I sat quietly in the car beside Charlie, only listening to the sounds of our breathing and the gentle hum of

the motor. Passing cars, and forest trees flew by me while my vacant eyes stared out at the pounding rain through the foggy window.

"Bella, we're almost there." Charlie said abruptly, and I looked over to him, and he was staring out the front windshield. I nodded, and went back to my sulking.

About a month ago, my mother, Renee was killed by a drunk driver, forcing my dad, and I to move to Forks. My uncle used to live here, and he told us of the beautiful scenery and the soothing constant rain, and that my dad and I should take his old house because he got a new beach house in California. How does that sound to you? Yeah, my ass.

My dad turned on to a small road, and pulled into the drive of a quaint little white house about four houses in. They were far apart, and had far much more room than either of us would need.

He brought the car to a halt, and turned off the engine, making it completely quiet. I exhaled and opened my door, then closed it again with a little more force than was absolutely necessary.

I let the rain pour down on my head, and freely dampen my hair. Normally, I would have ran into the house, but nothing really bothered me much anymore. I felt like I had been through it all.

"Bells, could you grab your bags from the back seat?" Charlie asked, throwing one of his bags over his left shoulder and heading inside. I grabbed all four of my bags at one time from the backseat, and slammed the door shut again, going inside of the new house.

When I walked in, it had sort of a musky smell. Oh well, I guess that's what you get when you live in the rainiest place in the United States. You walked directly into the kitchen which had yellow cupboards, growing even more yellow with age, and a checkered white and gray floor. It was mostly empty, aside from the refrigerator and the stove that my uncle had left us.

I walked through the short, narrow hallway to the living room. A medium sized television set sat in the corner across from a maroon reclining chair, and on the other side of the room against the wall was a large brown couch with a wooden coffee table in front of it. I went up the stairwell where a walked all the way down a wide hall and at the end was my new bedroom.

It was completely empty, aside from the small full sized bed up against the window, and a dinosaur of a computer that looked as if it hadn't been used since the Middle Ages that sat on top of a mahogany desk opposite it.

I set my bags on the ground next to me, and began emptying everything, piece by piece. After about ten minutes, Charlie knocked on my door, and I looked up suddenly. "Hey Dad."

"Hi Bells," he said looking down, almost like he was thinking about what to say to me. "I just wanted to see if you liked your room." He said, putting off whatever he was going to tell me.

"Yeah, yeah. It's nice." I said, looking around at the four lavender walls that surrounded me, and the gray shag carpet underneath me.

"I know this is hard for you," he said, lowering his tone due to the delicacy of the situation. "It's hard for the both of us, but we're just going to have to cope with our loss, and try our hardest to adapt to this." He said, choking up a little bit at the end.

I nodded. I didn't like talking the Charlie about my mother very much. He loved her a lot, and I knew if I said the wrong thing, I would pay for it in silent sobs and distant eyes. I couldn't bear to see Charlie like that, let alone myself.

"I like it, Dad. We'll be okay." I said, with a gentle smile, trying to ease up the situation a little bit.

He nodded, and shut the door. I heard him walk back down the stairs and turn on ESPN. Home sweet home.

I opened my suitcase and pulled out my ballet shoes. I stared at them, memories of my mother and I flooding back through my mind.

My mother and I were in my basement, practicing. Every wall was covered in mirrors, the floor, one huge blue mat, just in case one of us fell during a jump.

"No, Bella. Arms up, a little higher- there you go." My Mom said, as a twirled in a perfect pirouette, and twirled across the floor. My feet danced across the mat faster and faster, ending with a barrel jump, and a hip fall.

"Wonderful, Bella. By fifteen, you're already a natural dancer." She said, with a clap, and a got up, and skipped to the stool in corner of the room to take off my shoes."Thanks, mom." I smiled, and she pranced across the floor, a little leap in her step at the end. "You're welcome, baby. You're such a beautiful dancer, just like your mother." She grinned, and put her arm around my shoulder.

I didn't notice that my eyes had started watering as I remembered. I shook them away, and threw the shoes across the room.

I let out a low groan, and sprawled out across the floor. Forks, Washington. Forks, Washington with mom. Forks, Washington; no sun, no real beach, no fun. Woo.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

I opened the pizza box, and looked down at the gross looking platter before me. Another thing to add to my 'Why I Hate Forks Washington' list- nasty looking pizza.

Against my better judgment, I grabbed one of the pre- cut slices, and took a small bite. Hmm, whadya know? Tastes nasty, too.

I threw the bitten piece in the garbage, and opened the fridge to see if there was any remotely edible looking things that hadn't expired. I four bread, cheese, and peanut butter, and cream cheese. Grilled cheese sandwiches sounded good to me right about then.

As I was frying the bread and cheese in the pan, Charlie came into the kitchen and grabbed a slice of the pizza off the table. "I ordered pizza," he said bluntly.

I looked at him, and laughed without humor. "I saw. I wouldn't eat that if I were you."

He ate it anyway, and shook his head, taking another bite anyway. "Last time we get from there." He replied.

"Sounds like a plan."

"What are you making?" He asked, trying to peek around my shoulder.

I shrugged. "Just some grilled cheese. Did you want any? I could make you one of you want." I said, holding up the spatula, preparing to go back to the fridge.

He put his hand up, and shook his head. "No thanks. I'm going down to the precinct. Did I tell you they offered me a job as police chief last week? Good break, huh?" he said, putting on his jacket.

"That's good. Glad to hear it." I said, and flipped the grilled cheese over once.

"I won't be home till late. There's a ballet studio not too far from here if you want o go practice. It's at the YMCA in Port Angeles about ten miles north, not far at all. Your uncle's old car is out back, keys are on the table. It's yours if you want it."

"Really?" I beamed in disbelief. Well, that's something to start a new list. I've always wanted my own car, after all I was seventeen now. I deserved a little something after everything that has happened to me.

"I don't see why not." He said, and opened the door to reveal more pounding rain and a gloomy sky. "I'll see you later, Bells." He said, smiling and waving to me as he walked out the door.

I quickly finished up making the grilled cheese, and gulped it down quickly, chasing it with some flat Dr. Pepper I found in the back of the fridge. Reminder: GO SHOPPING.

I ran upstairs to grab my purple dancing bag, and shoved my ballet shoes into it. I pulled on my pink tights, and a black leotard. I put on a pair of yellow shorts, just for now, and a light green hoodie. It wasn't too cold out anyway.

Throwing my hair up, I ran back downstairs, grabbed the keys off the counter, and raced out the back door to the backyard where I big red truck sat proud under an array of branches and rain. I removed the branches and hopped into the car, and drove the keys into the ignition. It made a grinding sound before it started up, and I threw it into gear. Stick shift, ugh. I'd get over it, though.

Surprisingly, even though I didn't dare push the truck over 45 miles per hour, I made it to the YMCA pretty easily. The street signs, and random pedestrians were a big part of my success, but that's besides it all.

I parked the car in the spot closest to the door that I could get. A few cars down from me, was a silver Volvo that stood out most prominently. I rolled my eyes. Rich kids…

It was cold inside, but it was comfortable. No rainy, musty smell. Just air. Better than the air in Phoenix, that's for sure. Another thing to add to the list.

The receptionist looked at me with a polite smile on her face, even though you could tell she really didn't want to be there. It was a young girl, only about my age. Her name tag read 'Jessica.'

"Hi there, can I help you?" she asked.

I placed my hands on the counter. "Yes, you can actually. Um…" I stammered, not knowing quite what to say. What was a really looking for? What if there was no dance studio in here, and Charlie was just trying to make me feel better.

She looked over the counter at my attire. Yellow shorts over pink tights. She smiled and looked back up at me. "You're looking for the dance room, I assume?"

"Yes." I giggled quietly, and smiled.

"It's just right through the basketball court, and there is a small room with a bunch of mirrors. That's it." She said, pointing through the window where three guys were playing basketball.

"Thanks," I replied, readjusting the straps on my bag and beginning to walk away.

"Hey," the girls voice said, and I turned back again, confused.

"I haven't seen you around here before, are you new?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said looking down a bit abashed. "I just moved here. I'm Isabella Swan." I said extending a hand out to her.

She grabbed it gladly and smiled brighter this time, more genuine. "I'm Jessica Stanley. It's nice to meet you. So what grade are you in?" she asked.

"I'm in eleventh. I'm going to be starting at Forks High School in a few days."

Her smile became wider again. "That's where I go. I'm in eleventh too. You can sit with my friends and I at lunch if you want too."

"That'd be great!"

"Cool. I let you go, though. I have to get back to work. It was nice meeting you, though." She said.

"Nice meeting you, too." I said as I headed off through the gymnasium, past the three boys playing basketball.

One of them was very big, with short dark brown hair. He looked more like a bear than a boy. The second, the one with the ball, had medium length hair for a guy that was a dirty blonde color. And the third, was a bit lankier than the others, but still just as muscular, obviously. His hair was reddish- brown- almost like a bronze color. But, all of them were pale white with angelic faces that should be pictured in DG Magazine.

The bronze haired one looked over at me pointedly, and smiled. I smiled back a friendly smiled, and kept walking.

I went through to the dancing room where every walled surface was covered in mirrors. The floor was wooden, but a stack of multicolored mats were set up in the corner. The bright fluorescent lights beat down on me, making my eyes squint together. I sat down in the middle of the floor, and put on my shoes, and took off my shorts and hoodie.

I stood up, and began to stretch just a bit before I began. I started out with simple twirls, which developed into rhombusays. My hair tie fell out, and my hair flowed down, and framed my face. I watched it as I twirled while it flew around. I stopped, and ran across and jumped, landing on my toes, floating down into a split. I closed my legs, and did a backward roll, landing on my knees. I danced to the beat of the classical music I was playing in my head. Claire de Lune by Debussy.

I was startled when I heard someone come in the door. I jumped up, and the music stopped. The bronze haired boy stood in the door with his mouth open, not really sure what to do.

"Hello." Was all I could say.

"Hello." His voice, smooth as velvet, more beautiful than the music I was just playing in my head.

"Can I help you?" I asked, but it came out a little sharper than intended.

"No, I just, I just left my bag in here was all." He said, pointing to the corner of the room. I was a little embarrassed, I wondered how long he had been standing there, watching me dance.

"Oh, okay." I said, and stood up, bending over and re-putting up my hair. I looked up from under my eyelashes to find him looking at me. I ignored it, and flipped back up.

"You're a beautiful dancer." He said so quietly that I almost didn't hear it.

"Well, thank you very much." I said, and I felt the blood rush up to my face.

"You're very welcome. I'm Edward Cullen." He said in his soft melodic voice.

"I'm Bella." I said, sitting back down at taking my shoes off, stretching out my toes.

"It's very nice to meet you." He said, standing at the threshold of the doorway.

"Likewise." I replied. I wanted him to leave, he made me feel intimidated, his glorious self just standing near me. He was gorgeous, the body of a Greek god. And for as hard as he looked like he and the other boys were playing basketball, it looked like he didn't even break a sweat, I looked closer at him, and his eyes were a butterscotch colored gold.

"Well, I have to go," I said pulling on my shorts and sweater. "But it was nice meeting you." I said with a smile, holding my head down.

"Wait!" he called, but I ignored him. All I was focused on, was getting the hell out of there.

'Bad things about Forks, Washington'

-No sun.

-No fun.

-Constant rain.

-Nasty pizza.

'Good things about Forks, Washington'

-Friendly people.

-New car.

-YMCA dance studio.

-Edward Cullen???