Chapter Two:

Over the next couple of years I got more comfortable in my new life. We were the typical American family. Charlie would go to work and Renee and I would go to Port Angeles Elementary. We would come home and Renee would attempt to cook dinner. Then Charlie and I would pretend like we enjoyed it. She tried, bless her, but Renee simply could not cook. She would come up with the strangest concoctions; every night was like playing Dinner Time Russian Roulette. Have you ever seen the movie Elf? You know, Buddy makes everyone dinner and they all just smile while they choke down their spaghetti and syrup? Yeah, that was dinner time at the Swans.

I learned pretty quickly that every day life in a family isn't movie theaters and Show Biz Pizza. Don't get me wrong, I love Charlie and Renee, but like all families we had our ups and downs. Charlie and Renee couldn't be more different if they tried. Charlie was content with a baseball game and a weekend of fishing. He didn't require much variety and excitement to make him happy. Renee suffocated in that type of life. Sometimes I think that's why she wanted to adopt me so much. She knew from having me in her classroom that I was a little mischief maker, always finding new ways to entertain myself.

That was the difference between us, though. According to the administrators at my school, I had an advanced intellect and photographic memory. I learned things very quickly, with minimum effort. It was very difficult for Port Angeles to keep me academically challenged. Because of this, I have plenty of time during class to think of ways to entertain myself. We also lived right next to a forest. It was literally our back yard. There were endless ways to occupy myself out there.

Renee, while she is by no means unintelligent, did not have the type of mind that could keep her days occupied with new adventures, real or imagined. It's funny, because as scatter brained and flakey as she was, she needed order in her spontaneous whims. She needed organized gatherings. Where I could pull out a paint set and spend hours creating my own masterpiece (to myself, if no one else), Renee needed an art class with an instructor to guide her imagination. If she tried it on her own she'd move on to the next distraction within half an hour. She might only go to lessons for two or three weeks before she moves on to the next passing fancy, but she needs someone else to plan the events and give her structure. Forks was just a small town, with very little attractions to keep Renee's interest.

Charlie didn't help, of course. He was content in his small town life. This is what led to the day when Renee informed me that we were leaving Forks to find greener pastures. I didn't think there could possibly be a greener place than Forks, Washington, but I kept that to myself. In fact, she took us to a place that was rather brown. Phoenix, Arizona was our new home. I was 7 when we left, and it was really hard to leave Charlie. I never really viewed him as my dad, as I still had that place in my heart reserved for a biological father I barely remembered. But I cared about Charlie, and it upset me to see him hurt. He may have been a man few words and content with a simple life, but I knew how much he loved me. I really loved him, too.

Living on my own with Renee was…interesting. Remember that structure that I mentioned before? Well, it turns out that Charlie was the structure that allowed her to appear as a fully functioning adult. In some ways, this was really good for me. My basic nature is a bit care free and irresponsible, not really taking life seriously. Because Renee was so careless in the planning and organizing of our lives, I had to become more of the parent in our house. I wanted to have dinner every night, which meant that we had to consistently have groceries in the house. It also meant that I had to make sure we were up in time for school and that Renee had all her lesson plans together, so we'd have money to buy said groceries. I didn't care for it, but it was necessary. Plus, it saved me from endless nights of fish lasagna, hotdog broccoli casserole and bizarre omelet creations.

This dynamic of our relationship was also beneficial to me, and well, unfortunate for anyone on my bad side. You see, Renee viewed me less as a daughter and more of a sister or friend. This left the issue of discipline and general parental type responsibilities to fall to the side. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a bad kid. I was the best student in my grade, and I took care of the responsibilities Renee slacked. I just had a tendency to bend the rules a bit.

I liked to push boundaries as far as I could, and see what I could get away with. I had the sweet, innocent, never-hurt-a-fly look mastered by age 8. I was also very crafty. I didn't really have any friends, and so all the adults at my school thought that I was just the shy introverted type. Not likely. I just had a hard time relating with the other kids in my classes. They didn't understand me and I thought they were pretty lame. Because of this, I could cause general mayhem in my classes, and no one ever looked in my direction.

I focused my mischievous ire on those annoying kids who think they're better than everyone around them and generally treat people like it's their world and you're just an unwelcome interloper. You know who I'm talking about. There was this one boy who always felt the need to take things that didn't belong to him. He would always hide his little stolen treasures so that the few times that a student actually reported the item missing they were never found within his clutches. One day our teacher brought in some old relic that had been passed down for generations and was his most prized possession. Oh Lord, did he treasure it, and talk about it…and talk, and talk and talk. So, I sneaked out of gym and put in a phone call asking to speak to good old Mr. Calvin of the ancient relic. I then used a bobby pin to break into his classroom and hide the revered relic amongst the thieving bully's belongings. Mr. Calvin was furious with him. He claimed he didn't do it, but then, he'd been accused before. They just hadn't had the proof. Now they did. Mwahahaha! Hopefully he got some help for his debilitating kleptomania. I was just trying to help him. Honest.

When I was 10, Renee started seriously dating a man named Phil Dwyer. He was a minor league baseball player. While Renee had dated a few men here and there since she divorced Charlie, Phil was the first man she'd brought home to meet me. That's how I knew this one was serious and potentially long term. Renee may be flighty and irresponsible about some things, but she'd never bring one of her boyfriends into my life if she wasn't planning to keep him. Phil was able to help take some of the adult responsibilities off my shoulders. He helped give Renee back some of the structure she lost back in Forks. He was also a decent cook and helped teach Renee about recipes. They are excellent inventions, and some products even have them printed right on the label. Evening meals became much more enjoyable, and while most nights he stayed until after I went to sleep, I never saw him in the morning. See, Renee could be a responsible parent sometimes.

Even though I really liked Phil, I still missed Charlie a lot. I would spend most the summer months with him in Forks. I would stay at the La Push reservation with Charlie's friend Billy while he went to work. His son, Jake, was a few years younger than me. He way more fun than most kids, and we really got along. We'd spend hours exploring the forest and swimming at First Beach. We also loved to play jokes on his friends Quil and Embry.

One year I spent all the school year writing in a diary as if I were Quil lamenting about how much I was in love with Embry, while Jake did the same with Embry about Quil. The next summer we placed the diaries in inconspicuous places that would still be likely found by the other boy. It was one of the funniest things I'd ever seen. Neither one wanted to admit that they'd read the diary and both were awkward as ass around each other. Whenever we hung out together Jake and I would always try to leave them by themselves (and of course circle back around so that we could spy on them), but they would never let us leave them.

We then decided to confront each of them separately. We told the both of them that we'd asked the other about the weird behavior and that they'd admitted their undying love. You should have seen the look on their faces! We had so much fun with that one all summer long. A few days before I had to go back to Phoenix, we forced the two together and told them they were friends and needed to talk it out. The conversation that followed is one of my fondest memories. There was awkwardness, followed by extreme confusion, and then we moved onto severe embarrassment, finally landing on unadulterated rage. Jake and I laughed and laughed. I felt a bit bad afterward, because they didn't talk to Jake for a few weeks. He assured me that it was totally worth it. I agreed.

I also enjoyed spending time with Charlie. He was an easy person to live with. I would help him with dinner most nights so that we could not only eat, but also have access to a kitchen that wasn't in a house burned to the ground. Charlie is the type of guy who would put food wrapped in tin foil in the microwave for reheating. Honestly, I don't know how the man survives on his own.

He would take me and Jake fishing every now and then and we'd all sit out on the peaceful lake relaxing in what little sun can be found in the Pacific Northwest. A lot of nights we'd just relax in front of the television, Charlie with a baseball game and me with a book. The time I spent with him was so different from the time with Renee. Instead of being shuffled to different lessons and events, always on the go, Charlie and I would just enjoy each others' company.

That had the best summer of my life, as Jake and I pulled off the awesome diary prank and filled our summer with enough happy memories to last me until the next summer. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I had no happy times with Renee. It's just that I didn't really have any friends in Phoenix, and I cherished my friendship with Jake. My birthday was July 3rd, so I always got to celebrate with Charlie, Jake and all our friends down at the Rez.

No one knew when my actual birthday was, so I was allowed to choose it myself. Pretty sweet deal, if I say so myself. I saw my first firework display shortly after being left at the orphanage. It reminded me of the dreams I had of a magical world I so wished was real. So when I was asked when I wanted to celebrate my birthday I immediately knew I wanted there to be fireworks. Doc told me that there would always be fireworks on Independence Day. After explaining the significance of the day, I immediately knew I didn't want to steal America's thunder. She told me that there are usually a few days of firework displays leading up to the fourth, so we decided on July 3rd*.

That year I was turning 11, and Charlie took me, Jake and Billy to a Mariners game in Seattle. Jake and I were allowed to pig out on as much ballpark food as we could stuff in our faces. We had a blast doing the wave and the chicken dance, as well as letting the Yankees know that we would in fact rock them, possibly drop them, and then in all probability throw them in the toilet while hoping they enjoy it. Charlie didn't like our little addition to the chant. Blame Queen. It turns out that the Yankees are actually better at rocking, dropping, and throwing opposing teams into toilets. They're New Yorkers, so I wasn't surprised when they didn't give us their best wishes to enjoy our stay in said toilet. We had a good time, though, despite the loss. The best part was after the game when the stadium set off the best fireworks display I'd ever seen. And all for me. You'll get your day tomorrow, America. It was my best birthday to date, that I could remember, anyway.

I came back to Phoenix at the beginning of August to spend the last two weeks of the summer with Renee and Phil. A few days after I got home a strange woman came to our house asking to speak with me and Renee about my education. Renee had researched schools for gifted children when we first got to Phoenix. I was able to get a scholarship to one of the best private schools in the city, so I wasn't sure what this woman was playing at. She was wearing what looked to be a long sleeve, floor length robe. Really, lady? It's August in Phoenix. We're talking about the desert here, people. In August.

She said that her name was Professor Sanderson and that she was a witch. For the first time in my life, I was speechless. I'm not saying that it's the first time I've kept my mouth shut and refrained from speaking. I'm saying it's the first time I've been incapable of speech. This was caused by my current incapacity to think. Everything and nothing was going through my head all at once. I know it doesn't make sense; just go with it. Point is, I was thunder struck. Professor Sanderson had managed to thunder strike* me.

A/N:

Firstly, I want to thank xcaligirl821x and Sweetie7smiled for reviewing. I took a break from writing budget variances (which I loathe, btw) to check my e-mail and was so excited to see that someone actually reviewed! It made my day. I also want to thank those of you who favorite and reviewed for giving the story a chance. I hope you like it. :)

As for my notations from above:

* Bella's Birthday: She will find out later that her real birthday is September 13th, but I figured that if she was abandoned at an orphanage that she may not know her true birthday. It also would have been terribly inconvenient for the timeline of my story if Edward didn't leave until September. :) July 3rd is my birthday and people always tell me if I'd just hold out one more day I would have been born on Independence Day. I always disagree for the aforementioned reasons. I don't steal America's thunder, but I always get fireworks on my birthday. It's totally win, win. Well, win, win, fail. It also means that I have to share my birthday with Tom Cruise. Total fail. : / Ah well, you can't win them all. I also thought that fireworks are a bit magical if you ignore all the physics going on in the back ground.

* "Dude, I didn't mean to thunder strike you." This was an It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia reference. I heart Charlie Day.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.