Hey. This is the first chapter of the story. I originally wrote this story with different characters, so if you see a name you don'y recognize just check up here.

Landon = Edward

Destiny = Bella.

Disclaimer: I'm not Stephenie Meyer, therefore, I don't own Twilight or any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them for a while ;]


Bella

It's noon.

Already?

According to the clock up there on the wall, it's twelve p.m.

I stare at the clock with disbelief. Of course a household appliance wouldn't lie to me. Time isn't supposed to fly this fast, though, is it? It didn't back when I was younger. Days lasted forever then. When did time decide not to stick around anymore? When did it decide my days weren't exciting enough to extend?

Okay, that one I can understand. My days are hardly what you call "exciting" anymore, ever since I stopped believing in magic. Sometimes I wonder why I stopped. Technically my life is filled with so much "good" stuff, but I never expected it to overwhelm and exhaust me. It takes all the old-fashioned fun out.

So now it's noon. I got home from work about an hour ago, flopped on the couch, and I guess I haven't gotten up since. Daydreaming certainly passes the time away.

I should go make lunch for myself. I ate breakfast at the coffee shop I work at earlier. It was just an apple-cinnamon strudel braid. Admittedly, I'm slender, but it's not because I don't eat. I can't go a day without food. Usually I can't even go a few hours. Just have a fast metabolism, I guess. Everyone at school hates me for it, but it's summer. I don't have to deal with them for a good couple months.

I head to the kitchen, notice the floor is cleaner than when I left. My little brother Taylor must have swept it while I was at work. He's a good boy. Always does all his chores without being told. Dad adores him. I don't think he's so fond of me.

He loves me, of course. I just think he likes Taylor more.

I check in the fridge. No milk. That's nice. No sandwich meat either. There's barely anything in the refrigerator. Mental note: need to go grocery shopping. I sigh and head over to the cupboards. I know we have peanut butter and jelly. I can make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Except that we have no bread.

How the heck do we have no bread? We had half a loaf yesterday.

Curiously I check the trash can. Yup, there it is. I didn't think it was that old. I guess I was wrong.

There's absolutely nothing in this house. There's only one thing I can think to do: call Edward. He lives right next door. He's my best friend - has been forever. I used to have a "secret hideout" with him when we were really little. We were secret spy agents. We tried to sneak each other stuff without our parents knowing. We always had secrets to tell each other. It was fun, letting each other in on certain things no one else knew about. It was fun…until that time in our lives when the secrets became catastrophes. Secrets weren't so exciting anymore after that.

We still tell each other a lot. I actually confide in him the most in my life. Still…after your trust has been damaged beyond repair by one person, you find you lose your trust in everyone, even those who have never given you reason to doubt.

I should call Edward. It's Saturday - I wanted to spend the day with him anyway.

Ignoring the stupid butterflies in my stomach, I pick up the phone and dial his number.

Edward

"Edward!"

It's my mother.

I wish she wouldn't yell. I love her to death, but she doesn't have a good yelling voice. It's shrill, it's screechy, it's…yeah. It's not pretty.

"Bella's on the phone for you!" she yells.

Bella.

Alright, I should definitely get out of bed now. Mom lets me sleep in on Saturdays, but Bella…well, she thinks sleeping in till noon is crazy. Hey, sleep is good. I only get, like, four hours of sleep at night anyway. Saturdays are my days to catch up. I'm often in my best moods on Saturday.

Still in my T-shirt and pajama pants, I walk down the stairs and grab the phone, which Mom has placed on the banister. She's standing at the bottom of the stairs, apparently waiting for me. She looks tired - well, actually, she always looks tired. She sort of looks grumpy today, though.

"It's noon, Edward, you should get up," she says, giving me one of those looks that's supposed to make me feel guilty that I wasn't up three hours ago.

"I am up," I say, turning around and taking the phone upstairs with me.

"Get dressed and greet the day," Mom screeches after me.

"Okay, Mom," I sigh. I hear her give a loud sigh after me. I probably shouldn't have used that kind of tone, what with her being grumpy and all, but I guess it's too late now.

"Hey, Bell," I say into the phone.

"I hope you weren't still sleeping," her voice says accusingly. "It's noon, you know."

"I wasn't," I say truthfully. It is the truth. I wasn't sleeping. I was lying in bed still, but not sleeping.

"I hope you're not being technical with me," she says.

How the heck does she do that? I can't figure her out to save my life and yet she knows what I'm thinking through the phone.

That's Bella for you. She's absolutely incredible. Mysterious, really. Funny, when we were little, she used to tell me all her deepest secrets, like who she had a crush on and that one time when she kicked the neighbor's dog and felt so bad about it that she made a sandwich for it. I usually just made up my secrets, just to get her to tell me hers. Once I told her I saw fairies in the woods. I didn't think she'd believe that. But she did.

Now she hardly tells me anything. I mean, she does, but just…not like that anymore. Ever since she learned what her Mom did. That pretty much became the end of our secret telling. I don't blame her. I just wish she trusted me as much as she used to. I'm not sure if she does anymore.

Although it's not really fair to her that I never really tell her what I'm thinking, but I've always known not to trust anyone. Something I was taught by good ole Dad.

Mom tells me I should never hate anyone. She also says I shouldn't lie. So which is worse? Saying I love and forgive my father, which is a lie? Or saying I hate my father, which is the truth?

"To hate is to murder," she always says. So I guess I'll keep lying.


That is is. I hope you liked it. I will probably post the next chapter in a week or two. Please leave a review on whether or not I should continue the story.

Thank you so much,

Ri