Chapter Text
Everything happened suddenly.
The crash was fast and brutal – both my parents and little brother died instantly. At least that’s what they told me. It was hard to believe they didn’t suffer after I had to identify their mutilated bodies the next day.
In the days following, I spent throwing together a funeral for three and identifying which of my only family’s belongings I wanted to keep and store versus what I wanted to sell. The social worker who was assigned to my case helped me contact my uncle, the closest thing I had left to family. Because I was only sixteen, I could either move in with him or be put into foster care. I was ridiculously lucky that he agreed to take me in.
The funeral was held at my mother’s church. I’m not a religious person, but the place was like a second home to me, and I couldn’t imagine burying my family anywhere else. Only once before had I attended a funeral for someone I actually knew – not just some old relative I couldn’t even name. The suicide of my close friend sophomore year had left me scarred and I had thought then that I’d never cry so hard and so much ever again, but I was wrong. Throughout the entire service and burial, I bobbed back and forth between hard sobs and silent heavy tears.
Fifteen days after the death of my family, I find myself boarding an airplane for the first time in my life. Its destination Seattle, Washington. Everything is squared away – the house sold, along with most of the furniture, the cars, and the impressive but intense collection of junk my parents had in their possession. The items I decided to keep were being held in a long-term storage unit. The things I chose to bring with me are photo albums, a few of the quilts my mother had made, and my own collection of junk that I had in my room. The bins of that would arrive at my new home after I will, so in my luggage I have my immediate essentials such as clothes, electronics, a few books, and a small case of my journal supplies.
My uncle’s name is Charlie. He is the Chief of Police in Forks, Washington. Due to the geographical location of our homes, plus with no big family get-togethers, I haven’t seen him since I was an infant. I vaguely remember my mom showing me a recent picture of him and his daughter, Bella, as part of the annual tradition of including a recent picture when sending the Christmas cards.
I sleep for most of the flight. After having spent the majority of the time crying, I’m currently cried out. And that’s a good thing. Before my scheduled departure, I was able to have one last day with my closest friends. I cried some, but only when I had to say goodbye. I didn’t want the remaining time I had left with them to be filled with sadness. I need happy memories to keep me going and distract me from the complete life change.
I’ve lived my entire life in Woodbridge, Virginia, and so I don’t know what it’s like to be the new kid. I imagine it’s going to be complete shit. Of course, that might just be my depression talking. Always imagining the worst outcome of a situation and expecting that to be the reality. If my prediction comes true, however, at least I’ll be prepared.
Charlie had told me he’d be waiting for me in his police uniform when I unboard the plane. True to his word, I find him standing alone once the rest of the passengers have cleared the area. He has dark curly hair and an awkward slash sympathetic smile peeking out from underneath his mustache.
“Melissa,” he says and holds his arms out for an embrace. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I fold into his arms and correct him on the pronunciation of my name. “Actually, it’s Melisa (mel-LEE-suh).”
“Oh, sorry,” he says as we pull away. “Mel-lee-suh. I’m sorry again about your family.”
“Thank you,” I say and I give him a sad smile.
After collecting my bags, we go to his cruiser, and begin the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Forks.
I don’t know if he’s just a silent person in general, or if I have an expression written on my face that says “please don’t talk to me, I’m grieving”, but he doesn’t try to make conversation. He turns on the radio and I plug in my earbuds, staring out the window at the passing scenery.
I find Washington to be beautiful. Despite it being late January, green is everywhere – on the trees, on the bark, the moss on the ground. The sunlight even filters greenly through the trees. Although it’s beautiful, being here felt strange and unfamiliar, like it was an alien planet. But I don’t linger too much on the strange and unfamiliar aspect – it reminded me too much of why I’m here in the first place.
Sometime towards the end of the trip, I fall asleep. Charlie nudges me awake when we arrive at the small, two-bedroom house I now get to call my home. My uncle bought it during the early – and only – days of his marriage to Bella’s mom, Renee. After they split, he kept the house, and Renee kept Bella. A month ago, I think, Bella moved in with her dad because her mom was travelling with her new husband.
He helps me carry my luggage inside and up the stairs to my room. The first call I made to Charlie was very short. It was just to inform him that my parents and little brother had passed in a car accident, and I needed someone to take me in. I didn’t want him to make a decision right away, but I still needed to know soon so that I could make the proper arrangements. He called me the next day to tell me he could take me in, then we discussed the living arrangements. He and Bella could switch rooms (because he had the master bath), and I could room with Bella. Or they could clear out what was essentially an extra-large closet that could fit a bed and a dresser, possibly a small desk if we got creative.
I opted for the later. I didn’t want to put him and Bella through so much trouble just for me. Plus, to be honest, I want my own private space. I don’t care how small it is. I know I can get creative. With some of the money I’ve gotten from selling just about everything of major value and no emotion attachment to, I had it in the budget to get what I need to make my room livable, and I want to possibly get a car. I have my driving license in Virginia and want to apply for a Washington one soon after I arrive.
In the room a bed is already squeezed in and made. Charlie puts my stuff on the hardwood floor, and I drop what I’m carrying on the bed.
“We haven’t found a dresser yet,” he says. “But we can go hunting for it this weekend. Along with whatever else you’ll need.”
“Thank you,” I say, and I say it again, but with more sincerity, trying to somehow make him understand how much all of this meant to me. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he says, his eyes awkwardly meeting mine. “I’ll leave you settle in. I think Bella’s making some lasagna tonight for dinner.” He shuffles out of the room and closes the door behind him.
Silence fills the small space and my chest tightens, a telltale sign that I want to cry. I breathe in and out deeply, trying to kick out the intrusive sad thoughts broadcasting in my mind. Instead, I take in the details of my new room. It’s in the front corner of the house. Despite its size, there’s a window on both of the outside walls – one giving me a view of the front yard, and the other a view of the dense woods that encased the property. They didn’t have curtains, so that was something I need to add to my shopping list.
Charlie had been right, there was room enough for a dresser, right up next to the bed. I can’t see how there’s room for a desk, though. Because the room is basically a closet, the door opens into the hallway. Immediately inside of the door, you meet the bed about a foot and a half in. From there, you can walk around the bed, less than three feet between the wall and the bed.
As a writer, I need a desk to, you know, do my writing, so that’s something I don’t think I can compromise. What I can do, though, is in place of the dresser, I can put the desk there, and I can get a one of those beds where they’ve got drawers underneath of it. The ceiling is high enough that I can put shelves near the top for even more storage.
I collapse onto the bed, satisfied with my list of ideas, but once again the bad thoughts return. I curl up on my side, my eyes on the pasty blue walls, but I see nothing. My hand crawls its way up my sweater sleeve and begins to scratch the length of my arm. The pain takes away the tightness in my chest, helping me breathe.
I think I fall asleep sometime later. The fullness in my bladder demands I get up. Groggy, I tiptoe to the bathroom down the hall at the top of the stairs. Once finished, noises coming from downstairs spark my curiosity, and I follow them to the kitchen.
Bella is busy making lasagna, going back and forth across the small space from the cupboards to the stove and to the fridge. I stand at the corner of the archway, creeping around the corner. Luckily, she doesn’t notice me, and so I just watch her. I don’t want to introduce myself quite yet.
She’s pretty. Taking after her dad, she has long chestnut brown hair that’s twisted into a messy bun on the top of her head. I can’t see her eyes directly, but they’re dark. Brown, maybe? She’s slim and quite pale. Not my kind of pale where I’m white but still have some pink peachiness to my skin, but like an I-haven’t-seen-the-sun-in-years kind of pale.
“Do you need any help?” I ask.
She jumps back and drops the container of ricotta cheese she’d been holding. “Jesus!”
“Shit, man, sorry,” I say. I come forward and pick up the cheese. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Her brown – yes, I was right – eyes scan me briefly, taking in my thick… everything, before concentrating on my face. “You’re… Melissa, right?”
“Melisa,” I correct her.
“Sorry,” she says.
“It’s okay. Happens a lot.”
She laughs once. “I understand. People usually call me Isabella, instead of Bella.”
I nod and raise my eyebrows, pretending that I understand exactly what it’s like to have someone call me by my full name when instead I want to use a nickname, like they should know already. “Oh, yeah. Totally. Sucks balls.”
She mirrors my expression, smiling.
“But, yeah, do you need slash want any help?” I ask again.
“Oh, um, could you set the table?” She gestures to the small round table by the window.
“Sure, if you tell me where the plates and utensils are.”
She points to the cabinet near the fridge. “Plates are there. Forks and knives are in that drawer.”
“Okie dokie,” I say and get busy laying out the necessities. When I’m finished, I ask again if she wants me to do anything, but she says no, so I pull out one of the chairs and sit. I twiddle my thumbs and puff out my cheeks repeatedly, bored and feeling awkward as fuck.
“So…” I say after a minute or two. “What grade are you in?”
“I’m a junior,” she says. “You?”
“Same… and you’re… seventeen?”
“Yeah.”
“Nice. I won’t be until March.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t say anything more, but I’m going to keep asking her questions now that the ice has broken. “What’s Forks like?”
“Um… Really small.”
More silence.
Jesus fuck, it’s like talking to a fucking wall.
I try to think of more interesting questions. Like… “Any cute guys?”
She blushes a little. Like, actual redness flushes her cheeks. Bingo. “A few.”
“Oh?” I lean forward and waggle my eyebrows. “Do tell.”
“Well… there’s the truly gorgeous guys, the Cullens. They’re all, like, adoptive siblings, and they’re beautiful.”
“Alright, nice, nice, go on.”
“Um… I-I guess another cute guy would be Mike Newton.”
“Hm… Mike Newton,” I ponder aloud. “Judging by name alone, he sounds like a sport guy.”
“He… wears a… a letterman’s jacket.”
“Ha! So I was right.”
“Yep,” she says. “I don’t know what he plays though.”
I smile triumphantly. “It doesn’t matter.”
She had finished placing the layers of meat and sauce and cheese. Before she puts the dish in the pre-heated oven, she covers the top in tinfoil. She pulls out her phone and sets the timer to forty-five minutes. I get up help to her put left over ingredients back in the fridge.
We migrate into the living room. She sits on the couch and I sit in a chair. We stare at each other awkwardly for a few minutes until I drag my eyes away and look around the room. My attention is drawn to the line of pictures on the fire place mantle. They consist mostly of Bella as she grew up. There’s even one of a very young, mustache-less Charlie standing in front of the house with a red-haired woman and an infant. Must be Renee with Bella. There’s even a picture of Charlie by a river holding a particularly large fish.
“Oh, don’t look at those,” Bella says, embarrassed. “They’re terrible. I’ve told him he should take those down.”
My eyes go back to her. “Why? He loves you… and that fish, too.”
She briefly laughs at my joke. “I guess.”
I can tell we’re about to go into another silent session, so I quickly jump in. “So tell me more about the… the cute guys you mentioned before?”
“Um, there’s Jasper and Emmett. They’re seniors, but they could definitely pass as college kids. The other one is Edward and he’s my table partner in Bio.”
I waggle my eyebrows again. “Ooh. What’s he like?”
“Uh… He doesn’t talk much, but he’s very polite… He’s also really smart…”
“Hm… Interesting… Smart guys… very hot.”
“Totally,” she says, and then she leans forward a little, like she’s about to tell me some kind of secret. “But like… the thing about the Cullens… they’re like… different.”
“Different how?”
“They all look the same, but then they don’t, you know?”
“No?”
“They’re all ridiculously pale – paler than me. And I’ve got Albino blood in me.”
“Well, you do live in a sunless town.”
“I know, but like… I don’t know. You’ll have to see them yourself to understand, I guess.”
“Oh… kay.” As uninteresting as Bella seems to be, she’s really into the Cullens. She probably has a crush on all of them. Or at least the last one she talked about. I don’t even remember his name. But whatever, I’ll probably have a crush on them too if they’re that beautiful. Hey, judge all you want, but at least I know myself.
I don’t really have anything else to say to her, but I don’t want to be rude… I think. I look at my phone and give her the excuse that I need to go charge it. It’s not completely untrue. It does need to be charged. I only feel a little guilty because I used it to get away from her… her boringness. Once in my room, I close the door, and rummage through my backpack until I find the charger and plug it in.
As I sit alone in the darkening room, my mind jumps back to the pictures on the mantle, and my throat tightens. It’s a reminder that Bella still has her parents. I lie down and close my eyes, focusing on breathing deeply so I don’t cry.
I don’t realize how long I’m doing this until Bella knocks on my door to tell me that the lasagna is ready. Assuring her I’ll be right down, I sit up. The enticing scent of food wafts into my room and my stomach expresses how much it needs to be fed. I know I need food, but… I can’t help but stare at the floor. Maybe I’m just tired, but I don’t want to move. Going down stairs seems impossible.
And yet, I somehow find myself on my feet, carrying me downstairs to the kitchen. Charlie is already seated, so is Bella, and both of them are eating. Before I sit, I ask about water. Charlie tells me where the cups are, and I fill one up from the door dispenser. When I sit down, I grab the spatula and transfer a square of the steaming lasagna onto my plate. I keep my eyes on my food, slowly feeding myself with small bites.
“So, Melisa, you’ll start school on Monday, okay?” Charlie says, and I look up from my plate. “You’ll go with Bella, and she’ll tell you where you need to go.”
“Okay.” I focus on my food again. Today is Saturday, and so I have tonight and all of Sunday to mentally prepare myself for starting fresh at Forks High School. Fantastic… not.