Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I'D NEVER GIVEN MUCH THOUGHT TO MY FUTURE — THOUGH I’d had reason enough in the last few months. But even if I had, I would not have imagined it could disappear like this.

I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me.

I had made a mistake — believing I could somehow save someone I loved. Only to realize I had been used as part of something much darker.

I knew that if I had never gone to Forks, I wouldn’t be facing death now. But terrified as I was, I couldn’t bring myself to regret that decision.

That choice had led me here.

To this moment.

To becoming collateral damage in something far bigger than I ever understood.

I prayed it would end with me…

as the hunter smiled in a strangely friendly way and stepped forward to kill me.

Chapter Text

MY MOTHER DROVE ME TO THE AIRPORT WITH THE WINDOWS ROLLED down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt-sleeveless, white eyelet lace- as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka. 

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead. 

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself— an action that I took with great horror. I detested Forks. 

I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city. 

"Bella," my mom said to me — the last of a thousand times — before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this." 

My mom says that we look so much alike that we could be twins. It was somewhat true, I guessed, though the laugh lines on her face gave her age away. And we did share the same blue eyes, but hers were more childlike, wide with wonder. I didn’t exactly look like my dad either. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared into those eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still… 

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been telling this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now. 

"Tell Charlie I said hi." 

"I will." 

"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want — I'll come right back as soon as you need me." 

But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise. 

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom." 

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was gone. 

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying didn’t bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, did. 

Charlie had been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car. 

But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I knew he was more than a little confused by my decision. Like my mother before me, I hadn’t made a secret of my distaste for Forks. 

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen — just unavoidable. I'd already said goodbye to the sun. 

Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop. 

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane. 

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?" 

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face. I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser. 

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped in. 

"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said, "good car for you" as opposed to just "good car." 

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy." 

"Where did you find it?" 

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast. 

"No." 

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted. 

That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory. 

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap." 

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn't ask. 

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years old, really." 

I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up that easily. "When did he buy it?" 

"He bought it in 1984, I think." 

"Did he buy it new?" 

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly. 

"Ch — Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic…" 

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore." 

The thing, I thought to myself… it had possibilities — as a nickname, at the very least. 

"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on. 

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression. 

Wow. Free. 

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car." 

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So, I was looking straight ahead as I responded. 

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add that being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the mouth — or engine. 

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks. 

We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We stared out the windows in silence. 

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.  

It was too green — an alien planet. 

Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had — the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new — well, new to me — truck. It was a faded red color, with big, round fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged — the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed. 

"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Now my horrific day tomorrow will be just that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser. 

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again. 

It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellow lace curtains around the window — these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner. 

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact. 

One of the best things about Charlie is that he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag. I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to think about the coming morning. 

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven — now fifty-eight — students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All the kids here had grown up together — their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak. 

Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond — a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps — all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun. 

Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft in a way, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself — and harming both myself and anyone else who stood too close. 

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of toiletries and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallow and unhealthy. My skin could be pretty — it was very clear, almost translucent — but it all depended on color. I had no color here. 

Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here? 

I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. My mother tried to be close to me, but we were never exactly in harmony, never on exactly the same page. It was hard knowing that having responsibility for me weighed her down from all the things she wanted out of life. It often had me wondering why, once I was old enough to be dragged around by her, I didn’t get the same sense of joy out of it. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.  

But the cause didn't matter, only the effect did. And tomorrow would be just the beginning. 

I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle. 

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it felt like a cage. 

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatched chairs and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing had changed. My mother had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. 

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable. 

I didn't want to go too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket — which felt like a biohazard suit — and headed out into the rain. 

It was just drizzling, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood. 

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life before settling into a loud idle. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected. 

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of an institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors? 

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door. 

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed. 

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?" 

"I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife, come home at last. 

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me. 

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could. 

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the traffic line. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. There was one yellow Porsche here, but it stood out drastically. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me. 

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this; I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck. 

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief. 

Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door. 

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here. 

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name — not an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on. 

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me. 

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type. 

"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. 

"Where's your next class?" He asked. 

I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six." 

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes. 

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-helpful. "I'm Eric," he added. 

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks." 

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid. 

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" He asked. 

"Very." 

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?" 

"Three or four times a year." 

"Wow, what must that be like?" He wondered. 

"Sunny," I told him. 

"You don't look very tan." 

"My mother is part albino." 

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm. 

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked. 

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful. 

I smiled at him vaguely and went inside. 

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat. 

After two classes, I started to recognize several faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map. 

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up. 

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke to them. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room.  

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them. 

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. 

There were three of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention. 

They didn't look anything alike. The one boy was big — muscled like a serious weightlifter, with dark, curly hair. He looked like he could be in college or even be a teacher here rather than a student. 

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The other girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme. Her hair was deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. 

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruise like shadows. As if they were all suffering from a sleepless night or almost done recovering from a broken nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.  

But all this is not why I couldn't look away.  

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine.  Or painted by an old master as the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the short black-haired girl. 

They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched, the blonde girl rose with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten apple — and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging. 

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten. 

As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing, probably, from my tone — suddenly she looked at her, the thin one, the pixie-like one. She looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then her dark eyes flickered to mine — quick, alert, like she hadn’t meant to look. 

She looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, her face went blank — deliberately so — it was as if she had called her name, and she'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer. 

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did. 

"That's Alice and Emmett Cullen. The one who left was Rosalie Hale; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath. 

I glanced sideways at the remaining girl, who was looking at her tray now, picking a bagel into pieces with quick, precise movements. Her mouth was moving very quickly; her perfect lips barely opening, moving too quickly for me to follow. The boy still looked away, and yet I felt she was speaking quietly to him. 

Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here — small town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home. 

"They are… very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement. 

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "Emmett and Rosalie are together though, and they live together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip. 

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related…" 

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his late twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hale girl, the blond girl, she’s a foster child." 

"She looked a little old to be a foster child." 

"She is now; Rosalie is eighteen but has been with Mrs. Cullen since she was eight. She's her aunt or something like that." 

"That's really kind of nice — for them to take care of those kids like that, when they're so young and everything." 

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness. 

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat. 

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely, I would have noticed them on one of my summers here. 

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska." 

I felt a surge of pity and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard. 

As I examined them, the girl Cullen looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in her expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that her glance held some kind of unmet expectation. 

"Which one is the girl with the short, black hair?" I asked. I peeked at her from the corner of my eye, and she was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today — she had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again. 

"That's Alice. She’s gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. She doesn't do friends. Apparently, the only girlfriend she’d want is her foster sister." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when she'd turned down hanging out with her. 

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at her again. Her face was turned away, but I thought her cheek lifted, just slightly, like she was hiding a smile. 

After a few more minutes, the two of them left the table together. They were both noticeably graceful —even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The girl named Alice didn't look at me again. 

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too. 

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Alice Cullen by her short hair, sitting next to that single open seat. 

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching her out of the corner of my eye. Just as I passed, she suddenly went rigid in her seat. She looked at me again, this time without looking away, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on her face — it was… wrong. Too sharp. Her expression tightened, like something had caught her off guard — and she didn’t like it. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled. 

I noticed that her eyes were black — coal black. 

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by her, bewildered by the antagonistic stare she'd given me. 

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw her posture change from the corner of my eye. She was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of her chair and averting her face like she was reacting to something she couldn’t ignore. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed like an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher. 

Unfortunately, the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. I took notes carefully, anyway, always looking down. 

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the strange girl next to me. During the whole class, she never relaxed her stiff position on the edge of her chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see her hand on her left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under her pale skin. This, too, she never relaxed. She had the long sleeves of her white shirt pushed up to her elbows, and her forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath her light skin. 

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for her tight fist to loosen? It never did; she continued to sit so still it looked like she wasn't breathing at all. What was wrong with her? Was this her normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.  

It couldn't have anything to do with me. She didn't know me from Adam. 

I peeked up at her one more time and regretted it. She was glaring at me again, her black eyes sharp, intense — fixed on me like she was trying to figure something out. As I flinched away from her, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind. 

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Alice Cullen was out of her seat. Fluidly, she rose — taller than I'd thought — her back to me, and she was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat. 

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after her. She was so… unfair. It didn’t make any sense. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency. 

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked. 

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I smelled bad. 

"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile. 

"I'm Mike." 

"Hi, Mike." 

"Do you need any help finding your next class?" 

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it." 

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small. 

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today. 

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Alice Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen her act like that." 

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Alice Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb. 

"Was that the girl I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly. 

"Yes," he said. "She looked like she was in pain or something." 

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to her." 

"She’s… kind of a weird girl." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you." 

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation. 

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. At home, only two years of RE. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory for all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth. 

I watched four volleyball games simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained— and inflicted — playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated. 

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself. 

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out. 

Alice Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that spikey black hair. She didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free. 

She was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. She was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time — any other time. 

I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else that happened before I entered the biology room. The look on her face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could react to me with that kind of intensity. 

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Alice Cullen's back stiffened, and she turned slowly to glare at me — her face was absurdly beautiful — with piercing, dark eyes — sharp, focused, and wrong in a way that made my stomach drop. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. She turned back to the receptionist. 

"Never mind, then," she said hastily in a musical voice. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And she turned on her heel without another look at me and disappeared out the door. 

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip. 

"How did your first day go, dear?" The receptionist asked maternally. 

"Fine," I lied, my voice was weak. She didn't look convinced. 

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting tears the whole way there. 

Chapter Text

THE NEXT DAY WAS BETTER… AND WORSE. 

It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque. It was easier because I knew what to expect from my day. Mike came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring at him all the while; that was flattering. People didn't look at me as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I now remember. I began to feel like I was treading water instead of drowning. 

It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the wind echoing around the house. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn't raised, and I had the wrong answer. It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn't cringe out of the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the head with it. And it was worse because Alice Cullen wasn't in school at all …which shouldn’t have mattered. 

All morning, I was dreading lunch, fearing the way she’d looked at me. Part of me wanted to confront her and demand to know what her problem was. While I was lying sleepless in my bed, I even imagined what I would say. But I knew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to do it. I made the Cowardly Lion look like the Terminator. 

But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica — trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for her then failing entirely — I saw that her two siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and she was not with them. 

Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment she would arrive. I hoped she would simply ignore me when she came and prove my suspicions false. 

She didn't come, and as time passed, I grew more tense. 

I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, she still hadn't showed. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a Golden Retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at the door, but Alice Cullen wasn't there, either. I exhaled before I realized I’d been holding my breath and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered at my desk until the bell rang. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a girl with braces and a bad perm. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't be easy. In a town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, diplomacy was essential. I had never been enormously tactful; I had no practice dealing with overly friendly boys. 

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Alice was absent. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason she wasn't there. It was ridiculous and egotistical to think that I could affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it might be true. 

When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of my cheeks from the volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into my jeans and navy-blue sweater. I hurried from the girls' locker room, pleased to find that I had successfully evaded my retriever friend for the moment. I walked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in my truck and dug through my bag to make sure I had what I needed. 

Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. So, I requested that I be assigned kitchen details for the duration of my stay. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall. I also found out that he had no food in the house. So, I had my shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was on my way to the Thriftway. 

I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, I saw the kids getting into their car. It was the shiny new Mercedes. Of course. I hadn't noticed their clothes before — I'd been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was obvious that they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn dishrags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive that they should have both looks and money. But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn't look as if it bought them any acceptance here. 

No, I didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be their desire; I couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty. 

They glanced at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school grounds. 

The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. I did the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was. 

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them wherever I could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge. 

When I finished with that, I took my backpack upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair up into a ponytail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had three messages. 

“Bella,” my mom wrote… 

Write to me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom. 

I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first. 

"Bella," she wrote… 

Why haven't you emailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom. 

The last was this morning. 

Isabella,                                                                                                                                                                                            If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie. 

I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun. 

Mom,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash.                                                                                                                         Bella. 

 I sent that and began again. 

Mom,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Everything is great. Of course it's raining. I was waiting for something to write about. School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I met some nice kids who sit by me at lunch.                                                  Your blouse is at the dry cleaners - you were supposed to pick it up Friday.                                                       Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me.                                                                                                                                                                     I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check my e-mail every five minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you.                                                                                                               Bella. 

I had decided to read Wuthering Heights — the novel we were currently studying in English — yet again for the fun of it, and that's what I was doing when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil. 

"Bella?" My father called out when he heard me on the stairs. 

Who else? I thought to myself. 

"Hey, Dad, welcome home." 

"Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose. 

"What's for dinner?" he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed to remember that far back. 

"Steak and potatoes," I answered, and he looked relieved. 

He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. We were both more comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked and set the table. 

I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room. 

"Smells good, Bell." 

"Thanks." 

We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of us was bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited for living together. 

"So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?" He asked as he was taking seconds. 

"Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice." With one outstanding exception. 

"That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid — nice family. His dad owns a sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here." 

"Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked hesitantly. 

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man." 

"They… the kids… are a little different. They don't seem to fit in very well at school." 

Charlie surprised me by looking angry. 

"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, making ten times the salary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to have him — lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all three of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature — I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should — camping trips every other weekend… Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk." 

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly about whatever people are saying. 

I backpedaled. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to be more complimentary. 

"You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a good thing that he's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around." 

We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. He cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the dishes by hand — no dishwasher — I went upstairs unwillingly to work on my math homework. I could feel a tradition in making. 

That night, it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly and exhausted. 

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way. 

Alice Cullen didn't come back to school. 

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens’ remaining children entered the cafeteria without her. Then I could relax enough to join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry. 

By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my biology class, no longer worried that Alice would be there. For all I knew, she had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about her, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry that I was responsible for her continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed. 

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. I cleaned the house, got ahead of my homework, and wrote my mom more bogusly cheerful e-mails. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a card; I would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got… and shuddered at the thought. 

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well. 

People greeted me in the parking lot on Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but happily it was not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, very easy. 

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point. More comfortable than I had ever expected to feel here. 

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly at each other. The wind bit my cheeks and my nose. 

"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing." 

I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face. 

"Ew." Snow. There went my good day. 

He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?" 

"No. That means it's too cold for rain." Obviously. "Besides, I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes — you know, each one unique and all that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips." 

"Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" He asked incredulously. 

"Sure, I have." I paused. "On TV." 

Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us — in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike apparently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together a pile of white mush. 

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Once people start throwing wet stuff, I go inside." 

He just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure. 

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. Sure, it was drier than rain — until it melted in your socks. 

I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush balls were flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in my expression kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself. 

Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that table in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. There were three people at the table.   

Jessica pulled my arm. 

"Hello? Bella? What do you want?” 

I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious; I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong. 

"What's with Bella?" Mike asked Jessica. 

"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to the end of the line. 

"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked. 

"Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor. 

I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes on my feet. 

I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for the next hour. 

Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away. 

I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table. If she was looking at me like she had before, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was. 

I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them were looking this way. I lifted my head a little. 

They were laughing. Emmett had his hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else — only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us. 

But, aside from laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Alice the most carefully. Her skin was less pale; I decided — flushed from the snow fight maybe — the circles under her eyes much less noticeable. But there was something more, too. I pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change. 

"Bella, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following my stare. 

At that precise moment, her eyes flashed over to meet mine. 

I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that she didn't look harsh or unfriendly as she had the last time, I'd seen her. She looked curious again but not satisfied, like she hadn’t figured something out yet. 

"Alice Cullen is staring at you," Jessica giggled in my ear. 

"She doesn't look angry, does she?" I couldn't help asking. 

"No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should she be?" 

"I don't think she likes me," I said. I still felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm. 

"The Cullens don't like anybody… well, they don't notice anybody enough to like them. But she's still staring at you." 

"Stop looking at her," I hissed. 

She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that she did, contemplating violence if she resisted. 

Mike interrupted us then — he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed enthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested. I kept silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared. 

For the rest of the lunch hour, I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since she didn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach did frightened little flips at the thought of sitting next to her again. 

I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual — he seemed to be a popular target for the snowball snipers — but when we went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after Gym. 

Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four. 

Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook. 

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing. 

"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice. 

I looked up, stunned that she was speaking to me. She was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but her chair was angled toward me. Her hair was dripping wet, disheveled — even so, she looked like she'd just finished shooting a commercial for hair gel. Her dazzling face was friendly, open, with a slight smile on her flawless lips. But her eyes were careful. 

"My name is Alice Cullen," she continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan." 

My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? She was perfectly polite now. I had to speak; she was waiting. But I couldn't think of anything conventional to say. 

"H-how do you know my name?" I stammered. She laughed softly, the sound light and enchanting. 

"Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive." 

I grimaced. I knew it was something like that. 

"No," I persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?" 

She seemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?" 

"No, I like Bella," I said. "But I think Charlie — I mean my dad — must call me Isabella behind my back — that's what everyone here seems to know me as," I tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron. 

"Oh." She let it drop. I looked away awkwardly. 

Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as she explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right. 

"Get started," he commanded. 

"After you, partner?" Alice asked. I looked up to see her smiling with a dazzling smile so beautiful that I could only stare at her like an idiot. 

"Or I could start, if you’d rather.” The smile faded; she was obviously wondering what was wrong with me. 

"No," I said, flushing. "I'll go ahead." 

I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab, and I knew what I was looking for. It should be easy. I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide briefly. 

My assessment was confident. “Prophase." 

"Do you mind if I look?" she asked as I began to remove the slide. Her hand caught mine, to stop me, as she asked. Her fingers were ice-cold, like she'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When she touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us. 

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, pulling her hand back at once. However, she continued to reach for the microscope. I watched her, still staggered, as she examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had. 

"Prophase," she agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet. She swiftly switched out the first slide for the second and then glanced at it cursorily. 

"Anaphase," she murmured, writing it down as she spoke. 

I kept my voice carefully indifferent. "May I?" 

She gave a small, knowing smile and pushed the microscope toward me. 

I looked through the eyepiece, trying not to seem too eager—only to be disappointed. She was right. 

"Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at her. 

She handed it to me, careful not to touch my skin this time. 

I took the briefest look I could manage. 

"Interphase." I passed her the microscope before she could ask for it. She took a swift peek and then wrote it down. I would have written it while she looked, but her clear, elegant script intimidated me. I didn't want to spoil the page with my clumsy scrawl. 

We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides repeatedly, and another group had their book open under the table. 

Which left me with nothing to do but try not to look at her… unsuccessfully. I glanced up, and she was staring at me, that same inexplicable look of frustration in her eyes. Suddenly I identified that subtle difference in her face. 

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly. 

She blinked, clearly puzzled. “No.” 

"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes." 

She shrugged and looked away. 

In fact, I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat black color of her eyes the last time she'd glared at me — the color was striking against the background of her pale skin and her black hair. Today, her eyes were a completely different color: a strange ocher, darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. I didn't understand how that could be, unless she was lying for some reason about the contacts. Or maybe Forks was making me crazy in the literal sense of the word. 

I looked down. Her hands were clenched into hard fists again. 

Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. She looked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab and then stared more intently to check the answers. 

"So, Alice, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?" Mr. Banner asked. 

"Bella," Alice corrected automatically. "Actually, she identified three of the five." Alice said lightly. 

Mr. Banner looked at me now; his expression was skeptical. 

"Have you done this lab before?" He asked. 

I smiled sheepishly. "Not with onion root." 

"Whitefish blastula? 

"Yeah." 

Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?" 

"Yes." 

"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, I began doodling on my notebook again. 

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Alice asked, like she was deliberately reaching for something normal to say. Paranoia swept over me again. It was like she had heard my conversation with Jessica at lunch and was trying to prove me wrong. 

"Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like everyone else. I was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling of suspicion, and I couldn't concentrate. 

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question. 

"Or the wet." 

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," she said thoughtfully. 

"You have no idea," I muttered darkly. 

She looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine. Her face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any more than courtesy absolutely demanded. 

"Why did you come here, then?" 

No one had asked me that — not straight out like she did, demanding. 

"It's… complicated." 

"I think I can keep up," she said, a little more intent now. 

I paused for a long moment and then made the mistake of meeting her gaze. Her dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking. 

"My mother got remarried," I said. 

"That doesn't sound so complex," she disagreed, but her expression softened with sudden sympathy. 

"Last September." My voice sounded sad, even to me. 

"And you don't like him," Alice surmised; her tone was still kind. 

"No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough." 

"Why didn't you stay with them?" 

I couldn't fathom her interest, but she continued to stare at me with penetrating eyes, as if my dull life story was somehow vitally important. 

"Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living." I half-smiled. 

"Have I heard of him?" She asked, smiling in response. 

"Probably not. He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He moves around a lot." 

"And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." She said it as an assumption again, not a question. 

My chin raised a fraction. "No, she did not send me here. I sent myself." 

Her eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," she admitted, and she seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact. 

I sighed. Why was I explaining this to her? She continued to stare at me with obvious curiosity. 

"She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie." My voice was glum by the time I finished. 

"But now you're unhappy," she said quietly. 

"And?" I challenged. 

"That doesn't seem fair." She shrugged, but her eyes were still intense. 

I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair." 

"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," she agreed dryly. 

"So that's all," I insisted, wondering why she was still staring at me that way. 

Her gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," she said slowly. " But I’d bet you’re suffering more than you let anyone see.” 

I grimaced at her, resisting the impulse to stick out my tongue like a five-year-old, and looked away. 

"Am I wrong?" 

I tried to ignore her. 

"I didn't think so," she murmured smugly. 

"Why does it matter to you?" I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away, watching the teacher make his rounds. 

"That's a very good question," she muttered, so quietly that I wondered if she was talking to herself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was going to get. 

I sighed, scowling at the blackboard. 

"Am I annoying you?" she asked. She sounded amused. 

I glanced at her without thinking… and told the truth again. "Not exactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read — my mother always calls me her open book." I frowned. 

“On the contrary,” she said, studying me. “I find you very difficult to figure out.” Despite everything that I'd said and she'd guessed, she sounded like she meant it. 

"You must be good at that kind of thing then," I replied. 

"Usually." She smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite teeth. 

Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relief to listen. I was in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life to this bizarre, beautiful girl who may or may not despise me. She’d seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that she was leaning away from me again, her hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension. 

I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable. 

When the bell finally rang, Alice rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as she had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after her in amazement. 

Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imagined him with a wagging tail. 

"That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Cullen as a partner." 

"I didn't have any trouble with it," I said, stung by his assumption. I regretted the snub instantly. "I've done the lab before, though," I added before he could get his feelings hurt. 

"Cullen seemed friendly enough today," he commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. He didn't seem pleased about it.  

I tried to sound indifferent. "I wonder what was with her last Monday." 

I couldn't concentrate on Mike's chatter as we walked to Gym, and RE. didn't do much to hold my attention, either. Mike was on my team today. He chivalrously covered my position as well as his own, so my woolgathering was only interrupted when it was my turn to serve; my team ducked warily out of the way every time I was up. 

The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could dry it on the way home. 

I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed the still white figure. Alice Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Porsche, three cars down, watching me. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the brake in time. It was just the sort of car that my truck would make scrap metal of. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Porsche, but from a peripheral peek. From the corner of my eye, I would have sworn she was laughing. 

Chapter Text

WHEN I OPENED MY EYES IN THE MORNING, SOMETHING WAS DIFFERENT. 

It was the light, still the gray-green wash of a cloudy forest morning, but clearer somehow. I realized there was no fog veiling my window. 

I jumped up to look outside and groaned in horror. 

A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. But that wasn't the worst part. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid — coating the needles on the trees in delicate, glittering patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. I had enough trouble not falling when the ground was dry; it might be safer to just go back to bed now. 

Charlie had left for work before I went downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with Charlie was like having my own place, and I found myself reveling in solitude instead of being lonely. 

I threw down a quick bowl of cereal and some orange juice from the carton. I felt excited to go to school, and that scared me. I knew it wasn’t the promise of stimulating classes or even my new set of friends. If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school because I would see Alice Cullen. And that was very, very stupid. 

I should be avoiding her entirely after my brainless and embarrassing babbling yesterday. And I was suspicious of her; why should she lie about her eyes? I was still frightened of the hostility I sometimes felt emanating from her, and I was still tongue-tied whenever I pictured her perfect face. I was well aware that my league and hers were spheres that did not touch. So I shouldn't be at all anxious to see her today. 

It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway alive. I almost lost my balance when I finally got to the truck, but I managed to cling to the side mirror and save myself. Clearly, today was going to be nightmarish. 

Driving to school, I distracted myself from my fear of falling and my unwanted speculations about Alice Cullen by thinking about Mike and Eric, and the obvious difference in how teenage boys responded to me here. I was sure I looked exactly the same as I had in Phoenix. Maybe it was just that the boys back home had watched me pass slowly through all the awkward phases of adolescence and still thought of me that way. Perhaps it was because I was a novelty here, where novelties were few and far between. Possibly my crippling clumsiness was seen as endearing rather than pathetic, casting me as a damsel in distress. Whatever the reason, Mike's puppy dog behavior and Eric's apparent rivalry with him were disconcerting. I wasn't sure if I didn't prefer being ignored. 

My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to carve a path of destruction through Main Street. 

When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the back of the truck — carefully holding the side for support — to examine my tires. There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Charlie had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. My throat tightened unexpectedly. I wasn't used to being taken care of, and Charlie's unspoken concern caught me by surprise. 

I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound. 

It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled. 

I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing moved in slow motion, the way it does in the movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, and I was able to take in several things at once with startling clarity. 

Alice Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in something closer to horror than shock. Her face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and I was standing between them. I didn't even have time to close my eyes. 

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck's bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I expected. My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd parked next to. But I didn't have a chance to notice anything else, because the van was still coming. It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with me again. 

A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice was impossible not to recognize. Two white hands shot out in front of me, impossibly fast, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the hands fitting perfectly into a deep dent in the side of the van's body. 

Then her hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag dolls, till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt — exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been. 

It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Alice Cullen's low, frantic voice in my ear. 

"Bella? Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine." My voice sounded strange. I tried to sit up and realized she was holding me against the side of her body in an iron grasp. 

"Be careful," she warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard." 

I became aware of a throbbing ache centered above my left ear. 

"Ow," I said, surprised. 

"That's what I thought." Her voice, amazingly, sounded maternal and concerned. 

"How in the…" I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings. "How did you get over here so fast?" 

"I was standing right next to you, Bella," she said, her tone calm, too calm.  

I turned to sit up, and this time she let me, releasing her hold around my waist and sliding as far from me as she could in the limited space. I looked at her concerned, innocent expression and was disoriented again by the force of her gold-colored eyes. What was I asking her? 

And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at us. 

"Don't move," someone instructed. 

"Get Tyler out of the van!" someone else shouted. There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Alice’s cold hand pushed my shoulder down. 

"Just stay put for now." 

"But it's cold," I complained. It surprised me when she took off her jacket wrapping it around me like a blanket. 

"You were over there," I suddenly remembered. "You were by your car." 

Her expression hardened instantly. "No, I wasn't." 

"I saw you." All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffer voices of adults arriving on the scene. But I obstinately held on to our argument; I was right, and she was going to admit it. 

"Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." She unleashed the full, devastating power of her eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something crucial. 

"No." I set my jaw. 

The gold in her eyes blazed. "Please, Bella." 

"Why?" I demanded. 

"Trust me," she said softly, the words somehow impossible to ignore. 

I could hear the sirens now. "Will you promise to explain everything to me later?" 

"Fine," she snapped, abruptly exasperated. 

"Fine," I repeated angrily. 

It took six EMTs and two teachers — Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp — to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Alice vehemently refused treatment, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion. I almost died of humiliation when they put on the neck brace. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Alice got to ride in the front. It was maddening. 

To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get me safely away. 

"Bella!" He yelled in panic when he recognized me on the stretcher. 

"I'm completely fine, Char—Dad," I sighed. "There's nothing wrong with me." 

He turned to the closest EMT for a second opinion. I tuned him out to consider the jumble of inexplicable  images churning chaotically in my head. When they'd lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper — a very distinct dent that fit the contours of Alice’s shoulders… as if she had braced herself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame… 

And then there was her family, looking from the distance, with expressions that ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their sister’s safety. 

 I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen — a solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane. 

Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. I felt ridiculous the whole time they were unloading me. What made it worse was that Alice simply walked through the hospital doors under her own power graceful as ever. I ground my teeth together. 

They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue. Since no one bothered pulling the curtain around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn't obligated to wear the stupid-looking neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, I quickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed. 

There was another flurry of hospital personnel; another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. Tyler looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But he was staring anxiously at me. 

"Bella, I'm so sorry!" 

"I'm fine, Tyler — you look awful, are you all right?" As we spoke, nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and left cheek. 

He ignored me. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong…" He winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face. 

"Don't worry about it; you missed me." 

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone…" 

"Umm… Alice pulled me out of the way." 

He looked confused. "Who?" 

"Alice Cullen — she was standing next to me." I'd always been a terrible liar; I didn't sound convincing at all. 

"Cullen? I didn't see her… wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is she okay?" 

"I think so. She’s here somewhere, but they didn't make her use a stretcher." 

I knew I wasn't crazy. What happened? There was no way to explain what I'd seen. 

They wheeled me away then, to X-ray my head. I told them there was nothing wrong, and I was right. Not even a concussion. I asked if I could leave, but the nurse said I had to talk to a doctor first. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting—harassed by Tyler’s constant apologies and promises to make it up to me. No matter how many times I told him I was fine, he continued to torment himself. Finally, I closed my eyes and ignored him. He kept up a low, remorseful mumble. 

"Is she sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open. 

Alice was standing at the foot of my bed, smirking. I glared at her. It wasn't easy — it would have been far more natural to ogle. 

"Hey, Alice, I'm really sorry —" Tyler began. 

Alice lifted her hand to stop him. 

"No blood, no foul," she said, flashing her brilliant teeth. She moved to sit on the edge of Tyler's bed, facing me. She smirked again. 

"So, what's the verdict?" She asked me. 

"There's nothing wrong with me at all, but they won't let me go," I complained. "How come you aren't strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?” 

"It's all about who you know," she answered. "But don't worry, I came to spring you." 

Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was young. He was blond… and he was handsomer than any movie star I’d ever seen. He was pale, though and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Charlie's description, this had to be Alice’s father. 

"So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice, "how are you feeling?" 

"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped. 

He walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head and turned it on. 

"Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Alice said you hit it pretty hard." 

"It's fine," I repeated with a sigh, throwing a quick scowl toward Alice. 

The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when I winced. 

"Tender?" He asked. 

"Not really." I'd had worse. 

I heard a tiny laugh and looked over to see Alice’s patronizing smile. My eyes narrowed. 

"Well, your father is in the waiting room — you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all." 

"Can't I go back to school?" I asked, imagining Charlie trying to be attentive. 

"Maybe you should take it easy today." 

I glanced at Alice. "Does she get to go to school?" 

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Alice said smugly. 

"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting room." 

"Oh no," I moaned, covering my face with my hands. 

Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?" 

"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly — I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked concerned. 

"I'm fine," I assured him again. No need to tell him my balance problems had nothing to do with hitting my head. 

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied me. 

"It doesn't hurt that bad," I insisted. 

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed my chart with a flourish. 

"Lucky Alice happened to be standing next to me," I amended with a hard glance at the subject of my statement. 

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Then he looked away, at Tyler, and walked to the next bed. My intuition flickered uneasily the doctor was in on it. 

"I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with us just a little bit longer," he said to Tyler, and began checking his cuts. 

As soon as the doctor’s back was turned, I moved to Alice’s side. 

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I hissed under my breath. She took a step back from me, her jaw suddenly clenched. 

"Your father is waiting for you," she said through her teeth. 

I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler. 

"I'd like to speak with you alone, if you don't mind," I pressed. 

She glared and then turned her back and strode down the long room. I nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, she spun around to face me. 

"What do you want?" she asked, sounding annoyed. Her eyes were cold. 

Her unfriendliness intimidated me. My words came out with less severity than I'd intended. "You owe me an explanation," I reminded her. 

"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything." 

I flinched back from the resentment in her voice. "You promised." 

"Bella, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." Her tone was cutting. 

My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at her. "There's nothing wrong with my head." 

She glared back. "What do you want from me, Bella?" 

"I want to know the truth," I said. "I want to know why I'm lying for you." 

"What do you think happened?" She snapped. 

It came out in a rush. 

" All I know is that you weren’t anywhere near me—Tyler didn’t see you either, so don’t tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both—and it didn’t. Your hands left dents on the side of it—you left a dent in the other car—and you’re not hurt at all. The van should have smashed my legs… but you were holding it up..." I could hear how crazy it sounded, and I couldn't continue. I was so angry I could feel the tears coming; I forced them back, grinding my teeth. 

She was staring at me incredulously. But her face was tense and defensive. 

"You think I lifted a van off you?" Her tone questioned my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor. 

I merely nodded once, jaw tight. 

"Nobody will believe that, you know." Her voice held an edge of derision now. 

"I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word slowly, carefully controlling my voice. 

Surprise flitted across her face. "Then why does it matter?" 

"It matters to me," I insisted. "I don't like to lie — so there'd better be a good reason why I'm doing it." 

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?" 

"Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant. 

"You're not going to let it go, are you?" 

"No." 

"In that case… I hope you enjoy disappointment." 

We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in danger of being distracted by her livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a fallen angel. 

"Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly. 

She paused, and for a moment her stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable. 

"I don't know," she whispered. 

And then she turned her back on me and walked away. 

I was so angry, it took me a few minutes until I could move. When I could walk, I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway.  

The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Charlie rushed to my side; I put up my hands. 

"There's nothing wrong with me," I assured him sullenly. I was still aggravated, not in the mood for the chitchat. 

"What did the doctor say?" 

"Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home." I sighed. Mike and Jessica and Eric were all there, beginning to converge on us. "Let's go," I urged. 

Charlie put one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and led me to the glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends, hoping to convey that they didn't need to worry anymore. It was a huge relief— the first time I'd ever felt that way — to get into the cruiser. 

We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew Charlie was there. I was positive that Alice’s defensive behavior in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could hardly believe I'd witnessed. 

When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke. 

"Um… you'll need to call Renée." He hung his head, guilty. 

I was appalled. "You told Mom!" 

"Sorry." 

I slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out. 

My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least thirty times before she would calm down. She begged me to come home — forgetting the fact that home was empty now — but her pleas were easier to resist than I would have thought. I was consumed by the mystery Alice presented. And more than a little obsessed by Alice herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I wasn't as eager to escape Forks as I should be, as any normal, sane person would be. 

I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Charlie continued to watch me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves. I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. They did help, and, as the pain eased, I drifted to sleep. 

That was the first night I dreamed of Alice Cullen. 

Chapter Text

IN MY DREAM, IT WAS VERY DARK, AND WHAT DIM LIGHT THERE seemed to radiate from Alice’s skin. I couldn’t see her face—only her back as she walked away from me, leaving me in the darkness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t catch up to her; no matter how loudly I called, she never turned. Troubled, I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t fall back asleep for what felt like hours. After that, she was in my dreams nearly every night always just out of reach, always at the edge of everything. 

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing. 

To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week. Tyler Crowley was impossible following me around, determined to make amends somehow. I tried to convince him that what I wanted more than anything was for him to forget all about it—especially since nothing had actually happened to me—but he remained insistent. He trailed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. Mike and Eric were even less friendly toward him than they were to each other, which made me worry I’d gained another unwelcome admirer. 

No one seemed concerned about Alice, though I explained repeatedly that she was the hero—that she had pulled me out of the way and nearly been crushed herself. I tried to sound convincing. Jessica, Mike, Eric, and everyone else always said they hadn’t even seen her there until after the van was moved. 

I wondered why no one else had noticed her standing so far away before she was suddenly impossibly there, saving my life. With a flush of embarrassment, I realized the most likely answer: no one else watched her the way I did. No one else noticed her the way I always had. How pitiful. 

Alice was never surrounded by curious bystanders eager for her version of events. People avoided her, as usual. The Cullens sat at the same table as always, not eating, speaking only to each other. None of them, especially Alice, looked my way anymore. 

When she sat beside me in class, still as far from me as the table allowed, she kept her attention fixed ahead, as if I weren’t there at all. And yet… every so often, her hands would tighten into fists, her skin stretching pale over the bones, and I couldn’t quite believe she was as unaware of me as she pretended to be. 

She wished she hadn’t pulled me out of the path of Tyler’s van. There was no other conclusion I could come to.

I wanted to talk to her more than I wanted to admit. The day after the accident, I tried. The last time I’d seen her, outside the ER, we’d both been furious. I still was, in some ways, angry that she wouldn’t trust me with the truth, even though I was keeping my side of the bargain. But she saved my life. No matter how she’d done it. And overnight, the sharp edge of my anger had softened into something closer to awe. 

She was already seated when I got to Biology, staring straight ahead. I sat down, waiting for her to turn toward me. She didn’t. 

“Hello, Alice,” I said lightly, careful, trying to show her I wasn’t going to push. 

She turned her head just slightly not enough to meet my eyes. A small nod. And then she looked away again. That was it. 

The last real acknowledgment I had from her despite the fact that she sat less than a foot away from me, every single day. 

The last real acknowledgment I had from her despite the fact that she sat less than a foot away from me every single day. I watched her sometimes, unable to stop myself—from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or parking lot. I noticed the way her golden eyes grew subtly darker day by day. But in class, I gave no sign that she existed no more than she gave me. I was miserable. And the dreams continued. 

Despite my careful lies, the tone of my emails must have given me away. Renée called a few times, worried. I tried to convince her it was just the weather that had me feel down. 

Mike, at least, seemed reassured by the obvious distance between me and my lab partner. I could tell he’d been worried that Alice’s rescue might have impressed me—and he seemed relieved when it appeared to have had the opposite effect. He grew more confident, perching on the edge of my table before Biology, talking easily, ignoring Alice as completely as she appeared to ignore us. 

The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Mike was disappointed he never had his snowball fight but pleased that the beach trip might finally happen. The rain, however, continued relentlessly, and the weeks passed. 

Jessica reminded me of another event looming on the horizon—she called the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike to the girls’ choice spring dance in two weeks. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind… you weren’t planning to ask him?” She pressed when I told her I didn’t mind in the least. 

“No, Jess, I’m not going,” I assured her. Dancing was well outside my range of abilities. 

“It’ll be really fun.” Her attempt to convince me was halfhearted. I suspected Jessica enjoyed my inexplicable popularity more than my actual company. 

“You have fun with Mike,” I encouraged. 

The next day, I was surprised when Jessica wasn’t her usual animated self in Trig or Spanish. She walked beside me in silence between classes, and I didn’t dare ask why. If Mike had turned her down, I was the last person she’d want to confide in. 

My suspicion only deepened at lunch, when Jessica sat as far from Mike as possible, chatting brightly with Eric. Mike was unusually quiet. 

He stayed quiet as he walked me to class, the tension in his expression unmistakable. But he didn’t bring it up until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was acutely aware of Alice close enough to touch, and yet as distant as if she existed in an entirely separate world. 

“So,” Mike said, staring at the floor, “Jessica asked me to the spring dance.” 

“That’s great.” I forced brightness into my voice. “You’ll have a lot of fun with Jessica.” 

“Well…” He hesitated, studying my expression like he was searching for something that wasn’t there. “I told her I needed to think about it.” 

“Why would you do that?” I let a note of disapproval slip into my tone, though. Privately, I was relieved he hadn’t turned her down outright. 

His face flushed red as he looked down again. Pity weakened my resolve. 

“I was wondering if… well, if you were planning to ask me.” 

I hesitated, a wave of guilt rising uncomfortably. And then from the corner of my eye I saw Alice’s head tilt slightly in my direction. Not looking at me, but listening. 

“Mike, I think you should tell her yes,” I said. 

“Did you already ask someone?” His eyes flickered, just briefly, toward Alice. 

“No,” I said. “I’m not going to the dance at all.” 

“Why not?” Mike pressed. 

I didn’t want to explain the very real safety risks dancing posed, so I improvised. 

“I’m going to Seattle that Saturday,” I said. The idea came easily and I needed to get out of town anyway. 

“Can’t you go another weekend?” 

“Sorry, no.” I shook my head. “So, you shouldn’t make Jess wait—it’s not fair to her.” 

“Yeah… you’re right,” he muttered, turning away, dejected, and heading back to his seat. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push away the guilt. Mr. Banner began speaking. I sighed and opened my eyes. 

And Alice was watching me curiously that same familiar edge of frustration lingered in her now-darkened eyes, but something else was there, too.  Like she was frustrated for some reason. 

I stared back, surprised, expecting her to look away immediately. But she didn’t. 

Her gaze held mine—intent, searching, almost invasive in its intensity. There was no question of looking away. My hands began to tremble. 

“Ms. Cullen?” The teacher prompted, waiting for an answer I hadn’t even heard. 

“The Krebs Cycle,” Alice replied. Almost absently, her voice quiet as she turned toward Mr. Banner. 

The moment her eyes left mine, I dropped my gaze, struggling to find my place in my book. Out of habit cowardly as ever I pulled my hair over my shoulder to hide behind it. I couldn’t believe the rush of emotion still pulsing through me just because she had looked at me. For the first time in weeks. I couldn’t let her have that kind of effect on me. It was pathetic. Worse than pathetic, it was unhealthy. 

I spent the rest of the hour trying not to be aware of her. Since that was impossible, I settled for trying not to let her know that I was. When the bell finally rang, I turned my back to her, gathering my things quickly, expecting her to disappear as she always did. 

“Bella?” Her voice shouldn’t have felt so familiar—like something I’d known all my life instead of just a few weeks. 

I turned slowly, reluctantly. I didn’t want to feel what I knew I would when I looked at her. My expression was guarded. Hers… unreadable. She didn’t speak. 

“What?” I asked finally, unable to keep the edge out of my voice. “Are you speaking to me again?” 

Her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile she didn’t quite allow. “No,” she said softly. “Not really.” 

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, aware that I was grinding my teeth together. She waited. 

“Then what do you want, Alice?” I asked, keeping my eyes closed. It was easier to think that way. 

“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet but sincere. “I’m being rude. I know that. But…” She hesitated, and for just a second, something uncertain flickered across her face. “It’s better this way.” 

I opened my eyes. She was watching me carefully now. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, my voice guarded. 

“It’s better if we’re not friends,” she said. “Trust me.” 

My eyes narrowed. I’ve heard that before. 

“It’s too bad you didn’t figure that out sooner,” I said sharply. “You could’ve saved yourself all this regret.” 

“Regret?” The word seemed to catch her off guard. “Regret for what?” 

“For not just letting that stupid van crush me.” 

She froze. Shock flashed across her face genuine, unguarded. 

When she spoke again, her voice was tighter. “You think I regret saving your life?” 

“I know you do,” I shot back. 

Something in her expression changed like it hurt her somehow. “You don’t know anything,” she said quietly. 

I turned away from her, jaw clenched against everything else I wanted to say. I gathered my books and stood, heading for the door. I meant to leave with some dignity but of course I caught my boot on the doorframe and sent everything crashing to the floor. I stood there for a second, considering just walking away. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. She was already there. Faster than she should have been. The books were stacked neatly in her hands before I’d even reached them. She held them out to me, her expression carefully composed. 

“Thank you,” I said stiffly. 

Her eyes flickered with something unreadable passing through them. 

“You’re welcome,” she replied. 

I took the books quickly and turned away again, heading for Gym without another glance. 

Gym was brutal. We’d moved on to basketball. My team wisely avoided passing me the ball, which helped but I still managed to fall more often than I’d like. Occasionally, I took someone down with me. Today was worse than usual. Because no matter how hard I tried to focus on my feet, on the floor, on anything Alice kept finding her way back into my thoughts. 

It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck—there were just too many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. I’d replaced the taillights, and if it had ever had a real paint job, I might have touched that up, too. Tyler’s parents had ended up selling their van for parts. 

I nearly had a heart attack when I rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against my truck. Then I realized it was just Eric. I slowed, forcing myself to keep walking. 

“Hey, Eric,” I called. 

“Hi, Bella.” 

“What’s up?” I asked, unlocking the door. I missed the nervous edge in his voice, so his next words caught me completely off guard. 

“Uh… I was wondering if you’d go to the spring dance with me?” His voice cracked on the last word. 

“I thought it was girls’ choice,” I said, too surprised to soften it. 

“Well, yeah,” he admitted, flushing. 

I recovered quickly, forcing a warmer smile. “Thank you for asking, but I’m going to be in Seattle that day.” 

“Oh.” He nodded and deflated. “Well… maybe next time.” 

“Sure,” I said automatically then winced inwardly. Hopefully he won’t take that too seriously. 

He slouched off toward the school. A tiny laugh followed him. Alice. 

She walked past the front of my truck without looking at me; her lips pressed together like she was trying not to laugh. I yanked the door open and climbed inside, slamming it harder than necessary. The engine roared to life as I backed out only to have Alice’s Porsche glide smoothly into the lane in front of me, cutting me off. Of course. She stopped there, waiting for her family. I could see Rosalie and Emmett heading toward the car from across the lot. I briefly considered ramming the back of her stupidly perfect car—but there were too many witnesses. I checked the rearview mirror. A line was already forming behind me. Directly behind me, Tyler Crowley sat in his newly acquired used Sentra, waving enthusiastically. I ignored him. 

A knock sounded on my passenger-side window. I turned. Tyler. I glanced back at the mirror; his car was still running, door wide open. I leaned across the seat and wrestled the window down. It stuck halfway. I gave up. 

“I’m sorry, Tyler, I’m stuck behind Cullen,” I said, irritated. Obviously, this wasn’t my fault. 

“Yeah, I know—I just wanted to ask you something while we’re trapped here.” He grinned. 

This could not be happening. 

“Will you ask me to the spring dance?” 

“I’m not going to be in town, Tyler.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. 

“Yeah, Mike said that” he admitted. 

“Then why—” 

He shrugged. “I was hoping you were just letting him down easy.” 

Okay, it was completely his fault. 

“Sorry, Tyler,” I said, trying to smooth the edge out of my voice. “I really am going out of town.” 

“That’s cool. We still have prom.” 

And before I could respond, he was already heading back to his car. I sat there, stunned. I glanced forward just in time to see Rosalie and Emmett slide into the Porsche. In the rearview mirror, Alice’s eyes were bright, unmistakably amused. She was laughing. Not subtly, either. 

My foot hovered over the gas pedal. One small bump wouldn’t hurt anything—just that ridiculous, glossy paint job. I revved the engine. 

But they were already pulling away; Alice’s car slipping smoothly out of the lot. I drove home slowly, muttering under my breath the entire way. 

When I got home, I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner. It was a long process—perfect for keeping my hands busy. While I was sautéing onions and chilies, the phone rang. I hesitated before answering. But it could be either Charlie or my mom. 

It was Jessica, and she was ecstatic. Mike caught her after school to accept her invitation. I celebrated with her while stirring, offering the appropriate enthusiasm. She had to go almost immediately—Angela and Lauren were next to call on her list. Before she hung up, I casually suggested that maybe Angela could ask Eric… and Lauren could ask Tyler. Jess thought that was brilliant. Now that she had Mike secured, she even sounded sincere when she said she wished I would go to the dance. I gave her my Seattle excuse again. 

After I hung up, I tried to focus on dinner—especially while dicing the chicken. I had no intention of ending up back in the emergency room. But my thoughts wouldn’t cooperate. They kept circling back. To her. It’s better if we’re not friends. What did that even mean?  

My stomach twisted as the answer slowly settled into place. She knew. She must see how… aware I was of her. How easily I got pulled in. She didn’t want to encourage it, so we couldn’t even be friends. …if she even liked girls. I froze, knife hovering mid-air. Did she like girls? Did I like girls? Or just… Her? I swallowed hard. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t interested in me. Not like that. Not in any way. 

Of course she wasn’t. I wasn’t interesting. And she was— interesting… and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect… and beautiful… and possibly capable of lifting full-sized vans with one hand. 

I exhaled sharply. Fine. I could leave her alone. I would leave her alone. I’d survive my self-imposed sentence here in purgatory, and then maybe, hopefully some school in the Southwest… or Hawaii… would offer me a scholarship. I focused hard on images of sunlight—beaches, palm trees, heat—as I finished the enchiladas and slid them into the oven. 

Charlie looked suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn’t blame him—the closest decent Mexican food was probably somewhere in southern California. But he was a cop—even if just a small-town one—so he bravely took the first bite. He liked it. It was oddly satisfying to watch him slowly begin to trust me in the kitchen. 

“Dad?” I asked when he was nearly finished. 

“Yeah, Bella?” 

“Um… I just wanted to let you know I’m going to Seattle a week from Saturday. For the day… if that’s okay.” I tacked that last part reluctantly. I didn’t want to ask permission—but it felt rude not to. 

“Why?” He asked, surprised, like Forks should already have everything I needed. 

“I want to get some books—the library here is kind of limited. And maybe look at clothes.” I had more money than I was used to having, thanks to Charlie for covering the truck. Not that the truck didn’t make up for that in gas. 

“That truck probably doesn’t get great mileage,” he said, echoing my thoughts. 

“I’ll stop in Montesano and Olympia- and Tacoma if I have to.” 

“You’re going by yourself?” I couldn’t tell if he was worried about the car, or something else entirely. 

“Yeah.” 

“Seattle’s a big city. You could get lost.” 

“Dad, Phoenix is five times bigger. I’ll be fine.” 

He hesitated. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

I worked very hard to hide my horror. 

“That’s okay. I’ll probably just be in dressing rooms all day. Very boring.” That did it. 

“Oh. Okay.” 

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. 

“Will you be back in time for the dance?” 

Grrr. Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were. 

“No. I don’t dance, Dad.” 

He nodded immediately. “Right.” 

The next morning, I parked as far away as possible from the yellow Porsche. I wasn’t risking it. Getting out, I fumbled with my keys and of course dropped them straight into a puddle. I bent to grab them, and a white hand flashed out, snatching them before I could. I jerked upright. Alice Cullen stood beside me, leaning casually against my truck. 

“How do you do that?” I demanded equal parts amazed and irritated. 

“Do what?” She asked, holding my key out between us. As I reached for it, she dropped it lightly into my palm. 

“Appear out of thin air.” 

“Bella, it’s not my fault you’re exceptionally unobservant.” Her voice was soft and velvet smooth. 

I scowled at her perfect face. Her eyes were light again today, a deep, molten gold. I had to look away before I lost my train of thought entirely. 

“Why the traffic jam last night?” I demanded, still not meeting her gaze. “I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don’t exist, not irritating me to death.” 

“That was for Tyler’s sake, not mine,” she said lightly. “I had to give him his chance.” She snickered. 

“You...” I choked, unable to find a word strong enough. My anger burned hot enough that it felt like it should scorch her, but she only looked more amused. 

“And I’m not pretending you don’t exist,” she added. 

“So, you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler’s van didn’t do the job?” 

Something in her expression shifted. The humor vanished. 

“Bella,” she said quietly, “it’s not like that. Not at all.” 

My hands tingled. I wanted so badly to hit something. The realization scared me. I wasn’t violent. I turned sharply and started walking away. 

“Wait.” I didn’t. The rain soaked through my jacket as I kept going, but she was beside me in an instant, matching my pace effortlessly. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I’m always rude.” I ignored her. 

“Seriously,” she added, a hint of dry humor returning, “it’s just so cute seeing you frustrated.” 

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” I muttered. 

“Because I wanted to ask you something,” she said, almost lightly again. “But you sidetracked me.” 

I shot her a look. “Do you have a multiple personality disorder or something?” 

One corner of her mouth lifted. “You’re doing it again.” 

I sighed. “Fine. What do you want?” 

“I was wondering if, a week from Saturday—you know, the day of the spring dance—” 

“Are you trying to be funny?” I snapped, spinning toward her. Rain splashed against my face as I glared up at her. 

Her eyes gleamed openly, amused now. “Will you let me finish?” 

I pressed my lips together, clasping my hands tightly so I wouldn’t do something stupid. 

“I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day,” she continued, “and I was wondering if you wanted a ride.” 

That stopped me cold. 

“What?” 

“Do you want a ride to Seattle?” 

“With whom?” I asked, completely thrown. 

“With me,” she said, as if it were obvious. 

I stared at her. “Why?” 

“Because I was planning to go anyway,” she said. “And, frankly, I’m not convinced your truck will survive the trip.” 

“My truck works just fine,” I snapped, starting to walk again though my anger had lost its edge. 

“Can it make it there on one tank of gas?” She asked, falling into step beside me again. 

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“The waste of finite resources is everyone’s business.” 

“Honestly, Alice.” Saying her name sent a sharp, unwelcome thrill through me. I hated that. “I can’t keep up with you. I thought you didn’t want to be my friend.” 

“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends,” she corrected. “Not that I didn’t want to be.” 

“Oh, great. That now that’s all cleared up,” I said flatly. I stopped walking again. We were under the cafeteria overhang now, out of the rain. Which meant I could see her clearly. Which did not help. 

“It would be more… prudent,” she said slowly, “for you not to be my friend.” Her eyes locked onto mine intensely, unguarded. “But I’m tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella." I forgot how to breathe entirely. 

“Will you go with me to Seattle?” She asked softly. 

I couldn’t form words. I nodded. 

Her lips curved in the smallest smile brief, almost private before; her expression turned serious again. 

“You really should stay away from me,” she said quietly. “I’ll see you in class.” 

And then she was gone turning and walking away as abruptly as she always did. 

Chapter Text

I MADE MY WAY TO ENGLISH IN A DAZE. I DIDN’TEVEN REALIZE when I walked in that class had already started. 

“Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan,” Mr. Mason said dryly. 

I flushed and hurried to my seat. 

It wasn’t until class ended that I realized Mike wasn’t in his usual seat beside me. A small stab of guilt hit—but he and Eric were both waiting for me at the door, like always, so I figured I wasn’t completely unforgiven. Mike relaxed as we walked, growing more animated as he talked about the weekend weather report. The rain was supposed to let up—maybe his beach trip would actually happen. I tried to sound enthusiastic, to make up for yesterday. It wasn’t easy. Even without rain, it would still be freezing. 

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was hard to believe I hadn’t imagined what Alice had said or the way she’d looked at me. Maybe it was a dream. That seemed more likely than the idea that I actually meant anything to her. 

At lunch, I was both impatient and uneasy as Jessica and I walked into the cafeteria. I needed to see her. To know if she’d gone back to being distant—cold, untouchable— or if this morning really happened. Jessica chattered beside me about dance plans—Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys, and they were all going together—but I barely heard a word. 

My eyes found her table automatically. And my stomach dropped. She wasn’t there. Only the others. Had she gone home? I followed Jessica through the line, suddenly hollow. I wasn’t hungry—I grabbed a lemonade and nothing else. I just wanted to sit down and maybe sulk a little. 

“Alice Cullen is staring at you again,” Jessica said suddenly, cutting through the fog. “I wonder why she’s sitting alone today.” 

My head snapped up. There she was. Sitting alone at a table across the room and smiling at me. When our eyes met, she lifted one hand and motioned with her index finger, silently calling me over. As I stared in disbelief, she winked. 

“Does she mean you?” Jessica asked, incredulous. 

“Maybe she needs help with her Biology homework,” I muttered, mostly for Jessica’s benefit. “I should… go see what she wants.” 

I could feel her staring after me as I walked away. 

When I reached the table, I hesitated behind the empty chair across from her. 

“Why don’t you sit with me today?” She asked, smiling easily. 

I sat down before I could second-guess myself, watching her warily. She was still smiling. It didn’t seem possible that someone like her was real. For a second, I had the absurd thought that she might vanish, like I’d imagined her. Like I’d wake up. 

She waited. 

“This is different,” I said finally. 

“Well…” She hesitated, and then the rest came out in a quick rush, like she’d decided not to stop herself this time. “I figured if I’m going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.” 

I waited for her to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by. 

“You know I don’t have any idea what you mean,” I said finally. 

“I know.” She smiled again and then, just like that, she changed the subject. “I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you.” 

“They’ll survive.” I could feel their stares burning into my back. 

“I might not give you back,” she said lightly, though there was a wicked glint in her eyes. 

I swallowed. 

She laughed softly. “You look worried.” 

“No,” I said quickly, too quickly. My voice cracked anyway. “Surprised, actually. What brought all this on?” 

“I told you, "She said. “I got tired of trying to stay away from you.” Her eyes held mine now, steady, serious despite the faint smile still on her lips. “So, I’m giving up.” 

“Giving up?” I echoed. 

“Yes.” She tilted her head slightly, her expression shifting to something sharper beneath the calm. “Giving up trying to be good. I’m just going to do what I want… and let the consequences be whatever they are.” The smile faded completely now. 

“You’ve lost me again,” I admitted. 

The dazzling smile returned instantly. 

“I always say too much when I talk to you,” she said lightly. “That’s one of the problems.” 

“Don’t worry,” I said dryly. “I don’t understand any of it.” 

“I’m counting on that.” 

I hesitated. “So, in plain English, are we friends now?” 

“Friends…” she repeated, like she was testing the word. 

“Or not,” I muttered. 

She grinned. “We can try, I suppose. But I’m warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you.” The smile stayed but the warning underneath it didn’t soften. 

“You say that a lot,” I pointed out, forcing my voice to stay steady despite the sudden twist in my stomach. 

“Because you’re not listening,” she said simply. “I’m still waiting for you to believe me.” Her gaze sharpened. “If you were smart, you’d stay away from me.” 

“I think you’ve made your opinion of my intelligence pretty clear,” I said, narrowing my eyes. 

She smiled again this time almost apologetically. 

“So,” I continued, trying to make sense of it, “if I keep being… not smart we’ll trying this ‘friends’ thing?” 

“That sounds about right.” 

I looked down at my hands wrapped around my lemonade bottle, unsure what to do with any of that. 

“I can practically hear you thinking,” she said. 

I looked up and immediately lost whatever thought I’d been holding onto. Her eyes were deep gold again. 

“I’m trying to figure out what you are,” I admitted before I could stop myself. 

Her jaw tightened, just slightly, but she held her smile in place. 

“Any luck?” She asked casually. 

“Not really.” 

She laughed her enchanting laugh. “What are your theories?” 

Heat rushed to my face. I’d spent the last month mentally cycling between ridiculous explanations none of which I was about to say out loud. 

“Won’t you tell me?” She asked, tilting her head, her smile suddenly dangerously persuasive. 

I shook my head quickly. “Too embarrassing.” 

She sighed. “That’s really frustrating, you know.” 

“No,” I shot back, my eyes narrowing. “I can’t imagine why that would be frustrating at all—just because someone refuses to tell you what they’re thinking, while making cryptic little remarks designed to keep you up at night wondering what they mean…” I leaned forward slightly. “Why would that be frustrating?” 

She grimaced. 

“Or better,” I continued, the words spilling out now, “imagine that same person does a whole range of bizarre things from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like you don’t exist the next and never explains any of it. Even after promising.” I crossed my arms. “That, also, would be very not frustrating, right?” She studied me for a second. 

“You’ve got a bit of a temper, don’t you?” 

“I don’t like double standards.” 

We stared at each other, neither of us smiling. 

Then her gaze flicked over my shoulder and, unexpectedly, she snickered. 

“What?” 

“Your boyfriend looks like he’s deciding whether to come over here and rescue you,” she said, clearly amused. “He thinks I’m being mean.” 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I said coolly. “But I’m sure you’re wrong.” 

“I’m not,” she said lightly. “I told you I’ve got most people figured out.” 

“Except me.” 

“Yes,” she said, her tone shifting. “Except you.” Something darker settled in her expression. “I wonder why that is.” 

I had to look away. I focused on twisting the cap off my lemonade, anything to escape the intensity of her stare. I took a long drink, staring down at the table without really seeing it. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” She asked, sounding concerned. 

“No.” I didn’t feel like explaining that my stomach was already full—of nerves. “You?” I gestured to the empty table in front of her. 

“No,” she said, her lips curving faintly, like she was in on a joke I didn’t understand. “I’m not hungry.” 

I hesitated. “Can you do me a favor?” 

She went still instantly cautious. “That depends.” 

“It’s not much,” I said quickly. 

She didn’t relax, but she waited. 

“I just… want a warning next time,” I said, tracing the rim of my bottle with my finger. “Before you decide to ignore me for my own good.” I kept my eyes down. “Just so I’m prepared.” 

“That sounds fair,” she said. I looked up just in time to see her pressing her lips together, trying not to laugh. 

“Thanks,” I muttered. 

“Then I get one answer in return,” she said quickly. 

“One.” 

“Tell me one theory.” 

I groaned under my breath. “Not that one.” 

“You didn’t specify,” she said smugly. 

“You’ve broken promises too,” I shot back. 

“Just one,” she insisted. “I won’t laugh.” 

“Yes, you will.” 

She looked down then back up through her lashes. Her eyes burned. 

“Please?” She said softly, leaning just a little closer.  

My brain completely short-circuited. How did she do that? 

“Uh, what?” I asked dazed. 

“Just one theory,” she murmured. 

“Um… bitten by a radioactive spider?” I offered weakly. 

She scoffed. “That’s not very creative.” 

“It’s all I’ve got,” I said, annoyed. 

“You’re not even close,” she teased. 

“No spiders?” 

“Nope.” 

“No radioactivity?” 

“None.” 

“Dang.” 

She laughed softly. “Kryptonite doesn’t bother me, either.” 

“You’re not supposed to laugh,” I reminded her. 

She struggled to control her expression with visible effort. 

“I’ll figure it out eventually,” I warned and her smile faded. 

“I wish you wouldn’t,” she said quietly. 

“Why?” 

She tilted her head, her expression turning unreadable. “What if I’m not the hero?  What if I’m the bad guy?” Her smile returned but her eyes didn’t. 

“Oh,” I said slowly, pieces clicking into place. “I see.” 

“Do you?” Her voice sharpened. Like she was afraid, I actually might. 

“You’re dangerous?” I guessed. My pulse quickened as the word left my mouth because I knew it was right. She was dangerous. She’d been trying to tell me that all along. She didn’t answer. 

She just looked at me and her eyes filled with something I couldn’t name. 

“But not bad,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, I don’t believe that.” 

“You’re wrong.” Her voice was barely audible. She looked down, picking up my bottle cap and spinning it between her fingers. I watched her, trying to understand why I wasn’t afraid. She meant it—that much was obvious. But instead of fear, I felt… anxious, and more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt around her. 

The silence stretched long enough for me to notice the cafeteria had nearly emptied. 

I jumped to my feet. “We’re going to be late.” 

“I’m not going to class today,” she said, still spinning the cap so fast it blurred. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s healthy to ditch class now and then.” She smiled up at me. But her eyes were still troubled. 

“Well, I’m going,” I said. I wasn’t brave enough to risk it. 

She dropped her gaze back to the cap. “I’ll see you later, then.” 

I hesitated just for a second. Then the bell rang, and I hurried out the door— glancing back once to see that she hadn’t moved at all. 

As I half-ran to class, my thoughts spun faster than the bottle cap in her hand. For every question she’d answered, she’d created ten more. At least the rain had stopped. 

I made it just in time; Mr. Banner hadn’t arrived yet. I slipped into my seat, immediately aware that Mike and Angela were both staring at me. Mike looked annoyed and Angela was impressed. 

Mr. Banner entered, juggling a stack of small cardboard boxes. He set them down on Mike’s table, telling him to start passing them around the class. 

“Okay, everyone, take one item from each box,” he continued, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. The sharp snap of the latex made my stomach tighten. “First, an indicator card,” he held it up. “Second, a four-pronged applicator,” he displayed something that looked like a mutilated hair pick. “And third—a sterile micro-lancet.” My stomach dropped. 

“I’ll come around with water for the cards so don’t start yet until I get to you.” He began making his way through the room. “Then you’ll prick your finger…” He grabbed Mike’s hand and jabbed it. Oh no. Cold sweat broke across my forehead. 

“Add a drop of blood to each prong.” He squeezed Mike’s finger until blood welled up. My stomach lurched. 

“Then apply it to the card.” I shut my eyes, the room tilting. 

“The Red Cross is having a blood drive next weekend,” he added cheerfully. His voice felt distant now. 

I leaned forward, pressing my cheek against the cool tabletop, trying to stay conscious. Around me, there were squeals, laughter, and complaints. The sounds blurring together. I tried to just focus on breathing. 

“Bella?” 

Mr. Banner’s voice suddenly right next to me. 

“I already know my blood type,” I mumbled weakly. 

“Are you feeling faint?” 

“Yes, sir.” I should have ditched class with Alice. 

“Can someone take Bella to the nurse?” He called. 

Of course it was Mike. 

“Can you walk?” 

“Yes,” I whispered. I just needed to get out of here. 

Mike slid an arm around my waist, lifting my arm over his shoulder. I leaned into him as we made our way out of the room. 

Mike half-dragged me across campus. When we reached the edge of the cafeteria out of sight of Building Four, I stopped. 

“Please just let me sit for a minute,” I begged. 

He helped me down onto the edge of the walkway. 

“And whatever you do,” I added weakly, “keep your hand in your pocket.” I was still dizzy. I slumped sideways, pressing my cheek against the cold, damp cement, and closing my eyes. That helped me a little. 

“Wow, you’re green, Bella,” Mike said nervously. 

“Bella?” another voice called from a distance. 

No. Please let me imagine that voice. 

“What’s wrong? Is she hurt?” She sounded horrified and upset. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. Maybe I could just die. Or at least not throw up. 

“I think she fainted,” Mike said quickly. “I don’t know what happened she didn’t even stick her finger.” 

“Bella.” Alice’s voice was right beside me now relieved. “Can you hear me?” 

“No,” I groaned. “Go away.” 

She exhaled softly like she’d been holding her breath. 

“I was taking her to the nurse,” Mike added, defensive. “But she wouldn’t go any farther.” 

“I’ll take her.” There was relief in her voice. And something else tighter. “You can go back to class.” 

“No,” Mike protested. “I’m supposed to do it.” 

The ground vanished beneath me. My eyes snapped open. Alice had lifted me effortlessly. 

“Put me down!” I protested weakly. Please, please don’t let me throw up on her. She was already moving. 

“Hey!” Mike called from somewhere behind us. 

Alice ignored him completely. “You look awful,” she said with her voice softer now. She held me carefully away from her body, supporting all my weight without effort. It didn’t even seem to strain her. 

“Put me back on the sidewalk,” I moaned. The motion wasn’t helping. 

“So, you faint at the sight of blood?” She asked. 

There was unmistakable amusement in her tone. 

I didn’t answer. I clamped my lips shut and focused on not being sick. 

“And not even your own blood,” she added. 

Somehow, she opened the door while still carrying me. Warm air hit my face so I could tell we were inside. 

“Oh my,” a voice gasped. 

“She fainted in Biology,” Alice explained calmly. 

I opened my eyes. I was in the office. Alice strode past the front desk while Ms. Cope hurried ahead to open the nurse’s door. The nurse looked up, startled, as Alice carried me in and laid me gently on the cot. Then she stepped far back, pressing herself against the opposite wall. Her expression was a strange mix of amusement and restraint. 

“She’s just a little faint,” Alice said smoothly. “They’re blood typing in Biology.” 

The nurse nodded knowingly. “There’s always one.” 

“Just lie still for a minute, honey. It’ll pass.” 

“I know,” I muttered. The nausea was already fading. 

“Does this happen often?” 

“Sometimes,” I admitted. Alice gave a small shake of her head. 

“You can go back to class now,” the nurse told her. 

“I’m supposed to stay with her,” Alice said. Her tone was so certain that even though the nurse hesitated she didn’t argue. 

“I’ll get you some ice,” the nurse said, bustling out. 

“You were right,” I murmured once we were alone. 

“I usually am,” she replied lightly. “But about what, specifically?” 

“Ditching is healthy.” I focused on steady breathing. 

“You scared me,” she admitted finally. It sounded like she hated admitting it. “I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods.” 

“Ha. Ha.” I kept my eyes closed, but I felt more like myself every second. 

“Honestly,” she continued, “I’ve seen corpses with better color.” 

“Poor Mike,” I said. “He’s probably mad.” 

“He absolutely loathes me,” she said cheerfully. 

“You can’t know that” I argued then hesitated. Could she? 

“I saw his face,” she said. “It was obvious.” 

I opened my eyes. 

“How did you even see me?” I asked. “I thought you were ditching.” 

“I was in my car. Listening to music.” Such a normal answer, it threw me off completely. 

I heard the door open and lifted my eyes to see the nurse holding a cold compress. 

“Here you go, dear.” She placed it gently across my forehead. “You’re looking better.” 

“I think I’m fine,” I said, sitting up slowly. Just a faint ring in my ears, no spinning. The mint-green walls stayed where they belonged. 

She looked like she was about to insist I lie back down but the door opened again. 

“We’ve got another one,” Ms. Cope called. 

I slid off the cot immediately. 

“Here,” I said, handing the compress back. “I don’t need this.” 

Mike stumbled in a second later, supporting a pale Lee Stephens. Alice and I stepped back against the wall to give them room. 

“Oh no,” Alice muttered under her breath. “Go out to the office, Bella.” 

I blinked at her. “What?” 

“Trust me. Go.” 

That was enough. I turned quickly, catching the door before it swung shut and slipped out into the office. Alice right behind me. 

“You actually listened to me,” she said, almost surprised. 

I wrinkled my nose. “I smelled the blood.” 

“People can’t smell blood,” she contradicted. 

“Well, I can,” I shot back. “That’s what makes me sick. It smells like rust... and salt.” 

She stared at me. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Nothing.” 

The door opened again and Mike stepped out, glancing at us. The look he gave Alice— yeah. Loathing might have been the right word. He turned back to me, frowning. 

“You look better,” he accused. 

“Just keep your hand in your pocket,” I reminded him. 

“It’s not bleeding anymore,” he muttered. “Are you going back to class?” 

“Are you kidding? I’d just have to turn around and come right back.” 

“Yeah, I guess...So are you going this weekend? To the beach?” While he spoke, his eyes flicked toward Alice again like he wasn’t sure how much he should say in front of her. 

I forced a smile. “Sure. I said I was in.” 

“We’re meeting at my dad’s store at ten.” His eyes flickered to Alice again, wondering if he gave out too much information. His body language made it clear that it wasn’t an open invitation. 

“I’ll be there,” I promised. 

“I’ll see you in Gym, then.” He lingered, like he wanted to say something else but didn’t. 

“See you,” I said. He left slowly, shoulders slumping. A wave of guilt followed him out the door. 

“Gym,” I groaned. 

“I can take care of that. I hadn’t even noticed Alice move but suddenly she was right beside me, her voice low near my ear. “Go sit down and look pale,” she murmured. 

That wasn’t exactly a challenge. I dropped into one of the folding chairs and leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes. Fainting always left me drained. 

I heard Alice at the counter. 

“Ms. Cope?” 

“Yes?” 

“Bella has Gym next, and she doesn’t feel well enough. I think I should take her home.” Her voice was smooth—warm, persuasive. “Could you excuse her?” 

“Of course,” Ms. Cope said immediately. “Do you need to be excused too, Alice?” 

“No, I have Mrs. Goff. She won’t mind.” 

“All right, it’s taken care of. Feel better, Bella.” I gave a weak nod, leaning into the performance just a little. 

“Can you walk or do I get to carry you again?” She grinned brightly. 

“I’ll walk.” 

I stood carefully. Still steady. She opened the door for me, her grin slipping into a small pout when I didn’t give her the chance to carry me again. Outside, a fine mist had started to fall. It felt good—cool against my skin, washing away the lingering dizziness. 

“Thanks,” I said as she stepped out beside me. “Honestly, almost worth getting sick to miss Gym.” 

“Anytime.” She stared straight ahead; eyes narrowed slightly against the rain. 

“So, are you going?” I asked. “This Saturday, I mean.” I hoped she would. Even though it felt unlikely. I couldn’t picture her crammed into a car with the rest of the kids from school. She didn’t belong to that world. Still the possibility alone made me feel something close to excitement for the first time. 

“Where exactly are you, all going?” she asked, still staring straight ahead, expression unreadable. 

“La Push. First Beach.” I studied her face. Her eyes narrowed just slightly. 

She glanced at me, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “I really don’t think I was invited.” 

I sighed. “ I just invited you.” 

“Let’s not push poor Mike any further this week,” she said lightly. “We don’t want him to snap.” Her eyes were excited. "At least… not yet.” Her eyes sparkled like she was enjoying the idea more than she should have. 

“Mike-schmike,” I muttered. I was too distracted by the way she said “you and I” I liked that more than I should have. 

We reached the parking lot. I turned automatically toward my truck. Something yanked me backward. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” She demanded. She had a fistful of my jacket. 

“Home?” I said, confused. 

“Didn’t you hear me promise to take you safely home?” She said, scandalized. “Do you really think I’m going to let you drive like this?” 

“Like what?” I protested. “And what about my truck?” 

“Rosalie will bring it later.” She started pulling me toward her car. I stumbled after her, trying not to fall as she dragged me across the wet pavement. She probably wouldn’t have noticed if I had. 

“Let go!” I insisted. She ignored me. We reached the Porsche. She released me just as I lost my balance, and I bumped awkwardly into the passenger door. 

“You are so pushy,” I muttered. 

“It’s open,” she said simply, already sliding into the driver’s seat. 

“I am perfectly capable of driving myself home,” I snapped, standing in the rain. My hair was dripping down my back. 

She rolled the window down and leaned toward me. “Get in, Bella.” 

I hesitated briefly calculating whether I could make it to my truck before she caught me. Not likely. 

“I’ll just drag you back,” she said calmly. 

I got in, but not gracefully. My boots squeaked. 

“This is completely unnecessary,” I said stiffly. 

She didn’t respond, just adjusted the heater and turned the music down. As she pulled out of the lot, I prepared to sulk in silence but then I recognized the music. 

“Clair de Lune?” I asked, surprised. 

“You know Debussy?” She asked, equally surprised. 

“Not well,” I admitted. “My mom plays a lot of classical music I just know the ones I like.” 

“It’s one of my favorites, too.” She stared out through the rain lost in thought for a moment. 

I relaxed in the seat, letting the music wash over me. Outside, the world blurred into gray and green streaks. We were moving faster than it felt. 

“What is your mother like?” She asked suddenly. 

I glanced at her. She was watching me now. 

“She looks like me,” I said. “Just… girlier.” She raised an eyebrow. “She’s more outgoing. Braver. Eccentric.” I smiled faintly. “And a very unpredictable cook.” I hesitated. “We’re… pretty different.” 

The car slowed. I hadn’t even noticed we’d arrived. Rain poured down around us, blurring the house beyond the windshield. “How old are you, Bella?” She asked suddenly. 

I blinked. “Seventeen.” 

“You don’t seem seventeen.” 

I laughed. “My mom says I was born thirty-five and I just keep getting older.” I shrugged. “Someone has to be the adult.” I studied her. “You don’t seem like a high school junior either.” 

She made a face and changed the subject immediately. 

“Why did your mother marry Phil?” 

I blinked, surprised she remembered. “She’s… young for her age,” I said slowly. “I think he makes her feel even younger.” I shook my head. “She’s crazy about him.” 

“Do you approve?” She asked. 

“Does it matter?” I said. “I want her to be happy and he’s who she wants.” 

“That’s very generous,” she murmured. “I wonder…” 

“What?” 

She turned to me, intent. 

“Would she give you the same freedom? No matter who you chose?” 

I faltered. 

“I… think so,” I said uncertainly. “But she’s the parent. It’s different.” 

She tilted her head. “No one too scary, then?” she teased. 

I smiled. “Depends on what you mean by scary. Piercings? Tattoos?” 

“That’s one definition.” 

“What’s yours?” 

She didn’t answer me and asked another question. “Do you think I could be scary?” She asked. One eyebrow lifted. A faint smile touched her lips. 

I considered it. “I think you could be,” I said slowly. “If you wanted to.” 

“Are you afraid of me now?” Her expression went serious completely. 

“No,” I said too quickly. The smile came back. 

“So,” I said quickly, changing the subject, “your family? 

She went still. “What do you want to know?” 

“The Cullens adopted you?” 

“Yes.” 

I hesitated. “What happened to your parents?” 

“They died a long time ago.” Her tone was calm matter of fact. 

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. 

“I don’t remember them,” she said. “So, it’s… okay. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time.” 

“And you love them.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Yes.” She smiled soft and genuine. “I couldn’t imagine better people.” 

“You’re lucky.” 

“I know.” 

“And your brother and foster sister?” 

She glanced at the clock. 

“They’re probably getting annoyed, waiting for me in the rain.” 

“Oh right. Sorry.” I didn’t move. I didn’t want to get out. 

“And you probably want your truck back before your dad gets home,” she added, a grin forming. “So, you don’t have to explain the biology incident.” 

I sighed. “He’s probably already heard it. There are no secrets in Forks.” 

She laughed lightly but edged with something sharper. 

“Have fun at the beach,” she said, glancing out at the downpour. “Perfect weather for sunbathing.” 

“Won’t I see you tomorrow?” 

“No. Rosalie and I are leaving early.” 

“What are you doing?” The question slipped out too quickly. I hoped it didn’t sound like I cared too much. 

“We’re going hiking tomorrow,” she said. “Goat Rocks Wilderness—south of Rainier.” 

I nodded. I remembered Charlie saying the Cullens went camping frequently. 

“Sounds… nice.” 

I tried to sound enthusiastic. I didn’t think I succeeded. Her smile deepened slightly like she noticed. 

“Will you do something for me this weekend?” She turned toward me fully. Her eyes burning. I nodded before I could think. 

“Don’t be offended,” she said lightly, “but you seem to attract accidents.” Her lips curved. “So try not to fall into the ocean… or get run over. All right?” 

The helpless feeling vanished instantly. I glared at her. 

“I’ll do my best,” I snapped. I slammed the door open and stepped out into the rain, slamming it harder than necessary behind me. 

She was still smiling when she drove away. 

Chapter Text

AS I SAT IN MY ROOM, PRETENDING TO CONCENTRATE ON THE THIRD act of Macbeth, I was really listening for my truck. I should have been able to hear it, even over the pounding rain. But when I pulled the curtain back, it was already there. 

I wasn’t looking forward to Friday it lived up to my expectations. Of course, there were fainting jokes. Jessica, especially, seemed delighted by the story. At least Mike had kept quiet about Alice, but that didn’t stop the questions. 

“So, what did Alice Cullen want yesterday?” Jessica asked in Trig. 

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “She never really got to the point.” 

“You looked kind of mad,” she pressed. 

“Did I?” I kept my expression carefully blank. 

“I’ve never seen her sit with anyone but her family,” Jessica went on. “That was weird.” 

“Weird,” I echoed. She sounded disappointed. Like I’d failed to give her something worth repeating. 

The worst part about Friday was that, even knowing she wouldn’t be there, I still looked. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, my eyes went straight to her table. Emmett was sitting there alone. And the disappointment hit harder than it should have. I didn’t even know when I would see her again. 

At our usual table, everyone was busy talking about tomorrow. Mike was animated again, putting a lot of faith in the weatherman’s promise of the sun. I’d believe it when I saw it. It was warmer, though—almost sixty. Maybe it wouldn’t be completely miserable. 

I caught a few unfriendly looks from Lauren during lunch. I didn’t understand why, until we left. I was just behind her, close enough to hear her without meaning to. 

“... don’t know why Bella,” -she sneered my name- “doesn’t just sit with the Cullens now.” Her voice was sharp and a lot meaner than I expected. 

“She’s my friend, she sits with us.” Mike muttered back. There was something territorial in his tone. I slowed my steps, letting Jessica and Angela pass ahead of me. I didn’t want to hear any more. 

That night at dinner, Charlie was unusually enthusiastic about my trip to La Push. I suspected guilt from leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he’d spent too many years building up his habits to break them now. Of course, he knew exactly who was going and their parents, and probably their grandparents, too. He seemed to approve. I wondered what he’d say if he knew about Seattle. I wasn’t planning to find out. 

“Dad,” I said casually, “do you know a place called Goat Rocks? I think it’s south of Mount Rainier.” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Why?” 

I shrugged. “Some kids were talking about camping there.” 

“Not a great place for camping,” He frowned slightly. “Too many bears. Most people only go during hunting season.” 

“Oh,” I said quietly. “Maybe I got the name wrong.” 

I meant to sleep in, but an unfamiliar brightness woke me. I blinked, confused, and turned toward the window. Sunlight. Actual sunlight. I hurried over, half-expecting it to disappear before I got there but it didn’t. The sky was still ringed with clouds, but in the center, there was a wide stretch of blue. The sun sat low, like it wasn’t quite sure it belonged there. Neither was I. I lingered at the window as long as I could, afraid that if I looked away, it would vanish again. 

The Newtons’ Olympic Outfitters store sat just north of town. 

I’d passed it plenty of times but never had much reason to stop—outdoor survival gear wasn’t exactly my specialty. In the parking lot, I recognized Mike’s Suburban and Tyler’s Sentra immediately. As I pulled in beside them, I spotted the group gathered in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with Ben and Conner. Jessica stood between Angela and Lauren, with three other girls nearby including one I vaguely remembered colliding with in Gym on Friday. She gave me a pointed look and leaned into whisper something to Lauren. Lauren tossed her pale hair and looked me over with open disdain. 

So it was going to be those days. 

At least Mike was happy to see me. 

“You came!” he called, grinning. “And I told you it would be sunny!” 

“I told you I was coming,” I reminded him. 

“We’re just waiting for Lee and Samantha,” he said. Then, more casually, “Unless you invited someone?” 

“Nope,” I said lightly. I hoped it sounded convincing, and I hated how much I wished it wasn’t true. 

Mike nodded, satisfied. 

“You want to ride with me? Otherwise, you’re stuck in Lee’s mom’s minivan.” 

“Sure.” 

His smile widened instantly. It was ridiculously easy to make Mike happy. 

“You can have shotgun,” he offered. I winced internally. It wasn’t nearly as easy to make Mike and Jessica happy at the same time. Sure enough, Jessica was already glaring. 

In the end, the numbers worked themselves out. Lee brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat mattered. I managed to squeeze Jessica between Mike and me in the front. Mike wasn’t subtle about it, but at least Jessica seemed appeased. 

It was only fifteen miles to La Push, but the drive was beautiful with dense green forest lining the road, the Quillayute River crossing beneath us more than once. I leaned against the door, grateful for the window. The Suburban was packed—nine people and not nearly enough air. We rolled the windows down, and I tilted my face toward the sun, trying to absorb as much of it as I could. 

I’d been to First Beach before, during summers with Charlie, but it was still breathtaking. The water stretched out in dark gray waves, whitecaps crashing against the rocky shore. Islands rose from the water like jagged silhouettes; their cliffs topped with tall, wind-bent fir trees. Near the water, a narrow strip of sand gave way to endless smooth stones— gray from a distance, but up close, every muted shade imaginable terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, slate blue, dull gold. Driftwood lay scattered along the shore—huge, bleached trunks, some tangled together; others standing alone like forgotten monuments. The wind was sharp and salty, carrying the sound of waves and distant birds. Pelicans floated low on the water while seagulls and a lone eagle circled overhead. The clouds still hovered at the edges of the sky, threatening to close in, but for now the sun held its ground. 

We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading us toward a ring of driftwood logs that had clearly hosted parties like this before. A fire pit sat in the center, filled with old black ash. Eric and Ben gathered broken pieces of driftwood from the drier piles near the forest’s edge, building a careful teepee over the cinders. 

“Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?” Mike asked. I was perched on one of the bleached logs, the other girls clustered around me, talking over each other. 

“No,” I said. Mike crouched by the fire, lighting a small stick with a lighter and tucking it into the base of the structure. 

“Watch the colors.” The flames caught quickly. 

“It’s blue,” I said, surprised. 

“The salt does that,” he said, pleased. “Pretty, right?” He added another piece of kindling, then came to sit beside me. Thankfully, Jessica was on his other side, and turned immediately to him, claiming his attention. I watched the fire instead, the strange blue and green flames snapping upward into the gray sky. 

After a while, some of the boys suggested hiking to the tidal pools nearby. I hesitated because I loved the tide pools. They’d fascinated me since I was little as one of the few things I actually looked forward to when visiting Forks. But I also had a long history of falling into them. Alice’s voice echoed in my head: Try not to fall into the ocean. 

Lauren made the decision for me. She refused to go, her shoes weren’t built for hiking, and most of the other girls followed her lead. I waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to staying behind before quietly standing and joining the group heading into the woods. Mike lit up when he saw me coming. 

The hike wasn’t long, but I missed the sky almost immediately. The forest filtered the light into a deep green glow that felt… wrong, somehow. It clashed with the laughter around me. I had to watch every step avoiding roots below, branches above, and it wasn’t long before I fell behind. Eventually, the trees opened again, and the shoreline came back into view. It was low tide, and a shallow river cut through the rocks, draining toward the sea. Along its edges, pools of trapped water shimmered—small ecosystems left behind by the retreating tide. 

I approached carefully. The others didn’t bother—they leapt from rock to rock, balancing easily. I chose a wide, stable stone near one of the largest pools and lowered myself onto it cautiously. Below me, the water was alive. Anemones bloomed in soft clusters, their colors shifting gently with the current. Hermit crabs scuttled in borrowed shells. Starfish clung to the rocks like unmoving hands. And a small eel—black with thin white stripes—threaded its way through the green strands of seaweed. I lost track of time watching them. Except— there was still that one small part of my mind wondering what Alice was doing. And what she would say if she were here. 

Eventually, the boys declared themselves starving, and we started back. I tried to keep up this time, so naturally, I fell more than once. By the time we reached the beach again, my palms were scraped and my knees were stained green. It could have been worse. 

When we got back to First Beach, the group we’d left behind had grown. 

As we got closer, I noticed the newcomers immediately by their straight black hair and copper skin. They were kids from the reservation who had come to socialize. Food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim their share while Eric introduced us as we filtered back into the driftwood circle as Angela and I were the last to arrive. When Eric said my name, I noticed one of the girls glanced up at me interested. I sat beside Angela while Mike brought us sandwiches and a pile of sodas. A boy who looked like the oldest of the group rattled off introductions, but I only caught a few names like another Jessica, and the girl who noticed me was named Leah. 

Sitting with Angela was easy because she didn’t fill silence just to fill it, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I found myself thinking about how strange time felt in Forks sometimes slipping past in a blur and other times slowing down, with every second sharp and unforgettable. I knew what made the difference, and I didn’t like it. 

The clouds started creeping back in during lunch, sliding across the blue sky and dimming the sunlight in uneven patches. Shadows stretched across the beach, darkening the waves. As people finished eating, they drifted off in small groups with some toward the water, skipping rocks, and others heading back toward the tide pools. Mike headed up toward the little store; Jessica glued to his side, and few of the reservation kids followed. Others disappeared into the trees, so before long, the crowd thinned. I was left sitting alone on the driftwood log, with Lauren and Tyler distracted by the CD player nearby and three of the reservation kids still lingering by the fire including Leah. 

A few minutes after Angela left, Leah pushed herself up from the stones and wandered over. She dropped down beside me like it was the most naturally with a kind of swagger I could only dream of having. She looked about my age seventeen or maybe eighteen. Her long black hair pulled back loosely at the nape of her neck. Her skin was beautiful with a smooth russet-tone; her eyes were dark, set deep beneath sharp cheekbones. A very pretty face. However, my positive opinion of her looks was damaged by the first words out of her mouth. 

“You’re Isabella Swan.” She didn’t ask like it was a question. 

It was like the first day of school all over again. 

I sighed. “It’s just Bella.” 

One corner of her mouth tilted. 

“I’m Leah Clearwater.” She held out her hand firmly, and I took it. 

“Our dads fish together,” she added. “Harry Clearwater.” 

“Oh.” I nodded, relieved. “I should remember you.” 

“Maybe,” she said lightly. “Or maybe you were too busy hating it here.” 

There was a flicker of something in her expression amusement, maybe. 

I huffed a small laugh. “That obvious?” 

“Pretty much.” 

She leaned back on her hands, glancing out toward the water. 

“Don’t worry,” she added. “I didn’t exactly volunteer to be here either.” 

Her tone was easy but there was an edge under it. 

“I won’t be offended if you don’t remember me,” she went on. “Or the excellent mud pies we made together.” 

I blinked as it came back to me. Charlie and Harry had tried to force us into friendship more than once, but we’d all been too shy to make it work. 

“You had a little brother, right?” 

She nodded. “That would be Seth.” 

“How old is he now?” 

“Fourteen.” 

“Fourteen,” I repeated, surprised. “Wow.” He’d been so little the last time I’d seen him. “Is he here too?” I looked out wondering if I would be able to recognize him now. 

Her mouth twitched slightly. “Nah, he’s at that age where being seen with me isn’t cool.” 

“So,” she said finally, “I heard Billy Black sold Charlie his old truck.” 

“I love it,” I said. “It runs great.” 

“Yeah,” Leah huffed a quiet laugh. “But it’s slow.” 

She tipped her head toward me. “You can thank me for that.” 

I blinked. “What?” 

“I’d been doing some work on it for him and Billy tried to pawn it off on me as a graduation gift,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I was relieved when Charlie bought it instead.” 

There was something sharper under her tone. 

“Would’ve saved me from tearing into something better,” she added. 

“It’s not that slow,” I objected. 

She looked at me sideways. “You ever taken it over sixty?” 

“No.” 

“Good. Don’t.” A smirk tugged at her mouth. 

I couldn’t help smiling back. “It does great in a collision,” I offered. 

“Yeah,” she said easily. “Pretty sure a tank would lose to that thing.” 

“So you build cars?” I asked impressed. 

She shrugged. “When I’ve got time. And parts.” 

Her eyes flicked to mine, as she teased me. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a master cylinder for an ’86 Rabbit, would you?” There was a glint of amusement there. 

“Uh… no,” I admitted. “But I’ll keep an eye out.” 

“You know Bella, Leah?” Lauren called from across the fire; her tone edged with something unpleasant. 

Leah didn’t look away from me right away. “Yeah,” she said, easy. “We go way back.” Her gaze flicked sideways, briefly acknowledging Lauren before returning to me. 

“How nice,” Lauren said thinly. Leah ignored her. 

“Bella,” Lauren tried again, watching me carefully. “I was just saying—it’s too bad none of the Cullens could make it today. Didn’t anyone think to invite them?” Her fake concern was almost impressive. 

“You mean Dr. Cullen’s family?” The tall, older boy cut in before I could answer. His voice was very deep, and he sounded more like a man than a boy. 

Lauren turned to him, irritation flashing. “Yes. Do you know them?” 

“The Cullens don’t come here.” He said in a tone that closed the subject, ignoring her question. 

Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren’s opinion on a CD he held. She was distracted. 

I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind us. He’d said the Cullens didn’t come here, but his tone had implied something different, like they weren’t allowed there. His manner left a strange impression on me, and I tried to ignore it without success. 

Leah interrupted my meditation. “So, is Forks driving you insane yet?” 

I exhaled. “That might be an understatement.” 

She huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. That tracks.” 

I hesitated then as I made a decision. It was a bad plan and probably a very obvious one. But I didn’t have anything better. 

“Do you want to walk down the beach with me?” I asked. I tried to copy the way Alice looked at people through her lashes. I was fairly certain it didn’t work the same way. Leah’s eyes flicked over my face. 

“Sure.” She said jumping up but I had the feeling she was definitely not fooled. 

We headed north across the stones, the sky darkening as the clouds finally closed in. The wind picked up, colder now, and I shoved my hands into my pockets. 

“So,” I said, trying again, “you’re what eighteen?” 

I attempted the eyelash thing again. It felt ridiculous. Leah’s mouth twitched. 

“Just turned eighteen.” She glanced at me sideways. 

“Do you come to Forks much?” I pressed, trying to recover. 

“Not really,” she said a faint frown touched her expression. “But once I finish my car I’ll be able to go whenever I want.” 

I nodded, filing that away. 

“Who was that older guy?” I asked. “The one Lauren was talking to?” 

Leah rolled her eyes immediately. “Sam he’s nineteen. He likes to think he’s in charge of everything.” 

“What was that he was saying about the doctor’s family?” I asked, keeping my tone light. 

Leah didn’t answer right away. She looked out toward James Island instead. “The Cullens? They're not supposed to come onto the reservation.” She said finally. So I hadn’t imagined it. 

“Why not?” 

She glanced back at me then bit the inside of her lip. “Yeah… I probably shouldn’t get into that.” 

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said quickly. I softened my voice, letting a little warmth slip in. “I’m just curious.” 

Leah’s gaze lingered on me. “Do you like scary stories?” 

Her voice dropped—lower, quieter. 

“I love them,” I said trying to match her tone though I was pretty sure I failed. 

Leah pushed herself up and wandered over to a massive piece of driftwood, its roots twisted up like the legs of some enormous pale spider. She climbed up easily, settling on one of the raised roots. I followed, sitting lower on the trunk beneath her. Leah looked down at the rocks for a moment, a faint smile playing at the edges of her mouth like she’d already decided how this would go. 

“Do you know any of our old stories? About where we came from?” She asked. 

“Not really,” I admitted. 

She leaned back slightly on her hands, gaze drifting out toward the water again. 

“There are a lot of legends, some people say they go all the way back to the Flood. Like Noah. Boats tied to the tops of the highest trees.” She glanced down at me, just briefly with her tone that made it clear what she thought of those histories. “Others say we came from wolves and that the wolves are still our brothers still. It’s against tribal law to kill them.” 

The wind shifted, colder now. 

Leah’s voice lowered slightly. “And then there are the stories about the cold ones.” 

I didn’t have to fake my interest anymore. “The cold ones?” 

She nodded once. “Stories just as old as the wolf ones. Some… newer. Our last chief knew some of them, Billy Black’s grandfather,” she continued. “He made a treaty with them to kept them off our land.” 

“The cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolves,” she continued. “The kind that turn into men like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves.” 

“Werewolves have enemies?” 

“Only one.” 

I leaned forward slightly “So the cold ones…” I trailed off. 

Leah nodded once tone sharpening slightly. “Traditionally, they’re enemies. But the ones that came here back then were different. They didn’t hunt the same way. Didn’t… kill the same way. At least, that’s what they said. So the truce was made. They stay off our land then we would keep quiet about them to the pale faces.” Her gaze flicked back to mine. 

“If they weren’t dangerous,” I pressed, “then why—” 

Leah cut me off voice quieter now. “There’s always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they’re civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get to hungry to resist.” Leah let the words hang deliberately. 

“What do you mean, civilized?” 

“They claimed they didn’t hunt humans, said they could live off animals instead.” 

I forced my voice to stay even. “So how does that connect to the Cullens? Are they like the cold ones your chief met?” 

Leah paused. “No.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “They are the same ones.” 

My chest tightened. Leah watched me closely. She smiled—pleased. 

“Same family,” she continued. “Just… different now. There’s a new female and one less male. But they’ve been here and gone, long before your people showed up.” 

I barely heard that part. 

“What are they?” I asked quietly. 

Leah’s expression darkened subtly, but unmistakably. 

“Blood drinkers.” Her voice dropped. “What your people call vampires.” 

The word settled between us. I turned toward the ocean not trusting my face. The waves crashed harder now, darker under the closing sky. 

“You’ve got goosebumps,” Leah said, amused. 

“You’re a good storyteller,” I said, keeping my eyes on the water. 

“Yeah?” I could hear the smile in her voice. 

“Pretty crazy, though, right?” she went on. “No wonder my dad doesn’t want us talking about it.” 

I forced myself to breathe evenly. 

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I won’t give you away.” 

“Too late,” she said lightly. “Guess I just broke the treaty.” 

“I’ll take it to the grave.” I shivered. 

“Seriously, though,” she added, more quietly now, “don’t say anything to Charlie. He was already pissed when Dr. Cullen started working at the hospital and he heard some of us weren’t going anymore.” Her mouth tightened slightly. “My mom almost quit over it.” 

“I won’t.” 

“So,” Leah said, tone shifting again, lighter now, “you think we’re all just a bunch of superstitious locals?” 

“No, I think you tell a really good story.” I lifted my arm slightly. “See I still got goosebumps.” 

“Nice.” Her smile sharpened, pleased. 

The sound of shifting rocks broke the moment; both of us looked up at the same time. Mike and Jessica were heading toward us. 

“There you are, Bella!” Mike called. Leah’s gaze flicked to him. 

“That your boyfriend?” she asked, low enough that he couldn’t hear. There was something faintly amused in her voice. 

“No, definitely not.” I leaned slightly closer. “Promise.” Leah’s eyes flicked to mine again smiling. 

“So, when I get my license...” she began. 

“You should come see me in Forks, and we could hang out.” The words felt a little too easy. I felt guilty having used her. Leah smiled satisfied.  

“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe I will.” 

Mike reached us then, eyes flicking between us. 

“Where have you been?” he asked. 

“Leah was telling me some local stories,” I said. “It was really interesting.” 

I smiled at her warmer this time and she grinned back. 

Mike hesitated, reassessing. “We’re packing up,” he said finally. “Looks like rain soon.” 

We all glanced up at the sky had gone dark. 

“Okay,” I said, standing. “I’m coming.” 

“It was nice to see you again,” Leah said. 

Her tone was light, but there was a flicker of something in her expression as her eyes slid past me to Mike. Just enough to make it clear, she was enjoying herself. 

“It really was,” I said. 

“Next time Charlie goes down to see Harry, I’ll come too.” 

Her grin widened. “Yeah, you should.” 

I hesitated for a second. “And thanks.” 

“Anytime, Bella.” 

I pulled my hood up as we started back across the rocks toward the parking lot. Rain had begun to fall slow at first, darkening the stones in scattered spots. By the time we reached the Suburban, everyone was already loading up. I climbed into the backseat beside Angela and Tyler. 

“I already had shotgun,” I said, before Mike could offer. 

Angela just stared out the window at the gathering storm, and Lauren twisted around in the front seat, pulling Tyler’s attention toward her. No one was looking at me, so I was able to lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes trying very hard not to think.