Okay, so this chapter is kinda me rambling so far. The part where the TV show and junk is coming, but I have to build up to that, ya know? So, that being said, can you pleaseeeeee be a little patient? I know that's a lot to ask, considering my writing schedule (Pffftt, what schedule? (; jkjk), but it would be much appreciated! Thanks.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'nuffin! (;

Renee was gone the rest of the day, not returning until the early hours of morning. I wondered where she went and could only come to one conclusion; my mom was a prostitute.

Kidding!

…Kinda.

I mean, what do you expect me to think?

First, she was all bitchy and moan-y—mad or stressed. Probably the pain of her life choice.

Secondly, in the middle of the afternoon she was dressed like she was going to a fancy dinner.

Maybe she's a high-class hooker?

Thirdly, Phil was rushing her out, even though her daughter, whom she hasn't seen in years, is standing right there.

Was she running late for an appointment?

Do hookers schedule appointments?

Well, she was high-class…

The shrill ringing of a phone snapped me out of my reverie.

Looking around nervously, I wondered if I should answer it. Like when you're at a friend's house and they're in the bathroom when the phone starts to ring. I mean, the only real friend's house I've been to was…His, but it's not like I really had this exact type of situation …Well, uh, maybe I kinda did.

*Flashback*

The little girl and her best friend were sitting together in the boy's living room floor, lounging on top of mountains of blankets and pillows, quietly working on homework.

"What did you get for number four?" The young boy asked his best friend, rubbing his temples as his eyebrows furrowed.

"You're only on number four?" The girl asked, shocked. The two best friends were now freshmen in high school and their first assignment was a worksheet on perfection. After that, they were supposed to write an essay on the same subject.

The girl just finished outlining the essay and was working on the opening paragraph, almost describing her best friend unconsciously. She sighed. This was supposed to be an essay answering the question on whether perfection should be sought after or admired, not a bad romance novel you can buy from Wal-Mart.

"I'm sorry, but the question is so vague. I have no clue how to answer it." The boy pretended to pout, seemingly hurt by his friends tone.

"Sorry," The girl chuckled. "Uh, number four…If you could choose to be perfect in any and every form, would you?" The girl only hesitated momentarily, because this was her best friend, whom she told everything to, this being no exception. "Um, I don't know if you want to put my answer, but I put, 'If I had the choice to be perfect, I wouldn't. Perfection is hard to define, because, really, has anyone ever found perfection? Sure, it is hoped for, but has it ever really been defined? In the dictionary, perfection is said to be entirely without flaws, defects, or shortcoming, but has there ever been a time where someone could give an example of perfection with unanimous agreement? If by perfection it means, I have flawless shiny hair, polite manners, never a bad thought, always a lady, never dirty, beautiful, fit…I would refuse. Our flaws make us who we are, whether good or bad. I couldn't live to be a robot, the same as everyone else. I never really was a conformist. I would rather be ugly and gross, then beautiful and mindless.'"

The boy stared in shock at his best friend before replying, "How did all that fit on three lines?" The boy's question was so unexpected the girl couldn't stop the hysterical giggle bursting through her lips.

"I write really small," She answered between giggles.

"I bet," The boy replied still a little out of it. Trying to avoid an awkward silence, the boy announced his urge to "Tinkle" as he so childishly put it, causing the girl to break into another fit of giggles as the boy ran off towards the downstairs bathroom.

There was maybe a second of silence as the girl sighed wistfully, losing herself momentarily before the clacking of heels broke her out of her reverie, causing her to straighten her back and stare at her papers, imitating the perfect student.

The girl still didn't understand why sometimes she was so formal with her friends' parents, but it was usually when the boy wasn't there. The boy was always with her.

Mrs. Masen would've been visible to the girl by the time she got to the landing between the first and second floor if she were looking. There was a whole hallway separating the staircases and a rail made of wood along the edge of the walkway, which made anyone up there able to see who was in the living room below. The girl didn't see her friends' mom until the landing, because she was busy by staring blankly at the essay she had forgotten moments ago.

When the woman made it to the bottom of the stairs, she finally looked up from her purse to find a mountain of blankets and pillows, with her couches pushed all the way back to the large front window. She smiled at the little girl, staring at her paper, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Bella," Mrs. Masen called, cheerfully. The girl looked up and smiled at the beautiful gown Mrs. Masen was wearing. She would only wear extravagant gowns like this for important occasions. The occasion this time was her friends' cousin's—cough cough, second cousins—wedding. Of course, the boy talked his parents out of it, claiming mountains of homework, and that high school was his second chance at becoming more responsible. Also about he would have loved to come, (Note the sarcasm) but that homework was more important than fun. Of course, being young himself, Mr. Masen knew his son was just avoiding "Monkey-suits," as he liked to call them. He convinced his wife to let him stay to, "Finish homework."

She agreed.

"Mrs. Masen," The girl smiled up at her, appreciatively looking at her dress. "You look absolutely amazing! I love your dress! That color green goes great with your eyes" The eyes that you blessed your son with, she thought to herself.

"Why thank you, Bella!" Mrs. Masen chuckled. "And how many times have I asked you to call me Elizabeth?"

"Um," The girl pretended to think about it.

"Isabella." Mrs.—I mean, Elizabeth—scolded.

"Okay, okay. Sorry, Elizabeth," The girl made a point to put an emphasis on her name. The woman chuckled.

"Okay, so I'm off," She searched through her clutch once more, pulling out keys and some money, before checking her feminine looking watch, sighing, then staring at the stairs. "If my husband realizes he will have to put his suit on eventually…" She said a little louder than normal conversation tone. The girl chuckled, shaking her head slightly.

Like father, like son…

Stomping started down the hall and the girl looked up to see a pouty Mr. Masen grumbling under his breath. When he noticed his wife's glare, his posture immediately straightened, plastering on a large smile, then taking his time to admire her form. The girl blushed looking away; it felt like she was intruding on an intimate moment.

There was a throat clear, and a pointed look at the girl lying on the blankets that finally snapped the man out of his thoughts, commenting on how lovely his wife looked. Mrs. Masen turned back to the girl.

"Okay, honey, we're off, but there are emergency contact numbers on the fridge, and here's some money for you guys to order something. Sorry I couldn't have dinner today, it's been a long day and it's still not over." She sighed, seeming to calm herself. "Well, where's my son so I could give him a proper goodbye?"

The girl had heard the toilet flush a while ago, but didn't comment on the absence of her missing best friend. She thought maybe he was hiding until his parents were gone to come out in case they changed their minds.

"Um, bathroom," The girl stuttered out. "I think he might be awhile, he had a burrito for lunch and well, you know…" The girl trailed off, blushing, not believing she had said this. The Masen's laughed at the girls flushed cheeks.

"Oh, that's okay then. Tell him bye and give him a big, wet kiss for me, will ya?" Mrs. Masen asked, winking at the girl.

"Uh, yeah, sure, no problem," The girl decided to just shut up then, but she couldn't help but add a, "Have fun," as they walked out the front door. Once she heard the car pull away, she started to wonder what was taking her friend so long, but as soon as she jumped off of her mount. Pillows, the phone rang.

From all the time the girl has been to her friend's house, she has never had to answer the phone. There was always someone there, so she wouldn't have to make the choice. The girl had no idea why her friend was taking such a long time, but surely he heard the phone, right? Maybe then he might hurry up and come out to see the girl staring at the object making noise hanging off the wall.

After the second ring, the girl decided the boy wasn't coming, so she slowly walked towards the white phone, twirling the curly string around in her finger before answering:

"Masen residence," Good, the girl thought, no stutter.

"Who is this?" The unfamiliar woman on the other end asked.

"B-Bella, ma'am. May I ask who's speaking?" Be polite, it's always the way to go.

"Well, hello Bella. May I speak to Elizabeth, please?" The woman answered, avoiding telling the girl her name.

"Uh…Well, Mrs. Masen just left, but I could leave a mess—" The woman interrupted.

"No need. I'll call back later then. Have a nice day, Bella." Day? The girl thought. It's night time.

"Uh, you, too," The girl answered back, but the other line was already disconnected. The girl stared at the phone, thinking one word; Rudeeee.

A throat clearing in the doorway broke the girl from her thoughts. The girl jumped when she turned to see her friend leaning up against a wall, arms crossed, smirk on his face, and a look on his face that said "Busted!" The girl felt like a little kid, who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? Who me? Yes, you. Couldn't be, then who?...

The girl nervously pulled at her clothes, avoiding looking at her friend, until he laughed loudly, startling her again. Furrowing her brow, the girl smacked his shoulder.

"Stop laughing," She commanded. "The phone was ringing and nobody was here to answer it, so I did. I don't know who it was, because the rude butt face wouldn't give me her name." Frustrated at her friend, she crossed her arms across her chest, and huffed.

The boy was kneeling over now, clutching his sides, panting out random things. "You just…"Breathe. "Ahah, butt face…" Breathe. "Oh my gosh, you should've seen your face!" The girl was annoyed now, and walked over to her friend while he was sucking in a breath…and hit him in the stomach. Not hard, but the boy was already having trouble breathing. The boy groaned, his laughter dying as he stood up, pouting. "I'm sorry," The boy batted his eyelashes and the girl forgave, like she always did…

*END FLASHBACK*

Ignoring my stupid "Moments" as I like to call them, I went in a search for the phone before it stopped ringing. Renee and Phil were still asleep, even though it was almost one in the afternoon. When I finally found the cordless house phone, I hesitated. What if it was Charlie? What would I say to him? Was I really ready to have this conversation? What if he makes me go back? I couldn't go back.

Sighing, I reached for the phone. "Hello?"

"Renee! So, tell me everything! I want details!" Okay, I'm sorry, but come on, really? Another rude lady? I didn't even get a hello. I swear, people these days.

"Uh, this isn't—" I tried to explain my predicament, but the rude chick interrupted me.

"Renee? You sound off. Are you okay? What happened?" Well, if you let me finish my sentence, then maybe I could've told you!

"I'm not—" Again, lady, really?

"Feeling well? Sick? Cold? Fever? Sore throat? Should I bring soup?" Uh, yeah, sure, soup would be nice, thanks!

Shut up.

Make me!

Am I really arguing with myself?

Yes, but there is a person waiting for an answer on that phone…

Oh, right, thanks!

No problem.

Ignoring my moment of insanity, I answered the woman who had yet to give me her name.

"No, no. I'm not Renee." I breathed out a sigh after rushing out the words, grateful to get it all out without an interruption.

"You're not Renee? Who is this, then?" Mrs. Rude lady is back then!

"I'm Bella,"

"Bella? Who's Bella? Where's Renee?" Oh, so she didn't know Renee had a daughter? Wow, mom, make me feel better.

"Uh, she's asleep. She had a long night." Truthfully, I was aggravated with Renee for sleeping in and leaving as soon as I got here. I mean, come on, what the fudge, mom? You're really helping me in my one time of need. In my seventeen years of life, I've only asked my mother for a pony for Christmas and obviously, that didn't happen. Instead, she left me and Charlie for a young dude named Phil, she met at the bank. I never held it against her, really, being a believer in love at first sight myself, but it devastated Charlie, so I sorta grew up. Became more independent, never asked for more than some cash for school clothes, but even that wasn't a big fee. All I got were jeans and cotton T-shirts. I wore my Forks sweatshirt over them anyways, so I didn't really care.

"I bet she had a long night." The woman said putting an emphasis on long night, which made me believe my mom, was a hooker even more.

"Uh, yeah, so can I leave a message? What's your name again?" Subtly was never something I quite mastered…

"Oh, no, it's fine, just tell her Esme called, she'll understand! Thank you, dear, have a nice day!" And with that she hung up. Hanging the phone up, I wrote down the name Esme on a little notepad that had little pictures running up the side. Sighing in relief that that wasn't Charlie, I sat on the couch, thinking of activities to do today.

The feelings the beach brought were soon diminished when my skin started to tint a reddish-pink color, even though I was sitting more in the shades and wearing old sweats, I felt like I was on fire, so I made my way inside, made some dinner, watched some TV, (Flicking through the channels mindlessly, waiting for something to happen) and then finally retiring for the night, earlier than usual.

Pretty boring.

I was going to register for classes for the nearest high school, but I kinda didn't exactly know where it was, so I was preparing to ask Renee, but she was currently unavailable, and I didn't want to wander around looking like a lost puppy as I tried to find my owner, who abandoned me on the side of the road, because I haven't mastered the art of potty-training yet.

Okay, you've officially lost it.

I lost it when I started talking back to myself.

True.

Or when you actually ignored me…

I wasn't ignoring you.

You weren't talking back, either.

I had nothing to say.

I need food…

Yeah, that's what you need.

Ignoring my inner voice, I searched Renee's kitchen, pantry, and found the thing lacking any comfort food. All I found were Carrots and protein shakes.

The hooker has to keep her figure.

Was anyone talking to you?

No, that's why I had to say something.

Sigh.

A knock at the door startled me out of my thoughts. Huffing, I slammed the cabinets a little harder than I meant to, and stomped my way to the door. Opening up, I found a short girl with long silky black hair. Her eyes were wide, but there was a sparkle of something there, maybe excitement? She looked familiar, but I couldn't think from where. Before I knew it, her little arms, spread out wide and she reached out to wrap them around my waist. Now, I'm not tall by any means, but this girl was short.

Reminded me of Tinker Bell.

Nobody asked your opinion!

I still gave it anyway.

Unfortunately…

"Hello…Um, sorry for hugging you, I just know we're going to be best of friends!" The pixie girl, who physically assaulted me, called me her best friend, and literally had her face in my boobs just smiles as if this was her everyday routine.

"Uh, yeah, sure, so what can I do for you…?" Tell me your name, please?

Oh, look you're being civil.

Shut up.

And it's gone.

"Oh, right, sorry," She blushed a little, but then straightened her shoulders, held out her hand, and spoke with a strength you wouldn't expect from such a little girl. "My name is Alice; I'm your new Made coach."

Duh duh duhhhhhh! (:

Hope you liked it! The show has finally begun! Uh, sorry for the delay. Review, please? (:

-Bianca! (: