![Smile :)](./images/smilies/icon_smile.gif)
Chapter one: First sight/Part one
My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt- a belly top with the words ‘Bite me,’ in embolden lettering; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.
In the Olympic Peninsula of Northwest Washington State, a small town named ‘Spoons’ exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and it’s gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I’d been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Chinkie, vacationed with me in Afghanistan for two weeks instead.
It was Spoons that I now exiled myself- an action that I took with great horror. I detested Spoons.
I loved phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling ghettos.
“Bella,” my mom said to me-the last of the thousand times- before I got on the plane. “You don’t have to do this.”
My mom looks like me, except with short hair and wrinkles. I felt a spasm of disgust as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my dense, erratic mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Bob now, so the bills wouldn’t get paid, there would be no food in the refrigerator or gas in the car, and there was no one to call when she got lost, but still…
“Shut the fuck up, mom,” I snapped. “I want to go.” I’d always been a good liar, but I’d been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded really, really convincing.
“Tell Chinkie I said hi.”
“Jesus Christ mom, I will!”
“I’ll see you soon,” she insisted. “You can come home whenever you want- I’ll come right back as soon as you need me.”
But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind that promise. Getting off her ass and going to the airport alone was out of the question.
“Don’t count on it!” I urged. “I assure you it’ll be the death of me!”
She hugged me tightly for a minute before I shoved her away and got on the plane. Then she was gone.
It’s a four hour flight from phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Spoons. Flying doesn’t bother me; the hour in the car with Chinkie, though, I was a little worried about.
Chinkie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He’d already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car.
But it was sure to be awkward with Chinkie. He wasn’t very verbose, not after that time when I was six. Besides ‘go fuck yourself, you incest-ridden pervert,’ I didn’t know what to say regardless. I knew he was more then a little confused with my decision; like my mother before me I hadn’t made a secret of my loathing for Chinkie.
When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn’t see it as an omen- just unavoidable. I’d already said my goodbyes to the sun.
Chinkie was waiting for me with the taxi. This I was expecting, too. Chinkie is a taxi driver to the good people of Spoons. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with a sign at the top reading, “Domino’s pizza; the cheesiest!”
Chinkie gave me an awkward, one-armed pinch on the ass when I stumbled my way off the plane.
“It’s good to see you Bells,” he said smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. You haven’t changed much. How’s that whore of a mother?”
“mom’s fine. It’s good to see you too dad,” I said lying through my teeth. I wasn’t allowed to call him Chinkie to his face.
I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too slutty for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the taxi.
“I found a good car for you, really crappy,” he announced once we were strapped in.
“What kind of car?” I asked suspicious of the way he said “Good car for you,” opposed to just “good car.”
“Well it’s a truck, actually.”
“Where did you find it?”
“Do you remember Billy Black down at La Duesh? La Duesh is a tiny Indian reservation on the coast.
“yes.”
“Well he was rooting through the garbage heap when he came upon this piece of shit.”
“What year is it? When did he buy it?”
“Clean out your ears girl, they found it in the dump.”
“Ch- dad, I don’t know shit about cars. I wouldn’t be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn’t afford a mechanic.
“Stop bitching, Bella, the thing runs great. They don’t build scraps of metal like this anymore.”
“How cheap is it?”
“Well chumpkin, I already bought it for you. As a you-better-cook-me-dinner-every night gift.”
“That’s really fuckin stupid of you. Thanks a lot, dad. I really don’t appreciate it.” No need to add that my being happy in Spoons is already an impossibility.
“Well now, your welcome.”
We exchanged a few more “I-hate-your-guts” comments, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.
It was disgusting of course. I couldn’t deny that. Everything was baby-puke green; the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered in ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly with leaves. It was too fuckin green.
Eventually we made it to Chinkie’s. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he’d bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had- the early ones. There, parked on the streets in front of the house that never changed, was my new piece of shit truck. It was a faded red color-due to rust- with big rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense disgust, I only hated it more. It was one of those solid iron affairs that always kicked the shit out of other cars when it knocked into them. That, I liked.
“Wow, dad. I hate it. Thanks a fuckin bunch.” Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just that much more dreadful. Hey, at least I wouldn’t be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the taxi.
“Oh shut up and get your shit.”
It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The tile floor, the black walls and magenta ceiling, the crimson lace curtains around the window that had long since been fitted with bars. The only changes Chinkie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a second-hand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation for my mother, so that we could…*sigh* stay in touch. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner.
There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs which I would have to share with Chinkie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.
One of the best things about Chinkie is that he really doesn’t give a shit. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, to not have to flip people off and look pleased about it; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain, smoke a joint and get fucked up.
Spoons High school had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty eight students; there were more then seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together- their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new hotty from the big city, a curiosity, a freak. In bed.
I was glad that I looked like a girl from phoenix should; tan, hot, blond.
Once I’d finished my joint, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went up to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after a long day of travel.
I sighed once I’d returned to my bed. Tomorrow was just the beginning.
I didn’t sleep well that night, even after I was done playing with myself. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind against my roof wouldn’t fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too, But I still couldn’t fall asleep until well after midnight, once my dad had finally snuck out of my closet, and the rain settled into a quieter drizzle.
Thick smog was all I could see out of my window that morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here, it was like a cage.
Breakfast with Chinkie was a quiet event. He told me to stay the fuck away from boys. I told him to fuck off, knowing his hope was wasted. Guys tended to like me. Chinkie left first, off to the taxi station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three un-matching chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its bullet-riddled walls, and piss-yellow cabinets, and moldy linoleum floor. Nothing had changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine in the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Chinkie and mom throwing up in Las Vegas, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year’s. Those were great to look at, and I would have to put them somewhere more noticeable- at least while I was living here.
It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Chinkie had never gotten over my whore of a mother. It made me disgusted.
I didn’t want to be too early to school, but I couldn’t stay in the house anymore. I slipped a gun into my waistband and headed out into the rain.
It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for my crack pipe that was always hidden under the eaves of the door, and locked up with my key. The sloshing of my new water-proof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of glass and human bones as I walked. I didn’t pause to spit on my truck like it’d wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.
Inside the truck it was fucking soaking wet! Neither Bill or Chinkie had got off their fat asses and cleaned it up, and the tan upholstery smelled faintly of dead animals and stale piss. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a piece of shit like this was bound to have another flaw. The antique radio didn’t even work, and in my anger I ripped it from the dash and flung it through Chinkie’s bedroom window. Oops.
Finding the school wasn’t difficult, though I’d never been there before. The school was, like most things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be Forks High school, made me stop. It looked like a collection of half-way houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many pimps and ho’s that I couldn’t see it’s size at first. “Where was the feel of institution?” I wondered. “Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors? Shit, I guess I can bring my gun in, then.”
I parked in front of the first building, which had a sign over the door reading, Front office, leave me the fuck alone. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits. Which, is exactly why I parked there. I stepped out of my piece of shit truck and walked down a little stone path lined with skulls. I took a hit off my pipe before opening the door.
Inside it was brightly lit and cold as hell. The office was small; a little waiting area with hard wooden chair, orange carpet, notices and awards all over the floor and a big clock ticking annoyingly loud. I thought about shooting it, momentarily. Weed grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn’t enough outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers, with brightly colored flyers taped to it’s front. There were three desks at the front, one of them manned by a large, pink-haired he-she wearing glasses. The he-she was a wearing a big purple dress, which immediately reduced me to rolling on the floor and laughing uncontrollably. Only when I dragged myself to the counter did the he-she look up.
“Can I help you, sweetie?”
I burst out laughing again. “If you can’t help your balls get into some boxers, why do you think you can help me…?” Again, I was reduced to the floor, laughing hysterically. Tears sprang from my eyes. The he-she waited impatiently until I rose to my feet again. I’m Bella Swan.” I informed her, and saw the look of utter ‘I-don’t-give-a-rosy-shit’ look in the he-she’s eyes. I was expected, a topic of hot gossip no doubt.
“Of course.” The he-she said. He-she dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on he-she’s desk. “I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school. But you better fuckin believe that your skanky ass aint getting shit from me.” She brought several papers out to wave in front of my face.
I flipped the he-she off and marched out of the office. Who the hell did that tranny bitch think she..He..Uhg, whatever.
When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the other cars were older then mine, nothing flashy. At home I’d lived in the ghetto, a place where houses were just a couple million a month, and children would make you play blackjack with them in the streets, for your last million dollars of allowance! It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine once I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn’t draw attention.
(end of part one)
Gender:
Points: 890
Reviews: 3