I've spent a long time on fanfiction, under a different name. This is my way of giving something back. Enjoy.
Credit goes to IHateJacob1 for the amazing beta job. Check her out, she's amazing.

Oh and just to make it clear, this fanfiction is SET IN ENGLAND.

All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

You'd think that my mum would give me some warning when she was going to invite friends over and make me cook for them. You'd also think that when I needed to cook a three course meal to impress Dad's new boss, they'd say a few days before. 'Oh Bella, would you mind cooking for us Thursday night?' Instead of these perfectly good requests, which give me plenty of time to prepare, I had three hours and whatever mum had in the kitchen. My mother is so lucky that I make a mean beef casserole. Looking around the kitchen, I decided that everything's probably ready. I've left my mum explicit instructions, so that she can be the one bringing the food to the dining room table. If I was in the kitchen, slaving away over the stove, it might look just a little suspicious. My mother was an awful cook, and when it came to impressing people, or even cooking edible meals, it all came down to me.

But I didn't mind, it let me give something back for my family, and if it meant that Dad impressed his boss, then that's a definite bonus. There had been a few redundancies at Dad's company recently, and I know that my parents are a bit worried about how we'll manage if it happens to him.

I could hear Mum upstairs, asking Dad if she looked alright; Dad informing her that no, her tie-died hippie skirt was not appropriate wear. Rosalie complained that she had plans tonight, and didn't know why I couldn't just stay around to look after the little brat. I was cooking for three tonight— The Boss, The Boss' Wife and The Boss' Son. Lucky me. Rose and I had been laughing about him the other day; she had a bet that he was under 5 ft 6 and overweight. I just thought he was going to be ridiculously awkward, have big glasses and acne. Yeah, we were being stereotypical, but who cared? The family had come over from America to 'revitalize' the company with some new blood. Dad wasn't impressed that they were bringing in a foreigner to do an Englishman's job at all.

The boy was going to be starting at our school after the summer holidays were over though, so maybe it wouldn't be a bad thing if he was nice. After all, we'd be the only people he knew here, and it must be daunting to start a new school with no knowledge of what it was going to be like, and no friends whatsoever. Especially when coming from a different country. Although Americans speak English, they still have a completely different schooling system and all that crap. I felt kinda sorry for the boy; after all, he's being thrown into the deep end here. Hell, he's probably sitting in the car on the way here imagining us as two stereotypical English girls. What even is a stereotypical English girl? How would he imagine us? Maybe he thought we were fat, chavy girls, who liked to wear their hair in side ponytails and said 'like' and 'um' between every sentence. I couldn't wait for him to see Rose; he was going to be in for a big surprise!

Well you know what they say, speak of the devil and she shall appear. Rosalie glided down the stairs in a purple wrap dress that looked amazing (as always) on her. I looked down at my smart slacks and shirt and decided that it'd be more appropriate for me to change before they got here. Rosalie is my fraternal twin, and she used to be everything that I ever wanted to be. Rosalie was tall, blonde and popular; whilst I was dumpy, mousy and possibly the shyest person you'll ever meet. As I grew up, I saw what constant attention did to her, changing her from my sister, into a stuck up Barbie. Her looks have moulded her into the person she is today, and I have to say, I'm not a fan of who she turned out to be.

"Bella, have you seen my mobile?"

Rosalie lost everything constantly, and seemed to expect me to be able to keep track of it all. At least twice a day, she would barge into my room to demand I reveal the location of her favourite top (the wash), her make up (in her school bag because that's where she will have obviously left it last), her new La Perla panties (it turned out they were in her ex-boyfriend's car). The list goes on.

"Rosalie, chances are you will have put it on the windowsill in the kitchen because that's where we best get reception in the house."

As usual, I was correct. Also as usual, I didn't receive a word of thanks.

"Oh and by the way, they'll be here in about 5 minutes. Mum said to tell you. Are you not going to change into something more suitable?" Rose scrunched her nose, obviously in disdain at my clothes.

Normally, just to spite Rose, I wouldn't have changed; but on this occasion she was right. I needed to look a little more grown up than normal, and my smart-ish outfit just wasn't cutting it today. I hurried upstairs to my room, and began digging through my wardrobe to see if there was anything remotely appropriate. Just as I was opening one of my drawers, the doorbell rang. I grabbed the nearest item of clothing, which happened to be a dress that Mum got me; dragged off the rest of my clothes, and pulled it over my head. Realizing too late which dress I had chosen, I wished then that I had stayed in my original outfit. This dress was similar to the one Rose was wearing, but thankfully quite a bit more modest. It was black, and form-fitting, but flared out below my hips to a few inches above my knees. The front was simple, but the back dropped away to leave my shoulders bear. It would have been a beautiful dress, if I wasn't so afraid of showing so much skin in public. Ah well, not enough time to change now! I thought begrudgingly.

I hurried downstairs, choosing to bypass introductions in the hallway, as seemed to be going on at the moment, choosing instead to mark my position in the dining room, waiting for the 'rents to show our guests in. I looked down, slightly adjusting the position of one of the knives. When I looked up, there was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen smiling at me. I blinked, thinking he might disappear. Tousled bed-head, the colour of Autumn leaves, piercing green eyes and uhhh, the perfect smile.

"Um... hello." I said, trying not to shake when I said it.

"Oh, I do apologize, let me introduce myself. I'm Edward Cullen, and it's a pleasure to meet you. You must be Isabella." He said with the sexiest American accent I'd ever heard.

When his strong hand encased mine to shake it, I thought my knees where going to give out. No Bella, bad Bella. He's clearly too pretty to be interested in you.

"That's me. It's a pleasure to meet you too."

He smiled a brilliant smile .

Two equally pretty people joined us in the room.

"Ah, you must be Isabella. It's lovely to meet you." says the lovely looking woman, with penny-coloured hair.

It was so obvious to me how these people created such a beautiful boy. Edward had his mother's facial features and his father's jaw line, his mother's eyes and his father's hair style, his mother's hair colour and his father's cheekbones. However, his father has piercing blue eyes, and his mother, soft orbs of honey brown. Where his phenomenal jade green eyes had come from still remained unknown to me.

"These are my parents, Esme and Carlisle."

My brain snapped back into gear, and my social skills kicked in.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cullen, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Bella."

"Well Bella, if we abbreviate your name, then please, call us Esme and Carlisle. You'll make us feel old!" Esme laughed, a melodic sound that filled the room.

I could already see that Esme and her family were lovely. Surprisingly enough, Edward was nothing like I'd expected. Rosalie and I had joked about how he would be fat and spotty, yet he was a beautiful specimen of a man. Even so, he seemed polite and well-mannered. Nothing like your typical teenager. Then again, I wasn't exactly one to judge. I was about as far from normal as you can get.

I noticed that Edward's attention had been drawn elsewhere for a minute. He was staring at my book, which I had managed to leave out. Under the Greenwood Tree, by Hardy.

"That's a brilliant book, is it yours?"

"Yeah, I love Hardy, he's such a descriptive writer, I always manage to lose myself in his work for hours."

"I completely agree, and I love the way we see his characters, he makes them seem so human."

"Your right, I hadn't pegged you for a reader."

"There are a lot of things that you don't know about me, Bella."

I looked down and blushed, both at his implication and the fact that I'd just let it slip that I'd been judging him. Damn, he was good.

"So, have you read any of his other work?"

I realized then and there that Edward Cullen could easily be the death of me. Handsome, polite, and a common interest in one of the things in the world that means the most to me— books. I was about to dive into a discussion about Hardy's other, perhaps more famous work, when we were interrupted by Rosalie's piercing voice.

Both of us jumped, we were so wrapped up in conversation that we had gotten distracted, and forgotten where we were. In fact, we were standing a bit too close to each other for propriety's sake, yet I couldn't find it in me to care.

"Bella, Mum needs your hand plating up the food. She says to come at once," Rosalie was using her most threatening voice with me, but all that changed when she addressed Edward.

"Edward, you just make yourself comfortable at the table. Is there anything that I can get you? Anything you need. I'll stay here and keep you company whilst Bella and Mum bring in the food. I think my dad's just showing your parents something to do with work. I wasn't really listening, it's all so dull, don't you agree?"

"Actually, I'm planning to follow in my father's footsteps. I find his work in the stock market fascinating. The way the market fluctuates depending on a myriad of minute factors. It's all so amazing."

"Oh, well when you put it like that..." Rosalie was flustered. She wasn't used to boys disagreeing with her. Normally they were all tripping over their feet in an attempt to take her word as gospel. Maybe if she went out with Edward (as clearly was her intention) he would manage to bring her down a few notches.

It was a shame really, that Rosalie wanted Edward. But I should have seen it coming, of course. He would be perfect for her to have on her arm as she goes back to school. First dibs at the new meat. Another popularity game for her, and chances were, Edward wouldn't know he was being played until it was too late. He didn't even have anyone to warn him what Rosalie was like.

And it was so shit; Rosalie always got all the decent boys. She was so much prettier than I, that there was just no competition. Boys fell at her feet for a chance to be seen with her. Queen Bee, Rosalie Swan was the best of the best. And that was the way it would always be. Her non-identical shy bookworm of a twin sister never even got a look in.

"Bella, what are you still doing in here. Did you not hear me tell you? Mum needs a hand in the kitchen."

Feeling more and more like CinderBella every minute, I headed into the kitchen to help out. As usual, Rosalie didn't even have to lift a finger.

Heading into the kitchen, I was met with my mother's frantic face. She had her instructions crumpled in one hand, and a saucepan in the other.

"Bella, help," she hissed at me.

"What have you done Mum?"

"I thought the sauce tasted too bland, so I put some of the spice thingies on the shelf over there into it, and now it tastes like shit."

I sighed. It was going to be a very long night; especially if I had to watch Rosalie and Edward flirt across the table the whole time.

Mum's new and improved sauce was pretty much unsalvageable, but it was easy enough to make. I'd just have to throw it together again in time to come out with the mail meal. It wasn't hard. Shoving some oil in a frying pan, I contemplated how unfair it was that I was always the one who had to help out around the house. Mum and Dad, although I knew they loved us equally, always had a tendency to give in to whatever Rose wanted. It was easier, and that was you avoided confrontation. It had always been that way in the family. Rose was always believed over me, and never punished, merely because if you didn't agree with whatever she said, she threw a tantrum and would sulk for days.

Inside a shoe store, a mother and her two daughters are looking for shoes. Rosalie picks up a pair of red leather shoes, with gold buckles. They're lovely, but quite gaudy. The little girl adores them.

"Mummy, I want these ones. They're so pretty. You said that I could have pretty shoes this time because we had to buy boring school shoes last time we were here."

Her mother looks at the price on them and sighs.

"Honey, you know we have to be careful with what we buy these days. Money doesn't grow on trees, and because Daddy gets to stay home at the moment, we have to only buy things we really need. What about these shoes, these are pretty. Look, they have buckles too."

Her other, quieter, daughter is holding out a pair of sensible brown shoes with dainty buckles. She's chosen them because she likes them and because they're practical. She can see them lasting forever. But Rosalie's eyes begin to water and her top lip starts to quiver. She knows that this is the easiest way to get what she wants. The shoes that Bella has chosen are nice, but she wants the red ones. A tear runs down her cheek.

"Oh honey, don't cry, please don't cry."

Renee isn't much of a mother. She doesn't really understand children that much and although she loves her two babies with all her heart, she would rather be free and unattached. She knows though, that she can't take care of two children by herself, and somewhere within her, regrets the little mousy girl that was born as a surprise to them. Without her, she would have considered taking the outgoing pretty Rosalie and trying to make it on her own. Bella however, made this a much harder feat to achieve. Much harder.

"Rosie, Rosie, we'll work it out. If we don't get the shoes this time, I promise we'll get them next time."

Rosalie, seeing the end is in sight, begins to cry louder and harder. Renee detests a scene; it might make people gossip about her, and she likes to be the person spreading the gossip, not the person who people are gossiping about.

"Rosie, we can get the shoes. They are very pretty. Mummy will sort it for you."

Renee has an idea. She looks back at the sensible brown shoes that Bella is holding, and then at the sale rack. Picking up Rosalie's red shoes, she looks at the shoes which have been rejected by the other children Bella and Rosalie's age.

"Bella, honey, you like these brown ones, don't you."

Bella hates those brown ones. They're boy's shoes, but she doesn't tell her mother that. When she tries them on, they're too big, but her mum tells her she'll grow into them. When Rosalie tries on her shoes, they pinch her feet; she pretends not to notice though, because she's gotten what she wants. She's pleased that Smella, as she likes to call her sister, has gotten ugly shoes. It makes her feel like she's one upped her. Rosalie is jealous of Bella, of the way she carries herself, of how clever she it. This jealousy will continue for years, and will eat at Rosalie, helping to form her into the person she is today.

Two weeks later, the red shoes are thrown into the bin, and Rosalie has blisters. She complains so much, she gets to miss school. Bella never says a word about her shoes, not even when people make fun of her for them. This trait will continue for the rest of Bella's life. She will always much prefer to suffer in silence.

I jolted out of my memories with a jump. It always pained me to think about growing up, none of it had been much fun. I had been the awkward, gangly child, whilst Rosalie went from cute, to pretty, to stunning. She was looking into doing some modelling work at the moment, but Dad was digging in his heels. Personally, I kinda hope that she doesn't get anything, or Dad won't let her. She doesn't need her ego inflating any more than it already is.

I added the water to the sauce that the recipe required, before improvising a little, and adding some white wine. Bringing it to the boil, I added in the thyme, salt and pepper, before trying it.

Perfect.

I smiled a little, it was always nice when something went right.

Plating up the food, I carried it through to the dining room, more like the waitress then the daughter. Hah, CinderBella indeed.

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"Bella, are you not joining us?"

"Oh, um, I was going to leave you two to get to know each other more... intimately."