Chapter One: Me
DISCLAIMER: TWILIGHT AND ALL ITS CHARACTERS BELONG TO AND ONLY!
Author's Note: Hieeeee! My name is Shriya and this is my very first fanfic! I've been reading fanfic for a long time so i decided to give it a try. I do not have a beta so there may be errors! I honestly hate fanfics with grammatical errors and I don't read so do lemme know if you see any! I am forever in love with Seth Clearwater, and this story is about what I know best, being an Indian kid with parents that control their lives. IN NO WAY AM I BEING RACIST THROUGH THIS FANFIC! I know many Indian families who are supportive of love. Some are just traditional, like mine. And Meena's. SO REVIEW! PLEASE! I KNOW YOU WON'T CUZ I NEVER DO...BUT WHATEVER...I HAVE TO ASK RIGHT? ENJOY!
me
miː/
pronoun
1.
used by a speaker to refer to himself or herself as the object of a verb or preposition.
"do you understand me?"
2.
informal
used in exclamations.
Meena's POV
The first thing my father said to me when we decided to move to La Push, Washington was I quote, "Meena, the school system is not graded well, but I trust you will work hard and make it to Stanford anyway."
It wasn't 'I'm sure you'll make friends!' or 'You'll get used to the town sweetie.' It was about grades. School. College. My future as some sort of software developer. It didn't bother me. Not really anyway. I was used to it. I knew that my parents were not out to get me. They just wanted a better future for me.
My name is Meena Bala. No middle name. I'm fully 100% Indian and proud of it. I come from a highly traditional family. I had it all, a great family, money, culture, community, grades and talents. I was a model child. No matter how much I was loved, I was suppressed in a way I couldn't place. I didn't have a prim, proper life like it sounds. Yet, I never felt free.
Deep inside I knew exactly what I wanted. I also knew that it was never going to happen. It would be a disgrace to my family. My parents would choose my love. They would decide what my life would be like. It sounds atrocious but its just the way I was raised. I trusted my parents. Like they had trusted theirs. I was afraid of disappointing them when they gave me so much and gave me so much freedom. The last thing I wanted to do betray their trust.
Every time I brought up the topic, my dad would say that practicality and family goes over love. I nodded every time, just to end that conversation. However, a little part of me screamed no. I just kept nodding.
The car halting to a stop shocked me out of my thoughts. I looked out the window to see a decent sized house with dark blue shutters and a grand two-story towering over me. Not as big as back home in New Jersey, but giant compared to the little cottages that dotted the streets of this rez. I vaguely heard my father scream something as I absently dragged my black suitcase into the house, leaving my mom, dad and sister to deal with the bigger luggage.
"Meena! Slow down!" my sister whined indignantly, dragging her gaudy pink duffel across the gravel driveway, trying to catch up with me.
I ignored her.
"I told you not to buy the monstrosity of a bag" I yelled back at her. The last thing I heard was a huff of annoyance before I pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
Meet my big sister, Maya. Yup. My parents went there. Maya and Meena. The queen of pink, makeup and everything absolutely girly. I was her polar opposite. Not that I was sporty or anything. I was awkward, slightly bookish, and it took a lot to get to know me. I was very guarded, I tried my hardest at everything I did. I worried over the most stupid things. Insane if pushed. I was different with everyone. So nobody really knew all of me. Not even me.
My thought were once again rudely interrupted by Maya.
"Meeeeena. Thanks a lot for leaving me behind" she grumbled, pushing past me, and dropping her bags roughly on the floor, collapsing onto the sofa that had arrived a week before.
"Bye." I waved, pulling my suitcase to my pre-claimed room. It was sky blue. My bed was already there, in all it's shining glory. It was all basically set up, thanks to my aunt who lived in Seattle.
She was, let's say, exuberant. She drove 3 hours out to the middle of nowhere, AKA La Push, and actually set up our entire house.
I lay eagle spread on the familiar striped sheets and stared at the ceiling.
I was almost asleep, when an obnoxious voice was at my door. Again.
"Go away," I whined into my pillow, waiting for Maya's retreating steps.
But no. Maya came over, whipped the pillow out from under my face, letting nose crash into the mattress, and rolled me over on my back.
"We're going to beach. Now. And Amma (mom) says I have to take you too."
She was a horror. I sighed and eyed my sister. She was wearing shorts and a white shirt, but skillfully hidden under the neck of her shirt was a thin black bikini strap.
I smirked. Smart.
Jumping out of bed, I let my travel clothes on the floor and threw on the shorts and tank my sister had fished from my suitcase. I pulled my hair in a bun, tucked a book under my arm and made my way to the car with my sister. After all, who in their right mind would be at the beach at 9 in the morning.
When my sister pulled up at the beach, I let out a sigh of relief. Maya was a horrific driver to say the least. Even after 2 years or having her permit, at 17 years old, she couldn't drive to save her life. I was only 15, but my whole family was just waiting for the day when I got my permit and took the wheel from my sister. Maybe then, our lives would be guaranteed.
I guess that Quileutes weren't in their right mind cause as I stepped out of the car, the first things I saw were giant, and I mean enormous men. 8 of them, big enough to make up for the absence of people at the beach. And they were all shirtless. Tackling each other to the ground, tossing around a football.
Beside me my sister swooned, earning a well deserved smack from me.
After standing around for a few seconds, I decided that she wasn't going to snap out of it soon, hugged my book closer, and edged around the guys towards the rocks by the shore.
And because I was me, forever cursed and klutzy, I had to be hit by a flying football. I felt my knees buckle from under me and as the darkness started to creep in through the edges of my vision. Then, I met his eyes. Chocolate slathered my vision, and all I could see was the swirls of gold in that warmth of brown. But all too soon, the world went dark.
