Waiting for the world to change

[Estellise Vivienne]

Her last year of hell. Oh, goody.

A stray strand of auburn hair caught her attention briefly while her hand instinctively raised to tuck it behind her ear. Having moved to Forks just a year ago, Estellise still found it difficult to adjust. Then again it was one small town to another, so it shouldn't be that hard. Right? Wrong.

Washington, Illinois was nothing like Forks, Washington. If she had known her mother was moving her during her junior year of high school she would have done everything in her power. But her father had been transferred to Port Angeles and Forks was the best place to live. Perhaps it would turn out to get a good thing in the long run. Too bad optimism seemed to enjoy biting her in the rear if she got her hopes up too high.

Closing her locker, Estellise glanced down at her schedule once more. Art - she could do that. Nothing too hard about working with paints. After that maybe she could go try out for one of the sports clubs. That was something she wanted to involve herself in if for no other reason then maintaining her body. A healthy mind and form made for a healthy spirit.

With resignation in her steps, the teenager stepped into her art class. Who knows? Something interesting could always happen.

[Pierre Yvets]

He needed a joint; everything from the twitching of his fingers to the tapping of his foot proved it. Heck- even his face looked drained. It had been exactly eighteen hours and twenty four minutes since he had boarded the plane from Quebec, Ontario to Forks Washington, arrived in his new apartment, barely getting enough time for a washroom break, before grabbing a toast and rushing to school. And the good thing was, he wasn't late. Nope, not at all. In fact, he was early. So early, that if not for the constant tapping of his foot, the art teacher would have been quite pleased. Pierre didn't know why he was forced to go to school when he had just moved but he had already promised Sean that he'd conduct himself and be sober.

But with no alcohol or cigarette over the passed hours- even he himself was starting to doubt his decision. I mean, what if he didn't change? What if drugs got to him again- well technically he hadn't really gotten over drugs yet, let alone even try to change. But nonetheless; the thought made Pierre shiver. Disappointment. That would be all. He would disappoint his father and probably be sent to do some council crap or whatever dweebs did when they couldn't control themselves and abused alcohol. So perhaps going to school on the day you moved in was worth it? Who was he kidding? Of course it wasn't worth it. It had only been three days since the incident with the party crashing and being arrested- a seventeen year old kid like himself would still be scared to death.

I mean, yeah, he didn't really show it but the constant fidgeting of his body certain showed the world that he was some kind of freak. Although he didn't look like one. This made Pierre wrinkle his nose. Of course he didn't look like a freak. He was the perfect jock even though he wasn't a major fan of sports. Stand 6'2 inches tall, broad and muscular, dirty blond hair- grey eyes, it'd make any girl flaw over him. So no, he didn't look like a freak. But perhaps acted like one. Pierre sighed, his eyes staring adamantly at the blank piece of paper in front of him. What were they doing? The teacher had explained it to him before...To the hell with it. Who cares? Art wasn't important anyway. At least, not in the school he went to in Quebec. Nope. It was all Math, Science, French, English- the usual core stuff.

The sophomore didn't think anybody mentioned art, let alone taught it in Saint Jean-Michelle's private school for the elite. People and teachers were all obsessed in making each other push their grades up. Either that or there were junkies like him. Well, he wasn't really a junkie junkie. Just...part junkie? He still kept his grades up, perhaps not the top top students, but he was still above average. But then again, he was from an elite school. He was tutored and forced to do drills- it should be easy for him, right?

Pierre drew a deep breath, his opaque grey eyes flickering up to look at the students of Forks High school flooding in. He hoped he wasn't sitting in anyone's seat. But then again, who cared? He looked tough anyway, nobody would want to mess with a 6'2 guy, right? Unless the person was taller than him but from simple deduction, small towns like Forks, Washington, didn't really produce tall guys. At least, he hoped. A aggrieved sigh escaped his lips and Pierre bit his lips from trembling. He needed to smoke. Right now.