Alright, first off, this my first attempt at Twilight fanfiction and I'm also primarily a movie fan who's only read Eclipse. But I'm currently reading the other books to get a better feel for what I'm writing in this Fic.

And speaking of this Fic, I'm writing primary because I've always wondered what would happen if someone showed up before our beloved Bella Swan, which is how this came to be. I intend to cover all four books in three separate stories, this being the first with New Moon and Eclipse covered in the sequel, which is currently outlined. But we'll we see how this goes.

Now enough explaining! On with the story!

Chapter 1: Rejuvenate Your Art

With my bottom lip squished between my teeth, I stared down at the blank page before me. It had been blank for five days.

It had been blank when my mom had announce that we were moving from sunny Florida to rainy Forks.

It had been blank while my brother Liam had the temper tantrum of the century and locked himself in his room with a big bag of bubblegum that he claimed he could live off of for a decade.

It had been blank while I called my best friend Maggie to tell her the news and while she promised she'd come get me and bring me back if I ever asked.

It had been blank while I packed everything I owned into my luggage bags then opened the big one again to let our foster cat Rudolph out of it.

And it was blank now, as I sat with my brother's head lolling on my shoulder as my mom drove us to our new home from the airport in our rental car. I sighed and gently placed my pen down on my lap despite my utter frustration. Liam was a lovable terror when he was awake, but even worse when he'd just been woken up.

That was exactly why, instead of anything I liked, or anything my mom liked for that matter, a soft, instrumental song played on the radio. Music soothed the savage beast indeed. My gaze went to the window. We were driving past some kind of vast wooded area, with trees far taller than any I'd ever seen in the sunshine state.

Something sprinted through them, and I sat up. It had looked a bit like a deer, though it was a little hard to tell. Thousands upon thousands of little raindrops tapped against the window, making the scenery look like one of my mom's paint drip paintings. Maybe that was why she'd chosen this place. What better way to rejuvenate your art than choosing a location that had the exact opposite flora and fauna than where you'd lived your entire life?

I looked at my notebook, the white blank page glaring up at me. Maybe this would rejuvenate my "art" too. God knows I hadn't had a good story idea in months.

"Serena?" Mom whispered, glancing back briefly before returning her eyes to the road. Normally I would sit up front with her, but after ten minutes of "are we there yet?" we'd decided that I was the only one who could occupy Liam. Luckily for me the seven year old had fallen asleep not five minutes after I'd moved. My mom probably thought my presence was soothing. But I knew it was just him crashing from the giant candy bar I'd given him on the plane.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Are you...are you okay?" Her voice took on her typical worried mother tone. I nodded my head, glancing down at Liam's sleeping form.

"Yeah, I'm fantastic. Though I think he's starting to drool on me." I chuckled softly, but Mom didn't join in. As the laugh died on my lips only the beating of the rain, the classical music, and the growl of the car motor remained. An odd symphony of sounds to say the least.

I couldn't help but notice that we were in a town now, halted at a stop light. Mom looked back at me again and I could see a little bit of blue paint flakes in her black hair. Tiny crows feet crinkled the brown skin at the corner of her honey eyes. Sometimes I thought it wasn't fair that my little brother had inherited our dad's blue eyes and olive skin and I was fated to be a dead ringer for Mom. But when I took time to look at her, I couldn't help but feel a little proud.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, Serena." A small smile formed from my lips and I closed my notebook. I could stare at that blank page some other time.

"I'm fine, Mom, really," I told her. And I wasn't lying. In all honesty, I was kind of happy we'd moved. Being stuck in one place for so long hadn't just taken its toll on her. It had affected all of us one way or another. And considering certain memories Florida held, the quicker we got out of there the better.

"Are you sure?" My smile shifted into a smirk.

"Very sure." Mom released a long breath and nodded, but her eyes looked far away. A loud honk snapped her out of whatever stupor she'd been in and she went back to the wheel.

"Alright, alright that's good," she muttered. My eyes narrowed at her, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn't know what was up with her, but I've never really known. My mom was an artist for God's sake. And an eccentric one at that. Forks wouldn't know what hit em' that was for sure.

"Serena, your suppose to eat the potatoes." I looked up from my plate. My mom was staring at me, an eyebrow raised. "Not play with them."

"Yeah, I know, sorry. I'm just not that hungry," I said, putting the spoon down. By the time we'd finished unpacking all of our stuff—living in an apartment hadn't caused us to collect a lot of bobbles and doodads, so it had taken less time than expected—night had already fallen upon us. Liam had finished eating a while back, the time change having got to him. He was already asleep in his new room. So the actual sit down dinner was occupied by only me and Mom. "I've been having a problem."

"Your writing?" she guessed. Though, it really wasn't that much of a guess. Despite us having two very different forms of creative expression, we'd always been able to tell when the other was having issues. I even happened to have been the one to suggest that my mom needed a change of scenery for her paintings. I nodded my head. "Serena, sweetie, it's going to be alright. A novel is a big thing to tackle."

"But it shouldn't be, Mom!" I'd said that a little louder than I'd intended, and paused, taking a slow breath. I got a little uptight when it came to my writing. "It's just, I've completed short story after short story! Writing something longer isn't the problem." Mom blinked her honey eyes at me, folding her hands on top of the table.

"So what is the problem?" she asked softly. That was the thing about my mom. She had her looney moments, but she rarely ever got truly mad. At me or Liam. I don't even think she'd ever gotten mad at Dad either. Even after everything that happened.

"Ideas," I confessed, running a hand through my wavy black hair. There was a soft thump which probably meant my beret had fallen to the floor. "I'm all out of ideas. It's like I'm at the bottom of a well digging for water and all I keep finding is more dirt. It's- it's-"

"Frustrating to no end?" Mom offered. I sighed, and smiled sadly. Here I was obsessing over my writer's block, while my mom was having the same problem. Only worse. Since the incident, Mom's painting had become less of a hobby and more of a necessity. Selling her paintings was the only way we'd be able to stay afloat now that we were a one income family.

"Exactly." She stretched out her hand and patted mine gently.

"It'll get better, Sweetheart. Everything will work out in end." She pointed at my half eaten dinner and I shook my head. She shrugged, grabbing my plate and her empty one.

"Who knows?" she said as she dumped the food into the trash and started washing the dishes. "Maybe you'll come across a fabulous idea here. Forks has a lot of history you know." I pursed my lips, shrugging.

"Maybe."

"You might even come across an idea at school tomorrow," she went on. At that I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Say what now?" I asked. She looked back at me, a nervous smile on her face.

"Did I forget to mention? Your starting at Fork High School tomorrow." I frowned.

"But Liam doesn't have to start school until next week!" She shrugged her shoulders and turned around to face me, leaning back against the counter.

"That was the therapist's idea. He needs to adjust, Serena," she said softly, as if he could hear us. Though I doubted it. Especially since he was fast asleep upstairs. And that he slept like a rock.

"And what about me?"

"She thinks that you're doing just fine." I crossed my arms over my chest, wrinkling my nose.

"It's official! Therapists are quacks!"

"Alright, alright, if you want to keep complaining you can do it upstairs, cause it's time for bed." A sigh escaped my lips. I stood up from the table, stretching my arms up into the air. I wasn't tired in the least, but there was no point in fighting with her over this. Besides, just because it was time for bed didn't mean actually going to sleep was required. I was looking forward to reading my The Phantom of the Opera book, Mom's "I'm sorry for moving us across the country" present, any way.

"Fine," I said, starting for the stairs. "Goodnight, Mom!"

"Serena wait!" I stopped and looked down at Mom from the top step. My brow arched. She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a trail of suds behind. "Everything will get better, okay? We'll get through this."

A small sad smile formed on my face. I knew she wasn't talking about our creative blocks, not anymore at least. She was talking about Dad.

"I know, Mom," I said, just loud enough for her to hear. "I know." Then I turned and went to my room, suddenly a lot less eager to read and feeling more tired than I had in a long time

So what did ya'll think? Review and let me know.