When mom said we were moving to have a better life, I didn't think she meant we'd be moving here.
At first sight, La Push was beautiful. Kind of... nostalgic, in a way. Especially for a person like me, who clutches his notebook to his chest and adjusts his glasses every five seconds. But... once I really look, what am I looking at? Another beach, another adventure, and another place I know nothing about.
Another way to run away from everything, everyone.
Mom and I... we don't have a permanent home. We move around so much, most of the boxes from the moving cycle aren't even opened from the time we get there to the time we move again. I'm sitting in the car, and moms already out. She's heading toward the house, which is in the middle of the forest, the middle of nowhere. Through the open window, I hear the faint crashing of waves, and sigh. What are we doing here? I know not what mom wants to do, or what her plan is, but I doubt it's a good one. Mom's never been... all together. She's ill now, and I think it's from moving around so much. I've gotten sick plenty of times. But her illness is severe. It's... incurable. Everyday her smile becomes thinner, and her hair loses a little bit of color. She's only forty seven, but her body isn't strong and secure like mine. It's my duty to help her. That's why I stay with her. That's the only reason.
She told me, with a kind smile, we'd be staying in La Push for a bit. No moving. Just... resting. No pressure. No school work. Nothing.
I don't believe her.
There's nothing I'd like more than to go back to LA, where my friends are. LA was the place I've stayed longest. Normally, mom and I would stay in one place for about a month, and then we'd suddenly book it, dropping all contacts and anything else that tied us to anywhere. We stayed in LA for three whole months, and I found time to make friends. They weren't the best group, but that's only what outsiders would say. They weren't all too bad. People judge before they know- they do it to me all the time. Trust me.
I'm nothing special. I'm too skinny, my eyes are too green, and my hair's messy. I have glasses, but they're always crooked on my face. I wanted contacts, but not everyone gets what they want. My hips are narrow, and my neck is long. I'm short, too. My skin is dark from LA sun, and I miss the feel of the waves on my body.
While it might not sound like it, I'm what most would call a "surfer dude". Everyday, me and my group of bad friends would go down to the beach and just surf. Hours... minutes... sometimes we were out for a whole day. It didn't matter. The times we shared and the feelings felt were the best I'd ever encountered.
Now it was all gone. Just like that, I was dragged from sunny LA to cloudy old Forks. It wasn't fair! Life wasn't fair. I sigh again and step out of the car.
Mom, hair curly and glowing like strands of sunshine, flounces over to me and kisses my cheek. "Honey, you go walk around, meet the townsfolk. Okay? I've got the boxes." Mother smiles a smile I can't say no to, and I nod, nod, turning and silently walking along the dirt road we came.
All around me, it's the same. Trees, dirt, clouds. Nothing changes. I break out of the forest and into the open. I come out at the base of a cliff, seeing a few girls giggling and splashing around by the water. A few feet away, guys wink at them flirtatiously. I sigh. Same old same old. Everyone, everywhere, was the same.
Instead of introducing myself to anyone, I make a beeline for the grocery store. I avoid looking at anyone and walk through the doors, glancing around with a mildly bored expression. I spot the Monster Energy Drinks and snatch one out at random. As I walk to the register to pay for it, someone bumps into me, sending me to the ground.
"Ow..." I mutter, and glare up at the person over me. He's surprisingly handsome, and he looks just as surprised as I was to be knocked over. Our eyes lock, and I find myself not being able to blink.
The boy above me... doesn't seem real. His hair is soft-looking, a mix of black and brown, and I want to reach out and feel it, just once. His eyes are wide and dark, and his sun-kissed skin seems copper. His stocky build is kneeling over me, a worried and slightly flustered look on his face. I blink and feel my cheeks heat up. He stands, pulling me up. He's got three friends watching in amusement behind him.
"Sorry! Sorry," The boy says, over and over, staring at me in something of amazement and awe and confusion. Why is he confused? I'm the one who should be confused, I think grumpily.
"It's fine, man," I wave him off, turning away and picking up my Monster. I glance at his friends, who still look pleasantly occupied. I turn away and shake my head a fraction.
Slim fingers wrap around my arm, and I'm gently tugged backward. "Uh- sorry." The boy says again, then rubs the back of his head. "What's your name? I haven't seen you around here before. Did you just move here?"
I stare at him, frowning. What could he want? "... I'm Joseph. Joseph DeLuce. And yeah, I just moved here. Anyway... Bye." I turned and jerked my arm out of the boy's hand, and hear him murmur my name. When I turn back to look at him, he's smiling, as if the feel of my name on his lips either amuses him or makes him happy. I frown. Odd boy. Are all La Push's population this weird? I hope not- I hope from the bottom of my heart not.
I pay the cashier and exit the store, feeling the boy's eyes follow me the whole way. I begin to walk home, shivering. It got colder than I'd expected. I wrap my arms around myself, sipping the energy drink tentatively. Once I'm home, I walk through the door and slip my shoes off. "Mom." I call into the silent house. "I'm home."
Mom, ever the kind one, appeared out of the kitchen, smiling happily. "Did you make any friends? You explored, probably." She takes my coat and hangs it in the coat closet.
When you walk in the house, the hallway goes on forever, with many doors on each side. Our home isn't a mansion, or really anything special, but it feels like walking down a hallway in a hotel. Doors on one side, doors on the other, and a door at the end of the hall. That was it.
I followed mom into the kitchen. "Yeah." Was all I said. I wouldn't tell her about the grocery store, and I wouldn't tell her I didn't even try. This was my mother's and my relationship. Safe. Not a very mother-son kind of thing, but simply professional. Like co-workers.
She walks to the stove, where a large pot rests. As she stirs, I sit at the table. "What are you making?" I ask quietly, and she turns to me with a giggle.
"It's a surprise, Seph." She winks, and I sigh. I've never liked surprises.
Our kitchen isn't anything fancy, either. It's just a kitchen. There's an island in the middle, and all on the perimeter of the room is a counter. There's a stove a few feet right of the door, and a fridge a few feet away from that. Cabinets align the walls of the kitchen, filled with ingredients and recipes. Mother loves cooking, almost more than anything. She'd have been a cook if I hadn't come into the world.
Mother places a plate in front of me, and I find it's chile pasta. I love, love, love mother's chile pasta. Simply noodles with chile and cheddar cheese. Nothing more than that, but it's taste is better than noodles plain and chile plain.
As I eat, night falls, and I watch out the window as the view of the pine trees goes dim, then its completely dark. From the looks of it, it'll be too hard to see my own hand if I hold it in front of me out there. I stand from my place at the table, walking out of the kitchen. "I'm going for a walk."
Mother smiles. "Alright, Seph. Be careful." That's all. She doesn't protest at all. I know she doesn't mean to be so... so... recklessly trusting. It's simply part of her personality and her past that make her that way. But sometimes, I wish she'd be a normal mother and nag be about how that's dangerous and risky. Only sometimes.
I grab a flashlight from a drawer in the shed behind the house after minutes of stumbling and flick it on, shining it around. The trees seem ominous against the glow, and the shadows are highlighted. I step over fallen logs and small streams, sometimes getting my foot stuck or stubbed on something I failed to catch. Once I make it far enough into the woods, I sit down, holding myself tightly. It's cold, but I don't want to go back home yet.
I wonder if there's a stream or something I can find. I'd absolutely love that. Everywhere I've ever lived, I've always had "my place". I've always called it "Il mio Luogo" which means "my place" in Italian. I've always wanted to visit Italy someday.
In New York, it'd been atop our apartment building, in a small garden they'd conveniently placed on the roof. In the far back, there was a small pond with frogs and minnows and even gold fish. I loved sitting there and watching them, sometimes feeding them. It was where I could go to think.
In LA it'd been a small rock reef, and I'd sit on the farthest, biggest rock. I could think clearly there, and I loved laying and sunbathing under the sun in the middle of the day. It made my nerves calm.
I didn't know where I could go, here. Maybe on a cliff? I didn't see any cliffs on the way up. I know there are some here, because mother told me about cliff-divers on the way up. We're just too far away from the cliff area to see any. We're near a beach, but there's always people there. From first glance, I knew that immediately. Frat boys, or even just drunkards. That's the image I get when I think of that beach.
Thus, I sit against a tree and sigh. Where to go, where to go?
After a while, I give up and head home. The darkness had increased, and my flashlight could only keep me so calm. Once I get to the house, I notice the lights are already off. Mother had gone to bed. I sigh and trudge through the door, cold and alone. Standing there in the doorway, I feel small. Smaller than ever.