Summary: Samantha Huntley moves to Forks, Washington to an aunt's house after an unfortunate event took place in her life. She clearly disliked moving across the country leaving behind two best friends with one whom she knew needed her and the other undoubtedly obsessed about the Twilight Saga which Samantha absolutely loathed. So what happens when she becomes face to face with people having the same names and characteristics as in the fictional story?

Samantha soon becomes suspicious that all is not right with the Twilight Universe and the world on the outside of it.

First and foremost, what is up with the nervous police chief in Samantha's presence? Secondly, the obsessed friend is in a meltdown back home from the missing memorabilia in her room and no one recalls ever reading or watching anything pertaining to Stephanie Meyer's bestseller Twilight. And thirdly, Samantha tries to escape the twilight zone several times, but there are supernatural vices literally standing in her way.

*******************~ o ~ O ~ C ~ O ~ o ~***********************

Disclaimer: I am NOT Stephenie Meyer and I don't own any of the Twilight series' characters or stories. No Copyright Infringement intended.

Important: My original characters come out to play with Stephenie's. And Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series characters will stay as they are but with any FF sometimes it hard to get it exactly right. With that being said, there have been a few relation changes to fit in with this plot. Canon Couples Except for one.

This is a Saga and guess estimated over 400,000 words. It will all be posted here.

Although it's science fiction, it's mostly realistic. There are two characters that use tobacco underage. This does change. Some people find it unnerving or appalling. However, the characters do beat the habit! The 'F' word is used during stressing times. It's not obsessively throughout. This story has a strong plot and I'm very proud of it. And yes, it's is my own idea with no outside help.

This page will be split in two parts; Prologue & Chapter One. Revised by Momma Love 2/14/13

Please vist Corineabella's profile page. There are links to a video & a fan page.

Prologue

'Clump'

My eyes flashed open to view the back of a wide blue seat. Whatever the sound was, it had startled me from a nap.

Was the plane crashing?

In my panic, my hands grabbed the armrests on either side of me as the plane descended downward slightly. I shut my eyes as tight as I could. There was no point in looking around to find any other matching faces of horror that would surely make me scream out the bubbling fear arising in my chest.

I never should have trusted my aunt when she suggested flying to Seattle. So many things could go wrong while in the air; from the planes malfunction to a high-jacking. The terrorist's attack on 9/11 briefly flashed behind my eyelids and consumed my mind.

Perspiration began forming on my forehead. Renting a car to drive almost three thousand miles to me felt safer, but traveling for four to five days had seem unappealing. I should know because I had traveled to Montana and back recently.

A soft touch rested on top of my left hand; a hand that had gone completely numb at the knuckles from holding the armrest too tightly. I felt my aunt lean on my shoulder and she whispered soothingly into my ear, "Sammie, it's just the landing gear. We'll be landing shortly."

Before I could even open my eyes to trust her explanation for the noise and descent, I sat there for a few seconds, simply listening to the sounds inside of the plane. There were no screams or any other inclination of them falling from the sky. Muffled conversations surrounded us in buoyancy for our approaching destination.

Surely if we were heading for disaster, nobody would be carefree about it.

My aunt laughed when I jerked my head in her direction, hesitantly opening my eyelids. As I locked my eyes with her golden hazels, a frown deepened onto my face, eventually turning into a scowl. How could she be laughing at my fright? I didn't know her well enough to reprove her. It's only been three weeks, but in that short time frame I knew she wasn't like my mother at all.

With the laughter gone, her smile faded into a frown of its own. She removed her hand from mine to my upper arm, shaking it slightly. I averted my eyes to the other passengers as she began speaking in a hushed tone without really being able to see their faces.

"You were so out of it that you didn't hear the captain on the intercom or the stewardess telling you to put on your seat-belt. I took it upon myself to buckle it. Even then, that didn't wake you. Did you get any sleep last night?" She asked. In her voice, I could tell she was desperate for conversation. But most of all, she was deeply worried about me. Not because I had been frightened that our plane might be falling into pieces. Though, that would have been the icing to all our troubles or the end of them.

No, it was the lack of sleep and appetite since the funeral.

"Sorry, Aunt Maggie." I managed to say whilst looking down at the buckled seat-belt and putting my clammy hands in my lap. Then I added, "And thank you. For everything" And I truly meant it with all sincerity.

As my aunt nodded, she leaned away and began looking out the small window. I wiped the sweat from my hands onto my faded blue jeans. At the knees, my ivory skin peeked out from the rips in the fabric. It reminded me of the small argument we had before leaving the motel in Atlanta.

I sighed heavily as guilt nearly swallowed me whole.

Earlier that morning, I told my aunt she wasn't going to replace my mother by telling me my clothes were "undesirable". I refused to change into twenty-something business style outfit that she had bought for me specifically for this trip and also made it clear to not ever again nag me about my choices in fashion. The distress that overcame her facial features then has not wavered any from my mind since.

In all honestly, I wanted to make her somewhat happy again. But for the life of me, I couldn't find what was so wrong with a yellow tank top and faded blue jeans. I knew the holes at the knees where the problem, but I disliked the binding feeling over my knees in the Levi's and other than the color of the tank top, it was always my apparel.

For nine months throughout the year, I had to wear button-up blouses and skirts to Sumter Academy. I hated it with such passion that as soon as I stepped through the front door of our house, I started yanking them off as I made my way towards my bedroom without really bothering to care who saw.

It was a hopeless situation to stay in those clothes any longer than I had too. As long as I got good grades and maintained good behavior at school, my mother never once complained about what I wore while I was away from the establishment, so why did my aunt have to?

The wheels of the plane skidded on the tarmac bringing me back to the present. I said a silent prayer thanking the Lord for landing us safely, even though I was upset with Him. Although, my mother and I had attended a Baptist church regularly throughout my sixteen years, I wouldn't say I had been a complete fan.

Since the unfortunate event that has happened in my life, the faith I once had has been tested to a point where I may never walk into another church ever again. In any case, I still believe in prayers whether they reach Him or not. It just gave me comfort to do so.

"Samantha, are you okay?" Aunt Maggie asked.

Suddenly, I realized the plane had come to a full stop. It had already taxied to the gate. The pretty stewardess stood in the aisle smiling down at me with a small compact suitcase on wheels waiting for me behind her. We were in first class and I became mortified at the thought of holding up anyone to get off the plane due to the lack of my attention.

Instead of answering my aunt, I tried to stand but the seat-belt held me in place. I felt my face turned a crimson red as I unbuckled it and finally stood.

"Here, Sammie." My aunt said as she handed me my tote containing my laptop among other personal items. I could not look at her as I took it and began making my way towards the exit without looking back at her knowing she became once again, concerned.

As the first set of coach passengers came into view, they gave me a look of disgust. Aunt Maggie may want to believe it was my choices in clothes, but aggravation was clear on their facial features. I gave them a weak smile in hopes of an apology. Besides, it wasn't my idea to sit in first class. It was hers

Entering the lobby, my aunt had grabbed my hand. I guess me being absentminded on the plane she didn't want to take the chance of me getting lost in the crowd.

Someone had called her name from afar and we made our way over to where a Native American woman stood smiling at our arrival. She seemed to be in her middle ages, like my aunt. The slender woman, a few inches below my height of five' seven, has the most striking, shinning, black hair I had ever seen and the entire length is braided down to her hips. There is no doubt in my mind that they were friends when Aunt Maggie let go of my hand to embrace the woman with open arms.

"Welcome home, Maggie." The woman spoke with pure and utter kindness.

As they pulled apart, my aunt reached for my hand again. "Thank you so much for coming all this way to pick us up." She glanced at me and gestured to her friend with her free hand. "This is my niece, Samantha. Samantha this is my best friend, Allison Uley."

Why couldn't my aunt introduce me as Sammie? Ugh! And I'm not a five year old where she needs to hold my hand. I swiftly take my hand back, settling it on the strap, joining the other hand that is holding my leather tote on my shoulder. I made it seem like I needed it. I thought she would give me a fretful look, but all she did is sigh.

"It's nice to meet you, Samantha." Allison ignores our small exchange and blinks her wide brown eyes encased by thick eyelashes at me. She is pretty and has a sweet voice.

"It's nice to meet you as well. My friends call me Sammie." I said politely. She nods and smiles.

"Well, shall we go retrieve the luggage and hit the road?" Allison asked. My aunt nods in response.

"Yes. I'm ready to get home." Aunt Maggie said pensively and then begins to promenade to baggage claims as Allison joins in the pace beside her. My aunt looks over her shoulder to make sure I'm following, and unenthusiastically, I am.

I kept my gaze downward most of the way there as my aunt and her friend chatted about life in general. I had no desire to either speak or join in the topics that came up. Every now and then, my aunt would touch my arm to make sure I was alert and not completely lost in my thoughts. I tried to keep my mind empty for her sake so I wouldn't end up somewhere I shouldn't be even though all I wanted to do was disappear anyway.

Four suitcases, three soda pops, two chattering best friends, and one annoyed teenager, we were on the road to Forks in my aunts silver Lexus SUV. It took forever for our luggage to make an appearance and when they did, one had been misplaced. It was the most important one of them all, carrying precious memories of my mother. Mostly it contained photo albums that are irreplaceable and sentimental to me.

The lady that spoke for the airlines at the luggage podium reassured us I would receive my suitcase in less than forty eight hours. Someone had made an error and put it on another plane going to Forks, Arizona. I had been surprised to learn there were so many towns in America named after a utensil.

I sat in the back with my arms crossed looking out the window at the heavy traffic on the interstate wishing I was back in Americus, Georgia. I blew out the air from my lungs and caught the attention of my aunt.

"Sammie, look at me." Aunt Maggie is driving and demanded for me to look at her in the rear view mirror. Reluctantly, I did as she asked.

"Please stop worrying, honey. We'll get it back. Why don't you lie down and take another nap. We still have several hours before we reach La Push." As Aunt Maggie spoke, every few seconds, she would glance at the road then back into the mirror at me.

I raised my eyebrows at this knowledge. "La Push?" I asked inquisitively.

Aunt Maggie's ringlets on the tips of her short auburn hair began to quiver from her nervousness. It was somewhat a behavior that I became aware of when things weren't going smoothly during the weeks in preparation for my move to her house. She was extremely anxious. I didn't know if it was because of the heavy traffic or if she thought I may start crying over this forgotten detail.

"Yes. It's an Indian reservation about fifteen minutes away from Forks by the ocean. Allison lives there." She explained.

"Oh." is all I say. I knew of La Push. It just reminded me of Elizabeth's ramblings about the town. Not so much the location but where the fictional werewolves live in her favorite story.

I laid down in hopes my aunt would calm down. She is making me nervous too, simply by watching her body language. Wrecking the car, resulting in someone getting hurt or killed, was the last thing either one of us needed now. I reached in my leather tote and pulled out my iPod. It didn't take me long to find the playlist that I wanted and put the ear buds in to escape the thoughts I knew were on the verge of breaking through at any moment.

With the music playing softly, I began to think of my best friend, Libby. We have been almost inseparable since we met at school on the playground during recess in the first grade. In elementary, every event and season, I don't remember a time without her. Overtime, her parents became like a surrogate mom and dad to me through the years. I often went on summer vacations with them when my mother, the professor, had classes to teach. I was going to miss her and her parents a great deal and regretted not spending this past summer with them in Hawaii.

But, no one could have predicted the fatal car accident that took my mother's life in an instant. In some sense, the universe had prepared me a little for the separation.

When Libby and I became fourteen, we volunteered at Habitat for Humanity during the summer months building houses in New Orleans. At fifteen, we became cadets for the junior police program training in Atlanta. But this past summer, I did an internship at a wildlife ranch in Montana as an assistant veterinarian without my best friend beside me. I had truly enjoyed myself even though I missed home. Within a few days of being back, and preparing for the upcoming school year, the unfortunate event happened.

As much as Libby cried about me moving to Washington, she was excited that I was going to live where her favorite fictional story evolved. She couldn't wait for next summer to visit me and had a countdown gadget on her laptop, counting down the days.

The Twilight Saga is the only thing we didn't share the same enthusiasm for. I had neither qualms about it nor enough inquisitiveness to read into such. Even after hearing my best friend go on and on about the love triangle between Edward, Bella and Jacob. Therefore, why read it when Libby told me everything I needed to know. By the time the movies hit the theaters, I refused to go see them with her. Some best friend I was, but I simply felt nauseated of the idea of sitting in a dark theater watching the story unfold.

In the light of moving thousands of miles away and living exactly where the fictional stories took place, I relented to read all four books when she gave them to me as a going away present. Not until then, did I feel guilty for not participating in reading or watching those movies with her. I made a promise that when she came to visit, we would explore the places in the books and the movies. She promised to bring the movies to watch. So I had no choice but to read them before next summer.

That is if I get my suitcase back.

Those books were probably in Arizona along with the photo albums instead of in the trunk where they should be. Tears were flowing down over my cheeks and dripping off my chin. I hadn't realized I'd been crying all this time. I swiftly swiped them away with the heel of my palms. Allison might glance back to discover me weeping and alert my aunt.

Another plea for me to talk about my feelings was so not what I needed from Aunt Maggie. I desperately needed my space and time away from her constant worry for my well-being. By all means, I do understand her unease. Depression is common in teenagers who have lost a parent or a loved one. It's expected but sometimes teenagers believe suicide is the answer to relive the pain. So I clearly understand her concern about my lack of appetite and sleeping a lot, worried that I may slip into a clinical depression. And although she is a high school teacher and has been around teenagers for many years, she has never lived with one, especially as gloomy as me as of late.

However, I am not a normal teenager. I had only one parent who worked all the time so therefore I spent a lot of time by myself until Jessie came along. Mostly I did the cooking, and cleaning. On Saturdays we went shopping for groceries, but it was I who actually did the shopping.

Olivia Huntley always had her blackberry in her hand or up to her ear. The only time my mother wasn't texting or talking on the phone had been at church or when she was at her desk in her room grading papers. I even made sure the bills were paid by filling out checks and getting her signature to send them off in the mail. Or we wouldn't have cable or lights.

My mother gave love and attention in the best way when she could. She worked hard to put food on the table and a roof over our heads and paid the high tuition at Sumter Academy for a better education for me. Yes, the professor did care for me even when it seemed her work came before me.

It's just sad I never got around to asking her about my father and where he was. I thought I'd have that time before I went to college to approach her with those kinds of questions. Since she never mentioned him, and there were no pictures of any men in our photos, I presumed the topic was highly sensitive.

In the past three weeks, I have wanted to ask my aunt many times if she knew who my father was. I just couldn't find the courage. On the birth certificate it reads that my father is unknown and my birth place is Forks, Washington. The address listed where my mother was living at the time of my birth is the same as my aunts now.

School has already begun at the reservation where my aunt taught, which she has to go to the day after tomorrow. Forks High School didn't start for another week. I started to formulate a plan to snoop around the house for five days in my aunt's absence on a search of my father without having to ask her. There has to be something to lead me in the right direction. Evidence of who he was, at least. I am hoping to find a photo or a letter containing his existence somewhere. I'd hate to learn I was a child from a rape, but nonetheless I need to know. It is the only thing keeping me from going insane with the loss of my mother.

Thankfully, a new school year was about to begin. Though I wasn't too pleased to start a new school on the other side of the country or interested in making new friends. I'm not sure I'll even fit into any groups because I didn't at Sumter Academy. But of course the students there came from wealthy parents. Libby was my only friend as everyone else saw me as an outsider. She had other friends who sat with us at lunch sometimes but they never spoke to nor paid any attention to me. Just as well, I didn't like them or their attitudes anyway.

My only other friend lived next door and went to the public school. We became friends three years ago when his dad had too much to drink one night and needed a safe place to stay. My mother wanted to call the police but Jessie begged her not too because he didn't want to go back into foster care. He explained that his dad only gets drunk around the time when his mother had been raped and murdered four years ago. In the beginning, his dad had lost custody for a few weeks on neglecting to care for him when depression took a hold of his dad's mind. He said his experience in the foster home had been a lot worse. He had been beaten on a daily basis and didn't trust the system to be taken away again.

Jessie had welts on his arms and legs from his dad's belt, but he said it was nothing compared to the broken bones he suffered at the hands of his foster father. It was sad all the way around though and made my mother mad; she told Jessie he was welcomed at our house anytime. So after that first night, he became like the brother I never had and the son my mother always wanted. I think if my mother could have afforded it, she would have sent him to Sumter Academy along with me.

The last few weeks had been really hard for Jessie as well. His eyes and nose mirrored mine. They were red and swollen. Libby would try to lighten the mood by calling us the Rudolf the Reindeer twins. Before I left, I confided in her about my worries for Jessie. Where was he going to stay when his dad became drunk around the anniversary of his mother's murder? How was he going to get food to eat if his dad forgets to buy groceries? But most of all, what was to become of him if he followed through on his threat to quit school after my mother's death?

Libby had no definite answers for me. However, she did promise me that she would keep in contact with him. And I had to have faith she would keep it. I have hopes in finding a job to send him money when he needs it and to save up enough to fly him out with Libby next summer. Jessie will be sixteen soon so maybe he could find him a job too. It sure would ease my mind if he did and stayed in school and out of harm's way. Surely, I'm going to miss him the most.

I have to stop thinking so much. My head aches from the constant tears streaming down my face. I need to shut down my mind and listen to the soft piano music playing through the ear buds. It should have already lulled me to sleep. I had no problems napping on the plane but that was because my aunt sat next to me and wouldn't be quiet. She carried on about how excited she was for me to be living with her.

Ugh! After a few minutes, I was still wide awake. My nose is stuffed up and my eyes feel like sandpaper. Frustrated, I took out the ear buds to eavesdrop on the two women chatting in the front seats. Hopefully it will be on a boring subject to make me sleepy.

"—disappeared for two weeks?" Aunt Maggie asks incredulously. Well, maybe not boring after all.

Allison sighs. "Yes. He hasn't said a word about where he was either. I hear people whisper on the reservation accusing him of using steroids. His girlfriend keeps nagging him to tell her what's going on with him, but Sam refuses and it only makes him angrier. Then he takes off back into the woods for hours at a time leaving Leah at the house for me to politely ask her to go home. I've already called Old Quil to come talk with him tomorrow." She replies in a distress tone.

"I'm almost certain that'll help him. However, Allie, I seriously doubt he's into drugs at all. Samuel has always been a good kid and he's a great student. It's probably just that growth spurt and the many changes growing into manhood that has him conflicted. And I wouldn't put much faith into what others say accusing him of abusing steroids. Honestly, I don't think you have anything to worry about." said my aunt reassuring her friend.

"Well, I hope you're right, Maggie. I worry so much about him and how it's affecting the twins." Allison said wiping her face which I suspect were fallen tears.

My aunt reaches over and pats her friends hand without speaking then returns her hand back to the steering wheel leaving the cab in unnerving quietness. Allison nods slightly looking out the passenger's window.

Upon closing my eyes, silence filled the air except for the hum of the engine. It must have lulled me to sleep because the next thing I'm aware of is my name being called. I open my eyes to the darkness that envelopes the cab of vehicle.

"We're home, Sammie. Come on, wake up." Aunt Maggie urges as she opens the door where my feet are resting. A cool breeze drifts in making me shiver.

Sitting up and blinking the sleep from my eyes, I ask, "What time is it?"

"Oh, um, I believe it's around nine, honey." Aunt Maggie replies. "I hope you'll sleep tonight. After all, you practically slept through the entire trip." She adds wistfully.

She left me in a daze walking towards the back of the vehicle as I thought, 'Wonderful, I'm going to experience jet-lag. Well at least tomorrow is a Sunday. Hopefully my aunt has no plans to do anything or go anywhere.'

"By the way, Libby called my cell after she repeatedly got your voice mail. I forgot to remind you to take your iPhone off air plane mode. It's midnight there now, but she said to call her A-Sap when you woke up." Aunt Maggie said through the lifted hatch as she was getting our luggage from the trunk. Because I was still sitting upright in the middle of the back seat and trying to the find strength to get out.

Oh snap. I was supposed to call Libby when we landed in Seattle. I got out and went to the back of the SUV, slung the tote over my shoulder and grabbed the two remaining suitcases and walked towards the two-story foundation that would be home for the next two years. Just freaking lovely.

~ o ~ O ~ C ~ O ~ o

Chapter One: Good Hearted Girl

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window as my eyes begin to flutter open. Blinking the sleep away, I finally glance at my new surroundings.

The queen sized white canopy bed, where I lay on my back, has tall ivory curtains flowing about at each of the four bedposts. A white leather padded bench sits at the foot with different designed pillows that have been decorated on the made bedding. Against the pine colored wall facing me is a tall white dresser. Off to my right side, a pure-white crib sits in front of the bay windows surrounded by pinkish curtains

'Why did Aunt Maggie leave it up after all these years?' I ponder briefly.

My thoughts drift to the other side of the room where a walk-in closet holds my mothers and even my baby clothes from our time here. It's obvious that my mother left Forks in a rush.

What was she running away from?

It's a lot to take in for a girl who just lost her mother and moved across the country to an aunt's house she barely knows.

In between the closet and the closed bedroom door sits an antique desk, painted in the whitest wood I've ever seen, where I placed my laptop last night in hopes of video chatting with Libby. I need to discuss my discoveries with her face to face. However, my aunt's modem apparently died leaving no other option but the cell phone.

Yawning, I reach for my iPhone sitting on the off-white fancy table next to my bed. Overwhelming sadness washes over my entire being as I glimpse at the wallpaper image of Libby, Jessie and me. Jessie's arms are draped around our shoulders smiling into the camera right before I left. Heavily sighing, I read the time... 10:04am. I lay the cell back onto the nightstand.

I get up, uncovering myself from the beautiful quilt, turning my rear towards the right side of the bed and placing my feet on the cool wooden floor. It feels uncomfortable sleeping on the left side, where the entrance of the room happens to be, because I know, in another life, my mother had slept on that side. I stretch my arms up over my head. My joints pop. It felt really good to sleep in the luxurious bed beneath me regardless of who had before. To halt any thoughts about my mom, I got up, lifting the blankets and dressing the bed with its designed pillows, arranging them as they had been the night before.

Meanwhile, I think of what we were going to do today. I'm not one to sit around the house and do nothing even though I felt jet-lagged. Sleeping throughout the trip had been a bad idea. Gratefully, Aunt Maggie gave me a small pill to help me relax and sleep. I should be more appreciative towards her.

During my call with Libby last night, I managed to unpack my suitcases so I trudge over to the dresser to pick out my usual apparel. I hope my aunt's not going to have a problem with me dressing in my ragged blue jeans for school since there isn't a uniform to wear. I retrieve a black tank top and a pair of faded Levi's and head towards the bathroom in the hall that I'll be sharing with Aunt Maggie until I graduate from Forks High. No doubt with honors.

At least the bathroom's next to my bedroom. It's wide and lengthy with more of the glossy pine painted on the walls. A vast mirror hangs above the double sinks and cabinets. I had placed my toiletries in the drawer and underneath the pristine counter the night before.

The reflection of me in the mirror could have been my mother twenty years ago. My jaded eyes seem greener then, like emeralds, or it could just be the color reflecting off the walls. My cheekbones are set slightly higher than most with a long, slim, nose and small, yet somewhat, thick rosy lips set on an oval face. Small ringlets of mahogany tresses dance about my shoulders. Sighing, it won't do me any good to brush the bed hair until I've shampooed and blow dried the curls back into a feathered position.

During a long hot shower, I mull over how I won't be able to fit in at Forks High simply because of my tanned skin. As I get dressed, I realize it was an unnecessary qualm. I open the door to discover my aunt's bedroom door down the hall is open. I shrug off the guilt for taking so long in the bathroom and descend the stairs that lead into the foyer.

As I reach the last few steps, I notice the front door's wide open and a glass covered screen is taking its place to stop any trespassers. I take a right in the small yet extended hallway. At the end is the entrance to the dining room. It opens up to the kitchen on the left side. However, the TV's on in the living room and it's between the front door and dinning room entrance. I stand in the doorway peering into the room at the pastel green painted walls. It's a sure bet that her favorite color is any shade of green.

My aunt is lounging across a mint cream green sofa. Her feet are propped up on the white coffee table and her eyes are shut. A recliner, the same shade of green as the sofa, sits next to the entryway with a white end table in between. A slightly large TV is suspended on the fore wall. Soft ivory curtains sway behind the furniture in front of bay windows. The side wall has two white triangular cabinets with mirrors at their backsides showcasing whatnots, sitting in the corners with a double window in between them.

"Sammie, how did you sleep?" My aunt asks as she stands, startling me.

It took a few moments to recover. I nod. She maneuvers around the couch to stand in front of me, putting her hand on my shoulder, looking worried.

"Did I scare you, honey?" I shake my head. "Well, why don't we get something to eat then?" She tried to encourage.

"That sounds good." I say as I follow her to the dining room entrance whilst glancing at the pictures on the wall.

Surprisingly most of them are of me, through the years.

As we enter, I pause, briefly, in front of the rather long oval table looking out the sliding glass doors. The huge back yard is bordered by a metal fence and I can see the forest along on the other side of it. But it wasn't the scenery of the redwoods or the all-too-green flora that caught my attention and held me in place.

It was the pale little girl with dark brown spiky hair that was standing at the edge of the forest staring at me. Her face is scrunched up in dismay, glistening in the sun, while the rest of her body is fully clothed in expensive attire.

'What the heck is she doing in the forest dressed like that?' I wonder.

After a few moments a large hand emerges, seemingly from nowhere, it also shimmers in the light of the sun as it pulls the glaring girl's arm into the shelter of the trees, both of them disappearing all together.

"Did you hear me, Sammie?" I hear my aunt ask.

"Um, no, sorry Aunt Maggie-" I pause, turning towards her. "-lost in my thoughts again."

She nods from behind a breakfast bar that had two oak bar-stools with a flower print padding seat covers. The fridge sits behind her and is in between white cabinets and cupboards, a recurring theme. More of the same is on the other wall with a window between them above the white spotless sink that showcases the back yard.

"I said I went to the grocery store earlier and bought some things you normally ate. Your pop tarts are in the toaster." My aunt tells me, holding up a saucer. "Well, since you only eat one I figured I'd eat the other one." She adds but I can see she regretted it as soon as the words left her lips. I usually give the other to Jessie.

Forcing a weak smile, I walk over to the side of the counter to where she stood and noticed the white stove hidden behind the breakfast bar when the toaster popped up. I sigh as the smell of warm, succulent, blueberry pastries floated into my nostrils. She places a pop tart on each of the saucers then points towards two full glasses of milk.

"Thank you, Aunt Maggie." I say, picking up one of the glasses and one of the saucers.

"You're welcome, sweetie." She says as I follow her to the oak dining table.

My aunt takes the end chair while I sit in the seat on the side next to her. It grants me a view of the back yard. This time the edge of the forest lacked the little girl.

We eat in silence.

As I chewed and looked outside, there were no eyes glaring at me. I believe I imagined the whole ordeal. No one glistens in the sun like that. Besides, the screen covering the sliding glass door. Something I hadn't noticed before and therefore, she couldn't see me to glare. But I have a feeling the little girl could, though I'm not sure why because I haven't been here long enough to make a friend nevertheless an enemy. And no one dresses in classy clothes for a hike in a forest. So on top of everything else, I am now hallucinating.

Just freakin' terrific.

"As I was saying before, it's Allison's birthday. I'm making her a cake to bring over. She's cooking a late lunch, you see." My aunt pauses when I looked at her. "You don't have to tag along." She shakes her head, causing her auburn ringlets to quiver, reassuring my fretfulness, "But, if you did, I could show you where the school and grocery store are located. Also, the ocean side of La Push, where First Beach is, isn't too far from her house." Of course she'd use a line with a sinker like that one.

I nod. "Cool." It's probably for the best that I go since I'm starting to see things that aren't there. I swallow the remainder of my milk.

Aunt Maggie stands from her seat and I mimic her by pushing in my chair. I start to pick up our dishes from the table when says, "Leave the dishes where they are, honey. I need to show you some things."

My eyes narrow as I did what she requested and watched her curiously as she walks over to the sliding glass door. I make my way to stand next to her. She points at a white wicker table that has two wicker rockers on either side of it. A clear glass ash tray sat on top of the table.

"You can smoke out there if it's not raining." She laments. I know another lecture is not far off in the future.

Then she turns and starts walking around the dining room table towards the small hallway that leads to the garage. "Come on Sammie."

My aunt pauses in between the doors of the half bathroom and garage. She turns around, smiling, as I halt a few feet away. "Just in case you forgot the tour from last night, there's a bathroom right here." She gestures towards said room then reaches for a set of keys by the garage door.

The tour ended here so when she opens the garage, I'm shocked to find that the space where a parked car should be is practically bursting with overflowing boxes, boxes that touch the ceiling and crammed against the fore wall. All this time, I assumed she had OCD, wanted everything to be perfect. It seems she's a closet pack rat. Who would've ever thought otherwise?

"Here's the other ashtray when it's raining." Aunt Maggie said as she points to a little ceramic dish on a small plank table.

Rain. It is the only thing I'm going to appreciate being here, I thought. I look further into the garage. That's when I notice another parking space behind her and it isn't empty. I was too distracted by the mountain of boxes looming over me to pay attention to anything else. I peek past Aunt Maggie at the glossy black car.

"Wow!" I comment loudly.

"It was your mother's." She holds out the keys for me to take from her spot by the passenger's door. "It's rightfully yours now."

I walk over to her and give her a snug hug. "Thank you, Aunt Maggie." I whisper lovingly in her ear before pulling away from the embrace.

"Well, you do need transportation, after all. So this is appropriate. It's a 1977 Trans-Am. Besides, your mother would want you to have it." Her voice cracks a bit and her eyes become misty.

Before she could say anything else to turn me into a babbling mess, I take the keys and head over to the driver's side enthusiastically. Upon unlocking and opening the car door, I sit inside and reach over to unlock the passenger door for Aunt Maggie to get in.

There is something familiar about the smell inside the car. At first I couldn't distinguish what it was but then after a moment of inhaling in the scent, it saturates deeply into my nostrils. It smells like the flavor of grape bubble gum, exactly how my mother's breathe used to be when she was alive.

I remind myself not to let go of the memories but for now I wouldn't dwell on the fact my mother is gone. I have to before tears begin to flow. I breathe and inspect the inside. Aunt Maggie pushes a button on the sun visor above me. Light from the outside pours into the garage as the noisy metal door opened. The inside, as well as the outside, of my mom's car, is in mint condition.

My aunt clears her throat loudly to get my attention. "Well, I got to put frosting on the cake and wrap Allison's present." She says as she opens her door. I nod, but a thought came to mind almost immediately.

"Wait. Do you mind if you showed me the way to the store first? I'd like to pick up some green tomatoes and fry them for Allison's birthday." I remember yesterday at the terminal she said she'd love to try them when my aunt told her how great I am at cooking southern foods.

A guilty look flashes across her features before she spoke. "Well about that. I already bought some from a friend this morning. You cannot get green tomatoes in our one grocery store and I thought you'd like to cook some soon." She explains. I smile.

"Well then I say let's get this party started, Aunt Maggie."

We both laugh while getting out of the car. She puts her arm over my shoulder as we head inside.

"You're such a good hearted girl, Sammie."

~o ~ O ~C ~ O ~ o~

***************Please don't forget to leave a review************

ATTENTION: Each revised chapter will say "Revised" at top of the page!

Dedication to Momma Love; I want to take the time to appreciate a lovely lady for revising this chapter. She is an awesome editor and a wonderful person. She accepted to work with me & "AGITS" with much enthusiasm and has dedicated herself in bringing out the best in me and the story. She's working hard behind the scenes to get all grammar errors corrected throughout the 24 chapters already posted. So thank you so much (Momma Love) for saving the "Glitches"! xx

Her review is below;

Corineabella,

I'm really liking Sammie's story! And I'm digging the mystery girl! Just the right amount of ominous without suffocating us! Brava!

xoxo, Momma Love