Bluebella's mother, idk Mom Asparagus i guess, drove her to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was 75 degrees in Phoenix, just the perfect weather for a fashionable blueberry who did not like to sweat but also hated cold and wet things, and the sky was a perfect, cloudless blue. She was wearing one of her many favorite shirts: it was sleeveless, which wasn't of note because almost all shirts were sleeveless since most vegetables didn't have limbs, and had white eyelet lace. she was wearing it as a farewell gesture. her carry on item was a parka.

Per the Wikipedia article: "Forks, also previously known as the unincorporated town of Quillayute, is a city in southwest Clallam County, Washington, United States. The population was 3,335 at the 2020 census.[4] It is named after the forks in the nearby Bogachiel, Calawah, and Sol Duc rivers which join together to form the Quillayute River.

For many years, the city's economy was fueled by the local timber industry. More recently it has drawn tourism related to the novel series Twilight and films of the same name, set in Forks. With recent declines in the timber industry, Forks has relied on the nearby Clallam Bay Corrections Center and Olympic Corrections Center as sources of jobs. Forks is a popular destination for sport fishers who fish for salmon and steelhead trout in nearby rivers. It is also supported by visitors to Olympic National Park." It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the
United States of America.

It was from this gloomy, unfashionable town that her mother, Mom Asparagus, escaped with her when she was just a baby blueberry, born inexplicably french but she was definitely born in Forks, Washington. Specifically the Paris district. they just never talk about that in the books. It was also in this town that she had been forced to spend every month every summer there until she turned fourteen, where if she had a foot, she would have put it down. These past few summers, her dad, Bartlebey, vacationed with her in California for two weeks instead.

It was to Forks that she now exiled herself, an action she took with great horror. She detested forks, as produce would be leery of silverware, but also of Forks the city.

She loved Phoenix, however, which was known for its 75 degree days, with cloudless skies. Sometimes it would even be snowing and raining at the same time, and she would see some preps, and she'd stick her invisible middle finger up at them, but that's a story for another time.

"Bluebella," Mom Asparagus said to Bluebella, the last of a thousand times, before I got on the plane, "You don't have to do this."

Mom Asparagus looked identical to Bluebella, except Bluebella was a middle-aged blueberry, and Mom Asparagus was, well, an asparagus. Bluebella felt a spasm of panic looking into her mother's Asparagus eyes, wide and childlike and unblinking, early 90's CGI animation. How could she leave her loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? She could be kidnapped! To an island! or in a lake! Murdered maybe! But who would do such a thing? Certainly nobody. In fact, her mother was safe, and she seemed to be worrying about potentially horrifying alternate universes again.

Besides, she had Phil Winklestein! He was an actor from Toledo, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be gas in the refrigerator, food in the car... someone to call when she got lost... but still, Bluebella worried.

"I want to go," Bluebella lied, holding up all the airline passengers who were beginning to contemplate veggicide. Bluebella had always been a bad liar, in the sense she wasn't convincing, but she was quite experienced in telling lies, as she did it constantly, until it almost sounded sincere and not sarcastic.

"Tell Bartlebey I said 'hi'."

"I will," Bluebella lied again, for literally no reason.

"I'll see you soon," Mom Asparagus also lied, because it ran in the family. also because her unblinking 90's CGI eyes also shimmered with sacrifice, so Bluebella knew it was a lie from the heart.

"Don't worry about me, Maman," Bluebella said, addressing her mother by her first name. "It'll be great. I love you."

"Okay, well, watch out for Vampires."

"What?" Bluebella asked, sure she had misheard her mother's warning.

The carrot flight steward came up behind her and snapped, "Would you please get seated?"

Bluebella hugged her mother, and then reluctantly took a seat. The plane took off, and her mother was gone, because Bluebella had no object permanence and unfortunately didn't realize how distance worked.

It was a four hour plane ride to Seattle, then another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying didn't bother Bluebella, but the hour in the car with Bartlebey worried her.

Bartlebey was fairly nice about the whole ordeal, considering that Bluebella was interrupting his bartling and butlering for the local police station, but he seemed genuinely pleased that she was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. There was also his boyfriend, Charlie Pincher, but the narrator finds this would be confusing with the name Charlie, so he was presently on a mysterious vacation, and will not be mentioned again.

But it was sure to be awkward with Bartlebey. He was verbose, and Bluebella was from the french district, and they were just too different. Bluebella knew he was a little more than confused about the decision to move back to Forks, as like mother like daughter, Bluebella had made sure everyone knew how much she fucking hated forks.

When she landed in Port Angeles it was raining, which was very ew, but Bluebella had already held a funeral for the sun and gone through every stage of grief. It was not an omen, or perhaps it was and we just have yet to know that, but it was unavoidable without a new umbrella.

Bartlebey was waiting for Bluebella with the cruiser. This was unexpected. Why did a butler drive a police car? Did he lift it? Did they just let him do that? actually, why did a police station have a butler that vaguely resembled Tim Curry if he was maybe a tomato?

This is also why Bluebella wanted a car for herself. Nothing slowed down traffic like a police cruiser, and she wanted to drag race. This is also not mentioned in the books, but it's true. S. Meyer told me herself: it was bella's secret dream before the vampirism thing (sorry spoilers).

Bartlebey gave Bluebella an awkward, possibly armed hug (nobody was quite sure whether Bartlebey had limbs or not), when Bluebella stumbled off the plane.

"It's good to see you, Blues," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me, "You haven't changed much. How's Mom Asparagus?"

"Maman's fine. It is good to see you too, Fatherbey." Bluebella was not allowed to call him Bartlebey to his face, as it was disrespectful or something, and honor thy father and mother i guess, since these vegetables are Christian i guess. Bluebella had only a few bags, and she had shipped most of her wardrobe ahead of time in several dozen boxes, as she would not be seen in the same outfit too many times in the same season.

"I found a good car for you," he said kinda out of nowhere, when they were strapped into the car and already moving, so Bluebella couldn't escape her Bartledad.

"What kind of car?" Bluebella asked, suspicious that he said 'good for you' car and not 'good car'.

"Well, it's a truck, really. A chevy. You can drove it to The Levee, but The Levee is dry."

There was Bluebella's father, always listening to the gossip from the good old boys drinking whiskey and rye. She was so embarrassed. This will be the day that I die... she thought, mortified.

"Do you remember Coolhil?" He asked.

"Huh?" Bluebella looked over in surprise.

"Caterpillar. He's half worm, half -"

"Oh, Kahlil!" Bluebella exclaimed, surprised.

"He changed his name to Coolhil, don't you remember?"

Bluebella did not remember. She did a good job with blocking out painful and unnecessary memories like badfics.

"Well, anyway, he bought it, but it was bigger than the advertisement photo, so he can't reach the peddles. He offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?"

Bartlebey turned to look at her. "You know, the author's never been really clear on if it's 2006 or 20-"

"The car," Bluebella emphasized, hoping this wouldn't turn into an Abbott and Costello "who's on first" bit.

"Well, it's only a few years old. He bought it used already, so... you know, maybe... 60's... late 50's at most."

Vintage cars were so hot and designer, but not so much for a teenaged middle-aged blueberry in 20**.

"Bartledad, I do not know anything about cars! I would not be able to - well, I could afford a mechanic, and I could learn, but I do not wish to get my invisible hands dirty with oil."

"You see, the thing is, I already kind of... bought it for you?" He looked over with a bartleleaguered but hopeful expression. "As a homecoming gift."

Wow! Free! Well, sulky teenager or not, Bluebella had already learned quite the lesson about being grateful for what you have in another life. "Thank you, Bartledad! That is very nice of you. But you didn't need to do that, I was going to buy my own car," she lied.

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here," He was looking ahead at the road when he said this, because if you don't look at the road when driving, you're statistically almost 100% more likely to crash your car. She inherited that Driving Fun Fact from him.

They exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for Conversation. The two stared out the windows in silence, hopefully with Bartlebey continuing to watch the road.

It was beautiful, of course; Bluebella couldn't deny that. Everything was green, the trees, the trunks, their leaves, and now they're covered in the colors, she don't know what that means.

Eventually they made it to Bartlebey's home. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with Mom Asparagus in the early days of marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had — the early ones, before they even technically got married. actually, they were engaged until someone who I previously said would remain unmentioned showed up at the bachelor party, but once again, that's a story for another time.

There, parked on the street, was the new old truck. To Bluebella's intense surprise (which was paired with the spasming panic from earlier in her list of symptoms to mention to the doctor when she found one), she loved it. It was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged — the kind you see at the scene of an accident, unscathed, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed, the lives it had ruined, laughing villainously over the wreckage savagely, just like her.

"Wow, Fatherbey, I love it!" Bluebella said sincerely, but it sounded sarcastic, which couldn't be helped. Now my horrific day tomorrow will be slightly less dreadful! She added in her head; because saying that out loud would certainly harm the sincerity.

It took only several trips to take my luggage and the preshipped boxes upstairs. The room was familiar, because she had seen it before. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the other things a room usually had. Bartlebey had even added a bed at one point to replace the crib, which was pretty cool of him.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which Bluebella would have to share with Bartlebey.

Bluebella was trying not to dwell too much on that fact, for some reason, because sharing bathrooms is pretty uncommon, and also, why did vegetables - oh, never mind.

Bluebella wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag. She would save that for bedtime, when she would have to think about the coming morning. A common nighttime ritual for all of us, which made her very relatable.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven — now fifty-eight —
students; there were more than seven hundred people in Bluebella's junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together. It was like Baby Muppets, kind of.
Bluebella would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.

Maybe, if Bluebella looked like a girl from Phoenix should, she could work this to her advantage. But physically, she'd never fit in anywhere. She should be tan, sporty, blond — a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps — all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, Bluebella was blue-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant
sunshine. She had always been round, but soft somehow, obviously not an athlete; she didn't have the
necessary hand-eye coordination (or hands) to play sports without humiliating herself— and harming both herself
and anyone else who stood too close. Plus, she cussed like a sailor, so it also emotionally harmed the people around her.

So, to save us time and potential plagiarism, Bluebella went to sleep and woke up and headed to school. And nothing of interest besides a few introductions happened until lunch.

Bluebella was sitting with an excitable rhubarb named Jezebel - but she went by Petunia, now. On her other side was a zucchini named Nezzer, who looked far too old for high school, 37 at the least, but she also looked old for age, and would never judge for that.

It was there, trying to make conversation with these two already BFFs, that Bluebella saw them. In the corner of the cafeteria, in the table furthest from Bluebella's own, she used her very good eyesight to focus on the five goff hotties. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched foot in front of them. They weren't gawking at Bluebella, unlike all the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of being called a hypocrite.

Of the three boys, one was big, muscled like a weight lifter - an orange gourd who looked like he really wished he could eat the food in front of him. Another was taller, leaner, a scallion with possibly no name to call himself, or maybe nobody cared to give him one. The last of the group was a short, round tomato, about her own height.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. Unsure what type of vegetable she was, Bluebella knew this: her hair looked expensive. The shorter girl was a brunette onion with arms and legs, which was very unnerving. Something about her screamed familiar to Bluebella, almost as if she had known her in another life, perhaps as an intern.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than Bluebella, even, who came from "It's Always Sunny in" Phoenix. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were homoerotic, perfect, sexy. Bluebella stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy. Bluebella was a bi icon like that.

"Who are they?" Bluebella asked Petunia, whose name Bluebella had already forgotten because she did not care.

she glanced up. "Oh, that's the Heathers. You don't want to get involved with them."

"What? No, them." Bluebella said again, pointing pointlessly with her invisible finger.

"Ah! Regina George? She's -"

"The pale veggies, on the other side of the lunchroom!" Bluebella sighed with frustration. If only her accent wasn't so thick. If only her fingers weren't so invisible. Alas. That was the struggle of being literally perfect.

"The... the goths?"

"Yeah. Them."

Petunia offered a faint smile, looking to Nezzer with concern, before saying, "Well, the tomato is Bobward Cullen. And that gourd is his brother, Jimmet Cullen. The one with the expensive hair is Esther Rose Hale, and the short onion with the limbs is Kendralice Cullen."

"And the one who looks like he's in pain all the time is Juno," Nezzer added with a smirk. "It's not his real name, but nobody knows what it is, just that it starts with a J, so... Juno stuck."

"They all live with the town's only doctor-slash-vet, Larrisle, and his wife," she added the last part somewhat bitterly, "Achesme."

"Bless you," Bluebella said, as the goth kids suddenly and unrelatedly let out shouts of pain as if they had burned their invisible fingers on their lunch. She ignored this because it wasn't about her. "Which one is the tomato?". She peeked at him curiously, and he was still staring at her, but not gawking like the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression.

"That's Bobward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently, none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour rhubarb. At first, Bluebella wondered if he had turned her down. Then, she realized, no, it was just because he was a tomato. She understood. Until today, she had never met a tomato she could see herself talking to, but now? Now she might consider it.

Bluebella smiled in his direction, and only briefly, she saw the corner of his lips twitch into a smile, before it disappeared into a frown again.

She only hoped all of her future interactions with him would be more pleasant, if future interactions ever came from this. She hoped so. This was a very long first chapter of her first real day in Forks.