A/N: I wish every night that I was Stephenie Meyer and that I own all Twilight and New Moon and Eclipse…but it never comes true -sniffs-

I step off the airplane into the wet, humid air of Forks, Washington, already missing Phoenix and the dry heat. I scratch my head, causing several strands stand straight up in the air, and I lick my fingers, then try and pat the hair down.

I look around for my dad, but he's absent from my line of sight. Turning around in a circle, I let out a small, strangled cry of frustration. Where was Charlie? Several people turn around to stare at me as I turn circles, searching for my father. He was supposed to pick me up! I check my watch and then the time of scheduled arrival. Nope, my flight's right on time. So where is Charlie?!

A tap on my shoulder stops my spinning. There stands Charlie, a giant grin plastered on his face.

Hi, Bella, He signs, spelling out my name (There aren't any signs for names).

Hi, Ch-Dad. I write back. He wraps me in a big hug, swinging me around. I've always been small enough for him to do that. And it's not like I can protest, anyway. Besides, it makes him happy. So why not indulge him?

How was your trip?

I shrug my shoulders and tilt my head slightly to one side, the universal sign-not official ASL, but everyone knows what it stands for-for okay. That made him smile. The car is this way. He points, grabs my bags, and heads off. I tag along obediently, answering his standard questions:

How is Renee?

Mom's fine.

What about School?

The same. Boring as always.

That got a small laugh out of him as we piled into the car. The cruiser, actually. Charlie is Chief of Police in Forks, and this was the only car he owned. That was the deciding factor in my internal argument about whether or not to buy myself a car. I did NOT want to mooch rides in any car that had flashing blue and red lights on its roof.

After several years of driving, I've found that it's hard-well, more like impossible-to sign while doing so. So I always carry a little notepad with me. Don't worry about your safety-I don't write when I'm driving; I scribble down what I want to say when I'm at a stop-sign or red light.

After we're several miles down the streets, and the airport has long since melted into the dark emerald trees surrounding us, Charlie motions that he wants to write in my notepad.

Hon-I've bought you a car. Charlie wrote. I raise my eyebrows and start writing.

Why?

I have to wait until we come to the next stop sign until I can get an answer, and it's mildly frustrating. I'm impatient, always have been.

As a…sort of welcome home present.

Oh. Dad, you didn't need to. I was going to buy one myself. I had some money saved.

Again I have to wait until I get an answer as Charlie presses the gas pedal and takes off. I grind my teeth until the next intersection.

It's okay. I wanted to do this for you.

When should I go pick it up? And where is it, anyway?

Well, Bells, I already bought it-more like took it. Remember Billy Black? My friend from La Push?

I nod my head and sign vaguely, remembering hazily a tall, impersonal man coming with Charlie and me on annual fishing trips when I came to visit, often bringing his twin daughters along as well. I scour my brain, and finally come up with their names: Rachel and Rebecca.

He's in a wheelchair now, so I took his old car-truck, actually. It should be a good car for you.

I notice that he said 'good for you', instead of just 'good'. I narrow my eyes, and am about to write something sarcastic and scathing, but we pull into the driveway just then, so I put the notepad away and get out of the car, scrambling awkwardly on the wet gravel until I have to grab onto the car-door for support.

Instantly I spot my 'new' truck. It's big with a bulging cab and hood, it's rusty red-mostly just rusty-and it's so…perfect! I rush over to it and rub its fender. I think I've fallen in love with a truck.

Thanks, Charlie! I sign, and hug my father around the waist. He gruffly pats my back, but awkwardly hugs me back.

You're welcome, Bella.

Charlie heaves my luggage out of the trunk of the cruiser and lugs my bags-just two, even combining both of our savings, Renee and I didn't have much money to buy much of a winter wardrobe-up the stairs to my room.

I'll leave you alone so that you can unpack in peace. Charlie signs, and heads back down the stairs. I smile wanly at the difference between my parents: Renee would have sat down on the edge of my bed, signing and chattering away about how much I would love it here, and all the new friends I was going to make, and what she was making for dinner that night. But Charlie left me alone, allowing me to sit on my bed and let a few tears trickle down my face.

I've exiled myself to my seventh layer of hell. Just to make my mom happy. It sounded like a good idea at the time, very self righteous, but now…

Now I'm having second thoughts.

But it did make Renee so happy…. Maybe I did do the right thing. She looked so sad when I told her I wanted to move to Forks and Charlie. But then I told her that she was free to travel with Phil, and it made her so much happier.

I skip dinner, claiming that I'm not hungry and that I just want to sleep. It's nerves more then anything, but I won't tell Charlie that. Charlie looks slightly hurt, but he signs that it's understandable, and hugs me goodnight, reminding me that I need to get a good sleep, because school starts tomorrow.

I groan (making an unpleasant sound I'm sure-Charlie flinches slightly) and trudge up the stairs to my room. School's bad enough. Especially high school. But somehow, in an odd way, it's almost better when you can't hear the whispers or giggles coming at you from all sides, penetrating and piercing. Sometimes it's better if you can't hear the negativity. But sometimes not. When you're wrapped in a cloak of silence, like I am, life is tougher and you can see the harsh realities close up. If you're deaf, you're forced to.

I'm not sure whether or not to continue this one…I'm trying to overcome my writer's block on "The untold story". Maybe if I can finish that and get enough reviews on this I'll continue. I consider thirteen a good amount. But even if I reach that amount soon, it would be awhile before I could or would update anyway.

Review please! It makes me warm and fuzzy inside!