emotions out loud。 I inherited that from him。 So I was looking straight
ahead as I responded。
〃That's really nice； Dad。 Thanks。 I really appreciate it。〃 No need to add
that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility。 He didn't need to
suffer along with me。 And I never looked a free truck in the mouth — or
engine。
〃Well； now； you're wele；〃 he mumbled； embarrassed by my thanks。
We exchanged a few more ments on the weather； which was wet； and that
was pretty much it for Conversation。 We stared out the windows in silence。
It was beautiful； of course； I couldn't deny that。 Everything was green：
the trees； their trunks covered with moss； their branches hanging with a
canopy of it； the ground covered with ferns。 Even the air filtered down
greenly through the leaves。
It was too green — an alien pla。
Eventually we made it to Charlie's。 He still lived in the small；
twobedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of
their marriage。 Those were the only kind of days their marriage had — the
early ones。 There； parked on the street in front of the house that never
changed； was my new — well； new to me — truck。 It was a faded red color；
with big； rounded fenders and a bulbous cab。 To my intense surprise； I
loved it。 I didn't know if it would run； but I could see myself in it。
Plus； it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged —
the kind you see at the scene of an accident； paint unscratched；
surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed。
〃Wow； Dad； I love it！ Thanks！〃 Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just
that much less dreadful。 I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either
walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the
Chief's cruiser。
〃I'm glad you like it；〃 Charlie said gruffly； embarrassed again。
It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs。 I got the west
bedroom that faced out over the front yard。 The room was familiar； it had
been belonged to me since I was born。 The wooden floor； the light blue
walls； the peaked ceiling； the yellowed lace curtains around the window —
these were all a part of my childhood。 The only changes Charlie had ever
made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew。 The
desk now held a secondhand puter； with the phone line for the modem
stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack。 This was a stipulation
from my mother； so that we could stay in touch easily。 The rocking chair
from my baby days was still in the corner。
There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs； which I would
have to share with Charlie。 I was trying not to dwell too much on that
fact。
One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover。 He left me
alone to unpack and get settled； a feat that would have been altogether
impossible for my mother。 It was nice to be alone； not to have to smile
and look pleased； a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the
sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape。 I wasn't in the mood to go
on a real crying jag。 I would save that for bedtime； when I would have to
think about the ing morning。
Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and
fiftyseven — now fiftyeight — students； there were more than seven
hundred people in my junior class alone back home。 All of the kids here
had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together。
I would be the new girl from the big city； a curiosity； a freak。
Maybe； if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should； I could work this to
my advantage。 But physically； I'd never fit in anywhere。 I should be tan；
sporty； blond — a volleyball player； or a cheerleader； perhaps — all the
things that go with living in the valley of the sun。
Instead； I was ivoryskinned； without even the excuse of blue eyes or red
hair； despite the constant sunshine。 I had always been slender； but soft
somehow； obviously not an athlete； I didn't have the necessary handeye
coordination to play sports without humiliating myself — and harming both
myself and anyone else who stood too close。
When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser； I took my bag
of bathroom necessities and went to the munal bathroom to clean myself
up after the day of travel。 I looked at my face in the mirror as I
brushed through my tangled； damp hair。 Maybe it was the light； but
already I looked sallower； unhealthy。 My skin could be pretty — it was
very clear； almost translucentlooking — but it all depended on color。 I
had no color here。
Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror； I was forced to admit that I
was lying to myself。 It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in。 And
if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people； what
were my chances here？
I didn't relate well to people my age。 Maybe the truth was that I didn't
relate well to people； period。 Even my mother； who I was closer to than
anyone else on the pla； was never in harmony with me； never on exactly
the same page。 Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things
through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs。
Maybe there was a glitch in my brain。 But the cause didn't matter。 All
that mattered was the effect。 And tomorrow would be just the beginning。
I didn't sleep well that night； even after I was done crying。 The
constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade
into the background。 I pulled the faded old quilt over my head； and later
added the pillow； too。 But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight；
when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle。
Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning； and I could
feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me。 You could never see the sky
here； it was like a cage。
Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event。 He wished me good luck at
school。 I thanked him； knowing his hope was wasted。 Good luck tended to
avoid me。 Charlie left first； off to the police station that was his wife
and family。 After he left； I sat at the old square oak table in one of
the three unmatching chairs and examined his small kitchen； with its dark
paneled walls； bright yellow cabis； and white linoleum floor。 Nothing
was changed。 My mother had painted the cabis eighteen years ago in an
attempt to bring some sunshine into the house。 Over the small fireplace
in the adjoining handkerchiefsized family room was a row of pictures。
First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas； then one of
the three of us in the hospital after I was born； taken by a helpful
nurse； followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last
year's。 Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I
could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else； at least while I was
living here。
It was impossible； being in this house； not to realize that Charlie had
never gotten over my mom。 It made me unfortable。
I didn't want to be too early to school； but I couldn't stay in the house
anymore。 I donned my jacket — which had the feel of a biohazard suit —
and headed out into the rain。
It was just drizzling still； not enough to soak me through immediately as
I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the
door； and locked up。 The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was
unnerving。 I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked。 I couldn't
pause and admire my truck again as I wanted； I was in a hurry to get out
of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under
my hood。
Inside the truck； it was nice and dry。 Either Billy or Charlie had
obviously cleaned it up； but the tan upholstered seats still smelled
faintly of tobacco； gasoline； and peppermint。 The engine started quickly；
to my relief； but loudly； roaring to life and then idling at top volume。
Well； a truck this old was bound to have a flaw。 The antique radio
worked； a plus that I hadn't expected。
Finding the school wasn't difficult； though I'd never been there before。
The school was； like most other things； just off the highway。 It was not
obvious that it was a school； only the sign； which declared it to be the
Forks High School； made me stop。 It looked like a collection of matching
houses； built with marooncolored bricks。 There were so many trees and
shrubs I couldn't see its size at first。 Where was the feel of the
institution？ I wondered nostalgically。 Where were the chainlink fences；
the metal detectors？
I parked in front of the first building； which had a small sign over the
door reading front office。 No one else was parked there； so I was sure it
was off limits； but I decided I would get directions inside instead of
circling around in the rain like an idiot。 I stepped unwillingly out of
the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark
hedges。 I took a deep breath before opening the door。
Inside； it was brightly lit； and warmer than I'd hoped。 The office was
small； a little waiting area with padded folding chairs； orangeflecked
mercial carpet； notices and awards cluttering the walls； a big clock
ticking loudly。 Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots； as if there
wasn't enough greenery outside。 The room was cut in half by a long
counter； cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored
flyers taped to its front。 There were three desks behind the counter； one
of which was manned by a large； redhaired woman wearing glasses。 She was
wearing a purple tshirt； which immediately made me feel overdressed。
The redhaired woman looked up。 〃Can I help you？〃
〃I'm Isabella Swan；〃 I informed her； and saw the immediate awareness
light her eyes。 I was expected； a topic of gossip no doubt。 Daughter of
the Chief's flighty exwife； e home at last。
〃Of course；〃 she said。 She dug through a precariously stacked pile of
documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for。 〃I
have your schedule right here； and a map of the school。〃 She brought
several sheets to the counter to show roe。
She went through my