My Name is Josephine Isabella Dwyer.
Some people call me Josie…but I prefer Joey…even if that makes me sound like I'm from Dawson's Creek. I'm 17 years old, and I was born in Jacksonville, Florida. My birthday is the 13th of July…normally a Friday. Don't say anything…I've heard all the 'jinx' jokes before. Every single one, trust me. I was so unlucky in middle school, they used to call me that. I could trip over door jambs, and hit my funny bone on door knobs as I left rooms. But since my dad, Phil Dwyer, is a major league baseball player for the Florida state team, we don't always stay in Orlando. We travel a lot; mainly north to my mother, Renée's hometown/city of Phoenix, Arizona. We travel between the both of them a lot. Or we used to. Used to because I don't travel with them anymore. I live with my mom's ex-husband Charlie Swan, in Forks, Washington.
Strange things happen here…and it's not just the terrible weather, either. There are -God-Damnit. I'm gonna have to be cliché- dark forces at work here…things that shouldn't even exist live among normal people, living day after day alongside the creatures of the night, blissfully unaware as they go about their daily business. What are these dark forces? Vampires. Werewolves. Do you believe me? No…I wouldn't believe myself either, apart from I've seen it all. Experienced it all. Not all of it's been as bad as it sounds, though. It's fun, in a dark, dangerous kind of way. It's thrilling; it makes me feel like I'm living on edge, rather than safely living out my days, dodging around danger and hiding in the shadows. Again with the cheesy clichés. Must be because I'm probably too insane by now to care how I sound. After all…I run with vampires…and werewolves.
In the words of my sister, 'I had never given much thought to how I would die.' That's quoted from her journal, which I found under the floorboards in my room with some pictures and a CD. But in the last six months, I've gotten very close to dying myself, and not just once, so maybe I should learn to think about it more. Both sides of the fight combined can try and protect me from their worlds all they want…but even then, it's too late. I've got a foot in the light…and one in the shadow. The wolves have been good to me, accepting me as one of them. But the Cullens have also helped me in other ways my Quileute friends have not; they've told me the truth. Of how and why my half-sister, Bella Swan, met her grisly death at the hands of a vengeful vampiress…of how I smell exactly as she did. And why that makes me a danger to myself in ways my unusual lack of general grace could never deign to match.