Hey, I wasn't even planning on writing this, but it fought it's way out of my brain and into a story. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Anything recognisable from Twilight does not and never will belong to me

Claimer: I own the Macgregors :)


I couldn't believe this. I honestly couldn't. Why my parents had decided to move across the world to a tiny wet reservation in the USA with absolutely nothing near it was completely beyond me. I come from Scotland for goodness sakes.

Why would my family want to move from one of the wettest places on earth to that again but with added coldness? It didn't make sense. Sitting in the front of the car watching rain beat down on the windows I wasn't convinced by my mother's excuse of "It's wonderful and green, and quiet!". Maybe I didn't want it to be quiet.

I mean, I'd seen the house we were moving to. It was tiny, and there was one bathroom. I would be able to deal sure because it wasn't bad or anything, I was just a little concerned about where all my crap was going to go. I had a lot of stuff.

"Come on Genevieve, I think you've sulked for long enough. It's a lot like Scotland you know, just it's Native American." I levelled a glare at my mother when she used my first name. Being a proud member of the Macgregor clan, I had to have one of the Macgregor names. The one I got landed with- Genevieve. I suppose it's better than Jacobinia (I pity my sister) and my brother was lucky to get off with Archibald as his middle name but I can't stand being called Genevieve.

"Gail...my name is Gail mum. Ga-il." Gail is technically my middle name, but it's heaps better than my former. Up front I heard a sigh.

"Fine, I'm sorry. Gail." My mother has a problem with my name changing. She says Genevieve is romantic. Ha, not when you have to live with it.

"Just try and co-operate please. I don't have time for 14-year-old tantrums."

Yeah mum, you're funny. I wasn't even not co-operating, just pointing out the fact that I'll be a total freak. I have a broad Scottish accent, I live on a Native American reservation and I'm pale skinned. That's so normal.

Even though I was indignant, I kept my mouth shut and fell back in my seat huffing. She just got worse if you let her get in her stride.

"Coby! Give the sweets back!" Came the whining voices of the twins, Robin and Francis. They were actually talking to Jacobinia, my younger sister. When I'd discovered the name of my new sibling, even at the age of one years old I was horrified. I mean, really- that's just unfair to the kid with a name like that. So when I was introduced to the squalling bundle of blankets that was my sister I'd taken one look at her and dubbed her "Coby" much to my parent's chagrin. They were the only people to not pay attention to our nickname rule.

"No! You've eaten half of them already, you'll be sick." Came her stubborn little voice and there was the distinct sound of the sweet tub snapping shut.

"But-" Came the two whining protests. I was about to intervene (little kids whining in a small enclosed space is awful) but Jessie, my older brother got there first.

"Jeez, will you lot just shut up? I swear, I'll kill you when this is all over." Car journeys make him cranky. Add in a long plane journey and it's garuanteed he's got his panties in a bunch.

The twins hadn't really clued up to this yet since they were only five and argued back. Coby and myself took this as our silent cue to disappear so I grabbed my green I-pod and turned the volume up while Coby dug up a book. Lucky girl didn't get motion sickness unlike myself.

Somehow amidst all the fighting behind me I managed to fall asleep and it was only several hours later when someone yanked my flaming hair that I woke up. You see, I stick out like a sore thumb in my family. Everyone else in it has dark colouring, taking after my parents.

I'm the oddity who decided that Grandma's would be a good genepool to swim in and got her bright red hair and green eyes. The others have dark brown hair and dark brown eyes with olive skin. That came from Grandpa who was a Spaniard (or one in theory, he just spent a part of his childhood there. His mum was the pure Spaniard.) Mum had blue eyes instead of brown and her skin was slightly lighter but she still looked related to the rest of them.

"Gaillllllllll," Robin giggled in my ear. "We're here Gail!"

That got me moving. After 3 hours in the car I was grumpy and my butt was numb. "FREEDOM!" I crowed, doing the famous Happy-dance.

Jessie shoved past me with a box in his arms and an amused smirk on his face. "Sometimes it's hard to believe I'm related to you." I rolled my eyes and poked my tounge out at him. Then with a cackle I danced past him to get a good look at the house.

It wasn't all that bad. Small- oh goodness it was small -but we'd fit. Being the oldest girl I got my own room for 'reasons' (cough cough) and poor Coby had to share with the twins. I pitied her, but I wasn't about to offer dibs. The outside of the house was covered in red boards and it had a black slate roof with a porch that had a swing on it. Someone was trying hard to please me, or this was an itsy-bitsy fairytale town. I wasn't opposed to this exactly, but you don't just find houses with this much story material. Apparently however, you did here.

Jessie was cursing fluently behind me (I gathered he'd dropped a box on his foot) so before I could get the urge to laugh at him I let myself inside. I was pleasantly surprised. The house was bigger on the inside, but I didn't have much time to take it in before Dad came bumbling out of what I assumed was the kitchen.

"Gene sweetie!" Dad wasn't asbad as mum with the nicknames, but it always had to something out of Genevieve. This particular nickname was basically Jenny. I didn't get what his problem was.

"Daddy-kins!" He caught me up in his huge arms and crushed me to his chest. I could feel it vibrating as he asked me how the journey had been. To help sort things out for the rest of us, Dad had come here a couple of weeks ahead and so was well blended in with the "Nativeness".

When the twins came flying through the door I latched off of my dad and decided now would be a good time to help my brother. "Need help there Jess?"

"Please Gail. I'm about to drop your guitar!" Motivation much?

"Not my baby!" I shrieked and grabbed the black case from where it toppled on top of Jessie's box. "It's alright, I've got you!"
Jessie shook his head at me with a grin and smiling innocently back I helped him carry the box into the house.

It was official- I loved my bedroom. Whoever had decorated this was my favourite person ever! Albeit this was the smallest room upstairs, but it made up for it in awesomeness. It's four walls were painted a soft orange, and one was a vivid red that had a small alcove tucked away in it. This now contained my beautiful electric guitar. The carpet was a dark green that wouldn't stain (I couldn't help being clumsy) and there was a small bed pressed underneath a fairly big window. The view had me grinning like an idiot.

I've always been a stickler for woods and forests, and these ones were no different. The trees were very much like the ones in Scotland, not that I was expecting them to not look tree-ish, but they were the same tall pine trees, a few oaks and silver birches. I felt home.
Humming Lord of the Rings music to myself I busied myself unpacking. About 5 boxes were piled in a corner, dauntingly big and heavy looking. Oh this wasn't going to be fun.

I was right. The first box contained my big stuff, like my stereo and laptop (my second baby) but also had a truckload of books piled at the bottom. My back hurt just looking at it. Still, I didn't want to have to do it later so made myself start heaving up armfuls of tree and place them artistically on my bookshelf. Ok, so it looked like a bomb had hit it, but there was no way I'd get them all it fit if I did it like a normal person would.

The stereo joined my guitar in the alcove and my laptop went under my bed so nobody could steal it. Yeah, I'm just paranoid like that. I'd forgotten just how many books I had. Most had been read over five times and were pretty beat up, but they were impossible to let go of. Giving up a loved book is like being taken away from a good friend. Ahem, sap alert.

Anyway, even with one box done I was about ready to die. The next box was filled with tins, each of which was filled with little peices of junk that I'd found cleaning my last bedroom and I had no idea where to put them so I kind of just left that one for later. The next had paper in it. Lots and lots of paper. Most of it was photos, and the wall surrounding my bed became covered. I enjoyed this session a little bit more, and this was only helped when I discovered my Cd's lurking in the box's depths.

Finally...the cardboard was empty. After getting permission from a highly amused father I dragged the boxes to the middle of the floor and jumped on them. Longest few hours of my life.

It was getting dark out now and I scrambled up towards my window to watch the sun setting. I don't think it had really sunk in yet that we weren't going to go back. I wasn't going to see my Scotland in a few weeks- ha, more like for a fair few years. Even if it seemed nice, La Push had some living up to.

I hadn't met anyone from here yet, but if I got one crack about my accent I was not going to be happy. I would also not be happy if anyone commented on my skin or hair colour. I wasn't blind. Another bad thing about La Push it seemed, was it's way of making my mother rush. Mum was so ridiculously enthusiastic about it here, she'd enrolled us for the school...starting tomorrow.
Was jet lag a concern for her? Of course not.

School...shoot me now.


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