So this story is something I wrote a LONG time ago. When I was in the sixth grade, back when twilight was still somewhat new. I used to have it on Quizilla, but I accidently deleted that account (don't ask how), so I decided to post it up here. Feel free to say whatever you want about it, like or hate, I won't care. It all takes place a few years after the end of the last book. All twilight characters belong to Stephanie Meyer, my characters belong to me.
Blistering, unbearable heat. That’s what I’ve known all my life. That’s all I’ve known my entire life. Sure the clouds will sometimes bring salvation, and maybe on rare occasions will dispense some valued precipitation, but most of the time it’s just heat.
Los Angeles, California. One of the most popular tourists sites in America. Why, I’ll never understand. Yeah, we have Hollywood. Whoopee (please note sarcasm)! A bunch of dirty streets with stars on the floor with the names of celebrities, many of which I don’t even know. Although I don’t really know any old celebrities. And beaches, we got that too. Perfect for getting sand in your bathing suit and shark attacks. (I know they’re rare, but what if I’m one of the few people that it happens to?) And sunshine- don’t even get me started.
The only thing I’ve ever like about Los Angeles is Disneyland and Six Flags. But my mom hasn’t taken me since I was 5 and couldn’t go on any of the cool rides.
So, yeah. Basically I hate Los Angeles. I hate all hot places, but I can’t really hate all the other places as much cuz I’ve never been to them. I was not born for heat. My mom’s always complaining that I spike up the air conditioning bill all time. What does she expect me to do? Live in a freezer instead? Beats living in a sauna, though. Actually, that’s not such a bad idea.
Sorry, I was so busy with my ranting I didn’t realize I never introduced myself. My name is Evelyn Deloria. Born and raised in- never mind, you probably already guessed that. I live with my divorced mother in a huge, three stories, and 7 bedroom house. Yep, me and my mom only, living a huge house. Can you say quiet? I swear I started to hear voices.
My mom and I don’t talk a lot. It’s not that we don’t get along or anything, it’s just that she’s always so busy. Working, dating her boyfriend, working, volunteer work, working. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good mom, but we just have different views and interests.
My dad lives in Washington, on some Native American Reservation called La Push. Sounds more French to me, but it’s cool. I used to go there every summer, which I loved, considering the constant clouds and downpour, even during the summer, but I stopped when I was about eight or something. My mom didn’t want me going anymore, and my dad was ok with it. Or at least that what he told my mom. He told me that he would miss me like crazy and to come back as soon as possible.
I wanted to go back the very next summer, but my mom kept planning vacations and arranging for me to go to art camp and stuff. Which, I’ll admit were cool. One year we went to Spain for almost the whole summer. And as much as I despise the heat, no weather could ruin the shopping, beauty, and the boys. That reminds me, I still don’t have a boyfriend, and I’m sixteen. Oh my gosh, I’ve never even kissed a boy before! Let’s stay away from my sad love life. Another summer my mom set me up for an animal training course, like they do in the movies. Oh! I almost forgot Angel.
I love animals, so for my thirteenth birthday, my mom finally got a puppy for me. I named her Angel, because that was what she looked like to me: an Angel. She’s a German Sheppard (my fav type of dog) mixed with a Siberian Husky (my 2nd fav type of dog). Her face is mostly white, and then fades into black. Her tummy is white with a tinge of light brown, as is her chest. Her big brown eyes are what I love the most about her. It’s what drew me to her in the first place.