Hey, so, its my first ever fan fic! I don't know what it will be like, or how good it will be, I just wanted to write one after reading SO many on here. So, here it is! Pleaaaaase read + review- I wont post an update unless I have 15 reviews, because I don't want to be writing to nobody :') I'm looking for a Beta, so, if anyone is interested, mail me : ) thank you : )

"Look, Isabella, just take the tickets, and please, don't make this any harder than it is?" Renee pleaded with me. I grabbed the tickets from her hand and stuffed them into the Louis Vuitton tote. I heard her sigh after me as I all walked as quickly as my Manolo's would allow me, out of the 4 storey mansion, and down its slate gravel path.

Clicking the button on my white Volkswagen Beetle, I ignored Renee's remorseful look from where she stood on the patio. She should feel guilty for sending me there. I slammed the car into reverse and swung out of the drive in one fluid motion.

As soon as I was three blocks away from my house, I pulled into a grubby looking diner. I needed coffee, and even though this place look like it hadn't seen a bottle of cleaning fluid since it had been opened, at that moment in time-any coffee was good coffee.

I could hear my Blackberry Curve bleeping from somewhere in my bag that I had slung on the backseat, but I ignored it. I knew it would be Renee, or some other bitch booking me for a magazine shoot. God, I hated this life. Some people craved attention and stardom, but for me, it couldn't be more different. I yearned to be normal; I was thrown into this life by my money-grabbing mother, forced to parade up and down catwalks like some air headed clone. She loved to show me off to her friends from a young age - I was never a daughter, just simply a possession that she could show off to her friends, who were equally just as plastic as she is. When the time came for me to do modeling, I was catapulted across the world to spend half a minute on the runway. She got paid, and I got paid in clothes. I enjoyed it for the first few years of my career. Then the tedious monotony of it all took its strain. Renee had this idea that I would become an 'it' girl, who just 'happens' to turn up to any major social event, and seen by the paparazzi constantly. These type of girls earn money from just showing up and getting the media excited with their presence. Once they because well known, the work would fly in; commercials, photo shoots, endorsement freebies. This was the life Renee wanted for me. Not once, can I recall, during my whole life, did she ever stop to ask me how I felt about it all. Sure, my opinion got heard occasionally, such as whether the Giuseppe Zanotti shoes would be better in red or black, but never about the lifestyle choice that was chosen for me. I don't think that she ever considered that I would be unhappy with it - she would give anything to have it. Which is why it doesn't surprise me that as soon as she got the call congratulating her on getting the job of a shiny new, plastic PR manager, she was straight on the phone to Charlie, asking if I could stay with him for a few months. Ha. 'A few months'. Who is she trying to kid? I knew Renee would just abandon me for as long as it took for her to get into 'the industry'. And when she did eventually get in, I would then be sent to her, for her to drag me round the world on a notorious money-making scheme.

Sighing, I collected my Gucci tote that she had pre-packed for me. Because she already knew I was going, she just thought that, you know, being the kind person that she is, she should inform me at some point. How thoughtful of her. Not. Rifling through the bag, I discarded most of the clothes in the back seat. I was going to Forks - not Arizona! When would I ever need these? I slung a pair of 6" platform shoe-boots into the back seats. Renee always picked my clothes for me. She said it 'maximized the press' depending on what I was wearing. For the 4-hour plane ride to Forks, I had been instructed to wear an outfit that apparently 'oozed chic and sophistication'. I had been stuffed into a short, baby doll dress, with a thin racer back and gold buckles down the front. The fabric was a shiny gold and covered in pink flowers. The dress was beautiful, but not for traveling. I knew by the end of my flight, I would hate it. I would also hate the Miu Miu sandals that had been stuffed onto my feet, their patent straps cutting grooves into my toes. Renee had also thrown a vintage Chanel necklace around my neck, a gift from her, that she picked up in an auction for over $900 whilst in San Tropez. So not traveling wear, I thought to myself.

I checked my watch. I had over 6 hours before I needed to get to the airport. I figured I could get something to eat in the diner that I was parked at. Even if I might have to clean the cutlery myself before I use it, it doesn't seem like the kind of place that's so bothered with hygiene. Sweeping another coat of Bobbi Brown lip gloss in Pink Buff, I stepped out of the car and onto the dusty path.

The small diner looked like it was originally red, but the paint was now a faded pink and peeling, showing the ugly bricks underneath. I stepped towards the door, and extending a finger - not wanting to touch the door any more than I had to - I pushed it open. A distant brrring noise rang shrilly from somewhere inside, alerting the staff of my arrival. A acne-infested boy of around 17 popped his head around the counter.

"Well, hello there! How are you?" he said with a wink.

Eurgh- that really is disgusting. He's like 12!

"Um, fine, thank you, can I have a menu please?" I replied.

"Darling, you can have whatever you want" he smirked, holding out a laminated menu for me. I took it quickly and sat down, but I could feel his eyes burning into my back. Damn Renee for making me wear this fucking dress. I hated it. I hated attention, which would surprise most of the press. They, of course, would think that I loved attention, when in fact, I hated it. It was Renee that loved attention, in any way, shape, or form. She would spend hours going over my press cuttings, scribbling comments down in a black biro, telling me things like 'Smile sweetly if your at a event; you should seem ecstatic to be there!' and 'Make your face moody when coming from a meeting; the press will wonder what was said!'. She would then pass the notes back to me, and I would have to read them and adapt to them. She called them her 'Guru guides', because they supposedly increased my press coverage. Yeah, right, I thought. The reason my press increased was because I made it increase; practically the only time I put effort into my job. If only Renee knew that….

I realized that waiter was still standing by my table, pen at the ready to jot down my order. "I'll have a cappuccino, please." He nodded and walked behind the counter. Punching a few buttons into the machine that stood on a greasy worktop, it produced a plastic cup and, after a few clunks and a continuous whirring noise, some form of caffeine trickled down into the cup. The waiter, if I could even call him that, grabbed the cup and walked quicker than necessary towards my table. Putting it down, he smiled again, his eyes slowly drifting towards my cleavage. "Thanks for this, here," I said, throwing a 5 dollar bill onto the table "take this and keep the change!" I grabbed the steaming cup and walked quickly out of the diner. I dropped the coffee into the nearest trash can; it really didn't look worth drinking.

I drove idly to the airport, not caring if I missed my plane. So what? I thought. if I missed my plane, it could be another 48 hours before there's another one, and the longer time to wait, the less time I have to spend in Forks.

I hated Forks. I grew up there with my mother, until I was 4, and then had to make frequent visits back to see Charlie until I was 16, which was when I finally put my foot down. Forks is a tiny little town, where the population of deer was probably more than the people. It rains a ridiculous amount of time a year, and, although I have to admit the pattering of rain on the window does relax me, but the rain ruins my hair. I have naturally curly hair which, thanks to many a beauty product, is tamed into submission. The rain, however, brings out its natural state and I look like a walking tumbleweed. This is one of many, many reasons why I hated Forks.

I pulled up at the airport and parked the Beetle. Grabbing my LV, I said a silent goodbye to my beloved car, and started towards the entrance. Inside the tiny airport, two check-in desks sat in front of my, and only one of them was manned. "Can I help you?", asked a 30-something woman. She appraised my appearance with a raised eyebrow. "Ah, yes, you must be Isabella Swan," she spat at me. "Follow me." She stalked off down a passageway, and I had to jog to keep up with her. "The plane is arriving in five minutes. Wait over there for now." She waved a poorly-manicured hand in the direction of the sparse seating area, where only 5 people sat. Wow, people sure are flocking to Forks in their thousands.

The plane arrived a few minutes later, and I boarded and was seated within 5 minutes. I settled back in the first class seats- a stipulation by me to Renee. If I was going to travel constantly to make her money, I should at least be allowed to travel in comfort.

The plane took off and I slept for the full 4 hours, and awoke to the cabin crew telling me we were landing soon. I felt refreshed after my sleep, and that should make my first meeting with Charlie in over 3 years more bearable. I felt guilty for not speaking to him for that long, but ringing him caused him to ask the inevitable question: when do I want to visit Forks again? Since the answer to that was never, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings, I figured not calling was the best thing to do. And besides, Charlie didn't call me either, so he clearly didn't miss me.

The plane soon landed, and low and behold, it was raining. Great. I tugged on a Stella McCartney Mac and stepped onto the smooth tarmac. I headed through security, and there, standing at the entrance, was Charlie. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for meeting him again. It was going to be a long ride home.

Okay, so, to be honest, I'm totally not sure whether people will like this or not, so, like I said, I'm not going to continue writing until I get 15 reviews. Or someone saying they'd love me to continue. Either way, I'd be really really happy :D So please review- good or bad :D