Summary: Renesmee, now Nessie Taylor, was given up for adoption at birth, and has spent all 12 years of her life at an orphanage. She believes she can find her parents through music. Can she do it? Or is she just crazy like everyone else tells her?

Disclaimer: I own nothing :)

Chapter 2: 12 years 16 days

It wasn't too long before the sun rose, and it was a new day. I've already been reminded 3 times that Sam is coming into town, and Emily is too dressed up for a normal day of cleaning the house after the little ones destroy its neatness. Breakfast is larger than usual, which means that she's been baking since early this morning – a habit she channels all of her excitement into. No! She doesn't like Sam the slightest bit! I roll my eyes with exasperation when I see a plate set a side in the microwave. Hmm… I wonder who it is for…

The house is buzzing with more commotion than usual; it's no doubt that by now everyone has heard of Sam's visit. I'm forced to stay at the house today; Sam has to meet with every single one of us, typically from youngest to oldest. I'm the tenth oldest person in a house of forty-seven girls, and they take a minimum of twenty minutes each, but it is almost always longer. I'm forbidden to leave until I've had my turn.

I wander about the house, trying to find something I can occupy my time with. I come across an old storage room on the left wing (the wing where few venture into due to the ghost stories Victory and her group make to scare everyone), everything is so layered in dust; I have a sneezing fit the first seconds after arrival. I start clearing off dust and uncover an old organ – it still plays, but the sound is too low, and the notes sound weird to me, but then again, what do I know?

I go through some boxes in a corner, where the light hides them in the shadows – away from the sun. It makes me wonder if the old couple the town bought the house from did it on purpose… Maybe there were some things they had rather they forget about? What secrets did the boxes hold?

The temptation becomes too great, and I start going through them. There are some old newspaper clippings and pages of magazines that I've never heard of, in a black photo album with a piece of yellow 'CAUTION' tape on it for decoration. I find an editorial on a rock star named Mick Jagger, matter-of-fact all of the pages hold something about musicians. I observe some hand-written side notes and comments on some of them, and figure it belonged to a boy – the script too ugly and messy to be a girl, and doubtful that an adult would use words like "sick', 'totally rad', or 'awesome'.

I also find a journal, which starts out to be a journal for a few pages, (proving my theory that the room belonged to a boy) then gradually formed into a lyric book with some scribbles of symbols on five horizontal lines stacked up on top of each other. The kid was really good, his words, (well what I could read of them anyway) were interesting to read although they were at most times dark and often ridiculed adults for not understanding children.

I lose track of several hours trying to put melodies to the words in the book, when I take a break from that, I realize that I had missed lunch. I find a wedding photo in between a 'Rolling Stone' designed shoe box. There was a gorgeous young woman in an almost equally amazing gown, her face glowing and show casing her flawless skin. She was holding a toddler with wild, uncontrollable almost bronze looking hair which he and the woman shared. A lot like the color of a penny. He was smiling crookedly with only two front teeth, reminding me of a rabbit, laughing as the woman snuggled him with her wide cheek bones. The man had a strong build, and looked like a very hard working man, but in his own way – very handsome. He beamed his own proud smile looking at the woman and the boy. His eyes giving away that this was one of the best days of his life. It had the date of their marriage and the names 'Elizabeth Masen (bride), Edward Masen Jr. (son of bride), and Edward Masen Sr. (groom). They don't sound too familiar, I remind myself to ask Emily later.

I spend so much time in the dusty room, I completely forgot about why I was trying to kill time. I jump as I hear Emily yell, and threaten the air what would happen to me if I left the house and disobeyed her rules. Without a second thought, I carefully put the shoe box where I found it in the pile, then go to ease her worries.

After briefly brushing aside her questions, Emily sends me off to see Sam. I can tell he's had a long day, he sighs a little when I enter the room we convert to his office when he comes. The greeting is a little forced as he picks up the file and says my name. When I greet him, he suddenly straightens, as if I'm a warden and he is a prisoner.

He clears his throat looking nervous, "Renesmee," he starts, "I hear a great deal of things about you… from Emily I mean, you're not in trouble or anything…" and he begins to ramble. I understand then, he's worried he won't leave a good impression with me – the child Emily is closest to. Little does he know, he's already done more than enough to gain my approval. I go through the normal formalities, asking about his day, and family at La Push. He answers politely, and then we get started.

"How long have you been here, roughly?" He asks.

I immediately answer, "Twelve years, sixteen days," because it was true, "I've been counting." I say to answer his surprised look.

He lets out this sound from his lips¸ whistling, I think I heard Emily call it once. Then he writes it down with a shake of his head.

"Have you ever thought about living with an actual family?"

I decline as politely as possible. Why get close to a new family, when my parents are just going to come and find me, claim me as theirs soon anyway? Emily missing me is enough, I don't want to have to add people to that list.

"Listen, Nessie," I've already given him permission to call me that in the past, "Most kids think, that if they leave their first home, their parents have no chance of ever finding them again. I want you to know, it's my job to make sure that never happens. You get me?" When I nod, he sighs again and looks down at something on his desk and writes something on it, "Look. This is something I never do. I'm going to give you my phone number. Anytime you want to talk about any concerns you have, heck if you just want someone to talk to, I'm here okay."

I smile as I take it, then ask him how he did that whistling thing. I think Sam and I had a bonding moment – we talked for a little while, until Emily (her flustered flour covered self in all her glory) made us take a break for dinner.

Sam seemed nervous – all the different kids coming out of the wood work all at once, I figure I could help him out. I know these two adults aren't going to get themselves together, it was up to me. I, very subtly, dropped a hint that Sam would be a little uncomfortable with so many people at once – maybe just for tonight, the family could spread out further than just the dining room – and offered my help to clean up, and search for any plates that fail to make it back to the kitchen.

I heard Emily compliment my idea before I was back inside dragging Sam, his plate in hand, outside to my favorite person here in Forks. They were able to take it from there – eating near candle light under the stars as they made conversation. At least one of us would get our fairy tale, I think to myself when I see Emily's face light up brighter than the North Star. I leave them to have time alone.

A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed last chapter: PinkPower, babygirl246024, Anonim, and Miss malfoy-cullen-madara II, I also want to thank all of those who read this and are non-reviewers.