Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. Stephenie Meyer does. She's so awesome.

My name is Isabella Marie Swan, but I prefer just Bella – it's less old-timey. I live in Phoenix, Arizona with my mom, Renee. My dad, Charlie, lives in the rainy town of Forks, Washington. Why don't we all live together you ask? Well after I was born we did live together – for a little while. After a few years my mom had a "spazz attack," as I like to call it, and claimed that she couldn't stand living there anymore – she felt stuck. When that was all said and done she took me and escaped to our current home.

I used to visit Charlie for summer vacation every year – for about three months – but when I was fourteen I put my foot down and stated that I would never go back to that "dumb, rain-filled abomination." In case you couldn't tell I am very vocal, some may some blunt, but hey as the old saying goes "You say tomato, I say potato." Anyway, my parents actually took what I said into consideration and me and my dad settled on meeting in California instead of Forks. It was a nice compromise.

However amazing I thought the new arrangement was I still felt sad sometimes, and it was all thanks to my brother, Leonard – Leo for short. I think that I should clarify that me and Leo aren't related by blood, but to me he's my brother for all intensive purposes, in all the ways that count, and he sees me the same way. Me and Leo first met when my dad took me took a barbeque that one of his old friends was having. I really didn't want to go at first because the man lived in Seattle and I was never a fan of long car rides; however, when I got there my opinions changed. There he was, sulking over by a huge bowl full of red sugary punch, and trying to keep the look of disgust off his face as a blonde shook her way up and down him like he was a pole.

I was only ten at the time, but I had perfected the innocent dense act. Walking over to them I made my steps timid and chewed my lip to make it a little bigger – really helps if you need to pout-and-quiver. Finally reaching them I totally ignored the blonde – whose roots exposed to be a fake blonde – and tugged on the pretty teenage man's sleeve.

"Excuse me, mister. Is that was sex is?" my voice was timidly curious.

At first he just looked at me when his eyes suddenly narrowed. I started to get scared that I angered him in some way but he surprised me when his voice came out calm and politely interested.

"No, little girl it isn't. But if you'd like I could ask your daddy to explain to you what sex is." He was smirking. Smirking! At me!

He knew. He knew that I was acting and I was infuriated to realize that he was trying to beat me at my own game. And here I was trying to help him. That changed faster than you could bat an eyelash.

"Thanks! My daddy is right over there, his name is Charlie." I gasped like I just had the world's biggest epiphany. "You should ask him if you could teach me! After all he looks really busy."

I had the extreme satisfaction of seeing his face turn red.

I wanted to grin right in his face. I wanted to laugh until I cried. Heck, I wanted to do a damn victory dance for the expression that took over his face. Along with the red, the expression was priceless.

However, I had a battle to win. It took every ounce of self control that I possessed, but I managed to keep my features under control. I was able to contain myself from letting him know that if he was going to push, I was going to shove back.

I was a Swan, I was competitive as hell, and I hated to lose.

"Listen kid, I don't know who you are, but go away. Can't you see that were busy?" the fake blonde sneered in her air-head voice.

I swear nails on a chalk board were better than listening to her.

The guy had props for putting up with it for so long.

"Really? Busy with what?"

"Wha—Well—Gah! Never mind that. Just go away, we have adult business to talk about." She was angry now.

The urge to laugh hysterically surfaced again, but I beat it back down.

"But you weren't talking."


"A second ago. The two of you weren't talking. You were just sticking to him like blue glitter crazy glue. That's why I thought you were having sex. Well, I think it was sex..."

Now it was her turn for her face to turn red. And boy did it ever.

Usually I blush real easy, and it's never the faint red, it's like a cherry tomato replaced my face. But at the moment the annoying blonde was giving me a run for my money.

It was comical to say the least.

I watched as her mouth would open and then close, like a fish gasping for water on dry land, and all the while I was stealing quick peeks at the guy standing to my right.

Trying to finally get a good, up-close look at him.

He wasn't bad looking. Curly, dusty blonde hair – like those surfers I saw on television – he had just enough of a tan so he didn't look like a zombie, and he was really tall. I liked tall guys. They just seemed so much cooler, and they were able to do things that my three foot five inch self couldn't.

Okay this is getting boring...

A sigh escaped me just as a little boy crashed into my legs.

"Are you okay," I asked. I hoped he didn't hit his head or something.

"Ya, I'm fine," he replied as he started looking for something on the ground.

"What're you lookin for?"

"Huh? Oh, just my water gun..."

Water. Gun. The two words put together like that created a plan in my head faster than you could say 'Holy Smokes.'

"Yes! Got it."

Kneeling back down to meet his eyes, I once again put on my sweet face.

"Hey, um, do you think I could borrow that for a second?"

"Why?" he asked clutching the gun to his chest, instantly wary. Drat – the kid must have siblings or something...

Hmm, maybe evil motives would work for this kid.

"Well, see that girl right there keeps picking on my brother, and I just thought maybe your water gun could make her stop.... If you know what I mean," I didn't even try to hide the smile that over took my face when I thought about what I wanted to do – it would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame.

The little boy glanced over to the girl as I spoke. And his smile began to mirror my own as I finished telling him my plan.

"That's my sister..."

This is when I panicked. Full-fledged run and scream panic.

"...sure, why not. She got me in trouble with mom yesterday, so this is payback."

Appreciation for this kid's devious mind replaced the panic as it left my body.

He shoved the gun in my hands, and I quickly got to work.

Uncorking the little hole at the top I dumped the water out on the grass. I snuck a look over at the two teenagers again. The fake blonde was once again attached to the dusty blonde...who was starting to creep me out. The girl totally forgot about me the minute my attention towards them ceased, whereas the guy was still staring at me.

Why was I even doing this? I already won the verbal war with Mr. Dusty, so why was I still annoyed? Why was the dumb blonde annoying the crud out of me?

I mentally slapped myself – trying to convince myself it didn't matter – and stood up by the punch bowl. I filled the little gun with the red stuff, and shoved the cork back on.

Now where was.... Ah Hah! Found her. Ms. White. There she was, in her full white pant suit glory. I saw here when I first got here, it was hard to miss her the way she stood out like a high-end designer or something.

Crouching down, just like my dad showed me when we played cops-and-robbers, I snuck closer to my target and lined my gun up, preparing to fire.

Her white jacket. Hopefully gravity would do its job...

In three, two, one...FIRE!!!

I pulled back on the trigger with my mental countdown.

I felt some of the cold juice seep over my fingers and down my hand, as I tuned out everything and just concentrated on the squishy noise the trigger made.

After about 5 seconds of pure mischievous glory I retreated – knowing that people would start to notice really soon.

I ran the few feet back to the girl, still suction-cupped to the boy, and slipped the gun in her back pocket.

Me and the little boy were crouching down next to the punch bowl, when it happened.

Frantic, angered screaming.

Neither of us could contain the snickers, but we managed to keep from out-right laughing. It was hard.

"MY NEW SUITE!!! Who the—what—UHH! When I find out who did –" She didn't finish her sentence – instead gasping as if she were insulted.

"JANE!!! You have so much explaining to do young lady!"

The sticky-tramp whipped around to look at the woman who was starting to resemble a banshee.

"What are you yelling at?" she demanded.

Wait. The girl was Jane. I squirted her mom. Her brother was my accomplice. Talk about a Dr. Phil episode waiting to happen. Honestly, I hated the show, but for some reason my mom loved it. I was usually stuck watching two hours of the dumb thing a day.

After all the yelling things happened pretty fast. Jane was forced into the house by her mom...they didn't come out for a good while. I heard yelling. Anyway the little boy, Alec I soon learned, promised he wouldn't tell anyone it was me – I told him I would forever hold him to that promise.

Later me and Alec were munching on grilled corn – tastes a lot better than it sounds – when Mr. Dusty came and sat next to us.

No food.

No talking.

No moving.

Just staring. At me.

Alec sent me a questioning look, but all I did was shrug. I didn't know what was going on either. All of us sat just sat there – me and Alec still eating, and the other guy still staring.

"Your aim sucks you know."

I started choking. Was he talking to me? What the friggel? My aim is amazing! My daddy taught me.

"What are you talking about," I demanded once I could breathe again.

"Your aim sucks," he said this slowly, as if I were mentally challenged.

"No it doesn't."

"If you pointed your gun a little higher it would've increased the arc from you to your target, which would've effectively caused more damage to her jacket from the higher hit point."

My hunger was completely forgotten as I lunged at him. I was giving it all I had, but he was stronger and bigger. Soon my arms were pinned to my sides, he was straddling me, and I was fighting for air beneath him.

I always did have anger problem...and impulse problems.

"There's nothing wrong with my aim," I growled at him.

"I'm Leonard, but you can call me Leo."

"I don't care. Take it back."

"No. That would be lying."

"So, you're a big kid. Big kids always lie."

"Where did you learn that?"

"Doesn't matter."

"What's your name?"

"Doesn't matter."

"I really want to know."


"You know you're a pretty good fighter."

"...How old are you?"

"Fifteen. Why do you ask?"

"...You're not that big..."

He just stared at me.

"My name is Isabella, but I like Bella."


"Yes. Now please get off me."

"Oh, sorry."

Leonard stood up in one fluid motion and extended his hand out to help me. At first I just looked at it, but after a second I grabbed it and he helped me up.

His hand was big, practically swallowing mine whole, and while it was warm it was kind of rough – as if they were slightly calloused. I liked the feel of them even as a kid. They felt safe.

It was a silent acknowledgement, that helping hand. We were friends now...sort of...in a way.

After that my life was as good as I thought it could get. I had a great hare-brained mother whom I loved, good grades, a few close friends, a loving dad in the summer, and an amazing brother that bought me a laptop just to keep in touch when he found out I was leaving.

My life was perfect.

That was until the year I turned seventeen.

The year everything changed for the worse.

The year I realized I took everything I had for granted...

You know what i really really want, so please....it's right there...just follow the arrows. Hope you liked it :)