I boarded the plane to Forks with a duffel bag full of clothing and a box of photographs and newspaper clippings. It wasn't much, but I figured it was enough to go on. I'd looked them through over and over again, and every time I did, something just didn't sit right with me.

My sister was dead.

But I knew that was a lie. The circumstances under which her death was written about, a fire at her husband's house, were constantly changing, as though the people involved in purveying the information were not fully prepared with their story. Bella Swan. It'd happened the day after my high school graduation; I'd awoke to find my mother inconsolable in the kitchen, a phone in her hand.

So she'd shown me the box; an old shoe box filled with things of Bella's. Pictures, newspaper clippings, and a marriage announcement, cut out of a newspaper. I hadn't seen her since I was about six, after she got married. Mom told me she just stopped calling, and she took this as a sign that she was ready to move on.

Bella would have been thirty. I am seventeen, our sister Elizabeth fourteen. So ten days after my emancipation from the prison I call high school, I boarded a plane for Forks, Washington.

I knew there was more than what was being said to me.

Little did I know that the little town of Forks would contain more than I could have ever imagined. Love, lies, and adventure awaited me in the little town of 3,000 inhabitants.

*

The plane touched down in Seattle at eight AM. From there, I was on a bus, and then a taxi, into Forks, where I would stay in a boarding house until I had my answers. My mother told me all about Bella's life, about how she had spent the last few years of her life living with her father in this town. She told me she had met a boy named Edward, gotten engaged, and married, all within the span of a few years. My mother didn't approve, and so she cut off contact with her, save for a few updates a year on Charlie's part. I couldn't ask her why she didn't approve, through the tears.

The taxi rounded the corner and I saw the place where I would be staying. A large, 18th century house with a veranda and dormer windows. The paint was peeling from years of assault from the weather, and the storm drains were rusted. Despite the poor look on the outside, a light in the kitchen window suddenly told me that this was a good place.

Feeling apprehensive and slightly jet lagged, I paid the cabbie and got my few possessions out of the trunk. As I did, I realized suddenly that it was raining. Mom had warned me that it did this a lot out here. I was fine with it, I hated the hot sun that came along with life in Florida.

The door was open when I got onto the porch, and a small, thin woman stood there, eying me carefully. "Olivia Dwyer?" she asked. I nodded, suddenly realizing how thirsty I was.

The woman's face lit up. "Welcome, honey! I wasn't expecting you until later, to be honest." She pushed open the screen door to allow me in, and closed the heavier door after me once I was in the foyer. "Leave you bags here, follow me into the kitchen, I just need you to sign some papers." I did as she told me and set my suitcase and the box carefully on the hardwood floor.

The kitchen was brightly lit and modernly furnished, something that I wouldn't have expected. The late afternoon rain beat on the window, creating a comforting lull that made me sleepier than ever.

"You can call me Cindy," she said, setting a glass of water on the table in front of me. "Your rent is two hundred dollars a month—but I don't want you worrying about it, when I talked to your mother she said she'd wire the money. She sure cares a lot about you. What are in town for, anyway?"

"Um," I began, aware that I was going to sound stupid. "My sister lived here before she died. I wanted to learn about her."

"What was your sister's name?"

"Bella Swan."

"Did she marry the Cullen boy?"

"Yeah, I think that was his name. They died in that fire a few months back."

"I remember that," she opened a drawer and pulled out some papers. "Awful, awful day." She handed me a pen. "Could you just sign where it asks?" She smiled at me. "Thanks."

Cindy left the room, and I heard her ascend the stairs. I looked at the paper in front of me, sipping the water and allowing it to clear my head. Mom had taken care of everything, so I just needed to sign. Picking up the pen and skimming over the fine print, I signed my name.

Olivia Dwyer.

I finished up my water just as I heard Cindy coming back down the stairs. She was smiling, despite the conversation we'd had several minutes earlier.

"I just finished getting your room ready, come on up," she said, motioning for me to follow her. I left my papers and empty glass on the table and followed her up the stairs to the third floor. From the outside, the house looked modestly sized, but the inside was massive. I figured that the house went further back onto the property than I was able to see. It was easily the size of a mansion. Unfortunately I didn't have the place to myself, and was resigned to the small room that Cindy showed me.

The door handle was slightly rusty and creaked when she turned it. She revealed to me a room the colour of the ocean, a deep blue with white trimmings. The curtains, peacock blue with gold embroidery, swayed gently in the current created by the furnace duct beneath it. I noticed that Cindy had taken the liberty of bringing up my bag and setting it on my bed. The box was there as well, and I secretly prayed she hadn't opened it. I went over and sat down.

"Do you like it?" Cindy asked.

"It's nice. It'll totally work."

"Great! Well I'll just give you a little while to settle in. Your mother paid extra for you to get your own bathroom. It's just through that door there. The other door is your closet. Dinner is in an hour." She left.

For a short time, I felt very lonely. I felt stupid and foolish. What was I doing? On the other side of the country, away from my parents for the first time, chasing after a dead woman? I shook my head and started to put my clothes away. Whatever the reason I was here, I was here, and I needed to complete what I needed to do.

As promised, dinner was in an hour. I didn't feel like eating with the various other people in the boarding home, so I took my plate up to my room and ate it while I watched the branches of the maple tree outside my window bend in the wind. I figured in the morning I'd take a walk around town and see what they had to offer here. Mom couldn't tell me much, she hadn't lived here long. She gave me Bella's father's address—his name was Charlie Swan. She warned me he'd be grieving and wouldn't likely want to talk too much, but he knew about me.

After I finished I brushed my hair and watched as several brown strands drifted to the floor. This always happened whenever I traveled. My hair would fall out, causing my usual heat products to do more damage than good. What use would my hair straightener be in this climate anyway? The humidity in the air would bounce my hair back to its usual waves in minutes. Time to leave high school vanity behind. Sighing as I unpacked, I pushed the straightener that had become my friend to the back of my closet. It would be resurrected upon my return to Florida.

I took the clear plastic bag that held my makeup and bathing supplies into the washroom that was adjoined to my room. I was thankful for my mom paying the extra to get one. It was pretty nice, it was modernly furnished like the kitchen, not like you would expect for a century home. It had a stall shower like the one I was used to in Jacksonville; and the sink was set into a granite countertop.

Other than that, it was pretty small. It was cozy, I liked it. I was feeling pretty homesick by this point, and I figured some sleep would help. I changed into sweatpants and a tank top, locked my door, and crawled into my bed. It was cold.