You're Not Sorry

by Mel.Grace.4

Bella is moves to a new school because of musical opportunities, and finds it difficult to move past the life that her Mother tries to instill in her. Yet when the Whitlock family befriends her, she knows she's found a second home. But will the popular guy at school threaten everything Bella's ever wanted? Most of all, will she be able to live with herself in the end of it all? A/H

2. Chapter 1: New Friends

Chapter 1: New Friend (7 years prior to the prologue)

A/N: This is my first chapter, where you really get to read into my variation of these characters. Realize that these characters will be completely different from the books. Read and review when you're done, which'll let me know of your thoughts. :) Thanks! See ya at the other side. Mel

Disclaimer: This is still not my story.

I parked my car into an empty space not too far from the front door of Northfield High School and took a deep breath. My heart was fluttering rapidly, and I hoped I wouldn't have to resort to using my crutch. I hated myself when I would cave, but sometimes there was no point but to cave. I made the foolish decision to move right before the start of my junior year to live with my Dad, but I had tolerated enough of my Mother.

I clenched my jaw and grabbed my backpack as I got out of the car. I locked it, and began my walk towards the High School front doors. Slinging my backpack onto my shoulder, I took in my surroundings that would quickly, and remembered what my Dad told me. "It's beautiful until the leaves fall, and the snow starts. Winter lasts from November until April, practically half the year. January and February will be worse than our freezers, and we get dumped with snow nonstop. We're the Freezer of the Midwest, Bells, get ready for it."

"Hey, you! You parked in my spot!" I heard someone curse behind me.

I turned around to face the velvet voice behind me, and arched an eyebrow. "Really?" I asked, feigning the typical dumb-blonde act.

"Yes, really." He rolled his eyes in annoyance. I took his uncommon shade of bronze hair - I would know, my Mom is a cosmetologist and tried to dye my hair countless times to achieve that color. His emerald eyes pierced me, and I gripped myself with an iron strength to refrain from squirming under his penetrative gaze.

"Well, I'll move." I muttered, angry that he was so juvenile about his "parking space." What was this? Kindergarten?

"No. It's fine." He ground out, shoving past me, as he spotted a tall, blonde model-like girl.

I rolled my eyes, and entered the building. I spotted the receptionist and walked over towards her. "Hi, how can I help you?" The elderly woman asked me, a fake smile plastered on her over made-up face.

"I'm Bella Swan, a new student. I need my schedule and list of textbooks, please." I introduced myself.

"Hi Bella. I'm Mrs. Uley." She said, typing into her computer.

I nodded, and stared off towards the school foyer. I could see that this was an older school, as the walls were the square bricks you would see in the basement of a parking garage. Stamped on the bricks were the handprints of seniors who had graduated from this school, with their name and year of graduation. I could tell that I had moved to the town where everyone knew each other, or of each other.

"Okay, Bella, this is your schedule and this is the list of books you need to get from the library. This is a map of the building. Don't get confused with the layouts of the building. Rooms A1-20 are the mathematics classes. Rooms B21-40 are the science classes. Rooms C41-60 are the history classes. Rooms D61-60 the English classes. Rooms E61-70 are the music related classes - that will include the choir room, orchestra rooms and band rooms. Rooms F71-80 are the language classes. Rooms G81-150 are the electives. Teachers offices are located in the hallway they teach, often being located next door or across from their classroom. Hallways have colored tiles on the floor that have the colors that pertain to the various letters." Mrs. Cope explained in a monotonous tone. I could tell she had already done this for years, and I held myself from snapping at her disrespectfully. My Grandma had taught me better than that.

"Thank you, Mrs. Cope." I said, taking the sheets she printed for me.

"You're welcome. The gym is I151, the pool is J152. The basketball court, weight room, and baseball cages are further down the athletics wing." Mrs. Cope added.

I smiled. "Thank you."

Mrs. Cope nodded, and went back to staring at her computer screen. Other students started walking into the foyer of the building, and I knew I had to hurry up in order to get to my books on time for my classes. I looked at my schedule, and felt comforted knowing that my last period of the day would be taken up with an AP Composition class.

Homeroom - (Banner) B40

First hour - AP English Literature (Cullen) D63

Second hour - Study hall (Vavricheck) library

Third hour - AP Geology (Banner) B40

Fourth hour - Honors US History (Platt) C57

Fifth hour - lunch D

Sixth hour - Advanced Statistics (Borne) A17

Seventh hour - AP Composition with Piano (Volturi) E77

"You've got same the course load that I do." I jumped at the new voice, which I registered to be over my shoulder. I grabbed hold of myself mentally, and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

"Who are you?" I asked, suspicion lacing my voice. I prayed the undertones of fear stayed hidden as I took in the guy standing next to me. Correction, he towered over me. I was only a meager 5'1", this guy must have been at least 6'5". He had dishwater bleached, blonde curly hair, and the oddest shade of blue/green eyes.

"Jasper Whitlock, ma'am." The Irish burr laced his words, and I could tell he was new too. He had the map of the building on top of the sheets of paper that seemed to match mine.

"Don't call me 'ma'am.'" I said, my voice soft. "It makes me feel old."

"What's your name then?" He asked, matching my vocal volume.

"Bella. Bella Swan." I answered, blushing. I cursed mentally that I couldn't shake the habit of blushing whenever speaking to guys - no matter who they were, I always blushed when talking about myself. Always.

"Well, Bella, you have the same courses as I do. Mrs. Cope told me, so I thought I'd introduce myself." He said, his burr lacing his speaking.

"Want to get books together?" I offered, extending the proverbial branch.

"Sure." He agreed. Looking at the map together, we walked to the library in silence. "How long have you been playing piano?" He asked, his voice full of curiosity.

I looked up and stared at him. "Why?" I returned his question with a question. I was suspicious. No one asked me questions about myself, unless they wanted something from me.

His smile lost some of its life, and he shrugged. "I loved watching videos of you competing."

I gaped at him. "You watched me?" I asked, incredulous.

He nodded. "You're very talented."

I felt the blush flood my face and neck. "Thank you." After a couple seconds, I answered his question. "Mom insisted I learn to play piano since I was able to sit up."

Jasper nodded. "You've proven yourself to be the world's next greatest pianist."

"Yeah right. Thanks." I snorted.

Jasper looked at me confused. "Why do you not believe me?"

"First of all, those are videos that I practiced for a straight 20 hours a day every day until the competition, for about 3 weeks. If you only would have seen teh amount of make up they caked on my face to make me look like I slept the whole night. Second of all, there are people out there better than me. Third of all, I don't want to be." I said as I entered the library, effectively ending the topic.

"Okay." Jasper gave me a smile and walked to the receptionist, Ms. Vavricheck, who was a younger woman than I had seen working here as a teacher or employee. "Hello Ms. Tanner. I'm Jasper Whitlock, and this is Bella Swan, and we're here to collect our textbooks." He said with his Irish burr.

Ms. Tanner gave a genuine smile to us both. "Of course." She responded. "Your name, please?" She asked Jasper.

"Go first, Bella." Jasper said, gently pushing me forward towards the desk.

Ms. Tanner gave me a smile and waited for me. "Uhh... Bella. Bella Swan." I said.

"I need your full first name, hun. I'm going to print a label that goes on the inside of the book and I need your full name, middle name initial and last name." She explained.

I sighed. "Isabella M. Swan."

"Is your name spelled generically or did your parents get creative?" She clarified.

"Generically." I murmured.

"Date of birth?"

I sighed, uncomfortable with sharing such personal information in public. "September 19th, 1996."

"Address?"

"600 Turnberry Ct. Northfield." I responded softly.

"Thank you, Bella. Can I have your ID to type up your ID number, and then access your classes?"

I handed her my ID after fishing it out of my backpack pocket.

"Okay. I've got your labels printing, Bella. Jasper, your turn." Ms. Tanner said after a couple minutes.

"Jasper J. Whitlock. Septemper 18, 1996. 689 Turnberry Dr. Northfield." He recited, handing her his ID card.

Ms. Tanner gave Jasper a smile as she typed up all of his information and began printing his information, said, "You two are our last juniors to get their materials. You excited for the new year?"

"Yeah." Jasper answered. "I just moved from Ireland, so I'm excited to learn about Minnesota and live here."

"Wow. Welcome to the land of the free, young man." She exclaimed, and then began to explain to us how we were to treat our iPads.

After receiving our books and iPads, we walked towards our first class. "You want to come over after school and do homework together?" Jasper asked as we entered our homeroom classroom.

"Uhh... maybe? I.. have to go check out my piano teacher today at 3:00 until 4:30." I explained, remembering my interview that I had set up

"Wow. That sounds like fun. I've always wanted to see you in action on a piano." Jasper said as we sat down in our desks.

Before I could think about what I said, I blurted out, "You should come then." I masked the feelings of self-hatred as I mentally scolded myself for not controling myself better.

Jasper's face lit up. "I will." He grinned, and turned to pay attention to Mr. Banner who walked in and introduced himself.

-later that day-

Jasper and I met up for Composition with Piano with Dr. Volturi, and I gave him a small smile at him. "You ready?" I asked, masking my excitement to meet Dr. Aro Volturi, who was a pianist who had taken the world's best pianist position 30 years ago, and kept it until recently when Dr. Cauis Demetrius took the position 7 years ago. Dr. Volturi retired and began to teach Composition with Piano 6 years ago, and from what I heard, he was a phenomenal teacher.

Jasper smirked at me. "Sure am. Lets go."

As we entered the classroom, I took in my surroundings. My eyes were drawn to the huge, 8 ft Bosendorfer grand piano sitting in the middle of the room, surrounded with 2 other Steinway grand pianos.

"Hello, welcome to class." I turned to the desk in the corner of the studio, and saw Dr. Volturi sitting there.

"Hi." I smiled.

"Hello sir." Jasper said, turning on his Irish charm.

"Welcome. You two are my only students in this class, as I've requested only 2-4 students per period." Dr. Volturi said. "I'm sure you know my name already, but in this room, we're going to spend 3 days actually composing, and the other 2 learning about composition. That being said, at the piano, I want to be your mentor, and not your teacher."

"I'm," I began to introduce myself but Dr. Volturi interrupted me.

"You're Bella, and he's Jasper. How long have you been playing piano, and what is your primary instrument that you play?" Dr. Volturi asked us, pulling out a notebook.

"I've been playing for 17 years. My instruments vary, but generally it's the piano and violin." I said.

"9 years. I focus on piano, but also play 11 other instruments." Jasper answered.

Dr. Volturi nodded. "Good. Bella, how many instruments do you play total?"

"12." I took in the Bosendorfer, and stared at it.

"Okay. Well, today, I just want to get to know your style. So the Bosendorfer is my personal piano - if anyone damages it, you will be pulled like a string. You two choose whatever piano you want." Dr. Volturi said, flipping his notebook closed.

I sat down at the cherry wood piano, and stretched my fingers, while Jasper sat down at the ebony piano. "Oh, Dr. Volturi?" I inserted quickly, before he began to say anything.

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"I have been recovering from severe carpal tunnel in both wrists in the past 9 months." I divulged. "I've been in physical therapy for all of those 9 months, and I'm healed. But my wrist strength is not what it used to be."

Dr. Volturi nodded. "That's fine. You don't need wrist strength at all. I'm surprised Phil Dwyer still teaches that philosophy. Anything I need to know about, Jasper?"

"No, sir." Jasper responded.

"Don't call me 'sir'," Dr. Volturi commanded. "It makes me feel old."

I snickered and Dr. Volturi laughed. "Okay, I'm old, but don't remind me of it."

Jasper laughed loudly at Dr. Volturi's expression, and I could tell it would be a good semester.

-after class-

"Where are your piano lessons going to be at, Bella?" Jasper asked as we walked out of the front doors of the school.

"St. Olaf College." I responded quietly.

"Hey you!" The bronze haired guy came rushing out of the school.

I ignored him. He was just another typical guy trying to pick on me and bully me. I didn't need people like him in my life, and I was going to make sure that he stayed out of my life.

Jasper looked over his shoulder, looking for whoever was calling out loudly.

"Hey, you." The bronze hair guy now stood in front of me. "I'm sorry, I don't remember your name. What is it again?"

Anger flared inside of me and I snapped, "I don't recall giving it to you."

"Yeah, well, I want to know it." Bronzie responded, full of arrogance.

"Bella, who is this?" Jasper asked, confused.

I gave Jasper my signature death glare.

"Bella?" Bronzie repeated, as if tasting my name on his tongue.

After a couple seconds of silence, I rolled my eyes and started to walk around Bronzie when he finally spoke, his voice hard and full of hatred. "Bella, whatever you do, that's my parking spot. Don't park in it tomorrow. Because there will be hell to pay." He pointed to my car, and raised an eyebrow at me.

The anger boiled over. How DARE this guy, who barely knew me, demand me to follow his instructions? I reached out, and slapped Bronzie's cheek. HARD. "Don't you DARE talk to me like that." I sneered at him. "You don't know me, and you don't deserve to. You leave me alone."

"Bella, I'm not kidding." Bronzie warned.

I stopped, took off my backpack and handed it to Jasper, who looked surprised and confused. I then whirled around and gave Bronzie the glare. "I wasn't kidding either, buddy. You may think you're top dog here, but you're really just a coward picking on people who have their life together. What are you? A kindergartner? I'm new here, and I'm not sorry for parking in your 'parking space'," I threw up air quotes and continued, "but I will tell my Dad about you, and he'll take care of you."

"Oh, you're going to go tell Daddy-o who bought you that car?" Bronzie sneered back at me.

I fisted my hands in anger. "No. I'll tell the Cheif of Police about you, who just happens to be my Dad." I retaliated. "For your information," I taunted as I began walking away backwards from the stunned Bronzie, "I bought my car with my own money that I earned. What'd you do? Sleep with your Mom to get her to buy you a car?"

I whirled back around, ignoring Bronzie's cursing behind me, and taking my backpack from a dazed Jasper. "See you, Jasper." I said nonchalantly.

"Hey, I thought we were going to piano lessons!" Jasper broke out of his daze.

I arched an eyebrow at Jasper. "I am. You're not."

"I'm not?" Jasper asked, hurt creeping into his eyes.

"Do you want to?" I responded, his expression instantly making me cave in guilt.

Jasper shrugged. "I'd like to."

"Fine. You take the bus?" I asked.

"No. My Dad drove me today. She teaches here." Jasper explained.

"Oh. Do we have him?" I wondered.

Jasper shook his head. "No. He's the Principle."

I gaped at him. "Whoa! Big boy, huh?"

Jasper rubbed the back of his neck. "No... not really. I'm avoiding the Principle's office as best as I can for the school year."

I nodded. "Gotcha. Well, lets go then." I twirled my keychain around my finger as I pointed out my Murano.

"Nice ride." Jasper commented.

"Thanks. I bought my baby after World." I said, clamping my mouth shut after revealing such a personal detail about myself. It wasn't that I hated Jasper and didn't trust him - I actually liked Jasper. As a friend, that is. But I don't trust anyone. I don't let anyone in, and I don't want to let anyone in. I unlocked my car, and put my backpack in the trunk. "Want to put your backpack here?" I asked.

"You did amazing at World, by the way." Jasper complimented me, as he put his backpack in my trunk and shut the gate.

"Thanks." I muttered, and walked to the drivers seat. I could see Jasper sigh and take a deep breath as though I had just hurt him, and he was trying to get over the pain as fast as he could before he had to face me. I instantly felt guitly. As Jasper got into the passenger seat, I said, "Look, Jasper, it's not that I don't like you. Don't think that please. I'd like to think I made a friend with you today. But I don't trust easily at all. Once bit, always shy. It's a terrible habit, my Dad would tell me, but it's who I am."

"You also don't take compliments very well. You don't like people misjudging you, especially before they know you. And you really hate arrogance." Jasper added. "I know." He gave me an encouraging smile. "I want to earn your trust, even if it's discouraging at first. Let me get used to it, ok? You're the first person who I know who is so wary of people."

I nodded. "Deal. Don't push me for details of my life though." I said, starting my car.

"Deal." Jasper agreed, as Bach's B Minor Mass filtered through the sound system. "You like Bach?" He asked.

"Mhmm." I began driving towards St. Olaf. "He's my favorite composer."

Jasper's face lit up as he began to explain the intricasies of Bach, all of which I knew, but listened to anyways. He talked the entire way to St. Olaf about Bach, and I listened, a small smile on my face. As I parked on the parking lot in front of Christiansen Hall of Music, and looked at the clock. "Crap." I muttered.

"What?" Jasper asked, confused.

"It's 2:58. My meeting is at 3:00." I explained, moving quickly to grab my music books.

Jasper got out of the car quickly and I locked it. "Lets go." He said. "Where to?"

"I dunno." I muttered, entering the front of the building. There was a swarm of college students moving in the foyer of the building, and I refused to take in my surroundings, despite noticing the signs for the bathrooms, and seeing the vaulted ceilings with pictures of past music majors. I saw the sign that said "KEYBOARD & STRINGS FACULTY UPSTAIRS", and bounded up the stairs.

"That way." Jasper pointed to my right.

"How ...?" I wondered.

"Piano faculty." Jasper poitned to the placque on the wall, and then to the left where he read "Strings & Organ faculty."

I smiled gratefully at him, and then walked down the hallway, quickly reading the placques where the names of the professers was emblazoned onto the doors. "Marcus Atzinger, DMA." I read just as the door opened.

"Have a good day." I looked up to the man in the doorway, holdin gthe door open for his student, who strode out of his studio.

"You too, Dr. Atzinger. Thanks." The student smiled at him.

"No problem, Chelsea." Dr. Atzinger turned towards Jasper and I, and asked, "Hi. Are you Isabella Swan?"

I nodded. "Bella, please."

"Hi. And you are...?" Dr. Atzinger directed towards Jasper.

"Jasper. Jasper Whitlock, sir. I'm a friend of Bella's." Jasper answered.

"Ah. Nice to meet you both. Come in, please." Dr. Atzinger said.

"Thank you. It's nice to be here." I responded.

Dr. Atzinger nodded. "Well, your Mom sent me quite a detailed resume of your musical history Bella, and I have to say, I'm quite impressed. Why move from New York City to little town Northfield?"

I shrugged. "Got tired of my surroundings."

"Wow. Tired of NYC?" Dr. Atzinger teased.

His tone transported me back to my past, where I bristled and bent my head, taking in deep breaths, trying to repress the oncoming anxiety attack. Anything to keep it from happening in front of my new piano teacher, much less Jasper.

"You have no idea." I stuttered.

"Sorry." He said, his teasing tone gone.

My head jerked up. "What?" I was stunned. Why would he apologize?

"I wandered into private areas. Areas, you clearly, would prefer not to delve into." He explained. "Now. Jasper, you can get comfortable on the couch, or go do your own thing. We'll be done at 5." Jasper nodded, and Dr. Atzinger turned back towards me. "Okay, Bella. Explain to me your musical history, from your perspective. Since your Mom is your manager, and she's your Mom, she sounds really biased in my opinion. Bias I do not appreciate. Honesty, I do. Tell me everything."

I took a deep breath and told him my story of how my Mom pushed me into music, and forced the love on me. Now I grew to love it myself, and wanted to continue my education. "I don't just want to know how to compete and win. I want to know how to play anything I put before my eyes." I explained, passion seeping into my voice. "I want to feel like I'm actually a pianist, not some competitor. Those titles mean nothing to me. I don't feel like I even earned them - my Mom did. She wanted them more than I did."

Dr. Atzinger interrupted me. "I just want to say, Bella. Declining that world title 16 months ago took guts. My colleague next door, Dr. Demetrius, went up in an uproar for a whole year when you declined it. He still hasn't gotten over it, I don't think. But I appreciate you speaking your mind, and doing what you want to do in the musical world. In the musical world, you'll make it. Because YOU want to succeed, not because your Mom wants you to succeed."

I nodded, and brushed off his compliments. "Thank you, Dr."

"You're welcome. Now, I've seen your playing before quite extensively, and heard a lot about you from Igor Palamarchuk, so I want you to explain to me what you want to learn. I can teach you anything you want, but I need to know your style in order to teach you properly." Dr. Atzinger said, pulling out his notebook.

"I like music that gets my heart. I want music that I can relate to. So that's a lot of darker music. I love Beethoven and Chopin, specifically. I love to play Debussey as well, his music is calming. I love Bach, he's my favorite composer. Bach is the one who keeps me going on the hard days." I thought of various composers that I've played, and then clamped my mouth shut, realizing that I had mentioend everyone who I appreciate.

Dr. Atzinger nodded, jotting down notes. "Good. I want to see your sightreading abilities, as that part of competitions never seem to be recorded. When was the last you played piano today?"

"My last period in school si a piano composition class, so about 45 minutes ago." I answered.

Dr. Atzinger looked from his bookshelf of music. "Here? at the local high school?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, with my good friend Dr. Volturi. He'll be good for you. He always knows how to stretch any pianist who comes his way." Dr. Atzinger turned back to his bookshelf.

"Yeah, he made a good impression." I said. "Excuse me, yes."

Dr. Atzinger laughed, waving off my apology. "I'm a college professor, you should hear some of the language I hear in these hallways."

I smiled, slightly embarrassed.

"Okay, have you ever played Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No2 Op18?" Dr. Atzinger asked me.

"No. Ms. Fedorova wanted me to, but I quit her before she could teach me it." I responded.

"Oh my sympathies for working with Anna. She's awful." Dr. Atzinger said, cringing as though memories washed over him like a dirty, food covered rag.

I nodded, and looked at the music.

"Okay, you know the rules to sightreading." Dr. Atzinger said, sitting back on a chair behind me. "Two pages, please."

I sat straighter, aware of both Jasper and Dr. Atzinger in the room, and stared at the score of music in front of me. I cringed mentally realizing that there was music for both the piano and the whole orchestra on the score, which made my sightreading slightly more difficult. I took in various aspects of the music, such as key signature, the time, the suggested tempo, and began counting the rhythm. After a couple minutes, I began to play the score, incorperating parts of the orchestra melodies and harmonies into what I was playing. After playing the two pages, I stopped. I rested my hands on my lap, and inconspicuously stretched out my wrists.

"Something wrong with your wrists?" Dr. Atzinger asked, taking notice right away.

I swallowed. "I developed carpal tunnel in both wrists due to Sara Chapenski two years ago. It was corrected 9 months ago, and I've been in therapy since. I've been deemd OK to play my instruments, as long as I correct my habits."

Dr. Atzinger cringed and said, "Hold out your wrists."

I did so, the sleeves of my sweater falling back, and I saw the ugly scars left on my arms and tears bit my eyes. I looked away as he inwardly took a deep breath, and then began to probe and poke at my wrists. "You have a lot of damage, but I think that if you continue your stretches, and you develop correct habits, we'll be golden."

I nodded, and took back my wrists, rubbing at them gently, and biting my lip as the memories tried to break free of the iron grasp I held them in.

"Now, about your sightreading." Dr. Atzinger changed the topic, "It was phenomenal! I've NEVER seen any of my students play a piece of such difficulty, so well. You managed to keep everything in the piano, and yet still incorperate the rest of the orchestra as well. Very, very well done. I was very surprised you still went for the articulation, and even included the articulations from the violin. I loved your take on it. It was beautiful."

Jasper nodded and added softly, "You did amazing."

I smiled slightly. "Thanks."

-after the lesson-

"Thanks for a great lesson, Dr. Atzinger." I said as I left his studio with Jasper in front of me.

"You're welcome, Bella. Looking forward to seeing you next week. Have a good one!" He said.

I gave him a smile, and walked down the hallway with Jasper at my side. "You enjoy the lesson?" I asked Jasper.

He nodded. "Yeah. It was really good. You're amazing in person, Bella."

"Thanks. You ready to eat?" I asked, my stomach grumbling.

"Yeah, my Mom has dinner cooking.. she said to invite you." Jasper said, looking at his phone.

"Oh. Um. Well, I have to check with Dad first." I stuttered, nervous.

"Okay. Lets stop by at your place first then?" Jasper offered.

"Okay, yeah. I need to get groceries anyways." I agreed.

"Where do you live?" Jasper asked.

"The golf course." I said.

"Whoa, rich half of town." Jasper exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes. "How about you?" I returned the question.

Jasper grinned. "I'm down the street from you."

"Oh, nad you said I lived in the rich half of town!" I protested.

Jasper laughed, "never said I didn't."

"Wow. You joker." I teased.

Jasper grinned as I turned my focus back to driving. I mentally chastised myself, reminding myself that I was not supposed to be trusting anyone. Period. Because then I'd get hurt.

As I pulled into my driveway, I could tell that Dad wasn't home by the fact that his cruiser wasn't parked in the driveway. "Dad's not home, so let me write him a note, and I'll walk over to your place." I said, turning off the car.

"Okay. I'll wait for you." Jasper responded, getting out of the car.

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You're waiting for me?"

"Mhmm." He pulled out his phone and leaned against my car. "You go do your stuff, and I'll text my Mom telling her we're both coming for dinner."

I sighed and turned to go inside, when a memory flashed out at me. I promptly squashed it down, and turned to face Jasper. "Jasper?" I called.

"Yeah. What?"

"Can you come inside and wait there?" My voice was softer.

"Yeah. Sure." He said, grabbing his backpack and striding towards me. "No problem." He gave me an encouraging smile, and I felt almost as if Jasper could sense my trepidation of being alone at home.

"Still getting used to your new home?" He asked as we walked in through the mudroom, and into the hallway that led to the state-of-the-art kitchen.

"Yeah. It's really big, and only my Dad and I live here." I explained. "I'm going to go upstairs and drop my bag off. Help yourself to drinks in the kitchen." I sprinted up the stairs and walked into my bedroom, dropping my backpack on my desk, and putting my piano books on the piano. My phone chimed with a notification, and I checked who was trying to contact me. I had several FaceBook friend requests, but my eye was drawn straight to the email that my Mom had sent.

Isabella,

I hope you've settled into a routine at your new home in Northfield. It still astounds me every day that you would rather be in a small, dinky town like Northfield with teachers who haven't earned any kind of respect like Dr. Dwyer has.

I snorted as I read that, and rolled my eyes. My Mom was delusional when it came to Phil Dwyer. I continued reading.

I've heard back from Dr. Atzinger. He is very impressed with your prestige that Dr. Dwyer has taught you. I can tell. He has expressed to me the need for a rehabilitation of habits that were instilled by past teachers. I hope you didn't lie about Dr. Dwyer like you always do to other teachers.

I have been contacted by several performing artists who would like you to start to open up for you. I sent The Band Perry, Katy Perry, and Beyonce videos of you playing the guitar and singing, as well as your violin talents in the pop world. God knows you have none, but they seem to think so. Katy Perry would like you to open up for her on her tour. The dates will be October 18 of this year, until November 29 of next year. This is a world tour, and I fully expect to be traveling with you the entire time. Do not fight me about this, Isabella. You will go.

Renee Mitchell

Everything You Have Ever Wanted To Be

I glared at the email, and wanted to delete it, but I knew that I would need it later on to show to Charlie. I forwarded it to Charlie's email address, and decided to get changed for dinner.

I changed into a purple argyle sweater with shades of purple and pink made a plaid pattern on front of my torso, and dark denim, skinny jeans, I looked at myself in the mirror. I released the french braid that I had wove my hair into at Stats, and shook my hair out. I didn't feel the impression to wear makeup, so I gave a smile to the girl in the mirror, and nodded in approval.

Grabbing a pair of toms, I walked out of my room and down the stairs where I could see Jasper sitting at the dining table. "I'm ready." I said, my voice soft.

Jasper looked up at me, and took in my appearance. He looked shocked as he stood, and came over to me. "Wow. You look great." His voice was gravelly, unlike his usual smooth tones.

"Thanks." I flipped my hair around, trying to get my roots to stop stinging in pain.

"Something wrong?" Jasper asked.

I shook my head, running my hands through my hair. "No. Just trying to get my hair right."

"It's perfect." Jasper reassured me.

I smiled slightly, and went to set the alarm. "Ready?" I called.

"Yep." Jasper scared me by standing behind me, rather than back in the hallway.

"Good." I squeaked.

As we left my home and began walking to his place, he began to tell me of his family. "My Dad is home. He'll be here. So is my step-Mom who really is more of a Mom to me than my biological Mom, so I call her Mom, whereas my biological is mother. Mom has twins from a previous marriage, Rosalie and Peter. They're both 16."

I nodded, trying to quell my nerves.

"Don't be nervous." Jasper said. I looked at him, and I could see a desire to hug me and take my nerves away, but I knew he respected my boundaries of physical contact.

"Thanks." I said, truly appreciative of his friendship and respect.

Jasper smiled, and nodded. "I think you will like Rose."

I mentally snorted. I hated to be around with other girls. They tore you apart like tonights steak dinner, and expected you to kiss their butts afterwards.

"She's the first violinist in the honors orchestra." Jasper continued. "A lot of people think we're twins since we look so similar."

"Is she tall like you?" I asked, just to keep the conversation going.

Jasper laughed. "I'm 6'5". She's 5'11". Peter is 6' even. Dad is 6'7", and Mom is 5'5". Rose and Peter's biological Dad was 6'9"."

"Was?" I took notice of his word usage.

"He was killed in the line of duty in Iraq." Jasper's voice was low with a tone of response.

"I'm sorry..." I said softly.

"No worries. You didn't know." Jasper smiled as we turned into his driveway.

"Your home is beautiful." I observed.

"Mom is an interior designer. She loves to work with architecture and has really turned this house into a beautiful home." Jasper explained as we walked up to the front door. He opened it for me, and said, "after you."

I smiled, and entered the house. Taking in the foyer of the large home, I was surprised to see the pictures of a happy family all over the living room. I saw pictures of stunning, drop dead gorgeous blonde teenager, with honey blonde hair, impeccable taste in fashion, and like Jasper said, a height that seemed to dwarf her mother.

"Jasper? Is that you?" I heard a motherly tone with a hint of underlying worry, and saw a woman not much taller than me walk into the foyer. She had a caramel colored hair, with natural blonde highlights, and striking ice blue eyes. Her lips were that of a natural shade of rosehip, her eyebrows perfectly plucked, and her complexion clear as the cleanest glass.

"Yes, Mom. I'm home. I brought Bella with me." Jasper reassured his mom, giving her a hug.

"I'm so happy you're home, Jasper James." She gave him a tight hug, and I smiled at the display of affection. I closed my eyes, and wished away all thoughts that reminded me of my own mother.

"I'm happy to be home, Mom. This is Bella Swan, the daughter of the Chief of Police. She lives down on Turnberry Court." Jasper introduced me to his Mom. "This is my Mom, Tanya Whitlock, Bella."

"Hi Bella. Call me Tanya, please." Tanya came over and gave me a hug. I stiffened at the contact.

"Hi Mrs. Whitlock." I murmured, wrapping my arms around her, awkwardly patting her back.

"Please, Tanya is fine." Tanya protested.

"My Mom instilled habits in me that I cannot break. One of which is to never call an adult by their first name." I held firm.

"Very well. But I will get you to call me Tanya." She gave me a wink and then continued speaking, "Rosa and I have just finished dinner, so you're in time." She wound her arm through mine, and led me into the kitchen. "Peter! Garrett!" She called upstairs.

"Thank you for inviting me to dinner, Mrs. Whitlock." I thanked her.

She waved it off. "Nonsense. You are welcome for every dinner if you can make it. And your Father is single, so bring him over too. I have a single sister that I can match him up with."

I was speechless. Tanya seemed to have no filter. Jasper walked in, wearing khaki shorts, and a golf tee. "Oh Mom, stop with the matchmaking." Jasper protested. "You ran off Rose's boyfriend last year because of you trying to matchmake his brother with Aunt Esme!"

Tanya waved it off as she served a Mexican looking lasagna on the table. "Peter! Come on down here!" She shouted up the stairs. "You're going to miss out on lasagna!"

An older version of Jasper walked into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around Tanya. "You outdid yourself again, Tanya." He whispered something into her ear, and I saw her blush scarlet.

She swatted him towards his chair, but I could see the adoring look she had in her face, an expression that never graced my own mother's face.

The tall blonde that could only be Rosalie walked into the dining room. "Hi Jasper." She greeted. Her voice was melodic, a timber that I had never heard before. "I'm Rosalie." She put her hand to me.

She definitely had her mother's ice blue eyes, but there was a reserved warmth that was absent from her mother's eyes. Mrs. Whitlock had an affectionate-like emotion that was present in her eyes. Rosalie seemed much more reserved and quiet.

"Bella." I shook Rosalie's hand.

"Michael, this is your last warning!" Tanya shouted.

"I'm coming... sorry. I was in the shower." A deep voice resonated down the stairs.

"Just plan better next time." Tanya offered some advice.

"Yeah, we don't want to starve." Jasper joked as he helped me into the seat next to his.

Mike rolled his eyes. "I'm Mike, the baby of the family." Mike sat down across from me, and grinned.

"This is Bella." Jasper said, as I sipped from my glass of water.

"Nice to meet you, Bella. I'm Garrett, the father of these bozos I call my children." Mr. Whitlock teased.

"Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Whitlock. Thank you again for having me over for dinner." I said.

"No problem, Bella." Mr. Whitlock said. "And please, call me Garrett."

Mrs. Whitlock sat down at the foot of the table after putting down a salad bowl, and a pitcher of lemonade. "I hope you aren't vegetarian, Bella." Mrs. Whitlock apologized, as though I looked disdainfully at the lasagna.

"Oh no, Mrs. Whitlock." I reassured her. "I didn't get to the top of the food chain to eat plants."

Mike guffawed. "I like you, Bella!"

I grinned as Mr. Whitlock asked me, "So Bella, I've seen you perform before, and you are quite the exquisite performer. What brought you to your love of music?"

The grin fell off my face. "My Mom introduced to piano when I was 2, violin when I was 4, cello when I was 5. Mom moved me to Moscow and got the top dog pianists to teach me. I started competing when I was 9, and since then, that's my life."

"Hey, Bella. Have you ever found deep heat in your underwear?" Mike asked me.

I gaped at him. "Uhh... no?"

Mike glared at Jasper. "Well, the other day, I was showering. Jasper adn I share a bathroom, it connects our bedrooms. This day also happened to be the day I forgot to lock the bathroom door, because Jasper walked in when I was showering. I thought he was shaving, but turns out he was rubbing Deep Heat into my boxers."

Jasper started to crack up, as did Rosa and Mrs. Whitlock, while Mr. Whitlock and I listened, completely enraptured by Mike's dramatic storytelling.

"When I put on my boxers..." Mike started,

"Good to know you don't go commando." Mrs. Whitlock interrupted.

Mr. Whitlock and Rosa snickered, while Jasper was roaring

Mike blushed. "MOM. That was ONE time!"

Mrs. Whitlock shrugged, and Mike continued on with his story. "When I put on my boxers, instantaneously there is this fire that just burns my body. It goes everywhere. I was in such pain, I jumped back in the shower, shouting that Jasper would get it."

I snickered. "I'm glad I don't have any siblings. Never was subjected to such terrors."

"Bella, your accent is different. Where does it originate?" Mrs. Whitlock asked, changing the topic.

"I'm was born here in Northfield, but moved to Pheonix shortly afterwards, often flying to LA and Hollywood and NYC, and then moved to Moscow, lived there for 3 years, and then spent 2 in Paris, and last 3 in NYC." I answered.

"Wow. You've traveled abroad." Rosa said. "How was Paris?"

"Nothing special." I shrugged. "I didn't get to see much of it. I spent all of my time playing piano, cello or violin. I was either in lessons, practicing, or competing."

My HTC rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket. It was Charlie. "Excuse me." I said, getting up and walking to the front porch, sitting down on the steps. "Hi Dad." I answered.

"Hi Bells. You visiting the Whitlocks?" Dad asked, beating right to the punch.

"Yes. Jasper is in all of my classes, and wanted to go to piano lessons with me. So I let him. Then his Mom invited me to supper. I'll be home soon." I told him.

"Sounds good. How'd piano go?" He asked.

"Amazing. I love Dr. Atzinger. He's great." I said, happy he avoided the topic of my Mom.

"That's great. I'll let you go spend time with the Whitlocks. I like that family, Bells. They're good people." Charlie mentioned.

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, Dad. Thanks. I'll be home in an hour maximum."

"Sounds good. Love you, Bells."

"Love you, too." I muttered, and slid the phone back into my back pocket. I leaned my head into my hands, and sighed. When would my Mom realize I wanted to be a normal teenager, and not a performing artist? Didn't she steal enough of my life already?

"You doing alright, Bella?" Rosalie asked, sitting down next to me.

I looked at her wearily. "Yes. I'm fine." I sighed.

She nodded. "You know, I hate your Mom."

I stared at her, my left eyebrow perfectly arched, waiting for her to explain.

"You're real. You're authentic. Genuine. You want life at it's best, not life's best for you. Your Mom has always portrayed a self-centred attitude. Even in acting." Rosalie explained. "Sure, she's beautiful. Gorgeous even, but her attitude is revolting. I commend you for keeping pure despite her trying to ruin you."

I looked up at her surprised.

"I'm not blind, Bella. I can see that you've been scarred terribly by your Mom. No parent, in their right mind, would force their girl to study piano at the ripe young age of 2. Period."

"Except mine, right?" I muttered.

Rosa hugged me, and for the first time in my entire life, I didn't stiffen at the contact. "Thanks Rosa."

"No problem, Bella. I want to be your friend."

I smiled slightly. "I'm an awful friend."

"I don't believe you. You've never had a friend like me. By the way, Jasper's sister is coming here to start High School next weekend. Her name is Alice, and she's my age. Would you like to come over and meet her?" Rosa offered.

I shrugged. "Sure. Just send me the details."

"Hand me your phone." Rosa commanded, taking my HTC out of my hands, and punching her name, number and email into a contact. "Here. Call me anytime. I'll listen."

"Thanks." I smiled at her.

"No problem. We're friends." Rosa told me. We walked into the house, arms around each other. I knew I had found a second family. Now to learn to trust them.

Memories that won't stop stinging

Promises I can't believe in

...

I don't know how to forgive myself for everything

But I must learn to trust

Trust by Christina Perri

Author's Note: Not sure exactly what I'm doing here, except that I've got to get this story done! :) Reviews, favs & follows greatly appreciated. (2/24) If you remember, the original name of Mrs. Whitlock was Maria, but I changed it to Tanya for the intents and purposes of future chapters. Sorry I didn't think that one out too well.