Chapter 9: Charlie’s Old Friend

Bella's journey to Forks was surprisingly smooth—no train derailments, no bombs onboard, and no rogue billboards or telephone poles smashing into her during meals. No electrical shorts, no explosions—just peaceful travel.

What was awkward, though, was the conversation between father and daughter on the train.

Charlie thought she'd been traumatized and treated her with extra care and understanding. Their initial chats were stiff and shallow.

"Your hair's gotten long.""Ah, yeah, I haven't cut it since the last time we met.""Grows fast."

That sort of thing.

Bella wasn't sure what her original self-had talked about with her father, so she stayed quiet on anything about their past. Fortunately, she could talk about recent events like the toy car incident or Flight 180, which she had personally experienced.

To ease the tension, Bella deliberately shifted the topic toward Natasha's mom. Men are all pigs anyway—talking about women is always a safe bet!

Turns out, even the usually reserved Charlie warmed up to the subject. Hearing Bella describe how she used pepper spray on a mugger, or how Natasha's mom took someone down with a shoulder throw, clearly helped. Their relationship began to thaw.

Aside from fending off Charlie's constant concern, Bella spent the journey thinking about how to survive.

She didn't believe in God, and God wasn't likely to come save her. She could only rely on herself.

"We're here. Remember this café on the corner? We used to eat here a lot," Charlie said, driving her home in his police cruiser.

Forks is a small town with just over 3,000 residents—plenty of space, not many people.

Honestly, the town's outskirts were beautiful. Everywhere she looked, it was lush and green—moss-covered tree trunks, green leaves, even the ferns were green. The air was unbelievably fresh. It felt like a real, untouched forest.

Charlie owned a white two-story house in town, bought right after marrying Bella's mother. That marriage had lasted barely over a year. The house itself was old-fashioned, with a lawn in front and space to park wherever—garages weren't really a thing here.

Bella looked around and noticed how different the homes in Forks were compared to the apartments in Arizona. Each house had its own unique style and color. Maybe having a house that didn't look like everyone else's was a symbol of freedom or personality? She didn't quite get it.

Her bedroom was on the second floor, facing the front yard. The flooring was modern, the walls painted a deep red. Charlie had clearly tried to prepare it for her—old drawings, photos, and posters hung on the walls. The pillows, blankets, and lamp were all new. It was a small room, but fully equipped, including a second-hand computer.

"It's for you. Hope you like it," Charlie said as he was about to leave.

Bella quickly pulled out the small gift she'd bought at the airport—amid all the chaos, she'd nearly forgotten.

"Oh, thanks! It's lovely!" Charlie replied.

A little gift can go a long way. They soon went out for dinner together, and Charlie agreed readily.

Just then—beep beep beep! A car horn blared from outside. Charlie smiled.

"That's my old friend. Come on, let's go say hi."

Father and daughter stepped outside. Charlie, feeling good about how things were going with Bella, formally introduced his friend.

"This is Billy Black, an old friend of mine. And this is my daughter, Bella. You remember each other, right?"

Billy was a middle-aged man in a wheelchair.

Despite the wheelchair, he had a strong, broad frame, brown skin, a square jaw, and long hair—unmistakably Native American.

(Although, to be precise, "Indian" is now considered a discriminatory term. Officially, the preferred term is Indigenous American.)

Bella was deeply respectful of him—perhaps too respectful.

Marvel Survival Rule #1: Never underestimate anyone in a wheelchair. These types are usually serious big shots.

Bella, a fully able-bodied person, was barely scraping by. A disabled man who could thrive without relying on anyone? That's a sign of real power.

She flashed a polite, confident smile.

"Uncle Black, hello."

Billy shook her hand warmly. But for the briefest moment, a strange look flickered across his face—quickly hidden beneath his cowboy hat.

"You've grown more beautiful. Ever since Charlie heard you were coming, he hasn't stopped talking about it." Billy teased.

Charlie looked aside, a little embarrassed.

"Say that again and I'll roll you into the mud."

"Then I'll break your legs first!" Billy shot back, grinning. The two middle-aged men bickered like kids.

They knowingly gave the younger pair some space. A young man, who had been pushing Billy's wheelchair, now had the chance to step forward.

Bella saw how shy he was and took the initiative.

"Hi, you must be Jacob, right? I remember you—you've bulked up since we were kids. I barely recognized you."

A go-to opening line. Works every time with young men. After all, no guy wants to hear, "You've gotten more feminine since you were a kid."

The young man—Jacob—clearly had Indigenous features and blushed from the compliment. The simping was strong with this one.

"You've also… you're more…" he tried to say something like "more beautiful," but got too shy to finish.

In the original timeline, both had been awkward and exchanged only a few words. But Bella had a plan this time and kept the conversation going.

"I remember you used to love messing around with machines. Still do? Ever mod a motorcycle?"

She sounded genuinely curious.

Jacob nearly leapt into the air with excitement. This was his thing!

"You like that stuff too? Want to check out my garage?"

Bella hesitated for a moment.

"Would that be okay?"

There was an issue with entering the Indigenous reservation—technically, Bella needed permission. The "protected" status of these lands meant trespassing was illegal.

(End of Chapter)