Over the plane's intercom, I heard a voice saying that we will be landing in Seattle in less than fifteen minutes, but I was too engrossed with my thoughts to be aware of what was going on around me.
What was it my mother was talking about that seems to be so important? I thought to myself. I doubted that it was anything good. And it must be a big secret since Joyce hadn't wanted to tell me if I didn't move to live with her in Forks, permanently.
I wonder if she'll finally tell me what all this commotion is about. If she doesn't tell me, then… I trailed off, looking out the plane's little circular window overlooking the green forests and dull grey skies. It was raining – it was the norm in this town my mother once said. Then…I don't know what I'll do.
And what about my new school? What would it be like having rules and classmates? Will they be friendly or will they just exclude me from their social circle? What if they recognize me? How will they react? And the biggest question that was circling in my mind was: are the paparazzi, fans, stalkers and tabloids going to follow me here? To my new, small town of Forks? Will I ever be able to live life like a normal teen?
All of these questions made my head dizzy and I started to hyperventilate. Breathe, just BREATHE Briella! I ordered myself to inhale and exhale like I did when I was in yoga and Pilates to straighten myself out.
Briella was going to be my new nickname in Forks since most people in Phoenix called my "Gabby" a lot. I wanted to leave my old life behind and move onto my new one. Plus, Briella sounded more mature and sophisticated than "Gabby" did.
Once the plane landed in Seattle and when I got out of the airport with an over-sized pair of sunglasses for my disguise, I spotted Joyce coming towards me from the parking lot.
Me and my mom looked very similar that we could've pulled it off as sisters. I received most of my traits from my mom: the model figure, the pale and creamy skin tone, full lips, and every other feature except the colour of my eyes and hair – a shocking and rare colour of brown – which I inherited from Chad.
As Joyce strolled towards me, a couple of men hooted from across the street. I groaned mentally in response. Perverts, ugh.
"Hi Joyce!" I said as brightly as I could.
"Hi Gabriella. I bet your dad told you the same thing that I am going to say: call me mom." She was smiling now, showing all of her perfect pearly-white teeth that, coincidentally, I also inherited from her.
I rolled my eyes and smiled. "Yes, that's what Chad said except he didn't want me to call him mom. And I won't call you 'mom' unless you call me by my new nickname – 'Briella'." I put extra emphasis into my nickname, not that I needed to. Joyce is mature enough to understand what I'm saying, even though sometimes, I talk incoherently and won't make much sense.
"Sure, sure Briella. We've got a deal from now on, then. I call you 'Briella' as long as you call me 'mom'. Deal or no deal?" She said, imitating the voice of the host of the "Deal or No Deal" TV show that we always watched when in Phoenix.
"Deal!" I grinned.
"Let's just get your luggage into my – I mean your – car." That little stumble in her words made me a bit more suspicious.
We walked over to a white BMW M3 Coupe E92 that I'd notice anywhere. It was my car back in Phoenix. How in the world did it get here?
"Mom, I'm confused. Why is my car from Phoenix doing here, in Forks?" I looked over to Joyce for an answer.
"Honey, your dad sent your car because he thought you might need a ride to school." She gave me sympathetic gaze.
"I really appreciate it but doesn't Chad realize that the paparazzi have my car model, colour and license plate memorized?" My voice rose up on another octave with panic and horror. From the way I was feeling at that moment, I felt like I could do an excellent thriller or horror movie. "Doesn't he realize that this particular car could ruin my chances of living a normal life here?"
"Yes, I agree with you. Your father can be insensitive at times and he never thinks everything through." Her voice wavered and then she coughed to cover it up. I examined her expression closely enough to see some leftover hurt and pain from their divorce. "I have an idea. What if we swap cars? Your shiny BMW for my battered and rusty blue Ford?" It seemed to me that she had to muster up a lot of strength to give me a tiny smirk.
"That would be a whole lot better than messing up my chances of being normal. I guess we have a deal. But how would you explain it to your co-workers at the hospital?"
Joyce's smirk became more pronounced. "I guess I could say that I got a raise or something. Maybe won it from a lottery and such. Come on, get in. I bet you're tired."
She was right. I was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. A girl can only handle so much, even if she were a superstar. I sighed, hopped in the passenger seat and rested my head against the surface of the cold car window.
When I was about to close my eyes, I heard my mother say, "Oh, and honey, the delivery men already dropped off your massive piano yesterday. As well as your other chunky instruments and junk."
"Mmm. Don't call my babies junk. They're special and they're mine." I mumbled, too far gone to give a better answer. My breathing became even and my heart rate slowed to a safer pace as I fell into a dreamless sleep.
- - -
"Briella, honey? We're home." Joyce said softly, but I knew she was trying to wake me up to see the house that would permanently give me shelter to sleep in and eat in and shower in and…well, it was my new home.
Slowly, with much effort, I opened my eyelids to take a peek at the exterior of the house. It was nice and quaint, sort of like an old-fashioned country home on the prairie. It had a nice wooden porch with a hammock, and a bright blue front door. The house was only two stories high, with brick exterior, and my bedroom is the room that overlooks the little ash fault driveway that can hold up to four cars, depending on their parking positions. We have a couple trees on our property, one near my only bedroom window and one in the backyard, and the rest of the trees are found in the dark forest only less than a block away. Overall, our street was lonely, which was good. No paparazzi could ever stalk me to a quiet street like this, and we only had one neighbour sharing our little street. Joyce once told me that our neighbour was a police officer in this town, just like Chad, but he was the chief of police of this tiny town and he lived a mere three blocks away from us.
I was utterly blank of any thoughts or words, until a new thought came into my head like an angry bull. Why has Joyce brought me here?
I cleared my throat and knotted my fingers in my lap. "Mom?" My voice was laced with the perfect amount of curiosity and confusion, and most of all, frustration.
"Yes?" Joyce asked hesitantly, instantly wary by the tone of my voice.
"Can you please tell me what's so important?"
"Important about what sweetie?" She was playing dumb, I just knew it.
"Why is it so important that I move to Forks permanently or else I can't see you anymore? Why is it so 'crucially important' in this stage of my life? And why did you say I had to choose so soon?" My voice trembled and I felt the familiar hot stinging sensation of tears coming to my eyes. Soon they would build up like a dam and then spill over, creating an ugly mess.
"Shh. Don't worry, my darling. What's so important would be really unbearably shocking for you right now that I suggest that you go inside while I explain." She fished out the house keys from her pocket and twirled them around her index finger. "Are you hungry? All the explanations you are waiting for are going to build quite an appetite for you." Joyce looked at me intently with her eyes the colour of emeralds, scanning me as though I had broken my nose. Then she nodded once and said, "Come on, let's go in."
I numbly picked up my luggage from the back, shut the BMW's car door, and hauled my stuff up the wooden porch steps. Turning around to look at my mom, I noticed that she making weird hand gestures and was murmuring something under her breath, so low I couldn't even hear a word. Was she crazy or delusional or mentally ill?
She's not, she's your mother, I thought calmly. If that's what she does to welcome people into her home, nonetheless her own child, I would deal with it somehow. Anyway, she's as normal as anyone these days, unlike me which always seems to have a big neon sign above my head saying "Gabriella Anna Fox is right here! Come and get her!".
Finally, Joyce unlocked the door and flicked on the lights with one flip of her hand. The first thing I saw was our black cat, Salem, sitting calmly at the top of the carpeted stairs, as if she knew I was coming. My arm was covered in gooseflesh as the hairs on the back of my neck started to rise. Something is…off here, I thought warily.
Then I saw the interior of the house. It was as though a really famous interior designer came here to bring their ideas to life, mixing in traditional, contemporary and modern in all sorts of coordinating ways. The kitchen was right to my right, and I got a glimpse of shiny new stainless steel appliances like fridges that can produce ice cubes with a touch of a button, or a dishwasher that can run twenty different cycles, oven tops, double ovens, built-in microwaves and so on. Where in the world did Joyce get all this new stuff from? Last time I'd been here, the house looked so ordinary and normal, like an average person with an average salary. Now, well, it looked like a celebrity's house. Ironically enough, I was a 'celebrity' and wanted nothing but a normal life, which includes a normal kitchen. Everything looked so shiny and pristine that I feared I would break it by being the clumsy and un-coordinated girl I am.
"Um, mom?" I asked frantically, wondering if I were secretly being taped on a reality television show that would be shown across the country, if not, the world.
Joyce looked at me steadily and said, "Briella, I think you should really sit somewhere before I explain, well, everything." I hoped that "everything" included telling me why and how she had gotten all these new renovations.
I took a couple cautious steps into the front foyer, which had supremely high ceilings for this kind of house and a shiny, and of course, new crystal chandelier. I looked past the white marble kitchen eat-in island to see our new living room. Gosh, it was so different than what I was used to seeing here.
The living room had a couch with clean modern lines and a sort of ivory to beige looking colour, depending on the way the sun shone on it, and on top of the couch, there were about two graphic cushions on the ends. The windows were also upgraded to very large windows that start at approximately the ceiling down to about where the floor is. They made the living room sort of look like a modern-day castle, but of course, I never wanted to live in a castle; it would only attract more attention.
Even slower than before, I parked my bags on the foot of the stairs and crept over the new rich mahogany wood floors to sit lightly on the new couch. As you can probably see, I have some issues with new stuff and I have had that "issue" since I ever had "fame", so it really goes a long way back, maybe even before becoming disgustingly famous.
I looked around the room once more, trying to take in all of the new things. New mahogany hardwood flooring in the living room and new white marble tiles in the kitchen to match the countertops were a couple new things done here. There were also new shiny kitchen appliances, new soft couches, wooden tables, fireplace, armchairs, bar stools in the eat-in kitchen that seemed to be padded in…velvet?
Who in the world puts velvet on bar stools? Oh right, "celebrities", I thought wryly.
Finally, when I was done my skimming and scanning, I flickered my gaze towards my mom, who was in her, I mean, our new shiny kitchen fridge, getting out a pitcher of iced tea and some slices of watermelon. As Joyce turned around, I got a glimpse of her expression. She had her mouth in a tight line and her brow was furrowed, which usually meant that she was thinking hard about something or that she was really worried. And by the looks of this situation, it could be either one or both. But before I got a good look at her face, our eyes met and her expression turned into an embarrassed tiny smile.
She cleared her throat and then called, more like yelled, "Salem! Come down here right now! It is now time for the –" Joyce stopped in mid-sentence as Salem, our black little green-eyed cat came sprinting downstairs and jumped up on the couch to sit right beside me.
I was now ready to burst with confusion and frustration, as well as the tears that have accumulated while I was in the BMW. What is it time for? I wondered, thinking hard. My breathing sped up as well as my heart.
I opened my mouth, looked directly into my mother's eyes, and asked, "Mom? Can you just please just tell me what is going on? I'm already here in Forks, at home, and I am sitting down on the couch right now. There is no need to postpone this explanation any longer."
Joyce came out of the kitchen reluctantly, holding a silver tray of two glasses of what I presumed was iced tea and two plates of sliced fresh watermelons. She set them down on the chestnut brown coffee table in front of me. Then she sat in the matching brown upholstered armchair right across from me.
She held my gaze and slowly said, "Yes, you're right. I can't hold this out any longer." My mother looked down at the tray of snacks and back up to my confused face.
"I'll just say the most important thing first. You, Gabriella Anna Fox, are a witch."