The Diary

Chapter One: The Red Dress

Hello one and all! Haven't been here in a while! So, how is everybody?!

Anyway, this is a story about Renesmee and what happens after she finds her father's diary and the account of her birth. She'll have to find herself all over again, because she was never who she thought she was. And she'll have to do it alone (I feel like that's always my style…)

Anyway, enjoy! No prologue, this time, just starting off.

OOO

I stared at the silky dress my aunt had just shoved into my hands. It was slick to the touch, the ruffles of fabric slipping through my fingers like running water. It was beautiful, really. But it was also fire engine red.

I gulped, my hands clenching around the dress tighter than necessary. "Um, Alice?"

She turned, surprised by the tone in my voice. It wasn't the first time. More often than not, Alice was caught off guard by my reactions to her schemes. "Yes?"

And that was a question, something she only used around me and Jacob, unless she was being sarcastic with my father. All her words did was remind me of how abnormal I was, as if that weren't evident enough, today of all days.

But Alice, being Alice, saw the hesitancy in my expression and sighed loudly. "What's wrong with it?"

"Isn't it a little . . . ." I gazed back down at the short dress. "Bold?"

"Bold," repeated my aunt flatly. "It's your seventh birthday."

My free hand flew to my curls in nervousness, and Alice promptly swatted it away. "Stop that," she commanded. "I will not have you destroying my masterpiece."

"Why does it have to be such a big deal?" I whined. "Who does this, anyway? It's just seven years."

"Yeah," said Alice, her eyes narrowing, "since you were born. And look at you—you look as if you could pass for twenty-one!" She seized my hand and twirled me around, approval written all over her perfect face. "You're gorgeous, Renesmee. Now go change and stop acting like your mother. I can only deal with one of you."

Defeatedly, I lifted a sweaty palm to her cheek, showing her a picture of my father with a cow beside him. "Daddy's going to have one of those."

"Your daddy will kill me, not you," Alice informed me, much too brightly for the occasion. "Besides," she added gleefully, "he can't have a cow. That's impossible."

I fled to the bathroom and pretended to stop listening, closing my eyes as I pulled on the dress. I zipped up the back, all the while refusing to open my eyes. After blindly smoothing the fabric against my skin, I opened them to see the red dress in action.

Against my pale skin, the red silk was mesmerizing, flattering in all the right places. It wasn't too tight, which I was thankful for. And not surprisingly, Alice had been correct once again, even without her flawless gift—the cut was beautiful on me, modest yet mature. The soft ruffles at the edges gave me the slightest hint of "Daddy's Little Girl."

"Do you like it?" called Alice.

I was still staring at my reflection, my eyes burning from lack of moisture. "Yes," I breathed.

She would hear.

OOO

I could hear my father downstairs, arguing with Alice over the red dress. My fingers fluttered over the soft material as I hid at the top of the stairs, trying to decide why I was so nervous. This birthday couldn't be so different from my other birthdays, could it?

But with my other birthdays, I had never had any problems with the frilly dresses Alice had put me in. On my other birthdays, Jasper hadn't had to repeatedly try to calm my nerves and fail at doing so. During my other birthdays, I'd never been scared of what might come next. I'd never been faced with the prospect of not getting older.

I stood there, against the wall, afraid to face my future.

And then, like jumping into a pool of chilling water, it hit me. Since I didn't grow anymore, I was no eligible to attend school without attracting unwanted attention. High school. My nose wrinkled in disgust. I had already learned everything Carlisle had wanted me to know, which included being fluent in Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, French, German, and, unfortunately, Russian. I was a whiz at math. I had perfect grammar, and I knew all my history in every country I could speak in. And science . . . well it went without saying. Science was my thing.

So why did I ever have to go to school? I would have to interact with people, something I'd never really done without constant assistance. I'd never been successful of making any friends outside of my family—how were you supposed to be friends with normal people when you were so beyond that point? What if, when I went to school, I accidentally let something slip? What if I thirsted for my friend's blood? What if I killed the teacher?

I would be such a freak, that's what.

"Renesmee."

I opened my tightly screwed eyes to find Jake standing in front of me. "Hey," I whispered, trying to make my voice sound normal.

He saw through it immediately, raising one thick eyebrow. But he said nothing about my lies, instead choosing to greet me classically: "Hey, Beautiful," he saluted with a smile, kissing my hand. "Why are you hiding out up here? You've got a full house of people waiting to see the officially-an-adult Miss Cullen."

I averted my gaze from his blinding, broad smile. "You know exactly why."

"It's just another year," he reminded me.

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe for a normal person. For me, it's about two and a half, all rolled into twelve short months. So much of my life has already rushed past me. And what if, Jake," I blurted randomly, "what if I don't make friends—"

"Friends? This is what you're worried about?"

I nodded vigorously, probably messing up my hairdo.

"Ness." Jake closed my hand in his two massive ones. "People will love you."

"But—"

"Ness," he repeated with a completely serious face. This did not happen often. "We take it one step at a time, just as we've done everything else before. Right now, that step is having a good time at this killer party your overly enthusiastic aunt has put together." He smiled again, making me want to smile, too. "Okay?"

"But what if they don't like me?" I refused to let this subject go—it was important to me.

Jake sighed, looking to the ceiling. "You know what?" He could see the serious attitude wasn't working, so he switched gears. "If people don't love you, Nessie, I will bash their heads in, all right?"

My eyebrows shot up. "Oh yes, I'm quite sure that will help with my popularity. I'll become so likeable with a violent, murderous, werewolf boyfriend. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Thanks so much for the support." He kissed my forehead and led me away from the wall. "Shall we?"

The funny thing was, Jake's joke worked. The sentimental thing worked sometimes, but usually I just needed someone to take away the edge. Jake was the man to take care of that, although my entire family could be hysterical if they wanted to. But Jake . . . he always knew exactly what to say.

"Don't try and sound proper," I told him as he led me to the stairwell. "It doesn't suit you."

"Ouch."

Down the stairs he led me, hand in hand, to the family I loved. There stood Esme in a flawless white gown, a radiant smile on her face with my grandfather beside her. As always, he had a book tucked away in his free hand, looking embarrassed as he saw me notice it. All the men today were wearing dress suits, courtesy of Alice, no doubt. Emmett, who was cheering me on with whoops and whistles beside a equally ecstatic Alice, was wearing a less traditional suit. He'd ripped the sleeves so his muscles could breathe, and his tie was loose (he looked ridiculous). Alice was more glamorous as she shouted for me; her dress was black, as usual, sparkling under the dim lamplight. Rosalie and Jasper, painfully embarrassed by their spouses, clapped politely and smiled warmhugely as I entered. The wolves that had attended—Embry, Seth, Quil, and Leah—were more enthusiastic, jumping in place in anticipation of my arrival.

And then my gaze fell on my parents, who looked just as miserable as they were happy. My mother's eyes shone with impossible tears, her lips trembling behind her hand. She clasped my father's hand tightly in her own, as my father gave me a quick once over. I could tell he was relieved that the dress was not as horrible as Alice had let on, but he seemed sad to see me so grown up.

As I went over to hug them, suddenly feeling better about school, my father pulled me into an awkward, one-armed hug, seeing as his other hand was taken. "Renesmee," he said warmly, smiling down at me. "Wow, it's difficult to believe you're eighteen."

"Seven," my mother corrected him harshly. "She's seven."

He gave my mother a sheepish grin and a squeeze on her hand. All this year, she'd had trouble coping with the looming idea of me getting older. She'd repeatedly maintained that she wasn't ready for me to grow up yet, while starting fixatedly at the baby clothes I'd only worn once. And when Jake and I had begun the couple business shortly after my sixth birthday, she'd completely flipped out, although I'm positive she'd been expecting it for the past five years.

So now, I was more worried about her reaction to my dress. She gave me a quick once over, just like my father, and pulled me into an iron embrace. "Oh, sweetie," she whispered, "I'm going to miss you so much."

I met my dad's confused gaze over her shoulder. What was she talking about? Neither of us had a clue.

"Bella," chimed Jake, trying to cover up a laugh, "she's not going off to college. She's not even leaving the house."

"I know," said my mom, only hugging me tighter.

Emmett made an immediate sound of protest: "You're hogging her, Bella!" So, she finally let go, her hand flitting out to smooth my hair back, a motion so automatic and so classic that it made my heart break.

"Now give me a hug!" Emmett exclaimed as he leapt for me. Sensing danger, I nimbly sidestepped his attack, one of the advantages to being a dancer. He crashed into the floor, ripping his shirt further.

Esme gasped angrily, her previously happy expression turning murderous. She started for Emmett, but Edward held up a practiced hand and reach down to grasp my uncle's shredded collar, as if Emmett couldn't get up by himself.

Jake watched the scene with bemused interest. He never got sick of watching my reckless family and their brawls. Sometimes, he wanted to join in, but my mother and I insisted that it was too dangerous—what would happen if he got bitten? And then he'd look at me, and the wistfulness would die away.

Now, my father glared at Emmett. "Now, how many times have I told you—?"

"She's breakable," finished Emmett sourly, shooting me a glare. "I know."

"Then stop lunging at her like a maniac."

Although I was strong (and now immortal), I was still human. I still bled. My bones were breakable. I was not as strong as a vampire. That was another thing I hated about being a freak—my own family had to show restraint around me.

"And stop thinking like that, Renesmee." My father shot me a look. "That's not true."

Emmett looked alarmed. "What's she thinking about me? What'd she say?"

"Nothing," replied my father, smiling. Although he was being truthful at the moment, Emmett would never know for sure. "Now go hug her. Carefully, Emmett! Carefully!"

I laughed as Emmett engulfed me into a hug, swinging me back and forth. "Some careful hug," my father muttered, but Emmett ignored him, grinning at me.

"Dang, Kid! You're seven years old." He held me out at arms length. "Somehow, I pictured you different."

"With a bow in my hair?" I asked sarcastically, feeling annoyed by my abnormal growth spurts.

Emmett laughed. "Yeah, something like that."

He was shoved out of the way by Rosalie, who excitedly caught both of my hands and wrapped me into a hug. "Oh, Ness, you look so pretty. That would be a beautiful dance dress, you know." She winked.

"She knows," responded my father bitterly. He wasn't completely on board with my dancing, seeing as it could be immodest at times. "She already thought about it."

Rose mockingly raised her eyebrows in question. What's up with him? said her facial expression as she stepped aside for Jasper and Alice.

"I knew it," said my shorter aunt, pleased with my appearance. "I knew it would be gorgeous. Although it's always more difficult," she brooded, "when you can't see your model."

"Sorry, Alice," I apologized. She laughed and blew me a "fashonista" kiss, something I was used to after all these years.

Jasper smiled at me. "Hey," he said. "Who knew you clean up good? You're always covered in dirt every time I see you."

That was in reference to my constant training I got from him. Everyday he would take me out to the forest, and we'd fight in case the Volturi—bastards that they are—came knocking. Every time he beat me, I got pummeled into the ground, and therefore covered in dirt.

"Thanks, Uncle Jazz," I mumbled.

There was a brief conversation with Carlisle and Esme, in which my grandfather asked me how I felt today, now that it had been a month since my last growing pain. Esme looked as tearful as my mother, and before I could really talk to her, Alice announced it as time for dinner.

Dinner was always extremely weird in this house, whenever I chose to have normal food. Jacob and I would eat, and the rest of my family would stare at our repulsive meals, looks of clear disgust on their faces.

"Smells good, Mrs. Cullen!" Seth called to Esme, falling into a chair. It was something he did often.

"I'm glad," replied my young grandmother, setting a plate of chicken and spaghetti squash in front of him. "That squash is healthy for you," she chided as he poked it.

"Shouldn't have told me that, Mrs. Cullen," he joked, but wolfed into it anyway, his eyes eager with hunger.

I watched Seth with a mixture of amusement and amazement. I had never understood how one person could eat so much.

Leah, to my surprise, sat beside me and offered me a smile. I'd tried my best to include her lately, although she wasn't always a big fan of my existence. At first she'd been annoyed because I'd ruined her plans to run away, and then . . . then I was just too nice. Uncomfortably nice to her, she admitted later.

And now we'd become something short of friends.

Both dinner and the cake were amazing. I was ecstatic once it was over, however, so I could finally just relax and give up the dressy charade. As the wolves filtered out to go home, I fell easily into the seat beside Jacob to take a long breath.

"You haven't opened your presents, Nessie."

I opened an eye to glare at Alice. "Do I have to?"

"I thought you loved presents." Genuinely confounded, she leaned against the arm of my chair with a puzzled expression. "What's wrong with presents?"

"I do," I replied hastily, in no mood to disappoint her. "I'm just tired."

"That's not it," cut in Jacob harshly. My eyes swiveled towards him, begging him to shut his mouth. "She doesn't want to open the presents because she's afraid they'll relate to school."

My head fell into my hands. Never mind—Jacob never knew the right thing to say. Feeling a knife embed itself in my back, I raised my guilty gaze back to Alice's expectant one.

"School?" she repeated blankly. She did that a lot with me. "This has to deal with school, Renesmee?"

My reply was meek. "Yes."

A loud, unnecessary sigh escaped my aunt's rigid lips. "I don't understand your fear of it. It's boring, it's tedious, and the bell rings—your done."

"But the people," I added uneasily. "The people scare me."

"The weaklings?" clarified Emmett. I threw him a glare. "How do they scare you? They're twigs!"

My father beat me to responding. "She's afraid of what they'll think of her. She's afraid of not making friends."

"Who needs friends?" asked Emmett. "You have us."

"I believe your missing the point," chimed Rosalie, an annoyed smile on her face as she explained the situation to her confused lover. "She wants to be normal—I understand the feeling, unlike some people."

"Rose, we've all felt that way." Carlisle's voice was even, but I knew he'd had this conversation with Rosalie many times before. "Everyone in this room understands how it feels to be different."

Bella stood gracefully from her chair, thoughtful. She looked at me, and then Jacob, and then she smiled. "Think about this, Renesmee," she told me, her eyes lighting up. "Everyone at your school will have family problems, or just personal problems. Nobody's free of issues. Their dad could be an alcoholic, or their parents could be split up, or their mother might be too busy to pay attention to them. Sweetie, everybody at your school will have issues. Not just you."

I understood what she was saying, but the thoughts of our weekly activities chewed a hole in my stomach. "Mom. We hunt."

"So do southern country boys," she replied easily. "It's all about the perspective."

My answer to this newfound logic was heavy with sarcasm. "Oh. So I guess they drink the animals' blood, too, right? Not to mention we live in the North."

"Renesmee," my father scolded. "Enough with the backtalk. I know you're nervous but it's not fair to snap at your mother."

I lifted my gaze back to my mother's, whose was purely unfazed by my retort. I knew she would understand my apology.

"But I can't make friends," I told everyone, my eyes pleading with them to understand. "I've never had to do it before. I don't relate to any of them." I turned my pleading gaze to Carlisle, begging him to understand. "Can't I just stay homeschooled?"

"Absolutely not," Edward replied at once, cutting my grandfather to the chase. My guess was that Carlisle hadn't seen any problem with my question, and Edward had disagreed. "You need human experiences, Nessie. It's what keeps you sane."

"High school?" snorted Jacob. "Sane? I think not."

"You aren't helping," growled my father, and Bella placed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

Carlisle had remained silent through the entire exchange. He hadn't said one word about my proposition, thanks to my father, and whenever the subject of my schooling came up, he seemed almost indifferent towards it. "You already know everything you want to know, Ren. I don't understand the fascination your father has with human experiences, but this is something that you'll have to take up with him."

So I had, time and time again. And over and over, he had denied my request. Carlisle was my last hope.

"Edward," he said now, tone thoughtful and almost amused.

My father scowled. "No."

"I don't think it is severely important that we send Renesmee to school so soon," he said anyway. I knew my father had already heard this in his thoughts, but my guess was that my grandfather was talking to me, too. "She's just turned eighteen"—a mumbled seven came from my mother—"and perhaps you're overestimating her confidence."

"All of us were nervous when school began," he interrupted. "Right, Jasper?"

Jasper's expression became slightly offended, but he turned to me apologetically. "I'm staying out of this one, Nessie. Sorry."

I waved him off, my gaze turning back to Carlisle. He continued now, stronger than before. "Perhaps," he said again, ignoring the comment from his eldest son, "a compromise is in order. You're well aware of compromises, aren't you?"

I was almost positive I was missing something. Everyone in the room suddenly went rigid with suppressed laughter—except my mom, who smiled sheepishly, and my father, who looked extremely annoyed at some breach of security. Awkwardly, Jacob slid down in his seat.

"Don't worry about it, Renesmee," my father told me, staring coldly at my grandfather. Edward was in a hell of a mood tonight. "I'm going to ignore that."

Oops.

"Carlisle," Edward said, "this is ridiculous. So you have a soft spot for her—that doesn't mean she can be excluded from society."

Carlisle chuckled. "I never said that."

"You thought it."

"I did not."

My father was quiet, sensing something in Carlisle's voice. Instantly, I was transferred to an image of a small boy getting caught stealing cookies. Edward didn't look at me, but I was sure he'd seen my metaphor. I wanted to show Jake, but it was a tense moment, and i figured I'd sit it out..

"I said," Carlisle continued, his smile returning, "that a compromise was in order. We haven't exactly prepared Renesmee for the unknown. Maybe we should enroll in school in the winter, after Christmas, and that way she gets a little more time to prepare and to conquer her fears."

I smiled at my grandfather. His proposition was perfect.

My father was reluctant, but he instantly knew he was outnumbered as the choruses of agreements echoed through the room. He looked at me and asked me a silent question: "Are you sure?"

I was positive.

He turned back to Carlisle. "Of course. The compromise makes perfect sense."

OOO

Okay! Renesmee is a wonder child! Cool!

Anyway, this is just sort of a background check. The real story will start in the next chapter, which shouldn't take to long because I've already started it. Happy reading!

And the presents Renesmee gets are in the next chapter.

Jamie.