Author's Note: Hi everybody! First of all, please please please please revwi. I see no reason why anybody DOESNT reveiw, even if it is just to tell them that they thought the story was...eh. All right. i mean COME ON PEPLE its still an opinion!!!! I like opinions, EVERYBODY LIKES OPINIONS.

Anyway. Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I want to explain this fanfic a little, because it is going to take some explanation. It has been about a hundred and thirty years since Breaking Dawn. Imprints don't age either, because they are so connected to their wolf that they stop aging when they are the same as age as their wolf was when he imprinted or, if they are older than him, they stop aging when he first phases, regardless of whther or not he has seen her. I know this isn't really the case, but it fit with my story. Plus, we don't know for a fact that the imprints don't age. It neer says. It just says in one of the legends that the guy started aging so he could die with her. He was an old guy with a lot of control, chances are he didn't wait long enough to find out.

So you never know. It could be accurate.

Embry has imprinted on a girl named Cathryn. Quil with Claire, Jake with Nessie, yada yada yada. After traveling around the world they all reconnected and moved back to La Push with the Cullens so that they could raise their kids together and have them be a part of it. It starts when they are all teenagers.

Milly's Journal

A stall in the ladies room, sitting on the toilet without the lid on account of this stupid school having none. Makes no sense, right? They have enough money to construct a stream, complete with a water fall and a bridge and little stones surrounding it, but not enough to buy some lids for the toilets? Pathetic, I know. My feet are on the toilet, too, to make sure nobody notices me in here. They might think I'm crying, or I need a pad or something. And then I'd have to tell them what I'm really doing in here. And that would be bad. Really, really bad. Because if anybody ever finds out that I have you, diary, my life will be over. Like seriously. Ta-ta, the end, over. It'll be all over the school. And if its all over the school, eventually HE will find out. And if HE finds out, then my life will be over. Again, I mean. Actually, now that I think about it, my life is over already., It ended about three seconds ago, when I had a very disturbing epiphany concerning HIM. So all this worrying is completely pointless.

Okay. You ready, diary? Ready to discover the event that caused my unfortunate demise? I know you are. Your pages are just quivering with the anticipation. And why shouldn't they? I'm about to confess to you the biggest, juiciest secret I've ever had in my whole life. This, diary, is quite possibly the most shocking piece of gossip ever recorded in diary history.

First, I'll have to tell you who HE is:

Brian Call. Son of Embry and Cathryn Call. Twin brother to Brialle Call. Owner to Paco the german shepard. Hero and role model to struggling pranksters-and soccer players-everywhere. Now, I'm sure you are wondering to yourself, why is she being so dramatic about this? I know who Brian is. He has graced my pages with his presence since the very first entry. He is Milly's best friend. Has been since they were itty bitty babies fighing over lego's in their pampers. He is nothing new. Nothing special.

YOU ARE WRONG!!!!!!!!

Yes, you know Brian. Yes, I know Brian. Yes, I have written about Brian.

But not like this.

No, he didn't phase. He only just turned sixteen, if you'll remember. He has a couple of months left of humanity and singleness.

Singleness. . . .

Oh, crap. I just realized something very bad. Like, very very very very bad. What is going to happened when Brian does phase? I mean, what if he imprints? What if he find his soul mate while looking into the eyes of a Jamaican supermodel or something and they fall in love and move to Tahiti and have a dozen kids? Cause, you know, that sounds like something he would do. Aside from the whole falling in love thing, I mean. Studies show that people related to Cathryn Call are incapable of emotion. Which doesn't help my case either, now that I think about it. I mean, how the heck am I supposed to get him to fall in love with me if he doesn't have a heart?

I am so destined for heartbreak. Not that I didn't know that already. I've had it told to me often enough by Bree.

Truly though, how did this happen? I mean really, this was not supposed to happen to me. If you had told me an hour ago that this is where I would be now, and for this reason, I would have laughed in you face. I would have-

Oh. Wait. You don't know what happened yet, do you diary? Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself. Not that you aren't probably used to it by now.

I was standing in the middle of the gym, looking around me with the panicked wide eyes of a deer caught in the headlights. I was surrounded. By whom, you ask? By teenagers. Teenagers that didn't know what werewolves were and didn't carry a journal in their purse. Teenagers who crowded around each other and grinded on their friends to the beat to the music while sending their friends-with-benifits appreciative glances as they did the same. The reward was a good one, I guess, for most. I mean, if I was a teacher, trying to think of a way to reward my team, letting them have a dance during school would be near the top of my list. Its just that I couldn't dance. At least, not without Bree with me to show me how its done-literally. And she was in class, along with my brother, my sister, and the Blacks. The only other person I could really talk to was Brian, and he had apparantly mastered the disappearing act he had been obsessed with since he was seven.

You know, for a guy who is so popular and athletic, Brian really is kind of a geek. Not that that changes anything.

Without Brian there to lean against the wall and make fun of our peers with me, it was pretty lonely. Because I wasn't kidding when I said people were grouping up. They were, in all tightly packed little circles, dancing together and laughing and shouting things to each other above the music. I thought Brian might be in one of them. So I made my way through them, sort of dancing, too, so I didn't look like some sort of friendless loser. I did a pretty good job, too, despite Brialle's absence. This is because Bree is probably the only human being on the planet who, when "dancing" actually DANCES, and manages to do so without looking like a complete dork. The rest of earth's population, though, pretty much just stands there and wiggles around while showing off various-ahem-impressive body parts. And that I could do.

Just not very gracefully. It wasn't long before I, in all my coordinated glory, bumped into some one. Luckily, said some one was totally hot-literally-so I knew that whoever it was, we were at least family friends, if not like siblings.

I looked up into the blue eyes of Tristan Clearwater. "Oh, hey." He grinned. "What's up?"

I blushed. I have a tendancy to do that a lot, I have noticed. It isn't a very good habit, I don't think. In fact, I' pretty sure its a sign of a low self esteem. I'll have to tell the doctors that if I'm ever carted away for beleiving in werewolves and vampires and soulmates and immortality.

Only I'm kind of doubtful that that will ever happen on account of the only people who know I beleive in that not only beleive in it too, but are actually one of the above.

This particular time, I was blushing because of the question. I hate it when people ask me 'whats up'. There isn't really anything to say to that. Except, like "the ceiling'. But those cheeky sort of responses stopped being cool in about the seventh grade, which is really too bad.

"Not much." I shrugged. See? How is he suppoed to answer that? I fully expected a lull in the conversation.

But there wasn't. Because Tristan, like both of his parents, has amazing people skills and probably has never experienced an akward moment in his life. "Cool." He nodded his head. Whether it was at me, or just in time to the music I do not know. "Are you going to the party next week?"

"What party?" I perked up. I'm not the party girl type, but I like an excuse to get away from my parent's house on weekend evenings. Just like the Calls and the Blacks and all the other children of the wolves that I know. This is on account of our parents are still technically teenagers. So they have...hormonal needs. Plus they are soulmates, you know, so they love each other that much more and...it usually isn't pretty.

Don't think that because of that I get away with anything, though. My dad has an enhanced sense of smell. And hearing, and sight. He can smell alchohal in my blood, see even the faintest bruise on my skin, hear if I ever try to sneak out. Not that I would ever do that, diary. You know me better than that. I'm just saying. Because of their extra advantages as far as parenting goes, they can pretty much afford to be slack everywhere else.

"Alyssa's." He explained. "Next Saturday. You know, end of the school year bash, and junk. Its supposed to be really cool though."

"Okay." I smiled coyly. "I'll see if I can drop by." I don't like Tristan that way. He doesn't like me. But we are, like I mentioned before, practically family. So we tend to practice our flirting skills on each other, because there really isn't much I can do to him that won't be forgiven one way or the other. And vice versa.

"Cool." He smirked.

A new song came on.

"Hey, lets dance." He said, grinnning.

I opened my mouth, with what I like to think was a witty and dignified responce on the tip of my tongue. But I didn't speak. Because that was when it happened.

That was when Brian Call took a knife and plunged it into my chest.

He was there. He was a ways off, hadn't seen me. He was dancing-dancing! HIM!-with some girl.

He leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Go on, Brian, plunge the knife a little deeper, why don't you.

She giggled, and turned around, revealing a full head of glorious BLONDE hair. Twist it, Call. See if you speared an artery of something.

Then she stretched up on her dainty little tippy toes and kissed him, full on the mouth. Oh wait. It wasn't an artery you got.

IT WAS MY HEART!

I gulped.

"Milly?" Tristan leaned down a little. "You okay?"

"Uh...yeah." I managed to choke out. "I...excuse me." I pushed past him, and made my way-

Well, here.

So now you know. You know something that has been being formed for probably years, without my uncommonly small brain picking up on it. You know that I, Milly Ateara, am in love with Brian Call.

No, I mean it. Because when I saw him kiss her, that was no unerving shun of a crush. A crush can't elict that roaring sound in your ears. It can't make your eyes go all unfocused and ignore whoever you are talking to. You can't tell your crush every thought that ever went through your head. You can't hang out at the beach until two o clock in the morning almost every Friday night with a crush. You do that with some one you LOVE.

I guess I shouldn 't be suprised. I mean come on, the man is gorgeous. He's like 6'5. And he has these wide, muscled shoulders, and washboard abs, and black hair that sweeps just right across his forhead and hangs into his emerald green eyes. And he had this really pale skin that he inherited from his mother, but he didn't inherit her freckles, so he almost looks like he has vampire skin. And he has these really big hands that look like they could just-

Oh, great, see what I'm doing here? I'm rambling! About the looks of a guy I've known very personally since I was BORN!

I just can't see how I let it go on for so long. I mean, I'm usually so organized. How my falling madly in love with my best friend could have escpaed my notice is ttally beyond me, but it some how has.

Something must be done.

But what? Right now I am hiding in a bathroom stall with every intention of doing so for the remander of the dance for fear of seeing HIM with HER again, with nothing but you, diary, a little black book and a leaky pen that has caused my hands to cramp from writing so much. How is that helping anything? It isn't, I know. But seriously, what CHOICE do I have? Its not like I could compete wih Miss Blonde out there. I swear, it is so like me not to realize I'm in love with some one until they go off the market. What is wrong with me?

I wish Christina Black was here. Knowing her, she'd have some words of motherly wisdom for me much better than anything my actual mother could offer. But she isn't. She is with my psychotic sister, Vanessa.

I'm alone in the universe.