Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I don't own it's characters. Stephenie Meyer does. Lucky woman.

"Are you sure you don't need help, Bella?" my mom Renee asked again. She had walked me down the departure gate, and was now trying to escort me to my seat on the plane to Seattle.

I sighed and nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Alright then," she said, her voice choked. "Email me after you get to Charlie's. I love you."

I smiled up at her. "Don't worry about me," I urged. "You won't even notice I'm gone." I hugged my mom goodbye one last time, and carefully boarded the plane. Carefully because I am one of the clumsiest people on earth. And because I'm blind.

But as soon as I got on the plane, I started to regret telling her that I didn't need help. I was surrounded by a blanket of sound. People were talking over each other, stuffing their bags into the overhead compartments, listening to music, and all sorts of other things. That was a problem. I may be blind, but I can hear incredibly well. If it's quiet enough, I can figure out how a room is shaped by listening to sound waves bounce off the walls, and hear each separate vibration in a sound. The sounds on the plane probably sounded normal to the people around me, but – with my sensitive ears – to me it was very, very loud. Almost deafening. The chaotic maze of noise disoriented me. It was like being in a pitch black room, with people yelling and screaming all around me.

I blinked, and tried to tune it out as I walked down the aisle, using my cane to keep me from running into the seats. I knew what seat I was supposed to be in, so I counted rows as I passed them, until I had passed the right amount of rows. Then I reached up, and felt for the Braille next to the seat number to make sure I was in the right place. I found it, and felt carefully. Eighteen B and C. I smiled faintly – I was in eighteen B.

"Do you need help, Honey?" asked a woman's voice below and to my left.

I looked down, even though I couldn't see her. "I'm in eighteen B," I replied, "Are you sitting next to me?"

"Yes. Let me get up so you don't have to crawl over me."

I stepped back quickly to give her space. Her clothes rasped against the seat as she stood. I felt a gentle hand touch my elbow and expertly guide me forward, as if the woman helped blind people all the time. She tugged lightly when I was even with the seat, telling me when to turn and sit down. Once we were seated, I turned to her and thanked her. "You did that very well," I complemented.

She laughed. "Thank you. My niece is blind, so I've had a bit of practice. My name's Sherrie, by the way."

I smiled. "I'm Bella," I said, and extended my hand. Sherrie shook it, and started to say something else, but one of the flight attendants chose that moment to begin her lecture about seat belts, oxygen masks, and emergency exits.

Then the plane took off, and Sherrie asked me a question. "Why are you going to Seattle?"

I kept my smile in place with some difficulty. "I'm going to live with my father." I didn't want to live with him in the tiny, rainy town of Forks. I was going so that my mom could have more time with her new husband, Phil. He traveled a lot, and Mom had to stay home with me. It was making her unhappy, and I hated that. So I decided to move in with Charlie.

After a short pause, Sherrie dropped the subject. We didn't talk very much during the rest of the flight. I could hear Sherrie turning the pages of a book, and I listened to music. I also worried about how I would be received in my new school. My class in Phoenix had over three thousand students, and I hadn't been able to find very many friends there. Not that I had minded – I was never lonely. But now I was going to a high school with only three hundred fifty-seven people – in all four grades. I wondered if they would think of me as a blind freak, and not come anywhere near me, or if they would try to be pity-friends. I hated pity-friends, and would have preferred to be isolated rather than be surrounded by them. I have accepted the fact that I'm blind, but I don't like it when people patronize me because of it.

The plane began its decent, and the pilot's voice came out of the intercom, telling us to refasten our seat belts. I turned off my CD player, put it back in my carry-on bag, and pulled out he parka I had also packed. The plane touched down with a jerk, and taxied up the the arrival gate. The people around me got up, and waited their turn to get off the plane. I stayed in my seat so that I wouldn't have to battle the crowd. Sherrie said a quick goodbye, and left. After I heard most of the people leave, I stood, and made my way down the arrival gate with the help of a flight attendant. As soon as I was in the airport itself, I sat down in one of the chairs near the gate, and waited for Charlie, who was supposed to come pick me up.

I waited for ten minutes, and Charlie still didn't come. I started to worry that he had forgotten about me. I tried to take my mind off of the possibilities by taking my CD player back out and listening to Wuthering Heights on audio. Eventually, I became so absorbed in the story, that I forgot about my surroundings. Thus, when someone's hand clapped me on the shoulder, I jerked, startled, and gasped. I stood rapidly, tearing my headphones off. My eyes were wide, instinctively trying to see who it was that had frightened me, futile as it was.

"Sorry, Bells," a male voice said apologetically. I relaxed. That was Charlie's voice. Now that I was paying attention, I could smell him. He smelled like Old Spice and leather, the latter because of his leather sheriff's jacket.

"It's okay, Dad," I replied, giving him a smile. "I just wasn't paying attention."

His leather jacket crackled as he reached forward to give me a hug. I hugged him back.

"How long have you been waiting?" Charlie asked guiltily as he pulled away, and picked up my suitcase.

"I don't know." I answered truthfully. I had been too absorbed in the book.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. I was working, and I lost track of time. When I looked up at the clock, and saw how late it was, I came as fast as I could," he explained as we walked through the airport to the doors, with me holding his arm to stay on track.

I smiled slightly, ruefully. I hoped that he would be able to remember to drop me off at school, and pick me up, or else these months were going to be difficult. I didn't want to have to continuously beg rides home from my new classmates.

Silence settled between us when we ran out of things to say. It wasn't uncomfortable, and I hoped that it would stay that way throughout the hours-long drive from Seattle to Forks. Charlie helped me into his police cruiser, and shut the door behind me. I heard him walk around the car, and sit down in the driver's seat with a sigh.

As we drove out of the city, all of the city noises faded. It was a silence unlike any other I had ever heard. The only sounds were the car engine, the rain, and the wind. Having lived in the big city of Phoenix my entire life, I had never been in a place where it was truly quiet. I loved it. It was so quiet that I could hear the rain pattering on the tree leaves, and hear the branches rustling in the strong wind, which also whooshed across the roof of the car. I could practically feel the land extending infinitely, feel the trees, majestic and ancient. And – without the sounds present in the city – I felt like I was a part of it. It was incredible. A kind of peace came over me, and I realized that I had found something about Forks that I liked.

We pulled up to Charlie's small house on the edge of the forest. "Well, here we are," Charlie said. He helped me out of the car, and led me up a short flight of stairs to my new room. He stopped there, and cleared his throat awkwardly. "Welcome home, Bella," he muttered, and left me to unpack. A few seconds later, I heard him turn on the TV downstairs.

First, I explored my room with my hands, taking in the feel of the bedposts, and learning where everything was. The room was small and square, with a desk with a computer on it in one corner, and a bookshelf in another. An antique rocking chair was next to the window. The wood was smooth. They back of the chair was engraved with a spiral pattern, and the arms of the chair were curved and graceful. I felt the curtains at the window. They were lace, old and stiff. I traced the patterns carefully with my fingers. A flower pattern. The bed was up against the wall, and the dresser was beside it.

Then I started to unpack my belongings. I put my clothes in the dresser, and placed my books on audio and CDs on the shelf in the same order they had been in at my house in Phoenix, so I would still know where everything was. My small CD player went on top of the dresser.

After I did all of that, I just sat, and listened. The rain continued to pour down, and I liked the sound of it on the roof. The wind was loud – whistling, screaming, and whooshing around the house, and I knew that it would keep me up at night. Underneath those sounds, were the much softer sounds of the forest. Leaves rustled, birds sought shelter. I even heard the quiet footsteps of a larger animal wandering through the woods. I strained my ears to hear it, and tuned out the other sounds. The footsteps were firm yet delicate, like the feet making them were hard, but the animal was a light stepper. I listened even more closely. I heard the sound of dead leaves breaking beneath the feet, as if they were hooves. It wasn't like the sound of paws. I smiled slightly, enjoying the experience, and guessed that it was a deer.

"OH, COME ON!" Charlie shouted out of the blue, yelling at the players in whatever game he was watching. The sudden, loud sound scared me, and broke my concentration. I lost the sound of the deer's soft footfalls in the sound of the wind. I sighed, disappointed. But Charlie's outburst had broken his concentration on the game, and he remembered me. "Hey, Bells," he called, "I ordered pizza for dinner. That sound okay to you?"

I sighed again, still sad over loosing the deer's footsteps. "Yeah," I called back. "That sounds fine." I ran my fingers through my hair to see if I needed to brush it. I did, so I picked my brush up from where I had set it on the dresser. As I brushed the tangles out of my long hair, I recalled Charlie's words. Welcome home. I smiled, a little sadly. I liked a few things about Forks, but it definitely wasn't home yet. I was afraid that it would never feel like home. I finished brushing my hair, and carefully walked down the stairs, toward the sound of the television, where I knew Charlie was. I pushed the thoughts out of my mind. It doesn't matter if this isn't like home to you, I told myself. You came here to make Renee happy.

I sat down beside Charlie as we waited for the pizza to arrive. Charlie patted my shoulder when I sat. I smiled, a little more naturally. He clearly loved me, and wanted to make me happy here. Maybe it won't be so hard to live here, I thought. Maybe.