Chapter 1: First Sight

Is Stephanie Meyer insane? Mental even? I don't know what she was thinking when she wrote the books, but I doubt she'd ever been to Forks in person. Only twenty minutes had passed since I left the airport and I was already dying to get rid of this turtleneck I'd thought I'd need. Even though it was foolish to set too much in store via the books, the last thing she could do was get the weather right. Where was the rain? Where were the clouds? Where I ask!

I grumbled to myself like this as I pulled my luggage out of the trunk. I set it on the side of the road and returned to pay the driver.
"Thanks love," she said as I gave her the money, "good luck." She then drove off.
"For what?" I asked at the road the taxi had just occupied. Then I continued to grumble and made my way up the path.

I dumped the suitcases on the porch and rummaged in my breast pocket for the keys. A habit I had maintained from high school. Phone and keys in there, wallet in right jeans pocket, whatever else I had, wherever else I had. I finally found them and inserted the key in the lock. It gave a satisfying click, and then the door opened.

The first thing that hit me was the overpowering scent of lilac. Ew. I'd thought I was rid of that nauseating fragrance. It was an overdose of air freshener, but it made the house smell like a dead flower field. The last occupant of home, probably. After my nose burn reduced, I noticed that there was no alarm system. Figures, I hadn't really expected one. The next thing I noticed, was that whoever designed this house was an outright idiot.

Outside, it seemed innocent enough. Custard yellow bricks with green windows sills and door, oddly, it matched. Through the window you could see beige curtains. They didn't match. A little green bird house shaped letterbox stood next to the driveway, with the number '7' painted in gold. It was nice though, cosy looking. Maybe change the curtains, but still better than I expected for the small price.

Inside, however, the walls were maroon. The wooden floor was covered in green carpet, on which was a tiny coffee table encircled by an orange sofa and two pink chairs. Two purple doors led from the room. I stared at the room, and literally dropped my keys. This architect needed a lesson on colour co-ordination.

I inwardly thanked myself that I didn't pay for the furniture, and continued to explore. The first door led to a kitchen. Good, at least they got the rooms' right, or some of them, anyway. It already had a fridge, a microwave and a dishwasher (three things that hadn't crossed my mind). That was a plus. The minus was that the dining room –or more adequately named, dining area) had been crammed with a table far too big for one small person like me. Stupid owners must have had a lot of family.

The bathroom was clean. Had a bathtub with a shower head and a sink too close to a toilet (who keeps a toilet in the bathroom anyway?) for my liking, but I'd live with that. It could have been worse.

I saw worse in the next room. I gasped upon seeing the first. There were three bunk beds jammed into the space. How many kids did these guys have? I knew I had to move them, and it looked like heavy work. I quickly escaped to the laundry, where I found another sink, a washer, a dryer (damn. Now I'd have to learn how to use that too) and... not surprisingly... a forgotten pair of underwear.

The last bedroom was, to my relief, the largest room. There was a cupboard, large enough for my measly set of clothes and a queen sized bed, covered in red bed sheets. Three paintings hung on the wall, of red flowers in vases. I took one look at the bed sheets, then ripped them off and threw them –along with the pillow cases- in the nearest bin. I would not be sleeping the same place where six children may have been... enough said.

After that, I collapsed on the living room sofa. The place needed a little work, but it was a good first home. More than enough space for one girl let alone six kids and two adults from the look of it. I then emptied my suitcases and put away my stuff. Clothes go here, toiletries there, daily items here, utensils there. I realised with a pang that I had only packed a single sized bed mattress. I decided, then and there, to make a shopping list.

Months of planning aided me once again. After I made he list –adding something strong enough to ward off the smell that made me gag- I ran to the garage to see my new car, already parked by someone who had come before I did. It wasn't anything big, and I just flattered myself by knowing the difference between a Mitsubishi and a Holden, which probably wasn't even popular here. Anything beyond that, you'd need my best friend/engineer and... Oops. Wrong track.

It was too late. I'd finally let a memory break through to the surface. I pushed back the mental image of him, with brownie-orange hair framing his narrow pale face, smirking and talking or just being the immature fool he was. I shook my head. There went the buzz to ride my new car. Oh well. I hopped in and put the keys in the ignition, and then I pressed the button with an arrow curving over the car from the boot. There was a mechanical whir, and the roof above me slowly retreated to the back. I laughed, turned the radio on to whatever sounded good, and was on my way.