A/N: So, I've been inspired.

Chapter One

Paradise

When she was just a girl,

she expected the world,

but it flew away from her reach,

and the bullets catch in her teeth.

BPOV

"Right now it's seven o'clock in the morning, and you're listening to The Swan Morning Show. It's eighty-three degrees and sunny today in the city, with clouds later on in the day. This is Charlie Swan, and if you're just tuning in, we're taking calls about the benefits of breast feeding," my dad wailed through my alarm clock radio. I couldn't bear to listen anymore, and took no time in bringing my hand down on that alarm clock radio like Thor's hammer.

I felt like I usually did after one of my restless nights. I wasn't tired. I'd only gone to sleep about four hours ago. It was like I took a little siesta. I knew I would pay for it during class when I was catching z's and every other letter of the alphabet instead of learning. Last night, I could only think about my mom: her smile, her eyes, her voice… her death. It had been almost half a year since she passed away, but the pain that filled me crown to toe when I thought about her still felt fresh. She was alive just months ago.

I rolled over, assuaging the morning light behind my closed eyelids. My eyes were probably a little bit swollen. I'd let a few tears past the Berlin Wall that I usually put up in front of people. Rose had stayed the night, and she'd seen me cry before, but I didn't indulge in that vulnerability. I let my mind wander aimlessly, deciding whether or not to get up, like a cow in a meadow awaiting it's inevitable butchering. I heard Rose shuffle in her sleep, and couldn't prolong getting up much longer. She would kill me if I let her sleep in too late.

"Rose." I croaked. She rolled toward me, still asleep, and her arm flung out, effectively slapping me across my chest. "Ouch," I drawled out in a whisper, "you bitch." I rolled myself over to grab something out from under my bed. The cool, long metal can felt righteous in my vengeful palm. My thumb rested peacefully on the rubber trigger. I listened to her light snoring, and let her feel content for a minute longer before bringing my thumb down harshly and letting the bullhorn crack a fissure in the peace. Rose let out a broken scream, shattering the morning's serenity, and sat up. I quickly threw away the can, the only evidence that connected me to the noise.

Rose, being her super keen self, caught onto me after her brief panic. Her wide eyes drew a narrow gaze at me. She haphazardly threw a pillow my way, but it only landed on my resting figure with a light thump. "You said you got rid of that, Bella!" she yelled, taking another pillow and pushing it into her face until she lay back down again. I shrugged from under my blanket.

"Watch where you throw your arms," I explained with a yawn.

"I hate you."

"I know," I answered, snuggling my cheek further into my pillow, my body into my blanket. We were both silent for a few minutes. I looked up at the time. It was ten past seven. I rocked myself a little bit to gain some momentum before finally pushing myself into an upright position. The blanket still hung onto my shoulders. My mom had quilted it for me when she was first bed ridden. It was just a simple, white blanket with my name embroidered in pink at the top of it. I couldn't bring myself to sleep without it.

"Seriously, Rose, time to get up," I coaxed, letting my muscles tighten to stand, and then stretching them as far as I could. My charm bracelet from Jake rolled down my arm as I brought my arms above my head. Crap, Jake. I looked through the blankets and pillows on my side of the bed, but couldn't find my phone. "Rose, get up," I ordered. She groaned in response, but made no indication that she'd be moving any time soon. I started looking around her anyway. My hands groped around her body, trying to make contact with the crappy black plastic. Rose hummed.

"At least buy me a drink first," she joked in her sleeping stupor. I brought my hands up and rolled her body off the bed. She yelped, tried to grab onto the bed, and brought her blanket and two pillows down with her.

"Aha!" I triumphed, grabbing my not smart phone from its previous position under one of the pillows that fell to the floor with Rosalie. I had six new messages.

"You are such a bitch," Rose mumbled from the floor, finally sitting up and acknowledging life. "I don't know why I'm friends with you," she muttered, throwing her upper body into the air to stand up. Her 'reduce, reuse, recycle' shirt rode up to her belly button with the fall. She blushed as she pulled it down hastily. I never understood why she always did that. She was stick thin and had curves to die for.

She stood a good four inches taller than I was, but didn't tower over me as much as one might think she would. Her personality shrunk her to size. While she was tall, blonde, and beautiful, she was kind, warm, and charitable. She seemed to always be volunteering for something. Last Spring, she went to Thailand to build up orphanages. The summer before that, she was in Tennessee building houses for people in need. She stopped at nothing to donate her free time for others. That's how we met. She'd tutored me in Chemistry freshman year. I'd been a year ahead than all the other freshmen in science, but I still had trouble. If it wasn't for her, I'd probably still have been taking chemistry with all the sophomores as a senior.

I clutched at my chest. "You wound me." She rolled her eyes and put her overnight bag on my bed to grab her clothes for our first day of senior year. I had taken a shower last night so I'd have loose waves this morning, instead of either dealing with wet hair or having to blow dry. Rose had taken a shower last night, too, but her hair was always straight. She went to the bathroom to change while I changed in the room.

I slipped on a pair of ripped shorts that made my butt look vivacious. Then, I put on a black Bando and a dark blue translucent blouse that I hadn't worn for a couple of weeks, but worked well with my semi-pale skin, and glanced at myself in the mirror. I hadn't thought too much about what I would wear today. It was just another school day.

"But it's your last first day of high school," my mom would probably sap. I didn't sap about anything. Sap is for syrup, and syrup is for pancakes.

"Hurry up, and we can get pancakes before first bell!" I yelled to Rose. Right on cue, the water stopped running. She rushed into the room with a giant grin on her face. I slipped into the bathroom. A quick glance at my supposed "loose, wavy hair" had me cringing. So much for that. I could blame it on my restlessness, probably. I brought my head upside down and began French braiding my hair from the nape of my neck and down. As I reach the curvature of the top of my skull, I brought the rest of my hair into a slightly messy bun. Classy.

I gave myself a minute to look at my text messages. Four of the six were from Jake.

Hey, babe. You sleeping?

Hello?

I miss you.

I shook my head and laughed. These were from last night. No point in answering them, no matter how sweet they were. One was from this morning.

Good morning. :) Do you need a ride to school?

This one I could answer.

No, thanks, Rose is driving. We're going for pancakes at the diner. You should come.

Less than a minute passed before I heard a buzz from my phone.

See you there.

I smiled, knowing that I'd see him soon. He always knew how to make me smile. Another text I got was from my dad.

Good luck on your first day. There's money with your mother for lunch. xo Dad

I rolled my eyes. The money would be next to my mother's urn in the living room. He was so weird sometimes. I shook my head at the thought of her urn in the house. We had originally planned to do something with her ashes, but we couldn't decide what. I'd suggested bringing them back to Arizona where she grew up, but he'd refused. We haven't spoken about it since.

Another text was from a number I didn't recognize. The area code was from Forks.

Hey, are you okay?

I didn't answer, not wanting to embarrass the sender by asking who it was. Instead, I brushed my teeth with my Spiderman toothbrush and was soon on my way to fluffy, syrup-covered pancakes.

"So, how did you sleep?" Rosalie asked as we sped toward Whitlock's Diner. A local family owned it. One of the boys in our grade was the owners' son. He was one of Rose's ex-boyfriends turned best friend. Jasper and Rosalie hadn't been compatible at all, but his diner was a popular place to go in Forks, so I hadn't minded the free food that came with their relationship. Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock had like Rosalie so much, that they still gave us free food after the break up.

"Fine," I lied, stifling a yawn that just tried to bubble up. She gave me a patronizing glance before looking back at the road. I set my eyes on the passing scenery.

"Are you okay?" I knew why she was asking. My stomach clenched hard. I expertly ignored any pretense of tears that would normally build up when I was alone. It was my first day of senior year and my mom wasn't here to see it. Rosalie didn't need to know how heartbroken I was. How much a yearned to have hugged and kissed her before I left the house just minutes ago. How much I'd wanted to hear her say "Good luck, Bella!" and cry over how grown up I was. I was crying instead.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" I questioned, knowing she'd see right through me. I put on a giant grin. She studied me for a moment. "We're seniors!" I yelled, letting my arm hand out the window to take on the rush of wind that surrounded the moving vehicle. Rose rolled her eyes and put down her sunglasses as we turned into a parking spot by the diner. When we both got out of the car, I remembered the mystery text I got. "Hey, do you know this number?" I read off the ten-digit number that had texted me this morning. She took out her phone and called the number, but hung up quickly.

"It's not saved in my phone," she shrugged. I shrugged with her. We walked into the diner, a bell announcing our arrival, and easily found Jake sitting in a corner booth with Jasper. As soon as he saw us, he got up and walked to me.

"My lady," he murmured, bringing me into a hug. I smiled into his shoulder, reveling in him. He was much taller than I was, tan-skinned with his Native American heritage, with short black hair. His eyes were a swirl of dark brown and forest green. I loved them. When he acted like this, it was hard to remember how controlling he was at times.

"Hey, Jake," I greeted, pulling myself out of his grasp and kissing him chastely on the lips. He smiled at me and led me to the table where Rosalie already sat with Jasper, probably talking about their upcoming trip to New Orleans with Habitat for Humanity the week of Thanksgiving. They sure weren't compatible as a couple, but they were like an extreme volunteer duo. I was glad that she'd found someone else to take to the soup kitchens and award dinners. I mean, I loved to volunteer, too, and I did go often, but I was glad that I didn't feel pressured to go anymore.

"What can I get y'all?" Mrs. Whitlock asked in her lovely southern accent. I pointed to Rose and me with a grin.

"A stack of pancakes for both of us."

"Me too," Jake added.

"Me three," Jasper piped up in his own southern drawl. The Whitlock's had come to Seattle from Texas to share with the North what food could really taste like.

"Orange juice good for everyone?" she asked. We all nodded, and with that, she was gone.

I partook in idle chatter about what teachers everyone had and what electives everyone chose. I talked about my photography class like it was just another class, but I was actually really excited to get started. I'd found one of my mom's old cameras in her closet a few months ago, and couldn't wait to get to use it. I was quiet for the most part, trying to keep my thoughts away from her. The mysterious text popped into my mind again.

"Hey, guys," I interrupted one of Jake's classic imitations of one of the less than kind lunch ladies. Everyone stopped and looked at me. I guess I hadn't spoken more than I thought I hadn't. "Um, sorry," I muttered, resigning to wait until Jake was finished.

"No, what is it, babe?" Jake beckoned for me to continue.

"Do either of you know this number?" I read off the number once again. Both boys took out his cell phone to dial in the number.

"It wasn't in my phone," Rose explained. Jakes brows dipped toward the center of his face.

"Yeah, it's not in my phone either. Sorry. Why?" I told him that a number had texted me this morning before I woke up.

"It's probably a wrong number," I settled, starting to type a typical 'wrong number' response.

"Wait," Jasper said, typing something into his phone. He asked what the number was again and I repeated it. "That's, um, Cullen's number," he answered, his face the epitome of confusion. The look on my face probably mirrored his.

"Cullen? As in Edward Cullen?" I tried to clarify. Jasper nodded. A flash of bronze hair and bright green eyes dance in my memory.

"That would be the one." He clarified. I shrugged.

"Weird," I whispered, getting rid of the 'wrong message' text I was about to send and saving the mysterious number under the name 'Edward Cullen.'

Review and tell me if I should go on.

I have plans, but I don't want to carry on if no one wants me to.

-Erinjeni, reed4funxeb