Logan drove us to the Charleston International Airport with the windows rolled completely down. He was singing—quite horribly at that—to Tim McGraw's Where The Green Grass Grows playing on the radio, giving us some background noise. Renée was in the front passenger seat, one hand dancing out the window in the comfortable breeze.

I was wearing a black and white skater skirt with a short sleeved, off the shoulder, shirt that was black and white striped and decorated throughout with a sunflower floral pattern. I paired the outfit with my favorite pair of strappy wedges—black and laces up the shin. This was worn to the Emerald City Comic Con in Seattle that Logan took my mother, my sister, and I to last month. The whole event was to celebrate our sweet sixteenth birthday. Today was a memorable day for the three of us, so I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was an embroidered denim jacket that I cut the sleeves off of to make into a vest.

Before we started bringing luggage to the car, Bella had made the suggestion that I should make a fashion statement by wearing this ensemble on my first day as a Forks High School student. My thoughts exactly.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town called Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds and rain. It rains on this town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, depressing shade (my sister and mother's words, not my own) that my mother escaped with Bella and I when we were only a year old. It was in this town that my sister and I had spent our summer vacations until we were thirteen. Not including our sweet sixteenth where we all decided to meet up in Seattle; Bella came up with the idea that instead, we'd spend our summers with Charlie in nearby California.

I leaned my head against the passenger window and watched on as the Charleston landscape flew by with the people out and about with their daily lives. More than anything, I longed to be among them. Shopping, going out to eat, even riding in the horse-drawn carriage down the cobblestone streets.

Bella sighed beside me. Like me, she was staring out her respective window and watching the scenery fly by.

That is the part I'll miss most by leaving Charleston and going to Forks to live, not that I had any problems with the little logging community. Not as many problems as Bella had. Yes, it's the wettest and rainiest town in the states. It's to be expected when the place literally exists right off the Olympic Peninsula and is surrounded on all sides by the mountains and, to the surprise of none, the ocean. I feel once Bella gave it the place an honest try, the town of Forks would eventually grow on her.

"Girls," Mom called out to us—the last of a thousand times—before we got on the plane. "You really don't have to do this. Either of you."

Despite being twins, Bella and I couldn't be anymore different. We inherited the dark hair of our parents, although mine is nowhere similar to Bella's chestnut and looks closer to resembling our great-grandfather's golden blonde hair than anything. Bella has Charlie's chocolate brown eyes where I have blue eyes that was inherited from my mother and great-grandfather. Where Bella is content lounging on the couch with a good book at hand, I like to get out and see what I can find. I'm a lot like Renée in that way.

Another thing I see different between us is that Bella wants to go to college right after high school and major in English Language and Literature. But when I graduate from high school, I'm going to hit the ground running. What I want to do is travel, see new places and experience new things—like a tumbleweed drifting in the wind.

"We want to go," Bella lied reassuringly, breaking me out of my thoughts. She'd always been a horrible liar, but she had been saying this lie so many times lately that you can almost believe her. Almost.

"Do tell Charlie I said howdy."

"We will." I said, giving her a small smile. "Everything will be okay, trust us."

"I'll see you both soon," She insisted, reaching up to adjust the clasp on the oval locket I wore, which dangled from a long silver chain around my neck. It had belonged to my Grandma Marie. Inside was a picture of her as a newborn with her parents that was taken in 1920—according to Grandma Marie, her father went missing a couple of months after she was born. "Look after each other and remember that you can always come home whenever you want—I'll come running the second you need me."

Bella and I exchange a knowing look. She could see the sacrifice in our mother's eyes, just as clearly as I can. Mom loves us, we know that, but sometimes I feel her love for adventure, coupled with being flighty, interferes with what is truly important. But some people aren't meant to be parents.

"Don't worry about us," Bella urged, trying her best to plaster on a reassuring smile. "Rox and I will be fine. Think of this as that honeymoon you and Logan never got to go on."

I had to suppress a snort at that. Even if Bella hated Forks, I love the place and always will. The town of Forks has humble beginnings as a home for loggers and fishermen, and to this day, gets by being fueled by the local timber industry. Hikers, fishermen, and hunters alike are drawn in by the appeal of nearby Olympic National Park.

I felt drawn to the little town, but not in the same way as those people. And it's not something I can easily explain to either my sister or mother. I know they wouldn't understand. That feeling—the pull drawing me to go home—has been getting stronger and stronger the closer to the airport I get; a feeling that I never felt when I visited in the past.

She hugged us both tightly for a minute, but before completely letting me go, she took me by both shoulders and had a stern look on her normally friendly face. "Watch after Bella, keep that under control and no matter how much you might want to, don't use it on your new classmates."

Okay. So, I might have left out one itsy, bitsy detail. One little detail that sets me apart from my sister. I am what some people call a telekinetic; a person with the ability to manipulate movement and matter with their mind. You know Jean Grey from Marvel's X-Men? I'm like her, except without the malevolent secondary personality that wants to destroy everything. I've had telekinesis for as long as I can remember. According to Dad, I inherited the ability from his mother, Helen.

It's a five-hour and fifty-five minute flight from Charleston to Seattle, a little over half an hour spent in a small plane to Port Angeles, and then another hour's drive back down to Forks. The trip might not have been so bad if not for the fact we shared our lane with this older woman with an obsession for things feline related and the color pink. She talked our ears off about her collection of ornamental cat plates.

Luckily, we didn't have to share our Port Angeles flight with her.

Dad has been fairly nice about the whole situation. He seemed genuinely pleased that Bella and I were coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten us registered for high school, though it's disappointing that Bella and I won't be in the same grade. Due to having too many sick days, Bella will be redoing her freshman year and I'll be going in as a new sophomore.

Here's something I recently found out. We went back to school a couple of weeks ago in South Carolina, but in the state of Washington, students return to school in September. Bella and I will be the only ones that can say we experienced our first day of school twice in the same year.

The cold wind blew my hair back when I exited the William R Fairchild International Airport with Bella and our Dad in tow. This was another thing to be expected with our move from Charleston and the change of climate—you can expect rain almost daily. Just as we stepped up to the curb and Dad went off to get the car, so we wouldn't have to walk in the rain, a vehicle flew past us splashing the icy cold puddle right in Bella's direction.

"Fucking hell, that's cold!!" Bella's thin leggings and long sleeve tunic provided no defense against the water. The splash hit Bella head-on, drenching her front completely from the neck to both of her feet. "Everytime we come to Washington, I'm always the one that ends up wet!!" She continued to yell, in between an endless bout of swear words that would have made Grandma Marie proud.

I couldn't help but get a dig in. "Rather early to get your freak on, isn't it?" I asked her, the corner of my lip was twitching from suppressed laughter. "When have you found the time to get wet, unless it's from drooling over Sam between episodes of Supernatural?"

Bella turned to me, face flaming out of embarrassment, with one hand lifted, her middle finger on full display. "Screw you, Roxy. Screw you so very much."

"Alright, alright. Don't lose your pretty little head, I'll dry you."

I flattened one hand against her shirt and the other on her pants leg, taking in deep breaths to concentrate, before slowly moving my hands back simultaneously. From the starting point where my hands were, the moisture started to recede backwards until two watery spheres started to form in both hands. I didn't stop until all of the moisture was drawn out of Bella's clothing. What I drew out, levitated above my palms, before I smashed them together and let the water fall back down to the pavement.

"Thanks." Bella said to me, once all of the moisture was removed from her clothes and then, she gave me a playful slap to my arm. "And that's for the comment about Sam."

Unbeknownst to Bella or Roxy, a figure wearing dark shaded glasses to hide their eyes and short-cropped Ivy-league hair that is golden blonde, is watching them closely. Maybe a little too closely. And none of the other passerbys seem to notice, or care, too busy with their own lives to pay attention to the figure staring at the two girls.

From within the security of the shadows, they grin widely as Roxy extracts water from her sister's clothes only to shatter the two spheres made from the extraction, letting it drizzle to the pavement. For one say the figure was surprised, was a major understatement. The discovery took them completely unawares.

Ever so often, Roxy would sense something or someone watching and turn around, but everytime, without fail, the mysterious figure ducks around the corner to avoid being discovered.

Eventually, the figure watched on as a police cruiser pulled up and an older man, someone they quickly identified as the girl's father, helps put their luggage in the trunk. Once the two are in the car and said car has turned around the corner, the figure turns as if to depart, grins again over their shoulder and completely disappears from sight.

Before long, Dad returned with our ride which to the surprise of none, was his police cruiser. To the good people living in Forks, Washington, Dad is known as the Chief of Police. He made it as far as Corporal before deciding to leave the Marines, but found his calling in helping people as a police officer and later, as Forks, Washington's Chief of Police. I think he's rather good at it.

The ladies like him, at least. Must be the uniform.

We only had a few bags each. We had our clothes sent ahead of us to Washington once our minds were made up about moving. Dad had called us when the U-Haul truck showed up at the Forks address with the majority of our clothes, knick-knacks, and bedroom furniture. It was sweet of him to get everything unloaded and up to our rooms.

"I found a good vehicle for you girls, really cheap," He broke the silence once we were strapped in, me in the front and Bella in the back. We debated on who would get shotgun through our favorite game of rock-paper-scissors. After making that announcement, he took a deep breath before continuing. His annoyance wasn't lost on us. "At least that's what I'd like to say. So, imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to some yahoo from the moving services revving up a 1970 Dodge Charger on my front lawn."

"My baby arrived!" Clamping my hands together, I gave a little squeal that startled Dad. Bella kicked my seat in annoyance—she always hated it when I squealed like that. I found the action to be very annoying, but it got my attention and I turned to Dad to offer him a sheepish apology.

"I should have known that Charger belonged to you, Rox." Dad sighed. "Though, I wish you girls or Renée had told me last month."

Bella and I apologized, with me leaning over the center console to give him a light peck on the cheek, but made sure to not disturb his driving when I did so. We honestly thought Renée had told him about the car that Logan gifted us for our birthday, should've known better.

"Really, Dad, Roxy's the only one between us that can handle driving the Charger," Bella tried to steer the conversation back on subject. What she said wasn't a lie, either. The first time she got behind the wheel, my sister flattened our mailbox and took out the neighbors garden gnome. "It's why we agreed Roxy would be the primary driver but we'd share the ownership until I got my own."

"Well, I reckon there's no harm in telling Bella about the one I had gotten, since it'll be going to her. Now that I know only one of you need a vehicle, and it won't be a waste of money spent."

Bella perked up at that. "What kind of car?"

Well, it's not exactly a car, but a truck. A Ford Bronco, to be exact."

"A truck?" I probed the same time Bella asked. "Where did you get it?"

"Do you girls remember the Blacks that live down at La Push?"

La Push is the tiny Quileute reservation on the coast where my childhood friends Rebecca and Rachel Black, and Leah Clearwater live. Bella and I met them through Charlie's friends, Billy and Sarah Black, and Harry and Sue Clearwater. Rachel and Rebecca are identical twin sisters, unlike Bella and I, and they have a younger brother a couple of years younger than us.

"No." Bella answered.

"Yeah, he used to go fishing with us during the summer, right? Sarah, his wife, would come over to get fresh fruit from the trees in our yard to make some of her homemade pies. How are they?" I asked, having a bit of a clearer recollection of our visits to Forks than my sister did.

"Not too good." Dad sighed. "Billy and Sarah were involved in an accident a few months back, and while Billy can no longer drive anymore and will forever be confined to a wheelchair. Sarah, she.. well.. she didn't come out of it. Rebecca and Rachel didn't take it too well—they both have moved away from home."

"Dad, I'm truly am sorry." Bella gently consoled him from the backseat, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "You two were good friends for a long time." I leaned over to awkwardly hug him from across the console. What really stunned me was the fact both Rebecca and Rachel were no longer in the area, and I couldn't even begin to imagine how Jacob, their brother, was handling it. My best guess is not well.

What a good time to leave home, right when their father and brother needed them. But, I do reckon we all deal with grief in our own ways.

"So, where does this truck come into play?" I finally asked him.

"Well, you see," Charlie sighed again. "It originally belonged to Sarah. It came out in the early seventies, but she owned it for years and made sure to keep it in good condition in all the time she was living. With her gone, neither Rebecca or Rachel want anything to do with it."

"That's really nice, Dad, that you'd get it for me. Thank you very much."

"Well, now, you're welcome," He mumbled, embarrassed by her thanks and show of affection when she leaned forward to quickly peck him on the cheek. I swore I saw the old man blush.

Forks was very beautiful, of course, and looked every bit like the logger community it was reputed for. I wouldn't deny the appeal it had even if I wanted to. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging down with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. As the cruiser drove through, I took the opportunity to sightsee and admire the logging town—every storefront had a wood carving. The Timber Museum’s sign was two loggers sawing a stump. The Police Station is a small wooden building across from City Hall.

After a long trip, we made it to our birth home. Dad still lived in the same medium-sized, three bedroom house that he bought for Renée once it was discovered they were expecting twins. A long gravel road, surrounded on both sides with a fence, leads us up to the two-story, three bedroom log house with a wrap around porch. The house sat upon nine acres of pasture that, when our parents moved in, Renée added her own little touch by planting apple and cherry trees. Her reasoning was there'd be some color to the otherwise green world outside.

There, parked in the driveway in front of the house, was Bella's new—well, new to her—truck. It was a shiny dark blue, the removable soft top on the back was black to match the tires.

"Wow, Dad, I love it!" Bella squealed. "It's perfect for me!"

"So do I," I agreed with a smile. "It's great."

I'm glad you like it," Dad said gruffly, embarrassed again. "I'll show you later how to remove the back, for days when the weather is just right and you may want more than just the windows down."

It took only one trip to get all of our stuff upstairs to our separate rooms. I got the east bedroom that faced over river in the back yard and Bella got the one across from mine that faced over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The hardwood floor, white walls, the peaked ceiling, the white lace curtains around the window were all a part of my life growing up.

I had added the gold lotus flower that was on my window. The only other changes were switching out the crib for a queen sized sleigh-bed with button-tufted upholstery on the headboard and footboard; a white and gold comforter bedding set covered the mattress to match the rest of the room. Dad also added a reading nook under my window, and a ceiling-to-floor bookcase to the opposite wall. The bookcase held my laptop that Renée saved up to buy for my birthday last year, along with a picture of Bella and I as young girls with Jacob Black, his arm thrown over Bella's shoulder. In addition to that, the rest of the shelves held a collection of books—from historical romance to history and everything in between—that was bought through the years. There was a large vanity that had once belonged to Grandma Swan and an oak armoire.

The room that Bella now used was our grandparents old room that they had slept in back when Dad took care of them before their deaths. It was a little bit smaller than mine and had been painted purple recently for Bella's benefit instead of the ugly green color that it used to be. She had a small dresser, a canopy bed with white curtains, a rocking chair from when we were babies, and a desk that held her own laptop. We shared the one bathroom at the top of the stairs, while Dad had his own downstairs.

One of the best things about Dad is that he knows when to leave people alone to give them space. He left us alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for our mother.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven—now fifty-nine—students; there were more than seven hundred people in our junior class alone back home in Charleston. All of the kids here had grown up together, hell, it wouldn't surprise me if their grandparents had probably been toddlers together. The kids will see us as the new girls from the big city.

When I finished putting my clothes away in my closet and armoire, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the long day of travel. I looked up at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my long, tangled, damp hair. I didn't relate very well to a lot of people my age, aside from my sister, and that was only because she was a lot like me in that aspect. But for different reasons. Once people learnt what I can do with my mind tricks, they often got frightened and put distance between us.

I didn't sleep well that night. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the quilt over my head, and later added a pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep no matter how hard I tried.

Around midnight, I heard the creaking of my bedroom door and peaked my head out from under the covers to see Bella quietly closing the door before turning around to face me. I lifted up the covers in silent invitation and scooted over towards the other side of the bed. She scampered forward and dived under the quilt to get warm. It was a habit we had settled into ever since Bella got her own room. Whenever we had trouble sleeping, she would sneak into my room. We had a very close relationship, as close as sisters could be. I think it had something to do with having to be the adults in the house, so we relied on each other to get things done and looked to the other for support from the time that we were just little kids. I could always tell what she was thinking and how she was feeling, almost like a sixth sense. I knew it was the same for her.

Bella and I smiled tiredly at each other, no words needing to be said. Having my twin here next to me was enough to help me relax. Finally, the rain settled into a drizzle and we were both able to fall asleep.

Tomorrow is going to be a better day.