I'm new to creative writing. Let me know if this is awful or if I should continue. I don't own Twilight characters, but this will be a vampy story if I continue.

March 2008

Even from the access road, the base emitting from Royce's truck rattles the walls of the trailer. Dogs in the street announce the arrival of Rosalie, excusing peace from the neighbors.

I know she will stumble through the door wearing some sort of secret smile framed by candy apple matte from Walmart. Shoplifted cosmetics always appearing expensive on her face.

The walls are violent by the time Royce pulls into the yard, rap music bumping and shaking the full length mirror attached to the back of the closet door. Light from the reflecting street lamp dances across the room in a glowing-green disco and I decide that I'm not going to pretend she didn't wake me.

I roll over to plug in the string of Christmas lights hanging above our bed, my eye catching the ancient Hello Kitty alarm clock on the dresser.

3:35 AM.

At least dawn isn't creeping across the room. It's a school night.

The symphony continues in a roar of laughter and the smash of a beer bottle meeting gravel as the truck door creeks open— more laughter and the lovely sound of her voice.

"Oh, fuck off!"

And more joy, cackling and yelling.

Then came the graceful stomps and stumbles of her heals on the porch steps, a slump against the front door as she balances to take them off.

Phil is passed out in the recliner and the TV keeps him lulled in unconsciousness, but I'm sure half of the park is awake.

Now she tries to be considerate?

She attempts to tip-toe down the hall then pauses. I know that she sees the streak of light beneath the door. Caution to the wind, she covers the remaining distance quickly and swings the door open.

The secret smile is there against her flushed face with her golden hair in a wild halo. Her blue eyes are bright and glassy around her dilated pupils.

She leans back and closes her eyes, dropping her heals by her side, and smiling wider than before.

My sister— always with the grand entrance.

Her mouth forms a mischievous line as she opens her eyes and trains them on me.

"Belly Beeaan! I know you've been waiting up for me. I came through for you." She slinks toward the bed and throws herself across the foot, spreading out her arms and I notice the bag in her hand.

Taco Bell.

She is happy tonight.

When she sees that my expression hasn't changed she reaches into her bra and pulls out a sandwich baggie full of bud.

She adds quickly, "And I thought I would give you another rolling lesson."

I hate that I can feel the corners of my mouth lifting. I hate that this excites me.

"For you're information, I was studying." I retort.

This was a lie. I found myself focusing on school less and less these days.

"Whatever, 8th graders don't need to study."

"Yeah, and apparently seniors don't need to either."

I make jokes like this. She dropped out a year ago.

She giggles at my insult, reaching into the bag and tossing me a burrito— no shame in her game.

"Okay Bella, sorry I'm not another brick in the wall." She retorts.

I watch my sister strip down to her underwear, revealing the thorned rose inked across her shoulder on a backdrop of flawless tan. I grow jealous of her as I recall dabbing toothpaste on a pimple earlier in the evening.

But only for a moment.

She works her way around the room, bringing it to life. A candle is lit with her favorite Marylyn Monroe lighter, while she fiddles with the boom box. Low, angry music floats through the air as she she plucks a cigarillo from her jewelry box sauntering back to the bed.

"Alright Bells, so I think the key to a good blunt lies within the split. This is why you should grow your nails out."

I watch as her paint chipped, sparkling nails work their way down the paper, the innards falling onto the magazine below. She constructs the blunt with the keen eye of an artist, licking the paper, lighting it with care, concentrating on this more than she would anything.

The embers make her face glow as the blunt ignites. She finishes with a French inhale and passes it.

I grab the blunt eagerly and inhale. I choke until tears run down my face and the ringing in my ears drowns out Rose's laughter as I keel forward to let her pat my back.

"Bella can't ha-annng" she sings, handing me a cup of water from the nightstand. I giggle, which makes me choke harder before I calm down and sit up. The room spins for a moment before it settles in a beautiful vail.

In these moments I felt like less of a child, if I ever was one. Paper had always been waiting to be perched between my fingers.

This time last year I was a Harry Potter reading seventh grader who wore D.A.R.E T-shirts. One day I woke up and I was a habitual pot smoker.

Curiosity had killed the cat.

And we laugh some more.

And I am so happy my sister didn't spend the night with Royce.

"Do you work tomorrow?" I ask after a few moments of puffing and passing.

"No, but I did get a modeling gig in Seattle."

Rose looks away as she lies. She had been an aspiring model since dropping out two years ago. I don't know where she went during these photo shoots, but I do know that I have yet to see any of her work or any of the extra cash. She insists she has invested in a manager, who I haven't met.

"Can you and Royce pick me up from school after? I'm staying for extra credit so I won't make the bus."

"Yeah," she exhales "If not I can get Angela to."

She hits the blunt a second time, skipping me, and picks some polish from her thumb with her index finger.

I don't question her lies.

She rises and walks from the bed to the window, letting the broken blinds down and tacking up the sheet that hangs around the frame— keeping her truth from peeping inside.

"After this takes off, I'll be good to take care of both of us in the next year. I can gain power of attorney so that no one else will have custody of you. Including the state." Her back is turned to me and I can't read her face "La Bella is one shit show of a restaurant. It's fucking slow right now, but I know shit is about to take off for me. We could buy a car so I could drive you to school."

Rose also insists that the modeling will buy us a new apartment in town. One that Renee doesn't have the address to.

"Bells, you better say goodbye to Rosie the waitress."

Her statement makes me frown. I was proud of her for keeping the job at La Bella. Plus, I often wondered why I hadn't said goodbye to her yet. She was an now an adult who decided against school. Nothing kept her here, sneaking past a drunk man and climbing into our bed. Nothing stopped her from purchasing an apartment in Port A with her tip money.

Except for me.

I feel a heaviness settling across my chest and I do not enjoy this feeling when I'm high.

"Oh fuck, I almost forgot!"

I'm pulled from my shadowing thoughts as Rosalie saunters to her giant bohemian hag-bag of wonders and reaches in, producing something that shines under the Christmas lights.

She comes up behind me, lifting my hair and places it around my neck. I feel the pendent on my collarbone and look down to observe it.

A silver Tinker Bell with a green gem dress and a small sparkle at the end of her wand. The necklace looks fake yet lovely. Rose has an affinity for shop lifting even though she makes money, often bringing me evidence of her crimes— little gifts. She had been caught several times in her teens so she slowed down a bit in her new adulthood.

For a second, I wonder if it's stolen, and in the next I don't care where it came from.

"I love it."

Tinker bell was one of her pet names for me. She had whispered it in my ear as a baby and laid me across her tiny legs to watch me suckle at the edge of a formula can.

I don't remember this of course, but she had reminded my mother in screaming arguments. She was the five year old that fed me when Renee was so toasted not even colic would stir her.

"I knew you would! And there will be more where that came from."

Warmth spreads across my chest, radiating from the necklace.

"Thank you, Rose."

Another blunt and one per-pressured sip from her flask later, she paints my nails black and we talk about Royce's cousin, Mike. He had turned fifteen tonight, motivating them to get plastered. He comes in with Royce to sit in Rose's section and stares at me as I do homework at the host stand. I can feel a tug in the pit of my stomach under his gaze but I am not sure if I like it.

Rose snorts mid description of the evening, "Dude, he would not stop asking where you were. I told him to keep his dick away from you. Spikey Mikey has a dumbass haircut and he's too old for you."

"I'll be fourteen this year!" I blush.

"My point exactly."

I smile and forget what we were talking about.

She's far from sober and still manages to draw a perfect white heart across my right thumbnail. I observe the same amount of concentration that went into rolling the blunt.

There is a bit of brightness peering beneath the sheet covered window and I yawn. She places the the nail polish on the night stand as I blow on my fingers. She grabs her bubbler from under the bed, lighting the half smoked contents and reclining.

"Morning, Tinker Bell." She smirks.

"Morning, Rose."

This is a running joke made at the end of an all nighter. Overcast sunrise stretches a little further across the floor.

"Sorry I kept you up."

And with her apology, she closes her eyes and passes out.

I'm touched in my buzzed state. Turning to Rose, I pull her cheetah print comforter over her shoulders.

"It's okay." I whisper.

My eyes make a quick sweep across her arms. No marks in site.

It is light out and I tell myself that I need to go to school. I'm too high and the sip of whiskey had not helped. Getting dressed takes a huge amount of effort, but I have a test second period.

I blow out the candle and gather the Taco Bell garbage. The bag is empty when I pick it up and I realize that she only brought one burrito home. She had gotten one just for me or sacrificed her own. The bag crumples in my hands with care as I walk down the hallway, passing Phill in the living room, still out of it.

I throw away the trash and grab a red bull from the fridge before taking a cigarette from a pack on the counter, tucking it safely behind my ear. I can smoke it on the way to my bus stop.

As I'm leaving, I notice the open bedroom door. I walk down the hallway to close it, pausing when I see that Rose has rolled over and is looking at me under low lids.

I wave and she smiles one more pretty smile before ducking back underneath the comforter.

I'm jealous that she will continue to sleep, and for a moment I'm tempted to say "fuck it" and lay back down beside her. But instead I close the door gently, and leave for school.

If I could go back in time, I would of crawled back into bed and held her. I would of let her heartbeat be my lullaby. I would of known what happened next.