A Cullen Story
Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything Twilight or A Christmas Story related. Sadly, terribly, heartbreakingly, this includes Jasper. *Sobs*
Chapter 1: Indiana Weather
I stood in the snow on the sidewalk, my hands in my coat pockets. I gazed longingly into the shop window, past the cardboard, 'WE'RE OPEN!' sign and the display of meaningless toys and baubles.
And there it was, just as beautiful as it had been yesterday.
My Replica Stonewall Jackson Civil War Confederate Rifle BB gun.
What a beauty.
Sighing, I walked away, back to my house, which was all the way outside of town.
Okay; time out. Lemme introduce myself here.
I'm Jasper. Hi. Jasper Whitlock. I live in podunk little Indiana with my foster parents and my half-brother, Edward Mason (we're nothing alike, by the way). I like Civil War history, guns, guitar, and playing with my friends. That's another thing about me: I make friends real quick. One word: charisma.
I'm from Texas, originally. Edward was actually from Chicago (I won't go into that, it's complicated, and I don't feel like wasting the time saying it, because then someone'll ask me to go through it all over again), but our foster parents, Carlisle and Esme, live in Indiana, and so we were brought there...here...whatever.
The biggest adjustment to moving all the way to Indiana was the weather. Back in Texas, it was hot, warm, or stifling. Here in Indiana, the weather was more fickle than a house cat's mood swings (for you non-cat-people, that's pretty fickle).
Put simply: I didn't like snow. At all.
Opening the screen door to our two-story house, I walked inside, letting the door slam shut behind me. I stomped the disgusting snow off my boots and threw them by the door, doing the same with my thick coat. I hate Indiana.
"Jazzy? Is that you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, Eddie. It's me."
I smiled as I heard my half-brother Edward groaning in the next room. "Don't call me that!"
"Don't call me Jazzy," I retorted, smacking him on the back of the head as I passed by the piano, where he was sitting, practicing his stupid music. My brother is such a dork; all he wants for Christmas are a bunch of lousy piano books. I ran up the stairs as he chased me, trying to get a punch in, since he might get away with it. After all, Carlisle was at work (at the hospital; he was a doctor) and Esme was a scrabble club, after which she would go to knitting group.
Despite Edward being a dorky little kid with pale skin who doesn't like to go outside, that little sucker was fast. I won this time though; slamming our bedroom door in his face, I swaggered triumphantly over to my bed, throwing myself down on the coverlet.
After a moment I rolled over on my side to face the window, looking out with distaste at the falling white flakes.
I wonder if Mary Alice likes the snow...
I sighed in a heartsick way as I thought of Mary Alice, our neighbor and my classmate. She was small for her age, but she walked like a dancer, with short black hair and brilliant, cobalt blue eyes. Sigh.
I bet she likes the warm and sunny.
A/N: Hello, hello. I'm baaaaack. Well, if you haven't guessed it already, this is a redo of the classic movie (that my family watches almost religiously every Christmas Eve) A Christmas Story. Because Jazzy doesn't get enough love anyways.