A/N:

Hey everyone! Thanks for even reading this. I hope you enjoy it. It's my first Twilight fan fiction.

Disclaimer: Uh….don't own this.


Okay, there are things that are really annoying.

First, those who try to tell me that setting things on fire isn't fun. Let me explain. I don't set things on fire that will leave people crying, screaming, and devastated. I set things on fire that are inconsequential and pointless; like tissue paper, or food, or my brother's dumb-ass rap CD's.

My first venture into setting things on fire was when I was eight. I was playing with my older brother, Emmett, outside during the summer.

Since it was the summertime, and bugs loved the fucking heat and humidity, the yard was covered in all kinds of things to ward them off. Including bug candles and my favorite, tiki torches. Those things are massive bucket loads of fun to swing around.

"Let's joust!" I inclined to Emmett. And being the older brother who is just as crazy as me, he played along with me.

We tore the torches out of the ground. Standing in front of each other, we held our torches horizontal, tilting them on a slight angle.

Charging forward at the same time, our torches hit each other in the centers with a smack. We pushed against each other with all our strength. Our hands cramped and teeth gritted together, trying to knock the other to the ground by brutal strength.

Eventually, I got fed up and dropped the torch. Not thinking that one end of the thing was on fire.

"Bella! The ground is on fire!" Emmett stuck his torch in the ground. He ran over to the hose by the house.

The fire was only burning some half-wet pine needles. The light that over took them was so fucking mesmerizing. Fire is something beyond anything. Control. Power. Respect.

I felt my eyes alight at the amazement of it all. Those little pine needles led to my nine year obsession with setting things on fire.

The funny thing about my obsession with fire is the fact I have a police chief for a father. Let me tell you. He was infuriated when he found out about it. No, duh. He could've had my head.

"Dad, I'm not burning things people care about." My twelve year old self whined. It may seem odd that I was throwing a fit over the fact that I damage shit for fun, but what if your parents took away the only thing that made you happy?

"You expect me to go along with this, Isabella! If your mother were alive, she'd have your head!" Okay, two people would have my head.

"I won't stop it. You can't make me." I was not backing down. Would he rather me take up drugs or sex?

"Bella, there is no way to safely set things on fire." Charlie sighed, both defeated and furious.

"Don't fire departments do those tests and stuff?" I vaguely recalled a fireman coming in and doing a safety talk about fire. I was practically snickering the entire time. He then put on a video, showing a demonstration of a controlled fire. The flames looked just as gloriously awesome in its careful setting.

"I can talk to Burt down at the fire station." he said after a long moment and a heavy sigh. I was so relieved and overjoyed, that I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. He returned the gesture by patting me on my arm.

Burt was the motherfucking man. He said that I can do a controlled fire once a week, in a parking lot next to the fire department house. I would have a constant supervisor at all times, which most of the time, turned out to be Jacob Black, one of the young firefighters on the crew.

Standing next to the enemy of fire every Thursday, I felt more compelled than ever to set things on fire.

=X=X=X=X=X=X=

The next thing that annoys me, are people who spread stupid rumors. When I say people, I mean skanks. When I say skanks, I mean The Triple Bitch Brigade known as Jessica, Rosalie, and their Royal Highness known as Lauren. Granted, Rosalie did just join them last week to coincide with her moving here with her brother named Casper or Jasper, or something. I don't care.

They just love to say shit about me that just doesn't have the slightest bit of truthiness to it. They pop their gum, twirl their fingers in their hair, and get the leeriest jackholes in the school to notice them; not that I care if Mike, the creepiest of them all, flirts with them.

While we're on the subject of Mike, he makes my list at numero tres. How I want to punch Mike Newton in the face; let me count the ways. He tries so fucking hard to get every girl in the school to ride him for a few minutes. He's successful about 95% of the time. His schwing-schwong ain't schwinging this way anytime soon. Scratch that…make that never.

The final annoying thing: this goody two shoes Edward Cullen sitting at our Chemistry table. Ever since I can remember, he'd always sit there all quiet and barely utter a fucking word. Whether it was when we colored with generic crayons in kindergarten or right now, with him looking disgusted with the quality of the textbooks we had to read out of. Like he just couldn't bother being in the same room as us other lowly beings.

Stupid trust fund fucker. Okay, I didn't know if he was a "trust fund fucker", but he sure acted like one. Showing up in his designer duds. His twin sister, Alice did that shit too, and it's even more noticeable with a girl.

He'd carry around the most state-of-the-art cellphone that barely looked like one. It looked like something NASA would have. Hello, Cullen, you live in Forks! Unless you have a rocket ship stowed away somewhere, which is highly possible.

And, what "trust fund fucker" wouldn't have a condescending looking car to go along with that image. A. Shiny. Silver. Volvo. Get. A. Real. Fucking. Car.

I plopped down in my seat next to the Trust Fund Fucker. He glanced up at me for two seconds. His face wrinkled in disgust.

Fuck. It is going to be a long school year.


A/N: Reviews are love.