Chapter One: Hey Camilla

How could she do this to me, to my dad? I knew she'd already given up completely on him, no matter what she said to convince me otherwise. And it had only been a year! There was still hope, there was always hope, but she wouldn't call off the wedding, even when I told her to. I'll never be able to forgive her for this, never. Her and my 'new father'? They're dead to me.

I even told her about my dreams, or nightmares, or whatever they were.. They were all the same, almost exactly. I always saw my father, the real one, not the fake jerk my mom was so attached to. First, I can hear him scream. It's a horrible sound. You're dad is supposed to be the strong one, the guy who doesn't cry or, well, let out blood-curdling screeches. So the scream makes me think it's a nightmare. But then I see him running, so fast, quicker than a lightning bolt strikes the ground. It seems to me like he's chasing something, but I can never see what, not that it matters at all. What matters is that he's alive. You can't chase something if you're dead. They can't be nightmares, because they're trying to tell me something: that my dad is still out there. I'm sure of it.

She'd just stared at me with those big eyes that I could read like an open book, but now they were filled with some emotion that I couldn't place. It could have been hate for bringing up her painful past, or maybe shame for acting like I was crazy. 'Stop', she'd said. I was just tired, the city fumes were going to my head, I didn't know what I was talking about. Yes, I was tired, but only because of the very real dreams that I kept having! She'd told me to go back to bed and get well rested for the wedding that was going to happen in the morning, whether I liked it or not, though not in so many words. So I did. I'd always been an obedient kid, something that I was adding to my list of annoying qualities at the moment.

As I laid there in bed, I reached for my locket. It had a picture of my real dad in it. The one who had been there for every one of my birthdays, who'd helped me up when I fell off my bike the first time I'd ridden it, kissing my scuffed and bleeding knee to make the pain go away. He was the one that was there for me, always, even if he couldn't be now. And I wasn't about to give up on him like my mom already had. I wasn't going to find some replacement that we both knew wasn't even half as good. My father was out there, somewhere, and I would find him if it took me the rest of my life.

But there wasn't anything I could do to change my mom's mind. Some delusional part of her still thought I would grow to love her dear Benjamin, that after a while I'd treat him like he was my real father, not some substitute. If she could make up her mind, though, so could I. She wanted to be with him, I didn't. Even if it meant hurting my mother, there was no way I was going to betray my dad. So she'd have to choose.

Oh, but she couldn't pick between us! The fact that she'd even have to give a thought to whether she'd rather have her daughter, the one who'd been through everything with her, or her fiance of six months; that she'd consider replacing my dad and sending away her only child, it was insulting. I'd been there when he'd gone missing, I'd wiped her tears and held her while she cried, just as she'd done to me. And she was thinking of shoving me off onto some other person? I couldn't believe it.

So I made the decision for her. I walked up to the phone and dialed the number that belonged to my aunt, waiting impatiently for her to pick up. I heard her soft 'Hello?' after three long rings. To be honest, I missed my aunt a lot. Before, I'd go up every summer to visit her. She was on my dad's side of the family, his sister, so after his disappearance our family didn't talk to her nearly as much, like my mom was trying to burn all bridges that led to him.

I tried to conjure up the right words in my head. I didn't want to sound pushy or anything, seeing as I was pretty much inviting myself to live with her. After a moment, I settled on, "Hey, aunt Camilla. What's going on in small town Forks?" And that - those ten, seemingly insignificant words - started it all.

Now I'm sitting in the uncomfortable yet somehow soothing seat of an airplane, flipping a tiny packet of peanuts over in my hand and staring out the window at the sea of clouds beneath me. I'd been happy to skip my mom's mistake of a wedding, which aunt Camilla wasn't invited to, of course. They'd never really gotten along very well. But I loved her, she was my favorite member of my screwed up family.

Her and I look quite a bit alike as well. She's about five three, which is almost two full inches taller than me, but I've always been the shortest in my family. In fact, I'm usually the shortest one in the entire city. Smiling bitterly at the thought, I saw the faint reflection of my short, deep black hair that contrasted with my pale face, like the darkest night of a snowy winter. I think I got that from her, as well, if it even works that way. We've got different hair cuts, though: hers is long and beautiful, touching just about her waist, like Rapunzel or something. The last time I'd seen her she was so thin and small that she looked like my sister, not my aunt. It would be easy to mistake her for a teenager, if you didn't get a good look at her. In fact, the only way you could really tell that she wasn't was through her eyes.

They're a deep muddy brown, sometimes they even look black when the light hits them right. You can see plainly that they're full of wisdom and compassion. When you get a good view of them, you don't see some ignorant teenager, filled with arrogance, like they're invincible; you see a friend, someone who would never mean to hurt you, no matter who you are or how well you know her. Someone who's been through enough to make her as wise as an old woman. A couple people have said that I was fortunate enough to get my eyes from her, but I don't think they know the half of what they're saying.

Hers are full of experience and knowledge, only acquired over a few short years, but still more so than some of the oldest women. Mine, on the other hand, are full of deprivation and doubt, two things that wouldn't leave them no matter how hard I tried. They probably don't read into as much as I do, they just mean that she's got large, almond-shaped brown eyes, and I do too. Like I said, they don't know the half of it.

I watched the clouds ripple under me, like frothy white waves - we were too high up to actually see the ground that was so far below - when I a flight attendant's scratchy voice over the speaker, "Folks, we're nearing Forks, local time two fifteen in the afternoon, so the captain is requesting that you make sure your seatbelts are fastened and your seat is leaned all the way forward. Now is the time to turn all electronic devices off. I would like to thank you for flying on American Airlines, and have a nice day."

Why do all flight attendants always sound so happy? It's a little bit creepy, if you ask me, although I guess that's what I used to sound like before.. well, just before. I felt myself jerk forward slightly as the plane tilted down to prepare for landing. I haven't ridden on too many planes before, so this feeling was new to me, and a little bit unnerving. The important thing was, though, that Alice Marie Waters was going home. Not that I've ever lived in Forks before, but as soon as I arrived, I knew I'd be surrounded by people I loved. That's what home is anyways, right?

There was a large bump as we hit the ground, and my ears popped painfully as another flight attendant came on the speaker, "We have arrived in Forks, Washington. Please wait until the plane has come to a complete stop and the seatbelt sign is turned off to get up and get your things. We thank you, once again, for flying with American Airlines." No, I thought happily, Thank you.

And thank the Lord and anyone else who would listen. I'm finally here! I get to see my aunt Camilla! I really did miss her like no other, I realized as I yanked my carry on bag out of the compartment, wondering where the rest of my many bags were. Maybe I wasn't as perky and cheerful as before, but nothing could stop my love of shopping and all things fashion. I guess I'd have to wait and get them with aunt Camilla.

As soon as I stepped off the airplane, and walked through the little hallway to the main airport that would make even a normal person feel slightly claustrophobic, with it's flourescent lights and gray walls, and then there she was, waiting for me. "Ca- I mean, aunt Camilla!" I nearly shouted, I was so excited. Oops.. a slip of the tongue. I guess it's just easier to call her Camilla, like she was my friend, not my aunt.

"Alice!!" She yelled back as I ran over to wrap her up in a hug. Her arms folded around me as well, as she said, "Oh, you're just going to love it here," then she pulled me off of her and held me at length, and looked me up and down and into my eyes for a moment, "Wow. You've grown up so fast." There was an emotion in her voice, something I couldn't place, yet again. My people-reading skills were a bit off today, it seemed.

"Not enough.." I grumbled, a little bit frustrated that I was sill only five one. She laughed, and involuntarily, I laughed too. I haven't done that in a long time, since dad disappeared, actually.. The thought cut my laughter of in an instant, but Camilla didn't notice.

She looked at me, her face glowing with happiness, and in a joking tone she said, "So, how many bags did you pack this time?"

Hey!! Thank you soooo much for reading this!! I hope you liked it!!! I am also writing another story called Immortal Fire, but I'm kind of at writers block for that one, but I did think of this! It would be really nice of anyone who actually liked this story to go and read my other one...and maybe reveiw and give me ideas? You don't have to, but it would be really helpful! Reveiw this story and tell me the things you liked or hated about it! Thanks!!!