[For Bill]
Bella sat on the bed in her new room and stared at her hiking boots.
She remembered the day a year ago when she'd first arrived in Forks. Charlie'd done his best to update her old room. Her childhood toy box had been replaced by an old scarred desk, an ancient computer had rested there instead. The rocking chair had still been there, though. Same pictures on the walls, same bedding on the bed.
She'd upended her whole life when she'd gone back to Forks, but at least there had been just enough memory there to not make it completely alien.
Not so in this place, wherever the hell this was. The only things she had here to give the room any sense of home were a pair of waterlogged, and probably ruined, hiking boots from Newton's and the single metal ring with her truck ring on it.
"And sitting here staring at it isn't going to make your old bedroom appear. You made the best of it before, Bella, you can do it again. At least no one here is trying to kill you."
She refused to say yet.
Resolved to do at least that, Bella got up off the bed, hung Charlie's red flannel in the closet and made for the door. If this was going to be her home, she might as well find out what it had going for it -- or didn't as the case may be.
Invariably, Bella found herself in the kitchen. What she hadn't expected was for her stomach practically snarling in response.
When had she last eaten? Dinner the night before? A long forgotten meal of broiled fish and wild rice.
She poked through cabinets,the pantry, the fridge and found the makings for a decent chicken and pasta salad. It was good hot or cold and she could put what she didn't eat back for anyone else to eat. In no time, she had pasta on to boil and chicken cooling on a towel, waiting for her to shred it.
She remembered the day a year ago when she'd first arrived in Forks. Charlie'd done his best to update her old room. Her childhood toy box had been replaced by an old scarred desk, an ancient computer had rested there instead. The rocking chair had still been there, though. Same pictures on the walls, same bedding on the bed.
She'd upended her whole life when she'd gone back to Forks, but at least there had been just enough memory there to not make it completely alien.
Not so in this place, wherever the hell this was. The only things she had here to give the room any sense of home were a pair of waterlogged, and probably ruined, hiking boots from Newton's and the single metal ring with her truck ring on it.
"And sitting here staring at it isn't going to make your old bedroom appear. You made the best of it before, Bella, you can do it again. At least no one here is trying to kill you."
She refused to say yet.
Resolved to do at least that, Bella got up off the bed, hung Charlie's red flannel in the closet and made for the door. If this was going to be her home, she might as well find out what it had going for it -- or didn't as the case may be.
Invariably, Bella found herself in the kitchen. What she hadn't expected was for her stomach practically snarling in response.
When had she last eaten? Dinner the night before? A long forgotten meal of broiled fish and wild rice.
She poked through cabinets,the pantry, the fridge and found the makings for a decent chicken and pasta salad. It was good hot or cold and she could put what she didn't eat back for anyone else to eat. In no time, she had pasta on to boil and chicken cooling on a towel, waiting for her to shred it.