WHAT IS THIS?

Think of it as the gritty reboot.

Reading the series, I saw tiny seeds of potential Meyer danced right over. It was evident that other ideas were tapping on the windows but she had a goal in mind, so she ignored them and stuck to her original idea.

I took those ideas and much like Jack & The Beanstalk, slammed them down onto the dirt and did an end zone victory dance.

As Meyer deliberately wrote her main characters to be easily filled and interpreted by the reader, I present to you my fully seasoned versions. They are, as the author intended, unique to me. As the same person can be beloved and hated by different people, so too are my flavors of the Twilight characters.

A few things have been written in to fill in the story, fix some plot-holes and answer some unanswered questions. I will stick to the main plot-points from the original series but the romance angle will be much different.

This is not a parody nor a vehicle to point out the flaws in the original series. I'm writing from the unique standpoint of having read the series and not liking the series but wanting to. In the Venn Diagram of Twilight fans and the Anti-Twilighters, I hope there is an audience for this.

Be harsh or kind but keep an open mind.

I remembered learning about corsets last year in one of my social studies classes. Historically,women wore corsets 24/7 (except when they bathed, which wasn't often) to squeeze and mold the ribs into a smaller waist. A side effect was the weakening of their abdominal muscles so to keep themselves upright, they had to wear the corset the rest of their lives.

They way Mom kept hugging me, I was going to have to find a corsetier in Washington as soon as I got there.

Over her shoulder I could see Phil looking pleased at the sight. All the pleading and begging gazes sent his way were steadfastly ignored or unseen. I sighed and tried –again– reasoning with my mother. 'I have to be at the gate in five minutes or the plane leaves without me.'

At least, that's what I tried to say. As if the word 'minutes' were some sort of pass code, her arms wound even tighter, cutting off my breathing. 'Baby,' she sniffed.

Before I could stop it, a rush of utter despair nearly knocked me on my butt. I snapped my eyes shut and tried to transport myself into a different place. A place, any place but here, where I wasn't me, where everything is made up. Gran had taught me to do that when I was a little girl and used to get scared when it stormed. A fortunate byproduct of reading was I always had some fantasy land fresh and within reach. Now I imagined myself in 802,701 A.D. surrounded by Morlocks.

I breathed, or tried to, and opened my eyes back up. Mom had pulled back enough to see my face. Her eyes danced back and forth as she looked at each of mine in turn. Keeping the Morlocks firmly in my mind, I only felt the edges of her sadness and . . . hope?

Oh. She'd taken my tears, now already no more than dry stiff paths down my cheeks, as a sign of me changing my mind.

My heart crumpled. How could I tell her those tears were the very reason I was leaving? As much as I loved her, I simply couldn't stand to live with her before I did something drastic.

I gave her a watery smile and stepped back. To be honest, I was a little surprised she'd actually let me go. She let out a squeak of complaint but quickly mollified when I merely moved to hug Phil.

To say he was surprised would understate his reaction. In that, he had none. When I thought about it, I supposed he'd probably never seen me initiate a hug, let alone on him. I felt the barest of touches on my shoulder as he patted me.

'Please,' I hissed in his ear, low and rushed. 'Watch her, take care of her and if you have to . . .' Now tears that were entirely my own were starting to burn down my cheeks. I gulped and tried to keep my voice even. 'If she starts to -'

He held me away and said, 'I will. I promise.' I could tell he fully meant it, as well. This was why I liked Phil: he was as implacable as a boulder in a windstorm. Most people would run away, have run away from the chaos Mom exuded. Phil didn't seem too scared of it. I guess that's what love is.

I gave my mom a kiss on the cheek. 'I've barely seen Dad in the past few years. I want to spend some time with him before I go to college next year.'

She narrowed her eyes, now raccoonish with smudged mascara and tattooed-on eyeliner. 'Are you sure this isn't about those girls?' A groan shot out of me automatically. 'I'm sure it isn't too late to transfer you to one of the charter schools!' She pressed on. 'Phil can probably pull some strings, can't you honey? See, maybe the superintendent is a baseball fan or something.

Sometimes I just had to marvel at my mom's logic. I was about to reprimand her for watching way too many soap operas when a voice announced boarding for my plane.

'I have to go, Mom. Love you'. I pulled her into one last hug, keeping hold of her arms so I could easily push her away, and kissed her cheek again. 'Keep me updated, okay?'

'Okay,' she promised but it was Phil's nod I cared about.

'Bye!' I swung my backpack over my back, biffing a kid who had the misfortune of walking beside me at that point. 'Sorry, sorry.'

He glared at me as I rushed toward the sleepy TSA agent who looked neither at the x-ray machine nor at me. I swore I heard a snore as I put my shoes back on.

A/N: I'm a little rusty so reviews are extra helpful. Also, I'm working beta-less so if you spot any spelling or grammar issues, feel free to point them out. Also, rating for future chapters.