Sent Away

The town of Forks was exactly how my Mom had described it to me: perpetually overcast, it smelled heavily of forest pine. Compared to Jacksonville's sunny atmosphere, Forks looked rather dreary. I hoped the people here weren't sullen as the climate. But my worries about that were lifted as soon as Charlie Swan, my mom's ex-husband, showed up at the airport to pick me up.

I was to live with him for a few weeks. I would have moved in instead with my sister Bella, whom I had never met, if it weren't for the fire that burned the Cullen house along with her and her family ten years ago.

"Elspeth," said Chief Swan, "why, except for the hair, you look a lot like Bella."

I knew that was supposed to be a compliment, so I smiled. But inside, it stung. To be compared with my sister was the last thing I wanted to hear. I had seen pictures of her when she was my age; I do bear a striking resemblance to her, especially the lips and the smile and the shape of her face and her eyes. But my eyes are sea-green, like my dad's; my hair is naturally honey blonde, but I had dyed streaks of red, hot pink and violet on it.

Yes, since enjoying pieces of gothic literature such as those of Bram Stoker, Washington Irving, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Edgar Allan Poe and Mary Shelley, as well as modern pieces like Emilie Autumn's The Asylum for Wayward Victorian Girls and Jillian Venters's Gothic Charm School, I am a Goth. Mom never really complained about that since I made up for it by avoiding the crap that encouraged false stereotypes on the subculture.

"I hope I'm not intruding," I told Chief Swan. Indeed, the last thing I wanted was to barge into this man's life. But I had been having problems that led to something that even I didn't like. At home, Mom would complain about my occasional mood swings and the mess I would make in my room. It would have all been okay if she wouldn't follow it up by comparing me to Bella and how neat and smart and responsible she was. My dad Phil would try to make me feel better but he would end up defending Mom by saying that she just misses my sister.

That broke my heart even more. My sister, who got married right after high school and never came to visit my mother, was still more special to Mom than me, who tried to make her proud for sixteen years. So one day, I packed my bags, expecting her to stop me. To my surprise, she told me to go ahead and leave, just like Bella did. She arranged with Bella's dad Charlie to accommodate my presence for the time being. I thought she was either crazy or stupid to just let me go.

"Why are you crying?" asked Chief Swan, while he drove me to his home.

"I'm not crying," I lied, not wanted to let him know how much I hated his daughter.

"I hope you like Forks," said Chief Swan.

His house was a quaint one. It has two floors, and it looked bigger on the inside. It wasn't as warm and welcoming as the one my family had in Jacksonville, but it sure looked cozy. I was given my sister's old room. The walls were still decorated with her childhood drawings and cutouts and teenage posters. It disturbed me to know that these decorations had been here all my life.

"I had the bedclothes laundered …" muttered Chief Swan.

No matter how much of it was a reminder of my sister, I still liked it. "It looks fit for a princess. Thanks, Chief Swan."

"Call me Charlie."

At that, he left me alone to unpack by myself. I wasn't normally very neat, so I might have to ask him for help later. Half an hour later, the closet was filled with my clothes. When I was putting my shoes at the bottom of the closet, I found a half-filled scrapbook.

Bella didn't seem to have been at all interested in filling it out. There were no colorful designs—only a few photos, including a few of a small group of people I guessed to be her high school friends, and several pictures of a gorgeous guy with chestnut hair. Bella looked awkward and uneasy next to him. It would have been better if she'd tried to smile more happily. After all, it was obvious from the way they held each other that they were crazy about one another.

"His name was Edward Cullen," said Charlie's voice behind me.

"Yeah, Mom told me," I said. "We have a few wedding pictures at home. Mom seems fond of him."

Charlie suddenly made a strange choking noise, as if he just tried not to laugh. I turned to him. "Don't you like him?" I asked.

"He was fine, really," began Charlie. "Normally well-behaved and polite, I could see why Bella felt safe with him. But there was this time when he abruptly broke up with her and left her depressed for months. I'll spare you the details, but to summarize: I thought that was unforgivable."

"But you let them get back together!"

"I tried making her see things my way. But all she saw was him. I had to learn to let her go."

It was hard not to be judgmental. I had never met Bella. There could be a thousand possible reasons as to why she broke away from her family just to be with a guy she had known for less than two years. But I was deeply disturbed: no respectable young woman would let a guy back in after leaving her like that. Meanwhile, I was awed at how patient Charlie and Mom had been.

Once I was done unpacking, I eased my mind by taking out my violin and playing Mendelssohn's Violin Concerto in E minor, of which I had only recently mastered the first movement. I had fallen in love with the violin when I was four, when I'd spotted a shiny one displayed at a window of a music store not far from the athletics store where Daddy had bought his equipment. The store owner had seen me and, noting my fascination with the little instrument, shown me how to play one. On my fifth birthday, Mom and Daddy had bought me my first violin. At first, it was just a hobby. But by the time I was about six, Mom had started opening up about Bella, and the comparisons begun. The violin became my outlet; and with it, I tried to prove to her that I could be good in my own right. Mom became proud of me, like I had expected her to be, but that didn't stop her from comparing me with Bella. If I had a choice, I wouldn't have gone to Forks, where Bella used to live. But I am only sixteen; my parents would be making choices for me until I move out and go to college. Fortunately, with Charlie looking after me, things might not be bad.