A/N: This is the first chapter to my new fan fiction. It's very much in progess and updates won't be as quick as Hybrid's were, but I wanted to give you guys a bit of a sneak peak at what I'm working on and to get some feedback as to what you think. Every chapter begins with a journal entry and the three asterisks (***) are there to let you know that's the end of the journal entry. Just a bit about it before I get into the synopsis: Basically, it begins before Bella arrives to Forks, and then follows the events from her arrival up to her birthday, where Twilight ends. Everything is witnessed through the main character, who you will meet soon as you read on. I hope you like it, please review, I'd really love to hear your thoughts about it! Thanks :)

Synopsis

Annie McCord has been a resident of Forks her entire life and has and obsessive need to observe the actions of those around her. She's been witness to anything and everything in Forks, including the Cullen's arrival to Forks 2 years before Bella's. Annie grows particularly fond of watching the Cullen family because of how strangely different they are from everyone else in Forks. The Observer allows you to see the events of Twilight through someone else's eyes, take witness to things Bella never saw and relive the love and relationship between Bella and Edward. Also, see a different side of the Cullen's as Annie slowly tries to unravel their secret by watching their every move.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. I'm simply making use of the wonderful world Stephenie Meyer created :)


Introduction

Forks, Washington, a town seemingly innocent enough with its small population and dreary weather. Nothing extraordinary would ever happen here, no one famous would think to come here, no scandals emerge through the grape vine; it's normal. Or so you thought. Forks is home to great, dark secrets and of beings you would never even dream of existing. They say it's the big, busy cities you have to watch out for because they harbour all kinds of criminals and scandals, but I beg to differ. Fear the small, tight knit towns. Sure, everyone puts on a happy face but you don't know what goes on behind closed doors, between friends or between lovers. Forks keeps one heck of a secret underneath all of this rain and thick blankets of green. Enclosed in the pages of this journal is every piece of valuable information about this little town, its residents and, most importantly, their secrets.

Who Am I? That's One Secret I Will Tell

My name is Annie McCord, I'm seventeen and a student at Forks High School. I've lived in Forks my entire life and therefore know everyone in town pretty well. I suppose I get a bit lost in the shuffle, although that may be hard to believe in a small town such as ours. I'm a bit reserved and quiet, even introverted if you want to call me that. I've been accused of being anti-social as well, which isn't entirely false. I'm not too keen on casual interaction with people I don't know. I'd rather watch their every move. You're probably wondering why I observe others so closely, why I'm so withdrawn. I guess I'll get this tid bit about myself out of the way now, because I owe a lot to this particular point of my life. Quite bluntly, the death of my mom is the reason for it. I was nine when she died, but she had been sick for a couple years before that. My mom and I were really close, I confided in her more than I did any other person. When she got sick I spent all of my time with her. When she became too weak to speak, I learned how to decipher slight movements or sounds she'd make when she needed something. I guess that's where it all started. I would sit there by her side for hours, watching her every move. She was the first subject of my observations. Observing her had become second nature to me, like a new language. I'd have full out conversations with her and know her replies to whatever I was telling her just by the subtle vibration of her eyelids, or the slight tug at the corner of her lips. She was listening, communicating, even when she said nothing at all, even when her lips ceased to part. After she died I felt like I didn't have anyone to share my random musings with, to be myself around. I only had myself. I stopped talking to people for a really long time, only communicating with myself and the mental notes of observations I made about other people. The funeral was when I hit the observer's jackpot. People would come by, offering condolences, but there were sly gestures, twitches, and humphs that suggested other thoughts beyond a simple 'I'm sorry for your loss'. One of my favourites from that day was the flutter of Ms. Gordon's eyelashes towards my mourning father, suggesting a flirtatious attitude behind the tears that fell from her eyes. People never cease to amaze me.

Anyhow, since that particular event in my life, I've found more comfort in my own company and in the keys of my laptop- where I'm free to express my every thought and emotion without boundaries- than I do with my peers. So, it should be of no surprise that I spend a lot of my time alone in the comforts of the four plain, bare, lilac walls of my bedroom. My walls have been that color since I was seven and had an unhealthy obsession with the color purple. I was bored of it now, but never found the drive to change it. Not much can keep my interest for very long, except for the unpredictable actions of other people that I so happily take witness to.

I'm a quiet observer of sorts. I relish in watching others in social situations, listening to their conversations and examining their movements as they interact with others. You can learn a lot by the way a person positions themselves in their seat in accordance to who their with, how they shift in their movements while in the middle of a conversation, or the way their facial expression changes when no one is looking at them. It's fascinating. Living in the house next to that of the Chief of police, Charlie Swan, seemed almost too convenient for an observer such as myself. I'd always leave my window open just a crack whenever Charlie would stop by to talk to my dad, good old Francis McCord, about the criminal happenings of our little town. Unfortunately, the chances of anything remotely criminal happening in Forks was rare to none. But every so often something would stir the peace, rumours would spread and Charlie would know about it. Then it was unknowingly passed on to me, the quiet observer next door. Observing others became like a reflex for me after a while and soon I began to do it subconsciously. At first, the people of Forks were interesting in how they would be so humble with their friends, then gossip to others about how Helen is flirting with the gardener or that Patrick has been sleeping in a motel for the past few days because Grace threw him out. But the insipid chatter of my fellow neighbours failed to amuse me any longer. I still observed others, for it was what I did best, but not as thoroughly and intently as I had before.

High school was a different story. That's when observations were most enjoyable. The small scandals between gossipy friends and the break ups and hook ups of couples had proven to be very entertaining. Things were always changing, every day was a new scene and one I took great joy in immersing myself into. There's always an unrequited love floating around somewhere, which made things quite appealing. But all too quickly, the happenings of the same people tends to lose its lustre and for a while, I hushed the alertness of my tendency to observe. But all changed the day the Cullens moved to our little town. My world was shaken, stirred and flopped upside down at their arrival. A light began to grow deep inside and the observer inside me yearned to escape. Who was I to keep the observer within at bay? I hadn't the strength, nor the patience. I unleashed it and have never in my life been addicted to anything as much as the actions of this particular family.

***

"Hey Kitten, aren't you hungry?" Dad hollered from the bottom of the short flight of stairs situated behind the wall next to the step in the floor that separated the living room from the kitchen. Our house wasn't the biggest house out there, but it was big enough for Dad and I to live comfortably and allowed us each to have our space. I rolled my eyes, finished typing the last sentence of my journal entry, closed the lid of my laptop, slid it off to the side and hopped out of bed. No one knew about my journal and no one ever would. It was something I did for myself, to keep track of my observations and any scandal going on with the townspeople, plus my own commentary. It gave me something to do and allowed me to observe with a purpose.

"Dad, I hate when you call me that." I said, skipping down the last step. He always used pet names for me and I've hated every single one. Kitten was new, I think he got it off of one of those old TV shows depicting a perfect family. News flash, we're missing a particularly important piece of that nuclear family. I can't blame him for wanting that perfect family, though. He's always trying so hard to make everything easier, even after all these years. Mom's death was really hard on him, but he never failed to be a great dad. But, greatness and all, one thing I could not stand was his little pet names.

"Sorry, pumpkin. Come on and have some supper." He said, sliding a plate of spaghetti down the table towards my seat. I grimaced as I took my seat. Dad contorted his body around the corner of the counter and took a seat across from mine, both of us occupying the end seats of the table.

I absent-mindedly swirled spaghetti around my fork when good ol' Francis, as I liked to refer to him as, parted his lips and let out a deep breath. A conversation was brewing beneath that breath.

"So, I bumped into Carlisle Cullen today down at the hospital. He's such a fine fellow, Forks is lucky to have a doctor such as him. He could be getting big bucks somewhere else, you know, but he chose to come here. And those kids of his, so well behaved." He continued, pausing between mouthfuls of pasta. All of what he said was just fine and dandy, but only one part of it stood out.

"What were you doing at the hospital?" I asked, my hand ceasing to twirl spaghetti around the fork.

"Well, I was..." He took in a deep breath here, his chest elevating and his eyes diverting to the living room. He was hiding something from me, something I knew I wouldn't be too fond of. He coughed slightly before finishing his sentence. "picking Grace up for lunch."

Grace, a nurse from the hospital. She had a good reputation and was kind and generous, what with devoting most of her time to the hospital and all. But Grace didn't fool me, not the slightest bit. First of all, she was a divorcee, which said quite a lot about how well she is with committed relationships. She threw poor Patrick, a quiet electrician and heck of a kind man, out of her house for no apparent reason. But, I of course knew the real reason for the abrupt end to their marriage. Grace had been overcome by Dr. Cullen's handsomeness and even had the gull to pursue him. Patrick found out and Grace had the nerve to kick him out. Clearly, my opinions of her were not of the highest spirits. Grace was just like so many of the people I'd come to know too well through my observations. She seemed sweet and kind to the blind eye, but behind closed doors she was devious, working with ulterior motives. To know such a woman was fooling around with my dad wasn't news I wanted to hear.

I felt my throat constrict and for a moment was unable to speak. I stabbed my fork into the spaghetti, swirling with such force that the metal screeched against the ceramic plate.

"Annie, that's enough. I know it's tough, but come on mom's been gone for almost eight years now, Pumpkin." My father, genetically fused to me for life, replied to my actions. The anger continued to brew in me so profoundly that I could feel my bones begin to rattle. I could see him try to hide his disappointment in me to spare my feelings, but he couldn't fool me. To remind me of a fact that is practically burned into my brain was totally unnecessary and I couldn't sit in his presence anymore. This is why I retreated so often to those four walls of my room, because everyone had something to hide, nobody was ever honest right off the bat and the only time honesty showed itself was in the heat of an argument, bound to sting one of the parties involved.

"I'm well aware how long it's been, dad. You can do whatever you want, I don't care." I threw my fork down and scooted back in my chair, about to leave.

"Annie, I'm sorry. Please don't leave, finish your supper. Let's talk about this, you never talk to me or to anyone." He called out to me, remorse clear in his voice. Whether it was genuine I couldn't be sure, I didn't have the chance to figure it out. I scooted forward in my seat, preparing myself for the pitiful lecture that would follow.

"I don't have anything to say." I said robotically in a hushed tone as I stared down at my plate of half-eaten spaghetti.

"I'm worried about you. You're always up in your room by yourself, sometimes I'm amazed you even remember the English language since you rarely ever use it." He continued, anger escalating, then dwindling as he spoke. He sighed and suddenly a hope arose in his face as his eyebrows lifted, his eyes bulging and his lips parting in an 'O' shape. "You know, Charlie's daughter, Isabella, is moving in with him this week. I think he said she's seventeen, just like you! Isn't that exciting?" He said with a faint 'ha', the longing sound at the end of his sentence, screaming for me to be enthusiastic about it.

While I wasn't jumping out of my seat in excitement of this news, it was something new, or rather someone new. Maybe this new girl would rustle up some excitement amongst the boring townspeople. I bet Charlie was gallivanting around town with this news and surely people would be talking.

"That's great news..." I nodded, a plan brewing in my mind. "Hey dad, what do you say to a trip to the diner later? I'm in the mood for a smoothie." I beamed, smiling from ear to ear. My dad's face lifted as he smiled, the creases of his face deepening, the laugh lines folding so far in that it made his long face look clown-like. His light blue, almost silvery eyes glittered in the light.

"Sure, sweetheart. That would be great!" He said as he cleared our plates from the table. I watched the back of his head as he walked away towards the sink, taking in the color of his dark, ashy-blonde hair. It was short in the back and longer at the top. I glanced down at my long, wavy, chocolate brown hair then back at the blonde that coloured my father's head. I definitely took after my mom. I did have my dad's eyes though. He turned to me, his foot sliding against the tile floor as he pivoted, and clasped his hands together. A smile still lit his face and he bent over a bit in my direction.

"Should we get going?" He asked. I nodded and followed him out the door, grabbing my coat from the brown, wooden coat rat that was placed just before the door, which was just a short hallway away from the kitchen, and rushed out of the door after my dad.

The short ride to the diner was quiet. I noticed Charlie's cruiser in his drive way when we passed by his house and knew people at the diner would be free to gossip; perfect! My dad tried to strike up conversation with me when he noticed one of the Cullens drive by in one of their fancy, expensive cars. I didn't really care to notice which one it was, I think it was silver.

"Would you take a look at that? What a machine, huh?" He said, shaking his head then tapping the dashboard of our beat up, beige, 1968 Plymouth Barracuda. "It's alright Betsy, nothing beats a classic." He said, as if to sooth the car's feelings. Sometimes I wondered if he realized 'Betsy' was an inanimate object.

I shrugged as I kept my gaze out the window, watching as people we knew waved as we drove by. I couldn't prevent the roll my eyes reflexively took at the sight of such phoniness. We pulled up to a parking space at the diner and were met with more waves and smiles. My dad stepped out of the car, closed the door with a flick of the wrist and walked towards the front of it as he pulled up his pants and stuck his chin in the air to take a look around. It always amazed me that he did a sweep of his surroundings every time we left the house to go somewhere, as if he's never seen every nook and cranny of our little town thousands of times before. I stepped out of the car and followed my dad inside. We took a seat on the stools at the counter and waited for a waiter to take our order. I wasn't really in the mood for that smoothie, but I knew if I didn't order it, ol' Francis would figure out I wanted to come here for different reasons. He didn't necessarily know for sure what my secret little occupation was, but I think he had a hunch. He always caught me when I wasn't listening to anything he was saying and would crack jokes like, "did someone flip their hair the wrong way, Harriet?", as in Harriet the spy. I brushed it off but something told me he knew, he just preferred not to believe it. I'll admit, I haven't been the most vocal or social person since my mom got sick, observing just became my preferred way of communication. I knew my dad never liked that I was so introverted, he'd always try to push me into social interactions but I always weaseled my way out. I could tell it saddened him, by the way his face would fall, he'd look down and the corner of his lip would tug, as if to question himself as to what else he could do. It was that simple tug of the lip that made me feel like I was disappointing him, that I was a failure as a daughter. And when you feel like a failure, being outgoing and social is the last thing you want to do. It's that tug of the lip that sends me into deep observation mode, anything to focus the attention off of myself and on to someone else's flaws.

The lip tug hadn't made its appearance yet, it was too early for that. I figured I'd try to act enthused and talk more this time, to escape the burden of that tiny gesture.

"Hey there, Francis, Annie. What can I get you?" Sue asked, notepad and pen in hand.

"I'll have a slice of that pecan pie and Annie, what flavour smoothie do you want, honey?"

"Strawberry banana, please." I said, my voice slightly louder than a whisper. Some people turned in their chairs, ears perked up and heads tilted at the sound of my voice. I suppose it wasn't a very common sound, since I rarely spoke in public. Sue smiled at me as if I just told her the winning lottery numbers and then turned to get our order. Even my dad turned to look at me, as if some great miracle bestowed itself upon the unexpecting people of Forks. I just looked down at the counter and fidgeted with my hands as I waited for everyone's attention to revert back to whatever they did before the sound of my voice ruptured through the atmosphere. Sue returned with my dad's pie and my smoothie, winked at us and then left to serve some other people. I tilted my ear upwards, towards the right of me when I heard someone mention 'Swan'. The tone of their voice hinted that they weren't talking about the bird. Gladys, a middle-aged secretary with short, frizzy red hair and style that screamed her evidently strong desire to return to the 1970s, leaned in to gossip with Helen, a plump woman with brown hair pulled back and fastened with a large clip.

"Did you hear? Chief Swan's daughter is coming to live with him." She whispered, as if this was the biggest scandal to ever occur in the history of the country. Helen's eyebrows perked up, both of them arching higher than eyebrows should, her lips pursing so tightly they turned white, as she leaned back and swigged her coffee in response to the news.

"That's what I thought. I mean, the girl leaves her poor father with that flighty ex-wife of his and decides, years later, to grace him with her presence in his home? I bet she's just like her mother. I give her a month, tops." Gladys continued, waving her hand in the air.

"Well, she did stop visiting for four years. Now what does that tell ya, hm?" Helen responded, nodding as she nudged her pale green coffee mug towards Gladys. "And poor Charlie, bless his heart, still loves the woman who left him eighteen years ago. I can't imagine what it would do to him when his daughter up and leaves him the same way." Helen continued.

It was clear that neither of the ladies thought Charlie's daughter would stay long. In fact, they were sure she would flee just like her mother did. It made me a bit sick to know that the people of this town would turn against a member of their community like that, regardless of the circumstances. Charlie's daughter was coming back and they didn't even give her the benefit of the doubt. I never met her mom and barely spent any time with her on her short stays here, but she didn't seem like that bad of a person. But who knows, I haven't seen her in four years and never bothered to speak to her when she was here. I would just have to wait and see when she arrives within the week.

"Charlie's been raving about his Isabella all day, such a pretty name for a rancid girl." Gladys said,

shaking her head and consequentially her hair, releasing the odour of cigarettes and musky women's perfume in my direction. I began to cough, which drew my dad's attention to me.

"Hey, you alright there, kiddo? You've barely touched your smoothie." He said as he removed a strand of hair from my face. I nodded in response, not wanting to speak in fear of the commotion that would no doubt break out in reaction to the sound of my voice.

A commotion of a different kind erupted at the entrance of the diner as Mike Newton, Eric Yorkie, Jessica Stanley and Angela Weber walked in, their chattering and laughing silencing the chatter of those inside as they watched the group enter the diner and take their seats at the counter next to my dad.

"You want me to leave so you can hang out with your friends?" My dad whispered. I shook my head and placed my hand on his arm, to make it very clear that I didn't want him to leave me alone. Those kids weren't my friends, I doubt they even knew my name. Sure, we all went to the same high school and it wasn't exactly overflowing with kids, but nobody ever noticed me at school. I was just the blur in the background, dismissed by their eyes as they scan the cafeteria for their friends at lunch every day of the week. I always took refuge in a specifc corner of the cafeteria, curled up in a chair with my notebook as I wrote down any interesting observations. It was like my own little enclosure, two walls providing a safe haven during the hustle and bustle of the lunchtime hour.

Gladys started gossiping again and I turned nonchalantly to listen.

"She remarried you know. Yeah, to a baseball player." She said, nodding to confirm the truth of her own words.

"Ha, that explains it. The girl doesn't like her step father and chose to run to her real one instead. Typical teen rebellion." Helen said, tapping her tongue against the roof of her mouth to utter a sound of disapproval.

Gladys and Helen were interesting subjects. They were two ladies who thought very highly of themselves and poorly of anyone else. When they were together they gossiped as if there were no tomorrow, and when they were apart they gossiped some more about each other. Meanwhile, neither of them were honourable or respectable enough to even begin judging other people. It was attitudes like theirs that was further proof of the facade looming over the citizens of Forks.

"Hey man, did you hear there's going to be a new girl at school next week?" I heard Mike Newton saying to Eric.

"Yeah, the chief's daughter is moving to town." Eric replied.

"It'll be a nice change from all the girls around here. I bet she's really hot. I call dibs!"

"Dude, she hasn't even stepped foot in Forks yet, you can't call dibs."

"Alright, then Yorkie, may the best man win." Mike said. His back was to me but I already knew his right eyebrow would be arched and his mouth would be open in a half-smile as he challenged his friend to win a heart of a girl neither of them knew. They were your typical teenage boys. I suppose Mike would be considered the 'hottie' or 'heart throb' of Forks high, with Eric being the runner up. Mike has tried to get his hands on almost every girl our age in Forks, it was no surprise to me that he would already be plotting a way to gain the affections of Isabella Swan, no matter how brief they may be, just as long as he was first.

The boys got up and walked towards the restrooms, leaving Angela and Jessica in clear view.

Jessica's eyes followed Mike as he walked away. She was clearly head over heels for him, but he failed to see it. Jessica was a gossipy girl, a future Gladys if you will. I never could stand her or her voice. The girl could talk for hours.

Angela was different, though. She was shy and kind, the total opposite of Jessica. I never understood why she hung out with Jessica, but I suppose what they say is true and opposites do attract.

"I don't know why they're so excited, I mean I bet she's not even that pretty." Jessica scoffed.

"We don't know that. I'm sure she's really nice." Angela piped in.

"Whatever, all I know is that I'm going to keep my friends close and my enemies closer." Jessica said as she bobbed her straw in and out of her drink.

She was chewing at the inside of the bottom lip feverishly and kept her foot tapping against the foot rest of the stool at a quick and steady pace. Anger and worry escaped the quick and nervous motions of her body. She coveted Mike, that was no secret, and she feared the competition. Jessica began to shake her head and sighed. A spew of word vomit was about to unleash itself.

"She's been gone for years, couldn't she just stay in wherever the hell she's from?" The words flowed out of her mouth quickly and louder than she had intended, for her expression changed as her lips formed an 'O' and she smiled shyly while scanning the room with her eyes.

"She's from Phoenix, dear." Edna, an old woman with snow white hair, leaned towards Jessica and whispered. Jessica's eyebrows arched in unison as she nodded once, her lips tight in a line as she forced a smile and reverted her gaze back to Angela.

Mike and Eric returned to the girls and all four of them left together in one swift shuffle towards the door. The atmosphere had calmed and before long the only sound that could be heard was forks clanking against plates and the sips of noisy coffee drinkers. I suddenly longed for the sanctuary of the four, lilac walls of my bedroom.

"Hey dad, I'm kind of tired. Do you mind if we take off?" I said, whispering in his ear. He nodded and put his arm around my shoulders as we walked towards the door.

I noticed Grace before my dad did. The white of her nurse's outfit blinded me, along with her flowing, box dyed, brown hair flapping in the wind. Her red lips framed her pearly white teeth in a smile and her giddy laugh pierced my ears.

"Oh, Francis! I didn't know you were here." She said, batting her left hand downwards as she glanced over to her friend, Sheryl, another nurse from the hospital. Sheryl was less vibrant than Grace, with dull, light brown hair and beige scrubs. She tended to blend in more than stand out, although her kindness spoke louder than her attire. I knew that the quick glance Grace shot to Sheryl meant that Sheryl had called Grace to let her know my dad was at the diner and to hurry on over. I had lost all respect for Sheryl in that moment.

"Yup, just taking Annie here out for a smoothie." He said, pulling me into his side and shaking me. I refused to look at Grace, to subject myself to the fake 'nice to see you, sweetie' that would no doubt fumble out of her mouth. She wouldn't be earning any brownie points with me.

"Oh, how nice." She said, her tone less cheery. She could tell I wasn't thrilled to see her, which was exactly what I wanted. I was glad I wasn't the only one to be well versed in body language. Then again, my long, loud, exasperated sighs could have hinted to my distaste too.

"Are you going in?" my dad asked.

"Oh, yes." She said, her head twitching upwards slightly at the suggestion because she obviously had no intention of going to the diner in the first place.

"Care for some company?" My dad asked, stepping aside so that he could open the door.

"I'd love some!" Grace chirped.

Before I could object, Grace was already walking inside. I slid from underneath my dad's arm and looked at him questioningly.

"What? Aren't you coming in?" He asked, oblivious to the fact that I despised the women sitting cross-legged by the window.

"Dad, I just told you I'm tired. I just want to go home."

I noticed Grace eyeing my dad and I as we spoke and when those words escaped my lips she was on her feet and at the door in the matter of seconds, as if she were simply waiting for her cue.

"Is everything okay?" She asked, her eyes glued to mine as she grinned.

"Well, Annie wants to head home. I'm sorry Grace." He said, his hand disappearing behind Grace. She shifted her shoulder inwards towards my dad in response to his touch. I could feel the spaghetti I'd eaten earlier slowly creep back up.

"Oh..." She said, a failed attempt at trying to sound disappointed. Her eyes fell to the ground, as if to make it look as though she was sincerely hurt that I wanted to leave. Her face lit up all too quickly.

"I know, why don't you give Annie your car and I can drive you home later." She smiled and winked at me as if she were doing me a favour. My dad's face erupted in a smile and he kept looking back and forth at the both of us, as if it were the greatest plan he'd ever heard of. He leaned in to kiss me on the forehead, his hand still moulded to Grace's back, and then he threw me the keys to his car, the classic he rarely let me drive. He was almost too eager, as if he were in on the scheme too. They both turned back into the diner, his hand never leaving the small of Grace's back. I pivoted to face the Barracuda and just stood in front of it for a moment. It was getting dark, the town had a blue hue to it now that the sun, although rarely seen, was going down. I noticed one of the Cullen cars speed by the diner, the silver one we noticed earlier on the way here. It pulled in to the gas station across the street and I found my legs moving towards the road without me willing them to do it. It was like my body was pulled wherever it instinctually thought prime subjects for observations were.

I recognized the statue of perfection the moment he stepped out of the car. Edward took slow strides towards the gas pump, unscrewed the gas cap on his car and inserted the pump. His strides seemed forcefully slow, as if his body thrashed beneath the perfection of his skin to go faster, but his mind willed it to slow down. He caught me staring at him and it was too late to look away. I was captured by his beauty, the utter perfection that stood before me. But some things are too perfect to be true, and while perfection is the only word in the English language remotely capable of describing the Cullen family, I knew they held secrets of their own.

"Hello." He said. His melodic voice took an invisible form in the air and caused my entire body to tingle as swirled into my ears. My chest rose as I took in a deep breath, unsure how to respond. I hadn't spoken casually to anyone in years. My mind went blank. What do you respond with when someone says hello?

I responded the only way I knew how: with a smile, a simple extension of the lips to acknowledge him.

I scratched my head and looked away. I couldn't believe Edward Cullen spoke to me and I couldn't even say hello. I chuckled quietly and then walked quickly into the convenient store, hoping that it would seem as if I needed to get something. I hid between the small aisles as I watched Edward pay for the gas, glide back to his car and speed away. I stumbled out to the space his car occupied moments ago, black tire tracks staining the pavement. I was completely astonished by Edward and his entire family, ever since they moved to Forks two years ago. There was something about them that wasn't right and not the least bit human.

I walked back to the parking lot of the diner, looking back at the gas station every so often, and then sat inside my dad's car. I didn't allow myself to look inside at him and Grace together as I sped away.

I noticed a new addition to our street as I drove down it towards my house. A big, red, Chevy truck was parked in front of Charlie's house. It looked familiar, but I couldn't pinpoint exactly who's truck it was. I shrugged it off and pulled into my driveway a bit too fast. I was anxious to get upstairs and write down my observations of the most intriguing and mysterious family in Forks: The Cullens.

A/N: That concludes the first chapter. The next one will be about the Cullens and Bella's arrival to Forks. Unfortunately, it probably won't be up for a while since I haven't written it yet, but I'll try my best to have it finished by the end of the week. At the latest, it'll be up by next weekend. Sorry for the long wait! I hope you liked it, please review and let me know :) Thanks!