A/N: Yay a new story! It's been ages since I last posted one, and I thought I'd try something new. I'm actually not a twilight fan- I'm more of an HP kinda girl. But after being consistently disappointed by the lack of quality HP fic out there, I turned to Twilight. And I have to say, I was really impressed. I'm not a huge fan of the whole vampire concept, which I understand to be the main premise of twilight, but the AH fics, especially those set in high school, were so good that I had to try my own. I hope you like this, and as always, review please (: I'd love to hear what you guys think.

Disclaimer: All credit goes to Stephenie Meyer.

Song: On My Way Back Home- Band of Horses

My arms clutched my middle as I stared outside at the blur of green. Charlie sat next to me, his moustache curled into a frown and his gaze nervously shifting over to me every few minutes. He undoubtedly spoke to my mother about Paris.

I let out a silent sigh and leaned my head against the window. The scenery was beautiful and ethereal, but it was still the last place I wanted to be.

"So, Bells, you'll be starting school tomorrow. Are you excited?" Charlie said awkwardly.

I swallowed and smiled faintly. "Yeah, a bit." I turned to glance at him. "I'm mostly nervous, though."

His smile became more genuine. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll fit right in."

I nodded weakly. I highly doubt that. "I hope so."

The house was just as I left it, uncomfortably so. Large, but bare. The same pictures on the walls. The same furniture in each room.

Charlie stood in the entry way, a suitcase in each hand. He looked around, then looked at me.

"It's not much, but it's home."

But it wasn't. Forks was never my home. Well, it was, once upon a time, but that was over 11 years ago. Paris was my home. I belonged there. At least until recently.

But I didn't say any of that. It would only hurt Charlie's feelings, and if there's one thing I've learned, is that I needed as many people on my side as possible. I have already lost too much, witnessed enough to make me appreciate the people that have stuck by me.

I smiled sadly. "Yeah. It is."

After buying a new desk, bed spread, and a lamp from Target, we headed to the grocery store. Halfway through our shopping, we were stopped by a voice behind us.

"Hey, Charlie!"

We both turned around, Charlie with a broad smile on his face and me with a neutral expression. Facing us was a happy, dark-skinned man in wheelchair grinning at us toothily. I could see the gold caps he had in his lower molars and the few wrinkles he had were deep. He was being pushed by a tan boy about my age with cropped black hair who was staring at me open-mouthed. He was cute, wearing dark blue jeans and a green T-shirt. I smiled back uncertainly.

"Billy!" Charlie exclaimed. "Hey, there Jacob. You grow every time I see you."

Billy laughed, a deep, hearty chuckle that made me smile more. I could already tell he was very genuine, and I forgot how much I missed honest sincerity.

"I tell him the same thing, and I live with him!" Jacob tore his eyes from me to roll his eyes at his father before they darted back to my face. He had very white teeth.

Billy turned his eyes to me and grinned. "You must be Bella! Charlie hasn't stopped talking about you for the past month or so!"

Charlie's smile turned embarrassed and I couldn't help but grin. I extended my hand towards Billy.

"Yeah, I'm Bella. It's nice to meet you." Billy shook my hands with both of his large hands.

"This here is my son, Jacob," he said, gesturing behind him.

Jacob moved forward and shook my hand. "Hi, Bella," he said confidently.

"Hi, Jacob. Do you go to Forks High, too?"

He grinned and nodded. "Yeah, I do. Are you starting tomorrow?"

Charlie cut in then, laying his hands on my shoulders. "Yes she is. And I expect you," he said, making direct eye contact with Jacob, "to show her around."

To his credit, Jacob didn't look the slightest bit intimidated. He just grinned some more and said, "Of course, sir. I wouldn't expect any less from the Chief of Police."

Charlie and Billy chatted a little longer, making plans to go fishing the upcoming weekend while Jacob and I made small talk about school. I was relieved when they started to leave. Jacob offered to drive me to school, but I declined, saying I already told Charlie I would let him do it. He looked a bit put out but cheered up when I told him I would see him tomorrow.

When we got home, we put the food away before attempting to lug the desk upstairs. It took 3 breaks, 20 minutes, and whole lot of laughter before we got it up to my room.

I wiped my forehead. "Thanks, Dad."

He leaned over, and in an uncharacteristic display of affection, kissed me on the head. My eyes pricked.

"You're welcome, Bells. It's good to have you home." And with a smile, he left me alone to get situated.

My room was my favorite part of the house. It was average sized but the window seat made it larger. The walls, painted a pale lavender from my youth, were adorned with paintings my mother had done before we left. They were beautiful and made me miss her terribly. I never used to miss my mother before this year.

The desk was a pristine white that I knew wouldn't take long to tarnish. My bed was small and had a navy comforter with green sheets, arranged to perfection. I sat down on it heavily and put my head in my hands.

So far, the day has been fine. I've been fine. I have had my sad moments, here and there, but that was honestly a major improvement from my previous state. At least I wasn't hyperventilating anymore.

Even if I was okay, I still couldn't stop thinking about that night. About Camille.

I sighed and stood up. Dwelling over Camille was not the best idea right now. It would only serve to make me upset and then I would start crying and then Charlie would be worried. No. It was best to think of something else.

I moved to my dresser and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Dark, wavy hair that fell past my elbows. Eyebrows knitted together over dark eyes. My lips were slightly chapped and my nose was a little red, but other than that I looked normal. Well, sort of. My face was devoid of the usual drastic makeup I wore in Paris. Dark lipstick and coal black eyeliner was traded instead for an application of mascara and a coating of lip balm. My clothes from Paris didn't change, however. They were simple, yet elegant. Designer, but not obviously so.

I turned around and began to unpack my suitcases. It was going to be a long night.

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