Disclaimer: S. Myer and K. Brian are amazingly talented. I try, with their ideas.


Chapter one: Home

Esme comes to pick me up at the airport in Chicago. The first thing she does when she sees me is give me a bone-crushing hug and smile so big that it looked like it hurt. She looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties with caramel colored hair and soft features. Her voice was soothing, like my mom's when she tried to calm me down when I was little.

"Bella, it's so good to see you again. You've grown so much!" she gushed, holding me at arms length and then reaching for one of my bags.

I smiled in thanks, though I was more than a little nervous. "You look good too, Ms. Cullen."

"Just call me Esme, dear. Everyone else does."

Nodding, we trudged out of the terminal and straight for her car, a lush looking thing that I couldn't even begin to understand how much it must have cost. Noticing me eyeing her vehicle, Esme laughed, patting the trunk.

"Carlisle bought it for me a couple years back. It's a sweet ride."

"What is it?" I only asked more out of politeness than curiosity.

"Oh, it's a Lexus. 2007, maybe?" Brow furrowing, she lowered herself into the driver's seat and I hurried in after her, buckling my belt. She pulled away from the curb, making small talk the entire ride there.

She was nice enough, I guessed, but it still felt stiff and awkward to me. I knew from Renee that she had thrown herself into redoing one of the many bedrooms in their house especially for me so that I'd feel welcome there. Apparently, Esme was just so excited at the prospect of having another girl in the house that she could hardly contain it.

When we turned into a fancy neighborhood, I knew we were almost there. Tall pines stood proudly on every side of the drives, older couples strolling on the sidewalks and younger kids loitering on corners or on bikes. It was so lively, different from my boring little cul-de-sac back in Arizona.

Esme turned the wheel and suddenly I was staring the house straight in the face. The first thing I noticed was that it seemed the entire occupants of said house seemed to be outside. Esme looked at me with a smug smile, opening her door and saying quietly, "I've told them not to be a bother. Most of them are on their best behavior…"

I nodded as I blushed, having gotten caught ogling at her sons. Easily, I could spot the older ones, the ones that I knew from when I was little. Stretching the limits of my mind, I tried to remember their names and came up blank.

Dr. Cullen stood out among the guys, his bright blond hair shining in the afternoon sun. He and two of his sons, one large and broad-shouldered, the other tall, but slender, were playing some sort of rugby game. The big guy tackled Carlisle, smacking him to the ground.

Off to the side, another two of the five were playing what looked like an intense game of chess. What caught my interest was the odd color of the lanky one's hair: bronze, copper maybe. The sort of hair color you get when you mixed caramel-brunette and dirty blond.

Finally, a little rugrat. He ran around Carlisle, trying to get in on the game. When that was a failed attempt, he ran toward the two playing chess and sat down, mocking them and their stern gazes at the board. Obviously that was too boring for him, but soon enough, he spotted Esme and I, and hollered out, "They're here!"

Rounding the car, I helped Esme get my things out of the trunk as everyone looked over to us and then broke out in friendly grins. Being a mother, Esme simply laughed and yelled at the boy, "Hush, James. There's no need to shout, they can see perfectly fine."

All too soon, Dr. Cullen was rounding the guys up, straightening shirts and wiping dirt off of some faces. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed that he was in the military, not the medical business.

"Bella," he greeted, strolling over and embracing me in a hug that I was not expecting. The big one laughed at my shocked face.

"Um, hi, Dr. Cullen," I mumbled, my face already aflame again.

"Please, call me Carlisle."

Sheesh, what was with everyone and a first-name basis around here? Not that I minded…a lot.

Before I knew it, Carlisle was introducing the boys by age and size, it seemed like, and it started with the little rugrat, James. He certainly didn't look seven, but then again, all of their children looked about ten years older than they probably were. With a little tuft of hair sticking up in the back, and an evil eye that scared even me, I realized James wasn't someone I wanted to mess with.

"And this is Jacob."

Jacob was the adopted one of the family. Later on I'd learn how his father, someone named Billy who lived close to my dad, started having kidney problems, and once they put him on life-support, Jacob had no where to go. Esme took him in when he was ten, and he'd been living with them for the past five years. Definitely part of the family, no doubt about it.

Jacob gave me a rueful grin, shrugging under the massive bulk he packed underneath his fifteen-year old body. I smiled tentatively back at him.

"Jasper, of course."

This was one of the ones playing chess. Lanky blond hair, stunning blue eyes with a five o'clock shadow, I could easily tell where he got his looks from. Jasper watched me carefully, sizing me up, I guessed. The left corner of his mouth pulled up and I assumed that was his greeting.

"Emmett," Esme's voice rushed over Carlisle's whispering, "he's trying to be a body builder; we all know why, though."

I wasn't about to ask why that was exactly, but Emmett was the most exuberant of the group. Like his dad, he didn't give any warning before approaching me and lifting me into a bear hug, squeezing the death out of my lungs with just his biceps.

"Hey, Bella. I just know we're going to get along great," he laughed, setting me down and stepping back into line.

Shakily, I responded, "Yeah, same here, Emmett."

"This is Edward," Carlisle finally said, getting to the end with an almost proud note present in the golden hues of his voice.

Edward intrigued me the most, and not because I found him the undeniably handsome. Besides James, he was the only one who didn't look happy or curious to see me here. He stared at me, eyes the color of the deep green sea, almost challenging. Being much smaller than Emmett, I didn't understand how he could be the oldest, but I guess you can't judge a book by its cover. Edward was eighteen, turning nineteen in December.

"Hello," I said, albeit timidly. A curt nod was the only response I would get.

Everyone noticed the awkward tension that had floated into the atmosphere unannounced, and suddenly they were everywhere, doing anything but being near me. Esme directed me and Emmett (who helped with my bags) towards the stairs and into a room that could only be described in two words: mother overload.

She had painted everything a purple-ish pink. Nothing that represented the testosterone fueled boys in the house was left anywhere in the room, the walls with decorative flowers posted there. The dresser had tendrils of pink vines. The bedspread was a maroon, matching the overhead lanterns which were, of course, purple and pink.

I'm sure my mouth hung open in happy astonishment, but inside, I was screaming.

"Well, I'll let you unpack," Esme was saying, closing the door behind her. "Just let me know if you need anything. Dinner won't be for another couple hours."

Nodding though she couldn't see me, I slouched on the bed, putting my head in my hands.

What had I gotten myself into?

--

After dinner, Emmett had shown me the small little gym they had located to the side of the house. I expected a swimming pool, but since, apparently, no one swam competitively, there was no need for one.

The gym was polished and well-kept, basketballs and weights lining the walls. Emmett demonstrated a dunk for me and then left me to explore. It wasn't huge, but it made due for the boys, I supposed. What I was really thinking was how it would be great to practice in.

My mother passed a gene that had skipped her generation onto me: it's called clumsiness. No matter what I do, I can't avoid it. It's like a plague that just keeps coming back, unwanted and definitely annoying.

However, when Renee signed me up for ballet when I was five, I found that the shoes had an odd sense of power over that curse; my feet could move over the floors with ease, gravity the only thing that held me to the ground.

At first, I hated it. The blisters and sore feet were always a pain, and I annoyed my mom so much about quitting that I almost did. But then the instructor told me that I had a talent for dance, if I wanted to pursue it. She's seen me on my 'normal' feet, but that didn't deter her from recommending me to one of the better classes in the area.

Ballet was sort of claustrophobic for me, though. Every time an instructor would critique my form, or I'd watch the same dances over and over, trying to figure out how they did it, this small part of me felt crushed, like I wasn't doing what I really wanted.

Eventually Renee pulled me out of classes a year ago. Never stopping, though she didn't know about it, I kept practicing, any form I wanted.

Phil found out; it was the one secret that kept us as close as a step-father and step-daughter can be when he wasn't around often.

Alice took me to clubs, and from there, I learned all forms of dancing. At night, I felt…dare I say it, free. Cliché as it may be, it was true enough, to me anyway. I loved the feel of letting my body be pulled and snapped in every direction, creating art out of…myself.

Shaking my head of the past, I jogged up to my room and grabbed my dance slippers; different from ballet slippers, but having the same purpose. Spotting Emmett in the living room with James and Jasper, I stopped for a second.

"What're you guys doing?" I asked, wondering if I was allowed to.

James, of course, just sneered, "None of your beeswax."

Jasper shook his head at his brother, but murmured, "Emmett's getting his ass kicked by a seven year old at video-games."

"I am not!" Emmett protested, lifting his controller as if that would help him win.

With a small smile at their brotherly antics, I tried to say casually, "I think I'm going to hang out in the gym for a bit…see if I can magically learn basketball while I'm there."

If they knew me, they'd now that sports was not my forte. But they didn't, so I could get away with this, just this once. Until they did find out, I could practice and do whatever I wanted, pushing my body as hard as I wanted.

Jasper studied me briefly before shrugging and turning his eyes back to the screen. James had another sarcastic comment that I didn't hear because Emmett quickly shut him up with a massive elbow. "Have fun," he called cheerfully.

Turning on the lights, I sat in the middle of the floor, stretching muscles that hadn't been used in a while. Alice had taken on dancing when she was three and I fully expected her to get into ABA when we sent out college Apps. ABA: American Ballet Academy. One of the best schools in the nation for dance.

When I was six that was my dream.

Now, as I flung myself across the polished wood floors, I knew that somewhere, deep inside, it still was. But reality's a bitch, and her sister Greed wasn't too great, either.

I pulled my leg back, standing up on my toes and then lashing out at the air, feeling destructive. The sweat was already beginning to form on my face, dripping down my neck. The only sounds in the otherwise quiet room were my harsh breathing and the thuds of my feet hitting the ground, my body breaking barriers.

Finally, too exhausted to continue, I let myself fall and rested on my back, staring up at the ceiling. As my breathing went back to normal and my chest stopped heaving, I heard…clapping? Oh, God no. Please, I thought, wishing that it was just in my imagination.

But it wasn't, and as soon as I lifted my head, Edward was there, strolling casually into the room was a pen twirling between his fingers. His dark, brooding expression was still present, but he looked…extremely fascinated. And curious. And frustrated. Too many things.

Blushing and then stumbling over my feet to get to my bag, I yanked my shoes off, trying to side step him toward the door.

He called out after me, his voice loud and sure. "They teach you that in Arizona?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I kind of taught myself." Stuttering, unfortunately, gave me away when I was nervous.

If I wasn't sweating and had just had a pretty hard work out, he would have noticed how my skin flushed dark with embarrassment. Those dark eyes were riveted on me. I couldn't look away.

"For such a shy girl, you're pretty loud, Isabella."

I sucked in a breath, looking away from him as the blood started pounding in my ears. "Yeah, well…" Leaving it at that, I hoped he wouldn't ask for an explanation. Or for more demonstrations. I turned to leave again.

"Will you dance here?"

I hadn't even heard him cross the floor, but suddenly he was there, in front of me, looking entirely too wise to be eighteen years old. Intense would be the only word to describe Edward Cullen at that point in time. It was like he could see into my soul—and I didn't like it.

Brushing my bangs away from my sweaty forehead, I blew out a breath. "No, I don't dance. It was a hobby—a long time ago," I said slowly, "so forget about it."

My heart was thumping a thousand miles an hour when I finally made it up to my room and into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

Would he tell someone?

Would he joke about me, clumsy Bella who could barely dance?

Would he keep it a secret…between us?

The hot water did nothing to calm my nerves. My muscles relaxed, though, and eventually I emerged, pulling a ratty pair of pajama pants and a worn t-shirt out of my bag. Brushing my teeth, I unlocked the door and opened it to let some hot air out, only to be face to face with a white-clad chest.

"Woah—sorry, Bella." Jacob stepped back and retreated to his room.

I sighed; it was bad enough that I had taken over one of their rooms and invaded their lives, and now I was messing up their bathroom schedule. Great.

Sleep didn't come easy that night, and the thunderstorm that thundered through the area was nothing short of coincidental.

--

Bella Swan's Guide to the Cullen Boys

Entry #1

—They're all magnificently gorgeous. Avert eyes to prevent staring.

—Don't cap the toothpaste: it will only anger the masses and make more of a mess than before.

—Get a lock for the door before James steals another one of my bras; ASAP.

—Do not, under any circumstances, go into the cupboard in the basement; Emmett stocks his 'protection' there.

—Hide all journals and books; Jasper has a brown-noser streak in him.