Matthew Webb despised airport terminals.

He personally ranked them between school and hell in terms of places he tried to avoid. It was everything about them- the smell would be the main thing. The smell that crossed continents and lingered for hours after leaving. The smell of staleness. The stale clothes, spilt food and drink, the smell you get after being cooped up in a claustrophobic little tin can for hours.

Matthew shuddered and tried not to remember the Cucumber Incident on flight 97.

He paused to look up at the doors again, shielding his eyes from the intense American sun. The airport terminal was mostly glass and metal bannisters, giving an impression of light and air. There were a few posters of various airport staff, all with painfully wide smiles, standing around shiny aircraft. A few tourists were scattered about- it was early morning in America, but midday on Matthews's internal English clock.

He really hadn't known what to expect from America, and in truth he still didn't. The sky still looked mostly the same from the plane, just a high definition brighter version. The people were friendlier- Matthew gathered that Americans were extrovertly friendly, compared to the British introvert style friendly.

Oh, and rubber meant something very different in America, Matthew thought as he cringed back to the gift shop incident.

But he was a Stranger in a Strange Land (he wasn't actually reading the book but thought the reference would have been much greater if he had) and he was going to be some sort of permanent tourist. He was just waiting for his Uncle Charlie to get here. He had only vague memories of Charlie and his daughter, what was her name, Belle? No that was the beauty and the beast. Matthew shrugged internally. He had either memorize it quickly or ask her to wear a name badge.

Charlie was his Mums brother. His mum had been American, but had gone to Britain to live with his dad. She had died giving birth to him- his memories of her were even vaguer than his memories of Charlie. It didn't constantly depress Matthew because it wasn't like he'd known her too long. It was more like he felt a lingering sadness, every time he thought about what could have been.

He shouldn't be getting Emo in the middle of the airports Dunkin Donuts. He should be… well he didn't know what he should be doing, but it felt like he should've been doing more than thinking for so long his coffee had gone cold and he had been staring at the same half a donut on the floor for fifteen minutes. But it was the mystery of the half donut- why was it there? Who dropped it? What story do you have to tell me, silent donut?

Matthew gave the airport a once-over for the, oh, only the sixty seventh time. He felt uncomfortably like the centre of attention- two staff members had already stopped and asked if he needed help finding his parents. Matthew supposed he was seventeen going on seven. Matthew had blushed and stammered out a no. Or maybe it was a nope. But a nope sounded too casual what if they thought he had been taking the piss-

"Er, hello Matt." Matthew jumped and spilt cold coffee over himself. He felt his cheeks grow warm and panicked, and awkwardly collided with the man behind him as they both scrambled for napkins.

The man –oh god he's a police man, please don't let him ask me if I need help finding my parents, or shoot me or anything Matthew rambled internally, while grabbing about eight napkins at once and unceremoniously dumping them in the spilt coffee.

He then looked back up at the police officer. "Um-I, er-" Matthew began and mentally kicked himself. "Er, Charlie?" He said and blushed, and busied himself by sweeping the napkins around a little.

"Hello Matt." Charlie said gruffly. He seemed less affected by Matthews complete failure of an introduction than Matthew himself was. They quickly walked out of the donut place, Matthew feeling guilty over the venomous looks one of the staff sent him as she crouched over the spilt coffee.

They walked in awkward silence for a while- Matthew had no idea what to say next. So, how is my cousin who I haven't seen since I was four? How're you doing Charlie? Watch that last episode of Doctor Who? How many penguins does it take to change a lightbulb?

They were all terrible conversation starters. Especially because he couldn't remember the penguin joke punchline.

"I'm sorry about your dad Matt." Charlie said softly, with more kindness than Matthew had been expecting. It felt like Matthew had been punched in the stomach- he was just trying to forget.

"Thanks." Matthew said, because he had no idea what to say or do.

Charlie smiled at him and quickly changed topic. "I took the truck down- from a friend of mine. Borrowed it from Bella, just for today." Bella owned a vehicle? Matthew was used to using stagecoach buses to get everywhere. Or walking in the rain which was not nearly as much fun as singing in the rain.

Speaking of rain, Forks was (according to Charlie on one hurried phone call in the mid-Atlantic) a place where the rain never stops. True to his words, when they stepped outside the rain was falling thick and fast. Matthew smiled- he had always liked the rain. It was oddly comforting to know the weather had followed him.

Bella's truck was a Chevy (again according to Charlie when it came to cars Matthew knew even less than Jon Snow) and bore the signs of previous owners. But it looked like a loved little car –er, truck- and Matthew liked it. If it had been on a Disney film it would have been the lovable clumsy talking car sidekick. Hang on, there actually was a rusted red truck in one of the Cars films. Conspiracy? Matthew thought so.

Climbing into the passenger seat, but only on his second go as he had originally got in on the wrong side.

"Thanks for taking me in Charlie. Er, can I call you Charlie?" Matthew said as Charlie pulled out of the car park- parking lot? There was an American word for it. Nope, he couldn't remember.

"Course."

Matthew yawned wildly, feeling jetlag catching up. It was morning ish, but he hadn't slept at all on the plane, or much back in England. He lay his head on the window and thought about sleep. Which was probably the worst strategy for sleep. He had his first proper look at Forks through the window- Liverpool, where Matt had lived with his dad, was a city of grey- England was very grey. Grey concrete, grey sky, Earl Grey tea and most people had a grey tinge to their skin from lack of sunlight. Forks, on the other hand, was a green and clean sort of place. Green grass, green moss and ferns. Matthew thought it was beautiful, even if the founders of Forks had failed by not calling it the Emerald City.

He sneaked another look at Charlie, who looked tired and in need of a coffee. Matthew felt suddenly grateful to him- how mental was Charlie, taking in another teenager from another continent and getting Matthew enrolled in school and a million other things? But he must be so kind to do it.

He didn't feel completely comfortable around Charlie, but nor did he feel completely awkward. It was a start. He wanted to get to know his uncle and cousin more. Family, unlike regular people, could not hit you over the head and call you a wankerweasel (which sadly had happened to Matthew on more than one occasion throughout high school). It wouldn't be polite.

Matthew rested his head on the cool window and tried to close his eyes- but out of the corner of his eye, just for a second, he could've sworn there was some sort of sparkle or something. Probably just the sun reflecting off a satellite disk. Matthew rested his head on the window and eventually fell asleep, his breathing blending in with the rumble of the truck engine.

This was just an intro chapter. I'm trying to think of something really clever to put here but my eyes hurt and if you stopped to read this pointless bold bit you are my new hero.