Chapter 1

Moving In

Driving through this place is like driving through a forest, everything is green. The air seems to hang low here and already I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. I barely remember living here; nothing stays the same forever, except for La Push. No, nothing ever changes in La Push. With my window down I can hear the faint sound of the sea rushing onto the shore and birds high up in the trees squawking as my passing car alarms them. This place is silent, motionless, alone.

I see no people, hear no cars, and feel nothing but the chill creeping into my bones. It is supposed to feel like home here, it is where I was born after all. But it doesn't, it feels more like a stranger than a friend.

I sighed as my mum and dad came to a slow stop in the car in front of mine, forcing me too as well. They had chosen a house of the outskirts of the – what I can only call village - a house I haven't even seen in a picture. Moving back here isn't something I had been looking forward to.

When I was five my grandmother (mum's side) grew ill and we had to move to Georgia (where mum came from) so that mum could take care of her. She died a couple of years later, it had taken a lot longer than the doctors had suspected. Dad wanted to move back here immediately, but mum convinced him to stay because I had already started school. In the end, dad liked Savannah as much as mum did and we just stayed. But now, dad's job has moved to Seattle, so here we are, outside our new home.

I saw the car doors open in front of me, mum and dad squeezing out of their fully packed car, just happy to finally be here. We had been driving for days, dad said it would be like a family road trip for us, but it was just horrible.

I stared reluctantly at the house. It is small, three bedrooms one with an en-suit, living room, kitchen diner, small toilet and family bathroom. But compared to the other houses I could see down the road, this looked like a palace fit for a king. My mind wondered back to my old room, the view from my window, the noises of people walking around below it. I missed it already.

Mum startled me by opening my door. "That wasn't too bad was it, Aria?" Natalie asked me.

"No, it was fine mum" I replied shortly, whilst stepping out of my cold green Mini. Cramp.

"So, what do you think?" She asked me, far too happily.

"It's…. great, mum" I answered, trying to sound enthusiastic. Leaving Georgia had been hard enough for her, it is her home and mine, I wasn't about to make it harder.

Right on time, the moving van appeared with all our stuff. Great, a day of heavy lifting. It backed onto our very small two car driveway and the men began hauling our stuff into the correct rooms with mum shouting orders at them. I grabbed a unit with dad and began to help. The sooner this was done the better.

Eventually, all of our stuff was piled into the house and the movers gone. Dad was in the small garage trying to fit the lawn mower into a tiny space. Neither of our cars would fit in there. Mum was in the kitchen, faffing about where to put a knife block. Which just left me – bored already. Dad was letting me paint my room tomorrow so I wasn't unpacking tonight. Instead I collapsed on my bed, exhausted and fell asleep quickly.

I woke up to the sound of rain, and had no idea what time it was. It was bright in my room, so I knew it was morning. I got up, realising I was still in my clothes and walked to the window. It looked over our back garden and into the forest. Not that you could see very far. A movement in the trees caught my eye. My heart leapt into my throat, I thought I had seen an animal. But whatever it was, it was gone now. I wouldn't be going into the forest any time soon that's for sure.

I turned to look around my room. There were three doors, the ones from the hall and two others. I was confused. I opened the first; it was a cupboard, not a wardrobe, just a small dark space. I opened the second. It was the en-suit; the movers must have put my stuff in the wrong room.

I walked downstairs to the smell of waffles. Mum was making breakfast. "Hi" I announced myself dully.

"What's wrong sweetie, you don't like your room?" she asked me, worry spreading across her face.

"I don't think it is my room, it's got a bathroom."

"We thought you'd still want your own bathroom, and the cupboard will be great for all your art supplies and your paintings" she smiled at me reassuringly.

"Are you sure? I mean, you and dad should have the biggest room" She wanted me to feel at home here, I could tell.

"Yes of course we are honey; you spend much more time in your room than we do in ours. Here, I made you waffles, your favourite." She placed the plate in front of me.

I started to eat them, after not having dinner last night I was starving. "Did dad remember my paint?" I asked her happier now with food in my stomach.

"Yes, it's outside your room Aria" Brayden shouted from the living room. Dad seems to hear everything.

"Thanks!" I shouted back, eager to get started.

I found the paints outside my door as dad had promised, along with brushes, and sheets for the carpet and my stuff. I took them in and fumbled around in one of my bags for my toothbrush. When I was done in the bathroom, I came back and got to work.

First moving everything to the centre of the room and covering the floor, and then started with the painting. The walls were an off white colour and with the green reflection from outside, they were extremely … well… green. I decided I wanted some colour in this room, so I painted three of the walls (the ones with doors and windows) a light blue / turquoise colour. Which dad actually ended up doing for me whilst I painted the last wall. This one was the biggest and uninterrupted. I painted huge colourful flowers covering it, all of them different colours, shapes and sizes.

It took all day; I had a headache from the fumes and was in serious need of a shower. So I found my box of bathroom stuff, unpacked it in the untouched white bathroom and eventually had a long hot shower. At least the hot water worked if nothing else, I have a feeling I would need it in this cold, rainy place. I ended up sleeping on the sofa so I didn't ruin my master piece.

Finally, I got to unpack my stuff. Mum was right about the cupboard being perfect for my art stuff, and my wardrobe fit perfectly in the gap between the two doors. Opposite that wall, was the flower wall, which I backed my bed onto in the far corner, which was also underneath my window on the adjacent wall. Opposite the window wall, with my bedroom door, I got dad to hang my TV and mirror and I put my big chest of drawers there too.

I unpacked all my stuff as best as I could, and what I couldn't unpack I left in boxes under my bed. It felt good to finally be done but sad at the same time. It didn't really feel very much like home, even with all my stuff here.

I sat crossed legged on my bed and pulled my laptop onto my lap. Dad had sorted the phone line and internet out earlier. I logged onto Facebook for the first time in over a week to find messages from my friends in Georgia, all wanting to know how I was and what it was like here. I replied to them all, with untrue happiness, telling them about my room and how beautiful it is here. Which isn't a lie, it is beautiful, just a little too green. I even took photographs of my room and the view from my window and uploaded them to sound convincing.

But then I was finished, and felt more alone than I had since we left.