"How does that look, James?" Mom called from the roof, looking down to me. I gave her a thumbs up.
"Looks good enough to me," I yelled back, loud enough so she could hear. She smiled back, and then went back to work. Okay, so apparently my opinion didn't matter anyways.
Honestly, I was /not/ getting up on that roof cause it was /not/ my idea to celebrate Christmas, nor hanging up thousands of lights, in the first place. I didn't really want to celebrate Christmas this year. After all, it's already the 19th. By the time we get all this crap up, we'll be tearing it all back down. Plus, it's raining and freezing here in cruddy Forks.
I guess I can just start from the beginning.
I was born in 1994. Hah, but I was a baby back then. I lived deep in the busy streets of London growing up. The snowy streets and the busy tour buses. All the tourists from all over.
We stayed in a top floor apartment, directly above a busy street down below. The top floor was the penthouse, which my family could afford, since we rented out the 37 floors of apartments below us.
Christmas was my favorite time of the year. All the lights, the presents, the trees, the jackets, the snow! As a young boy, yes, I did get caught up in it more than a stripper does in drugs. I loved eating all the cookies and treats that the neighbors brought over, and baking crisps at my mammy's.
As I grew up, reality set in. When I was 7, my sister was kidnapped and/or disappeared. We're not really sure where she's disappeared to, but the point was after funding thousands of dollars to search for her, my younger sister was not found, nor coming back.
She disappeared on Christmas day. They called the search off two years later, on Christmas day once again.
Okay, coincidences happen. Christmas isn't necessarily bad. I could take that. I was young, and Christmas was still the bomb diggity.
When I was 13, on Christmas day, I may mention, they found my sister dead. No idea how she died, we just know that she's dead, and that she wasn't going to be coming back.
A few good Christmas's were nestled into there, until the year I was fifteen, and my best guy friend got drunk, and drove that way like an idiot. He ended up missing a stoplight, killing himself, a family of four, and a guy on a motorcycle.
I wasn't ready for the next Christmas. In fact, I was terrified for it, and I had a reason to. My dad was diagnosed with colon cancer the January after my friend died; he lasted about a year. He died on Christmas day.
Now, I'm sure you're seeing a trend here. A trend to why I personally believe that Christmas, and basically every thing that goes with it, should be shoved down the toilet. Including God and Jesus; whatever. He isn't exactly my best friend right now. He'd really have to work hard to be my savior or whatever like the Bible says he should be.
Mom made plans almost right away for us to move to America. She bought a plot of land, out in the middle of nowhere- Bum fuck Egypt. Not literally. Forks, Washington is what it is better know as. On the brightside, it's in driving distance of Seattle, and I've always wanted to see the Space Needle, or whatever the hell that thing is.
Mom had contractors and interior decorators all at work, building a house and decorating it. It's not like we didn't have the money. Meanwhile, we became American citizens and all that good shit.
Everyone worked through the year, putting furniture in and creating bedrooms and bathrooms. Sometimes we got to skype, and see how it looked. And it looked pretty good.
The house was finished a month ago. We moved in last week. We'd been getting "settled in", moving in personal belongings that couldn't be replaced.
It was a four story house. The top floor was my own. It had a bathroom, a large bedroom, and my "workspace office music creating book writing low lit" room. So basically I'd spend all my time there, writing on my computer and messing with my guitar on Garageband and all that.
The third floor was the living room and living space. It was basically a giant room dedicated to furniture, Foosball, and a grand piano.
The second floor was the kitchen and dining room. It also had a separate room dedicated to my mom's photography business.
The first floor, which was actually underground, was my mom's room. Her room was calm and peaceful, lit by candles and strung with Christmas lights. I only ventured down there once while carrying down boxes for her, and it was really pretty, actually. Anyways, it was all her bedroom and bathroom in the way she wanted it.
I did kinda like it here, even though it was different. There were no nosy cars on the street; in fact, almost none at all. There were no street lights pouring through my window; only moonlight. There were no neighbors; except for a driveway across the street that lead back into the woods. I'd seen a couple cars come and go, but the windows were always tinted darkly, so I could never see who's in them. Mostly a black BMW comes and goes.
Mom's friend, Mia, who was the whole first idea of us coming here in the first place, says that our neighbors a doctor at the local hospital, and has a ton of foster kids. And I figured my mom would be jumping on that, since I've been pretty anti-social since I left London, but whatever. She hasn't made any fast moves, and neither have I.
Mia and my mom knew each other from some kind of business. I don't know what kind, and I never cared enough to have mother enlighten me, so there's that. But they knew each other, and Mia has lived here in Forks since she was a little girl. So when Mother was searching for a place in America to move to, she jumped the idea. I was friends with Mia's daughter, Sam, and her son, Aaron. So at least I'd know two people around here.
I guess I really didn't care about moving, and leaving my past behind. It was a good thing. I just guess I wish that we didn't have to move /so/ far. Or maybe that things here could be a little more familiar to home. Cause, let's admit it, Americans don't even drive on the right side of the road, metaphorically. Technically, they do, and that's what makes it wrong.
Mom began to ease off the roof, leaning over the edge, and holding onto the ladder for dear life. I should help, but I stay put. She slowly makes her way down the ladder, and walks over to stand by me, to admire her work, I figure.
The edge of the roof and windows are lined with Christmas lights. Even though they're multi-colored, it doesn't look tacky like I thought it might. Except for the lights coming out from the windows, that's really all the lighting we're putting off. I don't think she's gonna do the plastic Santa's or robot reindeer, so that's good. The inside was already decorated to the point of "almost-tacky" on the Christmas scale. It was a little too much for me, but Mom liked it, and I guess that's what mattered.
We both heard the sound of gravel crunching and puddles splashing behind us. We turned around to see the neighbor's BMW idling at the edge of their driveway, checking for traffic, I figure. Hah! That's a joke!
"You never see them," Mom said slowly, like it was a pity not to meet them. I'm sure they were nothing too special. "Seems like they're hiding something, living in the woods like that."
Skeptical. But I just nodded in agreement. It wasn't a big deal anyways. Their secrets were their secrets, and if they kept to themselves, we'd keep to our's. Cause seriously, I could care less about who they are.
But as if what Mom said had triggered them, the car didn't turn either way; it pulled straight ahead, into our driveway. Our driveway was a good 4 meters from the house, along with the garage. That aspect of the house sucked, especially on cold days, but it's what Mi Madre had wanted, so whatever.
Mom looked to me, and raised her eyebrows. "The lights aren't too bright, are they?" I looked up to meet eyes with her dark blue eyes, in which my genes neglected to include. I wish! I love blue eyes. Instead I'm stuck with violet eyes. It's something rare and weird, but when certain genes combine (my parent's) they create a kid (me) with violet eyes, pale skin, straight smile, dark-uncut hair, and who is overly tall. Yeah, they should've adopted.
"Yeah, they're really bright." I looked back at the house, then back to Mom. She licked her lips, looking a bit nervous. "I think Mars could probably see them." I nodded to myself, and shoved my hands in my pockets. The black BMW, now free of motion, sitting perfectly still in the driveway, like it contained no life. Maybe it was haunted and didn't!
...kidding.
"But I doubt that's their concerns," I assure her.
"I look like a wreck."
"Something tells me they won't care."
Three car doors opened perfectly in sync. Had they planned their entrance or... what? Sure coincidence? Probably not. But whatever.
The man who emerged from the driver's seat looked almost inhuman. It wasn't exactly daylight outside -only overcast- but I could tell from here. He was every bit as tall as I, and I was every bit of 6'1. Plus he was skinny, pale, and blonde, and by that car he was driving, I figured the family had no money troubles. Even though he was wearing a dress shirt and dress pants, I couldn't judge if he was the father of the family. He seemed about 20 years too young.
The woman who came out of the passenger side door was similar. Much shorter, but pale, and holy looking. Her hair was brown and wavy, with a reddish tint to it. She strolled around to meet the well-dressed man. She was wearing a dress that flowed across her, and fell to her knees. Well, I didn't expect our "keep to themselves" neighbors to look /this/ good. They were kind of good looking, in the most heterosexual way that can be said.
But our back seat, behind the driver, neighbor's entranced began with a mind splitting hit. The metallic, metal sound of her head hitting the door frame. Both of the other two peered in at her, almost laughing.
The neighbor in the backseat didn't find it so funny. As she gathered herself, and pulled herself out of the car, this time missing hitting her forehead on the frame, and arose out of the car. I now could perfectly see that she was a girl.
She had wavy, platinum and dirty blonde mixed hair that grazed her shoulders perfectly. She was short, like the girl; much shorter than the man. She had a medium sized tin in her hands. But she was still cringing in pain. Her complection was a bit darker than the other two; she wasn't as pale and wasn't as thin. And I don't mean that in a bad way.
The way she dressed almost surprised me. She wore black and white checkered pants, and a band T-shirt, along with Nike Airs. Definitely didn't fit in with the other two. Not exactly, anyways. She was beautiful too.
I looked to Mom, who was smiling a little. I figured cause the girl hit her head on the door. Parents found that shit funny, even though to the kid it's happening to, it does not. I looked back.
"Are you okay?" the man asked, as the younger girl kicked the door shut with her sneakers. The girl looked up at him, smiling. He pressed his hand to her head.
"Am I bleeding?" I could barely ask hear her ask him. The brown haired young woman stuck to the male's side. The man shook his head, grinning. Then the blonde looked to us, still meters away. "Is he lying? Am I bleeding?"
I slowly shook my head, and I found myself smiling a little.
"I hate your car," the young girl huffed pretendingly, and began to walk towards us. The other two hooked hands, and they began to follow her towards us.
As the girl got closer, the more she began to look unreal. She looked fake. Like she was a doll instead of a human. Maybe she was. Her bright blue green eyes were blazing through me too well.
She stopped she she got about half a meter away from us. She smiled slightly, showing no teeth. She brushed her hair with her fingers. Even though I knew Mom was smiling back, I wasn't. I was too... I don't know. Not smiley?
"Hello," Mom smiled to them, as the other two stopped behind the younger girl.
"Hello," the man smiled, and offered his hand to my mom. The shook hands cooly, and then mother shook hands with the brown-red haired woman. They were all smiling. Did neighbors always do this? "I'm Carlisle Cullen."
That name seemed extremely familiar. I wasn't sure where from, but I knew I had heard it before.
"And I'm Esme," the petite, brown haired woman grinned.
Mom looked kindly to the other young girl, who was staring down at her shoes or mine or the sidewalk or something. "And who are you?"
The girl didn't even acknowledge that Mom had spoken. Mom's face kinda seemed iffy, as if wondering if she should've spoke at all. Carlisle elbowed the girl gently, and she jerked to attention.
"Oh, sorry. I'm out of it," the girl groaned. Just then did she speak loud enough for me to realize she wasn't American either; she was Australian. And of course the man wasn't; he was slightly British. But the woman sounded about as American as they come. "I'm Tails." She extended her hand to Mom, and they shook hands.
"Like the video game fox thing?" I asked, as she held her hand out to me. I never really played video games, but I'd messed around enough as a kind with a Nintendo to realize that someone was named Tails. But the girl looked confused, and then laughed.
"No. Just Tails because it's my name." She pulled her hand away from mine, and I shoved my hands back into my pockets. I just made this twenty times more awkward. "Say, eh, you're British?"
I nodded. "So what? You're Australian."
She laughed, with a shrug. "So what?" she asked back, still grinning. I shrugged again. "It sounds good!"
I realized then that the adults had started their own conversations, and that we could talk. "Your father is European too," I reminded her.
"Oh, really?" she asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. I couldn't help but chuckle at the face she made. "Yes, sir, I also have a brother who's European. But they usually talk with an American accent, so people won't bring it up. So I don't get to hear it often, and I like it!"
Her words sounded weird. Almost every single one. But I liked it, which was even more strange. It was kind of metallic and sweet.
"Your parents aren't Australian, unless your mom lost her accent."
"They're not my real parents," she said, hesitating slightly. Her tone was a bit cooler and more sad like. She looked away from me. I remember then, after I had blew it, what Mia had said ; that they adopted many children. Crap. I guess I kinda blew that one up.
"So, will you be attending Forks High?" Esme smiled towards me, as if knowing I was in need of saving. I looked up to her a little more.
"When school gets back in session, yes," I nodded. They were out for a two week Christmas/ New Years break. Which I didn't really care. I didn't want to go back to school, so I'd milk the time I had off.
"That's where our children go. Tails could probably show you around, if you need it." Everyone kinda looked towards her, as if asking. I knew she probably didn't want to. I don't blame her. But she smiled anyways.
"Of course." Then Tails handed the Christmas tin that she had in her hands out to Mom. Mom glanced at it for a moment, and then took it. "Umm... White-chocolate chip brownies, and strawberry strudel cookies. To welcome you to the neighborhood."
Mom peeked into the tin, and then grinned back to them. "Well, that's unnecessary, but thank you! That's truly nice of you all."
They all nodded, in sync once again.
"You didn't have to," I said mostly to Tails, hoping to get on better terms with her. Her eyes flickered to me.
"It's nothing."
"We better be heading off," Carlisle said to Tails, laying his hand on her shoulder. She looked up to him, and even though he still looked kind, he didn't seem like he'd change his mind. We accidentally met eyes. Damn. Bright gold eyes? And I thought I was weird? "Finish up here."
"Yes, father," she said cooly. It seemed to dismiss him, because he began saying goodbyes to Mom with his wife or whatever.
Tails waved at me. "See you when school starts, I guess."
"Wait!" I said quickly, not thinking. She did. She stared at me, full attention. I was going to invite her over... She had to be as lonely as I, except the fact that she had a ton of brother's and sister's annoying her. She probably wanted out as much as I wanted her in. "Are you busy tomorrow?"
She thought for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, Jazz Band's going to meet for a few hours."
"Would you like to come over after that?" I asked. Ew, my pride was dying. I never invited people over back at home. "And we could hang out and talk and stuff. I have a huge floor as a room. And you could even spend the night, if you want. Like a sleepover, or something? What do girls call it? Slumber party?"
She laughed at me a little, then nodded. "I'm not sure if Dad will go for me sleeping over, nor your mom, but I can definitely hang out. Can I bring my cello?" I nodded quickly. "Awesome! See you then, A-... Uhh, I don't believe I caught your name."
"James," I said quickly. A little too quickly.
"James," she repeated. It barely sounded like my name when she said it with that accent. But I smiled. She was nice. "Tomorrow, James." I nodded in agreement.
"Are you ready, Tails, dear?" Carlisle asked her, looking to her. I figured he was her Dad, even though she was so young. She was adopted, afterall. She nodded to him. And they began to walk off, to the car.
"Well, they seem like nice people," Mom cooed, looking to me, looking overly delighted. I nodded. "And they like my Christmas decorating! So I adore them!"
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i'm going to keep track of all fandoms incoporated into the story here. i'll add on as they do :
Twilight fandom.
anyways, a bunch of people want tagged, so I hope you all enjoy this. I'll take constructive critism and all that. Thanks for reading! :D let me know what you think.