A/N: As cliché as it sounds, I literally got this from a dream. Unlike other stories that were inspired by dreams, this one actually stayed pretty accurate to what my dream was. It isn't a JasperXOC romance, I promise.
Also, this is going to be pretty short. I'm anticipating, maybe, five chapters. It really all depends. At least it's better than my usual oneshots, right? RIGHT?
Oh, and I don't live anywhere near a Hurricane-susceptible place, so if it doesn't make sense, sorry.
Disclaimer: So, you know when you have two dreams, where the dream randomly switches to another dream? Well, after I was done dreaming this story, I dreamed that I went to Little Brown Co. and asked if I could have Twilight. They told me to ask Stephanie Meyer. So I went to her house and was knocking on the door and she answered it and I asked if I could have Twilight, she was all "No." and then a few days later, I found out that she had a restraining order pulled against me, I couldn't even go to Arizona anymore, and then I was making a pilgrimage to Forks and accidentally took a wrong turn into Arizona and then was attacked by Chuck Norris and a pack of those angry attack dogs and then put in jail for the rest of my life.
I took it as an omen and decided not to go ask for Twilight from Little Brown Co. So I don't own Twilight. On a related note, I don't own Harry Potter either, but that's because that is a power too great for one person to handle. And I don't own Steven Spielberg, Harrison Ford, Tim Burton, Johnny Depp or Danny Elfman either. Or the song And I wouldn't even want to own Hollister, Abercrombie and Fitch, Victoria Secret or Blake Lively. I own Rory, though. (Rory's the girl who's narrating.) I also own Danny and Ellis.
Do I win for longest Disclaimer ever?
Stupid Forks. Stupid Hurricane. Stupid life.
I missed Florida.
How did people survive, breathing in so much moisture all the time? How did they survive the cold? In Florida, the seasons are as followed: Hot, really hot, slightly less hot and cold but yet somehow still hot. That was how I liked it. Even when Hurricane Carly threatened our very lives, it wasn't as unyieldingly cold as this arctic wasteland.
I missed Ellis.
Ellis was my best friend, back in Florida. His parents hadn't freaked out and decided to move when Carly was knocking at their door, and they were even closer to it. Ellis was named after Ellis Island, in New York, where his great-grandparents had immigrated to America from Ireland. I missed his blindingly red hair, how it wasn't like most, it was the reddest natural hair you could imagine and had depth. Exactly like a flame, and even more so because he added blue to it. Blue was his favorite color. And he was overly dramatic. He was going to be the next big thing, the next Harrison Ford and I was going to be the next Spielberg. Okay, maybe more like the next Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. Whatever. And we'd always talk about how we grew up together, how I moved to Forks but that didn't stop us.
I missed Danny. Danny was my older brother-well, one of them, anyway-and he was studying music in New York. This would be so much better with him here. He always knew exactly what to say. If Ellis was the Johnny Depp to my Tim Burton, Danny was, ironically, my Danny Elfman. Danny was so funny, he could always make you laugh and he would know how to make this, as Juno's stepmom said, "Garbage dump of a situation" work for everyone. Plus, I had three older brothers and two younger ones and without him here, I was more outnumbered than usual.
Why a diner? My mother always accused me of being too random, she said that I got it from my dad; my mind was all over the place. Well, I'm still here, aren't I? And as much as I disliked this place, I wasn't going anywhere. Not like him, he left when I was eleven and he's who-knows-where. Whatever, I never had a close relationship with him, he was a workaholic who was no good at being a workaholic and it took me eight years to figure out that he was even related to me. And then he ran off to become the next Keith Richards and good luck with that, because it's been four freaking years and I haven't heard anything about him. But if I do, I'll go to his concert with a sign saying "Screw You Dad" and go home and burn that sign in one of those bonfires that the La Push kids have all the time because even that means nothing to me, because it won't be some life-changing discovery, it's just telling the truth and letting him know that he doesn't have to feel guilty, because we're doing fine. He should, he probably doesn't and he doesn't have to. Either way, he was never much of a dad, so I don't consider him a loss. He's really more of what I like to call a "biological donator."
I shake my head, trying to get back to where I was going. Oh, right. Why a diner? That's so random. My mom says I'm random. Hypocrite. Why a diner? She likes reading. She could open a bookstore. One where I could be a cashier and read Harry Potter all day, except when people wanted to buy stuff. But no, she decided to open a diner and make me a waitress, and then tell me she's "worried that I'll become anti-social." Great. Love you, too, mom. Hey, can you rub it in a little more that I've got no friends in this stupid town? I don't think it's really doing the job; my self-esteem just isn't plummeting nearly as much as we'd hoped. I'm thinking about buying a t-shirt that says "I'm not anti-social, society is anti-me!" just to tick her off. Maybe if I had time to actually go anywhere, I could make friends but I'm stuck here dealing with patronizing customers all day. Because of course, since I'm a waitress, I must be intellectually deficient. Not like I'm just trying to make a living, not like I have dreams.
Don't get me wrong; I love my mom, and I appreciate everything she does for me and my brothers. But she has absolutely no tact.
I look up from the notebook that I'm doodling in to find the parking lot full. I've been here longer than I thought, the page is full and when I got here there was only one other car. There's a shiny silver Volvo parked right next to my old Mustang, and it must've just shown up because five people are getting out of the car, and they are all freaking gorgeous.
There's this guy who's got a smile like my little brother, curls like my other little brother and a body like Hulk Hogan. He's gotta be, like, six-foot-six, at least, and I'm pretty sure that he could easily go into any Abercrombie or Hollister in the country and get a job as a model. And he'd look really dangerous, but he caught me looking over at him, grinned, and winked. Not an overly friendly or flirtatious gesture, just something to show that he was not going to kill me for glancing in his direction.
Then there's this perfect blond girl who you could walk into a classroom feeling like Blake Lively-no, wait. Blake Lively could walk into a classroom and see this chick and be like "Crap, I just lost my job." If that makes sense. Let's just put it this way-if the cute body-builder is a Hollister model, then Blondie is a Victoria Secret model. She doesn't look in my direction.
And then there's this other girl, a petite, tiny little thing that walks like this girl at my old school who took dance lessons, only a million times more gracefully. And she's got this pimpin' short, black hair that's all spiky. She raises her eyebrows at The Rock's reassuring gesture and then looks over at me, and I can just hear her thinking "Oh, new kid." She smiles. I smile back tentatively.
Then there's this guy who isn't quite as tall or bulky as the first guy, but could still be a model for one of those buy-our-seventy-dollar-jeans-instead-of-tearing-holes-in-your-own stores. He's got this brownish-reddish, bronze hair that's relatively bright, but Ellis's would still put it to shame. He's rolling his eyes at what I'm assuming is his family's-or part of it's-interest in me, though they aren't even looking at me now. He looks at me in disinterest, like he's only looking at me because there's no other option. Yeah, right. Admit it, dude, you can keep your eyelids down and act cool all you want but you're still looking at me like a clown, like a trapeze artist at the circus. I widen my eyes to say "Can I help you?" He rolls his eyes, smiles like he's chuckling softly-I can't hear him, but it looks patronizing-and walks away.
I already like Curly better than him.
And then there's this tall, lanky blond guy. He's got hair a couple shades darker than Barbie and kind of a bean pole, because even though he's can't be much shorter than the first, friendly guy, he's way skinnier, but of course, still gorgeous. He glances at me, and sees that I'm looking at him, and frowns, like he's trying to figure something out. I give him the same look-his confusion is confusing me. This confuses him more. I stop the cycle and smile tentatively. He smiled politely back, not as warm as the other two but not cold either.
This all happened very quickly, and then they all walked away.
The weird thing was, even though none of them looked remotely alike, they all had the same whiter-then-white kid skin, no color at all, and these shadows under their eyes like they hadn't had a good night's sleep in quite awhile. And their eyes were all gold. Not like, goldish-brown. I mean, actual gold-looking-gold. Like, if a miner found one of their eyeballs, the other miners would push him down an abandoned mine shaft and then kill each other over it.
As they walked away, I pathetically wanted to follow them. Because the last kid, the tall blond guy? He reminded me exactly of Danny.
A/N: What did you think? Review and let me know! Also, the use of term "white than white kid skin" isn't racism. She never said that was a bad thing. I happen to white, so why would I be racist against myself? That wouldn't make a great deal of sense, now would it? No. Okay. Anyway, review and let me know what you liked and what you didn't and whether I should continue. Next chapter: Edward's POV!
Other A/N: Even though I tried to keep my personal feelings out of this as much as possible, you may have gotten the feeling that I don't like Edward. And I don't.
No, I'm not a lesbian.
I just find Edward incredibly boring. Even his flaws (Cough, cough distain for human race, cough, cough no sense of humor, cough, cough) make him boring. That's just my opinion. I'll try not to Edward bash too much, since a lot of people seem to really like Edward. So, from this point on, I will keep my opinions on that to myself.
But Rory might not. Sorry.