Lizzie sighed as she grabbed the keys to her revamped vintage Harley Davidson motorcycle. They hated her riding it, which was precisely why she did it. That and that she liked it.
"Be careful." Esme said quietly.
"I will, grandmamma." Lizzie promised. She was only going to the convenience store for a thing of detergent and a new hair-care product for Alice-how much trouble could she get into?
Unfortunately for Lizzie, in her life, tons.
She ran to the garage, just in case Esme changed her mind about letting her go. She quickly settled her black helmet on her head, sat down and started the motorcycle.
She had painted it herself. Jet black all over except the splatters of bright crimson on the rear. Edward had asked what it was, and she'd rolled her eyes and said it was blood, of course. He'd pursed his lips and asked if she thought that was a bit too obvious. She told him everyone would think it was flames.
Lizzie roared down the highway, gorgeous red-brown hair streaming out behind her. Past the hospital, where Esme's husband Carlisle worked. Past the college, then the high school, where her parents and all her adopted aunts and uncles mingled with the humans. Even her twin sister was there-but not Lizzie. Not anymore.
Past all the exits toward big, exciting cities, cities they never went to because it was too obvious or too sunny or too big.
Finally she reached the convenience store. The clerk smirked at her as he rang up her two items.
"Cutting school, gorgeous?" he asked.
She glared at him, her cold emerald eyes boring into his soul, and turned to leave. His thoughts were admiring her low-cut shirt and wondering if she dated college guys. Lizzie sighed. If he didn't already know who she was and her story in this small town he obviously didn't know that she didn't date. Ever.
She took the normal way home, keeping the engine low and driving through town instead of looping around for an extra two miles on the belt way like she had on her way. Esme would be wondering.
And then she was home-that cute white house with the light blue shutters. Filled with cuter rooms with perfect king sized beds and perfect made-for-each other couples to not-quite sleep in them.
She banged on the door and dropped the bag on the table, not bothering to announce the fact that she was home. Esme was working on something in her home office and had heard the door bang and Lizzie walk in.
Poor Lizzie. She thought sadly. She should have someone to talk to.
Lizzie glowered in Esme's general direction-the last thing she needed was anyone feeling sorry for her. She headed up the stairs toward her room. Because of course she wasn't really homeschooled, and perhaps that was one advantage of her awful situation-she didn't have to sit through mind-numbing mundane high-school courses.
But she still envied her sister.
Her room-Lizzie smiled as she entered her hideaway. It was draped in black-the carpet was black, the walls, the furniture, the only-for-one bed.
She lay down on her bed, looking up at the ceiling. Her skin looked white against the dark comforter, her hair like spun bronze. The perfect ringlets crowded her face as she closed her too-green eyes.
Elizabeth? She called. I'm ready.
Disclaimer: I'm not Stephenie Meyer and I don't own any of her Twilight characters. Lizzie is mine for fanfiction purposes, even though she's based off of the Twilight books.
A/N: Ah yes, I'm attempting Twilight fanfiction. Thanks to thecolorsoftwilight for beta-reading this (go check out her story, it's good). In case you didn't get it, Lizzie is Nessie and Jake's daughter. Reviews would be loved, and more will be explained next chapter. -rowena