Reaching for Stars

Eighteen-year-old Isabella Swan is focused. She dedicates every last minute to her Columbia University education, but when her roommate asks to be accompanied to a party for the band Cullen, Isabella reluctantly agrees. While there, she meets a dashing stranger who completely captivates her, and for the first time in her life, she finds herself falling off course.

Ten-year-old Bree Tanner has a dream to meet the band, Cullen, or more specifically, their lead singer, Edward Masen. When Cullen's summer tour brings them closer than ever, Bree knows it's her chance. Against the wishes of her foster parents, she sets out on a journey to finally meet her idol, but in doing so, she learns more about herself than she ever thought possible.

**Inspired by the movie "August Rush", this story follows both Bree and Bella as they struggle to overcome the hardships they face, and find a way back to the life they were always meant to be living.

*A/N: This is a revised repost of a story that was previously on hiatus. I apologize for the long wait and I hope you will come along on this journey until its completion. Thank you!

Chapter 1 - Music

Bella

"Come on, Bella, I need you!" Alice whined like a child. "A party like this only comes once in a life time."

"That's what you said about the last party you dragged me to," I replied evenly.

"Hey, you should be proud of me for being responsible," she said with a cheesy smile.

"You know, it's not really called a 'designated driver' when we always take a cab."

"Yes, but you know me; if I don't have anyone there with me, I'll get too wasted to even remember how to tell the cabby where I live. Come on, Bella, Cullen is supposed to be there!"

"And who's Cullen again?" I asked completely clueless.

"It's that band that I went and saw the other day. Bella, they are so freaken good, and I doubt they'll even be in the area much longer."

I sighed. If it was anyone asking other than Alice, I would have never even considered it, but she was my roommate, and frankly, the only friend I had in New York. I had become somewhat antisocial since my arrival at Columbia, and usually I convinced myself that it was a good thing because I was there to focus on my studies, but in reality, perhaps I was just a little shy and insecure. I had always been the quietest of my friends back home as well, but that was my role in our group and everyone accepted it as just who I was. In New York, however, being quiet seemed to be a fault - I was constantly being bumped into on the streets, my professors usually made me repeat myself, and flagging down a cab always seemed like a giant feat.

"You just need time to acclimate," my father repeatedly told me every time he'd call to see how I was doing. I seriously began to wonder why the heck I didn't just lie and tell him everything was great.

"Alright… I'll go," I said to Alice, which was immediately followed by her squealing cheers.

"Okay, you only have twenty minutes to get ready… but that will be more than enough for you… Maybe we should give you a mini makeover," she pondered as she looked me up and down.

"In twenty minutes?" I scoffed, trying not to be offended by her obvious knock against my looks.

"Well, at least put on some of my makeup."

"I'm not going so I can impress anyone."

"Fine," she relented, but when we were in the cab heading to the party, she attacked me with powder and mascara. It was rather traumatic.

When we arrived at the party, it was exactly like I knew it would be - overcrowded with horrendously loud music. An hour later, Alice was having the time of her life and my head was pounding so hard that I wanted to end my life. To save myself from suicide, I went for the exit, but then the music abruptly changed and the crowd shifted, resulting in me getting pushed towards the back of the room. To avoid being stuck there indefinitely, I ducked into a hall and somehow found myself ascending a flight of stairs, though I had no idea why or where they possibly headed. Unfortunately, the door at the top was stuck, so instead of having a rational thought that it was probably locked and I should turn around, I threw my shoulder into it and forced it to open.

"Oh," I said, surprised when I realized that I was on the building roof. I turned and shut the door behind me in the hope that other partygoers wouldn't follow me out, and then I walked to the edge of the roof and looked down at the city street below.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice asked from behind me.

I quickly spun around to face him, and for a brief moment, I forgot how to breathe. "Huh?" I asked like a moron. I was never one to lose it over a pretty face, but there was something about the man that made me completely befuddled.

"The city at night," he clarified. "It's beautiful."

"Oh, I don't know. I never really thought about it," I said bashfully.

He had been sitting on a lounge chair beside the door, but he got up and walked over to me and glanced down at the street as well.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he questioned gently.

"No, I'm from a small town on the west coast. There are a bit too many people here for my liking," I said honestly. "It's never quiet."

"Yeah, but perhaps you're just looking at it in the wrong way."

I laughed once. "Are you going to tell me that all these strangers are just friends I haven't met yet?"

He chuckled. "No, but that is a good one. Where'd you hear it, Sesame Street?"

I giggled. "No, but that is probably where my dad first heard it. He does have a thing for Big Bird."

After a minute of strangely comfortable silence, he looked back at me pensively. "So what brings you to The Big Apple?"

I shrugged. "College."

He nodded. "Let me guess, NYU? No wait, Columbia."

"How'd you know?" I asked impressed.

"Actually most of the people here tonight seem to be from Columbia," he admitted sheepishly. "These things usually spread by word of mouth."

"I guess so."

"I don't mean to be presumptuous or anything, but usually people who go to Columbia are smart enough to have their choice of any school they want, so what made you pick here if you hate cities so much?"

I stared off into the distance as I considered his question, and then I looked back at him and told him one of the most honest things I had ever said. "Because it scares me."

There was something in his eyes as he looked at me with a strange intensity. It was like he was staring right through me, and suddenly I felt naked and exposed but strangely enough, it was exhilarating at the same time. "What?" I asked with an anxious grin as he continued to stare.

He shook his head, before finally looking away. "Nothing. You're just unexpected, that's all."

I wanted to respond, but then something below caught both of our attentions. "What is that?" I asked.

"Sounds like a harmonica. Probably a street performer or something."

"At this hour?" I asked surprised. It was strange how the gentle twang of the harmonica could rise above the noise of the street, but it was nice; peaceful.

"Real street performers prefer to play at night when the hustling flow of the business work day is finished. There's a different vibe; a certain cadence that evenings in a big city give off which can't be replicated anywhere else in the world."

"What do you mean?" I asked legitimately interested.

"Well, just listen. What do you hear?"

I froze for a few moments, but all I heard was the racket from the party below us. "I don't hear anything."

"That's because you're not truly listening."

"So, I should tune out the party?"

"No, it's just a part of it. Every bout of laughter, every honking car horn, every clunk from the day's garbage being taken to the curb…"

"It's music," I finished his sentence for him.

"It's a symphony," he corrected. "An orchestra for anyone to enjoy. All you have to do is listen."

"I hear it now," I told him, and I really did. It was magical in a way, and I knew I'd never look at the city the same again.

We continued to listen for a while, but suddenly I realized that for the first time since leaving home, I didn't feel so lost, which strangely enough, only made me miss home more than ever. It was a confusing feeling; one that left me a bit light headed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, reading me way more than I would have ever thought possible from a stranger.

"Nothing."

"Something," he contradicted.

"No, it's silly really. Nothing worth sharing."

"You miss your home?" he guessed.

I huffed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Nah, I think most people feel that way when they leave the familiarity of home for the first time."

"And what about you? Are you away from home, or are you a native Yankee?" I asked, hoping to divert the attention away from my pathetic life.

He smiled wistfully. "I'm from Chicago, so I guess it's not that much different than here. What do you miss the most about your home? I mean, besides family and friends?" he asked, swooping the conversation right back to me.

"I don't know, the stars maybe. The high buildings and bright lights don't let too much of the sky through."

"That's true, but again, maybe you're just not looking at it the right way."

"Meaning?" I asked with a smile, already knowing he had another beautiful lesson to teach me.

"Come here," he said before grabbing my hand. The moment his skin touched mine there was an immediate physical reaction that zinged between us. It was electrifying; a spark stronger than any other I felt before. He looked at me as if he felt it too, but he just smiled and pulled me behind him towards the opposite side of the roof. "Look," he insisted while pointing out over the city skyline.

My heart jumped. "Stars!" I said excitedly. It wasn't really stars; in fact, it was overcast that night, but the lights illuminating from all the buildings' windows were almost just as amazing. It surprised me that I never noticed it before, but then again, I was always too busy to pause long enough to truly see anything. "Thank you for showing this to me…" I let my words trail off because I hadn't learned his name yet.

"Edward," he answered with a crooked smile. He still had my hand grasped firmly in his, but he squeezed it tenderly as almost a way to shake my hand for the greeting.

"I'm Bella," I said with a returning smile.

"Well, Bella, it's nice to meet you."

My heart fluttered. "It's nice to meet you too."