God the ceiling was white. I stared at the vast expanse above me, my eyes tracing around the recessed lighting and the lines where the ceiling met the walls. It was too early to be up on a Sunday morning. I wanted to sleep, I needed the sleep, but it evaded me. So here I was, awake at 5:30 a.m., staring at the perfectly pristine white ceiling. Perfect. Everything in the house fell under this description. Except for me. Maybe that's why I couldn't sleep. I secretly loathed myself so much that my subconscious wouldn't even allow me an escape. What was wrong with me?
"ha." I laughed out loud.
I knew exactly what was wrong with me. I wanted something I could never have. Or maybe I could have it, if I wasn't me. I had become a teenage cliché. My insides ached and my head was a mess, as I lay wishing that I could wake up one morning as something different.
My father Carlisle was the hero surgeon at our local hospital, which meant he was admired and revered in our community. My mother Esme, thanks to my father, had never worked a day in her life. She filled her time with PTA meetings, dinner parties and fawning over my sister, Rosalie. Ah Rosalie. She and my brother Emmett were fraternal twins. When you looked at the three of us, maybe even looked at our lives, it was clear that I was the odd man out. Emmett was the star quarterback on the football team. Girls went goo goo eyed for him, and every guy in school wanted to be him. He was more brawn than brains, but no one seemed to notice, or care. I guess it helped that he was charismatic. What a bastard.
And don't even get me started on Rosalie. As her brother it sometimes bothered me that every guy in school went rabid when she was around; but she was a total bitch sometimes, so I didn't always feel that bad when guys stared at her chest instead of her face. She and Emmett had been granted an all access pass to the palace of good looks and popularity. I hated to admit it to myself, but sometimes I was completely jealous. Not because I wanted to be the center of attention, and I preferred to be considered intelligent over vapid. But, being popular would give me better access to the one person I wanted to get close to.
Rosalie, of course, was on the cheerleading squad. As punishment for having a house party while mom and dad were on vacation she had gotten her car taken away for 3 months. The screaming and crying that followed that decision had nearly broken every window in the house. I was happy though, now, that my parents had endured hurricane Rosalie and stuck to their guns. Without a car Rosalie needed a ride everywhere. And since most of the other kids in our town couldn't afford their own car, mom had to pick her up from cheerleading practice. It was by fluke that I learned of the perk I got out of Rosalie's situation. I had gotten picked up from my best friend Jasper's house, the first day, and we stopped to get Rosalie on the way home.
Now I would take the ride everyday to pick her up. I would say that it was to get out of the house for a bit. That was a lie. I knew that when we pulled up to the curb Rosalie's best friend would be waiting with her. I would sit in the backseat, always with the explanation that Rosalie would be pissed if she couldn't sit in front. That was a lie, well, maybe not the pissed off part. But the motive was a lie. They would both get in the car, and for a few fleeting moments we would be in a close enough proximity for me to feel her warmth, to smell her scent. Her soft mahogany curls would hypnotize me, and the sporadic flashes of her chocolate colored eyes would set my insides on fire. She would sit just inches from me, never knowing that she was the girl that I had loved from afar since we were kids. She had no clue that while we sat so close I fantasized about taking her in my arms and making her mine. She was the girl whose face haunted me day after day. Hers was the face that kept me from sleeping in on a Sunday morning.
"Bella.." I whispered aloud.