Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the Twilight franchise. The universe and all it's elements were created by Stephanie Meyer and published by Little, Brown and Company. The movies are distributed by Summit Entertainment and produced by Wyck Godfrey, Mark Morgan, Greg Mooradian, Karen Rosenfelt and Stephanie Meyer. I've only read about seven Twilight fics in my life so I'm pretty sure I can't even say I've been 'inspired' by anyone either.
Pairing(s): all canon pairings will be addressed. Embry/OC (eventual). Jared/Kim.
'Soundtrack' suggestions (just 'cause):
The World I Know - Collective Soul
January 2004
Life used to make sense.
I would get up, get dressed, walk down the block to my cousin Jared's house and get a ride to La Push High School. At school I knew 'my place' in the pecking order as a freshman. Basically, I didn't really have one. We might be a small high school compared to most; but by god did we follow the societal rules.
Jocks and Preps. Stoners and Slackers. Overachievers. Computer Nerds. Band Geeks.
We all have our place.
Super quiet, quirky 'artsy' freshmen were at the bottom of the food chain. So far at the bottom, in fact, that we are even over-looked as bullying targets.
I liked it down there damnit.
That all changed a little over two weeks ago when Jared suddenly disappeared, in the middle of the night, for three days leaving my parents, my aunt and uncle, his stalker and myself frantic.
I think I was the only one who was a little less then pleased when he finally showed up with Sam Uley, looking more then a little worse for wear (and dangerously strung out if you asked me - no one did), coming back from a 'spiritual journey'. Call me crazy, but seeing my Mom and Aunt cry for three days thinking my cousin was dead shouldn't just get pushed under the rug 'cause the Council's new golden boy said so.
Speaking of which; it's funny how the Council didn't know fuck-all about a spiritual journey when Jared first disappeared and then suddenly, when he showed back up, they were telling us all about it. Apparently, it was a big secret 'coming of age' journey special young men, 'selected by the Council' take around the age of sixteen. The length of time can differ for each young man.
They couldn't tell us about it (or ya know, ask permission) until he returned.
I asked my father and my uncle and they both shrugged; they certainly hadn't taken one. Considering they both got full scholarships to Ivy League universities by the time they graduated La Push High I wasn't certain what exactly the Council considered 'special'.
However, I was pretty certain that Jared's apparent new use of anabolic steroids was going to ruin his chance at the baseball scholarship to Stanford he's been all but promised (as a freaking Junior!) providing the regional team he pitches for wins Nationals again this year.
I mean, I know we're Native American and that it's a 'cultural thing' (best excuse ever); but I'm pretty sure the scouts won't consider smoking weed in a pipe around a fire the same as jabbing a needle into your bicep to bulk up.
Jared didn't take too kindly to my questioning of it either (when he wasn't able to avoid me). First my forever mellow cousin actually lost his temper and then informed me that since I'm only half-Quileute I 'don't understand taking pride in my tribal history'. I threw a pillow at his head and walked out.
My 'half' status had never bothered him before his little journey; and it's not like I really look it either. Sure I'm a little paler then the rest of the kids in my grade and my eyes are dark blue but I've never been mistaken for anything other then Native. Considering I go to school with kids who get "spanish" when we're off the Res I'd say I'm doing pretty well.
Shit, it's not my fault that my Dad's apparently got a thing for red-heads and my Mom is basically straight off the boat Irish. If anyone in my family was going to have a problem with that they probably shouldn't have let my Dad go Harvard Law. Boston is like the U.S. Irish Mecca. Of course he brought home a souviner.
Technically two of them if you count me.
And who is me?
James Lee Cameron. Call me Jaime as my name is a particular pet-peeve of mine. According to my Dad it's the result of an obstetrics resident who wasn't very adept at reading sonograms yet and my mother's insistence that the nursery be completed before my birth.
Completed and including more then a few monogrammed pieces of furniture.
I decided when I was eight, and I fully understood why I had a boy's name, that lawyers are incredibly lazy.
They couldn't re-paint anything?
Or, I dunno, use the stuff for my younger brother who came along three years later? No, him they named Spencer (which I must point out is nicely androgynous). His stuff wasn't monogrammed. Nor was it blue.
Just in case.
I digress; back to why life used to make sense.
I'm no longer invisible at La Push High. I can no longer eat my lunch quietly in the art room and work on sketches. Upper classmen suddenly know my name.
This should be the dream of any, somewhat normal, freshmen. Instead I'm contemplating homicide for the next time Jared's psycho stalker or the baseball team or even a teacher corners me and asks about my cousin.
Someone should clue in the Council, for the next time one of their 'special young men' takes an unscheduled (and not parental approved) spiritual journey, that people ask questions when a 'special young man' (who happens to be a star athlete and straight-A student) still hasn't returned after two weeks. Especially, when he's seen strolling around the Res with someone that graduated a semester earlier, whom he wasn't ever friends with.
When that person also happened to suddenly turn down a full athletic scholarship after pulling their own disappearing act (excuse me, 'spiritual journey') those questions get a bit more pointed and nervous.
So yea, life used to make sense.
Note (please read): The story is the result of a lengthy conversation I had with a friend (who is a fairly obsessed Twilight fan) regarding the Twilight universe; specifically, the subject of imprinting. To me, imprinting is one of the most horrid examples of the subjugation of free will I have ever read about; and while sometimes it works out, in many cases the kindest description of it would be, 'mystical roofie'.
Something you must know about me before reading this - I am probably not what you could exactly call a Twilight 'fan'. I find the universe that was created to be interesting (despite it's many mis-steps) but the actual written document, the prose, to be juvenile and pedestrian. The fact that we are forced to view the series through Bella's eyes puts a filter on what could have been an honestly fantastic series of books. The mythology and history that could have been explored was instead watered down into a sappy 'love' story that was more nausea inducing then anything else.
This story itself will focus more on the wolf-pack but will take into account the general overall storyline of the novels, as viewed through someone else's eyes...someone who doesn't just smile and nod and say, 'well, okay then', when presented with some kind of 'magical' excuse. I've tweaked the timeline a little bit in places because the 'official' timeline pretty much likes to contradict itself and I'm a big fan of logic, even in fantasy fiction. It's nothing that should be terribly noticeable and nothing that really effects the storyline itself. We begin about a year prior to the novel "Twilight".
Any other A/N's will not be novel length. Promise.
Reviews and constructive criticism are much loved an appreciated. Flames will be used for marshmallows.
