******* The characters in this story were inspired by Twilight but aren't completely true to their characteristics in the novels, so don't kill me if a character's actions don't seem reasonable, lol. All Human. This is going to be a fairly short story so it's great for a quick read. PLEASE REVIEW!!!
Chapter One: Freak
So, I'm pretty much a freak. I mean it. I'm like one of those sideshows that they always have at the circus; you know the ones with the bearded-lady or the man with a horn growing out of his forehead. Only I don't have a beard. Or a horn. No, what I am is so much weirder than mutations, although I'm probably a mutant, but I can't know for sure. I mean, you can't just go up to your doctor and be like, "Hey, I think I'm coming down with something. What disease causes you to see things that haven't happened yet?" For crying out loud, if you were a doctor what would you say to that, "Yeah, lots of kids your age show signs of schizophrenia don't worry about it?" I don't think so. I would be lucky to escape a straight jacket let alone actually find out if I am eligible to become a certified X-Men member. So, yeah. I am a freak, I wasn't kidding.
Let me assure you, seeing the future is not at all fun. It's extremely easy to get all mixed up about what's already happened and what is going to happen. The first time that I had a vision was when I was six years old. I probably had one before that but, like I said, the future kind of blends into the present.
Anyway, I was sitting in my preschool classroom and listening oh so intently to Dr. Seuss' How the Grinch Stole Christmas, when out of nowhere I got a splitting headache. When the throbbing pain finally stopped, let me tell you, I was not singing some lame song with Cindy Lou Who, oh no, I was in the middle of a raging fire. Of course I had no idea what was going on, I mean, the preschool was going up in flames like a Roman candle, so I screamed my head off. I swear, if M. Night Shyamalan were to have seen my performance, I would have totally gotten the lead in his next horror movie. But what was I supposed to do? I was wicked freaked out. When my mom finally came to pick me up, (the teacher was completely unsure how to handle my random freak-out and had resorted to calling up the parental units), I thought it was just a dream or something. Like maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me how badly I hate reading about little, happy people dancing around a Christmas tree.
I may have been only six, but I wasn't stupid. When my mom didn't bring me back to school the next morning, I had my suspicions. When I saw the charred foundations of what was left of Carousel Early Learning Center, they were cemented. So, like I said, I wasn't stupid. I saw the way Miss Betty Mae, my teacher, had giving me the evil eye when I was screaming my head off. I knew not to tell anybody about this little glitch I have.
And you know what? I was insanely good at it too. More than good; I was masterful at it. I was Obi Wan-Kenobi when it came to keeping my visions a secret. But there's always a Darth Vader standing in the wings, ready to run you through with a light saber. Mine came in the form of a five foot one, snot-nosed wannabe named Vikki Caraway. And guess what? She had red, banana-curled pigtails. Yeah I know, I wasn't threatened by her at first either. I mean at least Darth Vader has that whole Dark Lord of the Sith thing going, but there was no way for me to know that Vikki was harboring a demon beneath that hideous pink sweater set.
So, why am I equating Vikki Caraway to Darth Vader? Simple. Because she's the bitch that narced on me. She actually went out of her way to make sure that I was forever publicly deemed a freak of nature. Who would have suspected that kind of evil from a chick whose first name is Vikki? Isn't it like a law or something that states if you have a name like Sunshine, Rainbow…or Vikki you should be eternally chipper? I was under the impression that there was, but apparently her parents weren't aware of that specific law when they named the spawn of Satan Vikki.
I normally don't call people names like "the spawn of Satan" or "Darth Vader," so don't get me wrong. I consider myself a pretty nice person. I mean, I'm no Miss Congenitally or anything, but I can dish out some pretty nice compliments if I'm in the mood. I may not have an entourage of friends, but I have two wicked cool best friends and that's all I really need.
Rosalie and Mike have been my best friends since conception, basically. Our parents are pretty tight, you know. They all went to high school together, or something. Narragansett is one of those places that people never really leave, but more people are always coming to. I can't imagine why they're attracted to it. I mean, it's Rhode Island, for Pete's sake. Only fifty percent of Americans even realizes that RI is a state. For the other fifty percent, here's a wakeup call because you obviously fell asleep in fourth grade geography class: Rhode Island is NOT part of Massachusetts! Got it?
Anyways, Narragansett is okay I guess, if you like the beach, which I don't. Say what you will, but I do not like the ocean. The sand sticks all over your Coppertone slathered legs and when the water isn't freezing it taste like a salt lick. I don't know about you, but I'm not a cow and therefore, do not like to feel as though I just swallowed ten tablespoons of salt. Unfortunately for me, however, Rosalie and Mike are way into the whole "let's go to the beach as much as is empirically possible" thing. So I am dragged to Scarbourgh Beach at least three times a week. Rosalie is intent of developing as much skin cancer as she possibly can. Actually, that's not completely true. She is going for the greatest tan in South County, but what's the difference really.
Mike is more into the surfing thing. Yeah, I know, we're in Rhode Island, it's not exactly prime location for surfing, but I'm talking about windsurfing which is so much cooler. I have admit that it is pretty much the greatest invention in the world, but you can't exactly windsurf with annoying twelve year olds splashing around, can you. So we have to wait until after the beach closes and by that time the optimum sun tanning period is over and Rosalie pretty much refuses to step onto a board. Basically, the main point that you should extract from this rant is that I hate the beach.
Rosalie is a five foot six, blond bombshell. That pretty much sums it up. She has these really bright blue eyes and really tanned skin (as you already know). She is an Aryan goddess and, amazingly, she's only half the snob that you would expect from someone who looks like her. She is really cool and can take a good joke, which is supremely important when choosing a friend. I mean, you don't want to end up with a best friend who is so serious all the time; that would be so boring.
She isn't the sharpest tool in the shed though. She's not stupid, don't get me wrong, but she's no Einstein either. She doesn't have very much common sense. Like one time, we were walking home from school and this guy pulled up on the side of us and was all "do you guys want a ride." I mean, we were twelve years old and Rosalie was about to accept. I didn't have to have a vision of the two of us bound and gagged in the back of his car to know he was bad news, they taught us not to get in cars with strangers in kindergarten, but apparently Rosalie missed that lesson. Don't worry, though, we didn't get kidnapped. I made up an extremely amazing cover story about how we just had to walk to the corner market were my dad, Sheriff McNaught, was waiting for us. That got that pervert moving. And when he was speeding away, I took down his plates and called the real Sheriff McNaught, who isn't my father by the way. I always have to look out for her, you know, she might get hurt if I don't. But I don't mind.
Mike, on the other hand, is a little bit of a geek, but can be cool sometimes, like with the whole windsurfing thing. He's a classic geek though, not one of those new-age X-Box obsessed weirdoes that hardly ever surface from their consoles. No, Mike is the kind of geek that is always reading books by unpronounceable Russian authors who have most likely been dead for a couple of centuries. In my opinion, that's pretty cool. I mean his geekiness. It's extremely helpful to have a pro-researcher at my disposal in case I need to prevent one of my visions from happening.
I have to protect him a lot, too. You have no idea how many visions I get of Mike being stuffed into a locker. Yeah, I didn't know that people actually did things like stuffing geeky boys into lockers; it must be influenced by TV or something. Anyways, remember how I said that I was a pretty nice person before. I am, but sometimes I have to intervene on Mike's account. Translation: I have to beat up a few jocks. I may only be four foot eleven and barely one hundred pounds, but I throw a mean punch. And the best part is that those jocks have too much pride to go running to the administration and turn me in. They don't want anybody to know that they got that shiner from a girl not from an intense brawl at the basketball game. Mike doesn't know any of this though, I mean, I'm sure he has pride too.
Rosalie and Mike are two out of three people who actually know about my mutation, well that is before Vikki came into the picture. I know, it's a pretty elite club. The third person who is privy to my deep dark secret is my older brother Edward who is insanely helpful with "vision-prevention" as I call it. Edward is the classic example of a sophisticated older brother. He dresses in those nice Gap sweaters you see in magazine ads and his boxers never hang out of his 505's. He's about as sensitive and nice as a guy can get without being considered gay. He isn't like Jacob, my other older brother. No sir. Jacob is always rubbing my whole lack of a driver's license issue in my face. It's not my fault that I'm pretty much the youngest Junior at Narragansett High, but he still doesn't understand that I had no part in deciding what day I was born. I love Jacob and all, but we have this unspoken agreement to act as though we hate each other's guts. It's much easier than showing affection so why change a good thing?
Edward, on the other hand, is always offering to drive me places, I don't even have to ask. I mean, how many people have such sweet brothers? Not many. I seriously don't know where Jacob gets over being such a dorkus. He pretty much resembles a pig and has no friends. Well alright, he has like two really lame friends, but that's not much better. He always pretends that I'm some little kid and he is so much more mature than I can even begin to imagine. Well, I guess he's so mature that he has started the cycle over again and is repeating the five year old stage. He's only one year older than me, too!
Edward, who is three years older than me, never condescends. He always goes out of his way to help me out with my visions even though he is a popular frat boy and could probably be spending his evenings partying with kids much cooler than I am instead of driving me to the local Seven-Eleven to stop a robbery. Of course, his disinterest in the URI party scene may have something to do with the fact that he is madly in love with my soon to be sister-in-law Bella Swan (to be exact, Edward will propose to her in five months, three weeks, and two days) who is currently in Ecuador on a Peace Corps stint. It helps get his pathetically-whipped mind off of Bella if he plays chauffeur and carts me around to various crime scenes, hence why Edward knows about my defect and not Jacob.
I didn't tell my parents because no matter how much they say "you can tell us anything, sweetheart," I totally know that's a lie (trust me I'm psychic). Like if I were to say to them, "I have visions of the future, what do think about that?" they would definitely be regretting the whole "you can tell us anything" spiel. So welcome to my world, well the world before Vikki Caraway moved to Rhode Island.
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Vikki came into my life on September 1, the first day the eleventh grade. It was a sunny, chipper morning which is ironic seeing as though the Princess of Darkness was walking around Narragansett. It seems so contradictory. Like usual, Rosalie came to pick me up for school, Mike already scurrying into the backseat like the gentleman he is. Jacob has as car and all, but I wouldn't be caught dead in it.
It's a 1988 Volkswagen Rabbit. Nothing against that particular car or anything, but it's pretty embarrassing to be seen in the passenger's seat. Not only that, but if Jacob is the one driving it then count me out. I'm one hundred percent sure that he wouldn't give me a ride, anyway. No, I'd much rather travel to school in style, riding shotgun in Rosalie's beautiful 2006 Audi A6. She is loaded, did I mention that. Her grandparents own one of the Newport Mansions. She invited me to sleepover once and it was like I was in a medieval castle, it was so cool. Like always, she tooted the horn twice and turned up the music so that the bass was bumping.
"Hey, Cullen. What took you so long?" Rosalie asked over the blare of Indy rock music.
"That was record time. It only took me ten minutes. What do you expect, it's the first day of school?" I replied as I slide into the plush, leather seat of the Audi.
"I was impressed, Ali. I thought it would take you at least twenty minutes, like last year," Mike said as he clicked his buckle into place.
"We should totally cut you off after two minutes and force you to drive to school with the slime ball. I hear the Rabbit is attracting quite a lot of ladies, no?" Rose said.
"You wouldn't dare," I glanced over at them and just to be sure I theatrically placed my index finger against my temple and closed my eyes. A rush of images came flooding beneath my eyelids, like a movie that's fast forwarding. I picked out the one I wanted, and was very discouraged when I saw my adorable self huddled between two of my brothers friends in the back seat of the Rabbit. From this vantage point, I could see that Paul the Perve, as I call him, was stroking my arm, but I didn't seem to notice, probably because I thought it was the flab on his arms bouncing around due to the gravel driveway. Talk about creepy! I opened my eyes and saw that both Rosalie and Mike were trying to hold in their snickers at my expression. "You guys really suck!" I told them and they burst out laughing.
"I may be your best friend, love, but I'm evil," Rosalie said with a giggle.
Mike was hardcore geeking out in the backseat. He was practically strangling himself with the seatbelt. "You should have seen your face, Alice! You looked like you were being branded with a hot poker! What did you see anyway?"
"I saw my two best friends leaving me to fend for myself while Paul the Perve practically molested me in the backseat. Thanks a lot guys," I said harshly. I couldn't believe they would seriously do that, I mean, if it wasn't for me, they would both be screwed by now.
"Wow, I didn't know that we were that harsh, Mi. Think of all the possibilities," Rosalie said with a maniacal grin. Mike winked at her and then they both broke off into another wave of laughter. Even I was having a hard time keeping a straight face, that is of course, after I took a quick peek into the future and was absolutely positive that I would be riding comfortably in the Audi this time tomorrow.
As rose pulled smoothly into her designated parking spot of the Junior lot, I spotted Vikki for the first time. I didn't know it then, but she was going to be the bane of my existence. "Look at that fruit in pig-tails," Rose said. "Is she going to church or something?"
"She's in for a nasty surprise," I said with a grimace on my face. Hey, how was I to know that a monster lurked behind those perfectly symmetrical pig-tails (and don't even give me the whole "your psychic, you should've known" thing, I've heard it all before). Of course I feel really stupid now for pitying her, but whatever.
"Hey, did you hear that the library just got twenty-five new Apple computers? Isn't that the coolest thing in the world? Now we can actually get some work down without waiting forty minutes for the internet to load up!" Mike said. He apparently took no interest in the new student/spawn of Satan. I mean, we normally get one to two new students per year so it wasn't that out of the ordinary and compared to new computers in the Library, Vikki didn't stand a chance at keeping Mike's attention.
First bell rang and I waved goodbye to Rosalie and Mike who headed towards the H-P homeroom wing (Rosalie Hale and Mike Newton, get it?) and I headed towards room 12, a.k.a the C-room.
Here is where doomsday began. Mr. Walter had us line up along the back wall; I swear, I thought I was going to get gunned down or something. But, anyways we were suppose to sit when he called our names so that we would be in alphabetical order, you know, like every teacher does the first day of school, except that Mr. Walters was way creepier about. I totally knew that I was going to be in the second seat in the third row, but oh no, Mr. Walter made me get up and stand in line anyway. Not that he knew I was psychic or anything, but I did have him two years in a row. He should've at least known that I was in the right spot when he looked at the chart. I also knew that Vikki Caraway would be in front of me and some other new kid, who was extremely gorgeous by the way, named Jasper Culkin, would be sitting in back of me.
So when Mr. Walter called "Cullen, Alice" and pointed to the second seat in the third row, all I could do was roll my eyes.
Let me just tell you, I wasn't too thrilled to be sitting in back of little Miss Sunshine/Princess of Darkness. But, hey I'm a nice enough person, so I decided to introduce myself to her and the hottie behind me (who I wasn't as irked by).
"Hey Vikki, isn't it? You must be new here," I said graciously as I extended my hand towards hers.
"Oh, you think. Have you ever seen me in homeroom before? Wow, you're such a genius," she said; believe me it was pretty much the rudest thing possible to say in this situation. And to add insult to injury, she whipped me in the face with one of those ghastly pig tails when she turned to face forward again. I was pretty much stunned.
"Ouch, No good deed goes unpunished," a beautiful, velvet-smooth voice said. I gracefully turned to face the beautiful boy that was Jasper Culkin. "Hi Alice, my name's Jasper. Apparently nobody told Vikki over there the proper response to a greeting." He flashed me the most breathtaking smile I've ever seen. It had me swooning, and I do not swoon easily.
"Apparently not," I said coolly as I shook his hand. His hard, muscular hand. Let me just tell you, I normally am not one of those flirty, girly girls that try to pick up every boy they meet. But, I mean, how could I resist when I made eye contact with those piercing green eyes and blond curls framing his perfectly tanned face? Believe me, you would be all over that too. In fact, I saw a few ultra-preppy girls glaring at me, their mascara-slathered eyes brimming with envy. Oh, yeah. This was going to be an amazing year. Or so I thought. "So, where did you move from?"
"Boston…"
"Oh, no way. That's like the best city in the world. Why would you ever want to leave it? I'm mean, I know you had to an all, because of your mom getting remarried, but I would have definitely protested to that," I said.
So, I sort of have this thing where I say things without thinking them through. Normally, I'm extremely good about keeping things in check, but when I get nervous or excited, I just kind of ramble. It's not like I meant to freak out the totally hottie in front of me, I just didn't remember that he hadn't told me about his mother yet.
Okay, so not to go off on a complete tangent or anything, but I think that you might appreciate a little run down about how my visions work. When I first started to get them, they were really random and had to do directly with something or someone near me. Oh, yeah and they really hurt! Like getting hit in the head by a wrecking ball kind of pain. But as I got older I learned how to control my visions and now I hardly ever get them without purposefully searching for them. Yeah, that's the cool part. I basically am a search engine for all the possible courses that life can take and I can access any event in the future that I want. This means I can see what people are going to say, even though they might not actually say it if I intervene.
See, my visions aren't set in stone; instead they represent what would happen if I wasn't psychic and didn't mess around with the future. I do that on a regular basis, by the way. Mess with the future, I mean. How else am I going to get my kicks? Sometimes I do get those head splitting visions and all, but not too often.
Don't hate me for wanting to know a little more about Jasper. I mean, he is so HOT! So I looked like two seconds into the future. He was going to tell me anyway, so what's the big deal?
The big deal was that I totally blew my cover and probably freaked out the cutest guy in the school who didn't have any friends yet which made my chances of being his girlfriend wicked high.
Jasper gave me a flabbergasted expression, just as I expected. "Whoa! That so weird, I haven't talked to anybody about why I moved here! How did you know?"
"Um…..well…I guess that…I had a hunch," I replied hopefully. It sounded more like a question; even I wouldn't have believed that pathetic lie.
"Oh," Jasper said, he didn't seem to believe it either, but thankfully he didn't press the issue.
He even seemed as if he was going to continue our conversation, but of course Vikki had to chime in. "What are you like stalking him or something. That is totally weird. You're such a freak," she had me there. "Or are you a fortune teller? Hello, my name is Madame Chloe. Gaze into my crystal ball." Okay she was totally making fun of me, but it was sort of true. Except that I don't own a crystal ball and I don't plan on getting one anytime soon. Still, I don't like to be HE
the butt of anybody's jokes, maybe it is just my lack of self-esteem caused by my freaky ability, but whatever. Vikki had definitely hit a nerve.
"Ha ha ha. Aren't we the comedian," I said. And then I punched her in the nose. Really hard too. There was blood everywhere.
"Miss Cullen! What are you doing!!!! Somebody take Miss Caraway to the nurse!!! Quickly, she's bleeding all over my floor!!" Mr. Walter screamed. Some skinny boy with a horrible complexion obliged out of fear and escorted the screaming, bloodied Vikki Caraway to the nurse's office.
"Alice, what was that? I expected more from you…"
"She was totally provoked," Jasper said. My stomach practically jumped out of my body.
"I don't care! Go to the principal's office, now!" he said with his hand pointing toward the door. I did a little future check, only three detentions for that satisfying cartilage crunching of Little Miss Pigtails' nose? I'd pay that price any day.
"Okay, Mr. Walter, see you tomorrow," I said all nicey-nice. Mr. Walter did not return the niceties, but Jasper did and who really cares about Mr. Walter anyway?
"Later, A.C," he said. A.C, I know it's sort of stupid and it's also the abbreviation for air conditioner, but it was so cool when he said it. I turned around and gave him a flirtatious wave.
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I wasn't at all broken up about smashing Vikki's face in. I guess I was upset with the whole getting in trouble for it deal, but her shrieks of pain were totally worth whatever punishment was to be dealt out.
It just so happens that the nurse's office is adjacent to the principal's office, so I got the added bonus of she Vikki yet again with a bloody gauze stuck up her already bruising nose.
"Ahh, Hello Miss Cullen, starting off the year right, I see," said Principal Hart. "What's the crime?" Mr. Hart was a pretty cool guy. He was wicked chill about all the mischief us little scamps get into. I guess he takes the "I was a child once, too" point of view.
"I punched the new girl in the face," I said curtly. I figured that I mind as well get it over with; I already knew that I was going to get three detentions (which in my opinion is petty cash payment for the fulfilling experience of socking Vikki).
Mr. Hart's jaw dropped a little, just like I knew it would. "Alice, this is not your style." How would you know what my style is, buddy? "Why would you ever do something like that and to the new girl, to boot?" To boot, oh he did not just say to boot! "Well, Miss Cullen, what's the deal?"
"She was making fun of me when I was trying to be nice to her. She has to learn to think about what she says before she says it or else she might get hurt. I was just trying to do her a favor."
"That is not how you go about solving your problems, you should have confronted her verbally rather than punching her in the face," he said.
"I know, Mr. Hart. I promise it'll never happen again." I fluttered my eyelashes like I was completely innocent. It normally always works. You see, I've been told that I have the face an avenging angel: vulnerable and sweet looking, but not exactly an accurate representation of what is behind the mask of innocence. My chestnut brown eyes, smooth cream-colored skin, and black spiky hair really do work in my favor.
Mr. Walter gave me a disapproving, but defeated look. "I'm going to take your word for it, Alice, but you really can't go around punching people in the face. You're supposed to make the new girl feel welcome. Narragansett High prides itself on is friendly camaraderie and brotherly love. I would have expected you to have extended a helping hand to Vikki rather that to extend a fist."
"I know, Mr. Walter. I, too, am disappointed with myself. I let my emotions get the better of me. I had full intentions of befriending Vikki, but when she didn't return the kindness that I had so graciously bestowed upon her, my self-esteem must have been affected. You have no idea how hard it is to be a teenage girl, Mr. Walter. Always having to be perfect and seemingly happy. I'm sure Vikki feels the same way and was just nervous about her first day here at the prestigious Narragansett High. I feel mighty awful about this whole affair." Boy was I laying it on thick, there was no way in hell Mr. Walter would believe the string of lies that I was spinning.
"Okay, Alice. A little overdramatic, but I give you brownie points you're your performance. I do believe that your heart is in the right place." That worked out better than I expected.
"So what's the verdict, how long am I in for?" I said, knowing full well what the answer would be.
"I think three after school detentions should do the trick, but if you do it again I'll be cracking skulls." No joke, he seriously quoted the Breakfast Club. I so wanted to say "Eat my shorts" back to him, but thought better of it when I realized it was going to earn me another detention. So, instead, I just said "Thanks, Mr. Hart," and left to go to period 1. The first bell had rung about two minutes before, so there were only a few stragglers still in the halls when it happened.
The door to Mr. Hart's office was barely closed when my head split open. Well, not really, but that's how it felt to me. I couldn't think of anything but the pain, until another image crossed my mind. It was of a young girl, probably about eight years old, being dragged into a white van. From the looks of it, she had unknowingly wandered off from an outdoor gym class at the elementary school and was being forcefully abducted. Like I said before, this sort of thing doesn't normally happen, and when it does, there's no way for me to know when the events are going to go down because I'm not searching for a specific time, like I had earlier that morning and in Mr. Hart's office. But, lucky for me and this little girl, the Bank of America across the street from the elementary school has one of those billboards that flash the date, time and temperature. September 1, 2008; 9:23 AM; 75oF.
Suddenly the location changed and I was in a dark musty room. There were about five other children in the room; all of them wearing black cloth masks over their heads like the kind you see in movies. Suddenly, everything went black.
I was jolted out of my vision by the annoying clanking of school bell, and take a wild guess who was stand in front of me? Yeah, bandage nose Vikki. She gave me a skeptical look that screamed You-Are-An-Uber-Freak, before saying in a nasally voice, "What's going to happen at 9:23 and why are you screaming the date down the hall? Are you some sort of freak?" See told you.
"Mind your own business," I said rather unimaginatively, but I had a kid to save and she was totally cramping my style.
