Um, yeah, so this is a fanfic that we're doing, but please don't cranky if we update slowly. We still have other fanfictions, so keep that in mind.

And if you can't understand the French we put in here, please just ignore it, it's probably not that important.

Bella's attitude towards Americans is in no way how we feel. That's just how most French (and a lot of other countries) feel towards us.

Diclaimer (For the whole story, 'cause we'll forget);

Fun Fact #1- The French DO NOT USE DEODORANT! GROSS!

Fun Fact #2- The French get their cool accents by using a muscle in their nose, which only people with French in them have.

Fun Fact #3- The French don't own Twilight or it's characters, and, quite frankly, neither do we.

Chapter 1

Bonjour! Je mepalle Bella! Le palle France, but I speak English, too!

I've lived in France my whole life, but have recently discovered that I get to move to the very small town of Forks (Forks? Seriously, who in their right mind would name a town Forks? Exibet A why Americans are stupid), Washington of the Olympic Pennensula.

Wee. No, seriously. I'm jumping for joy right now.

Why anyone would move there, I have no clue. Renee says, It's an adventure! I say, it's a punishment. The rainiest place. Ever.

But I guess I should just be happy. I mean, my mom (Renee) is a famous artist, which means (especially in France) we get general publicity from that alone, and I'm a model, so add that on and, yeah, you get the point. But the good thing is, we'll be away from it all in little ol' Forks.

Apparently, Renee says it's a nice little town... That's where she met Charlie. AKA- Father Who's Never Been In My Life. He left a few days after I was born, running away from responsibilities. Figures. Male Americans are also stupid.

So, I'm now officially stuck on a 24 hour plane ride.

Again, wee.

Green. Lots and lots of green. Such an ugly color. Nobody likes green, anyway.

Landing wasn't sooo bad. Well, it wasn't bad if you were too intoxicated to even notice a deer on your front windsheild. I mean, the landing was exremely more bumpy than usual. The pilot was drunk, or so it seemed.

Stupid Americans.

So, this is America? Oh my pop tart, I think I just saw a 15 year old with a kid! You know, we have a joke about this in France. We call it; The Highlands. Home of the high pregnancy rates, high dropout rates, and just plain high people. Oh, and did I mention the obisity rate? Never mind, then...

We got off the plane and sat in a car for about an hour from Port Angeles to Forks. Renee had a car delivered, which is officially MINE, starting now. I got to drive it because Renee was passed out drunk from all the coke and rum she had on the flight. When we arrived at the house, which was newly made just for our coming, four and a half stories, and an elevater to top it off, the butler helped us unpack our bags. Notice I did not put a specific number, thank goodness. I guess it pays off to be a model. You + Designers Clothes!

I went to my room to unpack, and saw that there were already some maids doing it. Since I had nothing else to do I decided to drive around town (if you have the gits to call it that), and oh, my pop tart, thank you Egyptian Budha for the GPS! The high school, which was one of the larger things in town, was tiny, and looked more like a prison than a school.

Then, goodness knows, I got a flat tire a few miles after the school. Lucky me. But, thanking Egyptian Budha again, personal trainers and the fact that I can change a tire saved me. I was almost done when I was suddenly aware of someone behind me. Forgetting I was in America, the land of English speaking idiots who don't take the time to be bilingual, I I turned and said, "Parde mua?" And got two blank stares, but if I may put in, they were two very hot stares.

"What?", said the shorter one, who was in my opinion hotter. Stupid hormones.

"Oh, my gosh, I'm sorry! May I help you?" I said in my French accent, finishing up.

"Ummm... uh... yeah, uh, Stephan, can we help her?", the taller one said, oggling.

"Uh, we came out to see if you needed help, actually," Stephan said.

"Well, I'm already finished, but thanks for the offer." I started to get in my car, but Stephan grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him.

Wait, can we show you around?", he asked. "You seem new here."

"Sure, I suppose. But my car only seats two, unless we sqeeze." Stupid Italian sports car.

"Well, we could take my truck. It's a three seater!" The tall one said. Whoot. A whopping three seater. We walked over to a jet black truck.

"Okay, can I drive? " I asked. I don't trust men in the driver's seat.

"Sure. Damon, can I talk to you for a sec?" Stephan asked.

Damon nodded. "Sure." He walked over to the garage door.

I waited while they fought about something, who knows what. When they finally finished they told me to hop into the car and Stepahn got in beside me, while Damon got on the other side of him. I put my hand in Damons face for the keys while he just stared at it like an idiot.

"Uhh..."

"The keys?!"

"Oh, yeah, that. Hang on." He reached into his back pocket and got out his keys, then handed them to me.

"Thank you. Now, where do I go first?"

A/n:

Lili- Is not currently available at the time. She's on a road trip to Maine and won't answer her phone...

Toastey- Hey! I hope you like it, please tell us if it's worth continuing. We had a lot of fun writing this... Actually, we came up with the idea in a hotel in Virginia, where we could barely whisper, and had nothing to write on but a mini Jack Skelington notepad. Story of this story's life... Check out our poll!