Wild Turkey

Chapter 1

A/N: I'm always nervous when I start a new story.  It doesn't matter how many stories I've written, each  new story brings about fears and nervousness.  All I can hope is that you like it.  Now, this story does not take place in Forks, but in Alabama.  As you will quickly learn, my Bella has a slight issue with the great state of Alabama.  I, however, do not.  I love Alabama!

....

Rain splattered across the windshield as Charlie drove us toward Hell. The past ten hours had been tension filled, the only sounds being the crappy-ass country music on every freaking radio station or Charlie's pathetic attempts at talk.

"C'mon, Bella. How long are you going to keep up the silent treatment?"

As long as possible. I was so furious with both him and Renee, my mom. Everything had been perfect; my life had been perfect and then bam! Next thing I knew, they were getting divorced. Renee was moving off to California to live with some college boy she met on the Internet, and Charlie sold our house and was moving us to Bumfuck, Alabama. I mean, seriously. Who lives in Alabama?

"Look, Bells. I know that you're upset, but our moving isn't the end of the world. Think of it as a new start."

I didn't want a new start. I wanted to be back in Seattle. I wanted the bustling of the city, Starbucks, and my friends. I did not want to live in some dumpy ass town in Ala-freaking-bama. I didn't want to eat fried alligators, listen to country music, and deal with Southern belles.

"We should be in Wild Turkey in about an hour."

Great. We were moving to a town named after a brand of whiskey. Could it get any worse?

Of course, it could. An hour later, we drove over a four mile long bridge before passing a sign that read Welcome to Wild Turkey Island. It claimed that it was the Home of Judd's Famous Roasted Wild Turkey and Wild Turkey Days. The population was a whole whopping twelve hundred. Make that twelve hundred and two. Oh, yeah. Life officially sucked. I was stuck on an island in the Gulf of Mexico in Alabama with no escape. How in the world did I get so lucky?

"I know that you miss Seattle and the big city, but Wild Turkey doesn't look half bad. Just think. You can hit up the beaches everyday and bask in the sunshine," Charlie said.

Right. Because I tanned. Please. If I so much as looked at the sun, I burned.

As we drove past the welcome sign, there were a bunch of docks to the left of us housing boats, and what looked like a swamp to the right. We kept heading down Lemon Drive, passing a fishing supply store, a church, some houses, and the Loon Cafe. At the cafe, Charlie took a left onto Alabama Boulevard, the street lined thick with trees and the occasional house. A few more miles and then we turned right onto Wild Turkey Road. The trees were even thicker there and about a two miles down the road, Charlie turned into a driveway on the left.

As Charlie drove down the pothole filled driveway, I couldn't help but grimace as the house came into view. It looked small, had a tiny porch and a shed, and it was surrounded by trees. Upon closer inspection, I saw that indeed, it was much smaller than the house I'd grown up in.