Chapter One: Shark Out of Water
I don't own Twilight or any of the characters. If that changes, I'll let you know. For now, just run with the knowledge that I own nothing and am making no money.
Rosalie Hale straddled her board, letting the wave pull her in. She shifted her weight, bracing her arms hard against the front of the board as she was pulled up. She stood, splaying her toes for balance, and leaned forward.
Despite the rush of adrenaline and the roar of the ocean, she felt at peace surfing. And today she really needed to find some peace.
The wave crested-She leaned further forward, urging the board on, trying to keep ahead of the curl.
Too late.
The wave broke, crashing down over her. She tumbled through the cold Pacific water in a slow free fall until the strap on her ankle pulled tight. She followed the tension to the surface and came up next to her board, throwing her arms over it to rest for a second before climbing onto it again, straddling it and dipping her arms into the water to steer around.
She saw Royce King paddling towards her, a lazy grin on his face as he shook his head sheepishly. "You're off your game today, babe," he said when he reached her.
Rosalie rolled her eyes. "I've got a lot on my mind."
Royce nodded, sitting up on his board and looking out over the ocean. "Yeah. So you leave tomorrow." He stared at her, a small smile playing at his lips. "You sure you don't want to try to make it work?"
Rose shook her head. Royce was nice. He was good-looking, from a great family, a fantastic surfer... She loved him. Probably. She thought.
That was the problem. Rosalie was seventeen. What did she know about life and love yet, if she was being realistic? Odds are they wouldn't make it together even if she wasn't moving. The idea that they could make it work after her parents moved her to Bastrop, Texas, of all hick land-locked (well, if not technically, it might as well be) places, was almost too ridiculous to even voice.
Royce was sweet. He had been understanding when she voiced this.
But she would miss him. She would miss everything about her life in California, her friends and boyfriend being almost the least of it. Most of all, she would miss the sand, the surf, and the sun. Most days she felt like she could live on those alone.
How was she going to live without them?
The drive to Bastrop took a whopping twenty-two hours; two days with her parents insisting on a stop-over in Sierra Blanca. Every hour that Rosalie followed the moving truck, she felt a little more of her soul die.
Well, maybe that was a little dramatic. But really, there was nothing about this situation that she was okay with. Although Texas was technically a coastal state, it was three hours from the beach. Back home, she had spent just about every evening on the ocean. Now, she'd be lucky if she could get down there once a week. Her board was loaded in the back of the truck with the rest of her stuff. She hadn't been able to bring herself to get rid of it. But she knew it was almost pointless to keep it now.
Her spirits only plummeted further when they finally reached Bastrop. She had been imagining a tiny, campy little hick town, and well...she wasn't disappointed. As they drove into town she saw a sign that said - no joke - "Welcome to Bastrop: The most historic little town in Texas".
Great. Bring on the prospectors and the moonshine stills.
They pulled up outside of the house and Rosalie gaped at it. It was...stilted. Not in the sense that it was awkward of hackneyed somehow, but that the house was actually on stilts. She had seen houses like this, and they only meant one thing in her experience: the house sat on land that would be completely submerged in high tide.
But of course that made no sense. The ocean was almost two hundred miles away.
She got out of the car and slammed the door behind her. Her chest felt tight.
The sound of water rushing hit her ears and she moved numbly towards the steep bank that the house rested on. Gazing down, she could see the swift current of a river rushing by below.
"We thought it might be nice." Her mother had followed her to the edge and rested a reassuring hand on her arm. "You know, for you to still be by the water."
A lump had formed in Rosalie's throat. It was nice, what her mom had tried to do. But the fact was, it wasn't the ocean. No matter how similar it could look or sound, even if it might feel the same...
A shark couldn't live in fresh water.
Rosalie spent the afternoon helping her parents unpack the truck, but perhaps in some sort of protest of the situation, or maybe it was some sort of denial, she didn't unpack. Instead, she opened a single box, pulled out a tank top and pair of shorts - even in September, it was ruthlessly hot, and she felt hot and sticky - and headed downstairs to grab a bottle of water from the fridge before heading out to the back deck.
She had to admit, even if it wasn't the ocean, it was a beautiful view. The current rippled and twisted in front of her house, and just past it to the left, it crashed and roared over rocks that barely reached the air. To the right, barely within her sight, there was a waterfall.
She descended the steps to a sort of dock that just skimmed the surface of the water. Either the river was high right then, or it would be completely submerged when it rained. She turned her face up to look at where the bright sun glared through the tree branches. If it ever rained.
She sat down and dipped her legs into the water. Compared to the heat of the early morning, the water was cool and refreshing. She wanted to just slip in, submerge. Would the current feel enough like the ocean? Would that quell the homesickness?
She remembered someone telling her rivers were more dangerous than the ocean. Calm areas hid strong currents, sneaky undertows that liked to pull in people who had no business being there and hold them under, cradling their bodies where they would never be found...
She liked the ocean. She trusted the ocean. She knew the ocean. She did not trust this new element.
She whipped her head up in surprise when she heard a long, loud shout, followed by a crashing splash, and then a shrill scream and that same splash again. She zeroed in on the waterfall as three others, in quick succession, went tumbling over it.
Rosalie jumped up, her jaw hanging open, wondering what she should do.
They broke the surface after a moment, further downstream. They were in small boats, their bodies covered completely from the waist by the shiny plastic hulls. The first appeared to be male, in a blue boat. As he drew closer, paddling and steering though the water with a short, double-sided paddle, Rosalie saw that he also wore a helmet, sunglasses, and a wetsuit. All of that was covered by a strange bulky life vest. It was different from those she saw on children and non-swimmers at the ocean, different even from the few surfers who used them.
The four others, two more men and two women, followed closely after him, laughing and shouting to each other indistinctly.
As they reached her, the one in the blue boat looked at her, and she realized, with great embarrassment, that she had been staring. Blond hair peeked out from under his helmet. He raised his hand in a short wave and she nodded, unsure of what to do.
Then they were past. She watched as they pushed their way through the choppier water past her house. One of the girls flipped, in her boat, and again Rosalie felt a rush of panic. As far as she could tell, they were strapped in.
But after a split second the boat rolled again and the girl was upright once again. The girl laughed and shook her head hard, sending droplets of water flying from her helmet and the long brown hair that draped down her back.
And then they were gone, disappearing around a bend in the river.
AN: Next chapter we'll explore Rose's first day of a new school, and possibly learn more about the mysterious kayakers. Snazzy and exciting, right? Eh. Maybe only for me. I hope to see you there, though!
Also, future chapters will be longer, I promise. I just wanted this to be a sort of intro chapter, you know.