Prologue

XXX

"What's wrong with you? You on your rag, or what?"

I rolled my eyes at friend's poor choice of assumption. Then again, Ruth didn't give a flying fig if people heard our conversations or not. I shoved my Geometry book into my ugly steel locker, noting that my picture of my little brother was beginning to peel off. I smoothed the tape to make it stick to the inner locker again, only to have it completely come off and clutter miserably to the floor. Ruth chuckled as she picked up the picture and handed it back to me. "Bernard is such a cutie," she commented the photo with an adoring smile.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"You need to end your dry existence and finally get laid, then?" She interjected, her brows creasing when she noticed my tone.

"No, I don't need anything besides for you to shut up," I said rudely, feeling my cheeks slightly heat up with her latter sentence. But of course, Ruth just waved it off.

"Too bad that's the one thing I can't do. Now seriously, what's eating you?" If it hadn't been for her genuine concern, I might've had the heart to tell her to mind her own business. But I could never keep anything from Ruth before I broke and told her, anyway.

"My great uncle Finn passed away two nights ago," I sighed, closing my locker and shoving the picture of my brother into my folder.

Ruth's frown quickly turned into a look of sympathy. "Oh Nel, I'm so sorry…"

Now it was my turn to frown, and I shook my head. "No, I'm not sad that he passed away. I mean it sucks, but really, the man was a stranger to me. I only saw him twice in my life, both times before I was 11. How can I mourn someone I didn't know?"

Ruth smacked my arm lightly, "'Cause he was still family, Nel. And if you aren't all torn up over his death, why do you look like hell?"

I thought about making up a lie, because really, I didn't like sharing family drama. But again… this was Ruth, and I told her everything. "My dad just entered the war that the rest of my family is waging over his will." My best friend gave me a look that told me this was a kinda lame reason to upset about, but then I added, "I mean, isn't it pathetic that my family members are so focused on my uncle's will, they couldn't even wait until after they held a funeral for Finn? My uncle wasn't a poor guy. He had two estates, including a ranch, a big boat, and other essentials of a wealthy guy. Thing is, he never had any kids. So everything is up for dibbs, since no one has seen the will yet, and they pushed it to be announced. The hearing is today, so my dad has to drive down to San Francisco tonight. It's stupid… he's behind on paying rent, so now he's hoping that my uncle left him something to live off of. Dude," I cut off my story, looking Ruth dead in the eye, "If my mom hadn't drained his earnings and run off, my dad wouldn't be so desperate for money right now."

Now Ruth had no expression at all. Instead, she put her left arm over my shoulders, "Well… guess I'd be pissed too, only I'd be handling it a lot worse than cool, collected you right now. How do you do that?" She smiled, and I weakly returned it with my own smile. If only she knew how wrong she was.

She held me in that half hug until we parted for our classes.

XXX

I got home a little past three, knowing my brother was walking home around this same time. His school was only a block away, so I didn't worry over walking him home.

My feet thudded in the surprisingly quiet hallway leading to my apartment. We were on the second floor, where you not only heard what went on downstairs, but also what went on with the noisy college roommates upstairs.

I took out my keys and let myself in. I hadn't bothered to knock on the door, knowing that my dad was already making the 5 hour drive from our home in Long Beach to San Francisco. He had called me earlier, apologizing to me and saying he needed to head straight over there right after work. I could hear the rev of cars on the freeway as he spoke to me. He pleaded for me to get Bernard to bed on time and that he couldn't ask for a better daughter. "And Penelope," he said tiredly before we hung up, "everything's going to be okay." I knew this was more to reassure himself because he was so nerve-racked, but I appreciated the effort anyway. I told him I loved him and hung up.

16 was turning out to be an okay age for me, since 15 was weighed down with unbelievable pressure and the ages before that were just flat out unsteady (that was when my mom was still around). I was used to taking care of my brother on my own; it wasn't my dad's fault that he had to work full time to support us. I offered lots of times to take up a job, but he insisted that he needed me home. I remember that Bernard once stubbornly declared that he would look for a job, so we could all work. As sweet as the gesture was, dad and I doubted that no employer in his right mind would hire an 8 year old boy.

At the thought of my brother, I heard an impatient knock on the door. I smiled, opened the door, and wrapped him in a hug. He wriggled against me, whining, "It's too hot to be hugging! And you're wearing a long sleeve, are you nuts!?"

"Someone's cranky," I said lightly. His freckled face was flushed red, thanks to our Irish blood intolerance of the heat. Had we been born at the same time, we might have been twins; we both had light brown hair, wide hazel-brown eyes, and medium-toned skin covered in freckles. Even though I thought I looked awkward with embarrassingly wide hips and with some meat on me, including unflattering lips that looked like I was always ready to kiss something and had a 5'4 stature, it was clear that Bernard was going to be the most ridiculously handsome dude ever. Whereas my hair was lifeless and cut to the length of my ears, my brother's hair curled like a halo over his oval face, which a strong jaw was already defined. Short lashes framed his eyes, but somehow made their color stand out more. He had the beginnings of a lanky and tall build, already reaching up a little past my elbows. Our hereditary genes pretty much laughed in my face and lavished my brother.

Never mind. He was too good to have been my twin.

What followed for the rest of the day was briefly explaining to him why dad wouldn't be home tonight, me nagging him to do his homework, and him nagging me about what was for dinner. Once his homework was finished and our left over take-out pizza was consumed, we slipped into our pajamas and piled onto the couch. We had one T.V. in the living room with no cable, but at least we had a DVD player. We settled on "The Fox and the Hound", a personal favorite of his, but God knows why since it's such a depressing kid's film.

It wasn't even half way through before Bernard fell asleep on the opposite side of the couch. I looked at the clock; 10:13 p.m. I shrugged my shoulders, deciding to watch the rest of the movie. I don't remember when my eyes gave up and I fell asleep, too.

XXX

The phone must have been on its' fourth ring before I sighed angrily, roused enough from my sleep to stand up. I looked over the couch, relieved that the ringing hadn't awoken Bernard. Then again, the kid could sleep through an earthquake… I looked at the clock, which was dimly lit be the city lights filtering through our window; 4: 56 a.m. I hoped the person calling was my dad, because if it was anyone else, they were about to get an earful of profanities.

I trudged over to the kitchen counter and picked up the phone, which had continued into its' ninth ring, "Hello?" I snapped.

"Penelope?" Came dad's startled voice.

"Who else would it be, dad?" I grumbled.

And then my dad laughed, and I mean a real laugh, a sound I hadn't heard in a long time. I perked up immediately, and I couldn't hold back the smile on my face. This could only mean one thing. "Uncle Finn came through for you!?" I whispered excitedly.

"Yes he did, Nel. He really came through for us," I knew he was overtly happy, but I heard a slight hesitance in his voice. I wonder how much Finn had left for my dad?

"Can I ask… how he 'really' came through?" It must've been a lot of money. Maybe that's why dad sounded a little uncomfortable. I heard someone talking to him in the background, and my dad made a quick reply that was inaudible to me. "Dad?" I pressed.

"A house, Nel. Finn left us a house!" My dad said in a rush, like if he didn't say it now, he'd never tell me. That hesitance still lined his voice.

"You mean one of his estates?" That wouldn't be good. Finn had his main home in San Francisco, one in Puerto Rico, and his ranch in El Paso, Texas. Any which way I looked at it, it would be far away from Long Beach, California. I loved it here and so did Bernard. As far as I knew, my dad liked it here too, and his work was here. Everything was here for us. I was thinking of my next choice of words to put up an argument, but I wanted his reply first.

"No, not one of the estates… well, not exactly," he trailed off. Definitely not good. "You see Penelope, I guess Finn didn't tell the family everything. He still had a place back in my hometown Forks, Washington."

Oh, hell no.

"Washington?" I repeated. "Finn had a home in Washington?"

"Yes," dad said calmly. I think he could sense my protests were coming, but I didn't know what emotion my voice was exuding. "Penelope. You know this is a good thing, right? I know it'll be hard for you and Bernie at first, but… Forks grows on you. Really, it does." When I didn't say anything, he pleaded, "We don't have a choice, Nel. Not only will we not have to struggle to pay for that little apartment anymore, Finn said he left it specifically for us. He had a soft spot for us ever since he learned Marianna and I split." He was referring to my mom. And they didn't 'split' as he so nicely put it; she left him.

I wanted to hang up on him. I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell him that I am the girl who cannot be moved. I wanted to tell him that I'd get a job, that we could get someone else to take care of Bernard. I wanted to tell him that if he took me away from Long Beach, I would never speak to him again, that it wouldn't matter if we were living under the same roof. But my selfish resolve weakened when the sound of the sadness in my father's voice echoed in my head. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I steadied myself on the kitchen counter, still unsure of what I wanted to say.

"We'll have to move," I mumbled. It wasn't a question, because I already knew the answer. But I didn't have the heart to say a snide remark to him.

The tension did not cease, but my father's voice wasn't as strained as before when he spoke, "We'll talk more when I get home, alright? Don't tell Bernie yet; I want to tell him." It bothered me that dad told me this over the phone; but when I thought about it, I was less likely to blow up… unlike my brother who was frightening when someone snatched a crayon from him. My dad wanted to deal with him in person; but he needed to know I was okay first. I wasn't, but I was handling it better than Bernard would.

"See you," was all I said.

"Love you, Nel."

I hung up. I stood there at the counter for a minute, trying to absorb everything that was just said. I glanced at the clock (an established habit of mine); 5:17 a.m. That conversation seemed way longer than it actually was. I walked over to the still-sleeping Bernard, fixing his tangled blanket. Then I lowered myself into the opposite of the couch, even though I was wide awake now.

Forks, Washington.

Desmond Gowan, my father, had told me a year's worth of how small-town Forks hadn't been enough for him. It was always raining, there was hardly anything for a teen to do, and whoever decided to spend the rest of their life there was asking for a meaningless existence. He and his two older brothers were raised there (my uncle Bernard and uncle Connell, both of whom had passed away), but my grandmother Meredith was still living in Forks. Despite her protests, my dad would always help pay for her plane ticket to bring her to California. He never wanted us to go over there, and I had no idea why. Me and Bernard hadn't seen grandma in almost two years… my dad broke contact with her when mom left him. I figured it was out of shame, since my grandmother was supposedly big on love and marriage. It would be great seeing her again, but now all of a sudden for dad to tell me, "Forks grows on you"? That was a straight up lie. He was just trying to make a bad situation forgivable.

I covered my face with my hands, attempting to cease the tears. What was I going to tell Ruth? What would happen to the dreams I still had for my life in Long Beach? Of all times to 'start over', my dad wanted to do it now, when I already was mapping out my life. I loved this little apartment. I didn't care that we didn't have much; I just didn't want things to change.

XXX

I probably looked worse today than I had yesterday.

When I met Ruth at our usual table during lunch, she raised an eyebrow. We didn't hang out with prominent people; there was Elizabeth, a girl who dyed her hair every other week; Braeden, who had hinted more than once that he was interested in Ruth, but she simply didn't see anything attractive about him; Big Rig, whose real name was Gary, but since he was on the heavy side and drove a truck, people preferred his nickname; and the siblings Manny and Jamie.

It took me a minute to realize that none of these people were as important to me than Ruth was. They were just… hang out people.

I sat down next to her, and as I looked into her honest face, I realized it was unfair of me to short circuit things. I had avoided her all morning, trying to think of something to say. It was hard, because we had said more than once that we told everything only to each other. Sure the others were great, but in the end, Ruth and I were the best friends.

"I'm moving away," I whispered so only she could hear.

She made no expression at first, but then a genuine smile broke onto her mouth, "Funny, dude."

I was surprised with her response, but then again, Ruth and I usually played stupid jokes like this. "I'm serious," I tried.

"Sure," she giggled.

"Ruth fucking Dwyre, I'm moving to Forks, Washington." I hadn't meant to sound so blunt; but her crumpled expression told me that she knew I was serious now.

What ensued was Ruth dragging me to the bathroom at the far end of the campus, and her losing it. She yelled at me, asking over and over, "Are you serious!? Are you serious!?" I wanted to tell her she was over reacting. But what good would that do? So I did the only other thing I could think of: I hugged her. "You're my best friend, Nel. I don't have anyone else to talk to," she mumbled, and I was thankful her high voice had ceased.

"I don't either," I said truthfully. "But… you know my dad's been having trouble with money. This is a good change for him… I'm just happy he's happy."

Ruth pulled herself away from our embrace, but didn't let go of my arms. Her hair had become mussed, misery glinting in her eyes as she said, "Is it a good change for you?"

No, it wasn't. But I didn't want to prove her right; I didn't want her to find reason to argue against something that was already set in stone. I hugged her again, "Nothing will change except for the distance between our houses."

XXX

I came home later than usual, knowing my dad was home probably napping to rest up for work tonight. Bernard had his own key just in case dad didn't wake up to open the door. I also didn't want to be there when he talked to Bernard about our new home. I hung around Ruth's house for a while, relishing in our time together. I didn't know when we were moving, but today was Wednesday and I wanted to ask my dad if Ruth could stay over night in our apartment one last time.

I came home to find my apartment door swung open, my dad sitting in a sea of his clothes on the living room floor. I looked around to see lots of boxes, and our lamps, kitchen ware, and a few other objects were covered in bubble wrap or newspaper. Had he been doing this all day?

"What happened to work?" I asked.

"Quit this morning," he said with a genuine smile. The purple circles under his eyes contradicted his positive expression.

This stunned me; I stared at him in disbelief. "Already?" I squeaked, "And what about Bernard?"

"He knows. He's in his room packing right now."

"P-packing?" I stuttered, "Wait, I-?"

"We're leaving in four days," dad said, not looking me in the eyes.

"But… but what about… what!?" I was at a loss for words.

"I'm taking out a lot of my savings to pay off what I owe to this apartment rent, so it won't be a burden when we leave. I can earn back what I lost when I find a job in Forks. But it's better to leave as soon as possible… so you'd better start packing," I was about to open my mouth to scream at him, but again I was choked up by the look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Nel. Really, I am. If things could be easier…"

I didn't let him finish. I stomped into my shared room with my brother, finding him shoving some of his clothes into a plastic bag. He looked up at me, and scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. I sat at the edge of his bed, turning away from him. I was wrong-- I was taking this harder than him. I felt him sit behind me and he began to pat my back. "S'okay, Nel. I think no one really likes change, but it still happens."

Sometimes I had my doubts that Bernard was an 8 year old boy, and was really some wise old man in disguise.

XXX

Boring chapter I know, but it had to be done. The real story picks up next time, yay. Just as a quick bit of info: when thinking of Paul, I have his portrayer Alex Meraz in mind... same goes for the rest of the pack. Review, please!