Pulling my suitcase out of the baggage collection area, I searched for my name written on one of the dozens of whiteboards and pieces of card being held by families and holiday companies looking for their tourists. I spotted my name on a square of paper and almost fell over my feet when I saw who owned the pair of hands holding it. I pinched myself on the arm and nearly yelped aloud when I felt the pain. Then I remembered; in the exchange of letters I'd had with the Cullen family, they'd told me they would be easily spotted. Of course this ghost – like family of snow skinned angels stood out, but who expects to be picked up from the airport by people who stood out like that? I took a deep breath and dragged my suitcase after me as I walked over in a slight daze.

"Erm . . . hi. You're the Cullen family, right?" I asked, cringing when I realised just how British I sounded surrounded by all those Americans. I never thought about it like that at home, but now I sounded extremely wierd. The father (if he could possibly be old enough, although he'd told me all his kids were adopted) smiled and answered in a slightly British – American accent,

"Yes, we are. Then you must be Ivy Muse?" I nodded faintly while breathing deeply to stop fainting when i saw him smile. I was only fifteen, so I wasn't really into guys too much older, but if I was ten years older . . . the tall, thin boy with bronze hair who stood at his left frowned in concentration, then seemed to be supressing a laugh, and I felt a strange presence in my head. The brunnette woman (who I worked out must be Esme) standing on Carlisle's right smiled too and piped up in a clear, beautiful voice,

"Well, then. Shall we get going? You must be quite hungry after your flight, though excuse us if we don't eat with you – we had our lunch before we set off." I nodded and gulped, slapping myself inside for acting like such a muppet. I was sure the Cullens were wondering where the 'A's on the copy of my school report they'd been sent had come from. Edward frowned hard then stifled a laugh again as we set off, and I felt the same feeling in my head. You know when you can sense someone standing behind you? It was like that, but kind of tingly. I shook my head like a wet dog to try and get rid of the sensation.

                 Four hours later, I lay in the warm, comfortable bed Esme had provided for me in their spare room, which to my surprise, was probably larger than the entire top floor of my house put together. I was absolutely knackered, but I couldn't quite get to sleep. Something was niggling in the back of my mind – the Cullen family, to be exact. They seemed . . . out of place. They were too smooth and graceful. My friend Lily from school, who was nearly a qualified ballet dancer, would have broken down and cried if she saw how they moved. They were too quiet as well – not when they talked to me, but when they talked to eachother. In the car, Alice had whispered something to Jasper which I couldn't hear, but I was sure I'd seen her lips move for a split second. Speaking of cars, Emmett was a very good driver, because all I had to show for the times he turned round in his seat to talk to Carlisle and Rosalie was stiff knuckles because I'd clenched my fingers so hard. Finally, my brain began to pull me toward unconsciousness, and I succumbed, falling into a deep sleep. But my last waking thought was that there was something very wrong with the Cullens . . .