A/N: Righty, hello everyone from the land of keyboards and empty bottles of lemonade. Ok, this is my first fanfiction, an All Human AU, and is, as you might have read on the summary, which was really sucky, an Alice fanfiction. All normal couples, but you'll need to wait patiently for A/J stuff. So without further ado, here is Your Call.

Disclaimer: At the dawn of time, Stephanie Meyer, a intelligent, gifted writer and I, a scruffy, devious demon-child fought over the rights of the most important story of all time in an epic tug-of-war battle. Sad to say, Meyer has some serious guns. So, unfortunately, I have to tell you all that I do not own the rights to Twilight; these characters (besides the fact that I managed to magic them into humans) are not mine and I don't own them. But I am going to the gym ever now and then. So watch out Stephanie, Edward Cullen is as good as mine! –laughs evily-

…Pfft- only in my imagination.

Your Call.

Chapter One:
Firstest

Alice

I glanced at the luminescent clock that sat on my bedside table and ran my fingers over the slim mobile I held in my cold hand.

7:29

He was late. My love, my life, was late. I huffed impatiently.

"He said he would at least call…" I grumbled. "Not one of them has remembered me yet." I looked down at my mobile, not for the first, or last time, that morning.

It shivered in my palm.

New text message, my idiot phone stated the obvious.
From: Bella Swan

Hey Aly, wanted to wish you a happy birthday. May your day be bright, the cake be strawberry and the shoes be Prada. While she didn't understand my obsession, the girl knew me too well not to tease me with shoes.
See you later birthday girl :)
Your clumsy, not-so fashion-fantastic friend-
Bella

I smiled; trust Bella to wake up this early on a Saturday just to let me know she remembered. This made sense in a weird, ironic way. My first friend would be the first to text me.

Seconds continued to flow by me as I stared at the glowing green numbers of my bedside clock waiting and, without warning, memories of that first day came back to me… making me smile.

It was my first day of kindergarten. I had waved for the camera and my teary eyed mother hugged my strangely (considering how short I turned out to be) tall father, clumsily tied my new pink shoelaces and entered my new "classroom" with a bright, happy smile on my face.

The room had large, blank walls. There was a dusty fan on the ceiling that needed to be cleaned. There were many small plastic tables that had been painted either pink or blue, and matching stools, that had all be pushed up against the back of the room, furthest away from a larger, wooden table and swivel chair that was undoubtedly not meant for us. There were large, well loved beanbags dotted in front of the clean whiteboard that hung on the wall behind and slightly beside the wooden desk. It was, as a whole, ugly.

The lady who, I assumed, was this "teacher" my father had told me all about, was writing words I couldn't comprehend on the large whiteboard. I recognized the letter M and the letter I, but that was all. Her writing was too loopy and her chunky frame blocked my view.

The other little children glanced at me mournfully, believing that their parents had left them forever and would never come back. A few of them were crying. Others were eying each other or the teacher with strong distrust.

I was of a different belief. This was me- Alice Brandon, on my first day of school. I was as sure of myself as I had ever been, or would ever be.

I passed a little girl (who was taller than me) with pretty brown hair and eyes. She was holding back tears, while pleading to her mother not to go. Her mother glanced at a man who was standing a few steps away -her father, I guessed- awkwardly- a long standing tension running between them, and neither knew what to do.

I stopped and took the small girl's sweaty hand.

"Hiya, I'm Mary Alice Brandon," I introduced myself like my father had told me to that morning. "But you can call me Alice. We'll be best friends." This I was sure of. She was startled by my confidence, but my smile must have comforted her enough to let me pull her towards two empty beanbags that were lying near the other children. She followed me, smiling shyly and waved her free hand at her amazed parents, her troubles totally forgotten.

"Hi. I- I'm Bella." She smiled again timidly, her nervous fingers clutching the edge of her T-shirt.

My returning smile was dazzling, and together we faced our first day of school, with all the icky boys, the snooty girls and the (downright evil) smiling teacher.

While the other kids arrived, I turned to my new friend and started questioning and stating at her at top speed. This was our first day of school after all, and while there would be other first days, I reasoned, this would be the firstest of the first. Make the most of it.

"I like your shirt." I made a quick motion at the T-shirt design. "Smilies are my favorite and that one's yellow, which is a nice color, but pinks better I think. The blue background is pretty on you, too. D'ya like mine? Its pink." I told her sincerely, pulling my own shirt. This was important stuff. "And it also is purple. Like that dinosaur on the television in the lounge-room, but this one's lighter. My parents say it's a good show but I think its silly. He has a weird voice."

She nodded, a jerky motion. "Yes," her deep brown eyes finally meeting mine. "I don't like him," she confided, glancing around. "He's scary."

I giggled slightly, "Maybe, but not as scary as that lady." I grinned, pointing at the teacher. "She's got plastic yellow hair and too mush lipstick. I think shes t-ter-" I struggled to say the word my father sometimes used when talking about work- "teri- she's scary." I finished.

"I don't like her nails." Bella agreed me, eying the woman's hands, "they look like claws."

"Maybe she's like the monster than lives under beds and stuff like-" The conversation would have continued in this fashion the teacher interrupted my important story with a breezy and obviously fake, happy voice.

"Hello everyone! My name-" pointing at herself, putting a little too much emphasis on my in her attempt to make us like her- "is Miss Dahlenburg."

The class stared back blankly. I thought that the sandy-haired boy next to me had gone into shock.

"…But you can call me Miss D.

"Welcome to your first day of school." She told us in a slow, sugarcoated voice. Yes thank you for that; I wanted to say, annoyed, thanks for telling me something I already know.

I had always had a strong personality, even back then. Probably from watching too many teenage television series when I was still learning words.

I frowned as she continued.

"Yes, school," she nodded, an exaggerated movement, "and we are going to have a really good time today. We shall all be friends and have fun and learn. Do we want to learn everyone?" she asked, unnecessarily loud. Yes, yes we can hear you.

I few nervous people whispered, "yes", back to her.

This wasn't what she wanted.

"I can't here you!" She smiled, cupping her large, manicured hands behind her ear. "Yes Miss D." most of the class sang back to her.

I looked sideways at Bella and pulled a face. She smiled and giggled, knowing what I meant.

Her perfect pink lips curved into an even larger smile. "This is going to be a long day." She giggled again, her face going slightly redder as she smiled. She was pretty. "Thank you Alice," She told me in a more serious whisper as the teacher pointed out to the rest of the class that we were going to do paintings, mentioning that paint was paint, not food. "I think you're right, we will be friends."

"I'm always right, silly Bella, and we have aaall day-" a very long time, in my opinion back then- "to be friends."

Too right. We were fast friends and stuck together as friends should throughout not only that day, but for the following thirteen years. My first, and best, friend.

Good times, I reflected, bringing myself back to the present.

I stretched me stiff legs out in front of me as my fingers darted across the keypad on my phone that many would consider too small.

If I told you that I was good with texting- I wouldn't have been bragging, so a few seconds later:

Send.

Now all that I can do is sit on my hands and wait. That and stare at my ugly luminous clock.

So that's what little, graceful old me did. Except for the stare part. It was more of a scowl, really.

Bella

Buzzzz buzzzz, buuuuuzzzzzzzzz-

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled stabbing at my alarm clock that was persistently humming at me, "you can shut up now."

I blinked through the sleep-induced haze that covered my eyes, yawned and stretched. When my eyes were clear, I glared at my clock.

7:26

"What was that for?" It stared back at me blankly, if not a little amused. It was taunting me; talking to an alarm clock. Again. Edward was right- talking to inanimate objects was unhealthy.

Now, I asked myself, why did you wake yourself up at this ungodly hour. Then it hit me.

Alice.

Still yawning I forced my bumbling limbs to drag themselves off of the bed I had been so comfortable in a few seconds before, to my bag where my brick-of-a-phone lived.

My clumsy fingers poked the numbers slowly as my sleep-deprived brain tried to put together a comprehensible happy birthday text.

Send.

I smiled despite my bad mood. Alice had been my first friend, and in a world that didn't understand me and my clumsy ways- her friendship was a priceless treasure. Without her, I would be only the smallest blip in a sky of stars. I continued to smile, suddenly content as I stumbled to the kitchen to fix myself breakfast.

It made me feel slightly better about myself, that despite everything that had happened to me, and that would happen to me, Alice would always stand by me. One bright star in the evening sky with a smaller glow next to it, seeming to be brighter than it really was because of the star.

I could remember our first day, a clear memory among many blurry ones. But, despite the kindness she had shown me, spontaneous, that memory wasn't my favorite. No, my personal favorite Alice moment was in our second year.

It had started with salt.

"Charlie- pass the salt."

"Please."

"Please what?"

"Please pass the salt, Charlie. Of course, Renee. Why, thank you Charlie. No problem Renee."

"Ugh! Do you always have to be so picky? No- that's right your not picky. Not on the whole, are you Charlie? No- just where I am concerned."

"What?"

Well, maybe it didn't start there. The tension had been growing ever since I had been born, the tension between my two parents. There had been many bickering arguments like this one. Sparks would fly; the fight would grow into something more serious. It always started with stupid little things like salt. Not and argument, they assured me afterwards. A discussion. Charlie would send me up to my room while they "discussed." These "discussions" sometimes went for hours. One particular night, like the other nights I couldn't stand it- the two people I loved, fighting. But the only thing that was different that time was that I did something about it.

So I slipped out the back door when they raised their voices to an unbearable volume and I went to the one person I could trust to hold my hand and cry with me.

Alice.

I crept over to her window, which was luckily on the ground floor and tapped the window with the back of my knuckles.

The curtains were swept back behind the ice-cold glass.

"Bella?" She swung the window open, her dark eyes wide with surprise and… concern. My friend.

"Oh, Alice!" I sobbed, reaching out to her with one hand, and trying to wipe my tears away with the other.

She may have been (and always would be) small, but Alice had a lot of hidden strength. She pulled me through her window without a single question save one.

"Oh, Bella. What will we do with you?" She brushed the hair out of my eyes and led me towards to smoldering fireplace in front of her unreasonably large bed.

She didn't say anything; she just let me lean my head on her small shoulder. She let me stain her silk pajamas with my tears. She would even hum soothingly ever now and then. She cried with me.

For me.

My pain was her pain. My friend.

That night was fairly fuzzy. When tears take up all your attention, time is meaningless. Her comforting wasn't, though. And that quiet evening that we spent lying on her pink fluffy rug by the dying fire stuck with me.

The tune of the Mexican Hat Dance interrupted me mid-bite through my toast.

Sender: Alice Brandon.

Yes, yes- got it. Thank you Mr. Brick. Argh- you're doing it again, Bella, inanimate objects can't hear you, especially if the conversation is inside your head. I berated myself silently as I opened the text.

Cinder-Bella, My not-so-fashion-tastic- friend- at least YOU remembered.

Still waiting for the rest of the gang- not to mention that hopeless boyfriend of mine.

He is asking for my wrath by being late.

Your psychic fairy-god mother,

Alice.

Ah, so he's not there yet. I chuckled quietly. Hell hath no fury like Alice Brandon. Jasper had better watch himself whenever he decides to show his pretty little mug. I forced a glass of milk down, wrote a quick, messy note to Charlie, and attempted to get the truck started.

Maybe it would start first go, I tried to convince myself.

Not such luck, apparently.

So Ta-Da, there, ladies and gentlemen, is the first chapter. Liked it? Maybe not? (not that I'd blame you). Reviews? Yes? No? Get lost? Ok, sure- just leave one.