Hey all, glad my summary is working! So, this is mostly an introductory chapter. It gets better, I promise.

DISCLAIMER: Of course I own Twilight. Not.

Cathy-

So how're things going in the land down under? Better than here, that's for sure. Last time you wrote you asked for more details. At the time I didn't have any to give you. But now there have been a few…occurrences. Yes, that's a good word.

Let's start at the beginning. If you're not sitting, please do so. And carefully place any liquids you may be holding out of reach before you continue. This comes with a warning label.

I moved in with my dad. In Forks. Will be staying for at least a year, possibly more.

Yes, I know. Take deep breaths and pretend it's happening to someone else. That's what I did. Do.

The flight wasn't so bad. I didn't touch the airplane generic pretzels or crackers. Okay, maybe my resolve wavered a little when the woman next to me started unwrapping a ham and lettuce sandwich. But one glance at them was enough to put me off right away. The pretzels I mean. I wonder who makes those things anyway. Probably the same company that makes school lunches. Dieters.

Anyway, darling daddy was waiting for me at the airport. Sad thing is, he didn't even recognize me until I tapped him on the shoulder. Come to think of it, it took awhile even then for everything to sink in.

Me: "Hey dad."

Him: "Are you lost honey?" Looks me up and down, probably rethinking choosing 'honey'.

Me: "Aren't you Charlie Swan?" Pretends to be unsure. Is, in fact, irritated.

Him: "Bella?! You look…so grown up!"

Now, Cath, picture my wardrobe for a minute. The black, the skulls, the fishnet stockings, the leather. I tried my hardest, really I did. Plain black clothes, the loosest ones I've got. Converse sneakers, dragged from somewhere in the depths of my closet ( a gift from Gran, I think). Only a teensy weensy bit of eyeliner.

Well, what could I say to that but thanks? So I did. Still looking rather unsettled, he led me to the parking lot and--Lord have mercy--his police cruiser. The only times I've ever been in a cop car have been for wrongdoings. Like the time you and I got drunk that Halloween and…well, you remember. Bottom line is, my relationship with the fuzz has been sketchy to say the least.

Naturally, the ride home (-shudders at the word-) was a tad uncomfortable. As in, silence as loud as a foghorn uncomfortable.

I thought he would pull right in to the driveway, but there was already another car blocking the space. Irrationally, my first thought was: Oh god, he's invited uncle George.

Another glance at the car, well, truck really, reassured me. Not uncle George's. Too big. But then again, I'd forgotten Uncle George moved to Malaysia three years ago. Only one postcard since, something about becoming one with his surroundings and freeing himself from 'earthly desires'. He managed to free himself from this family easily enough. I suppose that's a start.

So then I was left with another problem: If the car didn't belong to Uncle George, then whose was it? I asked.

"Yours." He glanced over nervously then, "I thought you would need some way to get around. The public transportation system here isn't too good."

Ha. Try nonexistent. But still, I was touched. I'm not used to people doing me favors. You remember what my mom was like. What with all the excitement, emotional breakdowns and lapses in memory. She was lucky to find Phil.

Now I'm getting off track. So I thanked him again, and went into the house to unpack. Wow. Two genuine expressions of gratitude in as many hours. Put this down in the record book.

Mercifully, he didn't stick around to help me set up my room. Just glancing around the rest of the house gave me the idea he might be a bit scandalized by my, erm, decorating style. And clothing choices.

The room was just as I had remembered, only it seemed smaller. Possibly because I am now bigger. It would do, only lucky I remembered to bring decorations. Otherwise I might very well go crazy staring at the water lily prints that made up the original decoration. So that pretty much brings this little (hah) letter to a close. I'll send you another only if you reply to this one, so get typing! I know you're just dying for the next installment of 'Bella's Big Move".

Your crazy friend,

Bella.

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Cathy--

Wow, that was quick. You really do care. Nice to know that someone does. Anyway, today was the first day of school. Yippee. I feel so young again. Like eighth grade all over again with the cliques. Probably because the school's so darn small. Under three fifty. Back home we had four times as many, and I still had a hard time without you around.

Rewinding: morning, I wake up, use the bathroom, eat breakfast, stare at my closet for about twenty minutes wondering what the hell to wear, and finally dragging myself out to the car. My car. Sounds good, no?

The drive to school was shorter than I'd expected, so I ended up being one of the first ones there. I never understood why people would ever want to get to school early; the day's long enough as it is. Looking around, I spied a small grove of trees over by the corner of the parking lot. Perfect.

As I was walking over through the parking lot a silver blur flashed past to skid into a spot in the corner. I jumped back, tripping over a crack in the pavement and scuffing my new--well, relatively so--boots. Muttering to myself (I won't tell you what) I shot Silver Car Driver the finger and hauled myself upright. No doors opened, and no passengers emerged so I let the matter slide without any verbal abuse and kept moving toward the bit of forest. They were probably just quaking in fear of the freakish zombie girl.

Sliding down with my back to a big oak, I pulled a pack of cigarettes from my boot and fished around in my pockets for a lighter. I was stupid to start in the first place, I know. Don't scowl at the screen please, I'm imagining the disapproval right now and it's scaring me. I promise it's not a regular thing anymore; only when I'm really distraught.

I hadn't had more than two seconds alone with the nicotine before I was interrupted by a voice.

"Smoking isn't allowed on school grounds. And besides, it really is terrible for your health."

"Shove off." I tipped my head up to stare at the pretty petite woman standing over me. She couldn't have been even five feet tall, but those looks were intimidating enough without the added bonus of height. Seriously, she was like, Photo-Shopped magazine model beautiful.

Her eyes seemed to darken, but my observation powers were still a bit shaky from the transference from bright sun to cloud cover. So it could have been just me. I was trying to decide when she demanded, "Is that polite?"

"If you're so worried about health, you shouldn't be standing there breathing in the secondhand smoke," I pointed out. "Supposedly it's even worse than if you lit up yourself."

Instead of driving her off in a huff like I had intended, the angel just smiled and sat beside me. "It's your health I was worried about. But it seems like you can take care of yourself."

"Damn straight."

Her smile just widened as if at some inside joke I must have missed. "So what's your name?"

"Bella Swan." I glared. Wasn't I being rude enough? Should I have told her she was ugly, or flipped her off or something?

"Alice Cullen." She reached out a dainty white hand, and I wondered briefly if she expected me to kiss it. The thought made me laugh, a true laugh for the first time since I had come to the Rain Gardens. So I reached over and curled her fingers into a fist, then smacked it with my own.

"Charmed."

She grinned and got up to leave, brushing dead leaves off the backs of her legs. "Welcome to Forks, Bella Swan."

I watched her walk away, making sure she had entered the building before crushing out my cigarette and following. Maybe Forks wouldn't turn out as boring as I thought.

Twenty minutes into English my opinion had reversed itself again. Forks would definitely be just as boring as I had thought. Worse than junior high. No one here has any originality; they all follow Seventeen like it's the Gospel truth.

I was desperate for lunch already, and fourth period hadn't even begun. Juniors eat during sixth, with the seniors. Yay us. I wish someone would give me a dollar for every weird look I got today. I'd be richer than Bill Gates in no time.

I saw the pretty anti-smoker again at lunch, sitting at a half empty table with four or five other absurdly beautiful beings. Three boys, and one other girl. A leggy blond with skin to die for. Heck, she was whiter than me, and I've been fighting against tans my whole life. People take the whole Goth look for granted.

After a moment, I began to look around at the others she sat with. The one I "knew" was holding hands with a tall blond boy, who could have been related to the blond girl. A humongous, as in 'worthy of professional wrestling title' big, guy sat across from them. The last member of the group turned his head my way exactly as my eyes moved on to him.

My heart stopped. He was beautiful.

Flushing, I glanced away again. Someone was talking to me, but their words didn't make sense. My mind was still on the pale boy across the room.

"Bella!" That was my name, I realized. So I turned and looked for the voice. A little Hispanic girl from my Spanish class was waving wildly, "Come sit with us!"

So I did.

Lunch passed in a blur. I kept sneaking glances every so often at the beautiful group, until the frizzy haired girl caught me. I couldn't remember what her name was.

"Bella," she giggled, "Your staring is so obvious."

I ignored that. "Who are they?"

She grinned, and leaned in close to whisper, "They're the Cullens. They live outside of town, and keep mostly to themselves, so no one knows anything about them."

"They're all related?" Hah, and my mom thought she had it bad with just one kid.

"Adopted. Mr. Cullen is a doctor at the hospital. Mrs. Cullen doesn't work." She must have noticed how I was still eying them.

"But don't get your hopes up, they're really snobby when it comes to relationships. Especially Edward--he's the brown haired one. I've heard he has three girlfriends in Seattle."

Oh. So she was that kind. "You know, green really isn't your color."

She stared down at her red sweater, then back up at me. The bell rang, luckily for her. I might have done something stupid right about then just to prove her wrong.

Everyone at my table stood up, in unison like frickin' robots, and headed outside to scatter and run on back to their next class, like good little children.

I felt so frustrated. Do you know how boring small schools are? I guess the teachers have more opportunity to brainwash students if there's a "better" teacher to student ratio. Well, I was done for the day. Seriously, I'd sat through five classes already. It's better to ease into school, rather than jump head on.

Whispers and glances followed me as I made my way across the parking lot to my car. I ignored them in favor of the highway. I was downtown in ten minutes. There wasn't much to be seen besides a grocery store, bowling alley, and a movie theater. A few family owned clothing stores popped up every now and then as well. A three story white marble bank was the tallest building present.

When I reached the end of the road, I parked my truck and got out to start walking instead.

My incredible luck followed. It began to drizzle. Sensibly, I had only worn a sweatshirt and jeans. Fabulous. My eyeliner was going to start running. I jogged about half a block back towards town and ducked into the nearest store. Which, typically, happened to be an outdoor sports shop.

Of course, I bumped smack into someone who had been just preparing to leave. Rather intimidated, I stared up at the six full feet of muscle I had collided with. He grinned good naturedly.

"Sorry, but it'll take a harder hit than that to knock me down." His eyes tilted slightly upward at the corners when he smiled. It was infectious.

I smiled back. "Maybe I should go back out and try it again. You think ten yards should do it?"

No I was NOT flirting! I don't know why you would even think such a thing. Come on, seriously, you know me. I don't have boyfriends. I don't want one. Well, except for that guy we met in Tuscan. And the lifeguard. And the--I'll stop now. I'm losing this argument.

"Why don't you just stay in here," he suggested, grabbing my hand and pulling me further in. I tripped over an invisible wire, and stumbled, throwing my arms out for balance.

He caught me before I fell, and laughed good naturedly. "Be careful where you step. It's terribly dangerous when the floor's all even like that."

Huffing with mock anger, I strode past him and sat on one of the low benches made for trying on hiking boots. They were lined up neatly by size, and looked horribly chunky. I don't know how anyone stands to walk in those things.

The boy sat down beside me, staring. "So what's your name?"

I glanced at him sideways. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He blushed a bit and grinned, showing a mouthful of even, white teeth. "I'm Jacob Black. From the reservation near the beach."

I studied him with renewed interest for a moment. So that explained the dark skin, hair, and eyes.

"I'm Bella."

We sat in silence for a moment after that, and then he turned to me again. "Hey, wanna have some fun?"

Fun sounded good. So I said yes.

I followed him out of the sports store and into the pouring rain. Then there was a mad dash for the convenience store down the block, and we entered sopping wet and laughing. My annoyance at the rain was easily quenched by the way his hair looked when soaked and falling into his eyes.

We bought a couple cans of spray-paint, some sparklers, and a few bottles of tequila.

"For my old man," he told the clerk sweetly when she asked for identification. "He's in a wheelchair, and rain rusts the machinery. She nodded, clearly having heard the argument before, and waved us on.

I spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach with him, talking more freely than I had in months. We played pictionary on trees, and bits of dead wood. Then, when the sun had gone down, lit up the sparklers and set them in the sand.

They glowed in the dark, forming a winding line in the sand reminiscent of an ancient pathway. I could follow the lights all the way into the forest, just south of town.

"The road to heaven," I told Jacob, pointing. He looked, then shook his head.

"Uh-uh. The highway to hell."

"What?" I was rather startled at such a bitter phrase coming from this carefree person. He turned his head away.

"Bella, what do you know about vampires?"

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Whaddya think? Should I continue, or not? Reviews are persuasive, and ideas are welcome.

-Sharedsun