Four Summers by Bratty-Vamp.pdf

Four Summers by Bratty-Vamp

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/6710060/1/

-Summer, 1998-

I sat with my knees bracing my notebook, writing and doodling across the faded

blue lines. My free hand held the pages down, even as the flirty wind tried to

tease them open to reveal my secrets. I wrote everything in my notebook.

Poems… short stories… random thoughts and sketchy pictures. It was the world

as I knew it, in my thirteen year old mind and imagination.

And right then, as I sat alone with the hem of my skirt anchored firmly down

under my heels in the sand, that notebook was my best friend. My only friend.

My mother had recently married for the third time. Her new husband, Lonnie,

owned a private beach house on Hatteras Island, on the Outer Banks of North

Carolina. He brought my mother and I to spend our summer here, in what he

insisted would be our new yearly tradition.

I wondered how long it would last.

I could hear the laughter of other children on the beach. A few kids who looked at

least close to my age stayed in homes up and down this stretch of ocean-side

property. Traditions of their own brought them back every summer. And

apparently they all knew each other. Lonnie said I'd make friends in no time. I

kinda hoped that he was right. Otherwise it would be a very long summer.

It wasn't that I was particularly shy or antisocial, but I was used to moving a lot.

I was born in Washington State. My mother divorced my father, her first

husband, and took me away from there when I was just three years old.

Then she married a banker in Arizona. That lasted for five years.

We lived in Tennessee for three years. Mom was engaged to a doctor, but that

didn't pan out.

She met Lonnie after we moved up to Michigan. He was the Muffler King of

Detroit. I always thought that title was funny. He owned a chain of auto-body

shops. My mother was convinced that he was 'the one.' I hoped she was right. I

liked Lonnie.

I had already lived in four different states by the time I was thirteen years old. I

guess you could say that it had made me a little jaded. I didn't really see the

point in going out of my way to make friends, when it was likely that we'd just be

moving along again sometime soon. But still…

I looked up and pushed my wind-swept hair away from my face. A group of boys

nearby threw a football back and forth across the section of the beach. They ran

and jumped and stretched their gangly bodies while they laughed and played in

the sun. A little further down, a couple of girls laid out on blankets while they

tried to get tan. I was envious of the relaxed comfort they all seemed to share

with one another.

I looked down and frowned.

Alone, I wrote on my notebook page. My pen sketched upward, turning the top of

the 'l' into branches that formed a tree. The rest of the letters huddled under its

shade, and I smiled, imagining sitting there too. It was easy to get lost in fantasy

when I wrote, and very easy to ignore the rest of the world around me. So easy

in fact, that I didn't even hear the loud trampling of feet as they ran toward me. I

was shocked and had the air knocked out of me when a long body fell over me,

knocking me to the sand. I blinked up in surprise and was blinded by the sun only

for a second before a giant tennis shoe obscured the light and came crashing

down directly across my face.

"Ooomph," I grunted as I saw stars twinkle-twinkle-dancing behind my eyelids.

"Christ, Cullen! I think you killed the girl!"

"Shut up, dick!" a voice said beside me. It must have been the owner of the shoe,

because I could feel him scrambling to get off of me while he spoke. "It's your

fault you threw such a lousy pass. I was running backward. I didn't even see

her."

"Is she breathing?"

"Of course she's breathing, dumbass!"

My eyes were still closed, but I struggled to sit up.

"Shit. She's bleeding."

"Where's your house?" someone asked near my ear. I squinted my eyes open,

and tried to point behind me, while someone shoved a damp t-shirt over my face

and squeezed my nose beneath the material. I could taste blood that had dripped

down from my nose and tried not to gag.

"Get her up." Another pair of hands gripped me under my arms and hauled me up

to my feet. My balance was thrown off and I couldn't see anything over the

cotton that was bunched up over my face. I staggered a little, and the boy beside

me put his arm around my shoulder to steady me.

"Easy there, girl. We'll get you to your place."

I nodded and let the group of boys walk me up the beach to the house. I was

thankful for the t-shirt that covered my face, feeling mortified by the situation. I

was sure that I looked a mess, and I was horribly embarrassed by all of the

attention. I couldn't exactly see how many boys surrounded me, but by the sound

of their feet on the stairs that led to my back porch, I guessed that every single

one of them had given up their game to usher me inside. And then I was in my

kitchen, and I could hear my mother's voice.

"Isabella? What in the world is going on in here?" she asked, sounding way more

annoyed than alarmed.

I cringed and moved toward the sink to turn on the water and clean myself up.

"Uh… we were playing football and she was in the way…" someone began to

explain.

"Of course, of course…" my mother told the boys. "I'm sure it was just an

accident. Now you all get back outside. You've tracked sand in all over my floor."

I heard their retreating footsteps, and someone yelled out "Sorry!" before the

screen door closed with a bang and the room was silent except for the sound of

the running water. I used the t-shirt that was left behind to wipe my nose and

chin. And then I cupped cool water in my hands and began to wash the rest of

the blood away.

"Well… let's look at you," my mother said, handing me a clean towel to dry my

face. I turned off the water and spun to rest my back against the counter. "Ugh,"

she tsked as her eyes studied my appearance. "You've completely ruined your

dress."

I looked down then, and saw blood had dripped down in a few places on the front

of the white sundress I was wearing.

"You always have been so clumsy," my mother frowned. I lowered my brows, and

winced at the tenderness of the skin across my cheek.

"I was just sitting there," I argued. "He was the one who tripped over me."

"Well, I'll have to see if I can get those stains out before they set. Here. I'll wash

that shirt too." I handed over the sweaty t-shirt, and she gingerly pinched the

material between two of her fingers with a grimace. "Thank God, I don't think

your nose is broken. But you look a fright."

"Yeah," I said. "My head hurts."

"Go get out of that dress so I can wash it," my mother said then, dismissing me.

"Take a couple ibuprofen and maybe lay down for a while."

I nodded and slowly made my way to the stairs to go to my room.

"Did you happen to find out any of the names of those boys that brought you

home?" my mother called up to me, standing at the bottom of the stairs. My feet

paused on the steps, and I shook my head.

"The one who landed on me was Cullen," I told her. "They called him Cullen, I

think."

"Oh. Well… the Cullens have the house right next door. He must be their son.

We'll have to thank them later."

I shook my head as I continued up the stairs. Thank them? The boy had kicked

me in the face. But I guess I should have been happy that she didn't suggest that

I apologize for ruining their football game or something. That would have been

like her. I stripped out of my dress and left it in the laundry basket in the

bathroom before climbing under the cool sheets of my bed. My head was

pounding, and I just wanted to be left alone for a while.

I didn't feel like I had been sleeping long at all, when my mother knocked on my

door to wake me.

"Isabella?" she said. "Get up. I want you to come next door with me." I groaned

and rolled over.

"Do I have to?" I asked, groggily.

"Yes. You have to. Put on something pretty and come downstairs."

I made a face at my closed door before rolling off my bed. Put on something

pretty. I rolled my eyes and obstinately dressed in a pair of shorts and

comfortable t-shirt. My mother was always insisting that I look 'pretty.' My closet

was full of dresses and skirts that she thought a young lady should wear to 'look

her best.' Well… I didn't look my best. I cringed as I looked at myself in the

mirror and ran a brush through my long brown hair. My nose was still swollen and

I had a purplish bruise shadowing the skin under my left eye. I looked like I'd

been in a fight. Surely she couldn't complain if I didn't throw on a party dress just

to walk next door.

She frowned at me when I got downstairs, obviously displeased with my clothes.

She stood there in a pencil-skirt and sleeveless blouse, holding a wrapped plate

of cookies that she'd baked to take next door. Cookies? Iwas the one that nearly

had her nose broken, and she didn't offer me any cookies. At least Lonnie offered

me a smile.

"Nice shiner," he said, playfully cuffing me under the chin.

"Thanks," I mumbled, returning his grin with a small one of my own.

"The boys can be a little rough when they're out there playing. You be careful

now, okay?" he suggested. I nodded. At least he seemed to be on my side.

I followed the two of them up the sand trail that led from our front door to the

next, and listened as Lonnie told my mother about the family that lived next

door. They bought their house a year before Lonnie had purchased his, and they

were supposedly very friendly. Still, I tried to hide behind the two of them as my

mother rang the doorbell. I peeked between my mother and Lonnie's shoulders to

see the woman who answered their summons at her door. She wore her wavy,

caramel colored hair pulled back in a bright blue silk scarf, and had a clean white

dress shirt tucked into a pair of khaki Capri-pants. She was beautiful, and

seemed to step right off the pages of a tourism-guide for perfect vacations.

"Lonnie? Hello! It's nice to see you again!"

"Hello Esme," my step-father grinned. "This is my wife, Renee, and her

daughter… Isabella."

"I heard you got married," the woman smiled. "Congratulations. Renee? Isabella?

Very nice to meet you."

I listened as my mother returned her greeting, and mumbled a "hi" from my

place behind them.

"Carlisle will be upset he missed you. He's been out on the links all day. But will

you be having dinner at the clubhouse later? I'm sure he'd love to catch up…"

"Of course," Lonnie smiled and nodded. "But we really came over to see

Edward…" Edward? I'd only heard him called by his last name right after he'd

landed on top of me.

"Edward? Oh Lord," Esme sighed with a smile. "What has he done now?"

"Oh… nothing!" my mother hurried to reassure her. "There was an accident on

the beach earlier, and it seemed Isabella got caught up in one of the boy's

football games. We just wanted to come over, and thank him for seeing her back

home."

"Oh! Well… hold on. Edward?" she called over her shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Could you come to the door for a minute?"

"I'm playing a game!"

"Edward Anthony… come here!" she said with a sterner tone.

I heard his footsteps approach, and dropped my head. It was bad enough that I

didn't know anyone around here. This was not exactly the way I'd want to have

to be forced into an introduction.

"You remember Lonnie Bradford from next door? This is his wife, Renee, and their

daughter, Isabella."

"Oh yeah. Hi."

I peeked up from under my hair to look at the boy past Lonnie's shoulder, and

kinda wished I hadn't. He was cute. Like really, really cute. His hair was a strange

reddish color, and it stuck up from his head, tangled by the sea wind and his

rowdy playing outside. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of long, cut-off

denim shorts and some flip-flops. And he craned his head to the side to try to see

me around Lonnie's large frame.

"I think this must be yours," Renee said, pushing forward the folded and washed

t-shirt that she held in her hands. "And I made you cookies."

"Thanks?" Edward said. He took the gifts my mother offered, and looked up at his

mother questioningly.

"They told me there was an accident on the beach today?"

I tried to hide behind Lonnie again.

"Oh, right. Yeah. Sorry about your face," Edward spoke to me. I nodded from my

hiding place.

"We just wanted to thank you and the boys for bringing Isabella home. Can you

share the cookies with your friends?"

"Yeah. Sure," he said. "Mom?"

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