twilight - revised

8/9/2019 Twilight - Revised

http://slidepdf.com/reader/full/twilight-revised 1/28

Author's Notes

This story is to be based off completely off the idea of Stephenie Meyer's book Twilight .

All events in this book besides the ones added, are taken and revised to allow me to explore an

author's writing strategy. If this copy was to be sold, the author of Twilight is to take credit for

the events taken from her story.



PREFACE

I'D ALWAYS HOPED THAT MY DEATH WOULD BE A PEACEFUL ONE, ONE IN SLEEP –

and even if I were given another a choice – another way to die, I would have never imagined it

like this.

The pain was unbearable, I felt it coursing through my veins, coursing through to my

arms, my legs, my head. I saw the man, the assassin, the hunter . . . whatever you would have

called him if you had met him. He grinned pleasantly at me, flashing his celebrity white teeth

at me.

I wondered how I could have been so thoughtless to waltz right into here unknowing,

unprepared for what I was about to do. And now I paid the price, but what I received in turn

was so much more satisfying. To know that I could have prevented a death by placing myself

in the hands of danger made me feel powerful, but at the same time weak. All the words came

up in mind when I tried to describe how I felt right now. Noble, courageous,

honorable . . . stupid.

I knew that if I'd never gone to to live with Jon in one of the rainiest towns in America,

I wouldn't be facing the unspeakable horrors I saw now. I would be at home, at Texas, sunny

Texas, my Texas. But, even Texas could not bring myself to regret making the decision to

come to live with Jon. I was given a rare offer, I thought, a rare offer that every person gets in

their lifetime, and mostly decline. Rare offers sound like terrible ones, they make you feel like

what you have at the present is enough, is satisfying. I knew that accepting the rare offer

would lead to a worse life for me, and I was right . . . or so I thought.

The assassin, the hunter, smiled in a friendly way as he leaned over my face to end my

life.

< 1 >



1 . Quillayute

M Y MOTHER BEGGED AND BEGGED ME NOT TO GO, TO STAY WITH HER, SO THATI would not have to go to Quillayute, but I kept telling her that I was fine. It was a hundred

and one degrees in Texas, the air dry and dusty, the sun scorching on my back. My mom

wouldn't let me wear my favorite shirt – a thin-sleeved with a red embroidery.

In the forests of Washington, a largely populated town Quillayute exists under a cover

of clouds. It rains on the town more than any other place in the United States of America,

besides Forks. It was from this town where I was born, under the gloomy, gray sky, where my

mother left my father when I was a few weeks old. It was there, where I had been forced to

visit to spend a month every summer and winter until I was thirteen. That was the year I

decided that I couldn't take the gloomy-gray sky of Quillayute. That would be the last time my

dad, Jon, would see me, until now.

< 2 >



I detested Quillayute, its gray sky, its rainy weather. The very thought of it drove me

sick. I was already missing Texas, even though I hadn't left yet. I loved the weather, the dry

weather. There was no one to blame but me, I'd decided to move to Quillayute, and my mom

tried to stop me.

“Liz,” my mom said to me. I knew she was about to tell me the thing she'd told me

hundreds of times already. “Why are you going? You know you don't like Quillayute.”

I shared a few noticeable features with my mom. My eyes were a dark shade of brown,

coffee brown, which matched my dark, black hair. My mother's was also long, but not as long

as mine, and her eyes were a little bit darker than mine, but people couldn't tell by first glance.

Only my close friends in Texas could tell.

“Mom, I need to go. Dad needs me,” I lied. Like my dad, I was bad at lying, but my

mom didn't notice anymore. She'd heard me say it so frequently that it sounded convincing to

her now.

“All right, call me if you need help, or some girl time.”

“Don't worry mom, it's a largely populated town, I'll have a bunch of friends there.”

“I'll come visit,” she said, reassuringly. “You come home whenever you want – I'll be

there if you need me.”

“Don't worry about me,” I urged, “I'll have a lot of fun, love you.”

“I love you too, sweetie,” and she hugged me tightly for what seemed like to be forever, but I needed it.

I could see the tears in her eyes when we parted, and my insides just melted.

“Bye Mom.” I choked. I was bad at concealing my emotions, like my dad, and with a

wave, I turned and got on the plane.

I lost count of the hours as I was on the plane. It could have been three hours, or four hours, I

didn't know. When the pilot finally announced on the speakers that we were to get off, I

sighed in relief. Jon was waiting outside the airport, dressed in a white t-shirt with a black

leather jacket to top it off. He smiled happily and waved for me to come. He hugged me but

not tightly as my mom did and took my bags.

< 3 >



“It's good to see you Lizzy,” he said, smiling as he and I approached his car. He opened

the trunk and put my bags in, one at a time, glancing at my face each time he did.

“You haven't changed much at all, how's Michelle?”

“Mom's perfectly fine. It's really nice to see you too, Dad.”

I brought only a few bags. Most of my clothes at home were short-sleeved and

sleeveless. Mom and I had spent a lot of our time hunting for winter clothes to supply for my

permanent stay at Quillayute. All of the bags fit easily into the back of Jon's trunk.

“I have news that you might find interesting,” he announced as we got into the car.

“What kind of news?” I asked suspiciously. Most interesting news Jon had to say didn't

really appeal to me all the time.

“I got us a new home, in a different town. I sold the old house,” he said really quickly. “I

know how much you don't like Quillayute, so instead, I bought a home at Forks.”

My mouth dropped as I froze, staring at him. What kind of horrors would he bring

now?

“T-That's cool dad,” I stammered. “How big is it?”

“Oh you'll love it,” he said excitedly. “It's just as big as our old home, and cheap too . . .”

Jon's voice faded away as I drifted into my thoughts. I already had friends in

Quillayute. Well . . . once actually, but I really liked her. She moved from Texas too, and we

really bonded during my stays at Quillayute. I remember how we used to talk about the hot,

beautiful sun, the sunburns, and everyday swims.“I know how Angelique will miss you, so I told her to visit us anytime.” Jon's voice

suddenly loud again.

“Huh?” I asked stupidly.

Jon looked confused.

“Won't you miss Angelique?” He asked, seeming to question my sanity in a funny way.

“Oh, yeah I do,” I said smiling. “I really do, um, how soon can she visit?”

“As soon as I finish unpacking your things and you've been at high school for a week.,”

Jon answered.

< 4 >



“Cool,” my eyes turned to the road.

“Dad!” I screamed, “Red light!”

“Jesus -,” and Jon slammed on the breaks. The tires screeched in agony as we came to a

stop right at the line.

My heart raced wildly as I tried to calm myself down. Cars were zipping past each other

in front of us.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“I-It's fine, dad, we're all right.” I stammered. I brushed my hands across my chair to

rub the sweat off my palms.

An awkward silenced coated itself within the car. It was almost twenty minutes later

until Jon finally spoke again.

“Lizzy, er, I got more news,” he said hesitantly.

More news? A new house was already enough, I didn't know how much I could take.

“What's the new news?” I asked, trying to look happy. I failed.

“I know how much you like slow cars, I completely understand why you're scared of the

fast ones,” he announced. “So, I found you a nice truck, and in mint condition.”

“What kind of truck?” I asked, interested. I loved trucks. Fast cars always made me feel

like I was going to hit something. I could picture myself flying out the car as I hit a large RV.

My blood would be all across the black top, and cars racing by would roll over me.

I shuddered in horror.“What's wrong?” Jon asked, worried. “You don't like trucks anymore? I completely

understand, I'll sell it and buy you a car that you want.”

“No!” I claimed reassuringly, waving my hands in front of my face. “I completely adore

trucks, I was just thinking of how great it was for you to buy me one.”

“Really?” He said, looking slightly pleased. Slightly.

“Yeah!” I said enthusiasticly. “I'll be able to get into accidents without flying out

windows, as long as I have my seat belt on.”

Jon chuckled me.

“So how did you get it?”

< 5 >



“Well, do you remember our friend down in Forks before?”

“Yeah! I remember.”

I had no idea who he was, or what I did with him.

“Well, just in case you forgot, we used to fish a lot, and fix up some cars, and once in

awhile he'd help me bust some bad guys.”

Jon was a cop, well he was a Chief of Police, but since he bought us a new house, I

wasn't so sure anymore.

“His name's Jack,” Jon continued. “He got a new truck, so he decided to give it to us

cheap. It was a beauty back then when he was young. He and I would take it out for a spin

when we were seventeen.”

“Wait what? It's 25 years old?”

“Well, no. He bought it in 1981 and worked on it a lot back then. I think it was made

back in the sixties or fifties, it's a nice Chevy.” He admitted sheepishly.

Well on the up side, it was a Chevy.

“Wait, Chevy's a good truck right? They make good trucks?”

I felt stupid for asking. I didn't particularly care about the car as long as it was a truck

and it was sturdy. He didn't answer.

“Dad, I don't really know a lot about cars. I mean, I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything

went wrong, and I can't really afford to pay someone to fix it . . .”

“Trust me on this, Lizzy, it runs perfect. I've never seen a truck built so well before.”“Well, how cheap was it?” I asked, hesitantly.

“Uh, well, it was really cheap. Only a grand.” He added quickly.

“Was”?

“ Well, Lizzy, I kinda already bought it for you?” Jon grinned hopefully at me.

Wow. Free. Did it suck that bad, enough to persuade Jon to buy it for me?

“Aw dad, you didn't have to do it, I was going to buy myself a car.”

“I don't mind really, I just want you to be happy here.” He looked away from me as he

said the last words. I knew he was bad at concealing emotions like me, but it would've been

really sweet if he expressed them. I felt my heart melting.

“Thanks dad,” I said, smiling gratefully. “I really think it's nice of you.

< 6 >



At least there was an up side coming to Forks. I had a new truck, a new house, new

clothes. Downside was I had no friends, or had no memory of this town I was headed to.

“Well, now, you're welcome,” he mumbled, embarrassed by how pleased I looked.

We exchanged a handful of comments on the town, the people there, and the weather,

which was wet. For most of the trip to Forks, I stared out the windows in silence.

It was so much more different here than Texas. They were like opposites. Over here,

everywhere I looked, everything was green: the trees, the tree trunks covered in moss, the

ground covered in grass and ferns. Even the sky above, all though gray, was kind of green.

Way too green, I thought. I felt like I was in one those movies. The movies where

humans set foot on a new planet. Oddly, it was similar to Planet of the Apes, but that was

about Earth. And Apes.

Eventually, after I felt like sitting was long enough already, we arrived at our new

house. Jon went upstairs to unpack, and I went off exploring the new house. Which, I had to

admit it looked decent. It was a small house. It had two bedrooms. One for me, one for him.

All the items from Jon's marriage and my mom's were present. They were all positioned in

order, just like at the old house. Actually, the rooms looked extremely like the ones back at the

house.

“J – Dad!” I yelled.

He came running from my room, disheveled.

“Yeah, Lizzy? What is it?” He asked worried.“Why do all the rooms look exactly like the rooms from our old house?”

I wasn't exaggerating. The position of the rooms, how my room was right across from

his room. The bathroom right between them, and the stairs closer to his side. Even the kitchen

looked the same.

“Well,” he said, embarrassed. “I thought to make you feel more at home, I bought a

house that was kind of modeled after ours.”

Remorse gripped my chest. Jon had gone through all this work to make me feel a little

better about staying with him. He knew how much I had hated Quillayute, the large

population and rainy weather didn't seem to fit together. So he bought a house in a small town

with a small population, a house with almost the same exact features as from our home in

Quillayute.

< 7 >



I shuffled my feet, unable to find the right words for the situation.

A second passed.

Two seconds.

Three.

I finally recovered and said, with a choked voice, and tears brimming in my eyes. I was

swimming in a lake, I knew it. My emotions were all mixed. My hands gripped the sides of my

jeans as I spoke.

“T-Thanks s-so much dad.”

His eyes grew soft, now that he knew that I hopefully, grateful.

“Well,” he murmured quietly. “Wanna see the truck?”

I looked up in excitement. I'd completely forgotten about the truck he'd got for me.

“Yeah, let's go.”

“Well, you kinda missed it on the way in, I thought it wouldn't be hard to miss,

considering I parked it on our driveway.”

I was just walking down the stairs when he said that when I froze. Imissed the truck?

Oh boy.

“Let's go.” I whispered.

We stumbled out in the yard, both of us. Jon was every bit as clumsy as I was.

“Well, there it is,” he murmured.

But I wasn't paying attention. My eyes were focused on the truck in front of me. Itlooked like it was refurbished. Maybe because it was refurbished. Breathless, and amazed, I

walked alongside it, brushing my fingertips along the rusted door. My hands wandered toward

the door handle, it looked so nice, shiny, I thought. The instant I made contact with it, I knew

this was my car, my truck, all mine, but something else happened that I never expected.

“Ow!” I cried, jumping back a few steps, glaring at the door handle.

Jon started laughing at my sudden surprise. “Hilarious!” he managed to say.

“It's not funny.” I complained, looking at him fiercely.

“I'm sorry, hon,” he said grinning, trying to conceal his laughter. He was doing poorly.

I looked back at the door handle, curious. Then I remembered. My fingertips, the door,

the sudden burst of electricity into my arm.

“I was shocked?” I cried incredulously, turning to him.

< 8 >



“Yup,” Jon said, tears coming down the side of his face.

I shook my head and looked away from him. It was still perfect, I thought. But how

does it start? Worry gripped me, holding me as I extended my hand once more to open the

door. I knew Jon was watching me, secretly hoping I would be shocked again. My hand

grasped the door and yanked it open. The smell of leather waxing and cigarettes poured out.

“Oh gross!” I said, flinging my hands in front of me in a wasted attempt to stop the

smell from coming out.

“Here let me help you,” Jon said, joining me. He pulled a can from the side door and

sprayed the inside of the truck. “Thing might be refurbished, but it still smells like Jack.”

I rolled my eyes and stared into his black eyes carefully.

“What?” he asked, curious.

“I didn't get shocked,” I stated, grinning.

And he burst into his fit of laughter, again.

“Let's see how it starts, dad?”

“All right, here's the keys, oh wait . . . give me a moment,” and he ran into the house. I

heard the kitchen drawers opening and closing, and Jon's frustrated grunts every few seconds

or so. Then, a cry of victory, and Jon came walking out of the house, smiling widely. I'd never

seen him so happy to find a piece of metal. Last time, he was looking for metal was when he

dropped a nail while hammering a new shelf to the wall. The nail fell down behind the chair

pointed up. Jon had thought that it fell underneath the cabinets, and sat down on top of thenail. That scream would never get out of my head.

I was interrupted in my thoughts when I heard a chainsaw go off, and I raised my head.

“Oh,” I exclaimed in surprise, eyes widening.

It wasn't a chainsaw. It was my car being started by Jon. It had eased down into a

steady, rhythmic hum that sounded like a jackhammer on concrete – but I loved it anyway.

“She's all yours, Lizzy,” my dad said, hopping out of the driver's seat.

“Thanks dad,” I said, and hugged him.

The driver's seat was open to me, all of its smells, good or bad. I took one quick glance

at Jon before hopping into the seat. I waved to my dad as I closed the car door, strapped

myself, and put the truck in reverse.

< 9 >



There was nothing like driving with the window down, feeling the cool breeze graze my

cheeks. I felt my hair blowing, in motion with the streaming wind.

“Elizabeth?” Questioned a voice as I passed by a home.

My tires screeched loudly as I slammed on the brakes.

“Elizabeth?” Asked the voice again, louder. Someone was coming. I adjusted the

mirrors on the side of the car door. It was a boy. He was probably fifteen or sixteen, one of

those – but his voice sounded like a seventeen year old. I frowned as I tried to remember if I'd

met him before.

“Elizabeth?” The voice was right outside my door. My eyes flickered toward him.

“Hey,” I greeted, putting on my friendly voice.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, hopeful.

I sighed, and told him the truth.

“Nope, I have no idea who you are.”

“Well, I guess you wouldn't know, we've only met once. Anyways . . .” he said, exhaling

dramatically. “I'm Chase.”

I'm not really good at introductions. I was introduced to most of my friends in Texas,

but that was with my mom, and Jon wasn't here now.

“I'm Liz,” I said, smiling. My hand reached out through the window to shake his.

“In case you think I'm a total stranger, my dad's name is Jack. I'm his son, Chase. I

knew you were coming by the sound of your engine. My dad and I really tried to fix it up as best as we could.”

He was a mechanic? Wow. Hope he doesn't talk about cars.

“Do you like it?” He asked, cocking his head. “I know it's old and everything, but it runs

really great. Almost like a Tacoma in a way, just way more noise.”

What's a Tacoma? Must be a truck.

“I love it,” I said, throwing on my friendly smile. “I've never seen a truck like this, and I

don't think I would want anything else.”

“Great,” he said, eyes glistening. “I'm really glad you like it. My dad and I were sitting

on the couch over there twiddling our thumbs while waiting for you to come by.”

“Really?”

“No,” he said laughing.

< 10 >



He looked at the watch on his wrist. “Oh great,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I gotta fix the

bike or my dad will get mad. I'll . . . talk to you later?”

“Yeah, totally,” I promised. He was friendly, I would have no problem talking to him.

I drove around the town in probably less than twenty minutes. There were mixes of old

and new buildings. Old grocery stores, old school, old police station. The things that were new

were the bike store, accessory stores, clothes stores, and a store with equipment for hiking.

It wasn't hard to get information about Forks High. I couldn't believe the students

attending the school were so low, but then again, I'd taken in mind that it was a small town.

Only four hundred and ninety-four – ninety-five now. Almost all the adults in the town knew

each other, and all the students knew each other. They'd all attended the same elementary, the

same preschool. I was a loner. I would be a new girl, from a big state, a hot state, an

unwelcome guest.

Being raised in Texas should have made me look like a Texan girl, but I really didn't

look like it. Jon's and Mom's skin were both naturally light, and it seemed that they couldn't

tan it. Something I thought wasn't even possible, until I noticed I couldn't get tanned either.

My body should be sporty, tanned – fit for a cheerleader or volleyball player – all the

things that would apply to a girl living in a state with hot temperatures.

I was pretty light-skinned, I admit. But it wasn't a bad thing. My slender frame fit me,

and my clothes. My sports ability was off. If a ball came toward me, I ducked. If I didn't have

time to duck, my hands would come up to ward it off. I was pretty sure that I was a threat toeveryone around me, including my coach.

I drove my car up the driveway and got out, locking the doors. As I approached the

front door of my new home, I gave an anxious glance at my car, thinking for a brief moment,

that the brakes on the truck weren't stable and that it would roll away hitting my neighbor's

car. It took me a few seconds to realize that nothing was going to happen, and I entered my

house. Jon was already on the couch watching his favorite sport, football. I couldn't get

football. I knew that football was one of America's favorite sports, and that all the girls at my

old high school really loved the tough football players, the quarterback, the men with the

muscles . . .

< 11 >



“Hey Liz,” Jon said, turning around to face me. “Whoah,” he exclaimed. “I gotta admit,

you should go up and brush your hair, I think the rain's gotten to you.”

Maybe Forks has gotten to me, I thought as I ran up the stairs. Ah the restroom, exactly

where it was like at home. First, I need a brush, I thought. The brush was probably unpacked

in the second drawer on the right side of the door if Jon remembered where I put it. I ran to

my room and made a sharp, right turn.

“Ouch!” I cried as a blinding pain erupted at the tip of my nose. There were no drawers

on the right side of the door. It was a cabinet.

Darn house, I thought.

“Liz, you all right up there?” Jon was always worrying.

“Ow,” I whispered. “Yeah I'm fine!” I yelled back.

“All right, oh yeah, did you hit the cabinet? I did that yesterday. The drawers are on the

left now.”

I suppressed a giggle and looked to my left. Ooh, there it is. I carefully pulled out the

second drawer and saw my brush.

Victory! I thought smugly, and headed to the restroom. The door closed behind me as

my foot kicked it. I looked up to the mirror and gasped.

Wow, I did look bad. Wonder what Chase thought of me. I shuddered. He must be

laughing with his dad right now, explaining to Jack that I looked like someone who came out

of a cave without food for ten days. Wow.I studied my face while brushing my hair back down. It looked paler than usual, or was

that me.

Forks was getting to me, I thought. I looked really soft. My mind could project an

image of my mother squeezing my cheeks like she did when I was only two years old.

Four hundred and ninety-four. The number suddenly busted through a locked door in

my mind. How was I going to fit in? I only had two real friends in high school. And that school

had three thousand.

I'm depleting my chances here. I knew I was awkward to people around the same age as

me. Even my best friend, Jessie, never fully was in-sync with me.

< 12 >



Sometimes I wondered if there was something wrong with me. If I had some kind of

disorder going on in my head. But I didn't care about that, not now, not when I had just

moved in.

I didn't care, all I knew was that tomorrow would be a new day, for a new life for me.

Most nights in Texas, I would sleep well. It was only during my vacations at Quillayute, or

now, Forks was when I had my nightmares. The constant wind, always whooshing the trees,

the rain, the pitter – patter of rain on the windows wouldn't leave me alone. I pulled my

thickest pillow over my head, then another pillow, too. But I couldn't sleep until I was so

exhausted, so tired, so sad, and by that time, the rain had settled into a peaceful shower.

Thick clouds blocked me from seeing the sky. My window was completely covered in

moisture. I entertained myself by making streaks across it, and exhaling my warm breath to

form more moisture. I felt like I was slowly being suffocated under a blanket, or imprisoned in

a crystal sphere with a never ending storm.

I got out of bed, got dressed, and headed downstairs. Jon was already at the table

eating. I checked the cabinets for food, there were only cereal and bacon.

So breakfast was plain, I had some milk and pops, nothing quite interesting to eat. Jon

wished me good luck at school, and left to get a job at the police station.1 hour until school

would start, until hell would start, and I would be there, with no one to guide me. I stared out

to my truck. I should have covered it in a waterproof blanket last night. It was old, and raindidn't help it.

I sighed and took my plate to the sink, along with Jon's. It took less than a minute to

get them cleaned and put into the rack for drying. What to wear, I thought. My wardrobe

wasn't really fashionable. Mom and I just put together our resources and bought as much

wintery outfits as possible to keep me warm. We didn't really look at the style, and now that

I'd noticed it, they all looked pretty bad. A groan escaped my throat. My hands did all the work

for me, browsing through sweater after sweater, jacket after jacket, until I had myself one of

each: jacket, sweater, and jeans. No need to look too fancy on my first day, people will think

I'm desperate or something.

< 13 >



As I changed, my eyes quickly stole a glance at the electronic clock posted next to my

bed.

7:15 A.M it read. What? 7:15? School starts in fifteen minutes! I sprinted down the

stairs, and out through the front door, tripping on a sandal my dad left outside. I struggled to

keep balance as I approached my car, unlocking it with the key I had grabbed from the top of

my drawer.

Twelve minutes . . . I put my car in reverse and sped back, nearly hitting the mailbox.

“Oh gosh,” I groaned, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Taking it slower, I

backed out of the driveway and drove off to school. Fortunately, I didn't have any

interruptions on the way to school. Unfortunately, I was late. My heart was pounding loudly

as I approached the office door. A sudden rush of air blew and opened the doors for me. I

stood there, looking surprised and stupid probably, to the lady in the front.

“How may I help you?” she asked. My thoughts were that she was fifty to sixty years

old. Her withered hand grabbed the attendance record and schedule chart simultaneously.

“I-I'm sorry,” I apologized, “for being late. I just moved into town, my name is . . .”

But the woman didn't let me finish.

“Ah, I know, you must be Elizabeth Adams,” she said smiling at me. “Your father must

be Jon Adams.”

The old woman laughed at the name, obviously referring to our second president of theUnited States. I didn't find it amusing, because I'd heard of it so often.

“Yeah, that's me,” I smiled, trying to look happy to the woman, after all, she was trying

to be nice.

“Well, dear, your first period will be . . .” she said, flipping through the pages of a giant

book. How could it be giant? There only were 595 students attending the school.

She seemed to notice my curious stare, and answered,

“Oh, I know, right? This book is so big for such a small school. It's because we also

combined personal information along with part of the yellow book.”

< 14 >



“Oh, okay.”

“Ah there we are,” she stated. “Here's your schedule, your first period is physical

education.” She handed me a sheet of paper. At the top of the paper, in finely printed words,

wrote,

Student ID: 140356

Schedule

And below had the list of my classes in order by period number.

• Period 1. Physical Education : Gym

• Period 2. Biology : Room 34

• Period 3. Trigonometry : Room 38

• Period 4. Spanish 3 : Room 35

• Lunch

• Period 5. Social Studies : Room 42

• Period 6. Literature : Room 43

• Period 7. Band : Room 67

Why'd P.E have to be first? I would've preferred it to be right before lunch, so that I could

replenish my energy. Groaning silently in mock pain, I thanked the woman, and left to the

Gym.

When I'd arrived, they were already started on sports. Everyone was playing volleyball.

Volleyball. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My first day and we're playing volleyball? I

groaned in despair and that caught my new coach's attention.

< 15 >



Stephanie. At least it sounded better than my name. Elizabeth. Lizzy. Liz.

“I'm Elizabeth,” I said, smiling. “But, please call me Liz.”

“All right.” And she turned back to the game.

It wasn't all that bad really. After awhile, my team could notice I wasn't a star at

volleyball, and began to cover most of my shots.

“Liz, watch out!” Stephanie screamed, right before the ball smacked me on the top of

my head. I sat there, looking stunned and dazed. The coach blew his whistle, but I could

barely hear it, everything sounded very faint.

“Back away,” he commanded, and all students surrounding me slithered away.

“Eh, she just got hit in the head, it'll be all right,” he confirmed rubbing the tip of my

head with a reassuring voice.

I could hear Stephanie sigh in relief.

“Here,” she said, offering a hand. I took it gratefully, thinking that I probably couldn't

get up on my own.

“On the up side, only three more periods to go before lunch,” I mumbled. She laughed

and took me to the locker room, where she told me all about the school while we changed.

It turned out that Biology would be switched with Band, so now I had Band for second

period. The coming periods weren't so hard to bare, with Stephanie there supporting me. It

turned out we had the same classes. I made sure to pick a seat next to her, and the teachers

didn't call on me at all, maybe because I was new.“Stephanie,” said Mr. Banks, glaring at her. “Please read line fifteen on the page.”

“Um, what page is that?” She asked, sheepishly.

Mr. Banks' glare at her grew more frightening. “Page four hundred and eighty-three.”

I could hear her flipping through the pages at top speed until she found it, and began

reading.

“Spanish language is a major part of the world's language . . .”

Spanish class was probably the most difficult, Mr. Banks was extremely strict.

Stephanie didn't try to talk to me for the rest of the period. After Spanish was done, I headed

for the cafeteria, passing through the parking lot. I could see my truck in plain sight. It was the

oldest vehicle in the whole school, I thought. My eyes traced over different types of cars, cars I

didn't know the brand of, until I saw one I did recognize.

< 17 >



A Ferrari? Whoah, I thought. Who's got cash to spend on a car that great?

“Uh, hey Liz!” Stephanie called from behind me. “Wanna go get a burger?”

“Sure,” I said, tearing my eyes away from the Ferrari. That was one of the few

exceptions I had to fast cars.

“Staring at the Ferrari?” Stephanie asked, grinning.

“Yeah, who has that kind of money?”

She flipped her black hair, and her blue eyes bore into mine.

“Allen,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He owns the car, a lot of the girls like him, but he

never seems interested.”

“Ah,” I said, distractedly.

“You should see him, he looks ridiculously hot.”

“Ah,” I said again. I never really fell for hot guys. They might be good looking, but their

personalities were also on a different level than mine.

“Uh, Liz?”

“Yeah?” I said looking at her.

“The burger line is, that way,” she said, pointing at a line to our right and rolling her

eyes at the same time.

I was heading left. “Oops.”

Lunch wasn't as bad as I thought. Most of the wandering eyes at gym were all present,

and now that they learned a little about me, they didn't care much. Conversations buzzed inand out of my ear.

“Did you watch the World Cup?”

“Did you watch Germany vs Spain?”

Did you? Did you? Did you? Did you?

I was getting annoyed already. I was sitting next to Stephanie, and she was talking to a

few of her other friends: James, Edwin, Michael, Estella.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw one group not making a conversation. Six of

them, there were. Sitting on the opposite end from where I was. They were all staring away

from each other, one was staring at the floor, another at the table, another out the window,

one at a group of people, another at the teacher. . .

< 18 >



“Hey, Steph,” I called Stephanie by her new nickname. She turned away from her

laughing friends.

“Yup? What's up?”

“Who are they?” I asked, glancing at the six. Stephanie caught where I was looking at.

She giggled, “See the one in black hair, all black? That's Allen.”

I stared at Allen for a few seconds. He was preoccupied by a book in his hands.

“What about the others?” I asked, curiously.

“Well, the girl in the short, cropped, black hair is Helen. Um, the guy across from her is

Julius. The guy next to Julius is Emily.

So now I knew four of the six.

“What about the last two?”

“Oh I'm not sure,” said Stephanie, uneasily. I nudged her softly,

“You don't know?”

“Oh, well I don't hear their names often, so I'm not sure if what I'm telling you is right,”

she explained. “I think the third girl at the table is, Jane, and the third guy is Felix.” She took a

moment to think.

“Yeah I'm right,” she confirmed, looking pleased. “Jane has the blonde hair, and Felix

has the brownish hair. Julius has black hair, like Allen, but he doesn't gel it. He lets his hair

fall down over his eyes. Emily has the longest hair out of them all, just a tiny bit longer thanJane. She's the one with black hair.”

Allen. Helen. Julius. Jane. Felix. Emily.

Helen. Allen. Jane. Emily. Felix. Julius.

“I got it,” I said, grinning at her. She grinned back and looked away.

I looked back at the six, and froze.

All six were staring at me. Their eyes, all eyes black.

“Whoah,” I exclaimed, shaking my head. I must be seeing things. They weren't looking

anymore, were they even looking at me? I couldn't get it out of my mind. One moment, they

were looking, and another, they're not.

It's just Forks, I told myself, just Forks. Driving me nuts, I just haven't gotten used to

the weather. That's right.



< 19 >

I glanced back at the group again. None of them were staring at me, or given the hint

that they had stared at me. I was fine.

Wait.

There were two staring at me. Allen and Helen.

“What?” I asked myself.

“Liz,” echoed a voice.

“Huh?”

Oh, it was Stephanie's voice.

I turned to face her.

“Yeah?”

“Aren't you going to eat your food?” She asked. I looked down. My burger was

untouched, along with my bottle of water.

“Actually, I'm fine, Steph. Not really hungry today.”

Stephanie looked at me curiously, then seemed to guess what I was thinking.

“You want to know what their last names are?” She asked curiously.

What? No, that's not what I wanted to know, I want to know why they were staring! I

felt uneasy.“Well. They all have the same last names actually, they all live together.”

Six? All six lived together?

“They, uh,” Stephanie continued. “I think they're all dating one another, like, Allen goes

with Emily, Helen goes with Felix, and Julius with Jane. At least, I think that's how it is.”

I thought for a second when Stephanie mentioned Allen being with Emily, that he was

smiling. His cheek looked lifted and I saw a glimpse of white. Actually, now that I paid

attention more to that group, all six appeared to smile at the same time Stephanie mentioned

Allen with Emily. Was it a joke?

“Have they always lived here?” I asked.

“Nope,” Stephanie answered. “They've only been here for a year. More or less.”

< 20 >



“Now,” Mr. Gonzales said, narrowing his eyes at me, “everyone go to page three

hundred and forty-one.”

“Hey,” greeted a friendly voice next to me. I turned my head to the left. It was Allen.

“I'm Allen,” he continued.

“I'm Liz,” I said, giving him a friendly grin.

Mr. Gonzales cleared his throat, glaring at me. I bit my lip and felt my face blush again.

Allen chuckled and looked away.

I couldn't help but notice Allen stealing a few glances in my direction. I pretended not

to notice and looked away, at my textbook. More chuckling.

“Now, class,” said Mr. Gonzales, “we'll be dissecting frogs today, don't worry, they're

dead, just how they're supposed to be.”

The whole class gave weak laughs, here and there.

“Now, if you're wondering who, or what, your partner is,” Mr. Gonzales continued,

smiling, “this is for the girls only. Look to your left, and that will be your partner.”

It wasn't hard, he'd assigned the class boy-girl, with the exception of some, whom he

paired up personally.

“I guess you're my partner then,” Allen said, eyes twinkling. Wow, he did look really

handsome. I gulped loudly, but he didn't seem to notice.

Mr. Gonzales came walking around with equipment for us. He gave us all a piece of a

dead frog, and equipment to dissect it.“Elizabeth,” Mr. Gonzales called, “you do know how to dissect, right?”

Of course I did.

“Yup, I did pretty good at home,” I answered.

Mr. Gonzales seemed to doubt. Why me? “Well all right, I'll leave you with Allen, he

knows the most around here.”

Allen grinned. I felt my heart beating faster. How can a little smile put me off like this. I

shook my ahead. He grinned wider.

“What's so funny?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” he replied, choking on his laughter. He looked really pale, paler than me.

“Wanna try dissecting the frog now?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

< 22 >



Stephanie and I had walked to the parking lot, where she got into her car, I think a

Mercedes. I waved goodbye and turned to the front office. The door opened like magic for me

again, and I stood looking stunned, but not at the door this time.

Allen was standing near the receptionist whispering quickly and lowly. Low enough

that I couldn't hear him. I crept to a nearby chair to sit down, but tripped over the carpet

separating the tiled floors to the carpet. Allen froze, completely stiff now. He slowly turned to

face me, his eyes not black anymore, but red. It was like every feature about him was

enhanced to frighten me.

“Never mind,” he said to hastily the withered woman, “I see that there's nothing you

can do now, thanks so much for your time.” And walked out the door quickly without turning

back. I slowly approached the desk, feeling very cold.

“Why, my dear, you look very, very pale,” exclaimed the old woman. It was no surprise,

I felt white. “Well, I can't let myself poke around in other peoples business, can I?” She asked

herself.

“I might as well get to the point then,” the woman continued, “how was your day?”

“It was perfectly fine,” I lied, handing her my schedule and walking out the door. It was

late. Almost all other cars were gone, except for employees working at the school. I felt a pang

of relief as I got into my truck. My eyes stared blankly into the distance until I grew even more

cold, cold enough to require my heater, so I turned my key and drove to Jon's, fighting tears

the whole way there.

< 24 >



2 . Better or Worse

THE NEXT DAY WAS BETTER . . . AND WORSE.

It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were dense. It was easier

because I knew what to expect at high school. Stephanie would be there waiting to say hi. The

blond hair kid would trail behind her, also saying hi . I began to remember a few of Stephanie's

friends. Like Estella and James.

It was worse because I was tired; I couldn't sleep with the rain coming down harder

than ever, and the wind coming back to torment me. It was worse when teachers finally

started picking on me now that I'd been there for more than a day. It was miserable because

the coach had seen my lack of effort in volleyball, and decided to put me in the front lines,

where the ball always came to me. And it was worse, because Allen wasn't at school.

< 25 >



I had a good idea what was coming next, I could feel it. I knew what was coming up,

and I was prepared to support Stephanie no matter what, even if I'd known her for a day.

“And he wasn't there!” She said, like it was impossible.

What? She lost me. Obviously. Wasn't it supposed to be like he was mooching on

another girl?

“Wait, what?” I asked, incredulously. Stephanie looked sheepishly at me.

“I'm sorry, Liz, for making you panic like that.”

She really did look very sorry. I could feel the insides melting again. Again.

“It's all right,” I assured. “Why don't you just ask him at lunch now?”

Stephanie gasped at my words. “You're nuts! That's so not romantic in anyway.”

How is asking someone out near a burger line romantic? You can do it in the cafeteria

with more flare. I could picture her getting up on the lunch tables and explaining her

emotions. The burger line? He'd probably be more interested in getting a snack for class.

“I guess you're right,” I sighed, almost dramatically.

“Hey, girls.” Michael had just approached us.

“Hey, Mike,” Stephanie cried, hugging him. “What's up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” his eyes flickered toward me. “I was just wondering if you were up

to go to the beach with a few friends? I mean, Liz can definitely come, consider her invited.”

Stephanie glanced at me, and saw the confused look in my eyes.

She hesitated before saying, “um . . . I'm not sure yet, I still have to check up with my parents, I keep forgetting to tell them.”

“Oh all right,” and with another glance at me, Michael walked away back to his group of

friends.

“I think he likes you,” Stephanie whispered as soon as he was out of range. I snorted.

“Him? I doubt anyone would like me, just a plain outsider.”

She flinched at my words.

“Sorry,” I apologized.

“Oh, no it's fine,” she said, smiling. “Revenge for what I put you through a few minutes

ago. I grinned gratefully. I glanced over to Allen's table again.

twilight - revised

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