Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight! I'm playing with her story, no infringement is intended! This story is Rated M for Mature. Please, don't make me responsible for getting lemon juice in your innocent eyes. There's adult subject matter, angsty stuff, death, and some dark stuff guys. A/U, some canon couples.
This story isn't a Bella/ Jacob story, but it does start out as one. There are chapter titles if you want to skip ahead. This story has been edited from what I originally wrote. Character names and descriptions had been different in the original. Carry on, and leave some reviews if you can!
Chapter One :: Forks
Isabella
I sat in silence with my social worker on the three and a half hour journey from Seattle to the small town of Forks. Renee was a sweet woman. She had been the closest thing to someone who cared about me since my mother's accident. No, that wasn't fair. I knew that she truly did care about me; I bet she would have offered to take me in herself if she didn't already have three young boys.
I watched the trees rush by in a blur of green, the heavy rain making everything blend together. There were hardly any other cars on the road as we passed the "Welcome to Forks, Washington" sign, and it seemed so quiet. It was a nice change from the city, but I still didn't want to be here.
"Do I have to do this?" I asked her quietly. I didn't look at her, afraid that she might see my fear if she looked into my eyes. I felt her watching me for a moment before she replied.
"I'm sorry Isabella, but Mr. Swan is a really good guy, and I think this will be good for you." I felt her soft hand on my arm, and I closed my eyes. "Please, trust me." After a moment, I nodded slightly. I refused to let myself cry anymore; I had wasted too much of my life on that already. In nine more months, I would be eighteen. I would be able to access my trust fund, and be free to live on my own. Even if this place didn't work out either, it would probably be the last foster home they tried to put me in. The process usually took quite a while.
The town seemed very small, nothing like Seattle. It felt like the majority of it was off of one long main road, and all of the establishments had very uninspired names; 'Diner,' 'Grocery Store,' 'Hospital.' The High School was tiny compared to my last, and I hoped that wouldn't make it too hard to just blend in. After taking a couple side streets, she pulled down a short dead end and parked in front of a small, two-story house right next to the forest. I immediately stiffened, the police cruiser in the driveway doing nothing to make me feel more comfortable. I shot a look at Renee, raising an eyebrow. We were in the middle nowhere.
"I know," she said sympathetically. "But I've met with him three times already. He gives me a really good vibe, and I think you'll like him." She turned off the engine, and went to unlock the trunk. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and got out of the car. Grabbing the second of my two large suitcases, I followed Renee up the walk way, and watched as she rang the doorbell.
Charlie Swan looked to be in his late forties. He had dark brown hair that was peppered with grey, and warm, chocolate-brown eyes eerily similar to my own. When he smiled, the sides of his eyes crinkled slightly. He didn't have that slightly-off look that made me so uncomfortable from the first moment I had met George. I still did not know this man in the slightest though. I gripped my grey suitcase tightly.
"Hey Mr. Swan," Renee said warmly.
"Please, come in before you get soaked." He seemed slightly nervous; there was the faintest shake in his friendly voice. I walked in behind Renee, but didn't copy her when she put down the suitcase she was carrying. The feel of my arms about to fall off was helpfully distracting. She spoke as she started to unbutton her coat.
"So Charlie, let me finally introduce you to Isabella Larose. Isabella, this is Mr. Swan." He put out his hand with a nervous smile, and I slowly shifted my suitcase to one hand before taking it.
"You can just call me Charlie. I'm really happy to finally meet you Isabella." He sounded really genuine about it, but I was still having trouble speaking. He relaxed slightly, and I felt like he could sense just how nervous and uncomfortable I was. "Can I take your suitcase for you kiddo?" He asked gently, and I reluctantly let him every tangible memory I owned out of my hand.
"Thank you," I finally forced out, and I winced at hearing it come out as more of a squeak. Renee put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"Don't worry about it," he said happily, and grabbed the other suitcase with his free hand. "Why don't you guys follow me upstairs, and you can both check out Isabella's room."
"That's a great idea," she said, and I followed the two of them upstairs. At the top of the wooden staircase there was a small bathroom, with a bedroom on each side.
"There's the bathroom. My room's the one on the left," he said, nodding his head. "And you're over here." He pushed the half-closed door open with the suitcase in his left hand, and set them both down gently once he was inside the room. "Do you like purple? It's what the saleswoman recommended. Sorry," he said awkwardly.
It was the biggest bedroom I had had since I left my father's house. There was a twin sized bed on the left side of the room with purple sheets and a white down comforter. On the opposite side of the window that was centered on the back wall was a small corner desk with shelves. It had a plain wooden chair in front of it. On the right wall there was a wooden dresser that had a few sets of towels, and an extra set of sheets stacked on the top. I blinked really hard to stop the stinging in my eyes.
"If you don't like them we can go out and you can pick some new ones," he said in a worried tone. I hadn't realized that I'd forgotten to speak, and interrupted him quickly.
"No! Purple's great. Thank you very much Mr. Swan, this is really nice." I was only with Rita and Carl for a month and a half, but the guest room they had me staying in reeked of cigarettes, the paint on the walls yellowed from tobacco smoke. Then Rita got pregnant. Six months later is when I went to live with Tara and George, and they had me sharing a room with their two daughters. Between those places and the ward, I was more than content with this. I had dreamed of buying purple sheets before.
"Please, just Charlie," he reminded me. I gave him a small smile and nodded.
"Why don't you get a little settled in Isabella, and I'm going to go downstairs and do some paperwork with Charlie." She gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and they both left me alone. I stood and listened to them walk down the creaky wooden stairs. I heard Renee open up the clips on her briefcase, and the rumble of her voice as she started having him sign some legal contracts. I picked up my suitcases and laid them gently against the wall beneath the window beside each other. I opened the lock on the grey one on the left, and lifted the lid. I took out the quilt that my mother had made me as a child, my most prized possession, and laid it out across my bed. Then I took out my frayed copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream and placed it on my desk. I stared down at the remainder of its contents; a few other worn books, random knickknacks of my mother's, some photo albums, my shower bag, an old stuffed animal, my silver pocket knife. I took the shower bag out also, setting it on the dresser, and hesitated in front of the open suitcase. Slowly, I looked up and out of the window.
It was a delicate, peaceful view into Charlie's small backyard, sitting on the edge of the forest. Little bits of snow clung to the branches of the thick pine trees, and brown dead leaves covered the forest floor. The rain was pouring down the glass, and I could hear nothing but the faint sound of Renee's and Charlie's voices downstairs. It was too quiet. I sighed, took out my pocket knife, slipped it into my pillowcase, and locked my suitcase before sitting down on the bed. I knew Renee would be telling Charlie things about me, things that had happened in my past, and I had no desire to listen to the story. I closed my eyes, and concentrated on the pattering of the rain against the siding of the house.
. . . . .
Renee called for me almost an hour later, and I went downstairs and joined them in a small kitchen. There was a round wooden table in the middle of the room with three mismatched chairs. I sat in the one empty one, and noted that it matched the one in my bedroom. The one in my room was in a little bit better of shape, and I wondered idly if he had purposely put the nicest one in my room.
Renee sat with us for about two hours, talking as little as possible and watching me as Charlie engaged me in small talk. He told me a bit about himself; he was the Chief of Police in the small town of Forks, never married and didn't have any kids. He had lived here his entire life, liked watching sports games and fishing. He asked me about my hobbies, what types of food I liked, what my favourite movies were and all sorts of easy questions. I had never been good at making polite conversation, but I got the feeling that he wasn't either, and was trying very hard. So I tried my best to keep up my end and make it easier on him. When six rolled around, and the sky had begun to darken, Renee cleared her throat and my stomach clenched.
"Well I think you two are going to be just fine, so I better get on the road. It's a bit of a drive back to Seattle." Charlie and I both stood up quickly, at the exact same time, and Renee gave us a strange smile. We both walked with her to the front door. She buttoned up her pea coat and gave me a smile that was so loving it made my heart clench. I ignored the stinging sensation in my eyes again, but knew that she saw it. She was so perceptive with me. She pulled me into a tight hug, and I squeezed back almost desperately. "You'll be fine, I promise," she whispered before pulling away. "Well, I'll see you both again next Saturday, and you both have my number." She gave me a meaningful look as she said that, and I nodded in understanding.
"Drive safely, there are a lot of deer around here," Charlie said as she ran down the short path to her car through the rain. We watched her pull away, waving good bye, and stood in the doorway silently for a long, awkward moment.
"You want some pizza? I'm not much of a cook," he admitted shyly, breaking the silence.
"Sure, I like pizza." He smiled in relief, and I followed him to his living room. He sat down in a worn armchair, and gestured for me to take a seat on the couch while he dialed the phone and turned on the TV. Ugh, baseball. I found sports dreadfully boring to watch, the fact that I could barely walk in a straight line without injuring myself didn't help my interest. It was his house though, and I wouldn't say anything to upset him. At least we wouldn't be sitting in awkward silence. After he was done on the phone, I felt like he was trying to look at me without actually looking at me. He ruffled his hair slightly, and I wondered if it was some sort of nervous habit.
"You have a really nice house Charlie," I said, just wanting to say something. I was trying not to fidget, or make it too obvious that I just wanted to go upstairs and hide by myself behind a book. He seemed to relax a bit.
"Thanks Isabella. I'm sorry; I'm really not good at this sort of stuff. It's probably obvious, but you're the first, uhm…"
"Foster kid?" I supplied for him. He nodded with an odd expression, like he didn't like the word. Or maybe it was just me, did I say it rudely? Did I upset him somehow? I felt my nails dig into the couch cushion.
"I'm not exactly sure what to do," he confessed, face gentle once again. My hands relaxed. He finally made eye contact, and I wasn't sure what the expression on his face represented. He turned his chair to face me more directly. "Surely you must have more questions?" It was almost a plea for help. I tried not to be too obvious about the deep breath I took to calm myself. Come on, I've done this twice before; I can handle it one more time.
"What's your work schedule like?" I was proud that it came out clearly, my voice didn't shake.
"Well it changes sometimes depending on the work load, but for next couple weeks it should just be Monday to Friday, eight to five. Once you're settled in though, I'll be going back in earlier."
"You really don't need to alter your schedule for me," I said quietly, then was immediately anxious. Of course he wouldn't want to leave a strange kid alone in his house, what if he thought I was trying to get him to leave so that I could rob him?
"Don't worry about it," he waved it off, peeking at the score. It looked like some sort of bird team was beating a team with a cat logo. I had succeeded in getting the ball rolling. "So I'll be dropping you off at school Monday. Classes start at a quarter after seven but we'll have to go in early Monday morning. You're enrolled and expected, but there's some paperwork that you need to fill out. I'll be able to pick you up afterwards, but I'll have to drop you off at home and go back to work for a couple hours." He was going to trust me alone in his house? "I feel like I ought to warn you though. It's a small town, and they don't get new kids too often. You might stand out a bit," he said sympathetically. Oh, great. "Well, we did actually have a few other new kids a little while back, they were a big deal for a little while apparently, but they moved away again not long ago." It had been years? Oh god, I bet the majority of kids here had grandparents that went to school with each other. It was bad enough that I was transferring into the school in December, the semester already started months ago, and if I hadn't fit in with a school of a few thousand, how would I fit into a school of only a few hundred? I was a grade ahead though, so thankfully this would be my last year.
"But we'll have tomorrow all to ourselves. So if you're up for it, we can go for a drive and I can show you around town, and we'll stop and pick up some groceries and get you whatever sort of food you like, and anything else that you need. Then maybe we could go out for dinner?"
I was a little overwhelmed. This isn't how it worked. He gave me my own room, would let me stay in his house without watching me twenty-four-seven, wanted to take me out shopping and buy me things. It was too much, too good to be true, and therefore there was some sort of catch. I started feeling uneasy.
"Why?" I blurted out apprehensively.
He gave me a confused look. "Why what?"
There were a lot of why's, but I narrowed down my choices and decided on only two. "Why did you apply for a foster child? Why did you want me here?"
I'm not sure what he heard in my voice. As he contemplated his response, I tried to determine what emotion was playing on his features. Disappointment, sadness, anger? "I never had kids, but that didn't mean that I didn't want kids. I'm getting older now though, and I don't want to settle down or adopt a baby. I guess… I was just a bit lonely." He watched for my reaction, but I gave him none. I was still waiting for the catch, but not really wanting to say something and upset him. He furrowed his eyebrows, stood up, and sat down beside me on the couch. I slightly shifted away, but I think he saw it. He made no attempt to touch me though. "Isabella. I know you've been through a lot of horrible things in your life." I hated that Renee had to tell them about my past, it made me feel weak. And I was not weak. "I know it will probably take you a while to believe me, but I want you to know that you are safe here. I don't want anything from you, besides maybe a bit of your time. I won't make you do anything that you don't want to do, except go to school. I just want to give you a chance to be happy. I won't send you away or return you like defected merchandise. I won't hurt you. My home is your home now, for as long as you want it to be."
It was hard not to believe the sincerity that was in his voice and in his eyes as he spoke, but I refused to let my hopes get too high. It wasn't worth the pain of the fall. Not wanting to upset him either though, I did what I did best in awkward conversations. Steer away from them. "I actually like school," I said, slightly smiling. He raised an eyebrow before smiling back genuinely at me. That moment the doorbell rang, causing us both to jump.
"Good, so there won't be any arguments then," he said lightly, walking over to the door while pulling his wallet out of his back pocket.
We sat in his living room together and ate dinner, and I watched him in my peripherals as he jumped excitedly when one team would make a point or goal, whatever it was, and grumbled annoyingly when the other team did likewise. As I watched him relax into what I assumed was his regular behaviour, I felt myself relaxing also. A while after we finished, I tried, and failed, to hide a yawn.
"Hey kiddo, you don't have to keep me company. Feel free to head up to your room if you want. I left some towels on your dresser if you want to take a shower or whatever." I tried not to be obvious with my relief, glad that apparently he wasn't the hovering type.
"Thanks Mr.-" He gave me a pointed look,"- uh, thanks Charlie. Goodnight."
"Good night Isabella. Don't be shy to ask if you need anything." I nodded, and went upstairs to my room.
It was as good of a time as any to check out the shower, so I grabbed my toiletry bag, a pair of pyjamas and a towel, and slipped into the bathroom. I marveled at the fact that I would only be sharing a bathroom with one person. It took me a minute to figure out that the hot and cold markers were reversed, and once I got the water to warm up, I couldn't help my usual habit of rushing a bit. I was sure to clean up every spot of water and hair, making sure to leave Charlie's bathroom exactly as I had found it, then slipped back into my room. When I closed my door, I noticed a new eye-and-hook lock had been screwed in on my side of the room. I could lock out anyone from coming in, but couldn't be locked in myself. I didn't hesitate on latching it closed. After turning out my light and curling up in my familiar quilt, I was surprised to find how exhausted I was. I drifted off quickly, not being able to stop my hand from curling involuntarily around my pocket knife in my pillowcase.
. . . . .
I woke up the next morning jumping at the sound of Charlie closing the bathroom door. I made my bed neatly, got dressed in a pair of jeans, a thin white t-shirt and a faded purple hoodie. After pulling my thick hair into a ponytail, I unlocked my door, and sat down cross-legged on my bed while opening up my book. An hour later, after listening to Charlie bang around in his kitchen, I smelt the delicious smell of bacon, and then heard him walk up the stairs. He paused for a moment before knocking gently on my door. I jumped up and opened it quickly.
I saw him take a quick survey of my room, but he didn't say anything about my still-packed suitcases. "Morning Isabella. I cooked some breakfast if you're hungry."
"Okay," I said. He motioned for me to go ahead of him, so I walked out of my room and went downstairs.
It's not like I hadn't had someone cook me breakfast before. The women in the cafeteria made breakfast for everyone in the boarding house. But this was different. There were two plates on the table, each with a big pile of bacon, scrambled eggs and a piece of toast, and two glasses of orange juice. The last time someone had made breakfast just for me was my Mom, before the accident. That was over eight years ago now. I felt the sting of tears in my eyes, and closed them tightly to suppress it. Charlie pulled out a chair for me, and ushered for me to sit down before taking a seat himself, like it was nothing at all.
"Don't worry, I won't be offended if you don't like it," he said as he started to dig into his plate. "I'm not much of a cook. This and burning hotdogs on the barbeque are about the extent of my capabilities." He smiled apologetically at me.
"No, this is great Charlie. Thank you," I said a bit thickly. He waved off my compliment, and we ate quietly for a moment. It wasn't uncomfortable though. I felt like we kind of connected, I was comfortable... sort of, around him, which was a rare thing for me. Suddenly, I was desperate to try and make myself useful, to not be a burden to him. He didn't seem to hate me or anything, but I wanted this kind man to like me too. "I can cook," I said, startling him.
"What?" he said over a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
"I know how to cook. I don't mind cooking for you if you want." Don't do this to yourself, it always ends up badly. You're just going to make the inevitable worse.
"You don't have to do that Isabella. I've managed fine on my own for the past forty-eight years, I didn't ask for you because I wanted you to work for me." He sounded like he actually meant it. A lot of people, when they foster an older kid, expect them to pretty much be a free babysitter and house keeper. But those were things I was coincidentally good at.
"It wouldn't be work, it's something I actually enjoy." He raised an eyebrow, and I looked down at my plate. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to argue. I just don't want to be a burden. You've done so much for me already."
I think I heard him sigh, but he didn't yell at me like I had expected. "Isabella, you are by far the most resigned seventeen-year-old I have ever met. I don't think that qualifies as an argument." His voice was very gentle, and I had to fight the burning sensation in my eyes from overpowering me. "If you really want to cook, you can cook. But don't think you need to earn your keep or any nonsense like that. You're not a burden." When it felt safe to open my eyes, I noticed that my fork was shaking in my hand and I put it down. I smiled as best as I could for him, and I was rewarded with another of his eye-crinkling grins.
After we finished eating I automatically went to take his plate to wash. He made to grab my arm, and I flinched away, dropping the plate on the table. "Sorry!" I squeaked, and he pulled his arm back to his side quickly.
"No no, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"
I nodded silently. He didn't move, and I hesitantly picked up the plate again and washed the dishes quickly. I swear that I felt him watching me the entire time, but he didn't say anything. I was finished in only a couple minutes, and turned to face him.
Sure enough, he had been watching me, and I looked down at my feet, wishing I could stop the blood from rushing to my face. "Do you still want me to show you around town today?" He asked tentatively.
"Okay," I said quietly.
"Isabella?" I looked up at him. "Thank you very much for washing the dishes." He almost sounded sad. "We can leave for that tour in a few minutes if you're ready." I nodded. "You should grab your coat though, it's chilly out."
Five minutes later, we were in his Police cruiser, pulling out of the driveway. I was slightly relieved when he didn't make me sit in the back. I paid close attention as we drove into town, trying to commit the names of the streets we took to memory. He showed me where my school was first, then the grocery store, his favourite diner (and the only restaurant in the small town I think,) the hardware store, the hospital. "We had two really amazing Doctors here a while ago. Really nice family. Him and his wife had adopted four teenagers, and his brother-in-law stayed with them also. He got another job offer not long ago and moved though. His were the kids I mentioned last night." Ah, the last 'new attractions' that the town had witnessed.
"What were their names?" I asked, just trying to keep up conversation.
"There was Doctor Cullen, and Doctor Masen," he said, pulling back into the grocery store parking lot. I looked up at him in surprise. "What? Did you know them?"
"A Doctor with the last name Cullen did surgery on me before, when I was sixteen. He saved my life," I told him. I didn't really remember much about him. He had transferred to a new hospital before I got off of the high dosages of pain meds. All I could really remember were his eyes. I had never seen eyes that resembled liquid gold like that before. I knew that he had done the difficult surgery though, and I would never forget the name of the man who had saved my life.
"What a neat coincidence," Charlie said as he pulled into a parking spot. "Can I ask what you were in the hospital for?"
"I fell down some stairs. Ended up breaking a few ribs and they had to stop some internal bleeding." I said quickly. I didn't return his wide-eyed stare, but instead opened up my door, stepped out of the car, and immediately fell on my ass. God, ice did not help the un-coordinated. Charlie rushed to my side, but I was already standing myself up and brushing the slush off of my coat. "Well I guess it's not too hard to believe you fell down the stairs," he said, trying to make a joke. A vision of my father's enraged face, the last time I had ever seen him, flashed in my mind for half of a second. I pushed the thought away and forced a laugh.
I asked Charlie what his favourite meals were, and wasn't surprised to hear that he was a meat and potatoes type of guy. We walked up and down all of the isles, inspecting their selections carefully. Charlie eyed the amount of vegetables and fruit I selected as if they had verbally insulted him, but didn't say anything.
"Is this too much?" I asked, panicking slightly. I didn't have much money.
"No no, not at all. I just didn't think people actually ate those things."
"Things? You mean squash?"
"If that's what it's called than sure." I couldn't help laughing at his tone, and when he smiled at me I felt my face go red.
"Hey Chief Swan," a boy behind him said. He had sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and looked close to my age. He smiled at me strangely; it wasn't a look that I was used to.
"Hey Mike." He followed his gaze. "Oh sorry, Isabella, this is Mike Newton. His parents own the sporting goods store that I showed you earlier. Mike, this is Isabella Larose, she's going to be staying with me from now on." I stared at Charlie, surprised once again by his words. I would have expected to hear 'foster kid' or 'staying with me for a little while' maybe, but not staying with me from now on. I gingerly took Mike's outstretched hand and shook it.
"Well, it's really nice to meet you Isabella. I take it you'll be going to school here?"
"Um, yeah. Senior year."
His smile got bigger. "Me too." An older woman, hair the same colour as his, called his name. "Well I gotta go, nice to meet you Isabella. I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" I nodded, and he hurried over to help his mother, I assumed, to pick up a flat of pop.
"Not very social, are you?" Charlie asked with a bit of a smirk.
"Sorry," I said automatically. I must have seemed rude.
"Don't worry, I'm not either."
. . . . .
Once we got back to his house, I helped Charlie carry in the groceries, slipping on the slush once again. He held out a hand to help me up, waiting for me to take it instead of just grabbing onto my arm. After a moment, I took it, and he smiled gently after I assured him I was okay. I helped him put everything away, learning the layout of his kitchen in the process. Once we were done, I cleaned myself up a little before he took me out for an early dinner. It was a little weird because every single person seemed to know him, and by the time we got back I had a bit of a head ache from trying to remember so many names. Or maybe that was from hitting my head on the table when I dropped my napkin. I shouldn't have been so overwhelmed though, it wasn't like this was my first or even second time going through this process, but things felt really different this time.
I excused myself once we were back at the house, and Charlie didn't seem to mind, telling me that I should get plenty of rest for tomorrow. I took a shower, trying to force myself not to rush, and braided my wet hair so it wouldn't be too crazy in the morning. It had a mind of its own most of the time. I quietly locked my door, turned off my light, and curled up into my bed. As soon as I felt the cool piece of metal in my pillowcase I fell asleep.
. . . . .
I woke up at four in the morning, and couldn't get back to sleep. I didn't dare close my eyes for longer than a blink whenever I had that dream, for fear of re-entering it. The image of my mother's face, dripping with blood in the crushed car, her blank eyes staring at me, past me, through me with lifelessness. Her scream was silent, but still visible on her face. My heart was beating fast, my throat felt painfully swollen, and my eyes burned with unshed tears as I tried to calm my breathing. No, you will not cry. You will not cry, I told myself. The chant wasn't helping, so I flicked on my light, got dressed for the day as silently as possible, and continued reading my book. The familiar words soothed me. I put all of my concentration into reading the words slowly and loudly in my mind, drowning out all errant thoughts. When I heard Charlie start his shower I slipped downstairs. I grabbed an apple, and munched on it while I got the ingredients together to make an omelette for him. I was just sliding it onto a plate for him as he walked into the kitchen.
"Is this for me?" He asked in shock. I nodded, and went to finish my dishes. "Wow Isabella. This. Is. Amazing." He said, and I smiled. I sat with him as he finished his coffee, observing him in uniform from the corner of my eye. He had a gun holstered on his hip and everything, and looked all the part of Chief of Police. Once he was done, we headed out to his cruiser. I walked very carefully, determined not to get soaked in slush on my first day at a new school. I was happy that the parking lot was close to empty, and assured Charlie that I could handle the paperwork on my own. It was bad enough being the new kid, the thought of being escorted around by the Chief of Police in uniform on my first day was painful. He dropped me off in front of the head office, wishing me luck and offering me a sympathetic smile.
The receptionist was a very sweet woman. She looked to be in her late thirties, with a rounder face, dyed red hair and a big smile. She didn't ask me any prying questions and she had me read and sign the school's code of conduct and read over the few pages of their rules and guidelines. After she gave me a few pamphlets, my schedule and a map of the school grounds, she asked me if I wanted her to walk me to my first class. I saw something akin to pity in her eyes, and declined politely. I didn't need or want anyone's pity, and tried not to let her expression annoy me as I walked back out into the rain, face buried in my map. I hoped to memorize it quickly; I didn't want to be stumbling around with my face hidden behind a piece of paper all day. The parking lot had filled up quickly, and at the moment the map was helping me avoid all of the curious stares I could feel watching me.
I made it to my first class without incident. Calculus. It wasn't my best subject, but I had been in an early advanced class at my last school. They didn't have anything like that at this school, and I was confident that I would breeze through my classes here. I introduced myself to my teacher, and was completely horrified by the fact that he made me introduce myself to the class before he pointed me to the one empty seat next to a girl with long brown hair. The teacher said that they would start by going over last night's home work, and I tried inconspicuously to peek at the page number on my neighbor's textbook. She caught me.
"It's page 307, we had to do all of the odd numbered questions,' she whispered.
"Thanks."
"I'm Angela by the way. It's nice to meet you."
"Isabella. And it's nice too met you too," I said, mirroring her friendly smile. I was worried that she would start asking me questions and get me in trouble with the teacher, but we sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the class. The teacher assigned our new homework, and we had the last ten minutes of class to get started. I finished half.
"What's your next class?" Angela asked me politely. I handed my time table over to her. "Oh, I have English too. I can walk with you if you'd like," she offered shyly.
"Oh, um, sure. Thanks," I stuttered. She went back to her homework then, and I smiled a bit. I think I liked this girl, but reminded myself again not to get too attached. The bell rang, and I brought a sheet to the teacher to sign, and walked with Angela to our next class. She helpfully pointed out the washrooms, the library, the gym and the cafeteria on the way. We entered our second class and she waved goodbye as she went to take her seat. Thankfully this teacher didn't feel the need to make me embarrass myself again as he handed me a text book, a copy of Romeo and Juliet, and pointed me to my seat. There were a few muffled giggles as I caught myself on the corner of his desk, but luckily it didn't knock me over completely. I made my way over to my chair, which was next to none other than Mike Newton.
"Hey Isabella," he said comfortably, like we were old friends. "How was your first class?"
"It was fine. Calculus. Angela seems really nice." The teacher wrote down the reading assignment on the board, then started writing out questions. I smiled; I had read Romeo and Juliet at least four times. It was as close to memorized as I could get without an identic memory. I started writing out the questions quickly, answering each one before I wrote out the next, while Mike kept asking me questions of his own. He wanted to know where I was from, what school I went to in Seattle, if I had a boyfriend there. Eventually he asked how I knew Charlie. "He applied into the foster care program, and I was sent here," I told him bluntly. I didn't see any point in trying to hide it. As I expected, the knowledge seemed to make him slightly uncomfortable, and he stopped asking me questions. I finished the work on the board, and realized that the rest of the class was just now doing the reading. I opened my book and tried to blend in, it wouldn't hurt reading it a fifth time I guess. When the class finished, I went to get my sheet signed and turned in my work, to the professor's surprise.
"You're finished? I was going to give you the week to catch up. The work isn't even due until tomorrow," he said, inspecting my answers. I shrugged.
"I already read the book," I explained uncomfortably.
"Oh, okay. Well good work. I'm sure you'll do just fine here," he told me, handing back the paper with his signature. Mike was waiting for me at the door, and gallantly offered to walk me to my next class. I didn't return any of the stares that followed us down the hall. When we stopped in front of the biology room, he asked me what I had after.
"Gym," I said, not being able to hide the disappointment in my voice.
"Me too," he said excitedly, "I'll see you there."
Everyone was already partnered up in pairs at the longer desks and I ended up sitting by myself, to my relief. No one would be bothering me with uncomfortable questions. I took notes as the teacher went about his lecture, and was a little disappointed that there wasn't anything new to learn. It was making the day almost painfully boring. I finished the worksheets that were handed out, then passed the rest of the time reading about cloud types in my textbook. The teacher stopped at my desk, seeing that I was reading something completely unrelated to the assigned work, and picked up my work sheets to inspect. He raised an eye brow at me.
"Were you in advanced biology at your last school by any chance?"
"Yeah, I finished last year," I told him quietly. He nodded, leaving me to myself as he took my work to his desk to correct.
Gym was even worse, and Mike volunteered to partner with me with for volleyball, despite my warnings. I was much better at hitting him with the ball than getting it over the net, and somehow managed to hit myself in the face with my own fist. I saw Angela give me a sympathetic smile, and was impressed that she didn't laugh. She invited me to sit with her for lunch, and I accepted gratefully.
Mike joined us at our table, and it was filled in minutes. Angela introduced me to her boyfriend Ben, and Mike introduced me to a bunch of other people whose names I just couldn't remember. A girl with blond hair, Jessica I think her name was, was watching him intently as he talked, shooting me curious glances every once in a while.
My last two classes, Spanish and History, went by a little faster, offering the first new knowledge of the day and brightening my mood. I was horrible at Spanish, having elected to study French at my last school, and the prospect of trying to learn another new language excited me. I didn't mind history either, there was just so much information, and my textbook promised some new, interesting reading material. Both of the professors were very patient with me, and gave me some extra work to help me catch up. There were only three weeks left before winter break, and they told me that I would be exempt from the winter midterms because I was new to the subjects, offering to let me do a few essays instead.
After going back to the main office, managing to dodge Mike on the way, I handed in my form that all of my teacher's had signed to the red-haired receptionist.
"Did your day go well sweetie?" She asked with genuine interest. I assured her that it had been fine, and was happy to see Charlie parked out front waiting for me.
"Hey kiddo, how was your first day?" he asked me as we pulled out of the parking lot slowly. Nothing slowed down traffic like a cop car.
"It was okay. The other kids seemed really nice. "
"That's good. I'm going to drop you off at home, but then I have to head back into work for a couple hours. You think you'll be okay by yourself for a little while?" He asked, sounding almost guilty. I assured him that I would be fine, and he handed me my own house key. I smiled mentally at the thought of not being locked out, and having to wait for someone else to let me in whenever I got home. His trust put a tight feeling in my chest.
I walked inside by myself, and went up to my room to make a list of the homework I would need to do. Charlie said that he would be home by five, and I decided to get some dinner started for him. I marinated a couple of steaks, cut up some potatoes, onions, mushrooms, and washed some lettuce for a small salad. By the time he got home, I had already finished my calculus homework, and I was plating the steaks and spooning the sautéed vegetables on top of them. He came and joined me in the kitchen.
"Wow Isabella, this looks great. You're going to spoil me," he said, stomach growling audibly. He sat down as I put a plate down in front of him, and un-holstered his gun, setting it down on the table. I couldn't help jumping back slightly. Guns terrified me. He looked up in surprise, then frowned. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'm just going to put this away upstairs, I'll be right back." I sat down shakily as I listened to him walk up to his bedroom.
Charlie asked me all sorts of questions about my day. I told him that I enjoyed Spanish and History, but didn't tell him how bored I had been with the repetition of my other classes; I didn't want to come off as conceited. He randomly asked me if I had a driver's licence at one point too. After we finished eating, I cleaned up and excused myself to do my homework in my room. After an hour and half of reading up on the civil war, I took a shower and got comfortable in my bed with my Spanish work. Charlie came and checked on me before he headed to bed, peeking in through my open door.
"How's it going?" He asked uncomfortably.
"Good I guess." He nodded, saying good night and headed off to his room. When I heard his door close, I silently shut my own, locking it. I worked for another half hour, then shut off my light. I was grateful for a dreamless sleep.
. . . . .
Despite my own warnings, I quickly fell into a comfortable routine. I learned the names of what became my regular lunch crowd. Every day I ended up sitting between Angela and Mike. Her boyfriend Ben seemed really sweet, and I grew fond of my comfortable friendship with Angela. Jessica always sat with us, it was obvious that she had a thing for Mike, and I learned that they had been on and off for the past year. His talkative friend Tyler sat with us too, along with Jessica's friend Lauren. I seemed to be in my teacher's good books, finishing most of my work during class usually, and didn't struggle too much with the modified material that my afternoon teachers supplied me with.
What surprised me most though was how quickly I became comfortable at Charlie's. It was shocking how much I enjoyed staying with him, and how much alike we were. He was a very quiet and kind man. He never pried or asked me too many questions, and seemed to thoroughly enjoy my cooking. He seemed to quickly grasp how uncomfortable I was with physical contact, and I felt guilty seeing the hurt expression on his face when I would flinch away if he got too close. He gave me plenty of space. I appreciated it, and tried my best to be as small of a burden as possible. I was still grateful to see Renee on Saturday though, and she took me out for coffee at the one restaurant in town.
"So, how are things going here?" she asked hopefully when we settled into our booth.
"Pretty good actually. School's not much of a challenge, but the kids are nice enough. I made a friend," I told her, surprising her.
"And what about things with Charlie?"
"He's… Really nice. Nicer than I'm used to," I admitted quietly. It was hard not to trust Renee, and it was nice to speak comfortably with someone I trusted. "He's an easy person to live with." I felt Renee's hand reach out and take mine, and when I looked up at her, she had the brightest smile on her face. I couldn't stop myself from returning it.
"I'm really glad to hear that," she told me gently. "See! I told you that you'd like it here. This place is going to be good for you, I can feel it," she said confidently.
She stayed for dinner during her short visit, and I didn't have the same dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach when she left this time. Charlie walked her out to her car, and seemed to be asking her a few questions. I gave them some privacy, and went to wash the leftover dishes.
I didn't hear him come back inside, so when he said my name from closely behind me, I screamed and dropped the knife I had been cleaning, splashing bubbles all over myself. "Oh Isabella, I'm so sorry! I should have been louder, I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that. Jeeze, are you okay?"
I felt a stinging in my right hand, and followed his panicked gaze. The sharp knife had sliced through the meaty part of the palm of my hand, and I could see the muscle underneath. And the blood, oh god. The smell hit me quickly, like salt and rust, as the blood dripped heavily onto the floor. I felt a powerful wave of nausea hit me, and the room titled quickly before everything went black.
. . . . .
It was hard to open my eyes, my head was pounding and I felt like I was going to be sick. My right hand was sore, and felt really stiff, but it was my left that caught my attention. It was too warm, and it took me a moment to realize that someone was holding onto it. I ripped it out of Charlie's grasp, sitting up quickly and making the room spin. As soon as I saw the pained look on his face I regretted my actions.
"Sorry," I mumbled, leaning back in the hospital bed.
"Nothing to apologize for kiddo. How are you feeling?"
"Sick," I admitted, closing my eyes tightly.
"I'll go get the doctor," he said hastily, his chair scraping the linoleum floor as he stood up.
"No no, it's okay. It happens whenever I take any sort of painkiller," I admitted. It was something I was familiar with, and was immediately aware that they had given me something while I was out. "How did we get here?"
"Oh, um, you kind of… Fainted. Hit your head on the counter pretty hard on the way down too, the doctor wants to watch you for a little while to make sure you don't have a concussion. I drove you here. It's one of the upsides to having flashing red and blue lights on top of your car." I smiled slightly at his attempt to make me laugh, and inspected my heavily bandaged hand.
"Stitches?" I asked, already knowing the answer, I could feel the tightness of them in my skin.
Charlie nodded. "Eleven. You've lost a bit of blood." We were interrupted by the Doctor coming in.
He was an older man, with grey hair and a bit of a belly. He seemed really tired. "Ah, Miss Larose, you're awake. That's a good sign," he said. I let him take my blood pressure, my heart rate, and he shined a little flashlight in my eyes. "Well, I think you may have a bit of a concussion, but it should be safe enough for you to go home. You'll have to keep a close eye on her, wake her up every couple hours to make sure she's okay, and if you have any nausea or bad migraines come back immediately."
"She nauseous now though!" Charlie said, looking slightly panicked again.
"It's probably just the anesthetic, it will wear off in a couple hours," he said dismissively. Charlie huffed irritably.
"Man, I miss Doctor Cullen already," he grumbled.
"I'm fine, really Charlie. Sorry for putting you through all this trouble."
He looked at me tenderly. "Stop apologizing kid. Let's get you home."
It was nearly midnight when we got back to his place. I couldn't lock my door, because he would have to wake me up frequently, but he assured me that he would do so by knocking loudly. He was obviously afraid to scare me again, and I felt bad with the knowledge that I would be ruining his night of sleep. So much for not being a burden.
. . . . .
I was completely exhausted the next couple days, it was hard to feel rested after being woken up every hour, the burning pain in my palm prevented even that little bit of rest from feeling effective. Charlie, against my arguments, called my school saying that I would take Monday and Tuesday off, and called for someone to fill in for him at work. On Tuesday morning I was finally starting to feel a bit more human, and when we stopped at the hospital for my checkup the doctor told me I was in the clear. Charlie was fidgety as we walked back to the car, and I could immediately tell that something was up. He wasn't a hard person to read, but I waited for him to talk when he was ready to. Sure enough, before he pulled out of the parking lot, he turned to face me.
"Isabella, I was thinking of going to visit my friend Billy today, and I was hoping that you would come with me to meet him," he told me nervously. After everything he'd done for me over the past couple days, there was no way I could refuse him this small request.
"Sure, lets go," I said, trying to make my voice sound as positive as possible. I had never had a foster parent introduce me to their best friend before, but didn't want him to see just how nervous it made me.
I was curious when we seemed to drive out of town, and saw an old wooden sign welcoming us to the "La Push Reservation." I had heard the name mentioned at school a couple times, apparently a lot of the kids came down to the beach here in the summer. Not far after crossing into the town limits, we pulled up a gravel drive to a small red and white, weather-beaten house. It had a small ramp that had been installed over the stairs, and I followed tentatively behind Charlie as he walked up and knocked on the door.
The man that answered was in a wheel chair. He seemed about the same age as Charlie, and had rich brown skin and long, black hair. I was immediately aware that this man had a powerful, yet kind air to him. He smiled when he noticed me.
"Come in, come in!" He said in a happy, booming voice. "Isabella, it's so nice to finally meet you! Charlie here hasn't shut up about you coming to stay with him for weeks," he told me with his big smile. I looked over to Charlie curiously, his face was beat red and he was purposely not making eye contact with me. I had that tight, unfamiliar sensation in my chest again. "Please, come sit down."
He led us into a small, cozy living room. An old couch was nestled tightly against the biggest wall, and there were a couple armchairs packed in to the room as well. An old, small TV sat on a short shelf. Charlie sat down on the couch, patting the seat beside him for me to sit down. I slightly tripped over the low coffee table, falling into my seat not very elegantly. Charlie chuckled slightly, shaking his head.
Billy Black and Charlie had been friends since they were young kids, they told me. He was some sort of leader in his small community, that was obvious, but the details of that were a mystery to me. He had three children, twin girls that had moved away from home a few years ago, and a son who still lived with him, who was apparently just a few months younger than I was.
"Where is Jacob, anyways?" Charlie asked him. "I was hoping to introduce him to Isabella today."
"Yeah sorry, he wanted to be here, but something came up and he needed to help his friends with something," he explained vaguely. They sat talking about random things for about an hour, mostly arguing about a recent football game, and I found listening to their banter oddly comforting. I welcomed the smile that I felt slowly form on my face. I was a little surprised when Charlie stood up suddenly, and the two of them each wore a big grin. "Well I think we've wasted enough time."
"Yup," Charlie agreed. "Come outside Isabella, I've got a surprise for you." I felt my face blanch at the hauntingly familiar words, and Charlie's expression changed to one of concern.
"What's wrong Isabella? Are you okay?" He asked, voice full of concern. Get a hold of yourself. Charlie is different, I shouted in my mind. I forced a smile on my face.
"It's nothing, I'm fine." He obviously didn't believe me as he scrutinized my face with an almost painful expression. I stood up somewhat shakily, and after a small sigh, Charlie led me outside, Billy on our heels. We walked around to the back of the house, where there was an old, large red truck parked on the lawn.
"Surprise!" Charlie shouted. I didn't really understand, and just stared at him. He fidgeted slightly. "I thought you might like your own way of getting around town, you couldn't have enjoyed being dropped off in my police cruiser every day… I know it's not that fancy, but Jacob just rebuilt the engine so it should run great..." His voice trailed off into a whisper.
It was a moment before I could speak, looking back and forth between him and the truck. "You… Bought me a truck?" I choked out quietly.
He nodded, trying to encourage me with a smile. That sent me over the edge. I couldn't stop my tears from spilling over then, and the fact that I broke my one rule just made me cry that much harder. My breathing came out in loud, shaking sobs, making it extremely hard to breathe. I felt him walk towards me, and when I looked up into his sad eyes, he very slowly placed a hand on my shoulder. I didn't flinch away from him this time, instead falling into his chest and holding onto him tightly. He gently wrapped his arms around me, hugging me back, and just let me cry into his shirt. I could faintly hear him muttering calming words like 'It's okay honey,' and 'just let it all out' over my loud sobs. He gently stroked my hair, and waited patiently while I soaked his shirt.
Thanks for reading!