The plane touched down on wet asphalt, jarring and just about the truest omen of what was to come as I could ask for. I waited as we taxied in, my foot tapping as I turned on my phone. The thing was so old, it didn't have an airplane mode. I would have upgraded it if I ever had a reason to, but it wasn't exactly as though I got many calls on it and I wasn't up for paying for a data plan. There were only four numbers in my contacts list that I used with a degree of regularity; a local emergency care near my house... my former home, in Phoenix, my dad Ray's number, Felicia's number, and Carrie's number, my mother.

My mind looped back over that last goodbye before I got on the plane.

"Are you sure?" Dad asked, his concern grating.

"Yes, Dad," I said, sure that I sounded annoyed. "I'm sure."

"You can come home any time you want," he went on. "Felicia and I would love to have you back."

"I know, Dad," I said, my voice going softer. "I know. If I get tired of the cold, I'll be calling you five times a day."

"Call me anyway," he said. "It won't be the same without you."

"Thanks, Dad," I said. "I will."

I wouldn't call. Or at least I wouldn't call to come home. I was here, and as much as I hated it, I wasn't going anywhere.

I grabbed my backpack, my only bag, stuffed with a few choice books and two weeks worth of clothes, just enough to get by between laundry loads. I could always get more second-hand clothes. I began to deplane, managing to clip my shoulder on the way out the door. Glad no one I knew saw that. The "airport" is so meager, I almost get lost trying to figure out which of the small buildings I am supposed to walk to. I finally walked out front into the tiny excuse for a parking lot, and sure enough, Carrie has pulled up in the cruiser.

"Hop in," she said, popping open the door without getting out. "Is that everything?"

"Yeah," I said, pushing my bag between my knees and settling in for the long ride. I was glad Carrie didn't make much over me like other moms might. I wouldn't have handled it well at the moment.

"So," she finally asked after we had gotten out of town and hit the highway, "did you get your license?"

"Yes," I pulled the word out of myself. Back in Phoenix, there wasn't a needed. I could get anywhere I needed on foot or with public transportation. That wasn't an option anymore. Forks was too small for that, and walking wasn't really an option anymore either. I looked out at the constant drizzle, trying to convince myself once again that I would get used to it.

"Well," Carrie said, "that's good. Unfortunately, you can't drive the cruiser."

I snorted a chuckle, "I wouldn't even if that was an option."

"Good," she said shortly. "Fortunately, I found a truck for you."

I thought about my meager funds, stashed in one of my socks in my bag. I had taken it out of my college savings account, the one I emptied all my summer job money into. Ray never let me work during the school year. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough for a used car, or maybe a used truck.

"How much?" I asked, a bit wary.

"How much what?" she asked back.

"How much does it cost?" I asked again.

"It didn't cost that much," she said, and I look over.

"Didn't?" I asked, catching on.

"Yeah," she said slowly. "I bought for you already."

I didn't say anything for a moment, then said, "Oh."

"Is that alright?" she asked and I think about it.

"It's okay," I finally said. "You didn't have to, but I guess I don't really mind. But if I change my mind, I'm paying you back."

"Okay," she said. "It belonged to an old family friend. Do you remember the Blacks?"

I shook my head.

"They kept it in great shape," she said. "I doubt you will need to do any maintenance on it or anything. It was just my way of saying... welcome back."

We spent the rest of the drive in relative silence, watching the road or the rain and the road. Finally, we made it to the outskirts of my sometime hometown of Forks, Washington.

It was the same as ever. I didn't think any of the businesses had changed, other than possibly the owners, and most were probably still owned by the same families. I hadn't lived there for nearly ten years, not since I finally figured out that I had a choice. My parents had let me move in with Dad, who I had missed, who I would miss desperately. Now, I was back, and I'd just have to make the best of it.

I spotted the truck as soon as we rounded the corner to my mother's house. It took a moment to sink in that it was THE truck. Even from half a block away, I could tell that it was going to be great. It was fairly rife with character, probably older than my mother herself, the brilliant sort of old vehicle that spoke of drive-ins and picnics and the country. I would have loved having this truck back in Phoenix, despite the fact that I doubted it had air conditioning, and I began to think that my time here might not be a completely unmitigated disaster.

Mom took me inside. The house was much like the town, unchanged. The addition of my school photos was the only alteration I could pick out as we head upstairs to one of the only two rooms in the place. My room, as it had been before, was laid out the same as it had been. Bed placement, the orientation of the desk, dresser on the same wall, everything. They had all been replaced with larger counterparts since I was last here, and everything was neat and clean, if undusted.

"If you need anything else," said mom from the door, "or want something different, just come talk to me. We can always talk. If you want."

"Okay," I said.

She nodded, "Okay."

She turned and walked downstairs. I closed the door.

I sighed heavily, falling back on the bed and throwing my arm over my eyes. I didn't want to wallow the rest of the night, but I needed a release and just let the misery was over me a few minutes. But that's all I gave it. I went to the bathroom and washed my face, then I unpacked, the rain and wind a constant companion. I doubted I would ever feel alone here ever again.

When I finally went downstairs for dinner, I found Carrie in the kitchen, preparing a meal for us. I explained that I was used to cooking for myself, and after some back and forth, and actually tasting that her food wasn't too bad, we agreed to no agreement on meals. Whoever felt like cooking would cook and we would just play it by ear. Finally, after a dinner and a shower, I went to bed early, doing my damnedest just to get the day over with, knowing the one to follow would be worse.

When I awoke the next morning after a restless night, it was still raining, and in my half-asleep state, and with the only half of my brain that was awake thinking about the wet day ahead of me, I misjudged the length of the landing and stepped into open air and nearly fell down the stairs before I managed to catch myself, knocking my knuckles hard against the railing. Finally, I munched some fruit and headed out to my truck, taking solace in that at least.

I managed to hurry out and hopped in without any more bodily peril and drove across town, which took all of fifteen seconds. The school, like most things in town, was just off the highway. I parked, realizing that I was in fact early. I decided to take the extra time to get my schedule.

The school itself was utterly minuscule, considering I was used to a school with about as many students as people who live in half the town. With a student body this small, there was nowhere for me to hide, no throngs for me to blend with, no masses for me to disappear into. I couldn't deny the strangeness of myself, bookish without being nerdy, enjoying music without owning a single album, fashionably dressed in unfashionable second-hand clothes, jobless, unpopular, uninteresting. Now, I was friendless, new, and exposed. This was a fresh level of hell from which I might never recover.

Finding the office wasn't hard, though even if I had to check every building, I don't think it would have taken me that long. I was about to give my name to the gentleman behind the desk when he said, "Oh, you much be Benjamin Hawkins."

And so it begins.

"Ben," I said, doing my best to smile and take the edge off my correction.

"Glad to have you back, son," he said. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it here."

I managed not to outright frown, but I'm not sure I got enough sarcasm out of my voice when I said, "I'm sure I will."

I could be wrong, but as soon as I confirmed my identity with the office, it was as though everyone suddenly knew who I was. Staring silence surrounded me and hushed whispers followed me as I began working my way through the day. English was to be expected, but when I looked down the syllabus, it was even more so. Not a single book or piece we would be reading was something I hadn't read already. That would make things easier.

As I left English, a girl came up to me and said, "Hi."

"Hi," I said, and after a moment of her not saying anything, I decided that I might as well observe the social niceties. Even if I looked at it practically, I might be burning bridges that I didn't need to be.

"I'm new," I offered and she jumped on it.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm Erica."

I got the impression that she was talking not because she expected to get anything out of it, but because she really had nothing to lose. She seemed that flavor of nerd that is more socially awkward and less into pop culture, the sort that liked school because she was good at it and didn't know herself well enough to know she was good at anything else.

"Do you know where your next class is?" she began. "I could show you..."

I smiled tapping my schedule in my pocket, "No, thank you, though. There isn't exactly a whole lot of school around here."

She laughed and it sounded a little forced, but I didn't have anything to compare it to. I felt sort of bad for her, but given how uncomfortable I was at the moment, I wasn't in any position to be willing to endure addition discomfort be allowing her to feel more welcoming. I noted this, just in case I decided I wanted to make it up to her later.

I managed to get through Government with only a minimum of mutters and stares, but I made it a point to sit in the back and no one seemed willing to opening gawk where I could see them. It wasn't until Trig that I had to endure that special hell that is standing before the class and telling them about myself. I quietly plotted to incite a riot throughout the rest of the class, that wasn't my favorite as it was, until the bell rings.

"Hey," said a guy walking up to me. "You're that new kid, right?"

"Yeah," I said back. "That's me. New Kid."

"I'm Jesse," he said back, running his hand through his hair. "I know what's up. I can totally show you the ropes, if you're game."

The guy seemed like he could be a bit of a tool, but he had some social clout and offered, so I nodded, "Why not?"

"Cool," he said. "It's Benjamin, right?"

"Ben," I corrected, and could tell that I was going to get oh so tired of that. I weighed the merits of a name tag versus the additional attention one would inspire.

"Who do you have next?"

I consulted my schedule, "Spanish with Goff."

He laughed, "Only one Spanish teacher, dude. Welcome to Forks. Come on; I'm heading there too."

He tried to subtly interrogate me all the way to our next class, but I could tell he was trying to base my worth on my preference of movies and music. It seemed to bug him that I usually watched movies once unless I had a reason not to, and none of our tastes in music really overlapped, but we only covered general topics before we get to class. It passed without too much trouble, and I was dreading navigating the torrential waters of the cafeteria when Jesse piped up, "You seem cool. Come eat lunch with us."

So, I did.