Author's Note: Hey everyone! If you're wondering why I'm posting this story again, it's because I didn't like the first version. This is the REMIX!! If you don't feel like reading this story a second time (even if this is the new and improved version) then feel free to remove me from your alerts list. If this is your first time reading it, or if you're just plain old awesome and you're reading it AGAIN, please leave me a little review! I'd love to know if I'm heading in the right direction. Also, if you have any tips whatsoever, please share them with me! I'll be posting again if I get enough reviews, so please help me out here.

Just to warn you—my first version was rated T. This one is going to be rated M eventually so I'll just start out by rating it M. There will be some language and lemons later on, but be patient! This isn't a dirty story. This is just a story of an ordinary girl who falls in love (which is something we all hope to do someday) so bear with me.

Disclaimer: I don't claim to own anything associated with the Twilight Saga. It all belongs to Stephenie Meyer. I just love her characters, that's all.

CHAPTER ONE - Yeah, yeah…

Lizzie POV

"And that's all right you see
Experience has made me rich

And now they're after me, cause everybody's

Living in a material world"

--Madonna, Material Girl

I sighed. Another day of school… when will it ever end? I mean, when you graduate, you go to college and when you graduate from college, all you do for the rest of your life is work to earn money and then spend it on material things you didn't even really need. Most of the time you can't even pay for the crap you buy, and that's where the CREDIT CARD comes in. Credit cards are just another sick way of procrastinating; 'yeah, yeah. I know it costs a thousand bucks, but I'll just pay it off tomorrow. Or the next day. Or never.'…

When did the world come to this? All people think about these days is sex, money, and more money, and some more sex. Seriously, people suck. I wish that I could get myself a time machine and transport myself back to the time where people lived off the land and were happy. Happiness is such a rare thing to come by in this day in age. Life is a rat race. Everyone wants to get to the cheese first, and they bite each other to death before they come anywhere close. I'm not aiming for the cheese. I'm aiming for the sky. I'm aiming for the sun and the moon and everything in between.

That's why I decided that I'm taking off as soon as I'm done with high school. I don't care what my parents think of me. I'm going to start a garage. Hah. I bet that surprised you? Well, I'm not exactly one of the average materialistic teenage valley girls that dominate your high school, as you may have noticed. I'm just me and that's all I'll ever be. I won't change myself for anything or anyone. Ever.

Okay, sorry about that. I know my exterior seems kind of die-hard but I'm a nice person. I think. Except for my phobia for materialism. That's kind of scary, I admit it. But think look around you; do you really need that TV and that bracelet and that make-up? Do you? Could you survive without all that stuff? I know I could. I know you probably can't. But that's life. People just don't ever get it. Some say that 'life is a lesson. You'll learn it when you're through.' I disagree. You only learn the lesson if you keep your heart and your mind open to the world. Let it in and you'll see. The next time you pass by that old rotting tree-stump on the end of your driveway, think about it. Look at all those little insects burrowing their way into the wood. Do they need iPods or cars or makeup? No, they don't. All they need is their old rotting wood, and they're not unhappy. They're probably happier than you are right now.

I swung my legs out of bed. The cold morning air hit me and I gasped. I always slept with the window open so that I can let the roaring of the cars in the street sing me to sleep, but it froze last night. I brushed the windowsill with my fingertip, and I felt the crackle of the thin glazing of ice that scraped away from the shiny white layer of paint. It melted immediately and I licked the glistening droplet of water from my finger before it fell off. It tasted crisp and cool and it reminded me of the mountains during spring time. The ice would melt and rush down the rivers into the lush green forests and the meadows full of wildflowers, waiting for the first drop of life-giving water so that they could burst into life and colour the world.

I caught sight of myself in the full-length mirror that covered the wall next to my bed. My eyes were still squeezed half-shut and my head was covered in a shaggy mess of hair. Running my fingers through my red-gold hair, I separated the messy curls that covered my head in the mane of sleep into smooth waves which I gently fluffed around my face. Not sparing my appearance another glance, I grabbed a pair of comfortable tan cargo-pants and a plain black tee-shirt. I dressed and went downstairs for breakfast.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, a familiar foul stench slammed into my olfactory glands. Oh God, dad's been drinking again. I don't know why he does it! Whenever he takes so much as a sip of beer, he chucks it out a few hours later and then passes out. He does it far too often, too… Once or twice a week I was met by this smell. It meant that I had to do everything by myself for the whole day. Of course I couldn't depend on my mum to help me. She's a schizophrenic that's been locked away in a mental facility. I get to see her once every few months. If I'm lucky, she'll remember my name. She never remembers my baby sister's name though. She was taken away from her right after she was born. My mother was the reason why my dad was a drunkard. I was mostly left to fend for myself and my sister.

Ah, there it was; the ominous dark stain of vomit on the carpet. I sighed as I sprayed some carpet cleaner onto it and scrubbed it with a towel. Not that it did much good, the whole house smelled of it now because of the many times this had happened over the last few years. Once, two years ago, I tried stealing my dad's entire alcohol collection and emptying them down the sink. It wasn't pretty. The bruises didn't fade for a month and my classmates laughed and bullied me for it. That's when something snapped inside me. I went mad and ended up giving a couple of kids bloody noses. I got suspended for that, but I don't care. It was worth it. Who laughs at someone who has been beaten? What kind of people were they anyway?

That wasn't the first time I've been bullied, either. I had to deal with their constant ragging about what I looked like. My legs were too long, I was too skinny, my hair was the wrong colour, my breasts were too small… I could go on, but I don't feel like it. I don't feel like much these days. All that keeps me from going absolutely crazy is swimming. I love to swim. It seems like the only way I can leave this world for a few hours. When I swim, my body takes over my mind and I don't have to think. Thinking is a painful thing to do, and I just happen to be one of those people that think too much.

I sighed again as I poured myself a bowl of cereal and chewed pensively while I stared out of the small window onto the bleak streets of a rainy day in Seattle. I was surrounded with buildings every freaking day. It didn't do much to help my present cynical mood. Don't worry. I'm not always like this. I guess it's just that time of the month again.

I twisted my body at the waist and reached behind me to scoop my school books off the counter while I balanced my cereal bowl in the other hand. Dumping the books into my backpack, I scarfed down the rest of the soggy cereal and got up to wake Natalie up. Natalie is my little sister, if I didn't already tell you that. She's the light of my life right now. I don't know what I would do without her.

Opening the door as quietly as possible, I slipped into the little blue room that was barely bigger than a closet. Actually, it was a closet before my mother had it remodelled into a nursery while she was pregnant with Natalie. Natalie was sleeping in the little crib standing in the corner. She looked so peaceful. Her pudgy fists were balled up but there was a sweet little smile playing on her lips that reminded me so much of my mother. She used to look just like that when she was asleep. I blinked back a tear and leaned over Natalie's bed. The soft, yeasty smell of sleep surrounded her and I was tempted to just skip school today just to watch her sleep. I couldn't, though. Those smug guys with the hats will come around again and ask me why I wasn't in school. Again.

My arms gently lifted Natalie out of her bed and she blinked sleepily at me before settling into my shoulder and falling asleep again. My hand rubbed her back as I went back into the kitchen and shouldered my backpack. I swaddled myself in my warm winter clothing and tucked a soft blanket around Natalie to keep the chill out. Then, I tramped to the door and slipped on my huge rubber boots. It was going to be a cold day today.

I opened the door and the freezing cold air blasted into me. I could instantly feel my fingers getting numb and my nose turning red. Hugging Natalie closer and hunching my shoulders, I slammed the door behind me and knocked on the one next door. It opened promptly and a gust of warm air counteracted the cold and made me defrost a little. An old lady who smelled of soap was standing in front of me with a huge smile on her face. Her name was Mrs. Jackson and she was the lady that looked after practically everyone's children for them while they were away at work. Or, in my case, school.

"Oh hello my dearest girls!" she cried happily and took Natalie from me. "I'll take good care of her, Lizette!"

I smiled. "Thanks, Mrs. Jackson. I'll see you this afternoon."

Mrs. Jackson nodded and beamed at me before closing the door in my face. I sighed. I always felt so guilty when I had to leave Natalie with old Mrs. Jackson. If I didn't have to go to school, I could just take care of her myself.

***

I arrived at school in the usual flurry of books, bags and a crowd of loud squirming bodies. I made my way to my locker which was painted an awful shade of orange. The locker next to me belonged to my best and only friend, Martin. Martin was an emo by name, but not by nature. He said that the reason he dressed that way was to keep people away from him. When I asked him why, he just shrugged and said, 'just because not everyone in this world is as nice as you are,' winking slyly at me over his tray of cafeteria mush. People had always assumed that we were dating. No matter how much we told them that we were just friends, they never believed us. Soon, we were known as the 'nemos' which was our high school slang for 'lost emo/nerds'. Like the little fishy. Ha. Ha. Not.

I didn't really care what people thought of me. They were all losers anyway. All the girls looked the same with their straightened and bleached blonde hair, cakey black mascara, neon pink fingernails, and pink bubble gum which seemed perpetually present in their glossy mouths. Martin was the only friend I needed. He was like a force of nature when you really got to know him well enough to see past the black hair and skinny jeans. He could always make me laugh when I had a bad day and he could always comfort me when I ran to his apartment, crying my eyes out about one thing or another. We tried dating once, just for the sake of trying it out. It didn't feel any different than when we were just friends, so we eventually forgot about it and the status dissolved between us as it had never existed. Well, it did for me, at least. I wasn't so sure about Martin, but I never asked. It didn't seem like something he wanted to talk about.

I smiled widely when I felt a pair of hand muss up my hair from behind me. "MARTIN!" I squealed loudly, "don't mess up my hair!"

Martin chuckled and tried to pat it down again with big clumsy hands. "Sorry, sorry. Sheesh Liz, you treat that hair as if it was made of pure gold or something." He snorted.

"Yeah, well, it's the only thing that's even remotely pretty about me so I'd like to preserve it, thanks." I rolled my eyes at him and entered the combination to unlock his locker so he could put his backpack away.

"Humph, you're not ugly," he retorted with a grunt as he shoved in his backpack, "You're just not a supermodel, that's all."

"Whatever. What's our first class?"

He grinned widely. "Sports, that's what!"

I smiled back at him. Martin and I loved sports of any kind and he was the only person that would even come anywhere close to beating me in anything so we were always paired up as partners in class. "Awesome," I said, grabbing my sports clothes and tying my hair up in a messy ponytail.

Martin put his arm around my shoulders and we made our way through the milling students toward the Gym. As we entered, Coach McKenzie called over to me to give the class a demonstration on the proper techniques of warm-up stretching. I left Martin's side and joined the teacher to guide the class through a series of movements to get their muscles ready for the arduous training that was in store for us.

Coach McKenzie was a large man. As in large in three dimensions; he was tall, fat, and wide all at the same time. It surprised me how he ever became a sport teacher in the first place. His eyes were always roving over one body or another. I could never really tell if his glances were perverted or professional, but I always felt uncomfortable around him whenever he did this. This wasn't the first time. His eyes lingered on my pitiful breasts as I stood on my toes and stretched towards the ceiling. As soon as his eyes met mine, he turned away and started looking at the blonde girls who were giggling and jumping around stupidly. What a disgusting man.

We finished our exercises and started jogging around the gym. Martin joined me and we enthusiastically started our little competition of who could outrun the other. I won, to Martin's exaggerated disappointment. He pushed out his bottom lip at me as I collapsed on the floor, panting. "You know, I'm going to get you back for this…" he grumbled at me.

I laughed, "As long as you don't put sour cream in my yoghurt again, I'm fine."

"Actually…"

"Oh god, not again!" I groaned, remembering how disgusting it had tasted.

He waggled his eyebrows at me and grinned. "Nah, just pulling your leg. Say, do you wanna meet me at the park this weekend? We can go and do some 'artwork' if you like."

'Artwork' was our little code word for graffiti. Martin and I had vandalized almost every square centimetre of the side a random apartment complex and our masterpiece was almost finished. It was a painting showing a rather bloody fight between a huge hairy werewolf and an emo-looking Dracula who looked a lot like Martin. The wolf was my idea. Wolves had always been my favourite animal and I was fascinated by the legends behind them. I had posters of wolves plastered all over the walls in my bedroom.

"Yeah, sounds great!" I called back as McKenzie blew his whistle, signalling the start of a basketball game.

I was terrible at basketball. It was probably the only sport that I didn't excel at. I never actually really got the point of ball games, because all you do is chase a piece of leather around a field. Or, in this case, a piece of rubber around a court.

The class charged like a pack of angry bulls from one end of the gym to the other. I kept to the edges of the crowd and nervously bounced on my toes. I could never catch the ball, and everyone knew that. That didn't mean that they wouldn't be disappointed if I dropped the ball when my chance came.

The class was finally over and I happily skipped to the showers, still on a high from the endorphins that were pumping through my veins. The shower was lovely and cool and I exhaled deeply as the cool water dripped over my scalp and ran down my shoulders, relaxing every muscle in my body. I soaped myself and rinsed myself off. I kept the water running for a little while, watching the little rivulets travelling over my hips and down my thighs. My hips were starting to widen a little, and the rest of me was definitely filling out a little. My body didn't look as disproportionate to my limbs anymore, and I was thankful for that. Maybe the bullying will stop after everyone's realized the changes that were taking place.

I shut off the water and wrung out my hair with a fluffy white towel. After drying myself completely, I reached into my bag and pulled out a plain pleated red skirt and a white singlet. I stepped outside after pulling them all and joined the giggling girls at the sinks where everyone was reapplying their cake-faces and mascara. I completely ignored them and separated my hair into bunches before finger combing them and pulling them into a braid at the base of my neck.

Lunch was just like it always was. Martin and I loaded up our trays with disgusting cafeteria slop and went to sit at our own little table. "So," Martin said, "how's your dad doing?"

I grimaced. "Not good. He threw up all over the carpet again last night."

"Oh." was all that Martin said in reply. He didn't need to say more. His face expressed the disapproval he felt toward my father and the pity he felt on my behalf.

I finished picking through the unidentifiable lumps of 'food' on my plate without eating anything and I got up to empty my tray. Martin got up too and jogged a few steps to catch up with my long strides. I didn't like talking about my parents.

Without a word, Martin and I left the cafeteria and went outside into the school yard where the football team was having a meeting. Martin looked wistfully at them and then turned away, following me to our usual little spot under the trees where we spent every lunch break. Martin had tried out for the football team almost every year, and each time they didn't let him join. Not because he wasn't any good, but because the team captain, Harvy Graeme, didn't want a 'nemo' messing up his team's reputation. People suck.

We engaged each other in quiet conversation until the bell rang and we went back inside to our next class. The rest of the day progressed in the same fashion and I whooped when the bell finally rang, signalling the end of the day and the beginning of the weekend.

"Movie night tonight?" Martin asked me. Friday movie night was our long-time tradition.

"Yeah, sure I'll be over at seven! See ya!" I chirped and hugged him around the waist. He patted my shoulder affectionately and removed his bag from his locker.

"Seven." He agreed, grinning at me.