My Goodness! It has beeen AGES! AGES I SAY! Lol, but hello out there! I am finally writing another Twilight Edward/OC Fanfic. To those of you who have read my other Twilight fanfic, you might see some similar ideas between the two here and there, but hopefully not too much lol. But yeah, I feel as though I should write more...but I don't feels like it XP

Before you read I would like to inform you of a few things:

1) OK, so I HATE the movies. I used to love them, but I hate them so much now. I am not as obsessed as I used to be lol. And the movies ruined the character of Bella for me. Kristin Stewart cannot act, I hate her as Bella...so yeah. There might be some Bella bashing, but not for a while. I will try to keep it to a minium, because the Bella in the books is better than the movies.

2) I am changing a few things about vampires here... after becoming a TrueBlood fan...my God the Twilight Vampires look pu$$y-rific. Sorry. (Eric Northman 3). So, the vampires can bleed but heal up right away kind of like in TrueBlood, but their skin is still marble hard, the only way to kill a vampire is my tearing themn apart and/or burning them... oh, and they need fangs, even if it's a little. Vampires have to have fangs. And I will be making fun of the sparkling :)

3) Jacob becomes a werewolf sooner than he does in the series...

4) I am sticking more to the books than the movies.

5) And if any of my information about France is wrong, let me know. (I'm kind of half a$$ing the research XP)

6) And as always, constructive critisim is welcomed, flamers - get the fck out - and yeah. Review if you want more chapters. The Chapters stop when the reviews stop :)

I've never been too far outside my hometown of Toulon, France let alone on a plane heading to a whole other country. Am I nervous? Mm…no, can't say I am, however I do tend to get delayed emotions, so it'll probably hit me later on. Emile and I sit in the airport, waiting for my flight to be called; my backpack and violin case by my feet. "Are you excited to see your mother?" Emile asks me in English. He insisted on us speaking strictly English since America is where I will be living from now until… whenever. I sigh as I pick the lint off of my sweatshirt.

"It would be natural and logical for me to say yes, wouldn't it? Normal…" Emile laughs and strokes my head. I love his laugh, it always warms me up from the inside out, so beautiful.

"Yes, I suppose it would, but you were never a normal child sweetheart." My stomach lurches uncomfortably. Great, because being considered abnormal when traveling to live in a new town in a whole new country is very encouraging. I look at Emile when I feel his gaze upon me. I know him well enough to wait for him to say something. "You do know that your father would be here to send you off if he didn't have work." I return to my people watching. It has always been the same, Dad always working, never home, Emile telling me he would be there, he would do that if he wasn't working, but that's the thing, he is always working.

"I know," My eyes follow two young women, definitely tourists, and by the size of their luggage they are just arriving. The Asian one stares at Emile as her blonde friend giggles. Emile follows my gaze curiously locking eyes with the dark haired Asian who smiles flirtatiously at him. He smiles back at her politely. "You're so mean," I mutter. Emile is a very handsome man at the age of thirty-seven with a perfect tan, strong muscular body, sandy blonde hair pulled into a ponytail at the base of his neck, baby blue eyes, clean shaven, a dazzling smile…

"What?" he chuckles, "I am simply smiling; Am I not allowed to smile?" …and completely oblivious to his charm and natural good looks. Perhaps this is what made my father fall in love with him? It is difficult to resist Emile's… Emile-ness.

"You encourage that woman by a mere smile," Emile puts his arm around my shoulder and naturally I lean into him.

"Amoureux," he whispers the pet name he calls me, "Try not to be jealous, you know that I am a one woman man and you my dear, are that one woman," that liquid-y, gooey, warmth that emits from my core engulfs me again. Such a charmer my stepfather is. I close my eyes and relax further into his secure arms. Emile's tenderness makes me want to never leave France, never leave my home, him, my best friend, or even my father. "Remember to call me every day, alright?"

"Nope," I never talk on the phone much; I do not like it, so remembering to call Emile everyday to talk? Not happening.

"Every other day?"

"No,"

"Once a week. You must call me once a week, I refuse to have it any other way."

"Alright," I inhale his scent, committing it to memory, "but if I don't call by Friday night of each week then you have to call me,"

"Yes ma'am," I can hear the smile in his voice.

Grey. So very grey. And cold. So very, very cold. I find my two suitcases and pull them off of the conveyer belt with difficulty, nonetheless I manage to do so. Struggling with all of my baggage I navigate my way to where the taxis, buses, and cars are all dropping off and picking up people. So here I am, Forks, Washington, United States of America beginning to wonder why I left sunny, warm Toulon for grey, wet, and cold Forks. Why did I leave? I rub my face as I sit on my largest suitcase, waiting for my mother to come and get me. I haven't seen my mother since I moved with my father to France when I was eight years old immediately after their divorce. I haven't even talked her in eight years. Apparently Emile has, since he told me she has a husband and two children now. I wonder how long they've been in contact for, how much information was traded and so on and so forth.

I cover my mouth as I yawn. Does it surprise me she's not here? Not really, no. I don't remember much of my mother, besides the constant arguing with my father, but there is one thing I distinctly remember, she was always very… spastic.

Thirty-three minutes pass before my mother comes and picks me up. At first I didn't recognize her, the mother I knew had shoulder length auburn hair with green eyes. The second thing that I remember about my mother is her auburn hair that I always found so lovely. It flowed and shimmered and always kept people guessing her natural color; was it more red than brown or more brown than red? However, this woman, that pulls up the car, gets out and runs up to hug me with tears already streaming down her cheeks, is not the mother I knew. First off this woman is blonde, platinum blonde all the way down her back with her roots just beginning to show. Second, this woman is a stick, honestly borderline anorexic thin. The mother I knew wasn't skinny, but not fat at all. She had glorious curves, the same curves she passed on to me, sort of. My mother was tall so the curves looked proportional, but on me, not so much. I just look stocky since I'm short at 5'3".

"Oh! Lily! Look at you!" she squeals as she squeezes me with her bone arms. "You've grown so much! Am I late? When did your flight get in?"

"A few minutes ago," I lie easily knowing that I will avoid a long, complicated, and tiresome explanation as to why she was thirty-three minutes late. The third and final thing I remember vividly about Amelia, my mother, is her voice. The sound itself isn't annoying or anything, but she talks in such great lengths and elaborates everything that after awhile of her nonstop speaking, I always feel exasperated and out of breath myself.

"Oh good! I was so worried that I was late! Here, let's put your bags in the car," I grab the two heaviest ones; I don't think she is capable of lifting them, her arms might snap off! Once my bags are put away into the trunk or the back seat we get in and pull away from the airport. "Oh Lily, you are going to love it here in Forks! I cannot wait for you to meet your new father and sisters!"

"Step,"

"What?"

"Step," I repeat while I still stare out of the passenger side window. Things here seem so dreary. "As in New Stepfather and Stepsisters," I need to establish titles right away. I really do not need to get confused while talking about my many family members.

"Hm, well, actually, Lily," I glance at her, she seems giddy, "One of them is your blood sister!"

"Oh," I turn back to the window. A half sister, what do you know…

"So your Stepfather – "

"New," now she glances at me with a strange confused look before looking back to the wet road; I sigh, "As in New Stepfather. I think of Emile when you say simply Stepfather." I look over at her but I suddenly find myself back tracking, her eyes were beginning to water but nowhere near for them to start falling "It'll just be easier for me to identify them this way, it won't be so confusing,"

"Alright," she says hesitantly,

"Yeah, it is just my process," I watch as her face relaxes a bit more. I suppress a sigh.

"I understand. So you will be starting your junior year of high school at Forks High on Tuesday. Your sister, stepsister," she corrects herself, "and I went shopping for your notebooks and anything you would need for school…" I must admit, I do appreciate her making an effort to follow my 'process'.

We pull into her driveway and she cuts the engine. I begin to get out when I notice she doesn't even move. I sit back in the seat and wait. After a few minutes of a very pregnant silence she opens her mouth, "Has your father heard anything from Acelin?" She asks with her eyes planted sadly on the steering wheel. I cringe and look into my lap.

Acelin (Ah Se Lin), better known as Ace (American pronunciation), is my brother who is four years my senior. After the divorce we both went to live with my father, Durand, and after two years of that Ace opted to try living with my mother; him and my father fought just about if not more than Amelia and Durand had. Another two years and he couldn't handle living with her either so he was forced back to live with Durand and I. He was sixteen when he finally ran away.

"No," I answer truthfully. My father hasn't heard from Ace, but I have, quite frequently I might add. I make my escape and exit the car. The air even smells cold.

"Mommy!" I momentary look up as I walk around the back of the car to the trunk to see a girl about, oh, between nine to twelve years old run up to Amelia and hug her in a crushing embrace. I stopped calling my parents mommy or daddy when I was five.

After a huge argument between my parents and my brother, Ace had come into my room and slammed the door. Why he didn't go into his own room I don't think I will ever know but he came into my room and began pacing vigorously, like a caged tiger. I was in my captains bed (one of those beds with dresser draws underneath it and there is a ladder to get to the top part of the bed) reading, or at least looking at the pictures of a book with the light on a shelf on. I didn't say or ask anything. It wasn't like I was afraid of the pacing tiger in my room, I just simply let the furious creature walk out its frustration. At one point he just stopped moving and was standing next to my bed, his body so tense. I leaned over and touched his shoulder. "Why were mommy and daddy yelling at you?" I had asked. He clenched his fists and tears ran down his cheeks. That was the first time I had ever seen him cry, the last too. "Mommies and Daddies don't yell at their babies, Lil-Lil. Mommies and Daddies love their babies. Those two aren't my Mommy and Daddy," his words sliced through me; claws, teeth, fangs. After the initial shock had worn off, I tugged on his T-Shirt and when he looked up at me his normally bright green eyes were cloudy with pain and anger. I motioned for him to come into the bed with me. Once he crawled in with me, I pulled the blanket over us and shut off my light. I held his hand and the words had came out of my mouth before I knew it, "You don't need a Mommy or a Daddy. You only need a Lil-Lil."

"John help Lily get her bags out of the car," Amelia says while still smothering her daughter with her bones. A few seconds later my New Stepfather, John walks over to me and takes the luggage from me with a smile and disappears into the house I presume. I walk around the car again to retrieve my violin and backpack from the back seat. I get them out and walk near Amelia who is now holding an infant in her arms. "Come on Lily, let's go inside," Amelia says holding onto the nine to twelve year old child's hand. I follow obediently.

"OK, so Lily, let me introduce you to your new family. This is your, New Stepfather, John Gaven," she points to the man who brought in my two suitcases (where they are now I do not know). He is leaning against the arm of the plaid sofa. He has dark spiky hair, five o' clock shadow, and dark brown eyes. He's about the same height as Amelia, maybe an inch or two taller, and he looks like a strong man however with a tad bit of a beer gut.

"It's so great to finally meet you Lily, your mom has told us so much about you," he smiles and crosses his arms. He's wearing a dark blue plaid shirt, it's the sixteenth plaid shirt I've seen on the drive here, a very worn pair of blue jeans, and a pair of brown work boots. I look back up to his eyes and simply nod. How much does Amelia know about me? How much has Emile told her?

"This little one is Kayla Marie Gaven, she is John's daughter from his previous marriage, she's just beginning 7th grade this coming school year," Amelia continues. Kayla Marie Gaven has dirty blonde hair tied into low pigtails and she has brown eyes exactly like her father's. If she is starting 7th grade, then she must be, what twelve or thirteen years old. I stare at her as swings back and forth like a small child. She likes pink. She wears a pink skirt, a pink top, pink leggings, pink socks, and pink shoes. Goodness gracious. I mean, it is not as though I am opposed to the color pink, heck, even I have a few pink items, but that much pink is just disgusting.

"Hi," she mumbles shyly. One of my eyebrows rise, why is she acting like a six year old when she's in junior high? Once again, I nod.

"And this baby here," Amelia coos at the now sleeping infant cradled in her arms, "Her name is Penelope Aceline Gaven…" My chin tilts up slightly.

"Huh…" What else is there to say? Clearly my mother thinks Ace is dead. Can I be angry at her for that? I am a little bit, but Durand hasn't heard/seen Ace in four years and Amelia hasn't seen him in six years. Does she have a right to name anything after my brother? They always yelled at each other. I inhale deeply and give them my best smile, nothing too big and not too small. "It's so nice to meet all of you," I keep the smile in place with soft eyes. Emile has taught me to always be polite, no matter what, and it will be a lovely day in hell when I let Emile down, "Thank you so much for your hospitality,"

"I think we should celebrate your arrival," John says looking at his wife, "Let's go to Billy's," Celebrate? Washington is nine hours earlier than France. It is twelve noon here, so it is nine at night in Toulon. I am beyond tired.

" Why don't we go over the weekend, John? I'm sure Lily has jet lag and would like to go to sleep and rest," she glances at me. "Are you hungry sweetie?" I nod,

"Ravenous," John looks at me strangely as I follow my mother into the kitchen and sit at the table obediently. I jump when Kayla Marie Gaven leaps next to me,

"What does that mean?" she's holding on to my arm as I try to lean away from her.

"Hungry, starving," I answer still leaning away as if she is a contagious virus. She's just smiling so oddly at me. I tear my gaze away from her and look back to my mother; where'd the baby go? I look to my right to see John holding the baby. Oh.

"So Lily, tell us about France," John tries to make conversation. How do I answer that? Should I ask him, so tell me about America?

"Um, I don't know much, I mean, you could probably Google whatever information I know…"

"Have you ever been to Paris?"

"No,"

"What!" John laughs, "How do you live in France and never been to Paris?"

"Have you ever been to New York City?" I ask.

"No…?"

"How can you live in the United States of America and never been to New York City?" John stares at me with analytical eyes then clears his throat. I am really not making things easy am I? I clench my jaw and decide to try again. "So, is it always this kind of weather in Forks?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Kayla Marie Gaven answers. "It's only sunny like, never."

"Ah," Hence why everyone is so pale.

"Lia says you're from Toulon?" my head tilts in confusion before realizing he was calling my mother 'Lia'; I nod my head. "Where's that?"

"It's located on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, southern France."

"What's the weather like in Toulon?" John asks. Much better question.

"Nothing like this," I gesture with a wave of my hand, "It's always so sunny and warm. It rarely rains and if it does it is a warm rain, not cold like here. The lowest the temperature has ever gotten is…" where I live we go by Celsius, but here they use Fahrenheit, I remember Emile telling me the conversion of 5 degrees Celsius, "around 42 degrees Fahrenheit." I look to see what my mother is doing, but I can't tell because she has her back to me.

"That still is pretty cold," I shrug,

"But it doesn't get that cold that often."

Amelia places a plate in front of me. It's a ham and turkey sandwich on whole wheat bread. How does she know what I like? Definitely must have been Emile. She continues to put plates in front of everyone else as well. "I like your ring," Kayla Marie Gaven says with her mouth full. My ring is a medium sized cream colored heart with a silver band. After I finish chewing I thank her. "I like your earrings too," My earrings are simple rubies. Amelia pours me a glass of milk and I thank her, ask if she has any coffee made, she does, she pours me a cup, and I thank her then thank Kayla Marie Gaven for her compliment. "I like your bracelets too," My bracelets are just a few silver bangles some have red designs, some have purple. I inhale slowly and close my eyes making sure to keep my facial expression under control. I thank her again and sip my black coffee. I severely hope she doesn't see me as a sister. I pray to whatever Gods there are that she acknowledges that we are stepsisters, because if not then I will never hear the end of, you're the older sister I've always wanted! You can braid my hair! Can I borrow some of your clothes/jewlery/etc.? Let's do a sleepover! I shudder at the thought.

"Lia, back to the celebration," I look over to John, "I think we should still do it tonight," Amelia takes a breath to rebut but he cuts her off, "I know she has jetlag, but going to sleep now she'll never get used to the time difference,"

"Honey, she's tired."

"I agree with John," I contribute, even though it's not the celebration part of it that I agree with, "It'll be better if I try to get used to the time difference now and be prepared for school rather than after," Amelia purses her lips together then shrugs.

"Whatever you want Lily," she gasps suddenly making me almost spill my milk, "Billy's been dying to try my apple pie! Oh I can make that! You see," she says looking to me, "My apple pie is famous because I don't exactly follow the recipe," she grins smugly, "Is it just going to be Billy and Jake or are some of their other family members going to be there? I'll need to know if I need to make more than one pie, Lord knows those boys can eat!" I focus on my sandwich, why is a celebration needed? It's not like I even know these people. I can only assume this is more of an excuse for people to get together, drink, and be merry.

"May I be excused?" Amelia nods. I pick up my dishes and place them in the sick when my eyes catch a yellow notepad on the counter. Emile definitely told her much about me. There is a list of all of my favorite foods.

"Oh that's right!" Amelia exclaims, startling me again. "Lily!" I turn around, "Your father bought you a gift, he sent it here last week. Ugh, that man, it is far too elaborate. I really hope he hasn't spoiled you and your… hasn't spoiled you. I swear that man is just showing off," my head tilts in curiosity, "before we leave for Billy's we'll show it to you. What time should we leave for Billy's house?" she asks herself more than John, but he still answers.

"Probably leave around five,"

"Yes, five would be good. It gives me plenty of time to bake my pies. And Lily it gives you lots of time to unpack and get settled in, shower, you know, and relax a bit."

"Alright. If you don't mind I am going to make a few phone calls,"

"Oh yes! Of course, your father wanted me to make sure you called him when you arrived," My father? Durand and her haven't spoken for years. They can't stand each other. She must be referring to Emile. I nod and walk out of the backdoor. The Gaven's backyard is pretty big with no fence to separate one yard from the next. I look to my left and see a house about twenty-five to thirty yards away then I look to my right and there is another house about sixty yards away. I walk down the three cement steps to a small bench further into the yard near a swing set. I open my phone and call Emile.

"Hello sweetheart! How are you feeling?" I sigh as I lean back against the bench looking up at the grey sky.

"I think the weather is having an effect on my mood and emotions. I feel so… unhappy, stoic, stale,"

"Aw, it's hard for a flower to bloom in that kind of cold environment isn't it," I nod even though he can't see it, "Well all I can advise you to do is emit your own sunshine and nourish yourself until you blossom. Also, remember that it is your first day there, you haven't gone to school yet," I groan, making friends is not my strong suit. Emile laughs, "You'll do fine. I think you will make friends much easier there in a small town than you did here,"

"Good pep talk, Emile," I roll my eyes.

"I apologize, but try not to worry. Moving to live with your mother for a while was a very good decision, don't regret it. You needed to get out of here, experience new worlds, not just learn about them."

"I know," I mumble. After a moment of silence I ask, "Is Dad around?" already knowing the answer.

"No, sweetheart he's not, I'm sorry." Even though I knew the answer, the little miniscule amount of hope I had is demolished. "He will be home tomorrow though," he tries to sound happy. "Tell me about your new stepfamily!" thank God for the topic change.

"Amelia looks nothing like she used to. She has long blonde hair and lost so much weight,"

"Wow, total make over? Does she look good?" I twist my mouth in contemplation. She doesn't look terrible, but I don't think she looks amazing either. Emile laughs again making me chuckle, "I'll take that as a no. Tell me about her husband,"

"His name is John Gaven and he looks like a lumberjack. He seems nice enough though," he chuckles again,

"And the two children?"

"Kayla Marie Gaven,"

"Uh-oh," I guess he can hear the disgust in my voice.

"I can tell already she is going to be annoying, she's going to think that I am the older sister she never had,"

"But Lily, you are her older sister," but I'm not, she's John's daughter who I have absolutely no relation to, is what I want to say, but then I remember that Emile has no relation to me and I see him more of a father and mother than either of my biological parents. My stomach churns uncomfortably as I cross my legs. "Lily, you don't have to fit into her mold of the perfect older sister right away, hell, you might never fit her expectations of an older sister at all. But you are part of her family. It took me a couple of years for you to finally warm up to me,"

"No it did not!" Emile laughs again warming me.

"I swear it did. Look, all I want you to do is be open. Don't close off a possible relationship with someone, OK?

"Yes," I exhale.

"Now what about the other child?"

"Penelope Aceline Gaven,"

"Oh…" Emile understands the situation of Ace, "What a mouthful,"

"Indeed. She's a little baby and she's my half sister."

"Is she cute?"

"Aren't all babies cute?"

"Lily…" he scolds gently, "Try to be involved with your new surroundings! You're not just a guest there, they are your family,"

"I know, I know, I'm just, tired. I'll be better, I promise." We bid our goodbyes and I close my phone. The next person I need to call is my best friend, Zecari Yohann. Our talk is semi depressing. Both of us were considered outcasts at my old high school and I'm not sure why either. It wasn't like we were super nerdy, super slutty, or so out of the ordinary it was ridiculous. But Zecari and I just kept to ourselves mostly. After saying goodbye to Zecari I call my brother.

"Is this a secure line?" he asks mockingly. I bite my bottom lip when my eyes begin to sting.

"Yes,"

"Good, so the last time we chatted, you were telling me that you wanted to live with Mother Dearest, is that correct?"

"Yes,"

"What's happened since that?"

"Well, Amelia has blonde hair now," Ace doesn't say anything for a few minutes.

"You're actually living with her? Now? At this very moment in time? You are at her house?"

"Yes," Another long silence. I watch the house to make sure no one sees or hears me talking to Ace.

"Why?"

"I needed a change. I love Dad and I adore Emile, but, I…I felt like I was stuck in mud and…sinking. I needed a change." Another silence. "So where are you now?"

"Deutschland!" he yells enthusiastically making me giggle.

"What are you doing in Germany?"

"Beer!" he yells again and this time I just full on laugh. "Yeah, but I plan to head to Japan soon to do some fishing."

"But don't you get sea sick?"

"Psh! I've been traveling the world for four years. I've kind of gotten over it… ish." The words were out before I realized,

"When are you coming home?"

"What home?" The same thing happens to him as well, there is a tense silence between us.

"I just miss you Ace," my eyes begin to sting again and my throat burns. He's quiet for a long time.

"I love you Lil-Lil," he says quietly. My vision is beginning to blur, "I promise I'll come see you soon. I really will," Ace is more like Durand than he cares to admit. I wipe my eyes vigorously and sniffle,

"OK," I say with a strong voice, "Well I have to go, you know, gotta unpack,"

"Right, OK then, I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye." I hang up and breathe deeply for a few minutes. I love my brother dearly, but sometimes…