136A/N: Hey, everyone. Welcome to my first ever fanfiction.
I was never really into the Bella/Cullens part of Twilight, but I quite like the wolfpack, so they'll be the focus of this story.
A few fair warnings:
I'm not a native speaker of English, so this is a kind of a writing exercise for me (feel free to offer advice).
I might stray from cannon.
The M rating is mostly there to be safe. (Also, language)
I hope you'll read and enjoy this story!
Declaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Kim Connweller was named after the pink Power Ranger, Kimberly Hart. It was her most shameful secret.
It had been her sister's doing. Lizzie was five when their mother was pregnant with Kim and she made a bet with their father: if the baby was a girl, Lizzie would get to name it. No questions asked. Their father was so sure it was going to be a boy that he went along with it. The moral of the story? Don't get cheeky with your kids.
Kim supposed that it could have gone worse. She could have been named Barbie. Or Millicent, after her great grandmother. Still, she couldn't help but wonder whether her life would have been any different had her sister chosen another name. Like Amelia, after Amelia Earhart. Or Janice, like Janice Joplin? But Lizzie had been far too young to have any idea or to actually care about who those women were. Her heroes had to be present, tangible, close to her heart. So, when a nimble, gymnast heroine in a pink bodysuit appeared on their second-hand TV, that was that.
On the other hand, Kim thought that there seemed to be too many Kimberlys in the world and the name seemed …well, plain. Like herself. A Matilda, for example, would write thought-provoking articles about the school cafeteria and the gooey mess they served as food. An Anastasia could steal any boy's heart. Even the heart of the nicest, funniest, most handsome boy at Quileute Tribal School – Jared Cameron. Anastasia would have asked him something and charmed him with her wit and beauty. She would be smart, but not condescending, self-assured but also down-to-earth.
Unfortunately, Kim wasn't an Anastasia, so she settled for starring at Jared's back in their history class. It was a nice back. His shoulders had gotten broader during the summer and his green T-shirt was tightly stretched over them. What would happen if she touched one of those shoulders? What would he say? What would she say? Would she stutter and go red? Her fingers were tingling. He was right in front of her. Could she…? Cluck, cluck, cluck, you chicken. Touch him, if you dare. Do it, do it, do it… Her right hand moved towards him. Sweat formed on her palms, like little drops of mildew. Do it, do it, do it! her mind chanted loudly. She could do it. She could. "Hey, do you have a pencil?" she would ask. And Jared would smile. And the next time they met, he would say hi. And…
BRRRRIIIINNG! The school bell rang loudly and she jerked backwards, pulling back her arm so fast that she almost fell out of her chair. For a second, she just sat frozen, her eyes wide and her mouth half open, waiting. Thankfully, Jared hadn't noticed anything. He was packing his things, as blissfully indifferent to her existence as ever. Maybe it is better this way, considering you are a pussy.
Kim sighed and started packing. Things were never going to change. She would always be one of the invisibles, one of those who were assured that their life would start and flourish as soon as they left for college, if they could afford it. But what happened if she couldn't? And what about the Carpe Diem shit they were constantly reminded of? How was she supposed to live in the present, if the present wouldn't cooperate?
As she gathered her things, she couldn't shake the feeling that somebody was watching her. She tried to ignore it, but it felt like a hot tickle on the right side of her neck. She turned right and was met with the steely eyes of Paul Lahote. She blushed instantly. He smirked at her and his dark eyebrows lifted in question. Kim's mouth went dry. Paul saw everything and he knew. He was in the school basketball team. So was Jared. They knew each other. They talked. Possibly in the dressing room, in front of other guys. She stuffed the rest of her things into her bag and hurried out of the classroom, almost knocking over one of the chairs on her way out. She tried to swallow but couldn't. He knew. Paul Lahote knew. Well, fuck.