I didn't know how hard it was to say goodbye to somewhere you loved. This was the first time that I'd had to, but in a way, I was glad. I was leaving behind bad memories and the ghosts of people I would never forget, and moving to a fresh place where I didn't know any of those ghosts and the only memories were good.

Lewiston, Idaho held almost no interest to me. It just sounded like any other town, with regular people and an average school.

The house we moved into was directly next door to a hundred acres of farming land. It had a big shed which contained a ride-on lawnmower, a trailer and a pristine golf cart. That was probably why they owned a hundred acres.

Our house was a small, one story cottage. It had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and the kitchen, living room and dining area were all joined. There was no laundry, but apparently none of the houses in this area had one. Our only option was to go to the coin-operated laundromat in town, which was a good ten minutes away when driving.

I had never been this isolated in my life.

The good thing was that Charlie bought me a second-hand car, so that I could go and do the laundry without bugging him for the keys to the cruiser. Also, the school was at least twenty minutes away from us, on the other side of town. Great.

The first thing I did was set up my CD player. I was told that I had a very talented soprano voice, and I could sing opera very well. At least I can scream out for help if I get stuck in the middle of nowhere, which I pretty much was.

I put in my favourite CD, the Phantom of the Opera, and started to play my favourite song, which I was told I could sing very well. 'Wishing you were somehow here again' was also Jasper and I's song, the one we'd play whenever we felt silly, sad, or happy. Jasper, on the other hand, didn't have a very talented soprano voice and sounded more like a stuck pig. But he was very talented at armpit farting, a talent which I greatly desired.

The song started up and I cleared my throat, ready to sing.

You were once my one companion,

You were all that mattered.

You were once a friend and father,

Then my world was shattered.

Wishing you were somehow here again,

Wishing you were somehow near.

Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed,

Somehow you would be here.

Wishing I could hear your voice again,

Knowing that I never would.

Dreaming of you won't help me to do,

All that you dreamed I could!

Passing bells and sculpted angels,

Cold and monumental.

Seem, for you, the wrong companions,

You were warm and gentle.

Too many years fighting back tears,

Why can't the past just die!

Wishing you were somehow here again,

Knowing we must say goodbye!

Try to forgive, teach me to live!

Give me the strength to try!

No more memories, no more silent tears!

No more gazing across the wasted years!

Help me say goodbye

Help me say goodbye...

By the end of the song, I saw that someone had come out from the house next door to listen. I didn't get a look at their face, because they were gone before I could focus on them.

I went downstairs where Charlie was on the phone with the Police Station he was transferred to, getting directions to it. I figured I'd drive around with him and buy some groceries while we were in town.

"Alright Bells. He said that when you get past the town sign, you take a left, then you go straight until you find the Police Station sign sticking out from the side of the road. Let's go find it."

I walked outside and almost ran head on to our neighbour. She was a fakely blonde woman, mid to late thirties, obviously in a second marriage.

"Hi, you must be the Swans. My step-son heard you were coming and he just couldn't wait to meet you. Unfortunately, he's a bit busy right now, but I'm sure you'll meet him at school tomorrow, honey. He's seventeen, so he might be in some of your classes."

I nodded absently, not really listening to what she was saying.

"Thanks for that. It's good to meet some neighbours. The only person I've talked to in this place is the Seargent Brandon. He seems like a nice guy, and I think he's got a daughter Bella's age. Marianne or something?"

The blonde woman's lips soured, then went back to the forced smile. "Her names Mary Alice, but no-one calls her that. She prefers Alice."

"Just like Bella prefers to be called Bella instead of Isabella." I flushed scarlet. It was embarrassing having your father talk about you when you were standing right there.

"My daughter Rosalie also prefers to be called Rose instead of Rosalie."

"What about your step-son?"

She looked a little wistful. "Oh, he doesn't say much. He's not very sociable, he spends most nights just sitting in his room. but he's an excellent singer songwriter. He's written millions of songs for a girl he loved back in his hometown. I just hope he sees her again, because it breaks my heart to see him do nothing but sing about her."

I began to feel sorry for her step-son, even though he was a total stranger and I knew nothing else about him.

Charlie looked at his watch.

"We'd better get going Bells, if we want to get to town on time. I'll see you around...er..."

"Jen."

"I'll see you around Jen. Come on Bells."

I turned and we got in my car. As I drove away, in my rearview mirror I saw Jen's step-son run out to where she was standing.