Author's Note: I give each and every reader full rights to slap me. I am so sorry I haven't updated. I've been so busy with just…everything. Please forgive me? *Puppy dog eyes*. Anyway, this is the REAL Chapter 1 of What I Was Looking For. ALERT: There is a possible title change. Vote in the poll on my profile. Thanks guys. Also, the written divisions in the story (Jasper Whitlock…Rosalie Lillian Hale…etc.) will be eliminated once the story is running more smoothly. Right now, they are just there because everyone is all over the place instead of together.
Details about the story: I might possibly have a smidgen of writer's block since I am a little out of touch with my characters. But, over prepared as I am, I have some outlines to go by. Things will pick up from here; people will settle in, make friends… *winks*.
It's all uphill from here. Here we go. Please keep your hands on the mouse, eyes glued to the screen, and feet tucked under your chair at all times during the ride.
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Isabella Marie Swan
My mother glanced warily at my carry on bag. "Are you sure you brought your jacket? It gets cold in Forks, Bella. Be careful, I don't want you to get sick." Behind her, Phil nodded, subtly reinforcing her point without trying to seem overbearing and in the way. I nodded.
"It's in the bag, Mom. Please don't worry. Be happy. I'll be out of your hair and you can travel with Phil and the team, for goodness's sake smile, Mom!"
She did, wanly. "Bella, I love you, and I want you to know you can come home whenever you want. Call me whenever you want and email me everyday if you can, okay?"
I nodded again. I seemed to be doing a lot of nodding, so I gave her a hug and shook Phil's hand, turned away, and got on the plane. I looked back once to see my mother holding Phil's hand walking away from the terminal. She looked back and smiled at me again. I nodded at her and walked forward again.
When I reached the small airport in Port Angeles I got a coffee and texted my mother to let her know I had 20 minutes until the next flight to Forks. I walked back over to the terminal and sat down to wait. When it was time for my flight, I got on the plane, but I didn't look back this time. I just sat and waited for the plane to start.
When we landed, I felt disoriented for some reason and my head was hazy. I lackadaisically stepped off the plane and swept the room for my father, Charlie. My brown eyes met his and I stepped forward to meet him. He swept me up in a hug and kissed my forehead. "Bella! It's good to see you sweetheart." His face (and mine) was pink from the display of affection. We just weren't that family.
I pointed out my luggage to him and a few minutes later we were settled in the cruiser talking about the usual things, school, my mother, Phil. It was mundane. The quiet settled over us, but it wasn't strangling. It was comfortable and I stared pensively out the window at the soft diamonds of rain falling from the sky and the absurdly large amount of bright green flora. It felt like some sort of alien planet. I was used to dry, flat, sandy stretches of land. The color around me would take some getting used to.
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Jasper Whitlock
The flight to Colorado from Texas was maddening. From the moment I stepped onto the plane, people were backing away from me, seeing my scars and jumping to conclusions. I won't say it was insulting, but it kept reminding me that I could never run from my past no matter how hard I tried. I wasn't that person anymore. I was stronger and I had a family. I am NOT that person anymore, I thought again.
I pulled my sleeves down as a flight attendant stopped by my seat to offer me a drink. I asked for water and pulled out two dollars to pay for a plastic bottle of water no bigger than my fist. (A/N: I hate airplane drinks. They charge so much money for so little.) I grimaced. What a waste. I opened it and gulped it down. It was ice cold and I could feel it running down my throat and into my chest.
After a few hours, we reached a small town named Port Angeles in Washington. The airport was tiny. I pulled on my jacket for even though it was warm in the building, beads of rain were pouring out of the sky and I knew it would be cold. I stared at the rivulets of water in fascination. Rain in Texas was often rare and it fascinated me whenever I saw it. I had never seen snow in my life. Thoughts of snowball fights and snow forts danced through my head but I quickly shook them out before the memories I would never have started to build up painfully. I was no longer a child. I didn't have time to play anymore.
I had to take another quick flight up to the small town called Forks (vaguely wondering if there was a sister town called Spoons) where I would be staying with Carlisle and Esme. Odd, old fashioned names, I thought. But then again, who was I to judge? My name was Jasper. You really couldn't get more civil war than that unless you crossed the Mason-Dixon Line. (A/N: I'm sorry, I had to put that in there, I'm from Texas. We southerners like our history. )
When I reached Forks, I looked over at the other terminal in time to see a small brunette be swung up into a hug by someone who could only be her father. There was so much joy in his eyes I had to turn away. I had never seen that kind of love emanate from a parent. I was insanely jealous of the girl. She was so lucky to have people who cared for her like that.
As I turned around, I saw a small woman with hair the color of melted caramel, and her enormous and soft grey-green eyes were set in a porcelain heart-shaped face heading toward me. Her smile was huge, friendly, and infectious. She was holding the hand of the man next to her tightly. His smile was large as well, and fatherly. His blonde hair was combed back tightly, but I could see the greys poking through. He was tall, almost 6'3 in comparison to my 6'1 frame. He was handsome, with sharply angular features and brown eyes so light, they might as well have been golden.
When the couple reached me, he stuck out his hand. "Are you Jasper Whitlock?" I nodded. "Carlisle Cullen. It truly is a pleasure to meet you." I smiled a small, genuine smile. I respected the man…Carlisle… instantly. His eyes were on mine, not my scars. The woman, who I could only assume was Esme, was smiling at me. I shook his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. Thank you for taking me into your home." I did a semi-salute and touched my forehead gently when I made eye contact with Esme again. She nodded at me, pleased, I assume, with my manners. Esme stepped forward. "Jasper," her voice was soft, lovely, and oh-so-motherly in the best way, "I am so glad you are to be my son. I really hope you will be happy with us."
I assured her I would be, and I knew it was true. I respected Carlisle and I was already accepting her as a mother. It was hard to trust people, but during what some would call "group-therapy sessions" back in Texas with my brothers Jacob, Seth, Sam, Embry, and the rest, I had learned that you had to let people in so you could learn to trust again. I put that into action here. I felt at ease with them. Their genuine joy radiated off of them. I basked in it.
Esme took my arm while Carlisle and I took my luggage out to the car. On the ride home, we talked about my past and theirs. Carlisle and Esme listened with rapt attention as I described the bond between my brothers and my oath to myself to stay away from drugs. When I had described being abused, Esme had taken my hand and clung to it tightly. I appreciated the gesture immensely.
Esme told me, with small tears in her eyes, that they had wanted to adopt for years. She had miscarried once early in their marriage, and when she did get pregnant, their son, Aro, had died twelve days after being born. They had tried several agencies, but due to Carlisle's busy schedule as the town doctor, it took months before they were even considered. When they had received my file, they hadn't hesitated despite the social worker's warnings about my activities.
I considered how I felt for a moment. I was so tranquil it surprised me. I hadn't felt real contentment in a very long time. I looked over at my guardians and loved them all the more. I knew it was because of their home, the soft green blankets wrapped around everything, and their kindness that I was finally on the verge of happiness.
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Mary Alice Brandon
Jesus Christ, lord and savior in heaven, why was it so HOT? Oh. My. Goodness. When someone says something about Texas heat, I will never scoff at them for exaggerating ever again. I stepped out of the small airport to hail a cab to the train station in Honey Grove, Texas. (A/N: I love One Tree Hill and the Honey Grove episode is my favorite. I had to put this in here. It's my duty as a fan. ) I reached the train station about twenty minutes later and stepped inside the (blessed be the lord) air-conditioned room.
I stepped up to the counter and stood on my tip-toes to see over it. Being short and compact was great for cheering and ballet, but being 4'10 in the real world was difficult. The kind looking old man peered down at me, green eyes twinkling. "What can I help you with, little lady?" His southern accent poignant in the silence.
I giggled. "Who are you calling little, mister?" I teased playfully, letting a little bit of my Mississippi twang escape. He caught it and smiled widely.
"A southern lady, huh? I'm honored to serve you ma'am. Where is your mother today?"
"She's in Washington, sir, getting our new house ready. We moved today," I smiled at him. "May I please have a ticket to California? I'm meeting up with my sister Cynthia in San Diego. We're flying to Washington from there."
He nodded. "You be careful, little lady, there are some mighty strange people in California." I nodded, touched by his concern. My fingertips tingled. I looked down the counter to see him picking numbers for the lottery. He was a nice old man who deserved some happiness. Besides, no one bet against me, my senses were never wrong.
"6, 27, 15, 32, 44, and the power ball is 17, sir, that's my guess."
He smiled again, "You sound might sure about that, ma'am, and I think I'll trust you." He filled in the numbers on the sheet.
"Good choice, sir."
A few minutes later, we said our goodbyes and I climbed onto the train. When I reached California, I met Cynthia in front of our terminal.
"Sister," I called laughing as she swung her auburn hair around and turned to see me. She smiled and we did our handshake. Two hip checks on both sides and one round of Slide-Slide-Slippery-Slide and then a hug and a ridiculous old Biloxi High School Bobcats football cheer. (A/N: I've been doing this handshake with my best friend Elliot for years now. We get lots of stares in public. )
About 15 minutes later we were both comfortably seated in first class flying to a town called Port Angeles. When we reached that airport (my third of the day) we got a rental car and drove to the car garage where my parents had had Tweety stored during the journey.
As we got into a cab to head to downtown Port Angeles to fetch my car I saw the back of a tall blonde man get into a car with a small woman with copper hair. It was the perfect mother and son moment. I didn't get a good look at either of their faces, but I got a weird sense that I would, and soon.
The ride to Forks was an hour long. SynSyn and I made up for it with chatter and music. When we reached Forks, I pulled up in front of the hotel where we would be staying. My mother's renovations were not complete just yet. The sky was dark with clouds when we arrived but bright stars twinkled out once in a while. The moonbeams reflected off the green nature and gave it a calming glow. This is where I was supposed to be, I just knew it.
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Rosalie Lillian Hale
I coughed loudly at the train station attendant in front of me. "Asshole, my eyes are up here." He looked up, embarrassed. Good, I thought, the pervert should be ashamed. He handed over my ticket and my heels clacked on the marble floor of Grand Central Station as I walked over to board my train. The ride to California was going to be long but it would give me time to think. My parents and my brothers had flown up earlier together to get settled into the hotel we were staying in until our house was complete. My mother did love her projects.
I'll admit, I was lonely. I was moving and I was alone. Past events had led to my isolation from the public and, glad as I was to be severing ties, I still wanted someone to be able to call and whine to or something. I was less of a shell now. I was getting better. I was forcing myself to heal.
Suddenly a pair of deep blue eyes and dimples flashed into my head. My savior. I thought about him nearly every day, but the memories were locked so tightly away that his eyes were all I could remember with clarity.
I felt a sharp pinch in my left forearm. Subconsciously, I had grabbed the flesh there and dug my nails into it. It had become habit after what had happened and whenever I thought about it too much or for too long. I shook his eyes out of my head.
They were to be discussed later, when I was healthy again. Or, at least, pretending to be.
As I boarded my flight to a speck of a town called Port Angeles I heard the end of a small football cheer for some team called the bobcats. I shook my head, but I smiled. Some people, you know?
After another small flight up to the town where I'd be living, Forks it was called, I stepped outside and climbed into the black town car my father had sent for me. Much to my surprise, he, my mother, and my brothers were inside of it also. I was pleased to see them. "Mother!" I said, delighted that they had come. She reached out to hug me, and out of utter instinct I flinched back. She sat back without saying a word, but her eyes were filled with hurt, suspicion, love, and curiosity. I felt guilty and sent her an apologetic smile. She nodded and explained that my hotel room was ready. I smiled at that and took up looking out the window. The car was quiet for the hour's drive it took to reach Forks. The thick canopy of trees above my head was comforting, like the trees knew my secrets and were trying to protect me. I appreciated them for it.
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Edward Anthony Masen
The house we visited a few years ago had sat waiting patiently for us to arrive, looking for all the world like it was almost excited to have permanent residents. The updates my mother had planned were complete and we could finally live in it. My parents climbed out of the car and I followed suit.
It was wonderful after a twelve hour long car ride to Forks from California. We had gotten up early to take a red-eye flight to California from Chicago and after a few hours of sleep, a long drive to Forks, Washington.
By the time we reached our home, night had fallen and slivers of soft white floated down from the moon and peeked out through the roof of trees, illuminating all the green around us to a sort of celestial glow. (A/N: That does sound a little bit…not manly, I'll admit, but I love writing about moon light. Besides, Edward is well versed anyway.) Unsurprisingly, the ride had been mostly quiet. Everyone was thinking to themselves. In my mind, I had gone over the day with the brunette I had met months ago. I kept thinking about everything and how it played out and what I could have said or done to make it better. Every time I thought about it, I focused on the details. Like, the way the light caught her hair and brought out the red highlights. Or the way her eyes twinkled when we shared an interest or hobby or thought or obsession.
I was always in debate over the no names thing, however. I felt like it was right to preserve it as a happy shared day and memory between two people but other times I felt like I it was the opportune moment to claim the person I thought I could love. I wondered if she ever thought about me at all. I wonder if I had gotten her name or email if we would have stayed in touch all these months. I wondered as we drove through Olympia and Port Angeles and I wondered as I walked up the stairs to my new room. I wondered all the time and just before I fell asleep, I wondered when I would stop wondering.
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Emmett Dale McCarty
I wasn't really surprised when Jenny solved the maze before I did. That girl was a frickin' genius. However, the smarts gene must have been real fickle because only my siblings had it. I was clever and witty when I needed to be, but math and I just did not get along. My teachers in Gatlinburg had tried for years to simplify the concepts so I could understand them, and it worked, usually, but I still enjoyed football and lunch more than Trig and Physics.
When we stepped out of the airport in Forks, Washington, night had already fallen. Here and there, stars were twinkling. It was a nice thing to see that even though some of them were defeated by the clouds, other stars didn't give up and refused to be covered up. I respected those stars. Tough little guys.
My mind was restless on the ride home. When we had stopped in California for a flight connection, I had seen a tall blonde step into a terminal just as we arrived. Something about her was so familiar but she never turned around so I didn't no for sure. However, now I was stuck with a niggling feeling about it that would drive me nuts for days until I made some sort of connection or just forgot about her.
Josh poked me in my arm. "Story, Em. Story!" he cried excitedly into my ear. I turned and smiled. It was late and Josh and Jenny would need to sleep soon. I turned to her. "Jenny, would you like a story, too?" She nodded happily. I began a tale of dragons and warriors and castles and princesses and princes and knights (taking a little from Princess Bride, which I had watched with Jenny the day before).
Soon they were both asleep. My mother turned and smiled at me, her navy eyes twinkling. "Thank you, Emmett; you sure do have a way with your words." I laughed. "I guess so, Mother."
We arrived at the new home around two-thirty in the morning. It was cool outside but not humid. A light rain was beginning to fall as we parked in the driveway. I picked up Jenny from the car and carried her inside. The moon light illuminated her face and made her look like an angel. I smiled at the thought. She was so smart and clever. She really was a little angel to me. I loved her dearly. As I headed upstairs, my father's gravelly voice rang out to me "Goodnight son, and welcome home," I nodded. The last thing I noticed before I turned out the light was a small light being turned on inside the house across the street. Then, my eyes shut, and I fell into slumber.
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Well, folks, would you look at all of that? 7 pages! Just for you guys! I hope you like it. Read – check. Enjoy – check. Review…? Gonna scratch that off the to-do list as well? I hope so.