My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a cloudless blue. I was still wearing the bandages from the surgery under a loose-fitting shirt. My carry-on item was a parka.

In the Olympic Peninsula of the northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks lives under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains there more often than in any other state in America. It was from this dark gloomy town that my mother escaped with me when I was a few months old. It was in this town I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was thirteen. That was the year I flipped my family's life upside down. These past four years have been spent with me making the slow transition from female to male. My dad, Charlie, would visit infrequently during the summers. He was very accepting of my situation though, I'm not sure if he fully understood it.

It was much more difficult for my mother. While she helped me through the process and consented to my recent top surgery, it was hard on her. I don't think she was ready to lose her daughter. This was one of the reasons that I decided to move to Forks.

I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. But, I needed a new start. Too many people knew me from before.

"Bell- I mean Jack," my mom said to me – the last of a thousand times – before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

I knew she meant well but, I could also hear it in her voice that she needed a break from all… this. I felt bad for leaving her to fend for herself; she was so erratic and hare-brained. Of course, she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the fridge, gas in her car and someone to call when she got lost.

"I want to go." I said. I could feel her relief. I can't say I wasn't a little hurt by that but, I knew this journey had been hard on her. She needed me to go too. Maybe not forever, but just for now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon." She started, "You can co… I'll come back as soon as you need me."

I could tell she meant it; that no matter how much I put her through, she'd really always come back for me. I smiled.

"I love you Mom." I said, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

She hugged me tightly (forcing an awkward squawk out of me) and then I got on the plane and she was gone.

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.

Charlie had been really nice about me moving in with him. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming over with a degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car.

But it was awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose. On top of that, I had changed significantly since the last time he saw me. I had waited until just before my surgery to crop my hair short, so this was the first time he saw me closely passing as male.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. I was expecting both these things. Charlie is the Police Chief LeFleche to the people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refuse to be driven around town in a car with the red and blue lights on. I didn't want to look like a criminal.

Charlie didn't recognize me at first. He stood there, looking around until I was right in front of him. He startled and then gave me an awkward, one-armed hug.

"Good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling. I grimaced.

"Hey Charlie," I said, "I go by Jack now." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face but, I wanted to establish that he wasn't allowed to call me by the wrong name either.

"Right, right." He said, his cheeks reddening. "Sorry."

"It's ok, Dad." I replied.

I only had a few bags, so it all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped in.

"What kind of car?" I asked.

"It's a truck, a Chevy."

"What?" I said, "That's awesome!" – Then it hit me. 'Really cheap' – "Wait, how much was it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Native American reserve on the coast. Why was Charlie bringing that up?

"No."

"He used to go fishing with us in the summer," Charlie prompted. It must have been too far back, I still couldn't remember him.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "So he can't drive it anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck, cheap."

"That was nice of him." I said, "What year is it?"

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine – it's really only a few years old, really."

Well, that was not reassuring.

"Does it work?" I figured I knew enough about cars to fix it if anything went wrong but, if anything went too wrong I didn't think I could afford a mechanic.

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

"Charlie." I said, not masking the annoyance in my voice.

"Sorry. I mean Jack."

We sat in uncomfortable silence for a bit until I decided to pick the conversation back up.

"So, are we going to pick the truck up?" I asked.

"Well, I kind of already bought it for you as a homecoming gift."

Wow. Already I was burdening him.

"Dad, you didn't need to do that. I was going to buy it myself."

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable expressing his emotions out loud. I guess we had that in common. So, I was looking straight ahead when I responded.

"That's really nice. Thank you, Dad. I really appreciate it."

"Well, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks. This, for some reason, suddenly made me embarrassed. We spent the rest of the ride staring out the windows in silence.

Eventually, we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only days of their marriage – the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that was never changed, was my new – well new to me – truck. It was a faded red color, with big, round fenders and a bulbous cab. I loved it. It screamed me. I could see myself in it.

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" I was actually a little excited to show it off at school tomorrow. Maybe, it wouldn't be as bad as I was fearing it would be.

"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 belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floors, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the horrible lace curtains around the window that would definitely need to be burned – these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes the Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a second-hand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was stipulation from my mother so that we could stay in touch easily. I guess cell coverage wavered a lot. 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. That might get awkward.

Charlie didn't hover; he left me alone to unpack and get settled. I smiled when I realized that this would have been impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone with my thoughts and not have to explain them. Right now, I was thinking about school.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty seven – now three hundred and fifty eight – students. All of the kids had grown up together – their grandparents had been toddlers together.

I would be the new guy from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.

After I finished putting all my clothes in the old pine dresser, I went to the bathroom to clean myself up and change my bandages. I looked at my chest in the mirror as I took off the bandages. It had been over six weeks since the surgery, so the bandages had been reduced to small squares of gauze taped over my nips. The scarring and swelling had gone down quite a bit and I was glad to have upper body strength again.

Facing myself in the mirror, I wondered if I should tell anyone about me. If that would be appropriate or just make interacting with me awkward. I wondered if I looked… man enough? I had always looked boyish; my fashion choices helped with that when I was younger. Now I looked in the mirror and I saw a young man looking back at me, and that made me happy. But, would the other students see me? The real me?

I'd always been a little shy. And through my transition, I'd lost a lot of friends. Some of them because they didn't like what I was doing and some of them because their parents didn't like what I was doing. But I had a lot of support. I didn't lose all my friends. Although the title "friends" is kind of generous. All the people at school were more acquaintances than friends. I suppose that's why it was so easy for us to part.

But none of that mattered now. Tomorrow would just be the beginning.