When Destiny Calls

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Sixteen-year-old Vivian Jonathas moves to Forks, Washington, to live with her father. As a homecoming gift, her father gives her the entire series of Twilight to read. She refuses to believe that the series is anything more than fiction, but when things prove her otherwise, and she starts to discover things about the people around her and even about she herself, she has to answer the call of destiny – and make hard decisions.

Chapter 1 (v.1)

Submitted: December 22, 2009

Reads: 841

Comments: 3

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Submitted: December 22, 2009

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Before you read on, I know almost everyone currently loves and is obsessed with the whole Twilight thing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like Stephanie Meyer’s writing style, and I found the story enjoyable. But one thing I don’t like is the fact that Bella seems to be the damsel-in-distress all the time, constantly needing protection and never fights for herself until the end wherein she is changed into a vampire.

As I’ve said in my bio, I’ve never been one to come up with fresh and innovative ideas. The best I can do is to (drastically) modify good story ideas into something I can call my own. This is my first (real) attempt at writing a novel so please feedback! As long as someone enjoyed it, I will post the second chapter.

I chose the picture because that scene in the truck was what first inspired me to write this. I imagined a Bella, feisty and tough, but vulnerable all the same, sharing a conversation with a Jacob (I’m sorry to say that I’ve always imagined Tyler’s face as something like Jacob’s). I did NOT choose it because I like Bella. I seriously think she needs to toughen up a little, especially the film-version of her.

I’ve always been one to be comfortable with being alone, by myself. It’s not like I don’t have any friends (what kind of loser do you think I am?? I had a good friend named Haley but we weren’t very close), it’s just I don’t mind being by myself. There’s a kind of serenity and peace being alone offers.
I was raised single-handedly in New York by my mother. After the divorce, my mother insisted that I take her last name. That’s why instead of being called Vivian Winterman, I’m Vivian Jonathas. I know everyone calls New York the city that never sleeps, but I was never really happy there. Sure, the education was great, and I learnt that you should never buy a hotdog from a street vendor with greasy hair, but when I was in New York, I was unhappy. I guess it was because I never really found my calling. Some people are good artists, others find their niche in sports, but I could never really find something that I could call my own and say, “Hey! I’m good at this.”
So I was always that no-talent loser in school. But I got through pretty well, because one thing I was okay at, was fighting. I pretty much understood how to fight, when to fight, and why to fight. Plus, since I never really had anything else to focus on, I was good at my studies and was considered a top student, so whenever someone accused me of breaking their nose (the sweet sound of tearing cartilage), my teachers never really took it seriously. Other than that, I was basically bored and unhappy in New York.
Plus, above that, I was trying to escape a bad first love.
When I was fourteen, I fell in love with a senior at my school. He called me “babe” and said I was so beautiful. He claimed that we were soul mates and that we belonged together; it was written in the stars. I bought it. He was just so charming and charismatic, I couldn’t help it. I believed in a fantasy. He fought for me with another guy, whom I later realised was part of the ploy, and got detention because of it. Our relationship lasted for about four months before he played a cruel practical joke on me. He told me that he had bought an outfit for me, and wanted me to wear it in school. He told me to go change in the toilet and bring it out for him to see. It was a maid’s outfit and he stuck, “Maid 4 Hire, Make me scream” on the back of it. I ended up being a big sick joke.
I didn’t try to exact revenge on him, because I felt he wasn’t worth my time. But of course when my teacher asked for my opinion on him, I couldn’t help but add some details that may or may not have resulted in his suspension.
I never forgave that guy. Whenever someone said “babe” (which was fairly often) or talked about love, I thought of him. I was tormented with thoughts of him.
So when someone gave me the chance to go to Washington, I wasn’t exactly unwilling to go.
My parents were married because of me, so in a way you could say they were pushed together against their will. Later they realized marriage together was a mistake, and divorced when I was only six. At that age the usual reaction would be, “Why Mommy? Why does Daddy have to go?” but I understood and respected their reasons and tried to cope as best as I could.
And it didn’t turn out too bad. My mother gave up her dream of being a Broadway actress and earned a decent living as an employee, later manager of a small electronic store, while simultaneously raising me up. She started going out with Sam two years after the divorce and married him three years later. Sam was a great stepfather. He knew when to interfere and when to keep the heck out of my business, and we got along really well. The only thing was, Sam was the manager of a band, and had to travel a lot. They had talked about her going off with him to try to make it big in the theatre business, but I was keeping her from him by being there, so I offered to go and stay with my dad until things settled down a bit for the band and her. Of course I was reluctant to leave her, but I figured she’s given up so much for me, that I kinda owed her a favour. Besides, I was sixteen. My Mom had taught me well, and I could take care of myself.
So that’s how I ended up moving to Washington, Forks.
I heard that the town was like, currently a tourist trap because it was the setting for a vampire romance book, but I didn’t really care. Who wanted to kiss a cold-blooded dead guy? I guess you could call it romantic that a vampire was in love with a mortal, but other than that, I paid little interest in the hype around Forks.
Little did I know that the story was not entirely fictional.
*****
“Mom! I’m going to be fine.” I enunciated each word very carefully. Even though we were supposed to be having a very painful and touching goodbye, I found it slightly amusing that the tables had suddenly turned and I was the one comforting my Mom before she went off for her big adventure.
“Oh, I know you will be, but I don’t know how I’ll cope without those Saturday night movie marathons and Sunday sundaes,” my mom tearfully said. She reached out and hugged me for what seemed like the millionth time. “Are you SURE you’re okay about going to stay with your father?”
“Yes, Mom.” I pretended to roll my eyes but I hugged her back tightly all the same.
“Go! Go live your dream.” I turned to Sam and gave him a mock frown and said, “Now, son, you take care of my mother, see?”
Sam smiled good-naturedly and saluted me, “Yes, ma’am.” Before ruffling my hair (though I told him a million times not to do that) and said, “Take care of yourself, kiddo.”
That nickname Sam had for me almost made me burst into tears right there and then, but I managed to keep it together and I said, breathing in his Sam smell for the last time, “I will, I promise.”
Mom smiled at me through her tears and we shared one last hug before she allowed me to go into the departure hall.
When I turned around and saw both of them, Sam’s arm around my mother’s tear-sodden shoulder, waving at me from a distance, a single tear couldn’t help but fall from my eye as I knew it would be a long time before we saw one another again.
*****
When I got off the plane, I struggled not to trip over my bags while simultaneously trying to keep panic from surging up from my throat as I tried to remember how my Dad looked like. I haven’t seen him since I visited him in Forks when I was twelve. Four years made a lot of difference.
I wished that miraculously a sign would appear and say, “Vivian Jonathas! Your Dad is here.” but of course, there wasn’t any sign and I was standing in a sea of people trying to look out for a person whose face I couldn’t even remember. Wonderful.
“Vivian!”
My head whipped from side to side, as I attempted to locate the owner of the voice. My hair slammed into my face. I knew I should have tied it up in a ponytail.
“Vivian!”
Okay, this was annoying. Where did that voice come from? Plus, why did people feel compelled to slam into me as they moved past?
“Vivian,” a guy my age jogged up to me, breathing heavily as he tried to garner enough strength to continue speaking. “Hi.”
“Uh,” I looked around in confusion, still not recognizing him. “Hi.”
He looked at my face and said, “Don’t you remember me?”
“Uh,” I tried to make my faux pas not so severe by laughing a bit, “sorry, I don’t.”
“It’s me. David.” He looked to my face, hoping that by stating his first name it could somehow jog my memory. “I’d come over and we’d made mud pies once together…..?”
“Oh!” I dropped the bags in both hands in shock. “David, it’s you!”
On the rare chances that I DID come to visit, David and his father came over once and our fathers talked while we fooled around together. He used to have this really bad case of buckteeth. I didn’t mind David because he was a nerd, and nerds rarely hit on you unless he thinks he’s Casanova or something.
“Gotten rid of the braces, I see!” I said approvingly.
He laughed and blushed slightly. “Yup, I’m a proud owner of good, straight teeth.” Then he sobered a little and said, “Let me get those for you.” He started to bend down to pick up the bags I had forgotten about.
Instinctively I reached down and snatched one of the bags. He looked at me in surprise.
“I’m no longer the helpless little girl who couldn’t get her kite from the branches.” I winked. “I learned how to climb a tree.”
As we walked towards his truck, David explained why Keith couldn’t fetch me from the airport. The local police were up in their necks on a case, and he was taking down statements. David told me that Keith was excited about my arrival and that I was going to love Forks.
Yeah, okay. I hoped no one called me babe.
*****
When we got to the house, I wasn’t exactly in a chipper mood. On the way I had seen most of the town, and it looked exactly like I’d pictured: sleepy and quiet. I could almost imagine the fun and exciting things people did around here.
“So,” David said as he got my bags from the truck, “This is the house.”
“It looks….” I searched for a word to make him know that I was okay with it, “Good.”
“Yeah,” he said, laughing, “it looks great.” He started up the path. “C’mon.”
Once we were in the house, David showed me my room. He gave me an overly-detailed commentary of what I could see. It was a decent room, with a bed, a study table, one window and a reasonably-sized closet. He set down the bags in a corner of the room and cleared his throat.
“The window is broken and it can’t shut properly. You should turn up the heater at night because it can get pretty cold.” He looked at me for some sort of reply.
“Okay.” Wow, I was turning out to be a brilliant conversationalist.
He jabbed a thumb down the hall. “My number’s on the fridge. Call if you need anything before Keith gets back.”
“Thanks.” I threw him a grateful smile. “It’s been great seeing you again.”
“You, too.” And much to my surprise, he put his arms around me and we shared an awkward hug. After releasing me from his grasp, silence hung in the air for a few painful seconds before he said, “So…….yeah. See you at school.” and got out of my room.
I watched as he jogged down the hall and descended down the stairs before turning back to my room and taking a deep breath. Time to unpack.
*****
It was almost six when Keith came back. I heard the keys jingling downstairs and put down the book I was reading. I debated whether I should go downstairs to greet him, or wait in my room. In the end, I decided to go downstairs just to say hi. After all, he was my Dad.
He was unpacking a few things in the kitchen when I came down. I cleared my throat, hoping this would get his attention. When that didn’t happen, I squeezed my eyes shut for a few seconds before opening them and saying, “Hey, Dad.”
He turned around and looked at me as if he’d just remembered he had a daughter. “Vivian. I was just about to go up to your room.”
“Oh.” I felt like an idiot.
“Sorry I didn’t manage to fetch you. They kept me at the station longer than I expected.”
“Um, it’s okay.”
We stared at each other for a few seconds, unsure how to fill the sudden rift in conversation.
“I, uh, like my room.” I offered helpfully.
“Good. I took down the posters. I thought you might like to hang up some stuff of your own.”
“Uh, sure.” It seemed that “uh” and “um” were becoming the main words in my vocabulary.
He turned and shuffled around in one of the plastic bags. “I bought some snacks. You can eat some if you get hungry sometimes. I usually eat dinner at the diner, but I could try to cook if you don’t want to eat there –”
“Uh, no, I don’t mind eating at the diner.” I blushed slightly, remembering the many meals I had to endure eating Keith’s versions of home-cooked food.
He stopped messing around in the bags and turned to look at me, as though trying to read my mind and what I was thinking. He focused his attention on another plastic bag. He held out four thick books.
“I got you these.” He passed them over to me and I nearly fell over with the weight of the things. I put down three books and glanced at the cover of the remaining one in my hand. I nearly died.
My father had gotten me the entire series of Twilight.
“Wow.” I lied, not daring to look up, “Thanks Dad!”
Even though I wasn’t looking at his face, I sensed a smile in his tone. “I knew you’d like it. The story happens in Forks, you know. Figured it might help you get introduced to the town, and all.”
“This is great!” I lied some more, pretending to be deeply interested in the all-black cover.
Another rift in conversation followed.
“Well then,” Dad said after a few moments, “you can bring them up to your room and read them. Uh……” he paused. “I usually eat at seven, so…..”
“Sounds great.” I risked a look at him. “I’ll get ready by then.” I hesitated before adding the next part. “Thanks for letting me stay, Dad.”
He smiled at me and straightened up to walk over to me. He reached over and hugged me (what is it with me and hugs today??).
“I’m glad you’re staying, Viv.”
I breathed in his familiar smell and felt comforted hearing my old nickname. Regardless of how long we had been away from each other, he was my Dad, the person who accompanied me on my first day of school and was willing to take me in when I asked about it out of the blue. And I was his daughter. Nothing would ever change that.
*****
I had about two days of holiday before school started. I intended to make full use of it, since there was no telling how school in Forks would be. Maybe it isn’t such a far cry from school in Manhattan.
I was slowly figuring out how to read Keith. When he watched sports, it meant he was tired and should not be disturbed. When he watched a drama, it meant he was REALLY tired and should NEVER be disturbed. If he watched documentaries and nature programs, he was relaxed and approachable. Then when we go to the diner for dinner (which happened like, oh, I don’t know, EVERY NIGHT), I watched what he ate. On good days he ate fish and chips, with a little salad; on bad days he ordered a medium-rare steak. On weekends he always had something new.
Keith told me I was allowed to explore the town by myself if I wanted to, but I was not allowed to go into the forests. So the moment I got a chance, I armed myself with my Ipod, my handphone, a torch, a water bottle and got out of the house, clad in jeans, a sweater over a tank top, and a pair of worn Pumas. When David said it was cold, he wasn’t joking.
My plan was to keep walking. It was a small town, I figured I wouldn’t get lost or if I did, someone would know the way back. Besides, it wasn’t as if I was eager to read the books.
Two hours passed (I had taken a VERY slow walk). I had already walked past countless houses (many of which the owners stopped me on my way and knew who I was, when I came, and a number of embarrassing details about my childhood) when I realized that I’d forgotten the way back. Panic shot through me. I knew I should have gotten a map or something. I was never one to be good with directions.
I tried to look casual as I slowly turned my head from side to side, hoping that some miracle would happen and there would be a sign that said, “Keith Winterman’s house this way!”
Just as I was about to give up and ask one of the people I had encountered earlier, a truck pulled over next to the sidewalk I was on. It was a rather beat-up truck, but not to the stage where people would cringe in embarrassment when they get seen inside it; more of the kind where you would admire the truck owner for having stumbled upon a reasonably presentable truck.
“Vivian!” A guy my age got out of the truck. He was about 6'2", and had a lanky build, but the most prominent feature of him was his long, black hair. I suddenly remembered what I read on the Internet when I was doing research on Forks.
The Quileute tribe. You know, the one Jacob Black comes from (okay, even though I’m not such a big fan of Twilight, I know the basics. Plus, Taylor Lautner is really cute)?
And, of course, this guy was from that tribe. It was totally obvious, given his hair, plus his skin. It was naturally tan.
“Vivian. Hey.” He smiled at me. “I’m Tyler. Tyler Sheridan?”
“Oh, I remember.” Tyler was a childhood friend. We used to play together at his house in La Push. Our fathers were good friends.
He smiled at me. “Your Dad sent me out to look for you. He’s worried. You didn’t answer his calls.”
My heart skipped. I rummaged around in my bag until I found my handphone. It turned out I had not even switched it on. What a genius.
He laughed. “I figured.” He jerked his head over to the truck. “C’mon. I better drive you home before your Dad gets a heart attack.”
As we drove home, Tyler and I talked about a lot of things. Mainly what happened after I stopped coming back to Forks for the summer, and school. He made me laugh a lot, and before I knew it, we were home.
He pulled up the truck just in front of my house. “Thanks for the ride, Tyler. I really appreciate it.” I smiled at him.
“No problem, Viv. Here’s my number.” He slid my phone out of my bag and keyed it in. “Call if you need anything.”
“Well, see you at school.” I said as he handed me my phone and I started to get out of the truck.
“Uh, Vivian. I don’t go to Forks High.” He gave me a grin and fingered his hair.
“Oh, right.” I blushed. Why am I so stupid? His hair was there the whole time and STILL I couldn’t get it in my head he was Native-American. “Sorry. Well, that’s a shame. It would have been nice to know at least one person wouldn’t be staring at you like you’re some kind of freak.”
He laughed. “You, Viv? A freak? I don’t think so. Just wait and see,” he leaned in closer. “It’ll be better than you’d expected.”
“Oh, sure.” I pretended to roll my eyes. “I’ll bet.”
“Okay then, you’re on. Ten bucks.”
“Wha– Really? Are you serious?” I looked at him incredulously.
“Sure I am. What? Having second thoughts?” He raised his eyebrows but kept grinning.
“No, not at all.” I took umbrage at this. “Deal.” We shook on it solemnly, but when I turned to get out of the truck, I could sense Tyler smirking.
Before I closed the door, I added, “See you around, Tyler.”
As I started up the path, a new wave of nausea hit me. I had been consigning the thought of enrolling in a new and foreign school the whole time I had been there, and Keith had politely and tactfully followed suit. But with it being only a day away, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to face it.


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