I wiped the tears from my face, looking at my best friend, Angela. We were going separate ways, her to California, to work on her degree in counseling, me to New York to be a tattoo artist. As different as we were, we have gotten along really well since I moved here with my dad Charlie. I smiled remembering the way we met, as she drove away in her white sedan. I had just gotten into another fight. My third since I had moved here. That skank Lauren deserved it though; she had ripped up my hall pass, causing me to get a detention. I was in the office, when Angela's tiny frame walked in. she sunk into the seat next to me and said, "Hi, whaddya do?" I learned later that she wasn't very shy, but she was usually quiet. Her approaching me like that was unusual for her, but she thought we would get along great. How true she was.
I texted her saying "miss you already!" as I got into the old red truck my father had given me when I turned 16. Though its condition was rough, it was still perfect for me. I just hope it will make it to New York. When I climbed into the truck, I gave myself a pep talk. "Come on Swan, you're not this type of girl, grow up!" then I started the car and drove to my last stop before the long twisting road to the big apple. My dad's.
As I drove into the driveway of my childhood home, I remembered all the god times I've had here, in the not so sunny place of Forks, Washington. I would miss this place, even if I was brought here in the worst times. I was considered broken when I came here, but I gained hope and courage here, and I learned to defend myself. You learn to love the place that saved you. Tears were running down my face as I walked into the door, closer to my dad. I heard the familiar clink, clink of him loading the clip of his police chief's gun.
"Dad?" I asked in a garbled broken voice.
"Bells!" he replied, embracing me in a hug. "I'll miss you Hun. You got to make me proud though, ok?"
"Dad, I'm going to be a Tattoo artist, not a marine. How do I make you proud?" I laughed, already feeling relaxed.
" Bells, I'm proud that you'll be showing your art. It's the one good thing you've always had. And maybe, you can sell some of your art and be a professional artist some day. You never know. And I'll always be proud of you." He said. Charlie's not one for words, but when he says something, it really means something.
"That's really deep dad, did you rehearse that?" I asked, jokingly.
"What, your old man can't be deep?" he retorted.
Then I glanced at the clock. The time I have been dreading and hoping for has come.
"Dad, I have to go. Remember, I love you. I'll call you when I get to a hotel, ok?" I said sadly.
"Ok Bells, I Love you!" He replied while I got into the truck. Next, New York, a.k.a, my future.