My Own Personal Sun [A Jacob Black Story]

My Own Personal Sun [A Jacob Black Story] {Part 2}

SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW:

            “Would you change the station? This is horrifying.” I teased, punching Kyle’s shoulder.

            He rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Summer. You’re just upset because this music is beyond you.”

            “Beyond me?” I snorted, slapping my knee sarcastically. “Kyle, you’re hilarious.”

            “Har har.”

            We were driving to Forks, Washington—we’d inherited a house there, as well as some cash; it was in our mother’s will.

            I hadn’t known my mother very well; I was only two when she skipped out on us, leaving my father to care for us. Kyle, my brother, was eight when she left, but he still insists he doesn’t remember her very well. Why my mother gave us a house and some money after she died despite not knowing us is a mystery, but I didn’t question it.

            Three years ago, when I was fourteen, my father passed away, due to cancer; ever since then, I’d been living with Kyle. He took good care of me, and decided that coming to Forks would be a good, fresh start—and an adventure—for both of us.

            I didn’t argue.

            The car slowed, and the vast sea of green outside my window came to a quiet halt.

            “Home sweet home,” Kyle muttered, hopping out of the car and taking a deep breath. I followed after him, glancing at the house in front of us.

            The house itself wasn’t too large—but compared to the others’ surrounding it, it was fairly big. It was white with green trimming, and a big tree—I didn’t know what kind—was growing by the left side of it, facing the dark forest. There were several big windows, and then one smaller one on the side, that I assumed was a bedroom.

            “I call dibs on the master!” I yelled.

            Kyle punched my arm. “Too bad, kiddo. It’s mine.”

            I didn’t put up a fight. “Fine. I like small rooms, anyways.” I sniffed, raising my chin defiantly, then walking into the house, leaving Kyle to pick up all the luggage. I gave him a little wave before I walked in.

            I heard him bellow from outside, “You’re a brat! Ugh…!”

            Ignoring him, I focused on the pretty house in front of me. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was beautiful—spiral staircase, maple wood, lovely yellow paint, hardwood floors—everything I had been hoping it would be. I ran up the staircase—and trying not to be dizzy—and ran down a long hallway, glancing in every room until I found my perfect bedroom.

            It wasn’t the master bedroom, so Kyle would be happy. It was still a good size, though, and was right beside the large tree in the yard; it faced the sunset, which was tinted a mysterious pink at the moment.