As the deep sound of the final bell of the school day let out, I grinned to myself and packed up my things; wanting to get out of Biology as fast as possible. I couldn't say that I was excited that I'm moving to Forks to live with my father, but I also couldn't say I was disappointed either. My mother needs to be with her husband while he's away, and I was the only reason she stayed behind so it was a logical solution, right?
I tucked my plain brown hair behind me year as I shoved my blue binder marked 'Biology' into my backpack. I stood up as my best friend, Claire, walked over with sadness covering her face. If I missed anything the most from Arizona, it would definitely be Claire. We've been best friends since the first day at Kindergarten, when she bounced over to me during recess - with her blue eyes shining their usual brightness and her dirty blonde hair brushed into curly pigtails – and offered to play with me on the playground since my shy self was too cowardly to ask. We've been pretty much inseparable since; from slumber parties every weekend to vacations together, we've never had a reason not to hang out. But she understood my reasoning to leave, but that doesn't mean that she has to like it.
"Hey, Bella," She tried to smile, but dropped it as soon as we both knew that she couldn't pull it off. We made our way through the busy throng of our fellow students, all rushing to enjoy the usual Phoenix sun after a long Friday of tests and assessments. "You excited for the move?" I threw her a small smile, glad she wasn't going to be mad at me for my decision.
"I think I'm getting the move jitters or something, 'cause I'm actually really nervous," I confessed, turning my combination onto the lock of my locker and pulling the door open. On Wednesday I turned all my books in so I didn't have too much to shove into my backpack; just a couple of binders and my favorite black jacket that I was wearing this morning. "But I'm excited to see my dad; it's been forever since I bothered to take a trip up to Washington." 3 years in fact. I was supposed to visit my dad over the summer every year for 2 weeks, but the past few years just haven't worked out for me to be able to. And part of me feels guilt over not seeing my father. But the other part of me thinks that he could come down here as well sometimes.
"Yeah, it has been forever since I've last seen Chief Sawn. Tell him I said hi, would you?" Oh yeah, my father is also the police chief of the miniscule-sized town of Forks, Washington – one of the main reasons I didn't like visiting him during the summers. Everybody would be hesitant to do anything around me; thinking I would immediately go tell my father like the good child that I am. Cue eye roll.
I smile at Claire as we get to the crossroad between our houses. "Sure thing," I answer. For a moment we just stand there looking at each other, the warm Arizona breeze brushing our hair into our faces. "Well," I bite my lip and look at the ground; not wanting to see the sad, lost puppy dog look in her eyes anymore. "I'll text you when I get to Forks?"
"No, you'll Skype me," Claire rolls her pretty blue eyes with a huff.
"Skype then," I smirk. I knew as soon as I said it that she would refuse and want to Skype; Claire hates texting with a passion. She always says that it's inhuman or unfeeling when people text each other. That you can't tell what their feeling; which is my blonde friend's favorite thing about people - their feelings and emotions. She says that it makes them human.
She pulls me into a hug and holds onto me, her manicured nails digging into my shoulders. When we separate, she smiles at me one more time. "Skype," She demands one last time, her finger pointing at me in a do-as-I-say way. I laugh and nod in agreement as I turn away.
"See you later, Claire," I wave my hand over my shoulder as I continue my way toward my road so I could finish packing.
"See you, Bella," Claire's voice reaches my ears as I turn the corner. I look over my shoulder to see her skipping in the opposite direction as me toward her house – back to her usual self. With a smile and a shake of my head I start my way back to my house. Some part of me is holding onto the hope that we'll keep in touch even after the move through graduation. You never know what will happen.
Little did I know, my life was about to be flipped upside-down in less than two hours.
Packing for Forks as hard as I thought it was going to be. Since it was as cold as the Artic in the rainy Washington state compared to sunny Arizona, most of my clothes would have to be left behind. I wonder what Charlie felt about shopping trips, 'cause I was in a desperate need of one as soon as I land there tomorrow.
Placing my two suitcases and my backpack that was working as my carry-on by my bedroom door, I took a moment to look around my room. The bare, white walls held none of my childhood memorabilia, like a week ago. Mom was obviously busy with getting ready to go traveling with Phil as the rest of the house was the same. She told me earlier, before she left to go to the bar with him, that everything was in storage now that I'll be out of the house and those two will be all over the country. She didn't see any reason to keep them out to collect dust while nobody will be here; and to make sure nothing will get stolen. Renee was always paranoid about someone stealing her stuff so I tried not to be that surprised.
Now that everything was packed, I had nothing to keep my mind off of the move and everything that it entailed. New school, making new friends, new room, a fresh start. With all this change, I felt like the walls were closing in on me, keeping me trapped within them. I had to get out of here, get some fresh air. Grabbing my black jacket and tugging it on, I jumped off my porch and decided that I'm going to go window shopping until the bubble of panic in my chest calms down a little.
The mall strip of Phoenix was packed, not very unusual since it was a Friday night. All the school kids now having time to spend their allowances or paychecks with a later night curfew. 'Hunting Moons', the local bar and club, was overflowing with guests in a line that looked to be wrapping around the building – twice. The spray painted purple brick chipping with time, the neon pink sign flickering in the moonless night. Seeing the club made me think where my mom and Phil disappeared off to tonight. Maybe that's where they are? Shaking my head I continued my stroll down the street, knowing this will be my last chance in a while. Passing the club, I turn my head and notice a little, dainty shop hiding between the club and the butcher shop next to it. The sweaty smell of meat and the sharp stingy smell of alcohol mixing together in the air making me wrinkle my nose and focus on that; almost making me miss the shop in between them. I looked up at the sign, my nose still wrinkling in distaste from the smell. The sign read 'Roster's Antiques est. 1917'.
I looked around and noticed that most people were walking by the shop without a glance to it. Was the shop that bad? Were there no quality things in there? I was wondering as person after person just strolled by the shop, not even hesitating to go in like myself. I hear my father's voice in my head, some advice from when I was younger and would go visit him in the summer without fighting tooth and nail the whole way. When I actually liked going fishing with him.
You'll never know unless you jump in head first yourself, Bells. He would say as he wired a fishing pole for me. Never take people's word on something as pure gold, try it for yourself first before you make a permanent decision. Nodding to myself, I straightened my shoulders and wrapped my hands around the cold door handle to pull the door open.
A bell chimed as the smudged glass door opened and closed. Inside didn't look much better than the door. Random furniture was scattered throughout the small space, dust looking like it was taking its sweet-ole time collecting on the many surfaces. Toward the back of the store I saw a chubby bald man with the signature Arizona tan wave from the dark wood counter and pointed to the back door to signal that he was going to the back. I nodded and looked around – trying to figure out which direction to start in. Shrugging, I turned left and decided I'd make a full circle around the store while the worker was out in the back.
There was anything you could imagine in here. Mirrors, sofas, chairs, tables, vases, and even a bathroom sink. I laughed as I walked around the porcelain, to see what was behind it. More vases and old jewelry cases were stacked haphazardly on top of each other in no particular order. To the left of that was an armoire with chipped cherry wood and a handle missing. The other door to it was swung open revealing all that lied within; which I have to say wasn't much. A ratted red scarf with a pair of black dress heels peeked out from under a man's torn tan dress slacks and matching dress shoes, but what caught my eye was the photo that was trapped under the man's shoe. I traipsed around the vases and hanging jewelry and pulled open the other door to the armoire open so that I could see what else it was holding. Nothing much became my conclusion, just more ratted old clothes and shoes. I lifted the man's shoe to look at the black and white photo. There were two males and one female. The female, obviously the wife, had her arm around a tall, older looking man – probably her husband. The husband hand his hand clapped on the shoulder of the other guy who looked just as tall with a crooked smile, his bright eyes shining. I don't know why, but I found it hard to look away from him. Maybe it was that he stood out too much from the other two people in the picture.
Where they were all prim and proper – the man in a suit and the women in an elegant dress – he only wearing dress pants and what looked like a black dress shirt with their sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I think that it was his hair was what caught my attention so much though. It blew in every which direction as if the wind was crazy that day or he just rolled out of bed and had no way of controlling it. The husband and wife's hair were in perfect position, making me believe it wasn't the day's wind that was making his hair that way. I guess it was just his way of styling it. I flipped over the fragile paper to see the date '1918, Chicago' on the back, making me wonder how it got all the way to Arizona from the great windy city.
"Go ahead and take it, the things not worth a penny," A southern accent said out of nowhere, making me go 3 feet in the air, almost knocking over the dusty vases. "Sorry about that, Sweetheart. I thought you heard me."
"It's alright, I should've been paying attention," I took a few deep breaths and held up the photo, silently asking if he was serious.
He waves a hand away from him, as if it doesn't matter. "Don't know why you'd want, but go ahead and take it. I've had this here armoire since I moved the store from Illinois, and still haven't been able to sell it." I guess that's how it got here from Chicago. "Go scamper off before I change my mind, Sweetheart." I smile and thank him about five times, which he just waves his hand away at each time, before I exit the store and start to make my way back to my house to get some sleep. My watch reads 9:55 p.m., so I have about 14 hours before my flight to Washington.
When I get home, I shower and slip into my pajamas before setting the Chicago photo in my backpack and climbing under my sheets. As I close my eyes and drift to sleep, Black and white shining eyes and a crooked smile filter through my dreams the whole night, playing like an old film in my head. Black and white images of the teenage guy with the wild hair playing baseball in the park with other faceless boys, eating turkey and laughing with the husband and wife, sitting at a piano with his eyes closed as his long elegant fingers float across the black and white keys, lying in a hospital bed alone with his eyes closed – pale and covered in sweat from a fever.
I don't know why but the last image is the one that scares me the most; that makes me want to cry and hold him and ask him what's happening. I don't know why, but I feel like I know this teenager from the photo, like he means something to me. Or he's going to at least.