First Fanfic; please, please be nice…
Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns the Twilight Series and killersmile originally had the idea of switching the roles of Bella and Edward.
EPOV
High school. People tell you it's the worst part of your life. Well, considering how my summer already sucked, that was completely true for me.
Not only had my parents been reassigned to this miserable excuse for a town, but I still couldn't do squat about it. Nothing but sit there like a good, silent, non-whiney son.
It sorta sucked.
"Edward!" Mom screeched from downstairs, desperate to be heard over my music. Ever since I had gotten here, that was all I had done. Well, all that I had done willingly.
Dad would get me up, not that I wanted to wake from my dreams of sunny Chicago.
Mom would make me breakfast, not that I wanted to eat in my seemingly endless nostalgic stage.
Both my parents would make me unpack, making it clear that we were living in the dreary, wet, miserable, rainy Forks, Washington, no matter what my opinion might be.
I huffed irritably and continued to play my piano, letting all my problems drown a painful death in my fierce compositions.
"Edward! Come down! Get some dinner!" This time I could hear my mom stomping up the stairs, her patience quickly coming to an end.
I played quieter to hear her reaction to my door.
The sound of a stubbornly locked doorknob rattling behind me made m smile for the first time in weeks; the first time since I heard we were moving.
"Edward Anthony Masen, open this door right now!"
"Elizabeth, what's he done now?" My father's low voice drifted up the stairway, making my mom pause and let go of the doorknob.
"Please tell me you have a key." She pleaded behind my door.
"Sweetheart, wait here. I'll get the sledgehammer."
My grin disappeared. My dad, Edward Sr., may be a dad with a teenage son, but that didn't necessarily mean he joked around a lot. Quickly, I sprung from my bench and fumbled with the lock on the handle before nearly slamming my head with the edge of the door in my haste to open it. The sight was not very encouraging. Dad had his arms crossed in front of his chest, his foot tapping on the floor.
"I'm not hungry." I simply said. I was just closing the door again when my dad stopped it with his foot.
"Edward, we need to talk." He said sternly.
"About what?" I snapped, my tone more than a bit harsh. I bit my lips together to keep in my ranting.
"You've done nothing but unpack and play the piano all this week."
"Well, isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?" I hissed. "Unpacking my way to life in this… mushy green wasteland?"
"Just wait, Edward! Look around, explore a bit—"
"Dad, did you not looked around when we were driving from Port Angeles? There's nothing here! Fine, I'll give you the basic necessities of a town, and the one restaurant, and the one hiking store, but seriously, what do you see that could keep me busy except that school?" I was nearly yelling by the end of my rant.
"You start at Forks High tomorrow." My dad said calmly, unfazed by my clearly negative attitude. "Now, please come down and get some dinner."
I was ready to tear his head off before we reached the kitchen, where Mom had put two homemade pizzas on the table. I sighed. Usually, when my mom made pizzas, it would be when my friend Jay came over for dinner. But Jay was back in Chicago. Jay wasn't coming over, ever.
When dinner finished, where did I go? Upstairs, to my room. I closed the door but didn't dare lock it, for fear of Dad not giving me another warning. Not in the mood for piano, but too tired to continue arranging my room, I collapsed on my bed and sunk into a dreamless sleep, simply dreading school tomorrow.
And morning came all too early. It only seemed like a few minutes before Mom came into my room and ripped the sheets off me, exposing my skin to 'January in the Olympic Mountains' morning temperatures. Even inside the house, it must've been only fifty degrees. But, I bet it was just as bad, if not worse, in Chicago.
"First day of school! Come on! Get up!" My mom said as she strode out my room, turning on the lights that momentarily blinded me. I saw I was still in my clothes from last night.
I got up, not bothering to look at the window, since I already made an educated guess of overcast, and got dressed for school. Ugh; school. Downstairs, I ate a quick bowl of cereal and ran outside, shouting good-byes to my parents, but I stopped mid-sentence when I saw a brand-new, silver Volvo, exactly like my one in Chicago, sitting in the driveway.
"Edward!" My dad shouted from the front door. I spun around to look at him just in time to catch a set of keys, one with the Volvo logo on it. I was speechless. "The smallest one is for the house!"
I nodded, grinning widely, and hopped in the car, speeding off to school, which suddenly didn't seem all that bad.