going. They argued with me for weeks. I finally agreed to give it a year.

One of their arguments for going was I needed to get away from this small town, spread my wings, and meet new people who would appreciate what a wonderful, beautiful person I was.

So, with high school behind me, I was heading to Chicago. Gran was upset she couldn't come with me, Uncle Charlie couldn't get the time off work to drive me, so I took the two- day journey on the bus. I didn't mind going on my own. I would be fine with my copy of Wuthering Heights.

I managed to pack all my clothes into one suitcase and carry my guitar. I traveled light for a girl. I planned on buying my bedding, pots and pans from a thrift store when I got to Chicago. I was buying my books secondhand, and had secured a part-time job at the library on campus, which I was starting the third week into the semester.

I met my new roommate, and I instantly felt inferior to her. Her name was Rosalie Hale. She was from Rochester, New York, and was beautiful. She was five-nine with blonde hair, beautiful violet eyes, curves in all the right places and a beautiful smile. When I stood beside her, I felt so tiny. With my height of five-four and a slender body, I could be mistaken as her younger sister, and I had been once when we went to the coffee shop.

Rose's father was a banker, as was her grandfather. Her parents wanted her to major in business, but that wasn't what she wanted to do. She wanted to be a child psychologist. Instead of business, she took psychology as a major, also filling in with a course on counseling. Rose's father refused to fund her education, so she had paid her own way. She got a job at Spill the Beans the coffee shop across from the library to pay her way through school, using her trust fund to pay the shortfall. She came from old money. But once you got to know her, you wouldn't think she was.

Over the short time Rose and I had gotten to know each other, I discovered she was fiercely loyal. She would shout down anyone who dare bully me. I began to love her as a sister I'd always wanted, and she felt the same about me.

The library on campus was bigger than the one in Port Townsend. I was on my third day of training. Today I was being taught how to use the library stock program on the computer. I was sending notices out to those who had overdue books. After three hours of sitting in front of the computer, I decided to take a break. I stood to stretch my back, and looked across the room.

That's when I saw him, sitting in the corner of the library.

He was the most incredibly good looking man I had ever seen. I was fascinated by his messy bronze colored hair; I had never seen a person with that color hair before. I smiled as I watched him push his glasses up his nose as they seem to slip down. He appeared to be looking at me, but I knew he would never give someone like me a second look. After all, I'm a geek.

I sat back down at the computer and looked over the top, hoping he didn't see me staring at him. He probably had a girlfriend. He was too good looking not to have one. I wondered if he was gay; I never had "gaydar." I made the mistake one time before in thinking someone was gay when he wasn't. That was embarrassing.

I'd never had a boyfriend or even been kissed, yet I found myself sitting there daydreaming about the bronze-haired boy kissing me. I smiled at him as he passed my desk that day, giving him a little wave. He waved back as he passed, rubbing the back of his neck. He must have thought I was a freak. Why did I embarrassed myself? I thought as I hid my reddened face in my hands.

Yet I wondered if I would ever see my dream guy again. I wondered if he was a regular patron. He would probably find a new place to study. After all, who wanted to be stared at by some geeky, clumsy girl the whole time they were here trying to study?

A couple of weeks later, I got my answer.

Thank you to my beta Tiffany L Cullen, and my pre-readers Denise and Karriek.

Next time we will hear from Edward.