New story yay! Everyone in this story is completely, 100% human. Set in Forks-the fancy shmancy posh side of Forks, where Paul-the bad boy from the "wrong" part of town meets Vanessa, the girl whose part of the family Paul has been taken in to. Their worlds will crash together in a way that nobody expected.

Different Worlds

Chapter 1

Paul

I sat on the dirty sidewalk, feeling absolutely terrible. That scene with my mom earlier had been brutal. I looked at my bag, sitting on the ground beside me. This was the third time she had told me to get out of her house and never come back. Three times she had kicked me out. Three times was enough. The first time was enough for me.

This time I wouldn't go back. No matter what Mr. Pruitt-my social worker-said this time, I wouldn't go back. I couldn't go back to that false "family" again. Her and her new "perfect" husband-who really wasn't perfect at all-could see what it was really like without me. What my mom had done to deserve and abusive husband like Jim-I had no idea. I knew that my dad hadn't been great to her either, but he was sure as hell better than Jim. But he had vanished. Of course, he'd try to escape this sorry little excuse for a town.

You know, if she had maybe treated me better, maybe I could find it in myself to feel some remorse for her. The woman who I had stopped considering my mom months ago, I really couldn't find it in myself to feel bad. I knew that I should, but I couldn't. I fished Mr. Pruitt's business card out of my bag, and twirled it around my fingers. He had told me to call him if I ever needed him…I figured this was one of those occasions. His home and cell numbers were on the card too, but it was pretty late. I didn't want to wake him up or disturb his family, but what could I do? I didn't even want to call him, he had a family, he had his own life, and he didn't need to worry about me.

No one else did.

I bristled at the thought. Nobody cared about me anymore, nobody cared what happened to me. I thought to Jared, maybe he could give me a place to stay.

I almost laughed at the thought. Yeah, go stay with Jared and listen to his parents constantly arguing.

I didn't seem to have any other option other than calling Mr. Pruitt. I checked my watch-it was only eleven-thirty. He could still be awake. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and deliberated for a long time. I wasn't sure.

I dialed his cell number, and not surprisingly, got his voicemail.

"Hey…Peter, it's me…Paul…could you…could you give me a call when you get this? On my cell, not the house," I paused and took a deep breath. "Things got pretty bad at home…I think I need some help…thanks…thanks again."

I ended the call and held my head in my hands. Peter was a good guy, I knew he had two kids; he was protective of his family. He really felt for the kids he worked with. Numerous times when things got bad at home he had offered to let me stay at his place for a few nights, but I had always declined. I didn't want to feel like I was taking advantage of him and his family.

A few minutes later my phone rang; I looked at the ID and saw that it was Peter.

"Hello?" I asked into the phone.

"I'm on my way, where are you?" he asked.

I told him where I was and he stayed on the phone with me. As silly as it sounds, Peter staying on the phone with me comforted me a little bit. Peter was from the rich part of Washington; big houses…fancy cars…all that jazz. I exhaled deeply; I already had the speech in my head to tell Peter that I didn't want to go back. The second time she kicked me out I had practically begged him, this time I decided I was just going to refuse.

I saw his headlights approach, and stood up, hefting my bag onto my shoulder. I went over to his car, and opened the passenger door.

"Little warm for leather," Peter noted, looking at my jacket once I was in the car.

"No way in hell was I leaving this behind," I said. I knew he could tell that I was angry.

He chuckled and started driving. I stared out the window as he drove through the streets of Washington. We were both quiet on the drive.

"Where are we going?" I asked finally.

"I'm taking you to my place."

"No, Peter, I can't let you do that," I said.

"Then where are you going to go?" he asked.

I hesitated.

"I know you don't want to go back to your place. You didn't want to go back there last time, you don't want to go back this time-I know you, Paul. If I tell you that I'm going to take you back there so you can patch things up with her, you're just going to refuse," he said.

I took a deep breath. "I don't know what to do anymore."

"We'll help you get back on your feet."

"You don't have to do that," I objected. "I've got friends in the area, I can still with them until…" I trailed off.

"Until what?" he asked.

I hesitated. He was right, what was the end of that sentence?

"Listen, this may or may not be permanent. I can't just leave you out on the streets," he said.

"Come on, Peter, I can't permanently stay at your place. What about your family?" I asked.

"My wife already knows that you're coming," he said. "Come on, I've been your social worker forever, when your mom was first having troubles. It's fine with me."

"I feel like I'm taking advantage of you," I said.

"You aren't-we're offering."

I leaned back in my seat and blew all the air out of my lungs.

"We have the extra room and the money to support another kid. Paul, it's really no trouble at all."

"I don't want to stay permanently."

He took a deep breath. "Were you planning on going back to school?"

I laughed a short laugh. "Yeah, right."

"There's a high school near me," he said. "We can get you going there, we can help you. It would be selfish of us not to, Paul."

I didn't say anything. Soon enough, the look of the houses changed from normal to fancy and rich. I almost laughed to myself. If any of my friends back home saw me here they'd laugh at me and tell me to get my sorry ass back to La Push. This place was way too fancy for any of us down in La Push. We were notoriously from the "wrong side" of town. Whenever any of us went into this part of town, we got looks. It was like people could tell that we were from La Push just from walking around their posh town.

Peter pulled up into a driveway and immediately I felt out of place. I had never been to his house before-it was bigger and fancier than I had imagined. His house was like a mansion.

"I didn't know social workers made so much money," I noted.

"We don't, my wife's a doctor."

He parked the car in the garage and we got out of his car.

"Peter, you really don't have to do this…with everything else you've done, I would've been fine in a hotel for a few days-or at a friend's place. I can't live here permanently…I'd feel too bad."

"It wouldn't be permanent," he said simply. "In a year you turn eighteen. Then you can choose what to do from there. As long as you stay out of trouble, I don't see why you can't stay here."

"Are you really willing to do this for me?" I demanded. "Why? I don't get it, Peter. I don't understand why you're so willing to take responsibility for me."

"Because right now, you legally don't have a guardian. You don't have anyone to care for you, and I've known you since you were a kid and getting into fights on the playground," he said, smile hinting at his face. "And you know what else? I was you. My mom kicked me out when I was fifteen. I didn't have anyone to help me. I had to live with friends during the school year, then when I got a job and enough money I had my own apartment and made my way through college. It was hard for me, and it was hard to not have a steady place to live."

I hadn't known that Peter had gone through what I was going through when he was kid. He had never told me that, and we had known each other for years.

"I should've taken you away from your mother years ago, I knew she wasn't suitable to raise you when I first met her," he said.

"And stick me in foster care?" I asked bitterly.

"Wouldn't that have been better than having to deal with her?" he asked.

I didn't answer him; I knew that he was right. What was I saying? Was I really more willing to stay with her than go into foster care-or stay with Peter?

"Come on, let's go meet the family," he said, leading me into the house. I felt nervous as we walked through the door going into the house.

Vanessa

I was sitting in my room on my laptop, not really doing anything important. I couldn't concentrate on doing anything.

"Ness?" my mom's voice floated over to me from my bedroom door.

I spun around in my chair to look at her. "What's up?"

"We need to talk about something," she said.

My stomach lurched. She couldn't have found out about what Jessica and I had done at her party could she? And what we had done wasn't even that bad; it had just been a bit of drinking. I hadn't gotten high or anything and Edward had brought me home before midnight.

"What is it?" I asked.

She sat down on my bed and took a deep breath. "Your father is bringing one of his kids here…to stay here for a bit."

"What?" I asked. "He's bringing someone to stay here…?"

She nodded. "I know that it's short notice, but he called your father about fifteen minutes ago-his mother kicked him out of their house. I don't know all the details, but this is one of the boys who your father has known since he was a kid. Your father couldn't help but let him stay here…you know what your father went though as a kid-he doesn't want to see this boy go through that too."

"How old is he?" I asked.

"Seventeen-he's your age," she said. "They're probably going to be here soon."

"Have you told Ryan yet?" I asked. I wasn't sure how my brother would react to letting some stranger in our house.

"Not yet, I figured I'd tell you first."

I leaned back in my chair. "Where is he going to stay?"

She laughed. "What do you mean?"

"I know he's staying here, but what room is he staying in?" I asked.

"I was debating between one of the guest rooms on this floor, the attic, or the pool house," she said.

"You'd stick him in the pool house?" I asked.

"That was really only to make you feel better about him staying here," she said. "So I guess it's either the attic or one of the guest rooms."

"That attic is fully furnished and in good condition," I said. "It's like a guest bedroom up there, you and your psychotic decorating."

"Hey, your grandfather wouldn't let me go into interior decorating like I wanted to, he made me continue his practise, I had to outlet my want for decorating somewhere," she said, laughing.

"Mom, why did you listen to Grandpa?" I asked. "I mean-you never wanted to be a doctor."

"Sometimes, honey, it's about a bit more than what you want. Sometimes you need to make changes that don't exactly please you," she said. "But don't get me wrong, I like being a doctor, but I would have rathered been a decorator."

"You decorated our entire house," I said, smiling. "I can tell you'd rather be a decorator."

She chuckled. "Well, I did a pretty good job here, didn't I?"

"You did," I agreed. "So when is he getting here?"

"Should be here soon, La Push isn't too far from here."

"He's from La Push?" I asked.

She nodded. "Now don't you start stereotyping. Your dad knows that he isn't like everyone else from there. He's known this kid since he was five years old, he just lives in the wrong area."

I took a deep breath. "Alright…let me know when he's here I guess."

She stood up and smiled at me. "Wish me luck telling your brother."

"Good luck," I said with a laugh. She left my room and went down the hall to Ryan's room.

I turned back to my laptop and tried to concentrate on whatever I had been doing. I couldn't believe that my dad was bringing one of his clients home to stay with us. Was it going to be permanent? Knowing my dad-yes. Knowing him he would let him stay here until he was in college, or even out of college, I had no idea.

Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. My dad was a pretty good judge of character; he wouldn't let someone dangerous come to live with us.

…right?

I shook my head, trying to clear it, I trusted my dad, and he wouldn't let anyone dangerous in our house. People make mistakes, and my dad understood that. No matter what the reason was that he was coming to stay with us, it couldn't be something terrible. Like my mom had said, he had been kicked out of his house. It wasn't like he was a criminal or anything.

Was he?

I had no idea. It was frustrating that I didn't know anything about this guy and he was going to be living right above my room or down the hall from me.

A while later, my mom called Ryan and me downstairs. He was here. Ryan and I walked down the stairs together.

"What do you think about all this?" he whispered to me.

I shrugged. I didn't exactly know how I felt about it.

"I don't like it," he whispered.

"Why not?" I asked.

"He's from La Push," the way he said it was like it was this disgusting place.

We didn't talk anymore as we had gotten to the bottom of the stairs. My parents were in the kitchen, we could hear their voices. We went into the kitchen.

"We don't want you to feel like an outsider here, we're going to do everything we can to make you feel welcome," I could hear my mom saying.

"Thanks," I heard a male's voice. He had a husky voice-a husky sexy voice.

We turned the corner into the kitchen, and my jaw almost dropped at seeing him. He was one of the hottest guys I had ever seen. He was wearing a leather jacket and a thin white t-shirt and jeans. He had the tanned, native skin that all the guys from La Push had and jet black hair.

"Ahh, this is our daughter Vanessa and our son Ryan," my dad said. "Guys this is Paul."

He turned and met my eyes. I felt like my jaw was about to drop right onto the ground. He was absolutely gorgeous.

"Hi," I squeaked as Ryan did a little wave.

"Hey," he said.

"Paul is going to be staying with us for a while…we don't know how long yet, but I want both of you to do everything you can to make him feel welcome here," Dad said.

I nodded, smiling. I felt flustered and weird inside. And we haven't even said three words to each other.

What was I doing? I was with Edward. Why was this guy, Paul, making me feel so weird? It reminded me of when I had first met Edward and started dating him in ninth grade.

"Paul decided to stay in the attic, Ness, why don't you show him the way?" my mom asked.

"Um…sure," I said. "Follow me."

My dad smiled encouragingly at him and he walked up to me, so I started to walk out of the kitchen. I hadn't realized how tall he was before now. My head barely reached his shoulder. We quietly walked together, and I couldn't help but be all too aware of every single time our arms brushed each other. I took him upstairs and pointed out my bedroom, Ryan's bedroom and my parents' bedroom. I'm not sure why I felt the need to point out all our bedrooms but I did.

"There's the main bathroom we use too, but don't worry there's a bathroom upstairs you can use," I said.

"You have a bathroom in your attic?" he asked, surprised.

"My mom is a decorating freak," I said. "Every inch of this house is completely furnished. You pretty much have your own little apartment up there…except for food. There's no fridge up there or anything."

He chuckled and it sent my heart racing.

"Is that how it is for everyone around here?" he asked as I led him up the stairs to the attic.

"Pretty much," I said. "You know, all the guys around here are on the water polo team and the football team. Oh and we all wear diamonds and polo shirts. No less than that for us."

"Is that sarcasm I'm sensing?" he asked.

"It sure is," I said, then decided to change topics. "So, La Push, huh?"

"Yeah, where we're all from gangs and carry guns and steal cars, cool huh?"

I smiled in spite of myself. "Is that sarcasm I'm sensing?"

"Maybe," he said. By this time we had gotten to the top of the attic stairs and were in the attic. "Or maybe I'm being completely serious, and maybe I'm part of a gang and maybe I'm running from the cops and taking refuge from your dad."

I looked up at him. "If that were the case, you wouldn't tell me, and you'd actually look guilty talking to me right now."

"And how would you know?" he asked, smile lighting in his eyes. "You met me not ten minutes ago…I could be a good actor."

"Not by the way you look at my dad-as if he's your own father…and he's known you since you were five years old," I said. "You know, it's funny that he's known you for so long and we've never met."

"Funny how things work out, huh?" he said. "Known your dad for twelve years, never had any idea this was the kind of house he lived in."

I leveled my gaze to meet his eyes. "And what kind of house is this?"

"The rich people kind," he said simply-and seriously. "Where I'm from…some houses are probably about as big as this room."

I looked away. "Well, that must suck."

"Yeah, especially when you've got an abusive stepfather and an oblivious mother," he said, slight tint of bitterness to his tone.

"Is that what happened to you?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah, but our house was bigger."