K checkit: I know NOTHING about Twilight apart from the countless reviews and criticisms i've read and from the first couple pages i've read in the Amazon.com "look inside" page. Whoopie. I don't know anything about the main characters aside from the first seven pages. What i have done is rewritten the first seven pages below in a manner more befitting a true author. Judge for thyself plzkthx.
Twilight: The JenovaII Edition:
I looked out the open window on the way to the Phoenix Sky Harbor airport. Dry, orange sand rolled in spirals along the ground between houses. Every so often, a clump of dry sticks and grass would collect and bowl itself along, rolling in and out of the orange-red spirals as if they were playing together. The sun was high; the mirages on the highway appeared to be waving me good-bye.
Pulling on my favorite shirt – white lace eyelets, sleeveless, cool, and pretty – I accidentally let out a sigh. My mother gave a quick glance away from the road.
“Are you sure you want to go, Bella?” she asked again.
I sat up, forced a smile. “No, I'm sure, Mom.”
Every summer, I had gone up to the dreary city of Forks, Washington to visit my father. Forks is one of the cloudiest places in the United States, making it in a permanent state of winter gloom. Even the summer is mostly gray. Every time I visit, I feel like Persephone, forced to endure the gloom of Hades before returning to the warm – though dusty – paradise that is Phoenix. Mom had managed to escape the joyless world of Washington when I was still a baby, but my summer visits always reminded me how lucky I was to live in Phoenix ten months out of the year.
That was about to change. I knew it wasn't fair to force my gloom-loving father out into the sunny world in Arizona. I had agreed to spend the last couple high school years in Washington, which I hoped would actually work in my favor. I could feel the superiority complex – my friends called it 'Senioritis' – creep up on me, although this year I would only be a junior. Maybe a change of perspective would make me pay a little more attention in class.
I thought about the puffy down jacket in my carry-on, wondering how long the summer weather lasted in Forks. Another sigh slipped out.
“Are you sure –”
“Mom, it's okay. This is something I need to do. I'm sure it'll be good for me.”
She frowned, an older version of what I had seen in the mirror this morning. “Your room's always ready if you want to come back. Just give me a call, okay?”
“Yeah, don't worry. Say 'bye to Phil for me when he gets off work.”
“I will. Say hello to Charlie for me. And let him know you're not allowed around the drunk tank.”
I stifled a laugh. “Charlie Swan, the Andy Griffith of Forks.”
She laughed out loud, and I couldn't help but join in. The joke wasn't that funny, but laughing seemed to relax us both.
At the airplane terminal, my mother hugged me for the last time that year. I could tell that she had to force herself to let go.
Four hours later, I landed in Port Angeles, some miles away from Forks. I groaned at the dark clouds around the airport. Rain is always predictable in the northeast, but I was hoping beyond hope that a little sunshine might greet me instead.
I groaned again, spotting Police Chief Swan outside his patrol car, waiting for me. Last time we spoke, I had hinted at him finding me an affordable car. It was impossible to look impressive riding a black-and-white.
“Hey Bells,” he said, hugging me with one arm, ignoring my grimace at the nickname I despised. I could almost taste the awkwardness.
“Hey...Dad.” The word seemed unnatural. In conversation, he was “Charlie” or “my father.”
“How's your mom?”
“She and Phil are doing great.”
“Only got one bag?” he said. His face had turned red at the mention of Phil, but he played it cool.
“Yeah. Not a lotta winter clothes in Arizona.”
“Guess not.” He scratched the bridge of his nose nervously. Stepping into the cruiser, I noted how he looked nothing like me. “Hey, I think I found a car for you. Pretty cheap, too”
“Oh, great!” Yes! He'd gotten the hint! “What kind?”
“Well, actually, it's a truck.”
“Oh.” I tried to hide my disappointment. “Uh, that's still pretty good. How'd you find it?”
“Remember Billy Black down at La Push?”
I totally didn't remember. I stared, blinking, trying to force the name into memory.
“La Push? The Indian reservation? Remember, he'd go fishing with us sometimes?”
“Oh, I remember now.” I didn't.
“Well, I'm not gonna lie; it was a pretty old truck. But he's been working on the engine. Runs like new, Bells. It's a good little truck.”
An old, little, potentially junky truck. I bit my lip.
“You don't like it,” he declared, disappointed.
“How much is it?” I said hesitantly.
He cleared his throat. “I kinda already bought it.”
“You didn't have to do that.”
“Come on, it's a homecoming gift. I know you said you wanted to buy it yourself, but now it's all ready for you to just jump in and drive.”
There was a long pause. He was gauging my reaction.
“Thanks,” I said at last. He seemed satisfied. Truthfully, I was a little excited. If it had four wheels and a working engine, it would be more than I already had.
