Hi! Thanks for clicking. This is my first story that I am dedicated to sticking to. I have some good ideas bouncing around in my head. I don't currently have anyone to edit except myself, so I hope I have edited as best as possible.

Side notes: I'm not a huge fan of the Bella and Edward part of the story. So I may not speak too fondly of that, or focus on it much other than necessary. This story takes place slightly before and during Eclipse. I'm gonna stick with the script until I can veer off the books.

Disclaimer: I do not own Stephanie Meyer's Twilight Saga, nor any of the characters except my own original ones.

ONE

From the front seat of Aunt Sophie's car, I squinted my eyes, trying to peer through the impending darkness at the engulfing green scenery we passed by. The attempt fell in vein; only trees and other car headlights were visible at this time of night.

Although having visited this place—Forks, I reminded myself—countless times throughout my childhood, I still felt like I was in a completely alien town. Maybe that was because when I visited, my dad had always been there. Now that he was gone, everything felt foreign to me.

My dad's death, not unexpected, had been a long time coming. In fact, after the doctor gave his estimate, it seemed like my family waited for it to happen, morbid as that sounds. By the end, most of my grieving took place in the following weeks where he sat me and my younger brother down to tell us he had terminal brain cancer. It was around the time I noticed him losing his sense of self that his sister, our Aunt Sophie, came to live with us in Oregon, helping out with his medical treatments and anything we needed. She'd left everything behind in Washington where she lived, including her husband and her job as an elementary school teacher. Luckily, they granted her a temporary leave under the unfortunate circumstances. I'd grown unexpectedly close with her, whether it be because she was the female companionship I constantly craved, or the loneliness I began experiencing when my own father couldn't recognize me.

The funeral brought on a sense of relief, knowing that the months of suffering were over. I felt some sense of comfort knowing that my parents were together once more. Of course, it was nothing compared to the absolute loss inside me knowing they would never see me graduate, or go to college, get married. Even thinking I could never talk to them, or fight with them over stupid shit I would regret when I got older. Stupid shit I'd fought with him about over the years. Knowing my future children wouldn't know my goofball dad, who wore baseball caps every chance he could and told the same story a million times and, God bless him, bought tampons and pads for me late at night when I first got my period. The absence of my mother, who died giving birth to my brother when I was three, had long been settled, had been set in stone as a part of my life. My father...who raised me and my brother alone, who worked and supported us and taught us everything we knew today...

I pushed these thoughts out of my head. Now was not the time. Dad made me promise that I wouldn't cry or grieve anymore than necessary. That I had to be strong for Theo, who had been lost long before all the shit came flying at us. As much as we fought and as far as we had drifted apart, I couldn't imagine what it was like for Theo; he was only fourteen. At least I made it through most of my teenage years, had gotten to celebrate my seventeenth birthday a month ago with Dad.

Darkness settled like a blanket over the small town of Forks. Sophie began driving through a more residential part of town, most of the houses lit with light. Some pop music played softly on the radio. The five hour drive from Silverton had been a mostly quiet one, save for some conversation between me and Sophie. Theo, dead silent in the back seat, headphones in his ears, had his eyes closed. I doubted he was actually sleeping.

We drove for another ten minutes or so. I remember Sophie explaining she lived near the border of Forks and the Native American reservation called La Push. That was where my mom grew up. Dad grew up in Forks, with his sister and his parents, and where he met his future wife. My paternal grandparents lived in Florida now, living in retirement glory; my mom's mom resided in California. Only Sophie and her husband remained, my parents having relocated to Oregon for my dad's job before I was born.

The house we pulled up to was modest and classic, two stories with a driveway and one car garage—well, to be fair, it was dark out and I couldn't see much else except the downstairs lights that illuminated the place.

As Sophie put the car in park and turned off the ignition, I began climbing out of the car, my tired muscles rejoicing in finally standing up. The front door opened then, and Dominic, my uncle, emerged from the house, as well as their dog, Finn, who I only recognized from pictures. I let the dog come bounding up to me, sniffing, licking, and panting. I petted him affectionately, the dog giving me a lift I needed.

"Alba, it's good to see you," Dominic said simply before hugging me, a warm and familial embrace that I welcomed gratefully. We were not particularly close, but I liked him and we got along well.

After the greeting, he started grabbing some of our luggage out of the car. A lot of our stuff—like my dad's stuff—had been put into storage. The other half was shipped out and we would receive it within a week or so.

Theo finally emerged from the car, a sullen expression on his face.

"Hey buddy, how you doing?" asked Dominic, reaching out his hand to shake.

My brother ignored the handshake, instead turning to Sophie. "Where's my room? I'm tired."

"We could use your help with our stuff, Theo," I interjected, seeing Sophie's frustrated facial expression. I put emphasis on "our", considering half of it was his. My aunt was much younger than my dad, and the amount of stress and pressure there was to help raise her niece and nephew took a toll on her. I tried to help with Theo as much as possible; he was my brother, after all.

"Yeah, if we all grab a couple things, it will only take one trip," added Dominic.

"Whatever. Fine." Theo sighed audibly.

And they say girls are dramatic.

Between the four of us, Finn trailing on our heels, we managed to get everything in the house fairly quickly. Dominic helped my brother take his bags to his room first, so the complaining could stick to a minimum. When they went up the wooden staircase to the second floor, which housed three bedrooms, I joined my aunt in the kitchen. I plopped down at the island counter, while Sophie opened the fridge and took out some Chinese takeout leftovers and popped them in the microwave. When the food was properly warmed, she dished out two plates of vegetable lo-mein, chicken and broccoli, and white rice, placing one of them in front of me. She poured herself a glass of wine and offered me a glass of iced tea. Surprisingly, with my recent lack of appetite, the food smelled good and I felt a small pang of hunger.

Dominic came down five minutes later as Sophie and I silently picked through our food, too tired to keep up much conversation. However, when her husband sat down, running his hands through his dark brown hair, both of us could tell Theo stressed him out.

"What's the damage?" asked Sophie, sipping on her wine.

"I tried to talk to him, but he didn't say anything. Just stared at me."

"He won't talk to anyone. Don't take it personally," I said, taking another bite of chicken.

Dominic shrugged. "I guess I just feel like I should help him out, you know? He's only fourteen. He's such a sensitive kid..." He trailed off, folding his hands together in defeat.

"Who knows, maybe the change of pace will be good for him," suggested Sophie.

I hated to rain on their parade, but I never was one to hold my tongue. "All I know is that Theo has been moody since the day he started puberty. Don't hold your breath on him becoming some happy-go-lucky kid."

Post-dinner, in which I actually felt full and satisfied, Sophie showed me to my room. It was smaller than my old one, but I couldn't complain. The walls were painted a mint green, blank of pictures and posters because, as Sophie said, "I want you to decorate it so it feels more like home." There was a full-sized bed and tiny closet, a desk and—the best part of the room—a reading nook accompanied with throw pillows, the window covered by a transparent curtain.

I hugged my aunt goodnight, thanking her quietly. She closed the door behind her. I collapsed on the bed, sighing with exhaustion. Seeing as it was only nearing nine o' clock, I didn't allow myself to fall asleep just yet.

Instead, I checked my cell phone, noticing that I had a few text messages from friends back home. I replied to them absentmindedly, then set it down on the nightstand to charge. I extracted my laptop from my backpack, opened up iTunes, and put on some music while I worked on unpacking.

By eleven, all the clothes I had with me were arranged in the closet. There weren't many personal touches to be had yet, considering most of it was on its way here via a hired U-Haul, save for the "fairy lights" I strung up around the room and a few drawings of mine which I tacked on the wall, my favorite pastels I had done over the years. Then there was one picture of me and my parents when my mom was pregnant with Theo, at some lake in Oregon we used to go to. I propped it up on my desk, next to my laptop and my drawing pad. I made sure to bring it with me for safekeeping.

Tiredness subsiding from being active, I settled in the comfy reading nook with my drawing pad and a box of half-used pastels. There was not much I could draw in front of me, so I started sketching randomly, letting my hands do the work.

Most of the time, I envisioned a picture, or set up shop in a specific scenery I could draw. I liked looking at, say, a flower or a landscape and watching it translate onto the small rectangle at my fingertips. Tonight, however, I closed my eyes, ready to put pastel to paper whatever first popped to mind. After looking at the picture of my parents and I on the beach only minutes before, I found myself starting to outline a pair of eyes.

One of my earliest memories was Dad telling me, "Alba, you have your mother's eyes. That's how you'll remember her when you're older. Every time you look in the mirror, a piece of her lives on in you."

He repeated it to me often over the years, anytime I felt more distraught than usual about my mother's death. Looking at pictures of my mom when she was younger, it was true. I resembled her, especially where our hazel eyes were concerned. Easily enough, I got lost in recreating the pair of even set eyes, almond shaped and eyelids hooded, framed by full, dark lashes.

At some point, I felt my eyes growing heavy, a yawn escaping my lips. I glanced up from the drawing, setting down the pastel in my hand, flexing the stiffening fingers. Outside was dark, the only light coming from the crescent moon half shrouded by clouds. I stood up, leaving the drawing open to its page and pastels on the window seat.

Dull light seeped through the window, streaming across the room, when I woke the next morning. I felt a lazy sort of tiredness lingering on my body, my eyes refusing to stay open for long. The bed felt too comforting to consider leaving. Seeing as it was Sunday, tomorrow meant my start at a new high school for the remaining two months of school. Better to soak up the last chance of sleeping in for the next five days while I had the chance.

When at last I dragged myself out of bed, I threw on a sweatshirt and padded out of my room and down the hallway. I heard voices as I approached the stairs; obviously, Sophie and Dominic...and a third voice? The only thing I could recognize was that it was female.

Down the stairs I went, taking a right into the kitchen. Finn lay at his owner's feet, lifting his head slightly when he saw me, but immediately laying back down. Dominic sat at the counter, eating a plate of eggs and toast, a mug of what I assumed was coffee in his free hand. He wore his pajamas still. Sophie, her blonde hair falling in loose waves, was already dressed for the day, wearing a button-up and a pair of boyfriend jeans. Across from them, a mug of coffee in her hands, stood a beautiful woman. Clearly a resident of La Push, she resembled my mom in her russet-colored, bronzed skin, her ink black locks fashioned in a sleek ponytail. She wore little makeup except red lipstick and abruptly stopped talking as she saw me walk through the entryway.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say you were Brenda herself," the woman observed.

I stood there, slightly taken aback at her comment, unsure of how to respond. Luckily, I didn't have to.

Sophie added, "Alba, this is your mom's childhood friend, Iris. She knew your parents really well back in the day."

"It's nice to meet you." I smiled, walking closer to the group. I always found it awkward when people acted like they knew you because they know someone else close to you. I hoped she wasn't one of those who expected me to act like she was family.

"Technically, we met when you were a baby, but of course you don't remember that." Iris paused then, her expression changing to one that I came to recognize over the course of her father's passing. "I spoke with your father before he died. He told me you were coming back to Washington to live with your aunt. I only wished I could have been there to say goodbye. Your parents—they were dear to me. Your mother was like my own sister."

I nodded, as always finding it difficult to respond in such situations. A hard lump formed in my throat. Despite the preparation and the knowledge that death would come for my father, it never made it easier to think about it. The worst had passed, but every day came with struggle. Besides, knowing this woman was close to my mom almost made me feel jealous, that someone I barely knew got more time with her than I did.

Iris reached across the counter where we stood diagonal and patted my hand affectionately. "Don't worry, honey, you don't have to say anything. In fact, that's not why I came here in the first place." She set down the mug of coffee, then continued, "I live on the reservation with my husband and my two sons, Jared and James. We would love for you and your brother to come over sometime for dinner. Tonight, even. Jared and a few of his friends are coming, and I always cook for a whole brood. Teenage boys—you wouldn't believe the appetite on them. Of course, you and your husband are invited, too, Sophie."

"That's so nice of you, Iris. Well—we don't have any plans," said Sophie.

"It would be good for Theo to meet some friends his own age," Dominic agreed.

The three collectively looked at me for approval.

I nodded. "Sounds great." Not that it seemed like much of a choice for me anyway.

"Perfect! How does five-thirty sound? Sophie, I'll message you my address. It's not ten minutes from here."

Once Iris left, I sat down to eat some breakfast. Some time later, Theo descended from his bedroom, his dark hair messily splayed atop his head, wearing mismatched pajamas.

Dominic had left to take Finn for a walk, so it was me and Sophie at the counter, talking about Iris.

"Want some eggs?" offered Sophie, pointing to the plate of eggs leftover near the stove.

Theo shook his head. "You got cereal or something?"

"In the cupboard to the left of the fridge," she replied, pointing.

My brother took out a box of Trix and poured himself a heaping bowl, along with milk. He chose to sit next to me, spooning the sugary cereal into his mouth rather quickly.

"So, your parent's old friend stopped by this morning," Sophie started, looking at Theo. "She invited us to their house for dinner, in La Push. She has a son your age."

Theo wrinkled his face in displeasure, his spoon paused halfway. "No, thanks."

I rolled my eyes, exchanging familiar glances with my aunt.

"It's not that big a deal. Besides, you might make some friends." Sophie grinned at her nephew, trying to convince him. His face remained blank. "Come on, Theo—it's not like you actually have to be friends with them. Would it kill you to go? And I'll...I don't know, you'll get something in return."

This last statement caught my brother's interest. Anything he did was purely self-motivated. If he got something as a result, that almost guaranteed his commitment. "Promise me I don't have to go to school for the rest of the year and you got a deal," he bargained, smirking.

I smacked his arm.

Sophie sighed. "That's not an option. A new game for your Xbox or something, maybe..."

Theo seemed to consider this for a moment, taking his time to chew and swallow his theory.

Smart ass. If I were Sophie, I'd tell him he had no choice. He was the kid, after all. I knew Sophie tried to be as accommodating as possible, considering what he'd been through. She didn't want to make an enemy out of him; I couldn't blame her too much.

"I'll consider it," he finally answered.

Sophie sighed, satisfied enough with that.

I, on the other hand, could sense that she really wanted to make a good impression with Iris, for whatever reason, so I brought out the big guns.

With a soft voice I nudged him with my elbow. "Come on, Theo. Think how much it would mean to Mom."

I saw the flash of guilt cross his face. Granted, it was kind of messed up of me, knowing what I knew. Theo had a soft spot for guilt trips related to Mom. Since she died during childbirth, he had the notion that her death was his fault, despite the insistence from my father that it was merely an unrelated and unknown medical condition that caused it. My brother was stubborn, though, and, as my aunt and uncle said, it would be good for him to socialize a little bit.

Purely good intentions, I swear.

"Fine," he grumbled. Finishing off the last of his cereal, he pushed back the chair and put the dirty bowl in the sink, sulking back upstairs to disappear until later that night.

"Alba, you have to teach me how to do that."

AN: You got through the first chapter! I know it's a lot of set up and stuff, but bare with me. I hope that you all liked it. In the next chapter, we will meet a lot of the wolves and introduce all the fun characters we (I lol) know and love. Please REVIEW. Tell me if you liked it, loved it, hated it, or anything in between. Constructive criticism welcome. If I see interested readers, I will be even more motivated to continue.

XOXO