The plane ride to Washington was long and boring. I tried to get some sleep but it wouldn't come. Instead, as I listened to the song Cry Little Sister by Gerard McMann, I thought about what might be waiting for me when I got to Port Angeles, which was where I was going to be meeting Charlie. I had to admit, I was rather nervous about it. This would be the first time I'd meet the man who was my father, a man I'd never seen before, as far as my memory was concerned. After all, I wasn't even a year old when my mother decided that she could no longer handle living with him in 'the gloominess that was the idiotic town he refused to leave'.
I sighed, making a face as the plane hit some turbulence. I hate planes, and wished that I had been able to take a portkey or even driven. However, I had agreed to fly out by plane, and, while I could have acted taken a portkey and lied to him, I didn't want to do that. He'd gotten hurt from my mother's lies already, plus I was already hiding things from him. I didn't need to have anymore secrets to hide from him. Also, this way, if he asked how the plane ride was, I'd have something to say.
It was raining when I arrived in Port Angeles. I didn't take it as an omen, just unavoidable. As I'd mentioned to my friends, Forks didn't get a lot of sunlight, and, as Port Angeles isn't that far away, it made sense that it wouldn't either. Stepping off of the plane, I was glad that I'd thrown on my water-proof jacket beforehand, as I would have ended up soaked otherwise. As it was, my hair ended up soaked as I hurried through the rain to the awning that protruded from the main building, and my bad ended up partially damp, along with the jeans I was wearing due to the puddles of water that had formed on the ground.
Sighing as I wrung my hair out as best I could, I entered the building. Immediately, my eyes looked over everyone in there, looking for a sign baring my name. Not original, but as I didn't have a clue to what he looked like, it would get the job done of helping me find him while he looked for me. I kind of wished that I had ask for a picture of him when I sent the ones of me to him.
My eyes spotted the sign with my name on it rather quickly. I didn't move yet, though, choosing to study the mustached man holding it instead. Just looking at him, I could see some similarities that suggested being related. While his hair was a few shades darker than my own, his skin was the same shade of pale, and his eyes were the exact same color as my own. He was wearing a police uniform; it seems that he came here straight from work. I had been a bit impressed when he told me that he was the Chief of Police in Forks. He must do the job well to have that title.
Once my perusal was done, I walked over to him, keeping my eyes on him. I knew immediately when he noticed me.
"Bella?" he questioned. I nodded, coming to a stop in front of him.
"Hey, Ch- Dad," I said, giving him a nervous smile as I stopped myself for calling him by his given name. I stood still in front of him, letting him have his own perusal of me, and I saw his eyes zero in on the pure white streak in my hair. I could see his mouth begin to form the question I'd heard thousands of times before, which caused me to automatically say, "Accident."
A part of me wondered why he seemed so surprised to see it, especially since I sent him pictures of what I looked like, but I had the feeling that he had just thought I had colored my hair.
"Shall we go get the other bags I brought?" I asked after a while. The question seemed to knock some sense into him, for he nodded his head and headed towards the baggage claim area. I quickly found the bags that I had actually brought with me, and grabbed them, only to have Charlie take two of the three. I frowned at his back for a second, wondering if he thought I couldn't carry them by myself, then shrugged, not really caring enough to cause a scene about it.
He handed me an umbrella before we walked out of the building, where I was able to open it without getting wet thanks to another awning. Once I had it over our heads, he led us over to a car that proclaimed itself to be a cruiser of the Forks PD. I frowned, wondering why he had brought it, then remembered that he didn't have much else in the way of transportation, and was glad that Logan was on my way here with my truck. With how fast he drove, as well as the fact that he would most likely only stop when he absolutely needed sleep, he'd be here sometime on Sunday, a mere three days away. This meant that I'd have my truck by Monday, so I wouldn't be forced to accept a ride from Charlie or walk to the school.
My bags fit easily into the trunk, leaving enough room for my carry on as well. I took a second to extract my I-Pod before putting it in as well. I could tell that Charlie was confused at the lack of luggage, which reminded me that I hadn't told him about the fact that Logan was driving my truck here, which also reminded me that I hadn't thought of a way on how he'd get back home. I frowned at the insight as I buckled up and began messing with my I-Pod, changing from the song it was on to the next one. Playing the song on a low setting so that I could talk, I set the I-Pod into my pocket and looked at Charlie.
He seemed a bit nervous as he pulled out of the airport parking lot.
"That was it, right?" he asked. The lack of bags seemed to bother him a bit.
"What I brought straight away, yes," I said. He seemed to deflate a bit. "The rest of my stuff is being driven here with my truck."
Knowing that I had things on the way seemed to calm him.
"Oh, there has been some deliveries for you over the last week," he said. They're in your room right now."
"Okay, cool," I said. There was silence for a few seconds, until what else I had said filtered through his mind.
"Wait, I thought you didn't have a car?" he said.
"No, I do," I answered. "I just, well, I didn't think about how much I had to pack until after I did so, and realized that there were just a bit too many bags for me to be comfortable bringing on a plane. So, I asked Logan if he could drive the rest of my things to me, and that ended up getting me to realize that he could just drive my truck to me so that I'd have it. Why do you want to know?" I asked the last bit as I'd noticed that he wince when I mentioned having a truck.
"Well, uh, when you said that you wouldn't have transportation, I kind of... I kind of got a good car for you," he said, blushing slightly. My mind went blank for a moment, then I tried to think of when I said that, only to remember having mumbled it to myself as I wondered how I would get to school if I decided to come live with him for a while when he first asked about it.
"Oh, th-thank you," I said, blushing myself. I felt a bit ashamed that I hadn't told him that I did have a car – hell, I could have gotten out of riding the plane here if I had – and that he had to waste money. "I'm sorry. I should have mentioned it before. In truth, though, I really didn't think about my truck until yesterday, when I wondered how I was going to get all of my bags to me, and I didn't remember mentioning any problems about transportation to you, so I kind of forgot to let you know that I did –"
"I was blabbing a bit, something that seemed to amuse him, based on the chuckle he gave. It was that chuckle that made me stop speaking.
"It's okay, Bella," he said. "I just figured that it would be better to make sure that you had a car when you got here after hearing that. And it didn't cost much to get anyway. It was my friend Billy's truck. He's in a wheelchair now, and didn't have a use for it, so he sold it to me pretty cheap. Actually, he wanted to give it to me for free, but I insisted on paying him for it."
It made me feel a little better to know that it hadn't cost that much. I had the feeling that, when Charlie insisted that he pay for it, this Billy most likely went for the cheapest price he could get Charlie to pay. Then, as I was calming down, wondering what to do with the truck, something else he said made it's way into my brain.
"What kind of car?" I asked. His assurance that it would be a 'good car for you' struck me as a bit odd. It also made me a bit suspicious as to why he was say it like that.
"Well, it's a truck. A Chevy, actually," he said, realizing that he had already mentioned it being a truck before. The tone of his voice gave me the feeling that he liked that I seemed to be showing in it. I wondered if he was hoping that I would drive it or something, which also gave me the distinct feeling that he had no desire to do so himself.
"What year is it?" His body language changed, letting me know that this was the last question he wanted me to ask.
"Well, Billy's done a lot of work to the engine – it's only a few years old, really," he said, dodging the actual question. I hope he didn't think I would give up. It wasn't in my nature to give things up so easily. Plus, a car that needed engine work was either a crappy car, or old. I kind of needed to know which if I was to get an idea of what to do with it.
"When did he buy it?" I asked. He thought for a moment.
"He bought it in...nineteen eighty-four, I think," he answered. That didn't sound too bad, but, as a plan began forming in my mind, I decided that I needed at least one more piece of information before I decided on what to do.
"Did he buy it new?" Charlie cringed at the question.
"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties, late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly. Well, if it was that old, then it the work it needed made sense.
"You do know, Dad, that I don't know anything about cars, so I wouldn't be able to fix it up if something went wrong," I said. "Plus, anyone who could do that would be wicked expensive as well."
Charlie looked at me, a bit confused at the way that I phrase it. Then he said, "Really, Bella. The thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."
"I'll have to see myself," I muttered to myself, then said louder, "I'll use it for this weekend if I need to go anyway – or just to get the layout of the town. If it works as well as you say it does, I'll see if Logan wants it. He might like a truck like that, and he's a pretty good mechanic, so if it broke down on him, he'd be able to fix it. How much did you pay for it?"
"Around seventy," he said. "Like I said before, Billy was willing to give it to me for free, so he wasn't all that concerned about price."
Wow, that was cheap.
"Well, I'm sure that Logan will be willing to buy it off of you, if it does work well," I told him.
"I'll be willing to sell it if he wants it," he said. I nodded, and that was the end of the conversation. I turned up my I-Pod, enjoying the Flyleaf song All Around Me as I studied my new surroundings. It had stopped raining, which let me see what was around me without a blur to it. The place was pretty beautiful, if not extremely foreign. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of leaves, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air seemed to filter down greenly through the leaves.
I'd never seen so much green, and I wasn't sure I actually liked it all that much. I had my reasons for that. Green was the main color for the Slytherin house at Hogwarts, which had been the least liked house there. Considering my interactions with many of it's members, both who were at school with me, and who were alumni, it made sense that I wouldn't be comfortable in a place that reminded me of that house. That little fact made a frown appear on my face as I hoped that the house wasn't painted green.
The Nightwish song End of All Hope was just ending, with the song Whoever Brings the Night beginning to play when we pulled up to the house. The first thing that I saw was the truck that Charlie had gotten me. It was a faded red color, with big, round fenders and a bulbous cab. It had a certain charm about it, and I had the feeling that Logan would like it, though I doubted it would go very fast.
I then looked at the house, and was glad to see that it was painted an ivory white with red trim. It stood two stories tall, had have a covered porch framing the doorway, with a few steps leading up to it. It wasn't like the places that I was used to, but it did look nice. I grabbed my carry on bag, as well as the bags that Charlie hadn't, and followed him into the house. The inside was just as nice as the outside, with crème colored walls and wood floors. Charlie showed me around the place, showing me the living room and kitchen. I frowned when I saw the kitchen, looking away immediately due to the bright yellow colored cabinets. I would have to see about painting them a better color at some point.
He then led us upstairs, pointing out the door to his room and the only bathroom in the house. I tried not to think about that last bit too much as I looked to the only other door on this landing – which kind of confused me, because he had mentioned that there were three bedrooms in this house. However, I remembered him mentioning that he might make my room bigger for me during our talks, and figured that he had done so. Walking over to the final door, he opened it and let me see my room for the first time.
I smiled lightly as I took in the obvious changes made to it. The walls were a dark purple color, with ebony wood furnishings. The bed was at least a queen sized one, pushed into a little cubby corner next to another door that, when I opened it, saw to be the closet, which was just the perfect size, not taking up too much space. A good portion of the wall space was taken up by bookshelves, and there were boxes everywhere, so I didn't see the full effect of the room, but I looked the best I could, seeing that there were a total of four windows, not including the ones in the corner, where I saw a window seat as I went near it. I noticed that there was a desk and a dresser framing the entrance into the room when I turned towards Charlie.
"Wow," I said, placing my bags down where I stood. "Who helped you do this?" I couldn't exactly see Charlie doing this alone.
"I asked Dr. Cullen's wife," he answered, placing the bags just inside of the door.
"Wait, was this why you were asking those questions on what I would like my room to look like, and what colors I liked?" I asked. He nodded.
"Yeah," he said. "I didn't want you to end up with a room you wouldn't like. And it was a good thing I asked, too. Mrs. Cullen decided to let her one daughter help, and, well, had I not asked, you're closet would probably be bigger than it is right now. As it is, well..."
Those words sounded a bit foreboding to me. They also sparked my curiosity. Walking over to the closet, I opened the door. And then stared at the interior. It was a walk-in, as I requested, but not a normal one. Instead of two rows of rods for me to hang my clothes on, there was, on one side, two rods, one underneath another, three shelves above a set of for drawers, and then another rod, slightly longer than the two I first saw, on the other side of the shelves. The other wall had the same set up, but also had a mirror at the end. An octagon shaped window was at the opposite end, letting light in, while I could see that there were lights on the ceiling for the same purpose.
I had to admit, I was surprised to see it. For what look like a small shape, it was surprisingly roomy inside. I was of two minds about it. It wasn't me – I wasn't the type of girl who loved clothes shopping a whole lot. However, on the other hand, it gave me a good amount of room, and allowed me to hang up more things that I was originally expecting to do.
"Well, it's not too bad," I said. "At least it only looks like it doesn't take up a whole lot of room. That would have sucked if it did."
"Yeah. I was surprised when I saw it myself. For what looks like a small space, it's surprisingly roomy inside," Charlie said. I nodded, smiling lightly at the fact that he said the same thing I was thinking.
"Um, are you going to need any help with all this?" he asked. I shook my head. I would be able to get it done faster without him here.
"Okay, then, I'll just leave you to it," he said. "Um, I'll come get you when it's time for dinner. We'll go down to the Lodge, let you meet a few of the townsfolk."
He left me alone then. I was glad that he did. I didn't like people who tended to hover over you when you were doing something. I had a vague memory of my mother having done it herself, which probably explained why I didn't care for it.
One of the first things I did, after closing and locking the door, was find my speakers and hooking my I-Pod up to them, setting it on the desk when I was done. Changing to an upbeat playlist, I began to unpack. I did the boxes first, followed by the bags I'd brought. I used magic to help me, of course, which made things go faster. While doing all this, I thought about what I'd be facing come Monday, when I started school.
Forks High had a total of three hundred and fifty-seven – soon to be fifty-eight – students. That was definitely more than the Xavier school had, but about a hundred less than Hogwarts. The numbers really didn't frighten me all that much, in truth. What did, though, was the fact that all of these people had known each other since birth; their grandparents had known each other since birth. I was the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, and probably considered a freak in a way, though not the way it usually was. I just knew that I'd be surrounded by people wanting to get to know me. That scared me. I wasn't the type to really care about making new friends – I loved the ones I already had. In truth, I was the type to be a wall flower, happy to have a book and my I-Pod and be left alone with just those two things.
I also doubted that I looked like a girl that they expected to live in a big city as well. I wasn't blonde-haired, tanned, or sporty. In fact, I probably looked like I had lived in a town like this one my entire life. And I definitely was not an athlete. Gym was my worse class, mostly because I could be rather clumsy when it came to that class. My balance had gotten better, particularly when I wore heels, but I usually wasn't allowed to in that class, and I usually had trouble staying vertical. Plus, there was the fact that Hogwarts didn't have a Gym class – though going up and down all those stairs could be considered one – so I had less practice in that class over others.
Once I finished putting away my clothes, I did one more thing. I warded the hell out of my windows and door, making sure that no one uninvited could get in with permission, and also making the glass less likely to break and wall less likely to catch on fire. I'd have to find a time to do the rest of the house later. Then, I sat down on my bed, and took in the entire room, without the boxes blocking my way. It was around this time that Charlie came up and informed me that it was time to go.
I changed the pants I was wearing once I took everything in, uncomfortable with them due to the fact that they were wet. I also brushed and pulled my hair back from my face before heading downstairs, my heels clicking on the floor. Charlie was watching some game on the TV in the living room, but he turned towards me when he heard me coming down.
"I'm ready," I said, adjusting the strap of my purse.
"Okay," he said, standing up and turning the TV off. "Do you want to take the truck or the cruiser?"
"Let's take the truck," I said. I was curious to see how well it ran.
"All right," he said. "Do you want to drive?"
"No," I said. "You know where to go better than I do. And I don't take passengers who try to direct me very well."
"Okay then," he said, leading the way out. I grabbed the umbrella by the door, just in case it started raining again. The truck was load, roaring to life and idling at top level. It didn't surprise me, though, nor did the fact that it couldn't go over fifty-five mph. The fact that the radio was in working condition did surprise me, though. I wouldn't have suspected a truck this old to have a working radio.
The drive to the Lodge, as my father called it, wasn't that long, though it was long enough that he had time to point out a few of the other places around town, like the school and grocery store. Once we got there, I was introduced to several of my father's friends, such as Waylon Forge, and the waitress, Cora.
I wasn't really comfortable with the attention they were giving me all that much, and it showed in my fidgeting. I distracted myself in eating my food, and trying not to be rude while they kept asking me questions. If this was what I would end up having to deal with come Monday, I may just end up figuring out a way not to go to school.
"Are you okay?" Charlie asked me as I drove us back home.
"Yeah," I said. "Why you asking?"
"I don't know. You just seemed so quiet and...tense during dinner," he said.
"That's mostly because I wasn't completely comfortable with the attention," I said. "I know that I'll have to deal with it at school when Monday comes, but I'll have time to get used to the idea with this weekend. I wasn't expecting it at the diner place."
"Sorry, I probably should have warned you," Charlie said sheepishly.
"It's okay," I said as we pulled up in front of the house. "Now you know, though."
With that, I headed inside and up the stair, gathering my bathroom necessities for a shower. I took off my boots, setting them next to my dresser, where I grabbed some sleep wear, and heading to the communal bathroom. I tripped at least twice on the way there, not paying attention to my feet as the floor moved on me.
After my quick shower, I studied my left arm with a frown on my face, looking at the scars on it. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse at Hogwarts, had done what she could to heal them, but the fact that most of them had been given by magical means meant that the majority would stay. I was glad that I would always make sure that they stayed covered, though. I really didn't want to explain why someone had carved the word 'mudblood' into my skin, particularly since most people wouldn't know what it meant.
Sighing as I began to brush my damp hair, I forced my thoughts away from the scars, choosing instead on wondering just how well I'd fit in here. I doubted it would be that well. It wasn't really in me to fit in with normal people. I was barely able to fit in with mutants and witches and wizards. The only place I really fit in was with my friends, and they weren't here. I might have felt better if they were, though.
I wondered if I would find someone I could relate to here. Not that I expected to find anyone who was on the same page as me, unless there was a mutant or witch/wizard living around here with me. My brain was too glitched to really expect to become friends with normal humans. Still, I'd give it a try. I really didn't want to be friendless while here – bullies tended to go after loners in most places.
"You done in there, Bella?" Charlie called through the door, startling me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah," I said, putting the brush down, picking up my things, and turning to leave. I tripped over my towel, making me stumble into the door.
"Ow," I said, glaring at my towel as I bent to pick it up. Opening the door, I walked into my room, put my things down, and threw on a movie to watch, not wanting to get lost in my thoughts again. I went to bed right after the movie ended.
The next day, I decided to explore the town. After finding my sunglasses, I headed down into the kitchen to get something to eat, where I discovered Charlie already making food.
"Morning," I said.
"Morning," he answered. "Would you like some breakfast?"
"Sure," I said.
He handed me a plate of bacon and eggs, and then sat down at the table, finally looking me in the face. He stared when he saw the sunglasses, and the gloves that I was wearing.
"Something the matter?" I asked.
"Why do you have..." he started to ask, trailing off.
"I don't the color yellow, particularly in large amounts. It gives me a headache," I said. He made an 'oh' sound.
"And I take it that the glasses dull it a bit," he said.
"Oh, yeah," I said.
"What about the gloves?" he asked.
"Oh, I just like to wear them," I said, shrugging.
"Okay," he said. I took a few bites of my food.
"Hey, dad, do you have any plans for dinner tonight?" I asked. He frowned.
"Well, I figured that we would get some pizza," he said. "Why?"
"Oh, I was just wondering if I could cook something tonight, that's all," I said.
"You can cook?" he said, surprised.
"Yeah," I said, not sure if I should feel insulted or not.
"Oh, uh, sorry," he apologized, realizing how he'd sounded. "It's just that, well, I can't cook much more than what we're eating right now, and yo-Renee," he stressed her name, remembering that I didn't have a high opinion of her, and that I no longer considered her to be my mother, "couldn't cook either, though she loved to pretend that she could."
"I remember," I said, thinking about all the 'experiments' that Renee had made before I learned to cook. I really suspected that the only reason why I was still alive was because she always made sure to have fruits and vegetables around. "Well, I can cook. I enjoy cooking, in truth. So, if you'd like to just hand me use of the kitchen and leave me in charge of the food..."
"Yeah, go ahead. Knock yourself out," he said, though he looked slightly worried. I had the feeling that he also remembered Renee's experiments. This time, I really was insulted at the fact that he seemed to think I would be anything like her. Still, I didn't say anything, knowing that he didn't quite mean to insult me like that.
Finishing my food, and washing my plate, I looked through the fridge and pantry to see what there was too use. To my dismay, they were pretty much empty save for the things he could make.
"Okay," I muttered to myself. "Looks like I'll have to go grocery shopping. I guess it's a good think that he pointed out where the store was."
Heading upstairs to grab some paper and a pen, I came back down and wrote out a list what we was needed. Then, I went back upstairs, changed into some suitable clothes to go out in, and came back downstairs, my purse slung over my shoulder.
"Hey dad," I said, going through my purse to make sure that I had what I needed. "I'm heading to the store. See you when I get back."
"Okay," I heard him call. "Wait." I paused. "Uh, here." He handed me a card. "For the food."
"Oh, okay," I said. "But I have money for it myself."
He didn't hear, having already headed back to the couch, and distracted by whatever game was on. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his behavior, but put the card into my purse anyway. I'd split everything between this card and mine, putting the more expensive things on my card. I wasn't sure how much he had in his bank account, but I knew I could afford to get pricey food items on my card.
The shopping took no time at all, and I was back at the house pretty quickly.
"Hey, dad, could you come help me unload the truck," I said as I walked back into the house, putting my purse down, and heading back outside to get some bags.
"Sure," he said, following me. "Wow, how much did you get?"
"Everything needed," I said. "Particularly for tonight's dinner. Oh, and don't worry, I'll put it all away."
"Okay," he said, still looking wide-eyed at everything I'd gotten. As promised, once all the bags were inside, and I'd put everything away, I pulled out the ingredients for what I was going to make tonight. I decided to start out easy for him, choosing to have stake and potatoes for tonight. Once that was decided, I went back up to my room, not needing to start it for at least another five hours.
So, for those five hours were spent playing a game on the Wii that had been sent here. I was glad to see that they also had the foresight to send some games here for me to do so – particularly games that I would play. I made sure to set an alarm, since I would have forgotten about making dinner otherwise.
I could tell, as we ate, that Charlie liked what I'd made. I was glad to know, particularly since I would be doing a bit more elaborate meals later on. Like the previous night, I watched a movie until I felt tired and went to bed.
Sunday finally arrived. Logan did as well, while I was cutting up the lettuce for tonight's tacos. I finished doing that just as there was a knock on the door. Smiling, I put the knife down, turn the hear on the meat down, and hurried to the door, just as Charlie was opening it.
"Logan," I said walking forward. Charlie, who had most likely been about to ask who he was, seemed to get a look on his face that seemed to say 'this is that Logan guy you talked about?' I didn't blame him for his reaction. I'd never given him a picture of what Logan looked like, and the way I talked about him, I knew my father was thinking he'd be older. And, while Logan is a lot older than Charlie knew, physically, he looks like he's a bit under Charlie's age.
"Dad, I'd like you to meet Logan. Logan, this is my father, Charlie," I said, making the introductions. "Please come in. I'm making tacos." I hurried back to the kitchen after that, as I didn't want to leave the stove alone while it was on. The meat was done within another few minutes, and I walked back out of the room, not at all surprised to see Logan and Charlie there. I was, however, surprised to see them bringing in bags, and then I remembered that why Logan was driving my truck to me to begin with.
I walked outside to grab a few bags myself, but they'd already brought them all in.
"Here's your keys," Logan said, tossing them to me as he came down the stairs, my father following behind him. I had to stifle a giggle as I noticed that my father seemed to be a bit out of breath from carrying the rest of my bags up the stairs.
"Thanks," I said, gifting him with a small smile. "Come, it's time to eat."
The conversation that night was Charlie interrogating Logan, with me trying to stop it. I particularly hated when Logan informed Charlie of how we met. I don't think that Charlie would have ever guessed it, and I had the feeling that, after hearing it, he could understand why I never said anything about it. After all, who would want your cop father to know that you'd been caught stealing from someone. Luckily for me, Charlie didn't reprimand me; instead, he seemed to be slightly glad to know that Logan wasn't a child rapist or serial killer.
Had I been willing to let Charlie know about my mutant abilities, I would have been able to calm and reassure him that nothing would have happened anyway. I would have been able to take care of myself. Not that I said that, and I gave a look towards Logan to let him know not to say anything about it, either.
Once we were all finished eating, I told Logan where to find the bathroom so that he could take a shower.
"So that's Logan," Charlie said. "I expected him to be a bit older."
"He's around your age," I lied. He was actually older, but I wasn't about to say that, because of the questions that were sure to follow if I did.
"How much did you get for the truck again?" I asked, changing the subject.
"Around seventy," he said. "Why?"
"Well, knowing Logan as I do, it would probably be best to get him ready to leave after his shower," I said. "Not only do we not really have room for him here, but he's technically the PE teacher at the Xavier school, and I don't think we should keep him here that long. Plus, knowing me, I'll end up wanting to talk to him all night, and, well, considering that I start school tomorrow, I don't think that would be a good idea. Plus, where exactly would he sleep. This couch isn't exactly comfortable, and there's no guest room."
I left off the most important part of my reasoning, though. I knew that Logan wouldn't want to stay here, even though he'd be loathed to leaving without spending some more time with me, because Logan had night terrors, ones that I doubted he'd want my father knowing about. I already knew that he hated the fact that I knew about them. But more than that, what he hated the most was that he perceived any being around him as a threat, a fact that could have gotten me killed, had I not 'borrowed' his mutant ability of healing.
"Okay, then I guess..." Charlie started to say.
"I'll talk to him, see if he wants to buy the truck from you," I interrupted. "If he does, you two can haggle out a price for it."
"Actually, you can do the haggling. The truck is yours, after all, so any money you get for it goes to you," he said. His tone brooked no argument.
"All right," I said, though I wasn't exactly happy about it. I decided to make it up in some way.
"Oh, by the way, you didn't mention that you owned a motorcycle," Charlie said. "Now, I would like it to be known that I don't like this fact, and that I would prefer that you not ride it while here."
"So basically I should let it rust," I said, giving him a look that said that wasn't going to happen. My look also said that I wasn't going to sell it either. I may make up for the fact that he needlessly spent seventy bucks for no reason, but that wasn't going to be what I paid for it.
"No, just...just don't ride it when it's raining, or the roads are icy," he pleaded. I gave him a nod of consent to his conditions. It wasn't like I was planning on doing either of those things anyway, so it wasn't a big deal to me.
"I'll be moving it into the garage while I'm outside," I said.
"You might want to open the door then," he said. I nodded, and headed back into the kitchen, going through the side door that led into the garage. Opening the door, I took a look around, this really being the first time I'd come in here. There was a washing and drying machine in a cubby behind the door, along with the water heater and two freezers. A toolbox and several boxes were also in the room. Other than that, it was pretty empty.
"Hey," Logan said, startling me as I didn't hear him coming over the noise of the garage door opening. "Your father said you wanted to talk to me."
I nodded, leading him out towards the Chevy.
"What do you think of it?" I asked.
"It looks like it needs some work done to it," he said. I noticed that there was a light in his eye that suggested that he wanted to do said work.
"It's load, and doesn't go over fifty-five mph," I said. "However, it runs pretty good, and the radio works. Plus, you need a way home."
"Pawning it off on me," he said, giving me a smirk.
"Pawning, selling, whatever you want to call it," I said. "Dad bought it for me because I didn't mention that I owned a truck, nor did I think to tell him that you were bringing my truck here. He was offered it for free, but paid around seventy bucks for it."
"For this," he said. "It's a classic; whoever was selling should have tried to get at least a hundred fifty."
"The person selling it is a friend of my father's," I said.
"Oh, that explains it," he said. Pulling out his wallet, he pulled out and counted several bills.
"Two hundred for it, and don't argue," he said. I frowned at him. "Give your father seventy of that, to repay him for what he paid, and keep the rest."
"He told me to keep it all," I muttered as I looked at the bills he'd given me, frowning some more as I counted that exact amount.
"Then use seventy specifically for him," Logan said.
"Okay," I said, sighing. Folding the bills and sticking them in my pocket, I walked back over to my truck, pulling my bike off of it quite easily, and rolling it into the garage. He followed behind me.
"Well, let's go get the keys to your new ride," I said with false cheer. I didn't want him to leave quite yet, despite the fact that I knew that he should.
"Yeah, let's," he said quietly, probably feeling the same way as I was. Closing the garage door, I let him enter the house first and we headed back to the living room. I handed him the keys to the Chevy, and said bye so that he could get on the road before it got any later. Charlie also said bye as well, and I watched out the window as Logan drove off.
Once I could now longer see the taillights of the Chevy, I headed back to the kitchen, putting away the leftovers and cleaning the dishes. Looking at the clock after that, I figured that, since I had to be up for school the next day, it would probably be a good idea to get ready to do so now.
"I'm going to take a shower and head to bed," I told Charlie as I passed by him. "Night."
"Night," he said.
I headed up the stairs after that, feeling knots forming in my stomach as I thought about school the next day.