The sky was a sad gray, as I stood in silence, staring at the small stone jutting out of the ground. The stone was marble, with elegant rose designs flowing along the border. Sitting up against the stone, was a large bouquet of flowers of all kind; Madonna Lilly's, daisies, fox gloves, and roses of every color. The flowers though, brought no happiness to me, as I stared at the name plate of above the wide assortment. The name plate that held the inscribed letters of the one person I truthfully loved. A new shower of tears began to fall, and I quickly whipped them away, telling myself to stay strong.
With a rough sigh, I set down the last flower that would be given to this lonely grave. A elegant Peony... My mothers favorite.
Giving the bouquet of flowers one last glance, I turned away from the fresh grave, and walked slowly back toward the black car where the social service lady stood. My eyes trailed along the ground as I went, not wanting to meet this woman's face. The woman that was taking me 3000 miles from the only place I had ever lived, Atlanta Georgia, to some secluded town in Washington in the middle of no where, La Push. My life had finally come to an end.
As I reached the car, she opened the door for me and moved aside to let me in. Once I entered the back seat of the car, the social worker, Cindy Scott, began the hour drive to the airport where she would immediately ditch me as soon as my flight arrived. Just thinking about flying in an airplane made this whole drive even more tense than it already was.
"You packed your notepad right?" Cindy asked, glancing at me in the rear view mirror. I gave her a nod, and she smiled at me, then turned on the radio to some classic blues station. Annoyed, I took out my I-pod, and flipped to some more cheerful music. Having a breakdown really wasn't on my agenda right now. Of course I would have told her the music she had on was too depressing for me at the moment, but sadly, my lack of ability to speak caused it to be difficult. Being a mute made a lot of things difficult.
As Miley Cyrus' music 'Party in the USA' rang through my ears, I stared out of the window, watching as the sun finally broke through the thick gray sky, and lit the world around me. But of course, to me, my world was still dark. With one small tear escaping my eye, I leaned my head on the cool window, and closed my eyes going into another world. Where life wasn't full of nothing but pain and despair. Instead it had happiness, and a sense of peace.
A soft tap on the shoulder was what woke me, and my eyes opened to see Cindy smiling at me. "We made it to the airport, Anna. We need to head in before you miss your flight." Quickly taking off my I-pod headphones, I put my only source for entertainment away, and grabbed my small knapsack, pulling it on my shoulder. Cindy was already out of her car as I got out, and grabbed my hand gently, pulling me to the trunk of the car. There she grabbed my two duffel bags and handed me one while she carried the other.
In no time we had entered through the front entrance, gotten my ticket, passed security, put my bags in the luggage section (A/N: I have no clue what it is called), and arrived at the waiting area for flight 212. Cindy sat beside me in the available seats, and stared at the board that showed early arrivals and delays. I could understand why she would want to get away from me so fast. Who would want to hang around with someone who couldn't converse with you? The thought made me want to cry. Mom would want to hang with me...
Bored, I took out a picture of my mother and stared at the only thing I had of her. Looking at me and my mothers resemblance, I could tell right away father wouldn't realize I was his daughter. While my mother had brown, shoulder length hair, green eyes, and light tan skin, I have nothing the same. My eyes are the color of milky brown, my hair is a wavy black and flows about five inches past my shoulders, and my body is very thin, though that's probably due to my lack of appetite. I was a very plain girl, and my beauty could have never compared to my loving mothers.
Eventually the plane for Seattle, Washington arrived, and I put the picture away, then boarded the plane. Cindy gave me ten bucks 'just in case' and said a quick good luck, before shoving me toward the gate. Painfully, I went in the airplane, and took my seat which was neighbored by a boy probably two years older than me, and a middle aged woman, possibly his mom. After I buckled my seat belt, I grabbed my bag and held it close to me, burying my head in it's leather material. It was only till after the plane took off and arrived in the air, that I lifted my head. It was then I realized the boy sitting next to me was eying me with interest.
Si that he wouldn't notice, I quietly scooted away from him, feeling slightly nervous. "Hello," The boy had spoken, and I glanced over at him, nodding to acknowledge I had heard. "So, where you headed?" He asked, turning in his seat to face me better. Biting my finger, my hand trembled for the zipper of my bag, and I unzipped it quickly pulling out a pen and my notepad. The boys stared at me in confusion, as I began to scribble down my reply.
La Push, Washington. You? I handed the note pad to him, and he stared at it still confused. He read and then he looked at me, "You can't speak?" His tone was that of shock. I shook my head, and pointed toward the pad, annoyed he hadn't replied. "Oh! Right. I'm going to Forks. It's actually where I live, and it's not far from La Push. My names Joshua Webber. And that freak is Angela Webber," Joshua said, pointing to the older woman who I know realized was only in her twenties. She glared at Joshua, but smiled kindly at me.
"So what's your name?" Joshua asked, and handed me my notepad. I smiled and scribbled 'Anna Uley' down, then handed it back to him. For the next three hours me and Joshua talked (Well Joshua talked while I scribbled messy words), and we learned a lot about each other. Joshua was 17, and went to school at Forks High. He had a twin brother named Isaac, and told me that Angela was his older sister and was coming home to visit from collage. I even told him a little about me. How I was moving in with my, mysterious father. Told him I was fifteen, and how I would be sixteen in August, four months from now. But I left out the part about my mom. It wasn't a subject I was willing to talk about.
By the end of our discussion, we had exchanged emails, and he had even given me his phone number. Then he pulled out his I-pod and we listened to music for the rest of the trip. It was the first time in a whole week I actually found what I had lost...