Prologue

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Stubborn. That's all I am to my Uncle is stubborn. I think he needs an updated vocabulary. At least Carlisle understands my denial to return to Forks, Washington. I don't want to phase (if that's even possible for a weird-bred like me). I don't want to be a shapeshifter just yet. I'm only sixteen for crying out loud! And, sure, I'm living under a tree right now in South Dakota, barley surviving off of twenty dollars a week. But considering my diet is partly animal blood, I'm not starving. And if I'm not starving, there's no reason that I should go visit my Uncle to discuss my dead parents.

I'd rather Carlisle come here and we could calmly discuss something unrelated to my parent's will. But he wrote that it was out of the question in his most recent letter. And in Uncle Sam's most recent letter, a lot of the words were written in all caps. Words like 'COME,TO,FORKS,NOW!' and 'I'M,GOING,TO,HUNT,YOU,DOWN,AND,BITE,YOUR,HEAD,OFF!' and other similar sounding things.

Out of the seventy-six letters I've gotten in the past eight months, three are from Carlisle. But the letter I got today was written and signed by both of them and I can't refuse any longer. Maybe I won't phase. Maybe where it skips a generation, I'll be okay. But what if my genetics disagree. My father never phased and neither did my brother. What if the phase decides that, 'Oh, her life's going pretty good. I should ruin it. Surprise!'

It would be nice to see everyone again. Well, most everyone. There's a certain Clearwater kid that I'd rather die than see again.

But, I guess there's only one way to find out if I'll phase or not. So, here I am, packing my bag to go to the one place I've avoided my entire life...

My Uncle's house.

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