With so few students at the school, naturally there weren't many taking P.E. at the same time. Bella's arrival finally brought the volleyball roster up to twelve girls.
She hadn't brought proper sportswear.
How was she supposed to know they had four straight periods of P.E.? Her memory of gym class was still stuck on shot put and long jump—not a full-strength volleyball match right off the bat.
If the original Bella were here, she'd immediately crumble under the weight of all that familiar hostility.
With her old coordination and pathetic stamina, playing volleyball would've been a disaster.
But now? Bella wasn't worried at all. She'd never played volleyball in either life, but confidence practically glowed off her. Please. Even if the boys joined, none of them could keep up with her now.
She dug around and picked a slightly oversized gray T-shirt to wear. She tied the hem at her waist, revealing a smooth, glossy strip of midriff—perfect ab-flex without even trying. Deep-blue shorts, sneakers, and those long legs made it painfully obvious who in the room had the "main character" stats.
The girls' locker room wasn't violent—no hair-pulling or "beat the new girl" rituals—but silent comparison was unavoidable.
Bella had barely taken off her jacket before she sensed the stares from both sides.
Sneaking glances.
Sizing her up.
She looked back, sizing them up too.
Good.
Not a single threat in sight.
These girls were normal—born to grow up here, maybe go to a modest college, come home after tasting the "freedom of democracy," and take over their parents' jobs. Live out their lives in this tiny town.
They weren't beauty queens. They weren't stars. They weren't sculpting explosive figures in expensive gyms.
Soft waistlines. Thicker arms. One girl… might've even been slightly bow-legged.
Even with Bella's pirate-queen ancestry not emphasizing physical beauty as much as raw capability, her slim waist, long legs, and porcelain skin were more than enough to crush the competition.
"Hi, I'm Jessica."
"I'm Dani."
"I'm Angela."
The names were as generic as they came. Bella had been in this world barely a month and had already met three Jessicas. Zero uniqueness points.
They were friendly, and Bella didn't act aloof. They chatted with polite enthusiasm.
As she talked, Bella evaluated them mentally. Jessica was clearly the prettiest—likely the class beauty before Bella showed up. Angela was the black-haired girl wearing glasses… to play volleyball. She had to be extremely nearsighted.
Bella couldn't help asking, "Wearing glasses—doesn't that get in the way?"
Angela's answer was straight out of a sports-brochure: "I love sports! Volleyball's my favorite!"
Soon, they changed and headed out for the match.
Volleyball was a sport Bella had heard of but never actually played. Rules? Not a clue. She started out cautiously.
Volleyball had no time limit—best of five, meaning games could drag on forever.
Three minutes in, Bella relaxed completely.
Sure, she didn't know the rules… but these girls barely had technique.
It was bad. Really bad.
Angela-with-the-glasses flinched every time the ball came near her.
Jessica kept shouting commands, trying to look like she was leading the team, but Bella could tell she was holding back—saving her stamina.
Why save stamina?
Easy. Four games in a row was nothing for athletes, but for average girls? Pure torture.
No teenage girl wanted to be seen by boys drenched in sweat, hair stuck to her face, wheezing like she'd run a marathon.
Bella mentally labeled the P.E. teacher who scheduled four consecutive volleyball periods as a complete idiot. And of course, complaining wasn't allowed—otherwise people would tag her as "lazy" or "a nerd."
Angela ran past Bella at one point, panting like a broken bellows, sweat dripping from her glasses onto her lenses. She wiped them quickly, pretending nothing happened… then cheerfully declared she loved volleyball.
Right.
Weak strength, minimal technique, nonexistent teamwork. The first match ended quickly, and Bella's team lost—even though the other side was also conserving energy.
Second match, Bella stopped hiding.
Originally she played the support role, but once she used even a fraction of her real ability, she instantly became the main attacker—plus half the blocking team by herself.
If she could track bullet trails with her eyes, a giant volleyball was nothing.
Bella single-handedly handled offense and defense.
It was a blessing for Angela, who was taller but hopeless at blocking. Now all she had to do was stand there and pretend to help while Bella covered for her.
Whenever it mattered, Bella moved with near-athlete speed—blocking, spiking, passing. Her technique was basic, but her strength, speed, and reaction time carried everything.
Volleyball relied on teamwork, yes. But overwhelming physical advantage could absolutely decide the game.
Her momentum boosted the entire team. The girls weren't tactical, but when they realized Bella was dominating, they made a point of setting her up.
The faster they won, the sooner they could rest.
Watching boys play basketball was fun. Being watched by boys while sweating through your shirt? Not so fun.
Bella's overwhelming performance crushed the six girls on the other team. They simply couldn't keep up.
Her side's morale skyrocketed. Out of the four matches, they lost only the first—winning the next three cleanly.
Bella even bought drinks for both teams afterward, draining her already sad wallet, but winning her a huge bump in popularity.
And, of course, she didn't forget to farm psychic power.
"Jessica, help me rub my wrist—I hit too hard just now."
"Wow! Your skin's so nice!"
"Yours is nice too."
"No way! You're really pretty!"
"I think so too. Thanks."
"???"
In less than two days, thanks to her beauty, athletic dominance, and generosity, Bella had turned the former class beauty and the glasses-girl into her friends—real or fake, didn't matter.
Pretty, athletic, and generous—no one in Forks High was going to reject that combination.
As for studying?
What was that again?
Forks High believed in one thing only: the gospel of having fun.