**NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT INTENDED! ALL RIGHTS TO TO STEPHENIE MEYER!**

Copyright to this story belongs to me, Alice Everdeen. No stealing.

ALICE'S POV

"You're ridiculous. I can't believe you always win. I'm never playing with you again." She flung down her cards angrily and strode out of the room. I let her go - that's what Cynthia always said after a game of Go Fish with me. Her competitive nature usually urged her to come back for a rematch within a couple of hours.

I smiled to myself as I put up the cards and stuffed them onto a shelf in my over-crowded, poster-covered, pink-painted, shopping bag-filled room. I didn't exactly know what made me so good at that particular game, but I just kind of…got this feeling of what colors or numbers she had in her hand. I had that "feeling" with other things, too - like what exact outfit my sister would wear, before I even saw her in the morning. Just small things, but still…It was weird, I'll admit. But I wasn't complaining. It helped me get revenge on her for all the times she beat me into the dust at soccer. Yeah… sports wasn't exactly my thing, if you know what I mean.

I was 15 years old and 4'9. Scary right? Yeah, and you thought you were made fun of at school. Pipsqueak, shortie, munchkin, I got all of 'em. I was skinny, though, and not too bad-looking, if I do say so myself, so I did get dates now and again…or every night. Hey, what can I say? I'm a huge flirt.

My name is Alice. Well, okay Mary Alice. But who goes by a stupid name like that? Yeah, NO. IDEA. what my parents were thinking when they came up with that one… My sister got the good luck. Cynthia. Now that's a name, right there.

I was content with my life. Everything was exactly as I imagined a normal American teenage girl's life would be like. I went to the mall with my friends, went out with boys, fought with my parents, bickered with my sister. I had it all. I was living the life, man.

Until that day.

It was a Sunday afternoon. Me and Cynthia were still in our Sunday church dresses and we were flaunting it. And I mean, full-out strutting around our obtuse backyard like supermodels. Our yard was like The Sound of Music all over again. Four acres of nothing but hills, grass, and flowers. It was beautiful.

I remember feeling so free there, so alive, and just plain…happy. I also remember I never felt like that again until I met Jasper. My Jasper. But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the flaunting.

We pranced around like princesses, holding hands, skipping, twirling. My hair was long then. My mother always loved to twirl it around her fingers whenever her mind wandered. My mom's hair beautiful, so I had literally no clue why she always admired mine. Her was chopped off at her shoulders and a glowing light blonde. I'd always longed for blonde hair. Just so I could be like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty or some other anorexic blonde princess. But I guess I just had to settle for Snow White with my black locks. My sisiter's was a sandy tan, like our father's. Their hair looked just alike, length and all - cropped off at the middle of the neck. They could have passed as twins in another life.

Our family was happy, and so was I. I'd never even dreamed any thing would go wrong in my plan. And by plan, I don't mean like a plan for "world domination" or whatever. I mean my plan for my life. I'd even written it all out in my diary - I'd graduate from high school (maybe college), marry a handsome gentleman, raise a family, and live happily ever after. Quite practical, really.

But all of that went down the drain (although I wouldn't realize it until afterward) when I happened to glance over at my carefree sister, flipping her hair blissfully and prancing into one of the small valleys our backyard held. My vision flickered. I saw her again, but this time farther away from me. It was as if she'd just disappeared and then reappeared 5 yards ahead of where she'd been just seconds before. But, there was also something wrong with the scene. It was blurry, like looking through someone else's glasses when you don't need them. And the edges were shaking. Oh, crap. Am I going blind? Am I going mad? What's wrong with me?

My jumbled and confused thoughts turned to ones of panic as Cynthia reached the bottom of the valley, smiled and waved up at me, then looked into the sky and turned alabaster white. The air was quickly filling with black smoke, the smell of gasoline, and the most discordant, ear-piercing sound you ever heard. A small plane was diving around the sky, shaking, and flipping, circling in spirals until, nose-down, crashed into the valley where my sister had been. The plane burst into flames, lighting the grass on fire, and blew up in an earth-shaking crash.

My vision flickered again. This time, it was normal, no shaking or blurriness. Cynthia. No plane. About 10 feet away from me, prancing, heading towards the bottom of the valley.

The plane. Fire raising it's fingers to the sky, nothing but smoke. Loud, scary, chaos.

My sister. Halfway down the valley. Crap, crap, CRAP!

I screamed, "CYNTHIA! COME BACK! COME BACK, NOW!"

Thank God she was an obedient child. Scared my expression, I think, she sprinted back up to the edge of the valley, where I was standing. I took her in my arms and squeezed the life out of her. I didn't know what to think. What had happened? Had it even happened? Was I really going mad?

I looked up, still hugging Cynthia as tight as I could. There was no sight of a crashing plane, smoke, or fire.

"Hey, hey okay, enough with the love fest! What's the matter?" She pulled back, and looked at my face.

"Nothing…I…" I didn't know what to say…"Hey, Cynthia, I just saw you die in a plane crash at the bottom of that valley, so I figured I'd better call you back up here"? Yeah, THAT would go over well.

"Liss, you alright?" Using my nickname, she pulled my face up until I had to look at her. Although 3 years older, I was still much shorter than my loving sister.

"Yeah…well, truthfully, I just wanted to tell you-" but Cynthia never got to hear what I wanted to tell her, because at that moment, both of our head snapped up to look at the sky. Ear-spitting grinding, crashing, sparking noises filled the air as one of the plane's engines blew up, and the plane came spiraling down into the valley where my sister had been headed only minutes before. As I had seen, the plane blew up, lighting everything in it's path on fire, and bits of metal and ash rained down from the sky.

I didn't realize I'd just been standing there with an open mouth until Cynthia yanked my arm, hard, and dragged me along with her as we ran as far as we could away from the explosion. After we'd made it about an acre, we both fell, panting, onto the grass. I looked back at the crash - all that was left was bits of metal here and there, some fire from where the grass was still alight, and lots of ash.

We were safe for the time being, and it started to rain, putting out the rest of the fire, and drenching us to the bone. In Colorado, we had cold, cold rain that felt like it was soaking into your veins, and with only our Sunday dresses on, Cynthia and I soon began to shiver violently. We got up, and walked back 2 miles to our house.

It was the longest walk I'd ever had. Not only the distance, nor the ice-cold rain, but the pounding of my head and thoughts flying around the bees in my skull. I had two more "visions" (as I soon came to call them) on the way back. Both blurry, shaking, and drifting back and forth between the real world and it's world. The first one was dark. I could hear inhuman screaming and pounding on what sounded like metal and fist. It scared me. The second one was happy. It was of 5 of the most beautiful people (if you could even call them that) I'd ever seen. They were all sitting in a large room with glass walls. The youngest (or so it looked) was playing the piano gracefully - a tune I could tell could only be preformed by a master. A kind-looking lady was standing beside him, looking as proud as a mom on graduation day. One large, muscular, dark-haired boy was playing chess with the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life - luscious, blonde hair, slender frame, and long eyelashes. Just the way I'd imagined a princess to look. The last, a yellowish-white-haired man was reading a book on their spacious sofa. They were all so different, and yet so alike in small but noticable ways. They all had the palest skin I'd ever seen on a person, the exact same shade, and the same golden eyes. I wanted the vision to last longer, but when my vision flickered back to reality, I realized it was over and I'd probably never see that beautiful family (at least, I presumed they were) again. By the time we got back, we were both freezing, numb, and soaked.

Not ready to explain to our parents what happened, I fell, exhausted, down onto one of the cushioned love seats on our screen porch. I buried my face in my hands, and heaved a big sigh. I felt Cynthia's hand on my shoulder, and looking up, saw that she was crying. I pulled her down beside me on the love seat, and wrapped my arms around her as she buried her face into my neck and sobbed.

"You saved my life," she said in between two exceptionally violent shudders. "How did you do it? How did you know?"

All of my muscles clenched up. I froze. How had I done it? I'd thought about it on the miserable walk home, and prayed that Cynthia would think it was coincidence. I knew now that she wasn't THAT dumb.

I was loony tunes. That was the only explanation I could think of. How else had I been able to know what was coming before it actually happened? I was going mad. With this thought in my head, I buried my face into my little sister's hair and sobbed along with her.

I had seen the future, and I didn't have the slightest clue how.