Hey there, everyone :) I just wanted to take a quick second to apologize for some of the grammar and other structural mistakes present in this story. I originally wrote it when I was like thirteen or fourteen, and when I uploaded it onto Wattpad for the first time I only checked over a quick time and added some things before I uploaded it. So any mistakes is probably a blast from my early teen writing self, and I apologize because those were some scary writing times haha.

Thanks anyone who is reading for continuing to read Que Quowle (Stay With Me Forever), and yeah, I hope you like this chapter :)

-Sofia

Maxine's POV

"Today, I close the door to the past,

open the door to the future,

take a deep breath,

step on through and

start a new chapter in my life." -Unknown

I wake up the morning covered in sweat. I'm still wearing my clothes from last night, and the blankets that were once on the bed are now on the floor.

It's Sunday and tomorrow I start school at La Push High School. It's November, so I basically have to start my sophomore year three months into the school year. I can only imagine the comments kids would say behind my back. What freak starts school three months into the year? They'd probably think I was all high and full of myself because I'm originally from New York. The clothes Rose bought me sure didn't hide that.

Sighing and running a hand through my bedhead, I hop out of bed and walk into the bathroom connected to my bedroom. I immediately walk over to the mirror and stand in front of it. The baggy sweatshirt I was wearing is falling off my shoulder exposing my light blue bra strap and the black leggings hang low on my hips. My hair is a rat's nest on top of my head, long and loose even though I got it cut just a few months ago.

Running a hand again through my hair, I walk over to the shower and turn on the water to the hottest it will go. Stripping out of my clothes, I step into the shower and close my eyes as the hot water washes all over my body. I stay in the shower for a long time, making sure I wash every inch of my body and finally when my fingers turn to prunes I step out and wrap myself in a big warm towel.

I walk out of the bathroom and over to my duffle bag, grabbing a pair of skinny jeans, a warm sweater (remembering the average cold temperature in La Push), underwear, and the matching bra, and change quickly, finally comfortable when the warm sweater is on my body.

I brush through the rat's nest that is now my air and once it's fully out of knots I go downstairs and find Rose and David eating breakfast. Rose isn't singing while making breakfast as David helps her, they're just sitting at the table in complete silence. Probably still getting used to the move.

Our kitchen supplies aren't unpacked even though the movers dropped them off. The boxes with everything in them are scattered around the kitchen and living room, and I immediately notice a few marked 'Maxine's Stuff'.

Feeling uncomfortable, I grab myself a paper plate and sit at the table pouring myself a glass of orange juice. Rose and David aren't saying anything to me the whole time while we eat, and I know I should say something. How are you? Do you guys like La Push so far? What do you think of the weather? But words won't come out my mouth. So we eat in silence till we all finish and grab our separate boxes to go upstairs and unpack. Rose stays downstairs though to put things away in the kitchen.

I spend the rest of the morning unpacking my things and making my room feel more like my old one in New York. I take my mother's jewelry box, completely unharmed from the move, from out of my backpack and set it on top of my dresser in the corner of the room.

Opening all the boxes with my clothes in them, I hang them all up in my closet and finish putting the rest that didn't fit in the closet in drawers. I hang up the posters Lilly gave me and pictures of us two on my tack board and around my room, and surprisingly that makes the room seem less bare.

I put up other things to like my achievement awards and a few other things I clipped out of magazine articles and such over the years. I open another box that holds my bed stuff and make my bed, finishing it off by setting my baby blankets under my pillow so no one would see them. It not that I'm embarrassed by my baby blankets, it's just that I'm 16 now; I shouldn't need a piece of cloth to make me feel better. Yet I do.

It's nice having a bookshelf in the corner of my room to display all my books I dragged from my old home in New York. Small books, large books, books with bindings falling off, and books with bindings no longer there. Brand new books and old books I occasionally would buy from Goodwill and other thrift stores if I had a few dollars to spear. Next to the bookshelf was my bedside table where I set my alarm clock, a lamp, and a picture of Lilly and I.

Lastly, I take the picture of my mom, my dad, and I and set it next to the picture of Lilly. The photo was taken when I was young, probably two years old, and my mom held me in her arms, my dad's arms around the both of us. My mom's hair, the same color as mine, was down and long, some hanging in her face. My dad's face was nuzzled in the crook of her neck, a wide smile I'd never seen before plastered on his face. Even me with my chubby, disproportional face, looked happy. We all looked so happy.

A tear runs down my cheek, and I quickly turn away from the photograph, violently wiping away the tear to continue decorating my room. When I feel it is done and decorated enough I sit on my bed and read more from the book Lilly gave me, also listening to the music she downloaded onto my iPod for what seemed so long ago.

Once I get bored with that I grab my leather jacket, my lanyard with all my keys and buttons and key chains on it, and my cell-phone, and go downstairs. I ask Rose if I can drive around for a bit to get to know the area more and she says that's fine but to be back by dinnertime. Usually she would question me for hours before I could even leave the house, but she seemed to out of it to even ask me one question.

I walk out of the house and hop into my car. I stick the key into the ignition and hear the car roar with life. I drive out of the driveway and down a road. I don't know where I'm going, I just drive. I drive until I see the beachside that all the websites were talking about and pull into a parking spot turning off the car. I look at the temperature on my phone and it reads 30 degrees Fahrenheit.

"Great," I mumble to myself, "I'm going to have to buy more sweaters for this type of weather."

Even more sweaters. My sweater collection now is already overflowing with baggy, comfortable sweaters, and I'd have to make a mental note to go to one of the boutiques later and buy more, if I could find a boutique in this town.

My wardrobe usually consists of skinny jeans, my converse or ballet flats (even though I'm not a ballerina), my combat boots (or another type of boot), long-sleeve shirts or sweaters, and my leather jacket.

In New York I would usual wear dresses during this time in case I went out to a coffee shop or walked or biked down the streets, but In La Lush something says if I wore sweatpants anywhere I'd be fine. The summers in New York were pretty warm so my outfits then consist of shorts and a t-shirt or tank top but something else tells me I won't be wearing a tank top outside for a while or ever for that matter.

I grab my sweatshirt from the back of the car and put it on top of the sweater I'm wearing and slip my leather jacket on top of that. Finally feeling warm enough, I hop out of my car and slam the door behind me. The cold air instantly hits me like a ton of bricks, and I wrap my arms around my body as if that would protect me from the chill of the air. It doesn't.

There aren't many people because of the weather, but the people who are here are either surfing in full body swim suits or shirtless on the beach with their friends or girlfriends.

I can't help but stare at a group of probably fifteen people sitting in the middle of the beach. They all have the same russet colored skin and black hair, and I quickly assume that they were probably La Push natives.

Some of them are sitting on the beach laughing while embracing their girlfriends but a few are in the water or playing soccer. The rest are sitting on a log nearby as if they didn't belong with the rest of them. They all look like brothers and sisters, but I know they aren't, half of them are probably the same age.

Taking my eyes off them, I walk down to the sand and begin to walk along the beach, back and forth, focusing my eyes on the water, then the sand, then back to the water. My hands are in my pockets and my hood is up, something I haven't done in a while. It wasn't that I was uncomfortable; it's just that I didn't want to drive attention to myself, and I was cold.

The crashing sounds of the waves against the shore and the people laughing and talking while I kick occasional stones that get in my way make the scene I'm standing in more comfortable.

Back in New York wherever I went there were loud sounds of buses and cars, people yelling, dogs barking, you could never find a peaceful place to just sit down and read, not even Central Park.

I don't even know what I'm doing until I realizing I've been pacing back and forth still kicking stones and sand. I've left a path where I've walked, probably about an inch deep both ways.

Feeling embarrassed, I walk over to a nearby log on the far end of the beach and I sit down resting my head on my hand that was braced on my knee. I look out at the waves and suddenly I feel my eyes drifting back over to the boys fooling around at the other end of the beach.

The boys that were sitting on the sand embracing their girlfriends only seem to have their attention drawn to them. It's like they are in some sort of trance. The boys sitting on the log are looking at them, as if they are jealous or even a little angry.

The boys that were shirtless had fine toned bodies, six packs, muscles cording every inch of their bodies, typically men. I could tell even sitting down who was taller than who and who was older than who. The boys have the same short chopped haircut and all the girls have the same long shiny black hair. The youngest boy I could decipher is probably around fourteen years old, maybe a little younger.

There physique though just concerned me. The youngest boy has as much muscle as the oldest one. Are all the boys here on steroids or something? I think, That can't be natural just everyday going to the gym working out. They must have had some sort of help.

I soon feel rude for staring, so I get up off the log, and head back to my car. Before I hop into my car though, I see one of the boys give me a quick glance out of the corner of my eye. With his glance follows a million others and now there all looking at me.

Trying not to be weird I 'casually' hop into my car and turn it on. Quickly, I pull out of the parking lot and when I look in my rearview mirror I see them all still staring at me. For a split second my blue eyes meet a pair of brown ones, the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. I quickly focus my attention back on the road and drive away.

What was that? Who was that?

The questions ponder my mind all the way to my house, and only when I pull into the driveway I feel the questions dissolve into the cold winter air.

Once I'm inside, Rose asks me how my day was, and where I went, and I tell her it was good, and that I went to the beach.

"Rose, there were some boys at the beach today. What is with-" I begin but David walks in cutting me off midsentence.

"Did I interrupt something?" He asks giving both me and Rose a smile.

I frown at him, but Rose responds with, "No not at all, dear."

He gives her a smile and leans down to kiss her a quick kiss on the mouth, "So Maxine," he asks, "How are you liking La Push?"

"It's fine," I say folding my arms over my chest, "I think I'm going to head up to bed, big day tomorrow and everything."

Before they can respond by saying goodnight I'm already running upstairs to my room and out of there sight.

Once I'm inside my room I shut the door and turn on the lights. Only the dark winter night that I can see through my balcony shows any darkness throughout my room. I walk over to my desk and take out my schedule for school to look over my classes so that tomorrow I'm not completely lost:

1st hour-Biology

2nd hour-German 3

3rd hour-*Comm. Arts

4th hour-Band

5th hour-Creative Writing

6th hour-Lunch

7th hour-AP World History

8th hour-Geometry

I was only taking two advanced classes this year and those were the classes my teachers recommended for me last year as a freshman. Also, since I was taking gym online I had an extra credit which I dedicated to a creative writing class, the only class I was actually excited for.

Running a hand through my hair I ponder in my mind how tomorrow will turn out like. Awkward. Lonely. Even more awkward. It was nice that I wasn't a freshman because then people wouldn't look so down to me, but still I was the new girl all the way from New York.

I made sure I had everything ready for tomorrow before putting away my schedule, tucking it into the first pocket of my backpack.

I let out a yawn and look at my clock. 8 o'clock. It's not that it was late; it's just that I was getting tired.

I quickly change into a pair of oversized cotton sweats and a tank top and hop into bed, pulling the duvet up to my chest.

I don't know why I was so mean to David earlier. Maybe it was because he interrupted my conversation with Rose or maybe it was because I was still a little upset about moving. I don't know, but I do know that it wasn't fair of me to be rude to him like I was.

I try falling asleep but fail multiple times, so instead I take out a book and read while listening to music.

While I'm reading a page midsentence Rose comes in and sets a cup of tea on my beside table. She doesn't sit on the edge of the bed, just kisses my forehead, and wishes me goodnight and sweet dreams before leaving my room, gently shutting the door behind her.

She's probably giving me space because of how I acted toward David. Hopefully she's not mad at me.

I sigh, mark my book, and take the tea, still warm, off the bedside table, bringing it to my lips. In a few gulps it's all gone, and I set it back down on the table before turning off my bedside lamp and bringing the covers up to my chin.

It takes me awhile to fall asleep. I hum, I count sheep, I say my ABC's backwards and forwards but insomnia is getting the best of me. So instead I try to call Lilly. After about three rings her phone goes to voicemail, "Hey, it's Lilly, either I'm not at the phone right now, or I just don't want to talk to. Chances are it's the second one, but since you won't hang up the phone I guess you can leave a message after the beep."

The phone beeps, but I don't leave a message. Instead I just hang up the phone. Hearing her voice was enough for me.

Still I can't sleep, so I turn on some piano music, and sit there on my back, the covers pushed up to my chin. I stare at the ceiling, thinking about the things I thought of at the beginning of the year: Would the kids like me? Would I fit in? What if they find out what happened to me?

Then my thoughts take a total turn, and the boy I saw at the beach, the one with the most beautiful brown eyes I've ever seen, swarm my thoughts like bees to honey. Who was that? Who were they? And while those thoughts still swarm my head I begin to feel sleepier and sleepier until finally my brain beats the insomnia, and darkness finally consumes me.

Don't forget to comment, favorite, and follow this story for more updates and such. And if you want the links to some social networks where you can follow me, go onto my profile and there they all are. Thanks again so much for reading and leaving such kind words.

-Sofia