I don't own Twilight, nor do I own anything publically recognized. BTW, I made up a map of the La Push in this story, and the way I was drawing it (using little snippets of information from the story), it looked like chicken scratch! Seriously! There's black marker everywhere, some white out, arrows pointing this way and that, and . . . oh Lord, its friggin chicken scratch.

"Life is an ugly, awful place not to have a best friend" –Sarah Dessen

Braison's POV

"How's life been, Braison?" asked River as we dangled our feet over the Rossland Bridge about fifteen feet above the Pacific River that ran into First Beach and out into the ocean.

I finished picking apart a piece of crab grass, and threw the little pieces in the water. "Not bad, I suppose." It felt kind of weird talking to people, considering I didn't really do it, unless it was to argue or to tell them to get lost.

For the next ten minutes, River asked a bunch of other questions about my time in Colorado and tried to get more than a five word answer. I think the longest answer I gave him was "It's not that different from La Push, really."

Finally, River gave up, and just sat there in silence. Well, it was silent until a little annoying voice popped into my ears. "Do something, you idiot!"

Brayton and I had parted ways between Ephraim Drive and La Push Road, saying that he wanted to go see his grave site. I gave him a faint nod, before continuing on down the little dirt road towards Rossland Bridge with River.

"Ask him how he's been." I was about to open my mouth, when he added threateningly, "And if you give him one more five word answer, so help me God, I'll throw you from this bridge."

Ignoring him, I grabbed another piece of crab grass that was growing between the cracks in the old bridge. "How have you been, River?"

He seemed surprised that I actually asked him a question. "Boring, actually." He nudged me with his hip and smiled. "No you and Brayton to liven up class. It's only been Jazlynne, Drew, Luke, Mason and I, and God only knows they only followed our lead. I managed to make Mason and Luke my substitute Braison and Brayton, but it's not the same, you know?" I nodded, throwing the little pieces of grass into the rushing river.

Brayton scoffed "Mason and Luke? Replace me and you? No way." He ruffled up his floppy hair. "They don't have the good looks."

I grinned his way, nodding slightly.

"Talk to him, dammit!" Brayton yelled, slamming his hand against the bridge. "Reunite with him, Braison! Don't be so effing anti-friggin'-social!"

This little "act of encouragement" (as he called it this morning; Pfff, yeah right. More like act of attempted murder of one's sanity) was really getting on my nerves. "And your sisters?"

"Good, really good. Maula and Brinley got into the same college down in Tennessee. Santos got her learner's permit." He leaned in closer to me. "And by the way, if I were you, I'd stay off the roads from 10:00 am until 5:00 pm."

"Why?"

"Because that's the only time she's aloud out driving, and the roads have gotten extremely dangerous since the tenth of May." I laughed loudly, the first real laugh I've had in a long time. It felt good, really good. River grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "Braison, the girl didn't have her license for five hours and she rammed into someone in the parking lot of a gas station in Forks!" (A/N one of my cousins actually did this! She gave a fender bender to a parked car in the Wal-Mart parking lot five hours after she got her license. Lol, right? ) All three of us laughed at this, a long, throaty laugh.

"Are you joking?" I laughed.

Between his cackles, River managed to say, "I'm serious!"

We finally calmed down, and went back to picking grass apart and letting it fall gently into the water below.

"Hey, let's go tell the gang you're back!" exclaimed River, hauling himself out from under the wooden railings and standing up, brushing the dirt off his pants.

I hesitated.

"Get your lazy ass up, Braison! Go with River to meet up with them!" my twin encouraged.

Groaning, I pulled my legs from under the railing and stood up with River, walking across the bridge, our footsteps making loud thumps on the aged wood.

"I can't believe you're finally back!" said Jazlynne for the fifth time since we sat down.

I smiled at her, biting into my chicken sandwich, one of many prepared for us by Teena Powell, Jazlynne's mother. We were sitting on the grass in Jazlynne's backyard, eating chicken sandwiches and chocolate cake while drinking cans upon cans of Diet Coke and Sprite.

I had always like Jazlynne's house. It wasn't in La Push, but on the highway a hundred meters away from the entrance to La Push. You had to talk into some kind of microphone at the gate to ask permission to get in, and when you crossed the threshold, you were in a whole other world. Outside the gates, it's loud, smelly, and a little dangerous; but when you're inside, it's beautiful. A paved road lined with trees led to the elegant, three storey house in the middle of the property, with a fountain out front and a four car garage attached to the left side of the house. In the back of the house there's a large pool with a fence blocking it out from the rest of the world, a roofed patio you have to walk through to get to the pool, and way out back (so far out back that you couldn't see them from the main house) were four sheds, filled with different supplies for tending the house, and two barn sized houses where the help (maids and gardeners) lived. Inside, the house looked like a castle: a grand marble staircase led upstairs, spacious rooms, and elegant furniture that, according to Jazlynne, had been there since the house as built back in 1936 and they had to get polished and cleaned every ten years. A seven foot tall stone wall ran around the land, boxing everything in.

But my favourite part the property had always been the large backyard it had. Between the house and the sheds, there were more than ten football fields of cleared out, grassy land just begging to be rolled around on. There was this huge oak tree that Jazlynne's grandfather had planted with his dad (Jazlynne's great-grandfather) when he was only five, making it over eighty-five years old. We used to hang tire swings from the lowest branch (six feet from the ground) and take turns swinging on it, or we'd play this game, where we had to tie a rope to that same branch and hang onto it as long as we could while the other ones pushed us; the one who hung on the longest won (Luke usually let go first, and Brayton normally won. Though Mason won once, and I did twice, I think).

There were some pretty fun memories made in this yard. Tears sprang to my eyes as I looked over at my twin brother, who was watching Drew and Luke fight over the last chicken sandwich and laughing at them. I would never make more memories with Brayton here, because he was gone forever. Sure, he was tangible, but only to be. No one else could see him, not Mason or Jazlynne, or Luke, Drew or River, nor anyone else. A single tear leaked from my eye, and I quickly wiped it away, but Brayton had seen.

With a sympathetic face, Brayton got up and sat beside me, saying, "Tell them you're gonna go take a whiz in the woods."

I got up off the grass, and turned to leave, yelling behind me, "I've gotta take a whiz, be back in a minute."

"Run," declared Brayton.

I did.

Oh, did I ever run. My legs moved faster than I ever realized possible, and slowed down when I hit the boundaries of the forest. I turned left so that I wouldn't be going towards the sheds and the barns, but towards the fence.

Voices echoed in my head.

"Hey, twins, come here!" obviously River.

"Don't eat that!" a younger Drew.

"Ha-ha, I won, and you didn't!" Brayton's happy chant when he won at the rope game.

"Race ya!" this voice could have been mine or Luke's.

The echoes got jumbled together, until I could no longer distinguish who owned which voice.

"Let's play road hockey!"

I collapsed.

"Tag, you're it!"

Tried to get up, but couldn't

". . . Nine . . . ten! Ready or not, here I come!"

Fell back down again.

"Let me off this thing!"

Curled up into a ball.

"What'd you get for Christmas?"

Shutting my eyes tightly.

"Braison, you okay?" Not a memory.

Tears leaking from my eye lids.

"Trick or treat!"

Being lifted off of the ground.

"Come find us, Jazlynne!"

More tears leaking from my eyes.

"Wanna come over my house?"

A hard pinch to my side.

"Wanna go swimming?"

My torso being shaked

"We're going to Forks – wanna come?"

Being shaked more violently, then "Braison!"

"Are you, ready.*clap, clap, clap* For concentration.*clap, clap, clap* Not repeats. *clap, clap, clap* Or hesitation."

Getting lightheaded.

"Ring around the rosy, a pocket pull of posies, ashes ashes, we all fall down!"

Dark sports appearing in my vision.

"I got 100 on my spelling test!"

Then, there was nothing. My vision went completely black, and I was floating for a few minutes, until I finally blacked out.

Hope you like it, if you didn't, that's okay. Sorry if it isn't that good, but I started writing I at 3:27 am and finished it at 4:31 am, and I get really . . . weird when I'm up that late. I start to laugh, and talk to myself and (shivers) its horrible! Oh my God, it's so horrible! I was smiling, then started laughing loudly, patting my cat, then started to talking to it, telling it to take over the world with my dog. Yeah. That ccccrrraaazzzyyyy!