Hi guys, this is my first fanfic so I would love some feedback, whether or not it's positive I can only hope but as long as it helps I don't mind criticism.
I hope you enjoy, thank you!
Disclaimer: I do not own twilight or any of the characters!
"Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's a Montague? It is nor hand nor foot, Nor arm nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man…"
I tune out as Miss. Gardener reads Romeo and Juliette to the class. Everything becomes background noise as I retreat into my head. I've already read the famous Shakespearian romantic tragedy, a few times actually. When I was younger, before I read it, I thought the whole plot was quite stupid. The idea of falling in love over the course of a few days, a love so strong you would die for that person, to me was silly and dramatic. So, it was much to my chagrin when, in sixth grade, it was on the reading list and my dad made me read it.
Much to my surprise and annoyance, I loved it. Don't get me wrong, there are so many things I found problematic about it. Like the whiplash I got as Romeo's infatuation moving from Rosaline to Juliette and the overreactions that led to almost everyone's death. However, I loved the way there love was described, the depth of the feeling, it permanently converted me and since then I have been a hopeless romantic.
It took a while but I've read so many romances that I would hope I can tell what feels real. It's not the kind of obsessive, lust induced romances in a lot books were they meet in the first chapter and rip each others clothes off in the second. I don't think that's love. Love is when you know the person better that you know yourself; when you are always aware of them and what they are doing, what they are thinking; when you smile when they enter a room; it's the little things, like holding open a door, holding their hand or pulling out their chair.
Unfortunately, I think I'm destine for an unrequited love. That's a bit dramatic, it's more a crush than love, but it's there and it's unreciprocated. It doesn't bother me too much, I am proud to say I am an strong, independent young woman. I'm not too hung up about it and I don't throw myself at him, though it would be nice to at least be noticed.
I realise that while thinking about him my eyes have wondered over to the seat he should be in on other side of the classroom. While my seat is in the back corner by the window his is closest to the door. I figure that says something about us and how different we are. Luckily for me he's not in today or someone might have seen me looking into space and thought I was staring at him, though I guess I could have said I was longingly staring out the door waiting for the bell.
Glancing around to subtly check if anyone noticed that I had spaced out and stopped paying attention I am met with only an empty classroom. Hm, weird. Looking at the clock I see the bell must have gone about five minutes ago. I was probably lost in my head again, that happens sometime, I get lost in my thoughts and don't notice anything around me.
In a bit of a daze, I pack my bag and leave the classroom to matching empty halls. At my locker I sort out the rest of my books and close it, leaving it full of neatly stacked book. I leave the school starting my small trek home.
My thoughts travel back to Jared Cameron, and his empty chair in English. He's been out of school for about two weeks now and everyone's talking about it they are saying he has mono, but I don't know, I'm not convinced. No one has heard from him since he didn't turn up for school, not even his friends and then the same thing happened to Paul Lahote a week later. And no, I am not stalking him people just talk very freely around you when you are invisible, so I hear things.
I have known Jared since we were three and he moved in next door. His parents are the sweetest, kindest people I have ever known and came around with an apple pie to say hi when they moved in, and it was delicious. That's when I met Jared for the first time and we spent half an hour colouring together. After that we spent almost all are free time together and Jared's mum ended up looking after me all day while my parents worked. We were best friends. That is until we started 1st grade, 3 years of being best friend out the window because girls had cooties. It sucked because as I retreated into myself and developed into the shy friendless person I am now, Jared was coming out of his shell and becoming a popular cool kid. So, in 6th grade when it was ok to hang out with girls again we didn't rekindle the friendship, I was too shy to reach out and he couldn't be seen with me even if he wanted to.
I think it was worse for me because he was the one that stopped hanging out with me and I was left with no friends and a crush on an asshole. Except his not an asshole, he really is very nice he just cares too much about fitting in.
Reaching my house I unlocked the door and made my way to the kitchen to grab a snack.
The house is modern, or as modern as you get in La Push. Which means shining marble counters in the kitchen and well-kept white walls with nice wooden floors throughout the down stairs. The kitchen and dining room are separated by only an arch, although the dining room is never used as my parents are never home for family meals and I just eat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. The siting room has a flat screen tv and a leather sofa and arm chair, there's a nice fur rug in the middle of the room and a side table between the sofa and armchair with a fancy lamp on it. The other rooms down stairs are the toilet which is all shinny and smells of bleach; and my parents study, but I'm not allowed in there. Upstairs there are three bedrooms each with an ensuite bathroom, mine, my parents and a guest room.
Entering my bedroom, I drop my bag on my desk and kick my shoes off towards the draws next to it. Walking past the old trunk, given to me by my gran before she died, I flop onto by bed with a dramatic sigh. As I lie there knowing I should get up and do something, but finding myself to tired after an exhausting week of school, I look around my room. The only things out of place are my bag and shoes, which I'm sure I will put away later, and though I've now ruined it, my bed was spotlessly made. All the furniture matches, the desk, the draws, the bookshelf. My parents designed it for me when I was 12 but it was to neat and clean and perfect, it didn't feel like my room. So I painted everything, well not everything, but everything my parents let me. From my bed I can see where I started, at the tentative age of 12. I painted a forest on the side of my bookcase. At the time I was so proud of myself, though it wasn't very good. Since then I have run with the theme of the forest that I see everyday outside my house and it now covers every piece of furniture you can see. My parents drew the line at painting my walls but they caved when I asked about the door frames and there are now vines wrapped around the doors to leave my room and to enter my wardrobe and bathroom. I love my room, the reds and the browns of my bed covers work well and the face that the furniture is wood helps to, it feels very me.
Turning over and sitting up I take a minute to look out the one window in my room, a big window running along the side of my bed. This window, as fate would have it, looks straight into the window of one crush, Jared Cameron. When we were younger it was great, we used to right each other notes and tape them to our windows, but now its just awkward and I have mastered the art of avoiding looking into his room.
With a heave I get of my bed and grab my phone, connecting it to my speakers and put my playlist of shuffle. 'She will be loved' by Maroon 5 comes on and since it's Friday I can hold off on doing my homework until tomorrow. I decide to work on my lates painting. My parents aren't huge believes in the arts and only tolerate my painting if my other grades don't suffer and with the promise that it will round out my collage application. Unfortunately, this means I have keep most of my art in my room and work on it when they're not home. The not home problem isn't really a problem because of how much they work, it's the keeping my art in my room. Learning to not get paint everywhere was an art in and of itself. Obviously there are the bigger pieces or things I can't do in my room, like spray painting, so those I will do in the garage and if they come up then I lean heavily on the fact that they are for my school art class.
Humming along to the music I retrieve my old, paint splattered jeans and hoodie from my cupboard and make my way into my bathroom to get changed. After changing and putting my hair in a ponytail I examined myself in the mirror. I don't think I'm ugly exactly, I have the trade mark Quileute dark skin, my hair is black and very straight, falling to half way down my back when its brushed out. My brown eyes are just slightly to big, my lips are slightly uneven with a bigger lower lip than upper and my nose is broader than I would like. My favourite feature is my eye lashes, there long and thick and the only part of my face I am completely happy with. I stand at 5'7" and am blessed with an hourglass figure and high metabolism because otherwise with all the shit I eat, I would look like an obese cow. If I were asked to describe myself in one word it would have to be average. I Kim Connweller am average.
Putting that thought aside I step out of the bathroom and start getting all my painting supply's out of my cupboard singing along to the music which has now changed to 'girl on fire' by Alicia Keys. The last thing I got out was my easel and canvas. I set it up in my usual spot at the end of my bed and sit on the quilt on my old trunk. After a lot of trial and error I have found this is where the light is best in my room.
Sitting down I take a minute to stare at my canvas and get back into my painting mind set. I am painting mother nature depicted as a woman in the woods sat by a steam. She is surrounded by different animals including a bear, a wolf and a doe. I have spent two weeks sketching and today I am final ready to start painting the background.
Sat painting I am content in my little heaven, with my art and my music.