The characters, of course, belong to Stephenie Meyer. I'm just taking them out for a spin.

Dawn broke over the trees and shone through the window, awaking me from my slumber. I leisurely stretched and yawned, remembering with a grimace what day it was. First day of Senior Year. Damn and blast.

I heard my mother's musical laughter echo off the stone walls, coming from the general direction of the living room. I envied my parents, sometimes, in that they never had to sleep. They could stay up and talk or read or…whatever parents do when children go to sleep. Since I was only half-vampire, my human side needed nightly recharging. Sometimes I warred with insomnia, as one side fought against the other's need for rest. Story of my life, that.

I was thankful that I would at least be alone today, without my usual escort. Jacob was back at La Push, taking care of "things", he said. Jacob's father had recently passed away, and he had affairs to attend to. He nearly killed him for us to be apart, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. I was going to have enough issues starting a new school on my own, besides having to explain why a large, nearly 7-foot man was shadowing me. Jacob had always struggled while I was in school, trying to balance his need to be near me with the reality that he couldn't actually be in school with me. Even now, while I was close in age to him (at least, physically if not in reality), he still looked too old for high school.

I didn't know how long he'd be gone, but it would be for several days. I cared for him so, but I was getting a bit sick of the consistent togetherness. A break would be good.

I arose and padded into the hall, toward the living room. A forced a loud yawn to alert my parents of my arrival. I learned long ago to do that. Even with my father's gift, sometimes he was…distracted.

My mother was curled up on my father's lap, smiling broadly at him. He, as usual, looked at her with utter adoration. They turned simultaneously at my approach.

"Good morning, Nessie," my father said to me. I saw my mother make a face. How she hated that nickname. Jacob gave it to me shortly after I was born, and the name stuck, much to my mother's chagrin.

"Morning," I replied. I padded over to the chair across from the sofa and sat down.

"Would you like some breakfast?" my mother asked, rising from my father's lap. I pretended not to notice him give her a quick squeeze as she rose.

"Yes, please."

She glided gracefully into the kitchen. My father's attention turned to me.

"So, Reneesmee," he asked, "Are you ready for your new school?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"That's good. It won't be so bad. Just tedious, if my experience is any indication. Had I not met your mother, I would have gone mad."

"Yes, so you've told me." Like, a hundred times, Dad.

"Told you what?" asked my mother as she returned, with a tall glass mug, a slight wisp of steam rising from the contents.

"Had I not met you, I'd have gone mad with boredom," my father said, his eyes twinkling. My mother handed me my breakfast and went back to sit with my father on the sofa. She sat next to him this time, causing my father to turn towards her, arms open. She leaned back into his waiting arms, snuggling against his granite frame.

I concentrated on my meal, both to avoid the scene and to enjoy the warmth emanating from the mug into my hands. I tentatively took a sip of the thick, warm blood to test its temperature, then began drinking it in more heartily. I closed my eyes and smiled as I felt the warm liquid go down.

"Mountain lion, my favorite," I sighed. My father chuckled.

"Yes, you were always like your father in that way," sighed my mother. "He went hunting for some last night just for you to have on your special day."

I hated hunting. I couldn't quite get over my human aversion to drinking lustily from an animal's neck. However, human food didn't really appeal to me all that much. There were few things that I liked, such as a rare steak and a good baked potato, but primarily I needed blood to survive. So, my parents would collect some when they hunted. I didn't know how they did it, and I really didn't ask, since I had no intention of ever doing it myself. I just opened the refrigerator whenever I was thirsty, and it was always well-stocked. My family always attended to my needs, whatever they were.

Only this time, someone else's needs superseded mine for once. Namely, my Grandpa Charlie's. Since his best friend Billy, Jacob's father, had died, he hadn't been doing too well. My Aunt Alice had seen him in such a despondent state in one of her visions that my mother demanded that we return to Forks. She needed to be near him, to care for him if he needed her.

My father wanted to originally stay with the family in Canada, but my mother argued that, not only could she see Charlie, but it would allow Jacob not to have to be too far from the reservation. Since Aunt Alice couldn't see the wolves, she didn't know what would happen if he stayed with us or if he returned home. He was already torn about having to leave me, but my mother said that if we were nearby, he could attend to what he needed to and not be too far from me. Killing two birds with one stone, she said.

My father, never having been able to deny her anything, acquiesced, and so here we are. The rest of the family stayed behind, promising to visit once we were settled. We moved back into the stone cottage we first lived in when I was born. My mother said the main house was too cold without everyone there. The cottage was cozier for our needs. Frankly, I could have used a little more space between us, some nights especially.

I took another sip of my breakfast, trying to draw strength from it. I had a feeling it was going to be a long day.