My mother Renee drove me to the Phoenix airport early that morning, windows rolled down, and the sky a sparkling clear blue. There were no clouds in sight for miles. The gentle cool breeze blew through my open window as I held my carry-on item in my hand. It was a parka.

I was going to go live with my dad in the small and less populated town of Forks, located in the Olympic Peninsula in northwest Washington. It was a dark, gloomy, and sunless town; one that my mother and I escaped when I was only just a few months old. We finally arrived to the airport. I was going to miss the sun on my face and the hot blistering heat under my feet.

"Bella," my mom said to me after a few thousand times before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

My mom looks like me, except with short hair and laugh lines. I suddenly felt panic shot through me. How could I leave my loving, erratic mother to fend for herself? Of course she has Phil, so the bills will most likely get paid, there would will be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still…

"Mom, trust me. I want to go," I lied, although it didn't sound too convincing. My eyes gave everything away. I had been saying this so many times to her lately that it almost sounded convincing now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will," I promised her.

"I'll see you soon Bells," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want—I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

Although she sounded convincing, I could see the sacrifice behind her promise.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine," I urged. "It'll be great, you'll see. I love you, Mom."

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was gone. I couldn't believe I was on my way to Forks. Was I for real right now?

It was a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me all that much, but the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.

Charlie had been fairly nice about the whole situation and seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He already got me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car.

But being with Charlie was for sure going to be awkward. I didn't know what I was going to say to him. We are both known to be shy. I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision. I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks to anyone.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. Not the best way to be welcomed to a new area. I already said my goodbyes to the sun before I boarded the plane.

Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the people of Forks, Washington. I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing stops traffic like a cop. That's why I was anxious to get my own car.

Charlie greeted me with an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled off the plane with my luggage wheeling behind me.

"It's great to see you Bella," he said, smiling as he caught me and steadied me from my embarrassing stumbling down the stairs. "You haven't changed much," he said with hint in his voice. "How's Renee doing?"

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you too Dad." I apparently wasn't allowed to call him Charlie, well at least to his face.

Most of my Arizona clothes were too chilly for Washington, so I didn't have many bags with me. Mom had helped me go through my clothes, deciding which ones would stay and which ones would come with me. Many stayed at home. Although Mom helped me pool our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, it was still pretty scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser though.

"I, uh, found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced waiting for me to strap in.

"What kind of car?" I asked slowly. Of course I noticed how he said "good car for you" instead of just "good car."

"It's actually a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?" I asked curiously.

"Do you remember Billy Black who lives down at La Push?" La Push in a tiny Indian reservation on the coast outside of Forks.

"No," I admitted.

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie explained.

That would explain why I don't remember Billy Black. I had a habit of blocking painful and unnecessary things from my mind, things I didn't want to remember.

"He's in a wheel chair now," Charlie continued, "so he can't drive anymore. He offered to sell me his truck cheap, and I thought it would be good for you."

There it was again, "a good truck for you."

"What year is it?" I could see from his expression he was hoping I wasn't going to ask that particular question.

"Billy's done a lot of work on the engine—it's a only a few years old," he explained.

And he thought I was going to give up that easily. I was known to be quite stubborn "When did he buy it?"

"Um, 1984, I think?"

"Well, did he buy it new?" I asked, hoping for a little more information. If it's going to be my car, I at least want to know where it started.

This is all I've written so far, let me know it I should continue. Please write a review!