[Author's Note]

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Twilight, though sadly I dream about it every night only to wake up and realize that it isn't true. :`(


Moving In

"Come on," I urged. "Get up, Ally. We've gotta unpack!"

My friend, Allison, was lying on top of her covers on the couch, her legs splayed across the cushions. She groaned, pressing her pillow against the side of her face. I slapped her leg.

"We'll never get this house furnished if you don't get up, Al. Come on, I'm not playing anymore." I announced.

Allison and I just moved to La Push. We finally got to live in the house we purchased with our hard earned money, and still we hadn't unpacked the mountains of boxes that were stacked precariously around the tiny household. We keep putting it off more and more, but now I'm tired of running into a stack of boxes every night when I make a trip to the bathroom.

The house itself wasn't so bad, with two bedrooms, a small kitchen, a living room and a bathroom. Hell, we even have our own little back yard. But sometimes it felt as though it wasn't big enough with the both of us occupying it.

Allison and I are polar opposites. She's tall, leggy, with short golden blond hair that is always effortlessly stylish, and a killer sense of fashion. Blue eyes were framed by heavy, dark lashes and were under perfectly arched eyebrows. Ally loved to party, and was the social butterfly out of the two of us. She's only had, like, a million boyfriends, and she keeps a scrapbook of them. Al claims that "they hold good memories" and she keeps them around "for sentimental reasons." But I secretly suspect that she looks them over at nights and ogles their drool-worthy abs and muscles.

I, on the other and far distant hand, have had little to no boyfriends, dark hair, and dismal gray eyes far too huge for my small-framed face. I won't say that I'm short, 'cause that's just not the case. I like to use fun-sized, or vertically challenged to describe myself. There's a big difference, trust me. As for my clothes, I usually hint towards the darker side of the force, 'cause, let's just face reality for the sake of humor, I do not feel 'pretty' in pink.

Al still hadn't moved.

I gingerly picked up the corner of the blanket, pretending to examine it before jerking it with all my strength. Allison came tumbling down, falling face first into the dark carpet. She stayed there, not moving an inch. I nudged her side with my toe lightly, and when she didn't respond I nudged harder.

"Ally," I whispered. I bent down, putting my hand on the middle of her back, shaking her slightly. "Ally?" I was about to whisper again when Allison tackled me, mercilessly poking my sensitive sides and the crook of my neck. I squealed, trying to throw her off of me.

The tickling continued. "How do you like that? Huh?" she laughed. "You evil little leprechaun!" I giggled as her fingers frantically poked and prodded sensitive skin.

"P-Please!" I gasped. Allison leered down at me.

"Please, what?"

"Pl-lease s-stop tickling m-me!" I begged. Allison smiled sweetly down at me before gracefully picking herself from on top of me. I scowled at her.

"That," I said. "Was not funny." Allison giggled, but otherwise ignored my contemptuous comment.

"Okay, time to get unpacking!" she announced, clapping her hands.

I dragged the heavy box into my room, panting heavily. My skin was glazed over with sweat, and my cheeks pink from exertion.

"Come on," Allison jeered. "My dead grandmother can move faster than you!"

"I bet your grandmother didn't have to lug around twenty ton boxes around and unpack them!" I retorted. I heard a snort from the Allison's room, then silence.

In the quiet, I examined the bedroom: my new bedroom.

I had my bed pushed against the wall, my pillows lined evenly where the folded over blanket ended. I had my favorite blanket on top of my comforted, a crocheted blanket of varying blues my mother had made me before I moved. There was a little wooden shelf case with some academic awards and pictures of family and friends, and a small window that let in minimal light. Books and magazines that were all neat and precise, nothing out of place, already took up my nightstand. No clutter, thank God.

"Cassie!" Allison called, but I ignored her. I still had to unpack a few more boxes until I was done, and I needed utter concentration to visualize the best possible places.

"Cassie," Allison moaned, much louder. "Cassssiiieeeeee….." I sighed as her pleas became more garbled, and lower. That girl is such a spaz.

I sighed, walking out into the narrow hallway and stepped into the open doorway of Al's room.

"Cassssiiieeeeee— oh! You're here now," she said, giggling. Allison was sitting cross-legged on her mattress, a giant book opened in front of her. She waved me over with an enthusiastic hand.

"Come look at pictures with me!"

I sat beside her on the comfy bed and examined the pictures that were taped to the pages. Each one had a short paragraph beside it in sparkly purple ink. "Oo! You remember this one?"

I snorted, rolling my eyes. How could I not forget? It was taken at our High School graduation— two weeks ago.

It was of us, surrounded by other friends and random people wanting to be in the picture. We were both in our navy graduation gowns, our hair slightly mussed by the caps we had been wearing. Al's eyes were red-rimmed, and slightly puffy. She had been crying her eyes out, much to my embarrassment. Her arms were wrapped around me, crushing me to her side. I was looking at her, a comical annoyed expression tightening my eyes and pinching the skin around my mouth as I glared at her.

I chuckled. "I've never understood how you could be so sentimental over such silly things." This time, Allison was the one to give me the annoyed glare.

"It's not silly, Cassidy," she corrected disparagingly. "It was a momentous occasion, one that we will never get to experience again." I rolled my eyes, nodding. How many times have I heard her say that?

"Well, what else do you have?"

Al flipped the pages, obviously looking for something to tease me with. I was right.

"Wasn't he a looker, eh?" It was a picture of prom, me looking very miserable by my ex-boyfriend, who was a ghastly shade of green. Only a second later, off camera, he blew chunks everywhere. Nothing was left untouched. Sadly, it applied to everyone in a five-foot radius. Especially me.

"Aw," I whined. "Why can't we get rid of that one? Like, set it on fire or shoot it off on a firecracker?"

Allison shook her head. "No way. This, right here, is freaking gold."

All night, we reminisced over the images, laughing over memories, and scoffing at the stupid things we did. And, trust me, we did a lot of stupid stuff. When the sun rose, casting everything in a pale pinkish-orange glow, we said "good night" to each other, and went to bed.