Twilight—50 Years Later

Part II

I came home after that tiring day of school. I had to stand up in front of every class I arrived to, announce my name, and tell the uninterested class a few things about me. It was stupid and pointless; nobody cared what I had to say—I know I didn't. I just wanted to rest my head and sleep the entire day, but the teachers wouldn't just let me do that in peace just yet.

My room was the first place I would go to, but after my constant gazing at the remarkable family at their lunch table today, I didn't have time to finish my plate, so I headed straight for the fridge. I made myself a humungous sandwich, piling it with as much things from the fridge that I could find, until it threatened to fall apart.

I was about to shove the monstrous thing inside my mouth, but someone's dirty football knocked it over before I had time to grab it. I stared at the pile of muddled food on the linoleum floor, watching in sadness and horror and infuriation. Then, I turned my eyes to the cause of it all. Right then, I saw Chad, my stupid brother, laughing his ass off like he'd just pulled the greatest prank on Earth. I forgot I even had a brother, failing to remember that he was coming back from college for two entire weeks.

"You...jerk!" I ran after him, pushing him to the ground while he was still laughing, grabbing a couch pillow and knocking the life out of him like there was no tomorrow. I decided it wouldn't be enough to kill him, so I tried to suffocate the bastard, forcing the pillow on his putrid, mocking face until he stopped breathing and died.

"Brooke! Get off of your brother!" I heard my mom shout. Of course, I didn't listen. I wanted to be a murderer like I've never wanted anything else in my entire life. Mom suddenly pulled me off and Dad came in to help Chad up. I rolled my eyes.

"Brooke, what's gotten into you?" Dad asked, his eyes shocked and livid.

Chad breathed in furiously, inflating his lungs to its maximum capacity and did so for several breaths until he stabilized. After that, he restarted his laughing. "You should've seen your face, Brooke. Man, that was classic!"

"What happened?" Mom let go of me, then turned me around to look into my eyes.

"He knocked down my sandwich! Look at the kitchen floor! It's all his fault!"

"All right, both of you, enough. Chad, shut up and clean the floor." Dad forced him to stop laughing with a tight grip on the shoulder. "Brooke, help your brother."

What? "But I didn't do anything!" I screamed.

"I don't care," he clarified. "Clean up the mess."

That was just great. I was so incensed that I attacked Chad again. I knew I had anger issues. I went to anger management back in my old town. So far as they knew, I was cured. I was such a liar.

They sentenced me to my room, so I was kind of glad I didn't have to clean up the mess, but they grounded me for two weeks. I was okay with that. It wasn't like I had anywhere to go or anyone to be with, anyway. Through my window, I saw Michael arrive, and shortly after him, I saw my grandfather's car come into the driveway. I rushed downstairs to greet him.

"Gramps!" I ran up to him and gave him the biggest and tightest bear hug when he came through the door.

"How's my little Brookie?" he asked, his voice was still as strong as the last time I heard him, which was at Gram's funeral. I could see his salt-and-pepper hair turning into a solid gray, his wrinkles creasing even deeper than the last time; but he still looked as healthy as an ox.

"She's been better. I'm so glad you're finally here, Gramps. Today wasn't anything special until you arrived," I complimented.

He kissed me on the forehead. "Today was your first day of school, wasn't it?" He sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him, signaling me to join him. "Tell me all about it," he smiled.

"It was okay, I guess. I made a friend, at least. His name is Steve Brezinsky. He had a friend named Jacob, but that's all who I really talked to."

"You have a lot of guy friends, don't you?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, I can't help it. None of the girls like me, so I'm stuck with the guys."

He chuckled. "You'll get used to Fillmore High School. I'm sure things aren't so bad. I remember my high school years weren't the greatest, but I had spectacular friends that made it better."

"What kind of friends?"

"Gosh, I hope I can remember that far back. One of them was...was... Well, I've forgotten their names. High school was pretty tough on us. I remember when one of my friends got into a car accident with...with someone. What was her name?"

"Whoa. Are they okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. Lucky thing it wasn't big." He got up, looking around for something. "I know I left it here somewhere."

"What're you looking for, Gramps?"

"I'm wondering if Jason still had my yearbooks. I know it's not in my house. There's too much junk in there already, so I made your dad take it. Jason," he called.

"Yeah, Dad?" Dad came in with a spatula in his hand. I could smell the aroma of the feast they were making for this little family reunion. I could smell the lasagna, the barbeque, the Cesar salad, all emanating from the kitchen. Mmm. It made my mouth water and my stomach yearn for a taste.

"You remember where you put my yearbooks?"

"Hmm..." He turned around, searching for potential areas where he might have placed them. "Look in that bookshelf over there. That's where I put all our yearbooks, I think." He finally turned to me. "Behave yourself, Brooke."

"Hey, give the kid a break," Gramps defended, and I smiled. "Today was her first day of school. She needs time to adjust. She's just a teenager."

"A teenager who tried to suffocate her brother."

"Dad!" I scolded.

Gramps looked at me, and I immediately felt ashamed. "Well, maybe the boy deserved it. Now go on and keep cooking. You can't expect me to wait any longer." With that, my dad went back into the kitchen to finish making our dinner.

I stood up to help him take a few yearbooks out. "Thanks, Gramps."

"Anything for my little Brookie. Now, I don't want you to get into that habit again."

"I know, I know."

"There we are," he said finally, sitting back down on the couch. I accompanied him as he searched through the yearbooks for something specific. Most of the pages were still in black and white except for the senior pages.

"Mike Newton," I said, pointing at his senior picture. "You looked so good back then, Gramps."

"Hey, I still look good," he joked, and we shared a laugh.

"You kinda look like Michael, Gramps. Ooh, look at that one," I said. "She looks like she's in shock," I teased.

"Lauren. She used to be friends with my old girlfriend, Jessica Stanley," he remembered.

"Yeah? What was she like?" I asked.

"She was nothing like your grandma, of course, but she was one of my good friends. Until we broke up, that is. I wonder what she's doing now."

"Dinner's ready!" I heard Michael call out. I was too busy sulking in my room to welcome him home. He was the brother I didn't loathe.

We got together at the dinner table, sharing stories from the college boys, and remembering the good ol' times when life was a little less harder. We recalled the days when Gramps was a child, when he first met Gram, what funny things happened at the hospital where my dad was born, and what enjoyable things my brothers get to do in their new dorms. We also talked about Michael's new girlfriend, and Chad's failing grades. Ha. Then it was my turn to share my first-day-of-school story to the rest of the family. So then I did, telling them what I already told Gramps.

"Anything else, honey?" Mom asked, looking at me as if Steve was all of a sudden my bad-boy boyfriend.

"Uhhmmm..." I thought for a moment, wondering what else I could share with them. Then the marvelous-looking family came into mind. "Oh, yeah. I saw these weird people at school today."

"Brooke, when you're in high school, everyone's weird. Even you. Don't worry. College is even better," Michael said, grinning.

"No, but they were really different, like, perfect-different. They're all going out, but they're all siblings."

"Yeah, right," Chad doubted.

"Seriously. The Cullens are perfect and bizarre like that."

Gramps noisily put his fork down, staring at me. "Did you say 'Cullens'?" he asked, his voice grave and lost into a recollection of memories.

"Uh, yeah. You know them, Gramps?"

"Well, I remember I knew a couple of kids by that name when I was in high school. Yes," he said his voice far away from the present. "I remember them. Isabella..." He looked back at the faces on the table. "I went to her wedding, and that was the last time I saw her. Married, fresh outta high school. I never knew her to be that kind of girl, married almost right after graduation, but if you're talking about the Cullens that I'm thinking about, then I guess I don't blame her. The Cullens were the talk of the town, back when I lived in Washington. And so was she. The new girl from Arizona. Yes, yes, I remember."

"Maybe that's their grandkids," I suggested. "Would the Cullens ever think to adopt?" Steve had said that Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had foster kids. Maybe Gramps knew Dr. Cullen's parents, and maybe we could make some sort of generation party for them.

"The Cullens were adopted. That's what made them so strange."

"It must be them. But they're like...really gorgeous, Gramps. They adopted some good-looking people. There's this Bella girl. She's like, a model, or something. And her boyfriend is perfect! Ed—"

"Bella? Did you say Bella?" he interrupted frantically.

"Why? What's wrong, Dad?" Mom asked, concerned.

"What's her last name?" he asked me, not paying attention to my mom's worried question.

"Well, she's a Cullen, but they adopter her. Her name's Bella Swan."

"Bella Swan? Now, that's...impossible..." He drifted off, reminiscing something untold. "Come with me, Brooke."

He led me back into the living room, leaving the others with wide, confused eyes, and then he sat down on the couch again. When I sat next to him, he was already flipping through the yearbook's pages, searching intently for something.

"There she is. Isabella Swan."

"What? Is she Bella's mom or something?" My incredulous eyes looked at the picture. He was right. That was impossible. The Bella Swan in my grandfather's old high school yearbook was the same Bella Swan that was in the cafeteria earlier today. She didn't look another year older, and that was definitely impossible. Somehow, the Bella Swan that I saw was much more gorgeous and pale than the picture showed, and she didn't have those brown eyes anymore. Contacts? "Gramps, that's the same exact Bella I saw at my school today..."

I flipped frenziedly through the book, hoping I wouldn't find what I was looking for. But there it was. Edward Cullen and Alice Cullen, looking just as they did at lunch. I looked at his junior yearbook, and I saw Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper. They were all there, not one day older, not one wrinkle, not one gray hair. Perfect. What did that mean?

"I always thought the Cullens were different, but I knew Bella was just an average girl. I had the hugest crush on her, I remember. Then she met Edward, and then they got married..."

"Does Bella have a sister named Renesmee?"

"No. Bella was an only child. Her dad was Charlie Swan, Chief of Police in Forks. I've never heard of that name before. But...Bella was so normal, until she got involved with Edward... What did he do to her?" he wondered.

"I don't know." But I'm going to find out.