Chapter 1

           Mymotherdrovemetotheairportwiththewindowsrolleddown.Itwasseventy-fivedegreesinPhoenix,theskyaperfect,cloudlessblue.Iwaswearingmyfavoriteshirt-sleeveless,whiteeyeletlace;Iwaswearingitasafarewellgesture.Mycarry-onitemwasaparka.

           IntheOlympicPeninsulaofnorthwestWashingtonState,asmalltownnamedForksexistsunderanear-constantcoverofclouds.ItrainsonthisinconsequentialtownmorethananyotherplaceintheUnitedStatesofAmerica.Itwasfromthistownanditsgloomy,omnipresentshadethatmymotherescapedwithmewhenIwasonlyafewmonthsold.ItwasinthistownthatI’dbeencompelledtospendamontheverysummeruntilIwasfourteen.ThatwastheyearIfinallyputmyfootdown;thesepastthreesummers,mydad,Charlie,vacationedwithmeinCaliforniafortwoweeksinstead.

           ItwastoForksthatInowexiledmyself-anactionthatItookwithgreathorror.IdetestedForks.IlovedPhoenix.Ilovedthesunandtheblisteringheat.Ilovedthevigorous,sprawlingcity.

           "Bella,"mymomsaidtome-thelastofathousandtimes-beforeIgotontheplane."Youdon’thavetodothis."

           Mymomlookslikeme,exceptwithshorthairandlaughlines.IfeltaspasmofpanicasIstaredatherwide,childlikeeyes.HowcouldIleavemyloving,erratic,harebrainedmothertofendforherself?OfcourseshehadPhilnow,sothebillswouldprobablygetpaid,therewouldbefoodintherefrigerator,gasinhercar,andsomeonetocallwhenshegotlost,butstill...

           "Iwanttogo,"Ilied.I’dalwaysbeenabadliar,butI’dbeensayingthisliesofrequentlylatelythatitsoundedalmostconvincingnow.