CHAPTER THREE:

I got away with moping around the house for about a week before Charlize sat me down and bluntly told me she'd enrolled me in Forks High School.

Forks High School, the only high school in the town, had just three hundred and fifty-seven— now fifty-eight— students. Really, that wasn't that different to the number of students at Hogwarts, so I didn't have a problem with the size. What I did have a problem with was that pretty much all of the kids here had grown up together—their bloody grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new kid who was supposedly from the big city and had somehow picked up a slight British accent that I had no idea how I was going to explain. I'd be something to stare at and whisper about.

Maybe if I had been one of the cool kids, I could made it work for me. Come in all popular, homecoming king–style. But there was no hiding the fact that I was not that guy— not the football star, not the class president, not the bad boy on the motorcycle. I was the too-tall kid who was too quiet, too skinny and too pale, who didn't know anything about gaming or cars or baseball statistics or anything else muggles my age were supposed to be into.

Honestly, even if I wasn't a wizard, I didn't think I'd fare any better. I didn't relate well to people my age. Actually, I didn't relate well to people, period. Before Hogwarts, before Lyric, I used to wonder if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Like, maybe what I saw as green was what everyone else saw as red. Maybe I smelled vinegar when they smelled coconut. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.

Glitch in my brain or not, sappy as it sounded, when I met Lyric it had been like meeting someone who had that same glitch. He looked through the world with different eyes too, and we'd basically been inseparable since.

Lyric had been a one in a billion find, and I knew I had absolutely no hope in me that I'd ever find someone like him again– and certainly not at a muggle high school, especially one as small as Forks.

And if I was being perfectly honest, having Lyric as a best friend hadn't done much to improve my social skills seeing as he had none whatsoever. In particular, my tendency to be very blunt with people Gordy claims is a side-effect from being around Lyric, who says whatever thought comes to mind out loud, for so long.

"Do I really have to?" I asked Charlize, hoping that the whine in my voice wasn't as obvious to her as it had sounded to my ears.

"You're miserable," Charlize said, bluntly. "You won't talk to me about why I had to help you get out of Britain and I'm not going to push you about it, but staying in the house like you are isn't going to help. I spoke to the principal, she says you can start as soon as you'd like, and gave me a list of possible classes for you to enroll in."

She fished three crumpled yellow post-it notes from her pocket and handed them to me. I squinted at the small handwriting, which was almost as terrible as mine.

"You realize I did classes like Divination and Potions at Hogwarts, right?" I asked.

"I hoped there'd be some crossover," Charlize admitted. "Home Ec., for one. I thought it had to be sort of like Potions."

I looked at her doubtfully. "I... guess? After five years of Professor Snape– well, four years of her, and one year with Professor Slughorn, I am pretty good at following directions..." I looked down at the post-it with fresh eyes. "Okay, alright; English can't be too awful. I had to write a bunch of essays at Hogwarts. I can do math– it's closely related to Arithmancy, and I'm not too awful at that. PE I can do too– not much background knowledge needed... how many subjects am I going to need?"

"If we fake the right transcripts, then if you sit the exams for six subjects, you should technically be able to get your HSC." Charlize said, all casual like she wasn't talking about breaking the law at all. I was pretty impressed, and slightly inspired too.

"Okay– there has to be at least some similarities with History... what subjects does that then leave? Your handwriting is awful."

Charlize huffed slightly as she took back the post-it and squinted.

"With the other classes, well, you're stuck with either one of the science subjects, or religious studies."

"Urgh," I pulled a face and tried to think of what sounded the worst. "What's the easiest science?"

"I don't know about the easiest," Charlize said, sounding unfairly amused, "but there's some crossover between Biology and PE."

"Fine." I said, reluctant but accepting. "I guess I'll do Biology."

"That's six subjects, then." Charlize said, cheerfully. "I'll ring Norma and tell her you're starting tomorrow." I look up at my mother in alarm.

"Tomorrow?"

"It's a good thing I filled up the gas in your truck yesterday." She said, sounding smug.

I groaned and laid my face on the table in defeat.

-

I didn't sleep well that night and thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning. It brought back far too vivid memories of my second year, when Dementors were patrolling the school, and I could feel the misery creeping up on me.

Breakfast with Charlize was quiet. She wished me good luck at school and I thanked her, already knowing her hope was likely a waste of time. Good luck tended to avoid me. She left first, off to the police station, and I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and glared over at the row of pictures hanging above the small fireplace in the adjoining, microscopic family room. The first one was of Charlize, Reese and me in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up until I was eleven and started Hogwarts. It could be much worse— age thirteen up had been the braces years, as well as the acne that had finally cleared up, but they were still embarrassing and I'd never managed to convince Charlize to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living there.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I knew I'd just get more stressed sitting there so I put on my jacket—thick, non-breathing plastic, like a biohazard suit—and headed out into the rain.

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I locked up. Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Bonnie or Charlize had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, which was a relief, but it started loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a bonus I hadn't expected.

Finding the school wasn't difficult; like most other things in Forks, it was just off the highway. It wasn't obvious at first that it was a school, though; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, clued me in. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Thinking back to the muggle primary schools I'd gone to I wondered where the feel of institutionalization was. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?

I parked by the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; there was a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, and a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there weren't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to the front. There were three desks behind the counter; a round, balding man in glasses sat at one. He looked up when I entered.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Beau Swan," I informed him, and saw the quick recognition in his eyes and tried not to groan.

"Of course," he said. He dug through a leaning stack of papers on his desk till he found the ones he was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, Beaufort, and a map of the school." He brought several sheets to the counter to show me. My hand twitched towards my wand, which I had decided to bring with me, at least for familiarity. Sure, I wouldn't actually be able to use it, except for in the case of an emergency, but the fact was an emergency wasn't exactly as improbable as I'd like it to be. In fact, the probability of an emergency was actually higher then the probability of there not being one.

A thoroughly depressing thought that was only more depressing when I thought about all the people I wouldn't be able to hex with bat bogeys for calling me Beaufort.

"Um, it's Beau, please." I said to the man, trying to be as polite about it as possible when I was mentally picturing flying snot attacking him.

"Oh, sure, Beau." The man said easily enough.

He went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. He smiled at me and said he hoped that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could and wished I was in Britain. I'd even take Potions class with Snape for a week straight over starting at this muggle high school, and that was really saying something– not just because she'd murdered Headmistress Dumbledore, but because she was bloody terrifying.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. Most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. The nicest car here was a brand-new silver Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the earsplitting volume wouldn't draw attention to me.

I looked at the map in the truck, memorizing it now so I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. Compared to learning how to get to all my classes at Hogwarts, navigating Forks High wasn't going to be a challenge.

Knowing I couldn't put it off any longer, I stuffed everything in the backpack Charlize had bought for me, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. It won't be that bad, I lied to myself. Seriously, though; this wasn't a life and death situation—it was just high school. It wasn't like anyone was going to bite me.

Faintly incredulous that I was so anxious when I knew that by now I'd be on a wanted list in Britain, and much higher up then I'd like to be after escaping from Hogwarts right under the noses of three Death Eaters on top of being a known member of the DA and a friend of the Girl Who Lived, I steeled myself, exhaled and stepped out of the truck.