Author's note: Okay... so... I lied. =] This is the last chapter for a while. Thanks to all the positive reviews (thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!) I decided to put this one up before I leave... and I really hope you aren't disappointed with it. I really hope you like it... and who ever is going to the midnight premiere of Twilight (I know I am =]) have an AMAZING time!!!! I hope everyone also has a great Thanksgiving!! I'll have more soon, I promise. And also, tell me what you think of Ava's song!! Is it right? I would really appreciate some feedback on that... and the chapter!! I am so thankful that I have reviewers... thank you so much!!!
Love,
Mel.
Ava's song: Love Save the Empty by Erin McCarley
7. The Forest
The week had been going by so slow. The days after the Ronan and his family left, I had no reason to be hopeful anymore, but I couldn't let my sadness show. I kept my mood happy when I was with anyone from the lunch table, and I learned all of their names along with that. Life was good. I just had to keep reminding myself that while I forgot Ronan and the Swan-Masons. It was the only way to go on in Forks. I would instead focus on making friends at the lunch table.
Luckily, everyone was extremely nice there. Once I learned names and faces, I began sitting with them in my classes as well. Everything was pretty much going well for once, and I felt like I was going to survive junior year. Everything was good. Everything was okay…
But, everything was not okay. The unanswered question about Edward knowing my nickname still assaulted my mind. I was still stumped when I configured all the possibilities of him knowing it. I kept reminding myself that I was being over bearing and paranoid, but for some reason, an instinct told me it wasn't right. My Grandpop was the only person to ever call me Avs. It was like someone you've just met coming up to you and calling you the nickname your best friend from kindergarten that you haven't talked to in years made up for you years ago. It just didn't sit well.
Along with this, there was still a conglomeration of haunting dreams that visited my sleep at least once and if not more every night. Usually I'd be revisited by the one with Renesmee, and sometimes I was with Edward or Ronan. They were generally the same, but I would notice something different in each dream. Like, for instance, sometimes I would be in the U.S. History room with Edward and we'd see the black cloaks coming toward us through the window, and he would run away with out me, leaving me stumbling over the rows of desks as the cloaks pursued me. Other times I would be in the cafeteria with Ronan and he'd cradle me in his arms as he ran faster than a shuttle taking off, but we'd always be caught in the end. But there was something even more haunting about this dream.
I would be ripped away from Ronan's arms, and he would snarl in pain as the black cloaks carried him off. I was no longer afraid of this red-eyed angle-like creature that would hold me in its iron grip in every dream, but I was immensely afraid of losing Ronan. Losing him meant the end of everything I knew that was right in the world I lived in when in these compelling dreams, and I'd claw and fight this person until Ronan's pained face was out of sight. This dream had to be the worst. I'd wake up bawling each time, and I had no idea why. I'd only known Ronan for one day! Why was I so upset every time those malevolent cloaks dragged him away?
Despite all of this, I've managed to keep it from interfering with school and friends. Soon, the Swan-Masons would be a figment of the past, people I would vaguely remember as I reminisced my first day of Forks High School years in the future. So, I kept my chin up, bought a digital-touch poster board I'd use for projects during the year, typed up the project Edward and I were assigned to for U.S. History, and hooked it up to my computer for transfer. I would do a great presentation even without the help of Edward and Bella.
I was going to make it through Forks High School with shining stars. Just like I did every year at my old schools. I would be a legacy here at this tiny school, and that would be okay. I would just forget the Swan-Masons. It would be like they never even existed.
Finally it was Friday. The campus was bustling with excitement as the first weekend was edging its way into the present, and I lugged in my digital poster for U.S. History. I locked up my car and decided to come back for it before history, and as usual, Cindy and Max were waiting for me on the campus to walk to class.
"TGIF!" Cindy squealed, handing me a piece of fruity hard candy.
"Thanks, Cindy. I'm just so glad this week is over. It seemed to drag on forever." I said, taking the wrapper of the treat and popping it into my mouth.
"I know. Don't worry, though. The first week is always the worst. It'll get better sooner or later." Max replied, putting his candy in his mouth.
I sighed. "I sure hope you're right, Max."
With that, I walked to first period, and the rest of the day slugged by.
Finally, I was done with the dreaded gym class I had every other day, and I went out to my car for my project. Everyone was seated when I got into history, and I stored my poster in the back of the room.
Mr. Shore clapped his hands. "Okay, everyone. It's time for presentations on your states. Can I have Shayleen Hausberger and Katie Schmitt's presentation on Arizona first?"
The two jet-black haired girls that also sat at our lunch table took their digital poster board up front and did their presentation flawlessly. As did the groups after them. I was beginning to get jittery. He wasn't going to make me present, was he? I was out numbered; everyone was in groups of two… some of them even wrote humorous dialogue like Katie and Shay's presentation, or had a clever theme such as a star interview in Hollywood for the state of California which was Max and Cindy's presentation.
After a round of applause and a nod of approval from Mr. Shore, Cindy sat down and Max high-fived her, and she gave a grin of satisfaction to herself. I sat through a few more presentations, getting more and more panicked by the overachieving presentations when I finally tapped Cindy on the shoulder.
Mr. Shore was asking further questions about Pearl Harbor to Kellan and a blonde boy who's name I couldn't remember when Cindy whispered out of the side of her mouth, "What?"
I leaned over the arm of my desk toward Cindy, fighting to not loose my balance. "Why is everybody going above and beyond for these projects? I just wrote up a presentation on a digital poster board and I was going to give a quick over view."
Cindy looked over at me then with a twinge of shock in her expression. "Oh crap. I completely forgot. You're new."
I was perplexed. "And what does that have to do with my question?"
"It's kind of a known fact in Forks High that if you want to barely pass his course, you do the bare minimum of what is on the outline sheets he gives us for projects. He will give you maybe a seventy for your poster board. Maybe a seventy five if you included absolutely phenomenal graphics and multi-media news footage and stuff. But if you weren't creative to the point where it almost wasn't entirely like the original outline sheet he gave us, you're screwed." She gave me a sympathetic expression. "I'm so sorry, Ava. I feel horrible I didn't tell you."
I was immediately infuriated. Of course I was going to fail the project I slaved over for the past three days when I figured Edward or Bella weren't coming back. "Seriously?" I said a bit louder than a whisper. Mr. Shore's head snapped over to my desk almost immediately, like he had been expecting me to interrupt the class for the past half hour.
"Miss Jameson? Is there something you'd like to add?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
My mouth suddenly went dry. What did I know about Pearl Harbor? Wait, what am I thinking? I know everything about Pearl Harbor. Some of my closest friends at Hibiscus still have stories passed down from their great, great grandparents about that American tragedy. But what to say? Oh! Justine's great, great grandmother's story!
"I… um… I just have an interesting story about that day that my friend Justine told me back in Honolulu, I could share it, if it's alright with you."
"Boys, is it alright if Miss Jameson shares her story?"
"Sure" the boys said in unison. Anything to make you stop interrogating us was more like it.
So, I told them the story of my friend from Honolulu's grandmother. She had been sitting on the porch of her Hawaiian home on the glorious seventy degree day, listening to the radio and waiting for her high school sweetheart to come home from the naval base when she saw air planes fly across the blue sky. She thought it was strange, but she laid her head back and rocked in the rocking chair without a care anyway until she heard an enormous booming sound like nothing she had heard in her life. She thrust herself out of the rocking chair to see what had happened, and dread washed over her when she saw clouds of black smoke billowing from the direction of the naval base. She thought her boyfriend was dead, and she was completely numb hours later when President Roosevelt came on the radio and spoke about the horrifying event and her boyfriend had yet to return to her. But, luckily, not long after the broadcast, she saw him walking up the street, dirty and exhausted, and she ran to his arms. That story always made me feel good after telling it. It was one of those stories that made me realize despite how much bad there is in the world, there are those miracles that prove that there is some decency in life.
When I was finished, Mr. Shore smiled at me, impressed. "Thank you for sharing that story with the class, Ava. That will most definitely go towards your grade for your project, which you don't even have to worry about anyway because it is just absolutely phenomenal."
What? How could he possibly know that? He hadn't even seen my project or presentation yet. "What?"
On cue, the bell rang, and my peers rushed out of the room, eager to begin their first weekend of the school year. Max and Cindy looked at me anxiously as I sat at my desk, question unanswered and confused, and I flicked my wrist at them, "Go on. I have to ask him a question. I'll meet you out there."
They nodded and fled, while I walked up to Mr. Shore's desk. "Mr. Shore? How do you know my project is so great? I haven't even presented or shown you my poster yet."
He was now giving me the puzzled expression. "You left it on my desk at the end of the day yesterday. I was looking it over before class today and I was very impressed. The summery on 9/11 was like nothing I've ever read before from a student. It was like you were actually at the scene."
What the hell was he talking about? I had never left a poster of any kind at his desk yesterday, or any day. I had just brought it in before the period. "I'm sorry, there must be some sort of misunderstanding. I didn't bring my poster here yesterday."
"Well, someone did. Maybe your mother saw it and brought it in for you," Oh, sure, that'll be the day. "It's right here." He wheeled his rolling chair over to the far right of his desk and picked up a red foam-board poster with exquisite pictures of New York that looked as if to be taken by a normal tourist, but they were still beautiful and not ordinary pictures you would find online. There were summaries of each picture on the side in a fancy font that I've never seen on any website or word processor I've ever used. It was completely old fashioned, but it was pulled off with perfection.
It wasn't until I took it out of his hand to examine it when I realized that the font wasn't actually font, but it was handwriting. Perfect, flawless, and excruciatingly familiar handwriting. Where have I seen this handwriting before? I was wracking my brain when Mr. Shore said, "I don't really see a need for you to present tomorrow, I see an easy A plus sitting right in front of me. Thank you so much for the great poster and story, Ava. It seems you've put a lot of thought into the project."
I didn't know what else to say, so I thanked Mr. Shore, left the room and began walking to the parking lot with Cindy and Max, intensely annoyed with the fact that I couldn't figure out where I had seen that handwriting and completely baffled about the who had dropped off the mysterious poster. Almost scared. Who knew about the project and outline besides Edward and Bella? They were gone. They couldn't have possibly brought such a poster to the school… or had they? Where did these Swan-Masons even live?
Before I knew it, I was at my car and Max, Cindy and I were parting ways. "Bye, guys, have a nice weekend." I said; my voice sounded drained. I had to get home.
"See you Monday, Ava!" Cindy said, prancing away as Max waved goodbye to me.
I quickly got into the car, slammed the door, and plugged in the password to start it. I cranked up the heat, my teeth chattering in the forty degree weather. How could it possibly be this cold in September?
I put my head back on the heating leather seat and closed my eyes. I hadn't realized how tired I was. All of these weird events that had taken place in Forks, along with the haunting nightmares had really taken a toll on my energy level. This weekend was going to be all about resting up, and forgetting the paranoia. The Swan-Masons were gone. The Cullens were gone, their identity erased almost completely except for the few artifacts under my floorboards and Max's bizarre story. I was done worrying about it. It was time for me to live my life, and it mine as well start with a well rested weekend.
Before I could doze off in the school parking lot, I drove onto the rain-drenched road and was more than ready to flop myself onto my bed for a long nap when I got to the house. But when I got to the door, I heard a man's voice yelling. It was a voice I hadn't heard in almost forever, so violent and malevolent, I was close to terrified. I was about to swing the door open and make sure our house wasn't being broke into when I heard something smash to the floor and shatter into a million pieces.
Everything was silent for a moment, until a heard a woman's voice shrill "Peter! We will not let the girls see us like this! I cannot believe you would, in all my life, make a bet as stupid as that. Drunk or not, this could cost us our home, our life our money!"
I heard an agonized sob from the woman, who was my mother, and my heart went cold when my father said in that sickeningly familiar voice, "Clean this up! Ava should be home soon."
My hand was still on the doorknob, and I felt my jaw go slack. It was my parents, fighting about my father's alcohol problem. No. No, that was over. It had been long over. He went to rehab seven years ago, and has been sober since. He promised there would be no more coming home and passing out on the couch all day when he was off of work and supposed to be seeing one of my plays or going to a baseball game. He promised he wouldn't go gamble his valuable money with his buddies at the bar and loose thousands in one night. He promised this to us when he got out of rehab. He swore to his whole family that it would never take over his life again. But what was I thinking? Of course it had been a lie. Nothing true ever came from my parent's mouths. I was so engulfed with rage that my father went back on his promise, I swung the front door open as hard as I could, and hearing it violently hit the wall behind it.
My mother had her headphones on, and was washing her face in the kitchen sink as the House Cleaner sucked up the glass that was scattered on the floor from whatever my father smashed.
I went and stood at the opening of the kitchen, my feet set, waiting for my mother to turn around and confront me, but she never did. She just continued washing her face as if nothing happened, and she knew I was there. She was going to keep this from me. Like every flaw that our family had, she would never tell me about this incident between her and my dad. It would be as if it never happened. And just like her fake love, that fact would always remain.
I couldn't take staring at the back of her head. I stormed out of the house and into the thick woods in the back of my house. I didn't care if I ever came back. I was sick of my parent's theories on love and life. I just couldn't take it anymore.
The woods were thicker than I thought. The trees towered over me, making a canopy that blocked the sky. I kept my eyes on my feet to watch for any obstacles, and I lost all track of time when I got to a wide, shallow river. I looked back from where I came, and I couldn't even see an opening to the woods anymore. Strangely, I wasn't overcome by fear that I was lost, but pride that I had the courage to break away from my family. With the most utter audacity I'd ever contained, I rolled up my kakis to my knees and walked across the ice-cold river. My teeth began to chatter when I got to the other side of the river, and a cold wind blew and raised goose bumps on the half of my forearms that weren't covered by my sweater. Still, I rolled my kakis down and continued walking in my now sopping shoes.
It wasn't long after that when I came up on this small, hundreds of years old cottage. It was beautiful, the kind of house I would like to live in- secluded, far from extravagant, and for some reason reminded me of a fairytale.
Who could leave this beautiful cottage to rot in the woods? I shook my head as I looked over the abandoned masterpiece, getting closer and closer to the window to take a closer look, when I was stopped cold when my eyes caught the top of small chimney peeping out the side of the cottage. There were little clouds of smoke gently puffing out the top. Some one was in there.
In shock, my head snapped down to peer through the window where there was a familiar face staring back at me with weary, chocolate brown eyes. Vanessa.
The Swan-Masons were here? And they lived in the middle of the forest behind my house? In this tiny cottage, all the adopted high schoolers plus the parents lived their lives? Where did they all sleep?
The sudden revelation sent my heart racing, but my feet were set. I couldn't move. This wasn't possible. How did they get here everyday without me seeing them? All the way back in the middle of the forest!?
The questions were still ringing in my head when I realized Vanessa was shaking her head frantically and pointing to her left. Was she sniffing the air, too? She was saying something, but her mouth was moving too fast to be able to read her lips. I just stood there, bewildered, when she finally slowed down her racing lips and I could read what she was saying. Run.
I tried to run, but I was still frozen by the revelation. It was all down to one question, and one question only to answer all of the ones that had been assaulting my brain for the past week. Who really were the Swan-Masons?
I saw Vanessa appear at the glass of the window as if out of thin air, and she banged her hand so hard on the glass that it shattered around her tight fists. I heard her scream "NO!" before I was violently thrust through the air.
