"That's all" my dad exhales heavily, putting the last of my many boxes down on my new bedrooms floor." I sigh and flop lamely onto my bed, my dad smiles and lies down next to me.
"I miss her," I mutter looking up at the ceiling.
"Me to Charlotte, me to," Dad whispers. I sit up and pick up the photo of my mum, dad and me. Tears come to my eyes. I still remember the day she died. Dad had just picked me up from school, last year, mum went out on a rainy day to get some groceries, dad kept telling her not to, but she did anyway. I can remember waving at her as she went out the door. Two hours later we got the call, she had lost control going around a bend, and had been pronounced dead at the scene, dead before she even knew what was going on the police had said to me. Something broke inside my dad that day, maybe his heart. He began to spend a lot of time in the shower, crying, but he would never admit that to me. I was all he had left; his only part of her, rules became more strict, bedtime, earlier. He became extremely over protective. I had my own ways of coping, I began to become more independent, did things on my own, I liked it that way. My dad had trouble, he tried to talk to me but I didn't want to talk to him, I cried on my own.
"C'mon we need to be at the barbeque at seven," Dad says patting my back. I roll my eyes soon after mum died dad decided to move us to La Push, Forks his home town. I didn't care, I wanted to get away from the memories I had in Seattle. Dad said he needed the support from the friends who lived here, I understood. We had finally arrived this morning after seven months of planning and now Dads childhood friend, some guy in a wheel chair called Billy Black, was holding a welcome party at his house for us. I look up as my dad begins to close the door, he peeps his head back in and smiles, "There will be boys at this party," he mocks in an attempt to get me up. I grab my pillow and pull it over my head, groaning as I flop down. I hear a sigh as the door creaks almost closed.
I quickly go to my door and peep out; dad is sitting at the top of our staircase, his head in his hands. I quietly close the door and sit on the floor leaning against the wall. I would rather stay home than go and meet a bunch of people I barely know, but that wasn't an option, anywhere dad went I had to go, another 'rule'. I get up and go to my dresser; I pull out some black jeans, a thick black and ivory patterned knit jumper, and some flat heeled leather boots. Dad had stressed how cold it would be here in Forks, and now I knew why, it was beyond freezing here, and it was autumn. I pull of my grey sweater and track pants and get dressed. I go and sit in front of my dressing table. I run a brush through my long, wavy chestnut colored hair, I loved my hair it was silky and soft and not frizzy, no matter how long I brushed it never got frizzy. I apply some of my favourite cetaphil moisturizer to my creamy, pale unblemished face. I run my chapstick over my lush pink lips. I bat my thick, long, black eyelashes and look into my deep brown, almost black eyes. My skin I had picked up from my mother, a pale girl from Seattle, and my eyes I had gotten from my dad. I sit in front of my mirror and just stare at myself.
"Charlotte, c'mon!" My dad calls opening the front door, I scramble, picking up my iPhone in the process. I run down the stairs and outside, closing the front door and making sure it's locked securely, another rule. Dad already has the car running when I hop in, he waits for me to buckle my belt, checks it is done properly and pulls out of the drive. I look out the window, I feel uncomfortable driving through La Push in our sleek black Grand Cherokee Jeep, when all the cars around here are just cheap and rusty and older than me. After about five minutes of driving we pull into the drive way of a small red house, behind the house I can hear loud voices; I guess that's where the party would be held.
"C'mon sweetie," dad says patting my hand,
I groan, "Dad!" he chuckles and gets out of the car, I open the door and slide out. I follow dad behind the house and I was right, that's where the party was at. Before I can even look around I find myself being hugged by someone, I pull away and look up but the lady has moved to hugging my dad. I look at them, my dad is grinning at me, and he puts his arm around my shoulder,
"Char, this is Billy, Charlie and Sue, you, met them at the funeral," he says muttering the last word. I nod at the strangers and smile, I can't remember them but I try to be polite.
"Yeah, I remember, nice to see you…again," I acknowledge them. My dad smiles and begins to talk to Billy, I look around I see some old ladies sitting at a long line of fold away tables, some children are running around, my eyes follow the kids. That's when I notice them, a large group of boys and one girl. I tilt my head and examine them; they are sitting near the porch in a large circle. I notice most of them are only wearing shorts, a few are wearing t-shirts. I feel my eyebrows furrowing, how the hell they could not be cold. I look at the group; all the boys are pretty good looking, tall, extremely large muscles, obviously natives, their russet skin gives that away. They all have the same sort of cropped hand cut, hair, even the girl. She is actually quite pretty, but the hair, the board shorts, bare feet and thin singlet look awful on her. Suddenly my eyes are drawn to a large oval tattoo on her upper arm; it's green and ugly if you ask me. I notice that all the boys have the same tattoo, were they in some sort of gang. I am still looking at them when one of them catches me staring, but instead of looking away, he stares back at me with his large chocolate eyes. I try, but I can't pull my eyes away from his. He is tall and almost as muscular as the others; he has a youthful face and a huge, happy grin plastered on it. His skin is the same beautiful, silky russet skin all the natives had and his hair is glossy black, worn short like the other boys. He looks like he could be my age, fifteen. Suddenly the girl sitting next to him snaps her fingers in front of his face. He blinks and breaks away from my gaze. I see him whisper something, but he is way too far away for me to hear him. In less than an instant everyone is arguing, quietly though so no one can hear them. I feel a nudge in my side and I look at my dad.
"You okay Char," He asks anxiously, using my nickname. I blink and nod. He smiles everyone else is ignoring the argument erupting behind us, "Why don't you go mingle?" I look at him, mingle? With who. I look back at the group, "Um, not those people Char, they seem busy." My dad whispers in my ear. I sigh, and begin walking towards the younger children, the oldest one looks about twelve, the minute they see me coming they run away. I try the women but they all look at me oddly, so I move away, I see a tree not far from the house and decide to go sit under it.
I sit at the tree, leaning against it, I am about to get my iPhone out when I hear a twig snap behind me. I turn and see another gang boy emerging cautiously form the forest. He looked seventeen maybe eighteen, and he too had cropped black hair. His skin was russet in color; and his eyes were dark. He looks around sheepishly, obviously not seeing me hiding in the shadows of the tree. He begins to walk quickly to the other boys, but stops dead short when I move my foot. He looks at me, giving me a quick once over, like he is assessing me or something. I wave shyly at him; maybe he would talk to me, beats sitting here like a loner.
But before I can say anything someone calls him, "Jake, get your ass over here and listen to this!" The boy, I'm assuming is Jake, turns on his heel and runs off to join the group. I sigh, some welcome party, I think as I pull my phone out and start a game of temple run.
After about fifteen minutes a woman's voice shouts, "Dinners up!" The rush for seats is unbelievable, like not getting one means you can't eat. By the time I have my food, the only seat left is between a six year old girl who is picking her nose and Jake.
"Seriously," I mutter as I slam my plate down and take my seat. I look at Jake; sitting next to him is the mean looking girl, and the boy who was staring at me. I sigh quietly and begin to push my mashed potatoes around.
The table is noisy, everyone talking over each other, so I almost miss the, "Hi, I'm Jacob," coming from beside me. I turn my head slowly and see him looking down at me. I smile a little a return to mashing my mashed potatoes. "What's your name?" Jacob asks, I sigh and turn to look at him,
"Charlotte, nice to meet you," I say in a bored tone. He looks uncomfortable, but I continue to stare, waiting for my next question, which I'm sure would come.
"How old are you," He pushes, wanting more information. I freeze, I had been asked this question by so many guys, and whenever I told them they asked me out, I think of something to say to get him off my tail, I say the first thing that comes to my mind,
"I'm fifteen and I'm a lesbian."