A/N: First, please review! It's cool if you just want to read, but reviews are awesome.

Second, this is a mild, mild AU. The only major detail which changed from Twilight canon is that Paul never imprinted (although Rachel and Rebecca still exist).

Third, this takes place in 2010; consequently there are a few years of events not in the books, which will be revealed as the story progresses.

Lastly, this story starts slow, but it picks up quickly after chapter two. So stick around for a few chapters at least!

Love, Lyo-Lyok


Prologue

He was staring again. Mollie could feel his eyes on the back of her neck from the library table two behind. It was blisteringly uncomfortable; she wished that he would turn away, and maybe if she ducked her head and ignored him he would. Focusing on the math problems on the table in front of her, surrounded by the sharp scratching of pencils and the low murmuring of voices, she almost forgot. But only for a minute, and then she peaked over her shoulder and he was still staring. He noticed, of course he did, and a ghost of a smile drifted over his lips as he nodded acknowledgment. Mollie ripped her head away, breaking the eye contact almost before it happened.

"I'm going," she muttered, kicking back her chair and tossing the pencil and calc worksheet into her book bag. The others at her table—Jess, Lindy, Jake, and Brett, who were almost friends but not quitestared. She hated when they stared.

"Bye," said Brett. "Maybe catch you later?"

"Maybe."

The other four didn't speak until she was almost out of earshot. "Is she okay?" Harsh and loud. Lindy.

"It's James," whispered Jess in a hush.

"He's such an ass," said Brett. "He's got to know he's freaking her out."

"Mollie's freaking herself out," Jess murmured. Then Mollie really was out of hearing range, and she hurried along the dimly lit hallway.

"Hey, Mary Mollie!" shouted a passing sophomore. Mollie raised a hand in acknowledgment. The underclassmen had taken to calling her that, but she didn't really mind. She sort of liked it. Nicknames were a form of love. Her full name was Mary Guenever Ember, but she was Mollie to most. How her mom had named her, she wasn't entirely sure, but she had a distinct feeling she'd gotten off lucky. Her Aunt Anna was very fond of reminding Mollie that Helen Ember, up to the very last days of her pregnancy, had been determined to name her daughter after some Shakespearean heroine (Gertrude was Aunt Anna's favorite example).

The school day wasn't quite finished, but Mollie knew no one would mind if she left early. Forks High School was small and trusting, and seniors like Mollie were given a great deal of freedom. There was just one more thing she needed to do first.

"If it isn't Miss Mollie Ember!" The secretary smiled warmly as Mollie tiptoed through the administration office door.

"Hi, Mrs. Cope."

"Whatcha need?"

"Schedule change. My study period—it's just not working."

Mrs. Cope tilted backwards in her chair. "That's not one I hear often. Is there something else I should know about?"

"No, no," Mollie said hastily. At the secretary's look of disbelief, she added, "Really, Mrs. Cope. But I need it changed. Please?"

The older woman sighed. "Well, alright. But all we've got left that period is photography. Or I can just knock seventh period off your schedule altogether."

"Photography's fine. I can do photos."

Mrs. Cope made the necessary changes, then printed Mollie's new schedule. The printer jammed and Mrs. Cope smacked it several times before it whirred to life and spit out the paper. She rolled her eyes as she handed it to Mollie.

"Thanks, Mrs. Cope."

"Anything for you, Mary Mollie. Now get on with you," she said, and shooed the young woman out the door. Mollie immediately left the building, heading straight for her truck. Once she was in the cab seat, and the heat was turned on and she was waiting for the windows to defrost enough to see, Mollie realized she didn't know where to go. Her volunteer shift at the hospital wasn't for another hour and there weren't really any other places she went. It occurred to her that most other people her age went places and did things, but she wasn't exactly sure where they went or what they did. So she went home.


No one understood how hard Helen Ember tried.

She tried to be a good mother. She tried to be there when needed, and tactfully absent when not. She tried so hard it hurt. It just wasn't enough. She was never what Mollie needed, and she just couldn't figure out why.

Mollie was brilliant, more brilliant than anyone knew. But she struggled making human connections. Mollie needed friends, and Helen couldn't help her there.

The careworn forty-five-year-old braced herself against the kitchen sink and watched through the window as her daughter trudged up the snowy front walk, alone, head bent.

The yellow front door creaked open and her beautiful daughter walked in, and Helen leaned against the kitchen island and said nonchalantly, "I named you for a woman who was loved by the two greatest men of her time. She loved them both, maybe not equally, but she made a royal mess of it and spent a lot of her life horribly miserable. I thought she deserved a second chance, and maybe everything would be simpler and maybe stuff would work out. Mary Guenever Ember, I think you need a boyfriend."

There. Let her think on that. Satisfied, Helen Ember poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down to read the Times.