Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

I can't believe this. I really can't fucking believe this. I can't believe that my ass is sitting on a plane, heading over to Forks. But I am, because lovely fucking Mommy Dearest has decided she's had enough of me. She told me that she loves me but can't emotionally deal with my abuse. She made it sound like I've been fucking hitting her or some shit. I haven't done shit to her – at least not that I can remember. But hell, I'm always so stoned on Meth that I can't really remember the past year of my life. The only things I can remember are the things I wish I could forget. The things that no amount of meth, crystal, heroine, or even a shiny new razor blade can make me forget. I huff, glaring darkly at the world outside my window. When Renee told me I was leaving, she had two fancy-smancy police dipshits there. As if I was going to go ape shit on her and pull an axe murder on her. Then, even though she had the police there and she was the one sending me away she tells me, "I don't want you to leave here, Bella, I really don't. But you're not the same girl anymore. And, until we can find a cure for your depression state, you're not allowed here anymore." Then she starts crying. Fucking crying and I hate her all over again. A decent daughter would've at least felt a little bad for making their mother cry. But I never said I was a decent daughter, now did I?

"Fuck you." I whisper to her, which of course makes her start fucking fake cry harder. I lean real close into her so my breath hits her face. "You're a real fake fucking bitch, you know that?" I whisper-hiss to her. Her fake cries turn into sob and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. Cry me a fucking river, bitch. I'm not exactly sure if I said that aloud or not, not that it would've fazed me one bit.

One of the police officers painfully yanks me away, almost ripping my arms out of their sockets. I growl at him and start to kick at him furiously. I hear him chuckle a little under his breath, showing that my strongest attempts to hurt this guy were worthless. I wasn't hurting him one fucking bit. It pissed me off. Majorly. Even though I know fighting this guy is worthless, I can't help but continue to thrash at him. Renee is fake balling. I hate her. I fucking hate her. So I tell her that. "I hate you; I hate you, I HATE YOU!" I yell at her, fucking pissed off. On the last 'I hate you' I choke and start crying. Fucking crying.

The moment my self-pitied waterworks begin is the moment HE comes out. All the self pity flows away from me so fast I forgot all about it and immediately dissolves back into anger as I look up and see HIS face. I don't bite back my glare. HE walks over to Renee and pretends to act like the perfect fucking husband, hugging her and letting her crying his chest like he really gives a fuck. Between Renee and HIM, I know I hate HIM more, no questions asked. HE's the reason why this whole fucking mess started anyway.

I snap my eyes closed and clench my jaw tight, grinding my teeth together. I remember how I used to drive my grandmother crazy by doing this. She said I was going to end up with a broken jaw and never being able to speak again. At the time, being the naïve age of nine, I was horrified. I loved talking back then because people listened to me. So I stopped grinding my teeth and clenching my jaw too tight. But, especially over the past two years since HE met Renee, I've started doing it again. Mainly because since HE came into my life I wasn't heard. Nothing I said mattered and no one responded to me and it was like I wasn't even there. (Well, until I got to almighty school where the students just loved to talk about me). I got it into my head to stop talking. But every now and again I would slip up and say something. So I started doing the annoying teeth-jaw thing that I did naturally without even noticing, hoping I would break my jaw and get it wired shut so I couldn't talk even if I wanted to.

I try to push the memories away. I didn't want to think about HIM anymore. I wanted to forget about HIM – and I knew exactly how to do that. No, I wasn't that stupid that I brought drugs or my razor with me onto the plane, they'd strip me of that faster than I could fucking blink. But there was one thing they couldn't strip me of. My nails. I slowly brought up the thin fabric of my sleeve and dug my nail in. Not too deep where it was noticeable, but enough for me to momentarily forget about HIM and this fucked up thing we call life. I was extra careful about how deep I cut, not wanting too much blood to come out. I kept it to a nice amount that I could just press the rest of my sleeve back down on for a few seconds and then it would be done and no one would've known I had done it. This is why I was sure to wear black so the blood stains wouldn't show. I did this every once and a while and before I knew it my two hours of flying were done and we landed in the Forks airport.

As soon as I stepped off the plane so much fucking noise hit me at once and it made my head hurt. The plane ride had been quiet for the most part, and even when it got loud because of a baby crying or some sort of crap like that, it was pretty easy to block out. But this – this much I couldn't block out. Tuning out an entire airport is fucking impossible. Or it is for me at least. My head starts pounding and I groan. I hate noise. Luckily, I was able to quickly retrieve my bag. The first thing I did was open the small little pocket in front and pull out my iPod. I sighed, relieved to see my baby once again, and plunged my ear buds into my ears, press a button, and blast out the world around me. I wish it had been that easy with HIM, press a button and I couldn't hear him and I could pretend like HE wasn't hovering over me doing God knows what. But, unfortunately, it wasn't that easy and I was forced to listen to the slurred together words that trampled out of his mouth and I was forced to watch with eyes wide open.

JPOV

"Did you hear about the Chief's daughter coming in to town?" Alice gossips for the millionth time. Alice Brandon is like all the other girls here. Drooling over me because she thinks I'm perfect. Maybe I do over achieve just a tad, but I was raised like that. "Do it right and do it right the first time, or don't even bother" were the exact words my Pa told me when I was only five years old. Ever since then, I learned to do things absolutely perfectly no matter how much I hate it. But doing everything perfectly also dying on the inside perfectly, right?

I could name a few reasons why I didn't go for girls like Brandon. One being I hate people who gossip. It's been a pet peeve of mine ever since I was ten years old. The second one, girls like her and her posse are just so fake, always doing everything to get other people to want to be them. I think maybe I might've liked Brandon if she didn't pretend so much that she has to hide who she really is. But all the girls here are like that for the most part, trying to be something their not to people to like them. I never understood why so much of the female gender stressed over being liked. Then again, I'm not a chick and I never will be so I'll never really goes on in their minds. Not that I'm sure I even want to know what girls are thinking. Okay, where was I? Oh, right. Brandon. A third one is...

"Jazzy!" A high-pitched voice brings me out of my thoughts. I jump up, startled, but I realize it's just Brandon again, probably trying to get me into the closet with her because she's grown tired of Edward. I blink once and turn to see her face very close with mine, invading my personal space. I expect her to turn away and burst out laughing when I look at her, but she doesn't. She just continues staring as if this is perfectly normal.

I clear my throat. "Yes?" I gulp and try hard not to look at her, hating how she's staring me down as if this is one of those murder shows and she's the smart detective and I'm a suspect who knows a deep, dark secret that's the key to the whole thing. I feel her breath hitting my cheeks, letting me know she hasn't budged. She's waiting for me. She's waiting for me to come out with some dirty little secret even though my conscious is clear. I'm perfect, remember? Being perfect means you don't make mistakes so you never feel guilty thus a clear conscious. So there is really nothing I should be sweating about. Nothing at all.

I feel her smile at me and a second later her small little hand is rubbing mind in a comforting motion. As if trying to calm me when it's her that's making me feel so uncomfortable in the first place. "I really care about you, Jazzy." She tells me. I don't believe it. The only thing she cares about is getting me in the supply closet with her. I close my eyes and frown, feeling her eyes watching my every little movement. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, her wet lips are on my neck. She turns so she's sitting on my lap, her legs hugging my waist, and her arms are tied around my neck as she slowly moves her lips from my neck to my lips. "I really care about you." She says between kisses. She closes her eyes and continues to kiss me, obviously not caring that I'm not kissing back. She rests her forehead against mine and keeps her eyes closed as she continues to kiss my lips, applying a certain pressure against my center. It doesn't faze me. So many of her and her slutty friends have tried this with me, thinking they'll get me to crack and fall under her spell. I'm not that dumb. I may have been dumb enough to believe Pa when he told me he was coming back, but that was then. Back when I was stupid. But I'm smarter now. Alice bites down on my lower lip, practically begging for some sort of reaction from me. I glance to the right and keep my eyes on the clock. Only a few more seconds of this torture, only a few more seconds of everyone of everyone staring until the bell rings and I can return back to period three and won't see her again for the rest of the day. "Jasper…" Alice pleads with me, begging for me at least to give her something. I will give her something, a reaction to this whole thing she's doing. I'm just waiting for the right moment. One more second… And…

RINGG!

I throw her off me a little harder then I should've and quickly rise from my seat in the cafeteria, leaving Brandon swallow-lipped for the rest of the day.

BPOV

After a while of standing and dumbly looking around, I come up short. No sign of my REAL Dad anywhere. This is just fucking great. I sigh and head over to the ocean of chairs located on the right-hand side of the airport. I settle myself into one of the chairs, the one at the very left end. I rest my head against the back of the chair, just now realizing how fucking tired I was. I sighed, just as the realization hit me a slow mellow song came out and impossibly made me more fucking tired. I close my eyes and start to get comfortable in the airport chairs as sleep forces my eyes shut.

I don't know how long I was out for but I know the next time I open my eyes it isn't the same time as it was before. The bright lights make my head hurt, not to mention all the noise around me. My ear buds must have fallen out during my sleep. On top of all this, some asshole next to me keeps saying shit that I can't fucking make out and my head hurts and I just some a fucking line or something. I groan, hoping the asshole next to me will stop fucking shaking me but he doesn't. My head starts to hurt more. I want to kill everything around me. Specifically the dumbass next to me who won't leave me the fuck alone. Below that my number two would be all these bright fucking lights that keep me from opening my eyes. Another shake on my shoulder. What the fuck does this asshole want with me?!

"Fuck off, asshole." I mumble hoping the dipshit who won't quit shaking me takes the fucking hint. The asshole does. Finally. My original thought on what I was going to do when the asshole stopped shaking me was go back to sleep. But now it's too fucking late and I'm already awake. I know when I open my eyes I will seriously murder this asshole next to me for disturbing me.

When I decide to tune myself in with the rest of the world, I can understand what the asshole next to me has been saying. The voice is deep, so I know it has to be either a guy or a seriously fucked up woman. I wait a few seconds and figure out that it's not just any guy next to me – but my father. "Bella, you awake? It's me, Dad. We need to go home. Can you hear me?"

Oh shit.

My eyes snap open and I slowly turn my head to face where the voice is. Sure enough, there in front of me is Mr. Charlie Swan, who I haven't spoken to since I was fifteen years old and HE took over. I wanted to hug him so badly it ached. But I restrained myself from it. This wasn't that kind of a visit where you're just visiting for the hell of it. No, I'm only here because Renee couldn't handle me anymore. As those thoughts dawn on me, there is an awkward silence between the two of us.

If you were simply were just someone walking by, the last thing that would cross your mind was that we were family. Let alone, reunited father and daughter. We both looked at everywhere but each other and we were trying our damndest to try and make the other suddenly disappear. We looked like we were complete strangers. But then again, maybe we are strangers. Both of us, or at least I know I have, changed since the last time we saw each other. I knew I was different. I knew I had changed and everyone thought it was for the worst but it's not like it was my fucking fault. It was HIS fault – No, wait, scratch that, it was Renee's fault for allowing him into our lives and allowing him to do what he did twice.

I really want a fucking line.

Charlie clears his throats and draws me away from my thoughts. "Shall we go?" He asks in a quiet voice as he fumbles with his hands, staring at the ground underneath his feet. Shall we? What kind of fucking British Nanny show is this and why the fuck did Renee put me on here for help? I stare at him and finally take the time to notice the sad look in his eyes. The thought that it was most likely me and the reason why I'm here is the reason for the sadness in his eyes makes my heart ache and for a second I feel sorry for doing all this stupid shit just because of one cruel man. But I said for a second. You didn't seriously think I'd change that quickly, did you? I nod, picking up my backpack and carefully picking up my iPod and shutting it down, not wanting to waste my battery before I even really needed it.

By the time we reach Charlie's cruiser, I can tell he is itching to start a conversation with me, ask me a few questions. And I don't want to talk about it just yet. I know that I'll have to at some point while I'm here but I'm just not ready. So when we're all buckled in his cruiser and pulling out of the airport parking area and Charlie's mouth opens like he's ready to say something I quickly untangle my iPod, hurriedly stick my ear buds in my ears, put the volume as high as it would go, and purposely chose a very heavy metal rock song so I have less of a chance of hearing him if he tries to talk with me. Maybe I reacted a little too harshly, maybe all the poor guy wanted to do was say 'what's up?' but I didn't want to risk it. Like I said before, I'm not ready yet. I have to re-get to know him before I allow myself to trust him with this deep secret of mine. But even then, I'm not sure if I'll tell him. I haven't told anyone anything, and I wasn't planning on telling any time soon.

When we reach the house I'm in the F second of my iPod (I started in the B section) listening to some Framing Hanley when Charlie motions to me that it's time to get out. He's treating me as if I'm like deaf or something. Not that I don't find it highly fucking amusing or anything. The house doesn't look different from the house I remember from my memories. The only major changes are that the paint is more faded but that's not something that huge. I hurry up to pace with Charlie. He sticks the keys in the door, unlocks it, and then opens the door wide for me to enter. "Welcome back home, Bella." He tells me and I know it's true because this feels a lot more like a home should then back in Phoenix.

Charlie takes my bags from me saying there "far too heavy for a young as myself to carry up all those stairs" but him and I both know the reason is that I'm feeling too weak carrying them because of all the drugs and not much of eating. We both are trying to avoid the true reasons not wanting to admit what the real situation here was. Charlie heads up the stairs and a few minutes later I do, too. I stop before my bedroom door, listening intensely. I hear the zipping of bags. I peek my head just far enough so I can see Charlie going through my bags. A part of me gets furious with him for going through my personal belongings but I know why he's doing it. He's checking to make sure I don't have anything harmful with me. When he's done inspecting I wait a few extra minutes before walking in.

Charlie turns and faces me. "Oh, hey Bells." He says, offering me his smile. I try my hardest to smile back at him but it just feels so awkward. I didn't bring my razor with me because I knew Charlie would think it was because of me carrying my cutting problem from there to here. But, shocking as it is, I actually had other uses for a razor other than for a good cut.

"Hey, um… Dad." I take a deep breath before saying. "I need a razor." At first he turns pale in the face. But he quickly covers it up with a skeptical look. I know I have to go into detail of why before he gets the wrong idea, so I add, "For shaving. I forgot my other one at home. Oops." Charlie considers this, trying to figure out whether I'm lying or not.

"Okay. I'll get you one by tomorrow morning so you can shower." He says. I notice how he didn't say how I was going with him, but I didn't question it. I just was glad Charlie didn't think that one was a lie. "But right now you might as well get in your pajamas and get ready for bed, it's late out. Don't tell me you forgot your tooth brush and tooth paste, too…"

I shake my head. "No. I'll just go ahead and get ready for bed. Night."

He runs his thumb on my along my cheek and then kisses my cheek. I close my eyes. "Night, Bella. Love you." I take that it. It seems like it's been forever since someone told me they loved me. I almost feel like crying like a little fucking baby. When I open my eyes, Charlie's gone. I open my bag and grab a pair of pajamas, ready as hell for bed but not ready for school tomorrow.

JPOV

I purposely mess with the collar on my dress shirt so it's sticking up instead of it being nicely folded down in attempt to hide the huge hickey Brandon had given me. It was working and for a while I was able to forget the whole thing happened. Maybe, just maybe, Brandon took the hint and decided to lay off me. I wasn't interested in her. I gave her the perfect rejection a jerk could give her and a jerk I was. But I didn't really care if she thought I was a jerk. If that's what it took for her to lay off, then looking like a jerk was worth it.

But perfect guys aren't jerks – they're the perfect sweet heart. When I open the door to my house and attempt to cross over into the warmth, Ma immediately shoos me off. She shoves one dozen red roses into my hands and demands I walk all the way over to her house and apologize. She told me the principal of the school called saying that I harmed Brandon. Ma is more than livid with me. She tells me all about how her daddy's a lawyer, one of the best in Forks, and that he could sue us for harming his perfect little angel of a daughter. She said that that could make us lose some major bucks and we can't afford that. I know she has more than enough, though. When she keeps going on and on about how much money we could lose I want to tell her that maybe if she didn't buy a mansion for a house, or that new convertible of hers, or the flat screen TV, or the hot tub she had installed out back we'd have enough money. But I don't say that, I know better. The last thing I hear Ma say before I close the door and begin my walk over to Brandon's is: "Rosalie would never do this."

Right. Of course perfect little Rosalie would never do something so terrible and cruel. Rosalie's perfect. My perfect twin sister. Even though we look alike, I'm not her and I never will be. God forbid, I'm not a perfect saint child. So you might as well just kill me now.

I sigh, taking the roses like a perfect gentleman. But I'm not perfect. Rosalie is, but I'm not. I'm not as good as her. Even Ma thinks Rosalie is better than me. I know Pa must've thought Rosalie was better than me. When Pa left I was ten and I wet the bed and I couldn't say my S's right and I had learning disabilities. My teeth were yellow and stinky and crooked. I had extra teeth that grew above my regular teeth. Lastly, I was really chubby. I worshiped fast food like it would disappear from the face of the planet if I ever stopped eating it. I look different now, of course. I don't wet the bed anymore, my S's are perfect, and instead of being a slow learner I'm a fast learner and I'm the best of all my classes. I was brace-face for two years solid but it was worth it because I not I had teeth straighter than a stick and teeth as white as diamonds. I'm different now. I changed. Sometimes I wish I could bring Pa back and show him that I'm better and that will solve the problem and we can go back to being a happy family that we once were but I know that will never happen.

I turn a right corner. I know where Brandon's house is – always have. She lives across from a lake that Pa used to take me to when I was little and he was here and he still loved me. I don't like coming here very often. It makes me remember painful things about Pa that I wish I could forget. Coming here reminds me that I'm not perfect. I don't know if the thought of me comforts me or discomforts me. I guess it really just depends on the moment. I glance at the lake once. After a one second glance I already hate myself so I decide to shuffle my way up to Brandon's front door. I softly knock on the door and wait for an answer, part of me hoping someone was home, the other part hoping they weren't. I shove my hands into my coat pockets and stare at the ground.

A minute later I hear the door open. I peek up expecting to see Brandon but, of course, standing there is her father who scares me. "What the fuck do you think you're doing here, Whitlock?" He spits at me. I gulp and childishly raise the dozen roses from my side, my hand shaking.

"I just came to… I just…"

"Daddy," Brandon interferes. I never once thought I'd be glad to see her. Right now, I am. Her dad looks like he's about to murder me and I wonder what Brandon's been telling him. "I got this. Let me at least talk to him, I'll be sure to let you know if something goes wrong, okay?" If something goes wrong? What does she think I'm going to do – hit her or something? Her dad looks back and forth between me and her then kisses her on the forehead. He whispers something to her that I can't hear but she nods and then he walks off, glaring at me the entire time. Brandon steps out and closes the door. "What do you want, Jasper?"

I hand her the roses. Her face lights up and she snatches them from me quickly. She smells them and smiles. "I just came to apologize." I tell her. "I'm sorry for throwing you off, it was really uncalled for and I'm sor-"

"I knew it!" She interrupts me. "You like me! I knew it!"

I lose my train of thought entirely. "What?!" Where did she get that idea from?! One second she's trying to seduce me, the next she hates me, and now she's thinking I like her?! "No, I don't like you, Alice! Why would I like you?! You're a slu…" I stop myself from saying that word.

"I'm a what?!" She screams at me.

I'm screwed. "Uh… Nothing. You're a great girl; just not my type is all. I-I'll see you at school tomorrow." I try to escape her but she grabs my wrist and stops me.

"That's not what you were going to fucking say!" She screams at me. "You were going to call me a slut!" She pauses for a moment before yelling loud and clear. "DADDY!" My breath stops. Immediately I blot away just as the door swings open and her dad starts to yell after me.

--

When I get home, Ma is more mad at me then she was when I left. Not that I really care anymore. I'm not perfect, believe it or not. Sorry. "YOU CALLED HER A SLUT?!" Ma shouts at me. She doesn't wait for my reply. "A slut! A SLUT! Do you want us to go bankrupt, boy?! Don't you want your sister to be able to go to college?!"

"Rosalie?" I whisper. "What about me? Don't you want me to go to college, too?"

Ma scoffs at me. "Please. You've got as many brain cells as your shit-for-brains father." Ma takes a smoke of her cigarette. She smokes three packs a day. She had bright-short red hair that stops at her cheeks. Her hair is uncombed and her teeth are all yellow from all her smoking. I've never noticed how ugly she was.

"Don't call him that." I hiss.

Ma turns to me. "I can call that asshole whatever the fuck I want, thank you. God, I can't believe you still defend him like that when he's the one who left me."

"Well, you're the one who made him fucking leave in the first place!" I yell at her. I'm not one for cussing. It's never been my thing. But right now, it felt right. It felt good. I want to keep making myself feel like that, release my bottled up anger. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

"EXCUSE ME?!" She shouts at me. But I don't care. I head up the stairs and slam the door shut, feeling good to release my anger. Slam, slam, slam, cuss, cuss, cuss. I feel on top of the world. But suddenly Ma's words dawn on me. She doesn't think I'm smart enough for college.

I crawl into my bed, not caring to take off my day clothes and change into pajamas. I don't care. I close my eyes and feel a tear roll down. Great. I sigh. Even though I'm a guy, I've never been afraid to cry or anything. I never tried to act tough because I knew I wasn't. I was a sensitive, insecure, little baby. Seventeen-years-old and crying himself to sleep. Please don't tell anyone that I'm not strong. That I'm not perfect.

I'm perfectly screwed.

Perfectly broken.

--

Ma doesn't talk to me all next morning. I don't care. Of course, she talks to perfect little Rosalie. I'm no longer angry with Ma, more I'm back to the 'I hate myself' mood that I can never name. I wasn't going to have a future. No one had faith it me. I was going to fail miserably. So why wait for a future of failure? I sigh and get ready for school.

School today is going to be… interesting. Fun, fun, fun.

--

When I get to school things are being said about me. Not good things. Untrue things. The weird thing is, all of them have to do around the same thing.

"Here comes the rapist."

"You deserve to be locked up, Whitlock."

"I hope you go to prison and they beat your ass for raping an innocent person."

RAPIST?! They think I'm a RAPIST! They think I RAPED somebody?! What was going on?! I knew only one person could be behind this. I approach her standing with her friends. "Brandon." I hiss at her, grabbing her wrists.

She yanks them away. "Don't touch me, asshole!"

"What are you telling people about me?! You aren't telling everyone I raped you, are you?!" She's quiet. "Why would you do that?! You KNOW I didn't lay a hand on you, Alice! Why would you lie about something like that?!" I tighten my grip on her wrist.

She looks like she got caught. Good. She looks around before saying louder. "I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!" She starts to make herself cry and one of her robot friends, Jessica, turns her around and lets her cry into her chest.

"You're really fucking sick, Whitlock." Jessica says to me. I stand there, baffled and not believing anything that's happening. Alice is accusing me of raping her. Oh… My… God. After a few minutes the commotion about me "raping" Alice dies down and turns into commotion about the new girl coming. I don't care about it and I don't care about her. I glare at Alice and make my way to first period.

BPOV

Out of habit, I woke up the next morning pretty early. I squeezed my eyes shut and then opened them again. More relaxed than yesterday but still not ready to go to fucking school yet. I turn my head and look on my side table where a razor laid, still in package. I read the cover where it said 'No more cuts!' I remember seeing a commercial on these razors before. I sigh, lift myself out of bed and head into the shower. I make the water as hot as hell's flames and by the time get out my skin is a bright red. But I don't care. I don't honestly give a fuck how I look anymore. I make my way out into the kitchen where Charlie is seated at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.

Charlie looks up at me. "Good morning, Bells." He smiles at me. "You look very beautiful today." I know someone normal would've said thank you and maybe blushed but I'm not fucking normal. I'm fucking screwed up and Charlie's words remind me of what someone else once said to me. Similar words, but completely different meanings behind them. There's Charlie, whose is trying to be nice to me, and then there's HIM. A disgusting, gross… Pig.

I come back to Earth. "Thank you, Dad. You look very nice today, too." We sound so fake and acted but I know over time we'll start to act natural around each other again as if nothing happened and I was never a crazy, psycho drug addict/cutter. He smiles a little at me.

"You hungry? We have toast, if you want it."

I shake my head no. Charlie looks at me skeptically. "I'm just going to eat at school." But the truth is I'm not hungry at all. Despite me telling his I was going to eat at school, Charlie slides me the other half of his toast. Renee must have talked with him. I sigh and force myself to take a bite, my stomach feeling all sick and queasy.

Five minutes later we leave for school. I'm attending Forks High School. The car ride is really quiet and dull and the silence starts to suffocate. Finally, we arrive at the school. I sigh, not looking forward to it at fucking all.

"Have a good first day." Charlie tells me as I bend down and grab my backpack off the ground. I swing my bag over my right shoulder. Here it goes…

"You too." I whisper. I say 'you too' to everything. You might as well learn that about me right now. I hop out of the car and start to make my way up to the school when suddenly…

HONK!

I jump and spin around, running back to the car. Charlie rolls the passenger window down. "Did you forget this?" He says, holding my iPod out to me. Oh thank god! I wouldn't have been able to survive without that fucking thing.

I grab it from him and smile gratefully at him. "Thank you." I whisper to him and run off to the front doors of the school. I put my ear buds in but don't turn it on just yet. I hear whispers inside the school. I press my ear against the door.

"Quick! She's coming!" I hear someone say as if their planning my fucking surprise party and the lights are dimmed and when I open the door everyone's going to jump out and yell "SURPRISE!" I sigh and turn my iPod on.

This will be quite an interesting school year.

--

A/N: Yeah, yeah. I know I just uploaded a story yesterday.... But I wanted to see what you guys thought of this one? Do you want 18 or Eyes Wide Open? Sorry for all Bella's cursing - but it's just natural for me to make her cuss... a lot. This is OOC. Very OOC. Enjoyed?

WOAH! 6,000+ words! AHHH! That is so amesomazing! Did you guys like it? I really hope you guys did because I worked SO hard on this! I'm sorry it was all detailed in the beginning and then stopped being so detailed in the end. I got sort of lazy, as you can tell. But I hope you enjoyed it besides that. I want to give a huge thank you to Jules96 for giving me the idea! Thank you so much! :)

-Geena