Hi everyone!
I haven't written fan fiction properly in several years. I have had this story floating around in my head for a while. I wanted to give what I felt would have been a more realistic telling of Twilight with a Bella/Jasper pairing. I have several more chapters of this story hand written in a journal I'm keeping, so I will be slowly transcribing it and updating as regularly as I can.
As always, I do not own Twilight.
Please enjoy, read and review! Also, this story is not beta'd. If you notice any mistakes, they are my own.
CHAPTER ONE
It started on a rainy night, not unlike so many other stories do. Lightning struck a tree somewhere in the distance – seemingly announcing my arrival in Washington and the beginning of the end of my last year of high school.
My dad was busy struggling with my two huge suitcases (veritably my entire life) while I thanked the taxi Renee' had thoughtfully paid for in advance. The driver sped off without a second glance, having completed the transaction. Mud splashed up at my new rain boots I'd purchased just for this new chapter in my life – since Nevada was considerably drier than my new location.
Charlie struggled to carry on chivalrously toting both of my bags and trying to open the front door without setting them down.
Some things would never change.
And some things would never feel normal or familiar—
I leapt into action to help Charlie into the house. We sent a splay of rain droplets in as we hung our coats. I chanced a look around.
Even though the warmth of the sun, the feel of dry sand between my toes, and my many tiny cacti and succulents called my name – the strangely familiar and unfamiliar-ness of the pitter pattering of rain and claps of thunder felt entrancing and welcome.
"Welcome home, kiddo," Charlie says, uncomfortable with the silence.
"Thanks, dad," I offer equally as uncomfortable.
I would never get used to having to fill silences, that job belonged solely to my hair brained mother who had earned that title a thousand times over. Adjusting to my father's personality would take some getting used to. Mostly because we were more alike than I'd like to admit. The distance caused by my parent's separation had no lasting results, thankfully, the awkwardness was genetic and not situational.
Before I knew it we were shuffling up the stairs and were standing in my old room. Nothing has changed except for the alien duvet on my bed. I give it the side eye and Charlie is quick to notice.
"You like it? The sales lady said young women like purple."
Purple is probably my favorite color, the duvet is lavender though.
I clear my throat and caress the cover, making a show of feeling its softness and appraising its quality.
He grins and drops my bags, "I'm glad you like it. I wasn't sure what else to change. Maybe it'll give you some thing to do until school starts this weekend."
Redecorating didn't sound horrible so I flashed him a smile for his efforts. "Ok, maybe we can go shopping in Port Angeles soon to pick up a few things."
Charlie watched me walk over to my window and place the tiny cactus I'd brought with me from Nevada on the window sill – where it would receive meager sunlight.
It was going to have a hard time growing and blooming in rainy Washington, I just hoped that wasn't the case for me, also.
Charlie took my musing time as his chance to exit and mumbled something about ordering dinner for us over his shoulder as he left. Of course, mom had never cooked for dad, and dad had never bothered to learn. Charlie was in for a rude awakening if this was his routine. I wasn't picky about a lot of things, but not eating healthy, home cooked meals was one of my pet peeves.
He left the door to my room cracked when he left but that was enough privacy for me. I flopped back onto my bed and rolled over to text my mom about my arrival.
I have successfully time traveled to the past.
Every teenager has their allotted time for dramatic overreactions and the time for that was now.
My mom shot me a text back ridiculously quick for someone so technologically challenged – my cellphone gave me a pleasant chirp alerting me to it.
Great honey! Change history, that's my girl!
Either mom was being willfully ignorant of my complaint, or she was blissfully ignorant. Regardless, she wasn't being very helpful. Though reading and writing had my heart, I couldn't help but dread thinking of trying to pull Charlie out of the stone ages this next year. He didn't even own a cellphone for God's sake.
Still, Renee's words, though empty and teasing, rung through my mind until I was forced to acknowledge the irony. I, Bella Swan, was the last person who would ever change history.
"I wish," I muttered, rolling over again onto my side, and fishing a journal out of my messenger bag – the only thing Charlie had let me carry inside.
A derisive snort came out of me before I could stop it. I wasn't a world shaker, a life changer, a what-have-you.
A familiar book, a quiet space, a spot in the sun… People who were more comfortable with fictitious characters than real ones – these people never made history. They observed it, recorded it, even.
It's how I knew I'd make a good author. I was a professional wallflower. The eyes and ears, but never the face.
Now wasn't the time to think about that though, it was time to record history. And so my pen touched the page and my mind and thoughts flew away from me before I could stop them.