Taking a page from vjgm's disclaimer, and I recommend any other fanfic authors do the same, just to be safe!

Stephenie Meyer owns any Twilight characters that may appear in this story. The remainder is my original work. Copyright 2009 by Gondolier. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.

Sincere thanks to my extremely talented Twilight beta and authoress in her own right, EclipsedbyJacob—read her fic Changing Sides, and her new one, Breaking Ties. It's thrilling and shmexy and oh so deliciously twisty.

I'm not sure yet if an M rating will be warranted. For now, it's T. And here...we...go…

Prologue

Hydraulic Level 5 [WORKING TITLE]
Draft 1.1
© 2009 Edward Cullen

1. THE REAL SPOONS VAMPIRES

"If you're going to be a vampire, Isabel, you need a 'V' name. Vampires only have names that start with 'V'."

Daisie planted two delicate hands on her hips and scowled at the younger girl with the ferocity of a nine-year-old diva. Why did Isabel always tag along with them to Spoons Creek? And today she had a toddler in tow, no less. Somewhere behind her she heard Lacy, the little neighbor girl, squeal as Evan swung her over the stream, now swollen cold with rainwater.

"Okay. I'll be Victoria Vampire."

"Nope, Carrie's usually Victoria."

"But Carrie isn't here," Isabel countered.

"Doesn't matter."

Isabel tapped her chin, the way her mother did when she was thinking (which was rather sporadic). "Vivian Vampire?"

"You can't be Vivian! I'm Vivian." Daisie felt a tug on the cornhusk plait that hung down the middle of her back, followed by her brother's smug voice.

"I thought you were Vella."

She swung around and landed a slap just beneath his ribs, enough to make him wince. "Shut it, Tony! My name is Vivian."

"I'm not Tony, I'm Veee-go."

Isabel giggled as Tony crossed his eyes, twirling a crazy-finger behind Daisie's back. She reached up and swept a grimy hand through his wild hair, bleached copper by days spent outdoors. He jerked his head away. She knew he would, but she still had to try. His hair was so soft, like cat fur, even though the wind had knotted and tangled it to the point where it'd snap brush bristles.

"Hmmm. Violet?" Isabel suggested.

"Violet's a nice name," Tony said thoughtfully.

She gifted him with a sheepish grin, her tongue poking through the gap where her front tooth had been.

Tony smiled back, green eyes holding brown. His mother had called them her "apple eyes." On his first day of kindergarten at Chicago's Oak Park Prep, she'd walked him to his alphabet-covered classroom, smoothed down his cowlick and said "love you, Apple-eyes." Mortified, he'd hastily swiveled away and scanned the other children to see if they'd heard. She laughed and rose from her silk-clad knees, wistfully touched his cheek in a silent 'be good,' and left. He had been good, dutifully organizing his crayon box, paper pad, and gym sneakers in his cubby hole while, at the opposite side of the room, baby-faced boys tossed each other around and girls screeched. He'd never really had much of a chance to make friends with any of them. Kids were as odd to him as scratch-n-sniff stickers or blue food.

At least until he moved to Spoons.

Tony looked back at Isabel, whose smile had been replaced by a furrow too sad for any seven-year-old. And then he realized that her frown simply mirrored his own.

"Let's do this," he commanded, shaking off memories of his mother. "Pay attention, Isabel—you don't know the rules yet. Boys on that side of the stream, girls on this side. Stream is no-man's land. You fall in, you're toast."

"What if I get pulled in?" Isabel asked, eyeing the creek warily.

Tony smirked. "That's the point."

"Oh."

He untied his sneakers, knotted the laces and swung them over his shoulder, wading through the frigid creek with a cringe. The moss-coated trees were thicker on this side, easier to climb—that's why he'd chosen it.

"Evan—er, Victor!" Daisie shouted, hands cupped over her mouth.

The robust boy downstream turned toward them, a squiggling Lacy still hanging from his arms.

"We're starting, and Vigo needs the muscles. He's so getting staked without you!"

"Hey!"

Daisie simpered at her brother. "You're kind of a runty vampire."

"I'm bigger than you!"

"Yeah, if you count your hair."

"Cut it out, Daisie!" Isabel jutted her chin out, daring the older blonde girl to cross her.

"Make me, baby."

Evan bounded through the creek and broke up the stare-down as waves splashed over his sandals, clouding the water with sand and gravel. He swung Lacy down next to Isabel, playfully punched Daisie's shoulder, then hopped over to the boys' side of the stream.

"You're mine, Daisie Creston," he said darkly, eyes narrowing as he crouched across from the girls.

"My name's Vivian," she hissed back, poised for an attack.

Tony folded his arms over his chest, nodding to Lacy. "You'd better set her over there by the picnic blanket, clear of the fighting. Once the game starts you're going down, Violet Vampire."

"You're just a kid. I can take you."

"You think so?"

"Yup." Isabel made a fist, showing off her pale, scrawny arms. Tony snorted.

There was a suspenseful countdown to one and the fight began. For a good half hour, the children splashed and snarled at each other like vicious vampires, grabbing t-shirts and playing tug-of-war with each other's limbs. Each team retreated only to regroup in their tree hideaways or to entertain Lacy, who toddled between them, a blur of black hair and chubby legs.

Isabel watched Tony and strategized, waiting for just the right moment. She had sustained a small tear in the hem of her shirt, a scraped knee, and a soaked bum from an embarrassingly awkward fall in the stream. But she held out until he bent over next to the water's edge, rubbing life back into his chilly toes.

She didn't think. She lunged.

Tony loosed a stunned yelp as Isabel pummeled square into his side, sending them both tumbling into the creek. Isabel's head dipped under and she sputtered when icy ribbons wrapped around her, freezing her clothes to her body. Rolling guffaws filled the air above them as Evan and Daisie hunched over, pointing at Tony still flailing in the stream.

"Dude," Evan gasped between laughs, "you got tackled by a girl. And she's two years younger!"

Tony scowled and pushed her off of him, scrambling to his feet…then fell again.

"Wha…what the…" he shivered.

Laughing, Isabel hopped up next to him and thrust out a hand. "Told you I could take you." And then her laughter quieted as tears began to well in Tony's green eyes. He furiously slapped her hand away and swiped at his cheek.

"Tony…"

"Leave me alone," he growled, this time making it to his feet. Stomping out of the creek, he yanked on his shoes and stalked over to the blanket to gather up his back pack and bike.

Isabel panicked. She hadn't meant to hurt him. "Please don't go! I'm sorry, so sorry. I'll let you have my Operation game—you always beat me at that, anyway."

"I don't want your stupid game!" Tony shouted, jumping onto his bike and pedaling away. Daisie and Evan watched the match with wide eyes.

"Fine!" Isabel called after him. "You're such a big baby, Tony—I'm glad I hurt you!" When he was gone, she slumped down on the blanket, pulling Lacy onto her lap and gritting her teeth against angry tears. Daisie and Evan fell down next to her, their vampire play forgotten.

"I'll let you be Vivian next time," Daisie offered, gingerly touching Isabel's elbow.

The brown-haired girl half-smiled, but it never quite spread. "It's a good thing your folks put him in Little League," she muttered. "He needs to toughen up. All he ever does is make up stupid stories like vampires in Spoons."

She flopped back down on the blanket, her creek-soaked limbs splayed out, and stared up through the web of quivering pine branches. It was then that she first began to plot how best to guard her seven-year-old heart from Tony Creston.

o o o

Char—it's a deviation from my normal work. Is there an audience for a left-field memoir or will my readers lose interest with no Violet? God, I shouldn't be doing this, she'll stake me. - EC

EC—cheeky monkey. Your readers would buy your books, even if you scrawled "sucker" on your pert ass with a Sharpie and photocopied it a thousand times. (Actually, I'd buy that…for my erotica collection…). In all honesty, it's a good start. Get me an outline with character sketches and write boy, write!

And about Violet—she's still in here. They just won't know it, they usually don't. If she hasn't staked you by now, she never will. –Char

Because I am beginning a new fic, I shall take a moment to imbibe in an uber-long A/N. I rarely imbibe.

A/N:

To my lovely POTO readers who are giving me the benefit of the doubt by actually reading my twisted lil Twilight fiction… stick with me. This is my post-thesis play-time. It'll be fun, I promise. To my new Twilight readers who know nothing about POTO or my other stuff…give it a try. You'll love it, I also promise.

As in any fandom with a large following, some twists and turns have been seen before. I will do my utmost to present my story in a fresh way. But if certain aspects have similarities with other stories, well…that's the world we write in. Unintentional, except for the whole "Twilight thing", geesh.

As always, I kindly ask that you take a moment to share your thoughts in a review. I do actually reply back—I love chatting with readers.