A/N: Hello. So this story has been in the works since Breaking Dawn came out. I like to finish a story before I publish any of it, and here it is. Some things will reflect Twilight; that's on purpose. It's a parallel story, I guess. This is the first part of the prologue. There aren't a lot of chapters, but they're all kind of long. I don't usually like writing POV switches, but I have so much fun in Jasper's head that I couldn't stay out. POV changes are marked with an * throughout the story.
I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Prologue, Part I
Somewhere over the Rocky Mountains
The closer the plane got to the ground, the more miserable I was. I wanted to stay in the air forever. Even better, I wanted to go back and stay in the past forever. Normally, I would have been excited to go to a new place. I would have been excited to see my aunt, and meet all the new people in my new school, despite the fact that I was leaving all my old friends. We would keep in touch, if they still wanted to. I just wasn't the excitable fourteen-year-old I had been when I first entered ninth grade.
I'd had a lot of issues with excitement lately.
It started less than a month ago, when I had a vision of Mom's death. It wasn't abnormal, me having visions. I had seen things before they happened since I was born. Usually it was just small things, like knowing that my little sister Cynthia would fall off the swings before she got to the park, or that my teacher was going to be absent the day before she was. They weren't very clear, usually; I just saw a snippet of action. Often they were only in dreams, and I couldn't remember what happened.
Dad thought that there was something wrong with me. He thought we should see a doctor, or send me to some sort of institution. Mom wouldn't let him. She said that the visions were harmless, a gift. She was very into New Age spiritualism. It was a sore subject for them, one that might have destroyed their marriage if I hadn't stopped telling anyone but my mom about my visions.
But this vision was different. It was the clearest one I'd ever had, and it knocked me out. One second, I was having dinner with my family, and the next, my vision was filled with the screeching of metal on metal as someone ran a stop-light straight into my mother's car. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, my parents standing over me. I immediately told them everything. Mom was obviously worried, but she put on a brave face for us. She suggested that maybe she should lay off driving for a little while. Dad told her she was being silly. He convinced them that it was just in my imagination. Nothing to worry about.
The next day, Mom was dead, killed almost instantly on her way home from the grocery store.
A family friend picked me and Cynthia up from school and drove us to the hospital. Dad was already there, sitting in the ICU's waiting room with his head in his hands.
It wasn't until the funeral a few days later that I spoke to him again. After the service, after the burial, I confronted him.
"I told you. I saw it happen."
"You saw no such thing."
"Yes, I did!"
"A coincidence."
"What's wrong with you? It wasn't a coincidence."
"It's not possible."
"What's wrong with you? Why couldn't you just listen to me?"
"Be quiet, Alice."
"This is all your fault!"
"Shut up!"
"If you had just listened to me, she would still be alive! You killed her!"
"Mary Alice—"
"You killed her! I hate you! I wish you were dead and not her!"
I ran outside to the porch of the funeral home. Through the door, I could see Aunt Karen go up to Dad and speak to him quietly. A few minutes later, she came outside to speak to me. She told me that Mom had called her the night of the vision. She'd asked Karen to look out me if something happened, though Karen didn't know why. Mom didn't trust Dad not to shut me away in a mental hospital. It was then that I saw how deep of a wedge my visions had driven between them. Aunt Karen realized that I wouldn't be able to live in the same house as my dad. She asked if I would be happier living with her and her family in Washington state. And despite the fact that my whole life was in Pennsylvania, I agreed. I couldn't stay at home with the father I still considered a murderer.
And so I would not be continuing my first year of high school with the friends I'd known since kindergarden. I was going to Forks High, the population of which was less than 400.
The only thing that kept me from going crazy (in a more literal sense) was the recurring dream that began after the move to Forks was announced. It was of a black-eyed angel. He was tall, blond, and deathly pale, with dark circles around his eyes, as though he hadn't had enough sleep. Even with onyx eyes that drew me and terrified me at the same time, he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen (or dreamed). Though I told myself that he was just a dream, I knew that I could never imagine something so perfect.
The plane touched down in Seattle. Aunt Karen had gone back after the funeral to get things ready for me. I had been packing for the past few days and saying goodbye to my friends. I hadn't spoken to Dad since the funeral.
Aunt Karen and her son Mike, who was my age, were waiting for us outside of security. "Oh, Alice," she said as she embraced me. "I'm happy you came to stay with us, whatever the circumstances."
"Thank you," I said. There were no words to describe how grateful I was to never have to live in the same house with my dad again.
"This is what family is for. And don't you worry about fitting in at your new school. Mike is going to help you. He'll introduce you to all his friends!"
Mike looked about as happy and I felt. We hadn't really hung out in a while. It would be weird to live in his house. And I doubted he really wanted to insert his cousin into his group of friends.
I stared out the window as the sodden forest whizzed past. Four years until college. Then I could go back to Philly, or on to New York, or D.C. Somewhere on the east coast. Somewhere that had sun. Four years. Not a lot of time, in the grand scheme of things.
But it was long enough.
We pulled up to the house, a normal four bedroom split-level. Modest, clean, and warm. Homey. I hoped it would feel like home to me, too.
Aunt Karen lead me up the stairs to the small guest bedroom that now belonged to me, Mike trailing behind with my suitcases. It was plain, white walls, wood floor. A double bed sat against the same wall as the door, across from a window that looked out into the woods that bordered this side of the house.
"You can do anything you want with it. We'll paint it and get you some posters. Feel free to make it your own. Just tell me what you want to do. You're not a guest here. This is your home."
"Thanks," I said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice. "I'll try to think of something to do with it."
She hugged me lightly and walked out of the room. I stared out the window into the woods. They were deep and dark in the damp twilight. My imagination began to run, trying to find shapes and stories in the overlapping green branches.
I remembered that Mike was still in the room. "Um, thanks," I said. Awkward.
"No problem," he muttered.
I wanted to be open. I wanted to be friends, like we were when we were little kids. I wanted to cast off this depressed girl who was living inside of me. I loved life. I enjoyed myself. I was a happy person. Where had I gone?
"You don't have to hang out with me at school or anything. I'll find my own friends." In a school smaller than my class at home. "Really."
"It's no big deal. I don't mind."
We stood there for another few seconds. "So, um, I'll just let you get settled. Mom'll call you down for dinner soon." He left me to my thoughts.
Today was Saturday. The day after tomorrow, I had to enter high school with a miniscule group of kids who had been together since they were born. I would stand out like a sore thumb: Mike Newton's city cousin whose mom was dead. Not to mention that she had visions of the future too, but they didn't know that. Nor would they ever. Only two other living people knew, and they didn't care anymore. I would never mention another vision again. I would forget about them, and maybe, if I pretended they didn't exist, they would stop.
Sunday passed quickly, considering all I did was unpack and organize my things. One moment I was unzipping my suitcase, and the next minute, I was sliding into bed, my backpack packed for my first day of school. At least it was only a month into the year.
The next day, I purposefully set my alarm so that I would have exactly enough time to get dressed and eat before leaving. I would rather be rushed than have extra time on my hands. I dug up one of my favorite sweaters, pink cashmere, with a white cami underneath.
Karen drove Mike and I up to the office and dropped us off. "Your enrollment should be all set," she said. "Mike will be able to show you where you need to go. Have a good day!"
Mike lead me silently up the sidewalk to the building. "Hello, Mike," said the red-haired secretary.
"Hi, Mrs. Cope. This is my cousin, Mary Alice Brandon."
"Oh, yes! I have your schedule right here." She handed it to me, as well as a map and a slip to be signed by all my teachers. Mike looked at my schedule as we walked toward the main buildings. "You're in all my classes. That's a nice coincidence."
"Yeah," I said. Sure. Coincidence.
It wasn't long before Mike was hailed by a group of boys. I followed awkwardly, wishing that I could disappear. If only Mike were a girl.
"Hey guys. This is my cousin, Alice Brandon. She just moved in with us. Alice, this is Connor, Lee, and Tyler."
I gave them a small wave. "Nice to meet you," I mumbled.
"So, why'd you come to Forks?" asked the one I thought was Tyler.
Mike interrupted. "Uh, no time to chat, we should get to Algebra early so that you can talk to Mrs. Clark."
"Thanks," I said as we walked away.
"No problem," he said. It didn't matter that all of Forks probably knew my life story (minus the paranormal ability), the gesture was still considerate. Maybe there was hope yet.
Mike continued to introduce me to what I began to think was the entire freshman class. Not that that was saying much, but it was still confusing. They all looked the same after they started asking the same nosy questions.
My classes weren't too bad. None of my teachers that morning made a big deal over my arrival. They didn't even mind when I said I preferred to be called Alice, not Mary. The material wasn't even that difficult.
All in all, the day was pretty good, so far, for a first day. I was already luckier than so many other new kids in the world: I knew I had a place to sit for lunch.
The first thing I noticed about the lunchroom was how every kid in school was there. Back at my old school, there were three lunch periods, each with almost five hundred kids in each one. This whole small-town thing would take some getting used to.
The second thing I noticed was the table of angels.
For a moment, my irrational side thought that was what they were. They were beautiful, certainly, but they weren't angels. Angels didn't sit in your school cafeteria. Besides, they didn't have wings.
There were five of them, three boys and two girls. They were all deathly pale, and had dark circles under their eyes. The girls both had figures that a model would die for. One was on the shorter side, with a shining curtain of dark hair, while the other was taller and more statuesque, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders like waves of liquid gold. One of the boys, the one with curly black hair, was absolutely enormous. Another was smaller, at least compared to the brute he was sitting next to, with gleaming bronze hair.
But it was the blonde boy that caught my attention.
It was my dark angel. The beautiful face that I had seen only hours before in a dream, surrounded by a mane of flaxen hair. His expression was moody and repressed, like this was the last place in the world he wanted to be. Something about him almost reminded me of a lion. He seemed wound tight, coiled to spring. His arms were well-toned, but his muscles were more sinewy than bulky.
And three seconds after I walked in, scanned the room, and saw him, he leapt up from his seat. His eyes bored into mine. They were so dark they were almost black, as they had been in my vision of him. An animalistic snarl rose from his throat. The cafeteria was suddenly silent, staring.
The two other boys had jumped up also, and were holding his arms. Were they restraining him? From what? From me? I wanted to look behind me to check if there was something dangerous coming, but I was locked in his gaze.
He struggled as the smaller one whispered in his ear hurriedly. His expression changed a little, from fierce and feral to simply agonized, like he was being tortured. Though all my instincts were on full danger-mode, something about his pain struck my heart. I didn't want him to be in pain. I wanted to other boys to stop whatever they were doing that was hurting him.
After what seemed like an eternity, his brother shoved him, and the eye contact was broken. I fell back into Mike, who immediately pulled me away from the door towards the food line, hands resting protectively on my shoulders. Something about being under five feet made people think I was going to break if something bad happened. I turned and watched the three boys go, the blonde one staring back at me with his expression full of torture and regret. The girls followed quickly.
And then they were gone, and the spell was broken. People turned back to each other, conversations starting up in excited whispers. I tried to walk normally through the lunch line and ignore the eyes staring at me from all directions, when all I wanted was to hide in my raincoat and never come out.
Mike was still being very considerate. Instead of bringing me over to his table of curious friends, he shot them a look of warning and walked over to an empty table instead. He let me sit and pick at the crusts of my sandwich for a minute before asking, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." My shakey voice betrayed my real feelings. "Just—just a little weirded out. Is that sort of thing normal for Forks?" I said, trying to lighten the situation.
"No." I could tell he wasn't really sure what to say next. I decided to ask the more answerable question out of the ones that I was thinking. "Who are they?"
He relaxed a little bit at this easy question. "The shorter girl is Bella Swan." He said her name a little wistfully, and I got the idea that he had a crush on her. Nobody could blame him. "The big one and the one with the reddish brown hair are Emmett and Edward Cullen. The blondes are Rosalie and Jasper Hale." Mike hesitated while I let that sink in. Jasper Hale. That was his name. It was a strange one, but somehow, it fit. Putting a name to the face suddenly made him so much more real to my mind.
"Emmett and the Hales—they're twins—are sophomores, and Edward and Bella are freshmen." I recalled their faces. None of them really looked 14 or 15. The sophomores looked like they could be in college.
Mike continued. "They're all adopted by Dr. Cullen and his wife."
"Wow," I said. "All five of them? That's amazing."
"Yeah. I think the Hales are related to the doctor, though. His sister's kids, I think my mom said. And Bella is Mrs. Cullen's goddaughter or something."
"And they still adopted the other two?"
"Oh, I think they came first, but I don't know. They only just moved here this summer. There're all these rumors that they're, like, together, Emmett and Rosalie, and Edward and Bella."
So they were newcomers, like me, and weird ones at that, surrounded by scandal. "Weird," I said.
"Yeah," agreed Mike, eyeing their now-empty table. "Something about them…it's off. There's…something else going on there." He looked sheepish. "I bet you think I sound all paranoid or something."
I thought about Jasper Hale's eyes, and the tortured look on his face as he walked away. "No," I said. "You're right."
A/N: So, what do you think? No flames, please. If what you have to say isn't constructive/nice, go comment on a YouTube video. Also, since this story is FINISHED, please refrain from making suggestions. It probably won't change anything, and I'll feel sad. Don't make me sad. REVIEW! :D
Lena
P.S. Updates will probably come once a week, depending on my mood/crazy teenage schedule.
