"I wish I didn't have to do this," I said to Renee as we drove to the airport.
"I am so sick of hearing that! Give it a rest, Bella, for pete's sake."
"Sorry."
"You don't sound sorry."
"I have trouble with tone of voice."
"Is this about Asperger syndrome again? You know I hate it when you use that as an excuse."
"It's not an excuse. I'm just telling the truth."
"Yeah, sure. It's not even a real disorder."
"Yes, it is."
"We're not having this discussion again, okay?"
"You brought it up in the first place."
"Shut up and let me focus on the road. You're impossible. Jesus."

I did so for a while, as I was unsure of what to say. I felt stifled, unresolved. I diverted the frustration into my hair, twisting the short stuff in my fingers. It needed a wash.

"I really am sorry, though," I said.
"I said shut up!" Her shriek sent a shiver through me. I clasped my hands tightly in my lap, trying to squeeze out the shame.

Nothing could convince my mother to allow me to remain in Phoenix. She told me I would feel like a third wheel now that she was marrying her second husband, and besides, his sports career would require him to move around a lot. I would have to resign myself to change no matter what. I couldn't get rid of the suspicion that she and Phil didn't want me around because I wasn't normal and I would get in the way of their happiness. The truth was probably buried in their eyes somewhere.

In any case, now I was in the process of moving to the rainy town of Forks, where my father Charlie lived. It wasn't so bad in the summer, when I had routinely stayed there in the past, but now I would be there throughout the rest of the year as well. It wasn't the rain that bothered me so much as that it would be different.

Renee and I still weren't speaking when I was about to get on the plane. Her goodbye was terse and cold. These situations always resolved themselves rather quickly, and I had no doubt that our future email and phone exchanges would be amicable, but I wished I weren't leaving her at this kind of nadir.

Looking at her was like looking at an older version of myself. Her face had begun to show the signs of age, but everything else was the same: pale skin, brown eyes, dark hair with the same short haircut. Beyond that, however, we bore little resemblance. I tried not to be glad that our clashing personalities would be permanently distanced. I was supposed to miss her.

I stroked the seats during the flight, trying to distract myself from the pressure in my ears. They weren't as fuzzy as the ones in Renee's car. I might never see that car again, either. I'd never see the conspiracy theory bumper stickers or the Sharpie scribbles on the seat fabric that I had put there about a decade ago.

I worried about what Charlie and I would talk about on the drive from Port Angeles to Forks. Renee was the only person I conversed easily with, and even with her I often went on too long about a pet topic of mine or used the wrong speaking intensity, which annoyed her so much that I fell silent. It should be noted that I was not solely to blame. Charlie was a man of few words, and I was hardly one to initiate discussion.

Charlie silently helped me stuff my bags into the back of the police cruiser. He was the police chief of Forks, and the cruiser was his only vehicle. I didn't have much luggage because women's clothes wear out easily and I hate clothes shopping. I would have had even less if one bag hadn't been devoted to my collections of toothpaste caps and bread closers. I had wanted to bring my empty dental floss containers as well, but Renee had insisted that I throw them out instead.

After we had driven along for about half an hour in silence, I asked, "Am I supposed to say something?"
"No."
"So you want me to be quiet?"
"I don't care. Whatever floats your boat."
I looked out the window at the rain, watching it make diagonal rivulets on the glass. "Say, Dad, is the summer the dry season?"
"Yep."
"Does it rain the rest of the year?"
"Pretty much."
"When doesn't it rain?"
"When it snows."

When we arrived at Charlie's house, there was a faded red truck parked outside. "That's your new truck," he said.
"My new truck? You bought it for me?"
"Yep."
"Wow, thanks. You didn't need to do that. I was going to buy my own car." I didn't want to be driven to school in the cruiser because it would slow down traffic. I didn't want to make trouble for anyone.
"Too late now. So what do you think?"
I considered. "It looks like a truck."
"Sure does."

The interior of Charlie's house smelled like someone else's house, just as it always had. It was a vague mixture of cat supplies, dish detergent and unidentifiable miscellany. I supposed the effect would vanish after I had been there long enough. Renee's house was odorless.

I brought my stuff up to the bedroom that had historically been mine. The walls were blue, but the curtains weren't. I wondered which of them symbolized what. I unpacked everything right then and there so I wouldn't delay it indefinitely. The toothpaste caps and bread closers ended up on the desk, which also held a new second-hand computer so Renee and I could stay in touch. The collection items were no longer in chronological order; I tried to order the caps by the amount of dust on them, but it was futile.

Kleenex, Charlie's cat, was nowhere to be seen. She was afraid of strangers. Staying in her house every summer had done nothing to convince her that I was not a threat. Nonetheless, her hair was clearly visible on every object dark enough to reveal the white strands.

The first day of school started tomorrow. I worried a little that the other students would find out what I was and endeavor to make my life miserable as a result, but it would probably be all right. I was going into twelfth grade, well after the worst years. Those lay safely in the past in Phoenix. The real challenge was making friends. I hadn't had any back home; the few relationships I'd formed tended to fall apart like a house of cards. Renee would keep getting on my case about this, I knew. The mystery of my difficulties had vanished one day two years ago in Dr. Park's office, but Renee didn't believe it. Anyone could have those traits, she said. It was like ADHD. Just another way to pathologize normal behavior.