Contents

1. The First Time She Met Him 1

2. The First Time They Danced 6
3. The First Time She Failed Him 12
4. The First Time She Said the S-Word 20
5. The First Time He Called Her His Best Friend 21
6. The First Time They Went On a Date 28
7. The First Time He Kissed Her 37
8. An Interlude: The Introduction of Swirl 41
9. A Farewell to Eight Grade 2001 - 2002 51
10. The First Time She Said the D-Word 59
11. The First Time They Walked Into Forks High 61
12. The First Time They Had “The Talk” 67
13. The First Time She Noticed a Problem 79
14. The First Time They Broke Up 87
15. The First Time She Told Him She Loved Him 101
16. The First Time She Said the A-Word 121
17. A Farewell to Ninth Grade 2002 - 2003 124
18. The First Time She Knew He Was Missing Something 131
19. The First Time He Made a Friend 138
20. The First Time He Stepped Out of His Comfort Zone 151
21. The First Time He Failed 160
22. The First Time She Made a Frenemy 170
23. A Farewell to Tenth Grade 2003 - 2004 192
24. The First Time They Said Goodbye 200
25. The First Time He Staged an Intervention 210
26. The First Time Sex-Ed Was About Sex 228
27. The First Time She Said the F-Word 240
28. The First Time They Picked Up a Stray 243
29. The First Time They Got Drunk 258
30. The First Time She Outsmarted Him 273
31. A Farewell to Eleventh Grade 2004 - 2005 284
32. The First Time She Released Her Inner Crazy 294
33. The First Time She Said the B-Word 312
34. The First Time He Climbed Through Her Window 315
35. The First Time He Proposed 337
36. The First Time They Felt Real Loss 357
37. The First Time 370
38. An Interlude: The Introduction of Daisy 385
39. A Farewell 390
Acknowledgements 401

Outtake. The Boy and His Business Card 404

Outtake. An Anthology of Teenage Angst: Part 1 409
Outtake. An Uncomfortable Conversation and the Assault of Mike Newton 413
Outtake. The Reaffirmation of Edward and Bella as Seen by Carlisle Cullen 424
Outtake. An Anthology of Teenage Angst: Part 2 435
Deleted Scene. Sweatshirts and Their Various Uses 438
Outtake. The First Time He Met Her 440

Any Twilight characters that may appear in this story belong to Stephenie Meyer. The
remainder is my original work. No reproduction is allowed without my written consent.  
 Chapter 1: The First Time She Met Him

The first time I met Edward Cullen I was twelve years old.
He was sitting in front of a computer in first period Yearbook class with a camera
around his neck, furiously sorting through pictures on the monitor in front of him. I couldn't
see much with his head bent down, but it was easy to assume he wanted to be left alone
based off his "vibe."
Renee had described to me exactly what a "vibe" was when I was five years old and
had attempted to kiss Aiden Case for the first time. After being enrolled in ballet class – a
misguided attempt by my mother to give me poise and equilibrium – and being laughed at
daily for my tendency to fall down, I began clinging to Aiden like a life-vest. Every class he
wore a pink tutu like the rest of us, with pink princess shoes that sparkled. I was so jealous
of those shoes, and, yes, I was a little in love with Aiden.
At the end of class, I would go over to Aiden's house and play Barbies with him.
One afternoon, deciding it was time to take our relationship to the next level, I asked Aiden
to marry me. We both wore dresses to the wedding – not exactly what I had imagined, but I
had gotten him to the altar (or, in this case, the Barbie Dream House) and that was really all
that mattered. We professed our love for one another and just as I was leaning in to kiss
him, he scrunched up his nose and began crying.
Our parents found us in that condition, both of us crying because I wanted to kiss
Aiden and Aiden didn't want to kiss me. Renee talked to me about reading the signals people
gave out by their personality and body language, and apparently Aiden didn't give out the
"vibe" that he liked girls in that way. This spawned a rather awkward conversation about
what exactly "that way" was.
That was how I knew that the boy with bronze hair and the camera around his neck
wanted to be left alone. I scanned the room to see what "vibe" the other students were
giving out and then I spotted them – powdering their noses in front of their compact mirrors
like I'd seen those women do in the Covergirl commercials.
There was one girl with short spiky hair layering foundation onto her skin and
another with long blonde hair applying heavy lip-liner, a light shade of pink gloss already on
her lips. The effect was… disenchanting, but she seemed to be pleased with the way she
looked because she snapped her compact mirror shut, slipped her make-up into her purse,
and smiled confidently as she strode over to the boys sitting in the next row.
I felt awkward standing there in my plain grey t-shirt and jeans, my old purple
backpack that I had carried over to Forks from Phoenix slung carelessly from my shoulder;
I'd brought it for good luck, needing all that I could get, because apparently thirteen-year-
olds in Forks wore skirts that went to mid-thigh, carried purses, and donned two-inch high
heels.
I was not getting a good "vibe" from those girls.
I didn't know where to sit exactly, since no one in the room seemed to be giving
welcoming signals. I was the new girl, but I didn't think anyone even noticed I was there.
Just as I thought that, the blonde girl turned her head to look at me with unreceptive ice-
blue eyes. I quickly snapped my head in the other direction and determinately walked
towards the boy with the camera around his neck.
He had to be less intimidating than those other girls. I would take a standoffish, geek
type over a frosty bitch (I mentally slapped my wrist for thinking the word "bitch") any day.

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I only hoped I looked half as confident as the girl with the blonde hair did when she walked
up to those boys. It might have helped if I hadn't almost tripped on the leg of one of the
computer desks.
I approached the boy, but didn't want to startle him – he was staring at the computer
screen rather intently – so, I gave a quiet, "Hello."
No reaction. Apparently he hadn't heard me. I cleared my throat and tried again.
"Hello."
He looked up, his eyes blinking furiously, as if he had a speck of dust in one of them.
Or, I chided myself, as if he had been staring at a computer screen for the last ten minutes and some rude
girl had walked over and interrupted him.
It was then that I realized what a huge mistake I had made by choosing to sit next to
him rather than the Barbie doll in the mini-skirt. Because he clearly was so much hotter than
she was.
I meant he was cute. And he had nice green eyes. And awesome hair.
I was just about to turn around and walk back over to the girls when he asked in a
whisper, "Are you talking to me?" The question in and of itself was a bit rude, but his tone
suggested he was genuinely surprised.
"Um, may I sit next to you?" I asked.
He nodded, but his eyes registered a startling amount of curiosity. I walked to the
other side of him and fell into the next seat, turned on my computer, distracted myself by
reaching into my backpack for my notebook, and tried not to stare at his face. This was
made infinitely harder because he was definitely staring at mine.
The login page of the computer popped up in front of me and, seeing as this was my
first day, I decided it would be alright if I looked at him to ask what the password was. This
was also a mistake because when I finally turned my head to meet his eyes, all the words left
my brain.
We stared at each other for a few moments. I'm sure my own eyes reflected the same
bewilderment as his. I would say that I fell in love in those brief seconds. But adults were
adamant that young people couldn't fall in love – I didn't know if I believed them.
He suddenly looked down and scrambled in his pocket before pulling out and
handing me a card.
As in, his card.
As in, his business card.
Oh. My. God. How old was he?
"Oh, my God, how old are you?" I internally cringed. I was glad to have some words
back in my brain, but why were those the words it decided to conjure up?
Fortunately, he didn't seem too bothered by my rude question. "My name is Edward
Cullen, I'm thirteen years old. My home phone, beeper, and fax number are all on that card."
Wow, this guy was smooth. How many other girls had this card in their backpacks (or
purses)?
"How many other girls have this card?" I blurted out and internally punched myself
in the nose.
His cheeks reddened, and damn that was really cute. I internally slapped my wrist for
thinking the word "damn."
"Um, I actually just had them printed up," he muttered. I internally let out a sigh, and
then decided I was sick of doing everything internally and held out my hand.

  2  
 "My name is Bella Swan. I just moved here from Phoenix to live with my dad. I
actually don't know my phone number. It's really nice to meet you, though." He nodded but
seemed hesitant to reach out and shake my hand. I saw him covertly wipe his hand on his
jeans, but it was still a little sweaty when he placed it in mine.
I couldn't bring myself to care though because I was actually holding hands with a
boy. And by holding, I meant shaking, but really it was the same thing. And maybe it was
just my imagination, but I thought he held my hand longer than what was necessarily polite
for the circumstance. And the heavens opened up and angels sang as I realized I had found
my soulmate. I was meant to be with this boy.
Of course all of this was completely ruined by the next five words out of my mouth.
"You aren't gay, are you?"
Oh shit. My hand immediately slapped over my mouth and I felt blood rush to my
cheeks, closing my eyes in mortification as I internally beat myself to a pulp. I didn't even
have it in me to mentally punish myself for thinking the word "shit."
What was wrong with me? I mean, yeah, the last boy I had allowed myself to fall in
love with gave off the gay "vibe," but Edward didn't! I cursed Aiden. I cursed Renee. I may
have cursed God too, but I swear it was an accident!
I was just sitting there drowning in self-pity and humiliation. I couldn't look at
Edward, knowing I'd only find disgust on his face. He'd never speak to me again. He'd think
I was a diseased, social leper, and ask me to go sit somewhere else.
But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he actually found that funny and was thoroughly amused. Maybe if I
look, I'll find humor and good-will on his face and then we'll have this amazing connection and we'll fall in
love and get married and tell people about the first time we met and how humiliating and awkward that
was…
I chanced a peek from behind my fingers and died a little more inside when I
realized my first instinct was correct. He hated me. He wasn't even looking at me anymore,
back to sorting pictures on his computer. I turned away from him and blinked a few tears
out of my eyes.
The teacher walked into class then and started calling roll. I tried to collect myself,
doing my best not to look at Edward when she called his name. After she was finished, she
asked me to come up to talk to her while the rest of the class worked on their assignments.
I must have still looked flustered because the first thing she said was, "Do you need
to go to the nurse's office? You look a bit peaky."
While at first escaping Edward seemed like an appealing prospect, I quickly realized
that this would only bring further attention to me, so I decided against it. "No, I'm all right. I
guess I'm just nervous about my first day of school," I said, hoping she wouldn't question
me further or insist on me leaving.
"Well, in that case, my name is Ms. Evans and I'm the Yearbook advisor. Everything
is very casual in my class. Rosalie and Alice are chief editors." She nodded her head over to
the two girls who had been applying a new face to their old one a few minutes ago. "You'll
meet them and the rest of the class a little bit later.
"Most of the other people here have different sections of the yearbook that they are
assigned to and put together pages for those. I allow everyone to work independently or in
groups for most of the class and I go around and check on their progress, making sure they
are all contributing, and staying focused."

  3  
 I bobbed my head at the appropriate moments to let her know I was following her,
though I couldn't help but think this class seemed more like a free period for socializing and
flirting (aka, mating) over anything else.
"I'm afraid, however, that all of the positions for editors are filled up. I saw that you
were sitting over with Edward, our photographer. Would you be interested in working as his
assistant?"
I was torn – I loved to take pictures and (if I was being honest) I really wanted to
spend more time with Edward, but he hated me now and that would probably put a damper
on our interactions. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable by forcing him to work with
me.
Leaning in a little closer to Ms. Evans, I whispered, "I'm not sure how good of an
idea that is. I mean, I don't think he likes me."
To my surprise Ms. Evans let out a loud chuckle and smacked me on the back – hard.
"Oh, Bella, he'll like you just fine. He's just shy. Go over and tell him the good news! He'll be
happy to have some help."
I felt oddly… hopeful. I mean, it was the teacher that was forcing us to work together.
It wouldn't be my fault if he was uncomfortable. Except for the fact that I asked if he was gay, I
corrected myself.
Ms. Evans handed me a sheet a paper, quickly explaining that it was a "how to" guide
on working with the computers. Standing up a little straighter in an attempt to gather my
confidence, I walked back over to Edward with my head held high, and managed not to trip
on anything as I took my seat next to him.
After a deep inhale, I said, "Ms. Evans told me that I'd be working with you as your
assistant photographer."
Edward only acknowledged what I said with a silent nod.
Turning back to my computer dejectedly, I typed in the password that was written in
the "how to" guide. I had begun to work through the instructions on the sheet about how to
access the photos on the network data drive when an instant message popped up on my
screen.

COMP520072: This is Edward Cullen to Bella Swan.

My eyes widened and quickly flicked over to Edward who was still sorting through
pictures as if nothing was happening. What was he up to?

COMP520073: BS to EC. How do I know this is rly Edward?

COMP520072: Because the ID on this computer is the number right before yours.
COMP520073: Oh.
COMP520072: I would like to answer your question now.
COMP520073: Wat question?
COMP520072: You asked if I was gay.

Heat flooded my cheeks once again. I had actually managed to forget about that little
mishap during my excitement over Edward talking to me. Well… kind of talking.

COMP520072: You look really pretty when you blush like that.

The slightest hue of pink was tinting his ears, but his face remained composed and
steadfast on the screen as he continued typing.

  4  
COMP520072: And no, I am not gay.

I could have sworn I saw him smirk.

  5  
 Chapter 2: The First Time They Danced

09/12/01
Dear Diary,

I, Bella Swan, on this day, the 12th of September, declare that I am in love with Edward Cullen.
At least I think it's love. It's definitely more than a crush, though. All I know is that I dream
about him, I think he is totally cute and handsome, and he has a very sexy voice (at least
from what I've heard; he hardly ever really talks and most of the time he's whispering).

You're the only person (thing) I can tell this to. I used to go to Renee for boy advice, since
she has managed to marry two great guys (my dad and Phil). But I called her the other night
to talk to her about Edward and she said some really weird things to me. I was telling her
about how Edward and I would just stare into each other's eyes for a few moments every
day, and she laughed at me and told me that was called "sexual tension."

She explained to me that "sexual tension" is when two people are deeply attracted to each
other but are too young or too stupid to do anything about it. My mouth practically fell
open because she used the s-word (and by s-word I mean sex, not the other s-word).

She started talking about how she and Phil had so much chemistry and "sexual tension," but
she was still married to my dad so they couldn't do anything about it. I honestly hate when
Renee talks about how she left my dad when I was young. I mean, I love my mom with my
whole heart, and I really like Phil, but I also love my dad.

Speaking of love, Edward was wearing a baby blue shirt yesterday with jeans. And then last
night I had a dream that he snuck into my room and he was still wearing those clothes. I
woke up and asked who it was, and Edward said he thought I was cute and hot and that
he wanted to kiss me, and I was going to let him. Then I woke up.

This isn't the first time I've dreamed of him. There was another dream that my father and I
went sailing and he came with us. And there was one about him talking to me and he said
that he liked me. Never in my dreams have we ever actually kissed, though. Do you think that's
a good or bad sign? What if it's just a sign telling me I'm crushing really badly on him?

I know I've only known him for like a week, but I really feel as if I KNOW him. And I think he
may like me, too! The reasons why I think so are listed below:

-He told me I was pretty when I blushed

-He talks to me (well, mostly sends instant messages in class) even though I asked him
if he was gay
-He gave me his card (and apparently I'm the only one)
-He looks at me A LOT
-He doesn't really talk to anyone else (that I know of)
-He didn't object to me being his assistant photographer
-He asked me to the dance tomorrow night!

Well, he sort of asked me to the dance tomorrow night because, since I'm his assistant
photographer, I have to help him take pictures. So, we won't actually be dancing, but I'l l be
spending the entire night with him!

And what makes it even better is that tomorrow is my birthday. I can already tell that it is
going to be the best day of my life. I can just kind of feel it; Renee always tells me to
listen to my heart and feel things.

  6  
I have to go to bed now. I need to make sure I look really good tomorrow night. I'm not
sure what I'm going to wear, but I'm definitely not going to look skanky like Rosalie, Alice, and
the rest of their little clique. It's disgusting how much lipstick they wear. If I ever kiss Edward
I want to actually be able to feel his lips on mine.

Edward… he is the boy of my dreams. My prince charming.

g2g,
Bella Swan

P.S. I can't believe I'm going to be thirteen when I wake up tomorrow morning!

COMP520072: This is Edward Cullen to Bella Swan.

I couldn't help the smile that spread over my face when he typed those words.
Edward was perfect. I still didn't really understand why he liked to IM me instead of just
talking to me, since I was sitting right next to him, but I wasn't going to complain. Any type
of contact with Edward was good contact.

COMP520073: This is BS to EC. Wats up?

COMP520072: Nothing much.
COMP520072: You?
COMP520073: just chattin with u and lookin thru photos
COMP520072: Cool.
COMP520073: yeah
COMP520072: Yup.
COMP520073: um hum
COMP520072: :-D
COMP520073: >:-)
COMP520072: Cool face.

Oh. My. God. Did Edward Cullen just compliment my face? I felt the blood rush to
my cheeks and my breathing start to accelerate. That is, until I realized he was
complimenting the stupid smiley face in my IM.

COMP520073: thank u. i think so too. urs is very nice too

COMP520072: Thanks.
COMP520073: no prob
COMP520072: Be Right Back.

Edward walked over to the teacher, and I sighed inwardly as I tried to subtly check
out his backside. Turning back to my computer, I couldn't help but feel giddy over how well
our IM conversation was going… even if he was complimenting my smiley face instead of
my actual face. What he didn't know was that when I said, "urs is very nice too," I was
actually talking about how handsome he was in real life. It made me a little sad that he
wouldn't know that.
I quickly wiped the smile off my face as Edward headed back over to our computers,
trying to look nonchalant, as to hide my feelings for him. I wondered if he could ever
possibly love me as much as I loved him.

COMP520072: Bella, there's something I've been meaning to ask you over the last
week.

  7  
 Oh. My. God. This was it. Edward Cullen was finally going to ask me out. I tried to
get my breathing under control. I was a little disappointed that he was going to do it over IM
instead of asking me in person, but I would take whatever I could get.

COMP520073: ok, wats up?

COMP520072: Do you know what BS even stands for?

I blinked a few times at the computer. That was so not the question I thought he was
going to ask me.

COMP520073: Um, yeah. I think it's kinda obvious that it stands 4 Bella Swan.

I heard a quiet chuckle from beside me and my head snapped to find Edward's
amused eyes staring at me.
"I mean, do you know what it really stands for?" he quietly asked me.
My first instinct was to lie and tell him that of course I knew what it stood for;
however, I was a horrible liar and knew he would easily catch my falsehood.
I was also an idiot. "Of course, I know what it stands for, Edward. I'm not an idiot."
I'd never heard Edward laugh out loud before. It was beautiful. "Oh, really? So you
know what it stands for, and yet you insist on using it synonymously with your name?"
I felt the heat rise up on my cheeks, and I quickly turned away from Edward. This
wasn't the conversation I was hoping for on my thirteenth birthday. "What's it to you
anyway?"
There was a small pause before Edward said, "I just like to see you blush."
My eyes lifted to his, and we sat there staring at each other for what felt like an
infinite amount of time before Edward finally broke eye contact and went back to sorting
pictures on his computer. I followed his example.
It was really fortunate timing, too, because Ms. Evans came strolling over to us to
check on the progress we were making.
"Are the two of you ready to take pictures at the dance tonight?" she asked with a
wide smile on her face.
Edward's face seemed to turn a little pink, and it appeared he had absolutely no
intention of answering that question so I spoke up for him. "Yes, Ms. Evans. I'm pretty
positive we have everything under control. We'll make sure to take a lot of pictures tonight."
"That's fantastic, but Bella, make sure you don't get stuck behind the camera the
entire night," she said, before crossing the room back to her desk.
It seemed a little awkward between Edward and me as I turned back to my
computer. Maybe Edward felt as awkward about the dance as I did (I could only hope).
It took me a few minutes to get back in the groove of sorting through the pictures of
sporting events that Edward had taken earlier in the year. He seemed to be as focused as I
was doing the task at hand, which is why it surprised me when another instant message
popped up.

COMP520072: My mom was wondering if you would like a ride with me to the dance.
It just seems more practical that way since I have all the camera equipment and
my parents are actually chaperoning the dance, so it wouldn't be a problem for
them to swing by and pick you up. I completely understand if you would rather
have your dad take you, so please do not feel obligated to accept my
invitation.

  8  
 I stared at the screen in shock; it was the most I had ever heard Edward say (or seen
Edward type) since I had met him. He was rambling almost as if he was nervous. A thrill of
excitement shot through me at the prospect of driving with Edward to the dance.
It's almost like a real date! Except that his parents would be there. And he hadn't
technically said the word date. But it really was the same thing if you thought about it.
I decided to play it cool with my response. I definitely didn't want to let on how
excited I was for our sort-of date.

COMP520073: cool. Wat time?

COMP520072: Is 6 PM too early? The dance starts at 6:30 and I want to get there
a little early.
COMP520073: nope, sounds perfect.

And it really and truly did.

By 6:01 that evening, I was sitting in the back seat of the Cullen's car mentally
scolded myself for thinking that Edward's father was good looking. This was the boy I
imagined spending the rest of my life with, which meant Mr. Cullen would be my father-in-
law, my family, and I was practically wiping the drool from my chin. (That was a figure of
speech 'cause I would never actually drool in front of Edward. That would be gross.)
I had always prided myself on not being a "floozy," as Renee put it, and had only
ever crushed on one boy at a time. It hadn't really been an issue after the whole debacle with
Aiden, until I met Edward and Edward's father. I knew I shouldn't have been thinking about
him in that way because he was married and I was sitting right next to Edward, but being in
a small, compact space with the two most handsome men on the planet made me slightly
flustered. I am blessed.
Speaking of handsome, Edward did look delicious tonight. Did I just refer to Edward as
delicious? I swore my jaw nearly fell from my mouth when I'd opened the door and there he
stood in smooth slacks and a shiny tie, feeling a flood of relief wash through me that I had
decided to wear a (modest) skirt and didn't feel over-dressed.
I was expecting Edward's mom to pick us up so I was really surprised when his
father stepped out of the car and opened the back door of his Mercedes for me and Edward
to climb into. Apparently, Mrs. Cullen was at the school early setting up for the dance.
Besides Edward introducing me to his father, Carlisle (though I secretly preferred to
call him Dr. Cullen), there hadn't been much conversation on the way to the dance. That was
all right with me, seeing as it allowed me to focus on keeping the drool inside my mouth and
fight the overwhelming urge to snatch Edward's hand from across the seat.
When we reached the school, Edward quickly hopped out of the car and raced over
to my side to open the door for me. My heart fluttered wildly as I realized exactly how much
of a true gentleman he was. We went to the trunk of the car to get the digital cameras and set
off towards the school.
When we walked into the gym, Edward immediately started to take pictures. That
was a little odd because we were the only people there besides the chaperones and the DJ.
The gym looked pretty much the same, except for a few lame streamers and balloons that
were hanging up, and I honestly couldn't bring myself to care about any of it because this
was my date with Edward, and I was going to make the most of it.

  9  
 Students eventually started filling up the gym and by eight, both Edward and I were
in full swing taking pictures. Though I was more than a little disappointed when Edward
asked me to stand next to the DJ and take pictures of the couples and cliques that wished to
pose in front of him, I was relieved that he didn't actually expect me to dance with him. Not
only did I have no sense of rhythm, but the students looked like they were trying to mate on
the dance floor – and not doing it very well. It was really quite disturbing watching boys who
still hadn't hit puberty grind against girls twice their size in what I assumed was supposed to
be a sexy manner.
I did feel a little jealous, though, when the slow songs came on and everyone coupled
up, looking all sweet, dancing with their partners. I daydreamed about what it would be like
for Edward to hold me as we slow-danced and sing the lyrics of a romantic song in my ear.
Around nine the dance was beginning to wrap up, and I had filled the memory card
of my camera with as many good pictures as I could. I really wanted to impress Edward and
give him a good selection of pictures to choose from. I was about to walk out of the gym to
get a drink of water when I spotted Edward across the room. And he was staring at me.
Like, really looking at me. The crackle of energy between us as he began to walk towards me
was hard to miss, and then I felt it. I mean I really felt it.
Sexual tension.
My breath picked up again, and I tried to swallow as much air as possible so I
wouldn't drown in the "sexual tension" flowing between my body and Edward's. Just as he
reached me, Brian McKnight's "Back at One" began playing from the DJ's booth.
Oh. My. God. I loved this song. And, oh. My. God. It was a sign from heaven that
Edward and I were meant to be together, because the lyrics captured our relationship
perfectly. It was undeniable that we should be together. And Edward was a dream come true
– my dream come true.
I stared into his green eyes intently, willing him to ask me to dance with him. He
hesitated for a rather long moment, and I began to think he was actually not going to ask
me. And I was partially right because he never did ask me. He kind of just put his hands
around my waist and pulled me to him, silently pleading with me to not reject his advances
(at least that is how I interpreted it).
I immediately complied, awkwardly wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning
against his shoulder as the lyrics played softly over the sound system. Edward didn’t really
know how to dance either; we were kind of just swaying back and forth, and that was all
right. Blissfully wrapped in Edward's arms and drinking in his Edward smell (which
surprisingly smelt similar to my dad's Old Spice cologne), nothing and nobody could ruin
this moment.
Except Alice Fucking Brandon. I gave myself a mental slap on the wrist for thinking
the word "fuck," but really, what the fuck was she thinking?
She tapped me on the shoulder, and I hesitantly removed my head from Edward's
chest. "Do you mind if I cut in," she asked a little too sweetly. The bitch knew what she was
doing. I internally slapped myself on the wrist again for thinking the word "bitch," but really,
what was that bitch fucking doing? Was she purposefully trying to ruin my moment with
Edward?
The smirk on her face told me that the answer to that question was an easy yes.
Edward looked more than a little surprised; however, the surprise on his face didn't reflect
the repulsion I had hoped to find there. He didn't look opposed to dancing with Alice with

  10  
her mini-skirt and her fake face and her slutty shirt that showed off her non-existent
cleavage – he was merely surprised.
I knew what that meant… he didn't feel for me the way I felt for him. He probably
thought this was one big joke. He'd probably handed out business cards to all the girls in
school and was laughing with all of them at stupid Bella Swan who fell for his cheap tricks
and witty banter.
There was only one thing I could do in that moment – that was to protect my heart.
I knew what I had to do.
I plastered a smile on my face, hoping that it didn't look as fake as hers. "Sure, Alice.
Have at it."
I unwrapped myself from Edward's embrace and found that he hesitated in letting
me go. That was odd. I looked up to gauge his reaction. His brow furrowed and his eyes
were dark as if he were mildly offended or confused. Was it possible that I had been wrong?
I wanted so badly to take it all back, but then he clenched his jaw and turned towards Alice.
"Fine, Alice, let's have at it."
His tone bit with sarcasm. I shook my head to clear my mind of vindictive but
hopeful thoughts. Pathetically, I wanted Edward to be disappointed and hurt by my dismissal
so I could further my illusion that he might actually feel something for me. But he deserved
to be with the girl he really wanted, so I stepped away.
Turning my back on the happy couple, I quickly walked towards the exit, attempting
to keep myself composed long enough to make it to the girl's bathroom. I was so caught up
in my anguish that I almost didn't notice that Dr. Cullen was dancing closely with Ms.
Evans.
Oh great, the icing on top of the shitty cake. Just rub all of my crushes in my face with other girls! I
mentally slapped my wrist for thinking the word "shitty" but really, this was the shittiest
fucking birthday of my entire life.

09/13/01
Dear Diary,

I hate my life. I'm such a fool thinking Edward could ever fall in love with me. He didn't speak
to me for the rest of the night after he danced with Alice, and I couldn't bring myself to even
look at him the entire ride home because I was scared he'd see how red my eyes were from
crying in the bathroom.

I should have known he'd fall for a girl like her. And the worst part is… I still love him
after all of it.

I don't know what to do. I really don't want to change myself, but maybe if I look and act
more like Alice he might like me back again. Love is about compromise after all.

At least that's what Renee says.

  11  
 Chapter 3: The First Time She Failed Him

10/01/01
Dear Diary,

I'm sorry it's been over a week since I last wrote in you. I've honestly been so busy that I
haven't had the chance. Not to mention it's really hard to talk about how heartbroken I am
right now. But I really need someone to talk to, someone I can trust. And that's you.

Today the entire eighth grade class is going on a field trip to a museum. I'm actually sitting
on a bus right now since it's about an hour away from Forks. Edward is on the same bus
as me.

I don't know why, but sometimes he glances at me. That could be because Alice is sitting right
next to me, though.

That's right, I'm sitting next to Alice Brandon and Rosalie Hale. We're friends now… kind of.
Here's the story…

I cried myself to sleep the night I got home from the dance. I was so upset about
what happened with Alice and Edward that I couldn't hold it all in. The next day Renee
called me to see how the dance went, and I ended up crying for another hour on the phone
as I told her. Renee listened to me sob, letting me tell my story uninterrupted, and at the end
said she had a surprise for me and that she'd see me tomorrow.
I was so tired and heartbroken that I didn't even think about what that meant. To be
honest, I kind of forgot that she lived in an entirely different state. So imagine my surprise
when my dad pulled up on Sunday and Renee was in the passenger seat of the car.
I couldn't help myself - I darted out of the house and ran into my mother's arms,
practically knocking her over with the sheer force of my enthusiasm. I hadn't realized how
much I missed her.
My mom told Charlie that he needed to go somewhere else so we could have girl-
time, and with that she took me up to my room to talk about Edward and what I could do to
win him back.
"Now, sweetie, no offense, but guys like girls who have a have a certain je ne sais
quois," Renee said.
I had absolutely no idea what je ne sais quois was, but I knew I wanted it badly if it
meant that I could get Edward to notice me. "What exactly is that?"
Renee sat up straighter. "It's a certain elusive quality a girl, or in your case a young
woman, might have. It's when men can't quite put their finger on why it is they find a
woman so attractive. She's mysterious. She's intriguing. And she simply reeks of 'sexual
appeal.' " My mom clearly had je ne sais quois… and I did not.
And there it was again, the s-word (sex). I didn't want to tell my mom that I was
actually kind of afraid of sex. She had told me that it would be worth it in the end, but that it
hurt in the beginning. I really didn't have a high pain tolerance. Though I wasn't sure I was
ready for all this, my mom knew what she was talking about. She always had a boyfriend
around, and she had married my father (and Phil, too). I took a deep breath and asked the
inevitable question in a whisper, "How do I get 'sex appeal?' "

  12  
 My mother's face brightened. "Well, first, we need to go shopping!"
With a scribbled note from Renee excusing me from school, Monday was spent
shopping in Seattle. A small part of me was sad I wouldn't see Edward until Tuesday, but I
was mostly relieved that I could put off facing him another day. I was quite sure that at the
sight of him I would burst into tears, the crushing disappointment of what we could have
been swallowing me whole.
While most girls would probably love to spend a day shopping with their mom, I
absolutely hated it. Normally, if Renee picked out a shirt that was too low cut or a skirt that
was too high, I would have immediately said no. Today, I kept telling myself that Renee
knew what she was talking about and allowed her to pick out whatever she wanted. I didn't
even object when she bought me a pair of two-inch heels, telling me they would do miracles
for my posture.
We got jeans that made my butt look rounder, shirts that made my waist look
smaller, and shoes that made my legs look longer. Renee then took me to a salon to get my
nails done, my hair styled, and my eyebrows waxed. The entire time I was taking deep
breaths and telling myself it would be worth it when I saw the look on Edward's face as I
floated into the room tomorrow reeking of "sex appeal."
That night Renee taught me how to walk in heels and put on make-up. It was a little
too heavy for my taste, and the eyeliner pencil kept sticking me in the eye, but eventually I
got the hang of it. I felt like a whole new person.
I hated it.
Tuesday morning brought on a wreck of nerves. Renee hugged and kissed me
goodbye, wishing me good luck and promising to come out to Forks whenever she got
another chance. I kind of wished she would have been there to hold my hand as I was
walked into school, if only to have kept me from tripping in these ridiculous shoes.
Attempting to not hyperventilate as I walked into first period, I reminded myself to
take even breaths. I tried to convince myself that nobody was staring at me when I walked in
the door, but really the only person who wasn't looking at me was Edward, sitting in front of
his computer with his camera around his neck, sorting pictures, as per usual.
And really, I couldn't blame everyone for looking at me in my bell-bottom jeans that
were tight on my thighs and flared out at the knee, my red shirt that had "princess" written
on it in pink, glittery letters, and the heels I was attempting (but not succeeding) to gracefully
walk in. I reminded myself that I looked hot and that I had "sex appeal" and that Edward
would see the changes in me and now think I was worthy of his attention. It gave me
enough of a confidence boost that I managed to amble over to him.
"Hey, Edward," I muttered, biting my lip in an effort to calm my nerves before I
gauged his reaction.
He looked up quickly from his camera. I could tell the exact moment he realized it
was me standing there because his eyes widened minutely before a blank look came over his
face. He stared at me for a few endless moments, but it wasn't the same as the warm, gazing
stares that we had shared only last week. It was cold and vacant. I'd never felt so alone and
exposed as I did with that stare.
He blinked a few times and nodded sharply in my direction before he turned back to
the computer and continued sorting through pictures. Edward didn't speak a lot, so it wasn't
abnormal for him to acknowledge me with a nod, but it had always felt friendly and
welcome. This was different, and I stood there awkwardly before finally taking my seat at the
computer next to him.

  13  
 I pulled the camera that I had used at the dance out of my purse (because girls in
eighth grade did carry purses and not ratty purple backpacks they imagined held good-luck)
and handed it to him. "I hope you like the pictures I took; I tried to give you as much variety
as possible."
Edward once again acknowledged me with a nod as he removed the memory card
from the camera and stuck it in the card reader. And that was it. He didn't utter a word to
me during the entire class. He didn't IM me. He sat there on the computer sorting pictures
as if I didn't exist.
And my heart broke a little more.

Tuesday night I called Renee. I cried to her on the phone for another hour or so, but
she assured me that everything was going according to plan. Apparently boys liked to
pretend they weren’t interested in a girl they really were interested in because they're insecure
about how the girl actually feels about them.
This gave me a small confidence boost because Renee really did know what she was
talking about when it came to boys. I was able to walk into school on Wednesday with my
head held high wearing another of the outfits Renee had picked out, one that I was positive
Edward would love.
Except he didn't.
The only time he even acknowledged me was when we brushed hands (accidentally,
of course) when we were both reaching for the card reader. And he only did it to mutter a
quick apology.
I didn’t know what stung more, my hand from the shock of energy I felt as Edward
and I touched, or my heart when the only word he spoke to me was "sorry."

Wednesday night I called a radio station and dedicated a song to Edward.

"I want to dedicate a song to my ex-boyfriend, Edward."
"And what song would that be?"
" 'From the Bottom of My Broken Heart' by Britney Spears."
"Okay, this is going out to everyone with a broken heart tonight. But especially to Edward from
Rebecca."
I didn't give my real name in case he was listening.

Thursday night, I cried for two hours and then slept with Edward's business card
under my pillow.

Bella!

This is Alice Brandon.

Wuss Up? How R U?

  14  
Sry we haven't REALLY talked. I don't know Y we aren't friends cuz that would be
super awesome!

Sry about the whole Edward thing, R U mad me? The thing is that me and E have
known each other for like, YEARS. I REALLY like him a lot and I think he likes me 2. I
mean, we used to hang out all the time and then when he realized he liked me he kind
of freaked and stopped hangin. But I'm not giving up cuz I think we're N2B.

Anywayz, we should sit 2gether on the bus Non! Then I could get to know U! Rose will
sit w/ us too. She REALLY wants 2 meet U!

Hugz!
Alice

P.S. Those shoes are REALLY cute!

P.S.S. Circle YES or NO to the bus thing and send this note back to me!

YES NO

I stared at the note that Alice had deposited on my desk in shock. This could be
played one of two ways; I could act like the vindictive bitch (I mentally slapped myself on
the wrist for thinking the word "bitch") I was and shun her for the rest of our school
careers, or I could act like the vindictive bitch (mental slap) I was and sabotage her from the
inside out.
I circled YES. Bitch was going down.

…and now I'm sitting on a bus between tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.

Alice has a false crush on Edward. I know she's just out to get me because she's been talking
about Mike and Tyler for the last 20 minutes. She finally fell asleep (thank God) and left me to
my own devices.

If Alice is a chatterbox, then Rose is an ice queen. Seriously, the girl needs to get a
personality or melt her heart or something. Alice was definitely BS-ing me in that note 'cause
Rosalie hasn't spoken more than five words to me this entire trip. She's not even pretending
to be polite. Whatever.

And Edward… Edward is beautiful. He's hiding behind a book right now, and I really want to
know what he is reading. And OMG he wears glasses when he reads. I think I may love him
more than ever. He's wearing a green shirt that matches his eyes perfectly, and whenever I
catch him throwing glimpses in this direction I feel like

Oops! He just caught me looking at him again! I better go; I think we're pulling up to the
museum.

I'l l give you an update later!

-Bella

  15  
 Alice and Rosalie (mostly Alice) insisted that I stay with them during the tour of the
museum. I tried to keep Edward in my line of sight at all times, but he seemed to take more
time than the other students observing the exhibits. I even saw him pull a magnifying glass
out of his bag to get a closer look at a rare diamond necklace from the Renaissance Era. I
was practically panting over him at that point. He was so amazing; he was smart and
wonderful and so good-looking! And he would never want me…
The entire time we were there, Alice kept asking me questions about my time in
Phoenix. She pretended to be shocked when I told her that I never had a boyfriend before
and said she was insanely jealous that my mom loved to take me shopping. I really wished
she had been half as interested in the museum as she seemed to be with me because it really
was fascinating. I wished more than ever that Edward would join our group.
The cafeteria we were supposed to eat lunch in came into view as we reached the
end of the museum. Alice immediately pulled me to a table and sat next to me. Rosalie was
bored as ever and brought her boyfriend, Emmett, to sit with us. The two of them seemed
engrossed in their conversation, so I turned to Alice to ask her about how long she had lived
in Forks. However, as soon as I caught her eye, she asked, "Bella, can I be honest with you?"
I immediately grew suspicious, especially with Alice innocently batting her eyelashes
at me. "Sure, what's up?"
"I know you like Edward."
We sat there for a few awkward seconds. She was waiting for me to respond and my
mind was oddly blank. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Alice patted my hand in what I assumed was supposed to be a sympathetic gesture,
but it really just came off as condescending. "It's all right. I totally don't mind if you like him,
too. I mean, it's only natural. He's incredibly good looking."
As she said that, Edward finally walked back into my line of sight. "Good looking"
was the understatement of the year. Edward was beautiful.
"I really don't know what you're talking about." Though I knew my fraud was already
exposed.
Alice's face grew stony. "I can see what you're trying to do and it's not going to work.
Edward likes girls like me. You know, pretty girls. And really, you look great, but I heard him
tell someone that you were just a wannabe prom queen." She continued to pat my hand in
her "soothing" manner, and I felt tears fill my eyes. Could Edward have actually said that
about me? "You can still hang out with us; we don't judge people for what they look like.
And we can always hook you up with someone more your style, like Eric. He's single."
I nodded, numbness settling in my body as I willed the tears away. I wouldn't cry in
front of Alice. "Excuse me, I just need to use the restroom." Spinning on my heel and barely
maintaining my balance, I kept my face down so nobody could see the state I was in. I barely
even felt it when I bumped into something hard, but two hands grabbed my shoulders
forcing me to look up into a pair of startled, green eyes.
Edward looked at me for a few moments, his stare reflecting none of the coldness he
had shown me in the past week. He was touching me like I had dreamt about ever since I
met him, and yet the only thing I could do was yank myself away from his arms with a
muttered, "Don't."
As soon as I reached the bathroom, I crumpled against the sinks with tears cascading
down my flushed cheeks. I felt pathetic and weak. I was so sick of crying! And I was so sick
of wearing shoes I tripped in, and I was sick of wearing pants that gave me a wedgie!

  16  
 "Pull yourself together," I said. Lifting myself from the floor, I hovered over the sink
before looking at myself in the mirror. There was mascara and eyeliner running down my
face in streaks. I was so disgusted that I had even put on so much make-up in the first place.
I ripped paper towels from the dispenser and began furiously wiping the makeup off.
I scrubbed and scrubbed, but the mascara and eyeliner wouldn't come off no matter how
much I tried.
"Bella?"
I jumped back in surprise from the unexpected intrusion on my personal moment.
"M-Ms. Evans?"
She smiled softly at me and pulled something out of her purse. "Here, it's makeup
remover. It even effectively takes off waterproof mascara."
Taking the remover from her, I stared at it curiously. "I-I don't know what do with
this," I admitted. My mom had taught me how to put makeup on, but told me there was no
point in taking it off since I was just going to wake up the next morning and put more on.
Ms. Evans smiled even brighter as she reached behind me to grab a paper towel. "Do
you mind if I…?"
"No! Please do." I was more than happy to let her help.
She took the jar of remover back, opened it, and put a small amount onto the paper
towel. "Close your eyes." My eyes fluttered close, and I held my breath as she began wiping
the makeup from my lids. "I couldn't help but notice you've been dressing a little more…
differently than usual. Is there anything in particular that brought this on?"
A few stray tears dripped from my still closed eyes. "Yes."
She let it rest for a couple paper towels strokes before saying, "You know, if there's
anything you want to talk to me about, I'm more than willing to listen."
The darkness behind my eyelids somehow made it easier to say what I needed to.
"There was this boy. And I really liked him a lot but he likes another girl."
"And let me take a guess, she dresses a little different from you and wears a lot of
makeup?" Ms. Evans said, as she finished applying the remover.
"I just thought that if I, you know, dressed a bit more like her then maybe he would
like me, too... but it didn't work." The power behind that simple statement startled me. I had
given up my identity, my appearance, my purple backpack, and all for what? Nothing. "And I
failed. I failed so miserably! He doesn't like me at all anymore, and he still likes her! I failed
him. I failed my mother! I just failed!" I stepped back from Ms. Evans, disgusted with my
outburst; however, Ms. Evans stepped with me and kept an arm steady on my back. It was
comforting, and much more affective than Alice's phony sympathetic arm petting. "What am
I supposed to do?" I asked.
She had this peculiar smile on her face as she brushed a few strands from my eyes.
"First off, you need to realize that you didn't fail this boy and you didn't fail your mother.
The only person you failed was yourself because you weren't true to who you are. Second,
you need to come to terms with the person you want to be. Do you know who that person
is?"
"I think so."
"Good. Remember that and hold onto who that person is because, believe it or not,
there are going to be a lot of times in your life where you will think it's easier to compromise
that person in order to fit in. Whenever you feel like that, I want you to remember this
moment and remember what truly makes you happy."

  17  
 It felt weird; the only person I had ever asked for boy advice was my mom. Ms.
Evans wasn't mentioning anything about "sex appeal" or je ne sais quois. But it was comforting
to hear that I didn't need to change.
"And lastly, I want you to listen really closely – because this is the most important
thing – don't ever change for a boy. If ever a boy says you need to change who you are for
him, even if you have the most amazing chemistry in the world, he isn't worth you. You are
beautiful just as you are. Never forget that."
I felt a small smile involuntarily cross my lips. It was minuscule, but it was the first
true smile I had felt in weeks. "Isn't chemistry a science class?"
Ms. Evans laughed. "Yes, but it's also when two people are drawn to each other.
They feel deep down in their bones that they know this person without really knowing them.
Does that make sense?"
Yeah, I knew exactly what she was talking about because I felt that way every time I
looked at Edward (or at least when he made eye contact with me).
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I just need a minute."
She gave me a brief hug. "All right. Meet us out at the buses in five minutes."
As Ms. Evans left, I looked in the mirror once more. My face looked horrible
because of all the crying, but it was so good to finally see myself, and not the manufactured
image Renee had bought me.
I splashed some water on my cheeks to get rid of the red blotches. They didn't
completely go away, but I definitely preferred them to the oily foundation I'd layered on my
face for the last week.
Facing Alice looking like this was not on the list of things I ever wanted to do, but
now was the time. I didn't want to be friends with her, and I could practically feel the
vindictive bitch in me die as I stared at myself in the mirror. All the fight left me, and I
would have rather been a loner than try and befriend the queen bee again.
With a deep breath I left the bathroom and the person I had become in the last week
behind, walking out the person I wanted myself to be.
Me.

"Bella! I saved you a seat! Come sit next to me!" Alice called. She and Rosalie were
sitting in the middle of the bus flirting with Emmett and a few of the boys from the football
team. I shot her a pointed look, then walked right past her. Hopefully turning my back on
her in front of the entire eighth grade class would send the message that I wasn't interested
in being her little pet-project anymore.
The only seat left was next to Edward (because who doesn't love a bit of cosmic
irony?), and I approached him warily. He was holding a book up to his face, and he appeared
to be reading, but the lack of reading glasses proved his deception.
"Hey, Edward," I greeted.
He could burn holes in that book with the power of his stare, I thought right before he turned
that gaze on me. His eyes softened considerably when they took in my freshened
appearance, and a small smirk replaced the scowl. "Your face looks normal again."
Despite the insinuation, I chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I'm really not cut out to be a
Barbie doll."

  18  
 "No, you're not." I could tell he hadn't realized how rude that would sound by his
flush and immediately backtracking. "What I mean is that you are so much better this way. I
mean, not that you were bad before or anything. It's just–" My smile grew even more
pronounced as he let out an exasperated whoosh of air. "Never mind."
"Is it all right if I sit next to you?" I asked.
"Sure," he said, averting his eyes and scooting over a little to make room for me.
I tried to be as smooth as possible as I slid in next to him, but of course I still
managed to "accidentally" brush his arm. It was awkward for a few minutes as the bus left
the museum. Soon he went back to his book, and I pretended to write on a blank page of my
diary (didn't want to chance Edward seeing some of my more personal thoughts about him).
He abruptly closed his book about half an hour into the bus ride and turned to me.
"Why didn't you want to dance with me last week?" he demanded.
Well, that was a twist. "What do you mean, why didn't I want to dance with you? It
was you who didn't want to dance with me!"
"That's ridiculous. If I didn't want to dance with you then I wouldn't have asked
you."
"Technically, you didn't ask me," I said and then blushed as I remembered Edward
putting his hands on my waist. "And you didn't tell Alice no when she asked you!"
"You did not give me a chance to!" he said. "One second she asks me to dance, and
the next you are practically giving her my hand."
Hmmm… that had seemed like a lot longer than a second to me. I struggled for a rebuttal.
"Well, I know you like Alice. She told me!"
"Don't be so absurd. Why would I like Alice when I have y-" Edward quickly cut
himself off. Finally, I felt the "chemistry" between us again. He blinked and looked down at
his hands. When he spoke again, it was in an entirely different tone. "I have a business
proposition for you. I don't know if you know this, but I design T-shirts for a living and sell
them online for a decent profit. I'm looking for an assistant to help me with web design. You
don't have to have experience in the strictest sense, but I can already tell with your eye for
photography that you will be perfect for my entrepreneurial staff…"
I listened to the thirteen-year old love of my life talk about his successful online T-
shirt website with a content smile until I felt the heat of someone's stare on the back of my
head. I turned around to see Alice Fucking (mental cringe) Brandon staring at me. I smirked
at her.
Oh yeah, that bitch went down.

  19  
 Chapter 4: The First Time She Said the S-Word

COMP520072: This is Edward to Bella.

COMP520073: it's not going 2 work Edward.
COMP520072: I don't know what you are talking about.
COMP520073: yes u do
COMP520072: No, I don't.
COMP520073: stop acting like u don't know what I'm talking about, it's not
going 2 work
COMP520072: But I don't know what you are talking about.
COMP520073: Yes u DO!
COMP520072: No, I don't.
COMP520073: will u STOP?
COMP520072: Will I stop what?
COMP520073: STOP PRETENDING LIKE U DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!
COMP520072: But I don't know what you are talking about.
COMP520073: YES U DO!
COMP520072: Why don't you explain to me what you think it is I'm trying to get
you to do?
COMP520073: ur trying to get me 2 say that word.
COMP520072: What word?
COMP520073: U KNOW WHAT WORD I'M TALKING ABOUT!
COMP520072: No, I don't.
COMP520073: YES U DO!
COMP520072: No, I don't.
COMP520073: AHHHH! WILL U STOP?
COMP520072: Will I stop what?
COMP520073: I'm not doing this anymore.
COMP520072: Doing what?
COMP520073: U KNOW WHAT!
COMP520072: No, I don't.
COMP520073: BULLSHIT!
.
.
.
.
COMP520072: Bella?
COMP520073: I don't want 2 hear u gloat ='(
COMP520072: I wasn't going to gloat.
COMP520073: than wat do u want?
COMP520072: You should really work on your spelling and grammar.
.
.
.
COMP520072: Bella?
COMP520073: What?
COMP520072: I would have settled for BS =)

  20  
 Chapter 5: The First Time He Called Her His Best Friend

"Five-four-three-two-one–" Edward counted down under his breath before turning

the bottle of chocolate syrup right side up and moving onto the next glass of milk. "Five-
four-three-two-one."
I watched intently as he put the bottle down and picked up a long, silver spoon,
counting off the number of stirs he made in each direction. Until I met Edward Cullen, I
had no idea there was an exact formula for making the best chocolate milk possible from
Hershey's syrup. He was so smart. And so beautiful.
And so right! It seriously was the best chocolate milk I ever had. The rich chocolate
flavor blended flawlessly with the taste of the milk. And only a small part of the deliciousness
was due to the fact Edward had made it for me.
I sighed softly. Edward Cullen had made me, Bella Swan, chocolate milk. I loved him.
Glancing up from my cup, I found Edward assessing my reaction. He actually looked a little
nervous. He was too cute.
"It's really delicious - the best I've had!" The wide, encouraging smile plastered on
my face only reinforced my words.
I watched closely as a faint blush rose on Edward's cheeks, and his mouth
transformed into a shy smile. It was suddenly stifling hot in the kitchen as my stomach
fluttered and my heart rate quickened. Edward took a sip from his glass. My eyes transfixed
on his strong neck as he gulped the drink down.
My breath picked up as I thought, not for the first time, that I was meant to love this
boy. He had been created for me; I could just feel it in my gut. I then reminded myself that I
was only thirteen years old. Even though Renee had married twice, she'd warned me
thoroughly that I was not to get married until I was thirty. But that was so far away.
We stood there for a few minutes, in Edward's kitchen, sipping chocolate milk and
sharing stolen glances, before I broke the silence. "I have to admit that I'm really nervous
about this investment meeting."
Edward nodded and placed his cup on the counter. "Don't be. I don't want to get
ahead of myself, but I can guarantee you that it's pretty much a sure thing."
"But how do you know that?"
He seemed to consider his answer for a moment. "This particular investor is very
supportive of my business endeavors, especially the ones that utilize my talents."
"Your talents? You mean like your entrepreneurial skills?" I was genuinely curious.
"Well, yeah, there is that." He averted his eyes before he bashfully continued. "But I
also design the T-shirts as well. I mean, I draw… and stuff."
I'm sure the look of shock on my face was comical. "Is there anything you can't do?"
Edward's eyes remained focused on his cup, his fingers tracing imaginary lines on the
counter top. "I'm sure you've noticed," he began in a whisper, "that I don't really interact
well with other people our age."
My eyebrows shot up because I really hadn't noticed that. Thinking back to other
times Edward had interacted with students, I came to the astonishing realization that the
only time I'd seen him talk to someone else was at the dance when Alice (f-word) Brandon
had interrupted us. Excitement bubbled inside my chest. I mean, it was a little on the weird

  21  
side, but Edward Cullen had chosen me over anyone else at that school to be friends with.
And he had made me chocolate milk! I felt like squealing.
I was still attempting to restrain my giddiness when Edward spoke up again. "Did I
freak you out?"
"No! Of course not! Why would you think that?" I asked quickly, hopefully
appeasing any anxiety Edward might have.
Edward shrugged and went back to tracing lines on the counter.
"Anyway," I continued, alleviating the awkwardness, "what other talents does the
great Edward Cullen possess? Does he read minds? Can he sparkle? Inquiring minds want to
know."
Edward's grin reappeared. Really, he was too beautiful, especially with that smile on
his face. "I do speak a few languages," he admitted shyly.
"Wow, that's so incredible! Could you say something to me in another language?" I
looked at him through my eyelashes and fluttered them as flirtatiously as I could.
He seemed hesitant for a moment before firmly nodding. "I'quelin Balrogath naa ba
Balrogath."
It was like a caress, the way his mouth curled around the words and how smoothly
they rolled from his tongue, submitting to the perfect control of his voice. It was the most
glorious thing I had ever heard, and I had to suppress a shudder.
"And what exactly does that mean?" I breathlessly asked.
"The best balrog is a dead balrog."
"Huh?"
"It's Elvish," Edward began with a gleam in his eye. "A balrog is a mythical creature
from The Lord of the Rings."
"The Lord of the Rings," I repeated slowly. "Is that like a book about someone who
tames lions and tigers for circuses or something?"
Edward surprised me by laughing really loudly. Even his laugh was beautiful. "No,
Bella, it's a trilogy that was published in the mid-1900s, written by J.R.R. Tolkien. It's a
fantasy novel with wizards and elves and dwarfs. It's epic," he said enthusiastically.
"Oh, so it's kind of like Harry Potter?"
Edward's smile abruptly faltered, and his eyes went stony. "No, it is most definitely
not like Harry Potter."
I couldn't help the chill that went through my spine at how cold his voice sounded.
What had I done wrong?
Edward seemed to sense my unease, because his body immediately relaxed from his
stiff posture, and his face became friendlier. "I'm sorry. It's just that I get so frustrated with
people who compare the two series. Harry Potter," Edward spat the word as if it was a curse,
"is a commercially driven book series that copies many of the mythical aspects of The Lords of
the Rings. On the other hand, The Lord of the Rings is a masterpiece carefully woven with
power, beauty, and incredible imagery. It even has its own languages and mythology."
Whoa. Edward was really passionate about this Lord of the Rings. I was about to rebut
his statement that "Harry Potter was a commercially driven book series" when he suddenly
grabbed my hand and started pulling me up the stairs towards his bedroom.
And nothing else on God's green Earth mattered in this moment except that Edward
Cullen was holding my hand and taking me up to his bedroom. I think my heart might have
stopped.

  22  
 "Let me show you exactly what I mean," he was saying. "You really need to be well-
acquainted with LotR if we're going to be working together, since that's the topic of the
majority of the T-shirts we produce."
"LotR?" I asked, trying to keep up.
"It's just Lord of the Rings abbreviated. It's easier to type when you're role-playing
online with some of the other fans," he explained as we entered his bedroom.
And wow, was his bedroom amazing – just like the rest of the white mansion. I was
beyond relieved there were no posters of half-naked women adorning his walls, like I
expected most teenage boys to have. Instead, his walls were painted a dark shade of blue,
and in certain areas there was calligraphy in gold-ink written on it.
Aa' menle nauva calen ar' ta hwesta e' ale'quenle. I didn't bother reading it out loud, certain
I would butcher the Elvish language. "What does this mean?" I asked Edward, who had first
darted over to his bookshelf to grab a handful of books and then the computer to pull a
webpage up.
He glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. "It's an Elvish farewell that means,
'May thy paths be green and the breeze on thy back'."
"Oh," I muttered dumbly, not even bothering to read any of the other hundred
sayings on his wall. I meandered toward his massive queen-size bed with a blue and gold
coverlet on it and ran my fingers over the soft material.
"Bella." Edward's voice seemed to break on my name and he was staring at me with
an intensity I had never seen in a boy before. His eyes were dark, his jaw taut as he watched
me. "Maybe it would be best," he whispered, "if you didn't stand so close to the bed."
My immediate reaction was to be a little hurt that he'd implied I shouldn't be next to
the bed. And yet, his body language suggested that he wasn't really angry at me. I couldn't
exactly tell what was going on, but he looked uncomfortable, like he was trying to
concentrate very carefully on whatever was going on in his brain.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered Renee telling me about how men
reacted to certain imagery. After the whole fiasco with Alice and Edward, I had been
decidedly ignoring pretty much everything Renee had taught me about the male gender in
the past thirteen years of my life, but times like this kind of made me want to remember. It
was for the best, though, seeing as Edward clearly wasn't like other boys.
Edward subtly shook his head and turned back to the large computer monitor.
"Would you like to watch the trailer for the first LotR movie?" he asked as I peered over his
shoulder to see The Lord of the Rings movie website.
"Sure." I sat in the second computer chair next to the desk.
Of course, watching Edward watch the trailer was far more interesting than watching
the trailer itself. But I tried to at least give the illusion that I was interested in more than the
way Edward's lips would mouth the words in the commercial or the bright smile that lit his
face whenever the dude with the long, white beard was on the screen.
He was adorable.
"It comes out on December 19th," he said, once the trailer was over and he had me
clicking through the character biographies on the site.
I was in the middle of reading about Pippin, and was actually interested in attempting
to figure out exactly what a hobbit was, so I gave a passive, "That's cool."
"There's actually a midnight showing in Port Angeles on the 18th and my dad is
taking me with him since we don't have school because of Christmas," he continued. I

  23  
glanced up from the screen, and he was looking at me expectantly – as if I would be able to
decipher whatever type of man code he was sending me.
"That's… cool," I repeated.
We sat there for a few moments, his eyes pleading with me to get a clue.
"Is there anything–"
"Would you like to–"
We spoke at the same time, but were both cut off by the shrill of the phone.
He held up one finger. "Excuse me." Picking up the landline, he said, "Thank you for
calling. This is Edward Cullen, the founder and president of E.C.T-Shirts speaking. I
appreciate your call, how may I help you?"
He had a swift conversation with whoever was on the phone and abruptly hung up.
"That was the investor," he said. "She'll be ready to see us in about two hours. We should
probably get to work."
For the next hour and a half, Edward and I worked diligently on the visual aids for
the presentation. He had compiled charts and graphs of his quarterly revenue as well as user-
feedback from his clients. I worked, pasting everything to foam core and poster boards,
while he embellished it with his incredible drawings and calligraphy. He was amazingly
talented. I loved everything about him.
The last half hour we spent practicing the presentation. Edward might have seemed a
little shy when you first met him, but he was a powerful speaker when he was trying to
convince you to spend money on his business ventures. The doorbell rang, and Edward gave
me a nervous smile, telling me I was going to do just fine. We grabbed the graphs and
posters and headed down to the living room where Dr. Cullen (sigh) sat chatting happily with
a woman who had grey hair.
Edward walked briskly over to the woman and shook her hand. "Good afternoon,
Mrs. Evans. How do you do?"
Mrs. Evans... weird. The woman visibly scoffed and swatted Edward's hand away.
"Edward, I'm not even going to consider your business proposal until you have given your
grandmamma a proper hug and kiss."
Edward's face drained of color as he cast a quick glance at me. "Really, Mrs. Evans, I
must object. This is a business conference, not a social function."
Dr. Cullen was attempting to stifle his laughter off to the side. What was so funny?
Edward had a point, and Mrs. Evans – his grandma, I corrected myself – was acting very
unprofessionally. And why was Edward so embarrassed? If I could manipulate my grandma
into giving me money, I totally would.
"Edward, dear, I will be dead soon. It is my God-given right to force my one and
only grandson into giving me sugar." Mrs. Evans didn't look like she was anywhere close to
dying. She actually looked spectacular for someone her age, but Edward acquiesced and gave
her what she wanted anyway. He's so good with old people…
"And who is your lady friend?" Mrs. Evans asked, turning her attention towards me.
Any nerves I had felt prior to meeting the investor quadrupled when I realized I was also
meeting Edward's grandmother. I smiled shyly at the woman as she assessed my appearance,
wishing I'd dressed up a bit more for the occasion.
"This is Isabella Swan, known only as Bella. She is my business associate, and on a
more personal note, she is my best friend… ever." The "ever" was quiet and tacked on as if
an afterthought, but I couldn't help the way my heart stammered or the blood rose to my

  24  
cheeks. He had stated my title with brazen confidence, and I tried to wrap my brain around
the meaning of his words. I was Edward Cullen's best friend… ever.
Pretending I had already known that little tidbit of information, I found myself
caring infinitely less about the impression his grandma had of me. I was his best friend… ever,
and that gave me more self-assurance than anything else in my entire life. I beamed.
I poised myself to shake Mrs. Evans' hand. Her grip was firm, as was mine, and
something, gratitude maybe, seemed to pass between her eyes before she broke contact and
turned back to Edward.
"Well, I'm glad you found an assistant. From what I hear, you're going to need one
with the updates you were wishing to make to your business. Would she be on salary, as well,
or on an hourly rate?"
That was news. I hadn't expected to actually make money if I worked for Edward –
not that I doubted his success or entrepreneurial skills. I thought we'd be doing this for fun.
"I actually haven't spoken to Bella about what she would prefer since she is still a
very recent addition. However, I believe a salary of four hundred and twenty five dollars per
month is appropriate. I included it in the new budget I faxed over to you yesterday."
"Oh no, you don't have to worry about that!" I rushed to say. "I really wasn't
expecting any compensation for working with Edward!" I was about to add that my reward
was being able to work with Edward, but I promptly shut my mouth before I could
humiliate myself.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Bella, dear," Mrs. Evans said. "I think four hundred and
twenty five dollars sounds perfect for a starting salary, and we'll talk about a raise after the
quarter is over."
"You didn't think I was going to pay you?" Edward looked upset and offended.
"You do want to work with me, don't you?"
I felt the blood drain from my face, and I was suddenly ashamed that Edward
thought I was rejecting his generosity. I lowered my voice, hoping only Edward would hear
me, as I said, "Of course I want to work with you. It's just that you're my best friend, too…
I would do it for free."
A blinding smile lit Edward's face at my declaration. And we stood there, staring at
each other until Dr. Cullen cleared his throat and said, "Great! Four hundred and twenty five
dollars a month it is. What is the next order of business?" We looked away from each other
quickly, slightly embarrassed at the gaze we had shared in front of his family.
Preoccupying myself by finding the first visual aid for Edward's presentation, he
began to speak. "As you know from our weekly statements, E.C.T-Shirts' sales on Ebay have
taken off in the last quarter." He gestured to the chart I held up for Mrs. Evans. "This
increase in profits looks very promising; however, we are not able to keep the entire profit
because we have to pay out a portion to Ebay with every transaction we make.
"Therefore, I propose that we take this business to a whole new level and start our
own website. Especially with The Lord of the Rings' first movie coming out so soon, people
will be clamoring for memorabilia. Here is an example of a shirt I designed just last week."
I pulled out the poster board with a drawing Edward had done with a wizard
silhouetted by the yellow diamond traffic sign that read, "You shall not pass."
"I think in order to maximize our profits, we need to expand to our own website and
start selling the T-shirts ourselves." Mrs. Evans listened intently while Edward spoke for a
few more minutes, explaining why the switch was necessary and the extra expenses that
would come with it, but why it would be worth it in the end.

  25  
 She looked pensive as she considered Edward's proposition. "This is all very good.
You clearly have done your homework. I'm with you for the most part, but there are two
things I would like to talk about before giving the final okay. If we are going to expand
E.C.T-Shirts into a website, it only makes sense that you expand the scope of T-shirts as
well. Enough of this 'One Ring to Rule Them All' mentality. I want to see more fandoms in
your line – Star Trek, for instance."
Edward gave her a hard stare, and she gave him one back. They just sat there, for
about a minute, before he snapped his gaze over to me. "Mrs. Evans is a Trekkie." I had no
idea what a Trekkie was, but from the way Edward spat the word, I could tell he didn't like
it.
"Now, Edward," Dr. Cullen piped in, "I happen to agree with your grandma. It's
important to include all franchises if you want to maximize the amount of people you reach.
Just think about how limiting it is if you are only producing memorabilia for one of the
fandoms out there. You could easily double or triple your profits by designing shirts for Star
Wars, Dungeons and Dragons, or even Harry Potter."
Edward's nose flared, and his eyes flashed dangerously at the mention of the HP-
words. He took several deep breaths before saying in an alarmingly controlled voice, "But I
don't know anything about those other fandoms. How am I supposed to design T-shirts for
something I know nothing about?"
"That's where Bella comes in!" Mrs. Evans said. "She can do research online, find
out what makes those markets tick, then report back to you. She can also find other people
who design shirts, and buy the copyright from them for a set fee."
The meeting didn't seem to be going in Edward's direction. He was still attempting
to remain composed. "But," he began forcefully, "the name of this company is E.C.T-Shirts,
as in Edward Cullen. I design them. That's how it's always been."
"Yes, that's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. E.C.T-Shirts isn't a
marketable title for the business. It's boring."
Edward visibly huffed. I did have to kind of agree with Mrs. Evans on this point.
The name was a little dry.
"And what did you have in mind?" Edward growled.
"Hmmm…" Mrs. Evans thought for a moment. "How about ThinkGeek.com?"
"Do you wish to insult our clientele, Mrs. Evans? We are not geeks!" I agreed;
Edward was many things, but a geek was definitely not one of them.
Dr. Cullen was chuckling in the corner again before he managed to straighten out
and suggest, "Ilovemyidoltees.com."
"No," Mrs. Evans spoke up before Edward had a chance to. "That's lame. How
about DorkSide.com?"
"That's worse than geeks!" Edward snarled.
"Mint-In-Box.com," Dr. Cullen chipped in again. We all stared back at him. "You
know, Mint-In-Box? Because you buy stuff and never open it and it stays in mint condition,
becoming a collector's item?"
"No," Mrs. Evans and Edward said at the same time.
Everyone went quiet for a few moments, all deep in concentration.
Mrs. Evans broke the silence with a snap of her fingers. "I've got it! MyT-Spot.com!"
For some reason, both she and Dr. Cullen broke out into hysterics. I was a little confused
because I actually liked that name, and it wasn't only because I wanted Mrs. Evans to like me
(though that helped).

  26  
 "I really like MyT-Spot," I said, hoping to contribute at least a little to the
conversation since I had no clever names to offer.
Mrs. Evans stopped laughing abruptly. "What did you just say, my dear?"
"I said that I really like MyT-Spot. I think it's witty." I moved my gaze over to
Edward for reassurance, but he was looking at me in a peculiar way.
"I really like it, too," Edward said after a few moments of silence.
"What? You can't use that!" Mrs. Evans practically shouted.
"Why not?" Edward asked. "You came up with it yourself; we'll give you the credit
on the site."
Dr. Cullen looked like he was fighting a smirk. "The boy does have a point,
Elizabeth."
"I still don't understand what the problem is," Edward hedged.
"It's just that the T-Spot rhymes with-"
"Elizabeth," Dr. Cullen cut off Mrs. Evans. "You did come up with it, and you will
get all the credit."
Mrs. Evans put her head in her hands. "Fine. MyT-Spot.com it is."
We spent another half hour with Mrs. Evans and Dr. Cullen going over the specifics
of the expansion and what Edward would have to do to accommodate more franchises in
his website. By the end, Edward had made a compromise that he would design for as many
fandoms as he could – excluding Harry Potter, since that would go against his moral beliefs
and honor – and Mrs. Evans had written him a huge check for the expenses, including my
first paycheck.

COMP520072: This is Edward Cullen to Bella Swan.

So we were back to this again.

COMP520073: wat can i do for u?

COMP520072: I would like to request your presence at the midnight showing of
The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring on December 18th.
COMP520072: As my date.

  27  
 Chapter 6: The First Time They Went On a Date

It had taken me all of three seconds to respond to Edward's IM, telling him that I
most definitely would be his date to the midnight showing of The Lord of the Rings.
I mean, when my father found out, I would be dead. And obviously, a date until four
o'clock in the morning was a little past my curfew. Those little details I could work out later,
because the only thing that mattered was that I was going on an actual date with Edward
Cullen (and his father). I departed from Yearbook with a broad grin and a spring in my step.
Ms. Evans had asked Edward to stay after class, so he wasn't able to walk with me to my
next class, but not even that was enough to contain my soaring spirit.
Out of nowhere I felt someone shove me in the back – hard. I turned around and
met the malicious eyes of Alice f-word Brandon. "Oops," she said innocently, but the sneer
on her face didn't mask her guilt. Her eyes lit up like a demon's as she roughly pushed past
me, knocking the textbooks from my arms.
Irritated but not surprised by her behavior, I bent down to pick up my books and
nearly bumped heads with another student who had come over to help. "Hi, I'm Bella," I
said cheerfully (Alice f-word Brandon's antics could not possibly dampen my post-Edward
bliss).
The girl smiled and extending her hand to me. "I know. My name is Angela. We
actually have English and Pre-Algebra together."
I searched my brain for any recognition of her, and came up empty. Huh. Now that I
thought about it, I actually didn't know that many people at school. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I
guess I've been really caught up in–"
"Daydreaming about Edward Cullen," she said.
"I was actually going to say paying attention to the teacher."
Angela laughed – actually laughed – at that. "Oh please, Bella. You aren't fooling
anyone here. No offense, but it's kind of obvious. Especially when you scribble Edward's
name on your notebook in gel-pen for everyone to see."
My face flushed. I really didn't think I had been that conspicuous. And gel-pens were
supposed to be nearly invisible on white paper. I wondered if Edward had noticed… Angela
kept giggling, though there was nothing malicious in her laughter. Finally, I let it go and
chuckled along with her. It couldn't be too bad if he had still asked me out on a date.
"Come on, we better get to class or we'll be late," she said.
After our first encounter, Angela and I became good friends. It was nice having
someone other than my diary to confide my feelings for Edward to, and in return she talked
to me about a crush she had on Ben Cheney. She was even there to help me tell Charlie of
my fast approaching first date with Edward. At first, I thought I'd need her there as a buffer
so he wouldn't yell too loudly at me. But after I told him, he kind of looked at me weirdly,
made a rumbling noise that sounded like a growl, and walked into the living room to drink
beer and watch baseball.
My mother was a completely different story. She shrieked over the phone for an
hour, questioning me on every detail from how he asked me to what I was planning on
wearing. She was almost more enthusiastic about my date than I was. Almost. "It's just that
you were a late bloomer," she explained to me after I mentioned this to her. "I mean, you're

  28  
already so grown up and in eighth grade. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever find a boy
you liked."
For some reason, she said to make sure I was "being safe" with Edward. I told her
she didn't have to worry because Edward would never let anything happen to me. She
laughed at me and dropped the s-word (and by s-word, I meant sex). I stopped listening to
her then and abruptly ended the call. Whenever Renee mentioned the s-word (sex), I seemed
to end up with a bad case of word vomit or dressed like a Barbie doll.
Edward. I wistfully sighed at the mere thought of his name. Edward was…perfect.
Our date was coming up this weekend, and I was seriously freaking out. It'd been about a
month since he'd asked me out and things were going great. We saw each other every
morning in Yearbook and three days a week I would go over to his house to work on MyT-
Spot.com. I still hadn't met his mother, which I thought was a little weird, but I really
enjoyed spending time at his house. Sometimes Edward's grandma would drop in to see how
the research was going, and on more than one occasion, Dr. Cullen actually joined us for
brainstorming sessions (I guiltily admitted that those times were my favorite).
I was beginning to notice some rather surprising changes in myself. For one, I
couldn't look at any other guy without seeing some sort of trait that Edward possessed; like a
boy's nose would be a similar shape to Edward's or he would wear a T-shirt that reminded
me of MyT-Spot, which would of course remind me of Edward.
The urge to scream at the top of my lungs, "I love, Edward! He's my guy and I don't
care if you like him!" whenever a girl looked in his direction was also growing. There was
one day in Yearbook where Alice f-word Brandon came over and tried to flirt with Edward
right in front of me. I almost lost it then, but managed to contain the impulse until I could
get home and call the radio station.
That night I dedicated “He Loves You Not” by Dream to Alice (using different
aliases of course).
I sang along with the song as loudly as I could,

“It doesn't matter what you do,

he's never going to be with you.
He's into what he's got.
He loves me, he loves you not.”

I then bought the CD and played that song on repeat for five days straight before
Charlie came in and confiscated it. I felt better after that.

"Hi."
"Hi."
"Hi," he said again.
"Hi," I said again.
We stood there next to the parking lot, kind of smiling and looking into each other's
eyes. It was a perfect moment… that only Alice f-word Brandon could ruin. "It really is
disgusting, isn't it?" she said loudly.
I broke eye contact with Edward and glanced over at her in annoyance. "What do
you want?" I asked. She was standing next to Rosalie, who rolled her eyes and walked back
into the school.

  29  
 Alice huffed at her friend's retreating back, then turned her attention back to us.
"Edward," she purred, "I was wondering if you were going to see the new Lord of the Rings
movie tomorrow. I remember how much you like it from that time I came over your house
and saw your room."
I was going to slap that bitch (mental wrist-slap) one of these days.
"Actually," Edward said, puffing out his chest, "I'm going tonight to the midnight
showing." He looked back at me and said in a timid voice, "And Bella is coming with me."
I felt, more than saw, Alice's increasing anger, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I
wouldn't care about breathing if Edward kept looking at me like that. "You know the only
reason why a girl would go and see that movie is because of all the hot guys in it, right?"
Edward's eyes shot to Alice's face. "What are you talking about?"
"Yeah," Alice continued, "like that one guy – Legolas. Or maybe I should call him
Legol-Ass. Seriously, that guy is such a babe."
A worried expression crossed Edward's features. He was so cute, worrying that I
might actually be going just to watch the hot men on the big screen. I probably wouldn't
even be paying attention to the movie with Edward sitting right next to me.
Still, it would be a missed opportunity not to mess with his mind a little. "I know
exactly what you mean, Alice," I said.
"You do?" Edward asked, equally surprised and dejected.
"Oh, yeah. I'm particularly fond of Orcs, especially ones with huge thighs. The loin
cloth really does it for me." I started laughing, and Edward's shocked expression turned into
a giant smile. I hardly noticed Alice stalking away, as Edward and I wiggled back in our little,
impenetrable bubble.
"So…" I racked my brain for something to say and was coming up empty.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Umm… what time did you say you were coming to pick me up tonight?" I, of
course, knew this information – I'd been repeatedly writing it in my diary for weeks. But I
was lame and couldn't think of anything else to keep him talking.
"I'll be there at seven o'clock on the dot," he said.
"Okay," I nodded in agreement. We stood there for a few more moments, just
looking at each other. "Okay, I'll see you then."
I started to leave but Edward practically shouted, "Wait Bella!"
I turned around and walked the three steps back to him, my heart pounding. I loved
it when he said my name. "Yes, Edward?"
"Umm…" he seemed to be struggling as badly as I was with finding words. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you ask the time?"
Oh, shit (I mentally slapped myself on the wrist for thinking the real s-word). Would
I look pathetic if I told him I just wanted to hear his voice again? For the rest of eternity…
"I just, uh, ya know, wanted to make sure that the plan was still the same," I
stumbled through an explanation.
"Oh," he said with a nod, "okay, I'll see you tonight." He turned around, and I
watched him walk away.
Until about five seconds later when I decided I wanted to talk to him again.
"Edward, wait!"
He turned around and quickly walked back to me, with a large smile on his face.
"Yes?"

  30  
 Oh, shit (mental slap). I really needed a topic of conversation. "Umm… Okay, I
need to ask you a question," I hedged for time to come up with something interesting to say.
Edward nodded encouragingly.
"I was just wondering… do I need to bring anything with me tonight?" Lame.
For some reason Edward's face brightened. "Nope, I have everything covered."
"Right." We had actually discussed this earlier in the week. What was wrong with
me?
"Okay."
"Okay."
"Okay," he said again.
"Okay," I said again.
"Okay," he said for a third time. Why was he standing there? Why was I standing
there?
"Okay, bye," I said, attempting to leave before something even more stupid came out
of my mouth. Apparently, though, my voice wasn't finished talking to him and my body
seemed in compliance with my mouth. "Just one more thing," I said, turning back towards
him and practically jogging to where he was still standing watching me walk away.
I was really stammering for a question at this point. And what was even more
surprising was that Edward seemed to be hanging on my every word… too bad no words
were actually coming out. Dr. Cullen saved me by pulling up in his car and calling for
Edward.
"You know, I'll just ask you tonight."
"No, it's all right. Please ask me now," Edward said earnestly. "My dad can wait."
"Oh." I asked the first question that popped in my head. "Did you want to work on
MyT-Spot over Christmas break?"
"Yes, I would really like to do that."
"Right," I said, ever the idiot. "Okay, bye."

Charlie brought home a pizza after work and insisted we have an early dinner before
my date with Edward. We sat at the dining room table in an awkward silence, chewing our
pizza and avoiding each other's eyes.
I had just finished my second slice and was standing up to wash my dishes when
Charlie cleared his throat. "Um, why don't you sit down for a moment."
Oh God, no.
I hesitantly sat down in my seat again and waited for Charlie to say something. He
sat back in his chair, beer bottle in hand. I could feel him assessing me with his penetrating
stare. Finally, he sat up straight and folded his hands in front of him.
"Bella," he began, "I'm not sure if I'm completely comfortable with you dating at
such a young age."
"It's all right, Dad," I said quickly. "Dr. Cullen will be there, and I promise we won't
do anything wrong."
"I know that, but I got you something just in case." He pulled two items from a
paper bag by his feet and placed them in front of me. I would never understand how
Charlie's brain worked. The first item, pepper-spray, I could understand to some extent even
if it was over the top. But the second item...
"A whistle?" I asked incredulously. "Seriously, what am I going to do with a whistle?"

  31  
 "You blow on it."
"No, duh. But I doubt my attacker, no matter how generous he may be, is going to
give me the time to reach into my purse and blow my whistle."
Charlie rolled his eyes. "That's why they put a lanyard on the end of it – so you can
wear it around your neck. Duh."
"You…you want me to wear this thing on my date?" I asked in horror.
He didn't even try to deny it. "Fine. I'll just call mom and see what she has to say
about it."
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." He seemed to be having trouble
coming up with the right words. "Look, I know what your mother can be like when it comes
to certain, er, things." He abruptly broke eye contact and looked back down at his hands.
"Sex, I mean sex."
Oh. My. God.
"Dad! Please stop!" I was practically shouting. It was already humiliating enough
talking about this with Renee; the last thing I ever wanted to do was talk about this with my
father.
"No," he said determinately, "it's really important that we talk about–"
"No, it's not! I'm only thirteen! Trust me; you have NOTHING to worry about."
He nodded in agreement but pushed forward anyway. "Maybe you feel that way now,
but things change when you meet someone. You start feeling… different."
My face was burning, and I was either on the verge of laughter or tears. "Please,
stop," I asked weakly.
"I just want to make sure you know that, despite what your mother may say, you
don't have to do anything you don't want to do." I prayed that would be the end of his
speech. But no. "And if you and Edward do ever decide to, uh, take that step, I want you to
feel free to come to me and we can maybe set up a doctor's appointment or talk about it or...
something."
That would never happen.
I abruptly stood up from my chair. "I need to go get ready," I said, fleeing to my
room, effectively ending the conversation and not giving Charlie a chance to respond. I
couldn't believe that had just happened. It was the most mortifying experience in the history
of the world, and it just had to happen right before the biggest night of my life.
Edward had mentioned that people normally dressed up for midnight showings. I
thought that was a little weird; we were only going to a movie theater, but I decided to wear
a skirt and blouse anyway. I didn't want to do anything overly drastic with my hair and make-
up because, as Edward put it, I wasn't cut out to be a Barbie doll. So I sat in front of the
mirror, contemplating if I really was pretty until the doorbell rang.
For about three seconds, I debated whether or not to allow Charlie to open the door
so Edward could watch me sashay down the stairs in my date attire like the girl in She's All
That. I quickly dismissed that idea, realizing it would leave about twenty seconds of alone
time between Charlie and Edward, and that was twenty seconds too many. Not to mention I
was too clumsy to sashay down anything.
I practically ran down the stairs to get to the door before Charlie did, but the three
seconds hesitation on my part had given him the advantage, and he was already standing in
the doorway, blocking my view of Edward and muttering something in a low voice that I
couldn't hear. This needed to stop now.

  32  
 "Dad," I said sharply, interrupting whatever threats he was sending to Edward. He
looked back at me with a gleam in his eye and a smirk on his face.
"Your date's here," he said, unusually cheerful. I was confused about how Charlie
could have gone from disapproving to downright jolly in less than an hour. That is, until he
stepped away from the doorframe, and I could finally see Edward on the porch and his
father by the car behind him.
Oh. My. God.
Dr. Cullen was dressed like an elf. Edward was dressed like a hobbit. And I was
going to look like the idiot.

"I wanted to be an elf," Edward whispered to me in the backseat of Dr. Cullen's

Mercedes. "But my mom said I was too short."
"That's ridiculous!" I said.
Edward frowned, "No, it isn't. I would never want to do anything to compromise
the integrity of Tolkien's work and he says, 'For they are a little people, smaller than dwarves;
less stout and stocky, that is, even when they are not actually much shorter,’ " he quoted. "It
describes me perfectly…"
I really didn't want our date to start off with Edward looking so dejected. "But
hobbits are also awesome! I mean, ultimately, it's the hobbits that save the day, right?"
"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said with a small smile, not entirely convinced.
So, as quietly as I could, I told him, "And I happen to think hobbits are much cuter
than elves."
There was a loud, choking sound from the front seat. I glanced at Dr. Cullen, who
seemed to be having trouble with a coughing fit.
"Are you all right, Dad?" Edward asked, worriedly.
"Yeah, just fine, son," Dr. Cullen said between coughs as he pounded his chest with
his fist.
It took another few moments before Dr. Cullen could catch his breath. I looked him
over once more. He had extensions of long, blond hair that flowed freely down his back,
except for a few strands that were braided back into a ponytail. His ears were pointed, and
he wore a deep green costume with a hooded cape and a bow and arrow at his side.
He looked good. Like really, really good.
I turned my attention back to Edward, who was giving me a suspicious look. He also
wore pointed ears, but his hair was his own and more wild and curly than I had ever seen it
before.
Yeah, hobbits were definitely cuter than elves.
When we arrived at the movie theater, I was a little distraught to find that there was a
long line of people waiting and most of them were in some sort of costume (though none of
them came even close to the accuracy and precision of Edward's outfit). I felt ridiculously
out of place in my stupid, boring, normal human clothes. Some of the girls looked incredible
in their medieval-like costumes.
Edward's arm immediately shot out to stop me when I started walking. "Where are
you going?"
"Um, to the end of the line?"
"I don't think so; I've got connections."

  33  
 Sigh. He was so cute when he was happy. I followed him to the very front of the
line, where a group of people sat in front of what looked like a Lord of the Rings board game.
As soon as they saw us approaching, a boy dressed as a dwarf jumped up and held out his
hand to Edward. "Vedui' il'er," he said welcomingly.
Edward took his hand and shook it. "Nae saian luume.'"
The boy turned towards me and smiled. "Mani he essa en lle?"
"Melamin, Bella," Edward replied. As much as I enjoyed his Elvish, this was going to
get old very fast.
"Vanimle sila tiri," the boy said smoothly, now taking my hand and kissing it. It was
kind of disgusting, even if the beard was fake.
I turned back to Edward in confusion, only to find a stony look on his face. "She
doesn't speak Elvish," he said a little aggressively.
The boy's smile didn't waver. "Ah, I just said that your beauty shines bright. Edward
is a lucky hobbit."
My cheeks flooded with color. I looked over at Edward, who was studying his hairy
hobbit feet a little too thoroughly.
Dr. Cullen seemed to be having another coughing fit.
At ten o'clock, Edward brought out a basket of food from the car. We had been
waiting in line for two hours, which was nothing compared to the two nights Edward's
friends had spent in front of the theater just to be the first in line to see the movie.
I found out that Edward had met Laurent, Victoria, and James through his online
role-playing group. (I really needed to look up what role-playing was.) The three of them
gathered around the small LotR Trivial Pursuit game-board, while Edward and I opted to sit
in cushy lawn chairs that he had brought. The date was perfect even though it wasn't actually
the romantic, candle-lit first date I had always expected. That is, until Edward placed a picnic
blanket on the ground and lit up a few tea candles.
Chocolate covered strawberries, peanut-butter cookies, and apples with caramel were
placed on the blanket with Edward's precision and care. He poured sparkling apple cider
into crystal wine glasses and gave the most profound and thoughtful toast before lightly
clinging our glasses together.
It really was too bad that we didn't get to eat or drink any of it.
Right as I took the first sip, the theater doors opened up and all hell broke loose.
What was wrong with LotR fans? I swore it was as though a thousand lost souls were
clamoring to cross from purgatory into the kingdom of heaven. There was pushing, hitting,
and clawing as the entire crowd attempted to get the best seats in the theater.
And once we were actually there, in the darkened theater, eating popcorn and
watching the movie, people kept shouting random things at the screen. This was made
infinitely worse when half the theater would then yell at that one person to shut up. By two
hours into the movie, my eyes were getting droopy and I was finding it hard to follow the
story with the constant interruptions.
It was the time of my life.
Whenever an Orc would come out on screen, Edward would nudge my arm and
wink at me. His wink took my breath away. On the other hand, he would scoff and scowl
whenever Legolas had a line. His reactions were so predictable and cute that I found myself
watching him more than the movie. If he noticed, he didn't say anything.
I was just losing the battle of keeping my eyes open, when I felt a small pressure on
my hand. Immediately at attention, I looked over at Edward. He was intently watching his

  34  
fingers trace patterns along my own. He threaded our fingers together and looked up at me
to see if I was all right with it.
My breathing stopped.
I tightened my grip on his hand and turned back to the screen. There was a large
battle going on in the movie with plenty of "hot Orc-meat" but I couldn't see any of it. The
electricity that buzzed between my body and Edward's blinded me, setting my soul on fire.
The passion I felt for him flooded me to the point where I thought my head would explode
if I didn't stand up in the theater and scream at the top of my lungs that I loved Edward
Cullen. Part of me believed that if I did, he just might scream it back.

"So you had a good time?" Edward asked me for the twentieth time since we had
gotten out of the movie.
"Of course I did, Edward," I responded again. It had been the most wonderful night
of my life, but I thought it might be a little pathetic for me to tell him that. "Did you have a
good time?"
"Yes. Frankly, it was probably the most wonderful night of my life."
Oh.
"Although," Edward continued thoughtfully, "I do wish they hadn't gotten such a
pansy to play Legolas."
I laughed at that, before turning back to Edward. He was staring at me. I stared back.
Dr. Cullen interrupted us by clearing his throat. He must be getting sick…
"Bella, we're here," he said. I looked around and was surprised to find that we were
parked in front of my father's house.
Edward hopped out of the car and opened my door for me. Such a gentleman. "I
have something for you," he said as he opened the trunk of the car and pulled out a beautiful
bouquet of flowers.
"What's this?" I asked, as he handed them to me.
"They're, uh, they're daisies." He nervously ran his hands through his hair. "They
make me think about you."
"Really? Why is that?"
He shook his head and smiled. "I'll tell you about it later. I think your father is
waiting for you."
I looked at the front porch and frowned when I saw my dad's silhouette leaning in
the doorway. I wasn't especially surprised that Charlie had waited up until 4:30 in the
morning for me to return. But did he seriously have to wait in the door like that?
I turned back to Edward. "Sorry about that."
"It's not a problem."
What were we supposed to do now? It's not like I could kiss or hug him with both
our dads watching. Edward seemed to be thinking the same thing as I was because he held
out his hand. "Thank you for the pleasure of your company tonight."
"And thank you for inviting me," I replied, shaking his hand. Slowly our hands
separated, and I turned around to walk to my house.
"Bella, wait!" Edward called after me.
I spun around and walked back to him. "Yes?"
"Er, there was something I wanted to tell you."

  35  
 "What's up?" What's up! He'd just given me the best night of my life and all I can say
was what's up!
"It's just that, um, well… I'm sorry about the picnic. I promise to do better next
time," he said.
"Next time?" I asked hopefully.
"I mean, do you want there to be a next time?"
Hell yes, I wanted there to be a next time.
"Hell yes, I want there to be a next time." I suppressed a cringe at my use of the
word "hell," but Edward laughed, and I ended up laughing with him.
"Good night."
"Good night, Edward." I said with one last wistful look into his eyes.
I was beginning to walk back towards the house again, when Edward's hand caught
me around the wrist and pulled me back towards him.
"There was something else I wanted to tell you," he whispered.
"What is it?" I whispered back.
He paused and looked down at his furry hobbit feet, instead of in my eyes. "It's just
that, I think you looked really pretty tonight."
I was floating as I walked back to Charlie (which was really hard for someone as
clumsy as me to accomplish).
"So, I take it the date went pretty well," Charlie said.
"It was perfect." I watched Edward and Dr. Cullen drive away.
Charlie shocked me by saying, "I guess he is a nice kid."
"Yeah, I'll admit I was surprised that you didn't freak out on him today. I was
worried you'd have your gun with you or threaten to dismember him the first time you guys
met."
"Oh, that wasn't the first time we've met," Charlie said smugly.
"What?" I snapped.
He had a gleam in his eye as he said, "The first time I met Edward Cullen was the
day after you moved here. He came to the station and asked my permission to court you."
Huh?
Charlie's expression was priceless. "I still have his business card."

  36  
 Chapter 7: The First Time He Kissed Her

December 23, 2001

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I called Edward and we talked for a while. He told me that he loved talking to me
and that it was even better than online role-playing with his LotR friends. I can't even begin
to tell you how hard it was for me not to squeal out loud when he said that. He's invited
me over to his house later today, and I'm SO excited to give him his Christmas presents!

In the last five days, we've already gone to see the Lord of the Rings TWICE and that's not
even counting the first time we saw it at the midnight showing. I have to say, the movie
itself is getting kind of boring, but both times Edward held my hand through the entire movie!
OMG, I can't even begin to tell you how perfect and cute it is! Last time, he just reached over
and grabbed it without even asking me. I like that side of Edward!

But seriously, how hard is it to get a freakin' first kiss? I want a movie kiss! Something
romantic and sweet. I just can't help the urge! It's growing!

I should probably go get ready…

Bella Swan

P.S. I want my first kiss!

Being in Edward's bedroom had always given me butterflies. No matter how many
times I'd entered his room in the past few months, it was always a thrill to walk in and see
the same hand-painted Elvish on the wall and the gold and blue coverlet on his bed.
This time was different. Edward had redecorated. Kind of.
It surprised even me how quickly my eyes were able to find the two new additions to
Edward's room, considering that the size of the space was massive in comparison to the two
picture frames, each holding a four by six inch photo. But there they were on his desk. One
was a picture of me standing at the dance with a camera in hand, oblivious to the fact that a
picture was being taken of me. The other was a picture of Edward and me dancing (before
the epic failure of Alice f-word Brandon) with his arms around my waist and my hands
around his neck.
I walked over to Edward's desk and picked up the picture of us dancing.
"Where did you get this?" I asked, startled by the look of utter contentment
displayed on both mine and Edward's faces.
Edward was doing that weird thing again where he refused to look me in the eye as
he shuffled his feet and tugged at his hair. "Well, um, I took the first one when you weren't
looking, and my mom took that one while we were dancing. You don't mind it, do you?"
"Yeah, I definitely mind that you have a copy of this and I don't," I said.
Edward's face lit up with that amazing smile I loved so much, and then we did that
thing we always did where we stared at each other with goofy expressions. To be honest, it
was getting kind of old. There was only so long you could stare at someone (though

  37  
Edward's staring shelf-life was a lot longer than most people's) before you needed to move
your relationship to the next level.
I'd been thinking about it a lot lately (since about three seconds after I met Edward),
and I was ready for us to move our relationship to the next level. Renee had always told me
to let the boy set the pace. The problem was that Edward seemed content moving forward
at the pace of a dying snail. Even Charlie would be content at the rate we were progressing. It
was maddening!
"Do you want to see what I got you for Christmas?" Edward asked.
"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything," I said.
Edward playfully argued, "But you got me something."
"Well… yeah, I did," I conceded lamely. I had actually gotten Edward two gifts. The
first I knew Edward was going to freak out about and absolutely adore. The second was a bit
more personal. I actually hadn't one hundred percent decided if I was going to give it to him
yet. Luckily, it was small enough that it didn't need to be wrapped, and could be hidden in
my hoodie pocket. If I decided not to give it to him, he would never know.
I walked over to where I had accidentally/on-purpose dropped his first present next
to the bed. This had become a little game to me. It was always fun to see how Edward would
react whenever I was within a yard of his bed. Normally his face would turn a pale shade of
pink, his mouth would pop open, and he'd get a concentrated expression, as if he was
reciting times tables in his head.
The best part, though, was when he would try to find some excuse for me not to be
near the bed. One time he actually told me that he had broken the headboard, so it was a
safety precaution not to go near it. I couldn't imagine Edward doing anything with so much
force that it would inflict damage to the headboard, but then again I had no idea what he
was like in bed.
Okay, even in my mind that sounded dirty.
True to our game, when I turned back to Edward his face was pink, and he had on
that weird expression. "Um, the headboard still isn't structurally sound. Maybe we should,
you know, open presents over by the window… where there is a cool breeze… and you are
safe."
He was too easy. I smugly obliged his request, walking over to the large, bay window
and taking a seat on the window bench, while he went to his closet to grab two packages.
The butterflies made an encore appearance when he sat next to me and held out the first
gift. "This one first," he said.
I dug through the tissue paper to the bottom of the bag, pulling out a T-shirt. It had
"I Love Orc-Meat" on the front and the back said, "Big Thighs + Loin Cloths Kick Legol-
Ass Any Day." I laughed, not only at the design, but at the realization I'd probably be getting
T-shirts for every Christmas and birthday present as long as Edward and I were affiliated.
"I designed it for you," Edward said. There was so much excitement in his tone that
I laughed even harder.
"I figured," I said. "Thank you so much, I love it!"
I put the T-shirt back in the gift bag and looked up at Edward to find him studying
me in a peculiar way. The smile was still on his face, but it was different now – it was more
guarded, and I didn't understand the reason for the shift. "This is for you as well," he said,
handing me the flat, square package that was much heavier than the other present.
He watched me closely as I opened the gift, and I hoped the gasp I released upon
unwrapping the leather-bound photo album was the reaction he was looking for. I flipped

  38  
the cover open and saw the picture of us dancing. The next page and all the pages after were
filled with photos of me that I never knew he had taken, some with me sitting with Angela
and others during random school events that we'd photographed together for the yearbook.
There were also a lot of pictures of us in Yearbook class.
"How did you get these?" I asked in awe, looking through one picture after another
of us sitting in front of the computers, making up task lists, or simply gazing into each
other's eyes.
"Um, that really doesn't, ya know, matter," he stumbled over his words. I looked at
him curiously, before he hurried to ask, "So, do you like it?"
"Like it? Edward, I love this." He had gone through and embellished each page with
drawings of daisies, and I silently traced each one with my finger until I got to the last page. I
froze. "What is this?" I asked of the peculiar drawing.
Edward cleared his throat gruffly. "That's a fanart drawing I did of Aragorn and
Arwen together in Rivendell."
I looked closer at the drawing. "But Edward, Arwen's face doesn't really look like
Arwen. It kind of looks like... me."
"Well, I may have, um, altered, the drawing a little bit to put you in there instead of
Arwen. I did the same with Aragorn, except that it's me there, not you," he murmured in a
lower voice.
I kept my head down and my eyes focused on the page so Edward couldn't see me
trying not to laugh. It wasn't that I didn't find the picture endearing; as a matter of fact, I
thought it was the sweetest thing ever. In about thirty seconds Edward was going to realize
how perfect for each other we were. "This is the best gift anyone has ever given me," I said,
looking up. "I love it. Thank you so much."
That beaming smile returned to Edward's face. "Mine next!" I handed him the long,
thin package, now anxious for him to open his gift. It had taken most of my first paycheck
to afford the replica of Aragorn's sword, but the way Edward's face lit up when he opened
the box made every cent worth it. Judging by the three times we had already gone to see Lord
of the Rings, and taking into account the lovely picture Edward had drawn of himself as
Aragorn, I figured I had probably made the right choice with the purchase.
"This is amazing!" Edward practically squealed, pulling the sword out of the box and
brandishing it in the air.
"Well, I figured that you might like to go as Aragorn to the midnight showing next
year since you'll have outgrown your hobbit costume." I was thrilled he seemed so delighted
in my gift. "But there is one thing - the guy I bought it from told me it was bad luck to give
someone I like a sword, knife, or dagger, so you have to buy it from me."
Edward laughed. "Bad luck?"
"Well apparently, it cuts the friendship. Do you really want dark forces working
against us? I think one shiny penny is a fair price."
Edward dug into his jeans, muttering, "Yeah, we definitely don't want that." His
hand surfaced from his pocket victorious and dropped a penny in my palm – I would
treasure that penny always. Our eyes met and we shared one of our infinite stares,
contentment mirrored in both our smiles. It was a perfect moment, but it still wasn't enough
for me.
"I have one more thing for you," I whispered, worried about breaking the magical
connection I felt with him. This gift had the potential to either seal our future together or
diminish it completely.

  39  
 He nodded encouragingly, and I reached inside my hoodie pocket to retrieve the
second gift. "You wouldn't be Aragorn," I said, "if you didn't have Arwen's Evenstar." I held
out the replica of the pendant necklace Arwen had given Aragorn to represent her love and
devotion to him. My gaze dropped to the floor as I continued with the rest of the speech I
had prepared. "Only, it isn't Arwen's Evenstar I'm giving you. I'm offering mine, if you want
it."
Hopefully the undertone of my metaphor was clear. I was offering my heart to him
with this Evenstar. He could take it or leave it. It was silent in the room, and I couldn't bring
myself to look at him until he breathed a nearly silent, "Bella."
Slowly, I lifted my eyes to his face. He sat there, mouth slightly agape, for what felt
like forever. Say something, I silently willed. He didn't. "This was a stupid idea," I said,
humiliation crashing over me like a bucket of cold water. My cheeks flushed a deep shade of
red as I prepared to get up and leave.
"Wait!" Edward shouted. My skin throbbed from where he had reached out to grab
my wrist. Heat and electricity flowed from his touch. It was unnerving. Jerking forward
slightly, his eyes held mine with an imploring look for only a second more before they
flickered down to my lips, and I understood his unasked question.
Oh. My. God.
Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Edward Cullen wanted to kiss me. Oh, my God.
I didn't know how to indicate that I was more than all right with it, so I settled for
leaning closer to him. I could hear his breathing accelerate and imagined that his heart was
beating as fast as mine. Slowly, we inched towards each other, gauging the other's reaction.
Time seemed to accelerate, and yet the moment couldn't come quickly enough.
A small smile flickered on Edward's face. "Amin mela lle," he whispered, before my
eyes fluttered close and his lips met mine.
And we were kissing. And it was glorious.
And apparently Edward didn't know what to do anymore than I did because our lips
touched for a few more moments (I counted up to three), before he pulled back and gave
me the most breathtaking smile I had ever seen.
"That was wonderful," he said. "Exactly as I always imagined it would be!"
"Really?" I asked. It wasn't that kissing Edward hadn't been the best three moments
of my entire life (because they definitely were). It just wasn't the movie kiss I had always
imagined.
"Yes." He was so elated and sincere that I couldn't doubt him. I'd have bet the smile
that lit my face at his declaration was as bright as his. "Can, um, can we do it again?"
I eagerly nodded and leaned in. He had just started kissing me once more when there
was a loud knock on his bedroom door, and it abruptly opened to a woman walking in,
carrying a laundry basket. "Edward, honey, some of the stains on your bed sheets weren't
coming out so I went ahead and-"
"MOM!" Edward shrieked.
The woman's head snapped up from the laundry basket, and my eyes practically fell
out of my head when I recognized her.
For an immeasurable moment the three of us sat in complete silence, the puzzle
pieces falling together in my head. I didn't know what was weirder – that Edward's mother
had walked in on us kissing or that she was the same person as our yearbook teacher, Ms.
Evans.
"Is there something you forgot to tell me, Edward?"

  40  
 Chapter 8: An Interlude: The Introduction of Swirl

Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan

I ignored him, deciding instead to continue working on the Basketball page of the
yearbook.

Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan

I ignored him again, and again, and again. "I'm going to keep doing this until you
reply to me," he turned to me and said. My heart was beating a million miles per second, but
I managed to stay focused on the computer screen. "Fine. Have it your way."
Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan
Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan
Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan
Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan
Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan
Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan
Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan
Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan
Comp520072: Edward Cullen to Bella Swan

"Okay, will you stop it already? What do you want?"

Comp520072: I'm sorry.

"Oh please! Tell it to somebody who cares." I turned back to my computer.

"But you don't understand–"
"Of course I don't understand! How could I possibly understand something you
never explained to me?" I asked.
"But I've been trying to explain it to you–"
"I don't care, Edward." Despite how much I said it, the fact of the matter was that I
did care. I cared so much my heart hurt.
Ignoring Edward for the past week and a half had been torture, and he hadn't made
it easier. On a daily basis he would come and drop a bouquet of daisies off at my house,
leaving the most sentimental and beautiful notes with them. Of course, after reading them,
I'd ritually burned each one with a scented candle.
Maybe that was mean, but I couldn't bring myself to forgive him. Every time I
thought back to that day, the humiliation would increase tenfold.

Ms. Evans was Edward's mom. Edward's mom equaled Ms. Evans. Ms. Evans and Edward's
mom were one and the same.
No matter how I rearranged the words in my head, I always came to the same
conclusion – this was not good.
I didn't know what was more humiliating: that Edward's mom had walked in on us
while we were kissing, or that I had poured my heart out to Ms. Evans in the museum

  41  
bathroom about a boy that turned out to be her son. Did she know that I hadn't known who
she was? And how had I not realized she was his mother? I mean, I'd become pretty stupid
about anything non-Edward related, but Ms. Evans was related to him. Literally. She'd given
birth to him.
"Hello, Bella," Edward's mom/Ms. Evans said.
I looked over at Edward for reassurance, but he appeared to be frozen. Coward. I
ventured on alone. "Um, hello, Ms. Evans."
"Oh, you really don't have to call me that while we're at the house," she said. "You
can call me Esme. Or, if it makes you more comfortable, Mrs. Cullen."
Mrs. Cullen. Huh. I guess there was kind of a large possibility I would also be a Mrs.
Cullen one day (if I ever decided to forgive Edward). Before I could get distracted with that
train of thought, I answered her with a positively brilliant, "Okay."
We sat there for another ten seconds (I counted) before Esme/Mrs. Cullen/Ms.
Evans determined I had suffered long enough and decided to kindly remove herself from
Edward's room. "Well, I'm going to leave this here." She plopped the laundry basket down
on the floor. "When Edward comes around, please ask him to come see me after you leave.
And, I'm going to leave this door wide open for now. Carlisle and I are both right next door
if you need us."
My face flooding with heat, and I was too mortified to answer. She had pulled the
"leave the door wide open" card. She had seen everything.
"Oh, and Bella? Don't give him too hard of a time. It's never easy being the teacher's
kid," she added. I had just kissed Edward Cullen and his mother was winking at me. There
were no words…
Edward hadn't moved a muscle since his mother's appearance. I shook my head and
stood up, needing to get out of this weird dimension where everything was backwards.
"Where are you going?" he murmured. Oh, so he is alive.
"I'm leaving," I said, collecting my things and debating whether to leave my presents
here. They were good memories of all the times I had shared with Edward. If we couldn't
work it out, I wanted something wonderful to remember our time together.
"Wait! I can explain." Edward jumped from the chair and snatched my photo album
from me.
"How, Edward? It's been months and you never bothered to explain anything! How
can I trust you if you won't trust me?" I attempted to grab the photo album back, but instead
knocked it from his arms. It tumbled open to the first page, the one with the picture of us
dancing. I couldn't contain the tears as I ran from his room, leaving the album behind in my
haste to get away.

The bell rang and I finally escaped Yearbook and Edward's relentless attempts to get
back in my good graces. I avoided him as much as I could during the rest of the school day,
and at the end of it, I went home to wait for him to show up with another bouquet of daisies
and a love note.
Except that he never did. My cinnamon-scented candle and I sat in the living room
for hours waiting for him. I began to panic when Charlie came home at seven. Edward
would never risk showing up while my dad was here.
Oh, my God. Was he giving up? Had I driven him away? Moisture filled my eyes at that
thought. I was only going to make him suffer a few days more before I forgave him, but I

  42  
might not even get that chance now. The tears flowed freely as I considered a world without
Edward in my life. It was a devastating place, with no hope and no sun. I wouldn't love again
because he was my one true love.
How stupid and foolish had I been? What was the big deal anyway? So he had lied to
me and hidden his mother's secret identity. Didn't super heroes do that all the time? Yeah, it
hurt, and I still couldn't look at Ms. Evans/Mrs. Cullen/Esme without blushing the color of
a fire-truck, but he had been trying to apologize and I wouldn't listen.
Charlie cleared his throat, effectively interrupting my self-loathing.
"Dad, I'm really not in the mood to talk right now," I said, wiping my cheeks.
"That's all right because I don't want to talk about whatever this is, either." He
awkwardly hovered there.
After a few moments of this, I asked, "Is there something I can do for you?"
"Nope. But maybe we should listen to some music." He turned the corner radio onto
my favorite station and left the room. Weird.
It was when I stood up to get a tissue that a familiar voice came over the speakers.
"Hello, what can I do for you?"
"I'd like to dedicate a song to someone."
"And what song is that?"
" ‘Email My Heart’ by Britney Spears."
"Okay, well, I don't normally get dudes requesting Britney Spears, here's Email My Hea-"
"Excuse me, sir, but would you mind if I say something?"
"Sure, go ahead, kid."
"This is EC to BS. My Arwen, I want you to know that I'm sorry for not telling you that my
mom is our teacher. You have no idea how embarrassing she- uh, it can be. I didn't want you to think of me
as a freak because your opinion is the one that matters most to me. Forgive me. I miss you and I'm not going
to give up on you no matter how many of my love notes you annihilate."
"Okay! Well, that's one hell of a dedi-"
"One more thing! You looked really pretty today wearing that blue shirt. I wanted you to know that
in case I don't get another chance to tell you."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, sir, I believe so."
"Here's Email My Heart going out to Miss Arwen from one very, very, uh, special boy."
At the sound of Edward's voice, my heart had gone wild. I could not believe he had
done that! The lyrics of the song began to play, and my love expanded even more.

I'm sorry, oh so sorry, can't you give me one more chance to make it all up to you.
E-mail my heart and say our love will never die
and that I know you're out there and I know that you still care.
Email me back and say our love will stay alive.
Forever, Email my heart.

Not for the first time, I wondered how Britney managed to capture the exact
emotion behind our relationship. As the song ended, I made a vow to write her a letter to
tell her how she saved mine and Edward's love.
Charlie walked into the room. "So are you going to e-mail his heart tonight?" he asked,
amused.

  43  
 "Maybe tomorrow," I answered cheerfully. I wanted to let him off the hook, but one
more day wouldn't hurt. Not to mention the extra time might give me the opportunity to
figure out exactly who Edward Cullen was.

January 26, 2002

Dear Diary,

Edward Cullen is my boyfriend! Well, at least, I think he is. We haven't exactly "defined" our
relationship since we made up, but seriously, why put a label on something as pure and
undeniable as my connection with Edward?

I mean, yeah, it would be nice if I could call him my boyfriend, but we don't need that title
to know what we mean to each other. Okay, sure, I would appreciate it if I had a little
more evidence that Edward and I are on the same page, but Edward has other ways of
showing me that he cares for me.

1) Edward really likes to kiss me.

We haven't really kissed, like with tongue or anything, but I think Edward likes to walk me to
my classes just so he can kiss me goodbye.

2) Edward always walks me to class and carries my books.

Somehow after every class he manages to be in the hallway waiting for me so he can walk
me to my next one. He takes my books from me and then holds my hand as we stroll
through the hallways.

3) He never seems to want our time to end.

The closer we get to my classroom, the slower we walk until we're standing outside the
doorway, and then he gives me back my things and pecks me on the lips. That happens seven
times a day and I still can't control the way my heart jumps into my throat every time he
touches me.

But even with everything I can tell from the way Edward acts around me, I want to know
more. I'm on a mission. After what happened with Edward's mom, I don't want anything to
come between us again.

Thanks for listening, Diary.

Bella Swan.

P.S. Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of Ms. Evans watching us from far away. For
some reason, she always looks like she's smiling. Weird, huh?
P.P.S. I still blush sometimes.

"Fruit Loops," he answered without hesitation.

"What? Fruit Loops don't even have marshmallows! And their freaking mascot is a
toucan! At least Lucky Charms has the leprechaun."
"Well, I'm not judging by spokesperson. I'm judging by taste and Fruit Loops easily
beats out Lucky Charms in a taste test – you don't need milk to enjoy them."
"Lucky Charms are magically delicious," I shot back. "I have to go. Charlie just
pulled up." I hung up the phone and ran over to the sink to pretend I was doing the dishes.
Charlie had severely restricted my phone privileges after running up a $75 bill from talking
with Edward three or four hours every night. I couldn't regret it, though, because those

  44  
kinds of conversation were my absolute favorite. Sometimes we wouldn't even talk; we
would sit on the phone while I read and he role-played online. Just the sound of him
breathing (or talking to the computer) was reassuring.
And I felt like we were finally getting to know each other. You could tell so much
about a person by what kind of cereal they liked. For instance, because he liked Fruit Loops,
I could tell that Edward obviously was an artist (because of the colors) and he ate healthy
(because of the fruit). It was becoming easier and easier to understand him.
Unfortunately, getting to know Edward was not the only thing on my plate. School
was ramping up, as were Alice f-word Brandon's attempts to destroy mine and Edward's
relationship. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why she didn't leave us alone. It's not
like we'd ever done anything to her, except fall in love and be happy. She seemed to take
personal offense to that, though. Could mere jealousy be the cause of such hate?
"She's up to something," I informed Angela in mid-February.
"Who?" She pulled a notebook out of her locker and stuffed it into her backpack.
"Alice," I hissed. "She's talking to Edward. Look at her! Why is she talking to him?" I
was immediately suspicious. Edward would never do anything with Alice, but she was a
deceptive little bitch (mental wrist slap) who had a knack for getting her way. He was
shaking his head at something and tried to walk away, but she grabbed his wrist and yanked
him back. She was touching Edward. I wanted to punch her.
"This is not good," Angela said. That was one thing I loved about her – she never
lied.
"You don't know the half of it! Today at lunch Tyler Crowley came up to me and
asked me out."
She gasped. "No way!"
"Well, his exact words were, ‘Hey, you! Will you go out with me?’ I was like, ‘Yeah
right,’ and then ignored him because Edward was sitting at the table with me, and I didn't
want him to think I was actually interested."
Angela's face transformed from shock to confusion. "But what does that have to do
with Alice?"
I watched Alice talk to Edward for a few seconds more before I turned back to
Angela. "Well, here's the thing – why me? It seems like every boy in school knows me, and I
don't know them. A few days ago a bunch of guys were, like, yelling at me, trying to offend
me or something. Alice is up to something. I know it. She's been out to get me since I first
started here and now she's recruited all of her groupies to do it for her."
"Maybe you're being a little paranoid," Angela said, using her cautious tone. "Maybe
those boys actually like you?"
"Ugh! I hope not. I hate popular boys; they drive me up the wall." I just didn't get it.
One boy was popular because his parents were the town's gossips; another was popular
because he was tall and was therefore deemed the athletic type – neither was cute. Edward
was amazing in every way a person could be (and he was really good-looking), but he wasn't
popular at all. Not that I wanted him to be, though. Popular boys let it go to their heads. I
glanced back to where Edward had been standing, and was happy to see he had finally
escaped the evil clutches of Alice f-word Brandon.
Angela slammed her locker shut and we started walking to Pre-Algebra. "What are
you and Edward doing tonight?"

  45  
 Ah, a happier train of thought – today was Valentine's Day! "I actually don't know.
Edward only told me to be at his house by six. I'm sure whatever he has planned is going to
be magnificent, though."
"Oh, really? And what makes you say that?" Angela asked.
"I know Edward. He loves to go over the top with things like this." My mind easily
wandered back to our first date where he had brought chocolate covered strawberries. "And
I'm pretty positive there isn't going to be any adult supervision. Dr. Cullen and Ms. Ev- uh,
his wife are going on a date in Port Angeles."
"Do you think you guys are going to–?"
"Make out?" I finished for her and sat down at my desk. "I really hope so!" A smile lit
my face at the thought. It had been almost two months since our first kiss and while our
little kisses were nice, I wanted more. Not to mention, I was hoping that after we made out
for the first time, Edward would finally ask me to officially be his girlfriend (not that we
needed titles or anything).
Alice f-word Brandon walked into Pre-Algebra and ruined my happy thoughts. She
smirked at me, actually smirked, and I knew immediately that she was aware I had seen her
talking to Edward. Bitch (mental wrist slap).
About halfway through the class, a member of student council came in with a pile of
carnations to hand out. You could pay two dollars to send a flower-gram to whoever you
wanted in the school and help raise money for student council in the process. It was
completely lame and outdated. Half of the people sent flowers to themselves so that they
wouldn't feel left out. Alice got five carnations – that was absolutely ridiculous, and she
looked a little too pleased with herself.
I could almost get behind it, though, when Angela received one from a secret
admirer. "I bet that's from Ben Cheney." She blushed a little.
"And Bella Swan," the guy with the carnations called out. I raised my hand, surprised
that someone had sent me a flower. Edward, I sighed internally. "These are for you,"
carnation guy said. It wasn't a single flower – one-by-one, he kept filling my desk. I counted
up to thirty before the teacher told him to just throw them all on my desk and get back to
class.
I stared down at the enormous pile of red carnations and looked at the tag attached
to one of the flowers.
"Annon gur nîn achen."
I had no idea what that meant. I grabbed another one. "Melon tiriad chin gîn calar ir
gladhach."
And another. "Ce i velethril cuil nîn."
Every single note was written in Elvish. Damn (mental wrist slap) the Elven
language! Whatever. We'd talk about that later. For now I was happy to look back at Alice
with her puny five carnations.
And I smirked.
After school, I paid a visit to the Thriftway. At first sight, one might think it a cheap
supermarket with limited food selection and lousy service, but I now knew its utter
brilliance: Valentine's Day cards! And not any old Valentine's Day cards, but Lord of the Rings
Valentine's Day cards.
I giggled happily as I purchased two boxes; one I would give Edward unopened so
he could keep it as a collector's item, and I would fill the other cards with little phrases that
made me think of him (in English). After Edward's little carnation stunt, I felt horrible that I

  46  
hadn't thought to get him anything. Sure, the LotR cards were a little on the juvenile side
(since we weren't in elementary school any more), but it was the sentiment that counted.
The rest of my afternoon I spent writing out the cards and getting ready. My
excitement was brimming on uncontrollable when Charlie dropped me off at Edward's
house at six o'clock on the dot and warned me that he'd be back to pick me up promptly at
ten. My fingers itched to fidget with the blue skirt I had dressed up in, but fortunately the
door flew open almost immediately after I had rung the doorbell. And after that, I had
plenty to keep me distracted from twiddling with my outfit... like Edward's outfit, for
instance.
Everything about it was weird and wrong; he was wearing baggy jeans, a loose T-
shirt, and some kind of chain around his neck. I had never seen him wear any of those
articles of clothing before. He looked like all the other boys at school – I didn't like it.
" 'Sup?" he asked, nodding in my direction. 'Sup? Did Edward really say the word 'sup?
"Um, hello." I stepped inside the doorway. "Am I overdressed?"
"No, of course not!" Edward leaned in to kiss me. "You look just as hot as you
usually do." Hot? Did Edward just call me hot?
"Is there something wrong?" I asked. This was like some weird alternate universe.
What next? Edward dressed up like a firefighter, a homeless man, or a mafia prince?
"Wrong? No, nothing is wrong. Why would anything be wrong?" Edward rattled off.
I could almost imagine him twitching under that over-sized tee.
I followed him into the kitchen, where there was a vase filled with different colored
daisies. They were beautiful. "What do the daisies stand for?"
"Hmm? Um, nothing really." He uncovered a huge pot on the oven, and stirred
whatever was inside. "They're for you, though. Happy Valentine's Day, baby." Baby?
Before I had time to dwell on this new, strange Edward, my nose was attacked by a
positively foul stench. Whatever was in that pot smelled absolutely rancid. I buried my nose
in the daisies to dilute the smell. "What is that?"
"Gumbo," Edward said, oblivious to my reaction. "It's Cajun food, fairly simple to
make. You just take spaghetti sauce, salsa, soy sauce, jalapeños, sausages, asparagus, celery,
onions, Anaheim peppers, and a sea food medley, mix them in a big pot and let it sit on the
stove for a few hours."
That sounded disgusting. If the food tasted half as bad as it smelled then there would
be absolutely no kissing/making-out tonight.
"And," Edward continued happily, "we have Cajun hot wings for our main course
and sour cream pound cake for dessert."
Yep, kissing/making-out was definitely off the table tonight.
"I'm just going to stick my daisies by the door." I practically ran from the room to
escape the repulsive smell. In the living room with fresh air, my brain started working in
overdrive. There was something wrong with Edward. Cajun food? Really? On Valentine's
Day? Maybe I was holding him to unrealistic standards, but I was hoping for something a bit
more… romantic. Like the candlelit picnic at the movies. But instead, he was going to serve
me hot wings on Valentine's Day.
"You okay in here?" Edward startled me from my thoughts.
"Yes, I was thinking about how wonderful your carnations were today," I lied. For a
brief moment Edward's smile appeared. Then it faltered, leaving him looking sad and
somewhat depressed. "And I got you a Valentine's Day present." I handed him the gift bag
with both boxes of LotR V-day cards. He stared down at them, expressionless. "One of the

  47  
boxes is unopened 'cause I thought you might want to keep it, and the other has all the cards
filled with notes from me," I explained.
He glanced up at me with that fake smile. "They're great! Thank you so much!" It
wasn't exactly the reaction I was going for, and I felt a little disheartened. "But I was actually
thinking that maybe it was time to put LotR behind me. I mean, I am thirteen after all."
"But you were thirteen yesterday and you still liked it then…"
"Really, it's not a big deal."
"I disagree. I think it's a huge deal. Maybe we should talk about this?"
Edward shrugged. "Look, it's no problem. I just thought – Do you smell that?"
Oh, praise heaven he noticed. "Yes, about the Cajun food… I was thinking–"
"It smells like fire!" Edward shouted, taking off towards the kitchen. A whiff of
smoke began clouding the living room air. I put the collar of my shirt over my nose and ran
after Edward. When I reached the kitchen, he was already wielding a fire extinguisher at the
oven door, small flames flicking out dangerously from within. "Bella, stay back!" he yelled.
"The hot wings are on fire!"
Was it wrong that my first thought had been, Oh, thank God?
He sprayed the flames, effectively dousing himself and the entire oven in whatever
that white, puffy stuff is that puts out fires. When the flames were extinguished, we both
simply stood there in the middle of the vast kitchen. What was there to say? Sorry, Edward,
but thank God that horrid food is no longer edible? Oh yeah, I'm also glad your clothes were destroyed along
with it?
Edward slowly turned around to look at me. He was actually kind of cute and looked
a little like Santa Clause, covered in the fire extinguisher powder. "That," he pointed over to
the stove, "has never happened to me before."
I couldn't have helped the giggle that escaped my lips, even if I'd tried. "I'm sorry," I
said. "But you have to admit – that's kind of funny."
Edward apparently didn't find the situation as humorous as I did. "More than four
thousand people die in America every year because of household fires. Do you find that
funny?"
Was he chastising me? Seriously? "No, I don't find that funny."
"Good." Edward turned back to the stove. "What am I going to do with this?"
"Maybe you could go take a shower and I can clean up in here?" I offered.
"Absolutely not. This is my fault and I will clean it up."
"Seriously, Edward, what is your problem?" It was the final straw. Did he have
multiple personality disorder?
"I don't have a problem! Except that I wanted this night to be perfect for you and
now…" He gave a defeated sigh.
I walked over to him and held out my hand, hoping it would provide him the same
comfort it always did for me. "Look, Edward, go take a shower and I'll find some food to
microwave so we have something to eat. I promise the mess will still be here when you get
back."
He turned and left me in the kitchen, my hand empty. Walking over to the pantry, I
found some potatoes and took out my aggression by stabbing holes in them with a knife
before sticking them in the microwave. I grabbed butter, sour cream, and cheese, and set
them on the table next to the salt and pepper. A bag of frozen corn on the cob was in the
freezer. That would round out the meal nicely.

  48  
 Corn on the cob and potatoes – what a dandy Valentine's Day treat. Sitting at the
table, waiting for Edward to come back, I made no effort to hide how extremely pissed at
him I was. At least when he came back he was wearing normal clothes again. The chain
wasn't even present.
Note: Edward should always keep his hair wet.
Silence was our main talking point while we ate our crappy meal. He held my hand in
a vice grip the entire time, like I was going to run away. This made the actual eating part of it
kind of difficult, but I wasn't going to complain. After we were finished, we forfeited the
dining room table for the stools at the kitchen island. I scooped two bowls of vanilla ice
cream, but Edward couldn't be bothered to touch the dessert.
"Aren't you going to eat it?" I asked tersely.
Edward picked up his spoon and stared down at the ice cream. "And this is what it
all comes down to," he said. "Just plain, old vanilla."
"Did someone drug your potato? What is wrong with you?"
He was silent for a few moments, contemplating, I assumed, whether he was actually
going to tell me what was going on. "It was recently brought to my attention that I am…
boring."
"Who told you that?" I demanded, though I was pretty positive I already knew the
answer.
He confirmed my suspicions. "Alice."
I had to suppress the urge to growl out loud. I'd never wanted to kill anyone before
in my entire life, but I was ready to severely damage that bitch! And no, I wasn't going to
mentally slap myself anymore for calling her that. She could mess with me as much as she
wanted, but she couldn't mess with my man (or kind-of boyfriend)!
"Edward, don't–"
He interrupted me. "Don't tell me not to listen to her. Just because you don't like her
doesn't mean it's not true."
"Seriously, Edward, I–"
"No," he said sternly. "Just look at tonight. I tried, Bella. I really tried to make this
night special and exciting for you. I thought that maybe it might be nice for me to change it
up for my girlfriend. Maybe she'd want a bit more spice in her life. So, I try to do something
amazing for her and I spent all day cooking damn Cajun Cuisine, which by the way, I hate.
And somehow I manage to screw it up, just like everything else, because there isn't a single
bone in my body that likes change. Vanilla, Bella, that's what I am – just shitty, plain, and
boring vanilla," he finished, finally scooping up a spoonful of ice cream and shoving it in his
mouth.
I had never heard Edward speak so much in the five months that I'd known him and
after all that, I could only think of one thing to say. "Did you just call me your girlfriend?"
Edward choked on his ice cream and glanced over at me with worried, wide eyes.
"Are you breaking up with me?"
What? "What?"
"Look, I'm so sorry. I promise to do better – I know I haven't been the best
boyfriend, especially today. I promise that–"
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. This was all a little overwhelming. "But
Edward, you aren't my boyfriend; you never asked me out."
"Of course I did. I asked you out on our first date."

  49  
 "Yeah, you asked me to a movie. You never asked me to be your girlfriend," I
clarified.
"I kissed you! I kiss you all the time!"
"But that could mean any number of things!"
"What do you mean that could mean any number of things? Why do you think I
walk with you to all your classes? Why do you think I want to spend every moment of every
day with you? Do you think I go around kissing random girls?"
"No, but I–"
"You never once considered me your boyfriend? Who do you think I am?" he asked,
discouraged.
Edward looked upset, and, somehow, he looked lost. I thought about the question
I'd been pondering for the last few months – who was Edward Cullen?
He was someone who loved Lord of the Rings fervently and was persuasive enough to
convince his father to dress up like Legolas. He was someone who was artistic enough to
make T-shirts and was passionate enough to sell them. He was someone who cared deeply
for me and was brave enough to go ask my father's permission to date me. Sure, some of
those things might be considered dull by society's standards, but none of that mattered
because it didn't define who he was. But I knew what did.
I jumped down from my stool and ran over to the refrigerator, grabbing the bottle of
Hershey's chocolate syrup. I skipped back over to where Edward was sitting and promptly
started pouring the chocolate syrup over his vanilla ice cream. "Five-four-three-two-one," I
counted under my breath before putting the bottle aside and picking up his spoon.
"Edward Cullen, you aren't vanilla." I began to stir the chocolate syrup into the ice
cream. "You don't even come close." I looked him dead in the eye. "You may be a little
vanilla, but you also have chocolate in you, too. You're Swirl. Don't ever change that."
Amusement flickered in his eyes, and for the first time tonight, I felt like my Edward
was finally with me. "Swirl?" he asked, a small laugh in his voice.
"Yes, because deep down in your core, you are someone who puts chocolate in your
milk."
"Swirl," Edward repeated. "I think I could live with that."
"Great! Because really, between the two of us, I don't think we can deal with another
identity crisis," I said, remembering my own from a few months ago.
"Oh… I don't think we have to worry about that."
"What do you mean?"
"I got you something else for Valentine's Day – something that will remind you of
who you are should you ever lose your identity," Edward said, reaching into his pant pocket
and handing me a small stack of cards.

Bella Swan
Head of Research and Web Design
MyT-Spot.com
Home Phone: 360.555.6293
BellaSwan@MyT-spot.com

"And my best girlfriend… ever," he added, before leaning in and really kissing me.

  50  
 Chapter 9: A Farewell to Eighth Grade 2001 - 2002

June 6, 2002
Dear Diary,

I can't believe tomorrow is the last day of school. Eighth grade has been the most amazing
year of my life. Why? Because of Edward Cullen.

Four months later, and I still can't believe that I get to be one of those girls that are dating
the most perfect guy. Edward is my perfect guy. Today at school, while I was watching him
eat his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I decided to make up some rules for him.

1. Never stop touching me for your touch is more important to me than breath.
2. Never stop kissing me for your lips are ecstasy.
3. Never stop hugging me for your embrace is the only thing holding me together.
4. Never leave me for without you my heart would cease to exist.

I love Edward. At this point, without him, I would not be Bella. His very presence makes me
never want to move for fear of him fading away like a dream. When his hand touches my
skin… if I died, it would be the most perfect death. Time stops.

I've been trying to get him to say, "I love you." I think he wants to. I should probably wait
patiently, but I'm so excited.

I have to go to bed. Next time I write in you I will officially be a freshman in high school!

Bella

COMP520073: I had a dream about you last night.

A slight blush rose on Edward's cheeks.

COMP520072: Oh yeah? What was it about?

COMP520073: Are you sure you really want to know? It's kind of funny.
COMP520072: Of course. I want to know everything about you (especially any
dreams you have about me).
COMP520073: Ok. Well, you were an animagus from Harry Potter, which means you
could change back and forth between an animal and your human form.

"Wait, WHAT?" Edward abandoned his keyboard, staring open-mouthed at the

computer screen as I typed my next sentence.

COMP520073: You were this adorable tan, wiener dog that was so cute and perky,
and you were small enough that I could carry you wherever we went.

"Jesus, Bella. Are you serious?"

COMP520072: Lol, it was completely hilarious, and I think my favorite dream

about you to date.

  51  
 "So that's what you dream about, Bella? Me becoming a wiener dog? How flattering."
Edward pouted.
I bit my lip to keep from giggling. He was so darn cute when he was pretending to
be upset about something. And, also, his pout kind of reminded me of what he looked like
as a puppy. "As a matter of fact, I mostly dream about being with you forever." Maybe a
little part of me was trying to get him to say those three magic words.
The smile reemerged on his lips. "There's something I want to tell you."
"Yes?" This was it.
"I…"
"Okay, everybody, first and foremost, I want you all to give yourselves a round of
applause for putting out a magnificent yearbook!" Darn Ms. Evans!
I agitatedly clapped along with the other students as I turned my attention back to
the teacher. Over the past few months I had perfected the art of differentiating between my
teacher, Ms. Evans, and Edward's mom, Mrs. Cullen. It was a survival technique – right now
I really needed to be annoyed with my teacher, and annoyed was something I would never
allow myself be with Edward's mom. It was a fine line to walk, and fortunately, it would be
over in a few hours.
"I've enjoyed having each and every one of you in this class. You all worked hard,
and I'm very happy with the final product. I hope it's filled with happy memories for every
single one of you. With that said, please feel free to take the rest of the class to get your
yearbooks signed by your classmates. Thanks again for a wonderful year!"
One of the things I hated most about yearbooks was the giant popularity contest to
see who could get the most signatures. Having had the yearbooks passed out the week
before, I had already filled my quota for impersonal goodbyes from the eighth grade.

Bella,
I had soooo much fun being your friend!
I hope we stay friends 4-ever!
HAGS!
xoxoxoxoxo, Jessica S.
P.S. Call me 555-4183 =)

Hey Jessica,
It was nice having class with you.
Have a great summer.
Bella

Bella:
Hope you have an awesome summer.
Hey, maybe you, me, and Angela could
hang out at the mall some time?
Ben Cheney
555-0396

Hey Ben,
I hope you have a great summer,
but I'm sure I'l l be seeing you at some point. ;)
Bella

  52  
Yo Bella!
Waz up chicka?
You are a real kool person 2 hangout wit!
Thanx for being a really grate friend and
have a grate summa!
HAGS x1000!
Eric
555-4921

Hey Eric,
Have a great summer.
Bella

Hey Babe,

I have a song in my head that gose,

"I falling even more in luv w/ u,
equals the more that we've gone thru."
U know that song? It's by lifehouse.
I'm so =) we became friends!
This year has been fun w/ u &
me in gym and all. Well, watching the
peeps in gym play b-ball & volleyball is
soooo boring! I hate it how the boys
are all like, "girls, hay girls,
come here girls!"
We're not dogs!

Oh! Mike just called me over, i g2g.

I hope u have a kick A** summer!
Call me 555-9378. We can hang out –
just us girls!

Luv ya lotz,
Lauren

Hey Lauren,
It was nice knowing you in gym.
Have a nice summer.
Bella

  53  
Whenever you miss me, just think of this-
Remember the trees, remember the grass,
remember me, the pain in the A$$!
See ya next year!
Emmett McCarty
Hey Emmett,
It was nice meeting you.
Have a good summer.
Bella

Bella,
I don't really know you but you
seem like a great girl!

HAGS and good luck in Forks High!

Katie Marshall
Hey Katie,
Have a great summer.
Bella

Bella,
You've been a terrific student!
More importantly, you are a wonderful young lady.
May all your dreams come true!
XO, Ms. Evans
P.S. See you at dinner tonight. ;)

Hi. Bye. -Conner

Have a nice summer.
Bella

Is-A-Bel-Ah!

Don't forget to oot your ooples &

banoonoos and never eat yellow snow.
Monkeys are yummy.
Have an awesome possum summer.

Tyler

P.S. If you ever ditch Cullen,

give me a holla 555-3275
Tyler,
That will never happen.
Have a nice summer.
Bella

  54  
Dear Bella,
Thanks for being my friend this year!
I can't believe we're almost in high school!
See you this weekend for Miss Congeniality and popcorn!
Angela

Angela,
Ben thinks we should all hang out. What do you think? ;)
Bella

Rosalie Hale

Hey Rosalie,
Have a nice vacation.
Bella

Hey Girly!
Bella, you are such a sweetie - never change!
You have been such a great friend and inspiration!
I hope you have a great summer and a great
time at Forks High!
Hugs!
Alice

Alice,
I saw your baby dedication in the yearbook.
You were such a cute kid!
What happened?

-Anonymous

P.S. Do you know what they say about karma?

I think you have something in common with it
(and it rhymes with witch).

Mike,
Have a nice summer.
Bella

  55  
Dear Bella,
Thankz 4 letting me sign your processed tree!
U R 1 of my best friends & I don't want to loose
u over the summer!

Keep in touch 555-1635 or email me:

mommysAngel52@yahoo.com.

HAGS and LUVS!

Samantha

"Who's Samantha?" Edward asked.

"I have no idea."
"Then why did you have her sign your yearbook?"
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do with a yearbook?" His mother was the
yearbook teacher – shouldn't this be kind of obvious? But then again, he was a boy.
"No. Yearbooks are supposed to be about memories," he said. "You have no
memories with her, so why would you have her sign it?"
"Well, I guess now I have the memory of her signing my yearbook. That counts
doesn't it?"
"Hardly."
"Whatever. It doesn't matter anyways. It's all just stupid." I pushed my yearbook
(unsigned by only him) to his side of the desk. "Are you ready to get this over with?"
"This is serious, Bella. This is what we will have to look back and remember eighth
grade. Not to mention we put a lot of hard work into making it." Apparently Edward didn't
mess around when it came to yearbooks. It was oddly endearing. "Did you save me an entire
page like I asked?"
"Yes, I did, but how you could possibly fill out an entire page is beyond me. Just say,
'Have a great summer', and sign your name."
"Don't be so ridiculous. That doesn't even make sense, as I'll be seeing you all
summer. Here's my yearbook. You can sign it anywhere you'd like."
I grabbed the yearbook from him and flipped it open. There was nothing written in
the front cover. I flipped it to the back and found that it, too, was blank. "Why has no one
else signed your yearbook?"
"Why would I want anyone besides you to sign my yearbook? You are the most
significant memory I have." It was moments like this I wondered if Edward was actually real.
I mean, what kind of thirteen year old says stuff like that? You are the most significant memory I
have. It was like poetry… except it didn't rhyme and was only one sentence. "Are you
crying?"
"No."
"Why are you crying?" Edward asked gently, patting me on the back as if that would
somehow cure me. Charlie did the same thing sometimes when he didn't know how to
handle my emotions. Why did boys think petting a girl like she was a puppy would make the
tears go away?

  56  
 "It's nothing. I just got something in my eye." He didn't look convinced, still patting
me on the back with a bewildered expression. "And that was… really sweet."
He smiled. "Gell nîn-"
I cut him off. "I thought we'd talked about the Elvish thing." Seriously, it was
romantic for about the first three weeks, but it got old after nine months. I had no way to
know what he was saying, and he normally refused to translate for me.
"Uh, sorry… habit. I meant that it was my pleasure, and it's also the truth."
He was so adorable. "Let's do this thing," I said. I didn't understand what Edward's
deal was with yearbooks, but whatever. He always did what he could to make me happy so I
could try to do this one thing for him.

June 7, 2002

My Arwen,

Simply put, this has been the best year of my life. Why? Because of you, Bella, and what you have come

to mean to me.

The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were something special. You carried a purple North

Face backpack with two large zipped compartments, a front pouch, and a side mesh pocket where you

stored your water bottle. You were wearing a grey T-shirt (medium, 70% cotton, 30% polyester,

double-needle stitched sleeves and bottom hem) and Levi jeans.

Besides those small details, though, I can't recall much of our initial interaction. Your voice was a

song to me and your eyes like pools of melted chocolate speckled with honey, a combination that rendered

my mind incoherent and my mouth immobile. I know one day we'll be telling people about the first time

we met and how hopelessly awkward we were, but I truly think that discomfited meeting was perfection

for us (even if you did ask if I was gay).

That was just the first of many experiences over the past nine months where your radiance has stunned me

into stupidity. Bella, I hope that I tell you enough how absolutely breathtaking you are. Every time

you walk into the room, I have to take a moment to collect myself lest I scare you with my staring and

complete awe.

Even after months of being official boyfriend and girlfriend, the simplest touch of your hand still sends

a shock of electricity through my body, and your kiss spreads warmth inside me like a fire.

  57  
Everything about being your boyfriend is amazing – the walks, the picnics, the phone calls. I wish we

could take this moment in time, freeze it and stay this way forever. I hate change, because as Bilbo

tells Frodo in LotR:

"It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road,

and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

I suppose Frodo wouldn't have had any adventure in his life at all had he taken Bilbo's advice.

With you by my side, I know that I can tackle any challenge, whether it be to walk into the fires of

Mount Doom or walk through the front doors of Forks High.

Before you came into my life, I was alone. But now, Bella, you are my girlfriend, my business partner,

and my best friend. You are all I will ever need and more than I could ever wish for, and I promise to

make this the best summer of our lives.

Amin mela lle,

Your Swirl

Edward,

You gave me your business card. You danced with me at the end of the night. You offered me
a job and made me like LotR. You called me your best friend.

You held my hand on our first date.

You kissed me in your bedroom.

You asked me to be your girlfriend.

You are the most significant memory I have and the only one I will ever want.

Bella

P.S. I knew you weren't going to be able to resist writing Elvish in my yearbook. You owe
me $5!

  58  
 Chapter 10: The First Time She Said the D-Word

"What's a Donkey Kong?"

"Hmm?" Edward asked distractedly.
"What is a Donkey Kong?" I repeated, annunciating each syllable slowly.
Edward looked up from the book he had been reading by the window. "Donkey Kong
is a video game. Why do you ask?"
I had been hunched over the computer in his bedroom for about an hour, sorting
through a batch of T-shirt designs submitted to MyT-Spot.com by various artists. "This guy
sent in a design with a really disturbing image of a monkey on it. He says it's exactly what
'My T-spot' needs."
Edward jumped up from the window seat. "You see?" I said, pointing to the screen.
"The tag line says 'It's hung like Donkey Kong.' What does that mean?"
"Ignore it. Delete it. Ban him from submitting anything again," he rattled off,
without answering my actual question.
"But what does it mean?"
"It doesn't mean anything. It's stupid and it's not what we sell." Edward clearly didn't
want me to know what was going on.
"But-"
"I'm hungry."
"Well then, go get something to eat," I snapped, irritated by his cop out.
"But I don't want to leave you." He twirled a strand of my hair around his finger,
clearly trying to distract me. "Come with me?"
I huffed. "I'm trying to work, Edward. You should be working, too."
"But I can't work on an empty stomach." He leaned in to nuzzle my cheek with a
sweet kiss. Darn, he was good.
"Fine, look in my bag. I think I have a bag of chips or something in there."
"Thank you!" Cheerfully content that he had distracted me from my line of
questioning, Edward walked to where I had dropped my bag by the door and started digging
for the treasured snack item. "Hey, can I have this piece of candy?"
"Sure, you can have whatever you want," I said, leaning further towards the
computer screen. What exactly was that on the monkey? It took a second for it to sink in
that Edward had asked me if he could eat a piece of candy from my bag, another second for
me to realize that I didn't have a piece candy in my bag, and a third second to realize exactly
what I did have in my bag that he might mistake as a piece of candy.
"DAMN IT!" I cursed loudly, whipping around in the chair. "Edward, don't open
that! It's…" But it was too late. Edward had already unwrapped it and was now staring at
what he held in his hand in absolute horror. "…a tampon." I buried my face in my hands,
drowning in mortification. Was this actually happening? It was a dream, surely.
Neither Edward or I spoke for at least a minute. I was floundering in humiliation,
and he was still… feeling whatever a guy would feel when he unwraps his girlfriend's
tampon thinking it's a piece of candy. Slowly, as if it were a nuclear bomb, he lowered it back
into my bag and carefully placed the entire bag on the floor next to him. I didn't know what
to say. How could I say anything? This was positively the most humiliating moment of my
entire life.

  59  
 Apparently, though, Edward wasn't quite as shy on the subject because he said, "It's
all right, Bella. The, uh, menstrual cy-cycle is a natural part of any fertile female's body. It,
uh, it deposits the ovum or, uh, the egg-"
There was a time in my life where nothing was worse than Charlie talking about sex.
That time ended the second Edward started talking about my period. "Please stop," I begged.
Edward shut his mouth, but walked towards me with his hands in the air like I was
going attack him if he approached too quickly. He reached out his hand to touch my arm,
but changed course midway and started patting my back in that weird way he always did
when trying to comfort me. "You know, I'm sure my mother would be willing to talk to you
about-"
I stood immediately, and walked over to the door, grabbing my bag on the way. I
looked at the wall above Edward's head and fidgeted with my bag as I said, "Um, I'm going
to take a few days off of work and, uh, when I return, we'll just... never speak of this again."
Without waiting for Edward to respond, I fled his bedroom. First thing tomorrow I would
hit up the Thriftway, buy a damn tampon case, and write "DO NOT OPEN" on it with a
permanent marker.

  60  
 Chapter 11: The First Time They Walked Into Forks High

"Why is there a leaf in my pasta?" I asked.

"Relax. It's a bay leaf."
"What's a bay leaf? It sounds Elvish."
Edward laughed. "This is why I adore you. A bay leaf gives the pasta more flavor."
"Right." I carefully maneuvered the leaf out with my spoon and flicked it over the
porch railing. "Forgive me if I don't quite trust your judgment in regard to cooking after the
Cajun food incident."
"One of these days that excuse is going to get old. I'm actually a very good cook."
"The oven you murdered disagrees," I said. It was the last day of summer vacation,
and we were sitting on Edward's back porch, savoring what was left of our freedom. Our
summer adventures, like the party Edward had hosted for the release of The Lord of the Rings:
The Fellowship of the Ring DVD, had been blissful. I use the term "party" loosely because it was
mostly me and Edward kissing in his home theater while the movie played in the
background. But there were streamers involved. Our whole vacation had been like that with
the kissing. Absolutely freaking blissful.
Tomorrow would be our first day of high school. I wasn't worried at all. Sure, there
were a lot more students, but that only meant more people we could be friends with. I
certainly wasn't thinking about the fact that half of those people were girls… probably
gorgeous, beautiful, tall, skinny, older girls that would be all over Edward the second we
walked through the doors.
"You should," Edward said.
"I should what?" I asked. I'd bet none of those girls would even bother to get to
know the real Edward before they pounced on him – the gorgeous, sweet, humble,
charming, amazing, perfect Edward that I knew. And I did know him, just like he knew me.
So why would he want one of them over me? Besides the fact that they are older and more
experienced and gorgeous-
"Trust me."
I snapped back to attention. "Trust you with who?"
"Cooking," Edward said. "What did you think we were talking about?"
"Um, nothing. Just thinking about tomorrow."
The smile slipped from his mouth. "Are you worried?"
I faked a laugh. "Worried? What's there to be worried about?" It wasn't technically a lie
if I didn't answer his question.
Edward's eyes fell to his plate and he started to pick at his food. "You know, new
teachers, new subjects, new students…"
"Well, that just means there's more people for us to be friends with." Repeating the
lie I had been telling myself didn't sound nearly as convincing when I said it him. Edward
nodded and gave me a tight smile in response. What was he so nervous about? He needn't
worry that I might decide to run off with some upperclassman. Edward was it for me, and if
he decided he didn't want me then I would become a nun and die a virgin.
We sat on his back porch for about an hour longer before it was time to leave. We
didn't talk about anything in particular – just enjoyed being in each other's presence. That
was one thing I had loved about this summer. Being with Edward was like eating a cup of

  61  
chocolate pudding (the one with the peel-off lid); you don't have to talk while you're eating
it, but when you're finished you always want more.
Were you even allowed to like pudding cups in high school?

When I arrived at Forks High the next morning, Edward was waiting at the front
entrance. That in and of itself was incredibly sweet, but the gesture was made considerably
more profound by the fact that it was raining.
Note: Edward being wet is never a bad thing.
The prospect of Edward's company didn't make the police cruiser any less
embarrassing. So I grabbed my lucky purple backpack from next to my feet and pulled the
hood of my jacket over my hair, both to keep it dry and hide my face. I had just reached for
the handle of the car door when Charlie put his arm out to stop me. "Is there something you
wanted?" I asked.
Charlie cleared his throat. "I want you to know that… if you don't like the cafeteria
food here we can always go grocery shopping and pack you lunches from home."
We had endured the entire car ride in silence; why was he speaking now, when I was
likely to be spotted? "Look, we'll talk more about the lunches when I get home."
"Wait, Bella," Charlie said, stopping me from getting out of the car a second time.
"Dad, I have to go – Edward's getting wet." Again, that wasn't a bad thing, just a
good excuse for me to get out of the cruiser before most of the student population arrived.
"Give your old man a moment, all right?"
I groaned a little, but complied. "What's up?"
"I know you don't want to listen to your father getting all… nostalgic over his little
girl's first day of high school, but I wanted you to know that I'm really proud of you." His
ears turned a little pink. That was exactly the kind of thing I loved my father to say but had
to pretend I hated in order to keep up the façade that I was a normal, well-adjusted, yet
slightly angsty teenage girl. "Good luck, Bells. Tell Edward to keep you out of trouble."
"Thanks, Dad. And know that I certainly won't tell Edward that," I said, getting out
of the car. Would I ever understand my father's relationship with Edward? They'd only met
on a few occasions, and yet some days it felt like Charlie knew Edward just as much as I did.
I ran to where Edward was standing, grabbed his hand, and pulled him into the
building to give him a proper greeting. We had both gotten there early enough that there
weren't many students milling around, so once we were inside and in a semi-private corner, I
threw my arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss.
And for some reason, he started laughing. "What is your problem?"
"A little impatient for me today, aren't you?" he said, still chuckling.
"I'm impatient? So I suppose you were waiting out in the rain for Lauren Mallory to
show up?"
He waggled his eyebrows evocatively, then pulled off his wet raincoat. I growled, but
followed his example. Glancing around the entrance of Forks High, my stomach lurched at
how big it was. It hadn't looked this large from the outside. "So, I guess this is our home
away from home for the next four years," I said, with a tinge of panic.
"And how appropriate that the first thing you did as a freshman is attack another
student," Edward said. My eyes rolled, but I loved it when Edward teased me. It was a side
of him that not many people got to see – it was the side of him that I owned.

  62  
 A few students filtered in behind us, and I caught a girl eyeing Edward's backside. I
narrowed my eyes and fought back a possessive sneer. Edward's hand tightened around
mine and I looked over to find that he was wearing an expression similar to my own – only
it was directed at some dude with a baseball cap. Even after standing out in the rain,
Edward's hand was warm and soft. I probably would never wash my hand again if I didn't
know I would be able to hold his whenever I wanted to.
"Well, we made it through the gates of Mordor," I said, sporting an assuring smile.
"Now all we have to do is destroy the ring."
He nodded towards the boy in the baseball cap. "It'd probably help if we didn't have
Gollum hanging around waiting to steal the ring and bite off my finger."
"Gollum bites off Frodo's finger?"
"How have you not gotten to that part yet? I lent you the books months ago." Oops.
In a moment of absolute brilliance, I'd told Edward I didn't want to discuss my progress in
the book series so he didn't accidentally ruin the ending for me. In actuality, I hadn't gotten
past the first sixty pages.
"When would I find time to read them? We're always hanging out." And they were
really boring.
Edward let out a sarcastic laugh. "Well, I don't know, Bella. Somehow I've managed
to read the series twice in the time I loaned you the books."
"But you've already read the books a million times! Why would you need to read
them again?"
"Tolkien's writing is so full of depth, that there's always more to learn," Edward said.
"In every page, you can find some little detail or hidden clue that you missed on a previous
reading." That was one of the problems. It was so tedious and dry.
Instead of arguing this further, I tugged on Edward's hand. "Come on. We better get
our schedules before the line gets too long."

"Musical Theater?" I screeched, staring down at my first semester schedule. How had
those morons managed to screw it up? And why was Edward practically crippled with mirth?
"Stop laughing! This isn't funny. It's utterly tragic."
"I can't help it," Edward said, without expending the effort to even try. "I have this
hilarious image of you dressed up in a cowgirl costume, whipping out a pistol and dancing
along to a stage production of Annie Get Your Gun."
"Annie Get Your Gun?"
"You know, Annie Oakley? Buffalo Bill? Anything you can do, I can do better? Why
do you look like you want to shoot me with her pistol? It's a compliment! Annie Oakley was
amazing. She was the best sharpshooter in the Wild West and could kick any man's butt in a
duel." He had a gleam in his eye that I knew all too well.
First elves and now this? Figures that Edward would be interested in cowgirls.
Sometimes, I wondered if he wasn't actually an old man trapped in the body of a teenage
boy. It would explain a lot of things – the stash of Audrey Hepburn movies he hid under his
bed, for one.
"Whatever. You can forget that image right now. I'm transferring out." I turned to
walk back into the office, but, to my dismay, the line had grown exponentially while Edward
revealed his cowgirl fixation. I would never get this fixed in time for classes! The anxiety I
had felt upon first entering the school rose like bile in my throat.

  63  
 "Okay, Bella, I think you're hyperventilating a little bit. You need to breathe."
Was it possible to asphyxiate on panic? "Tell me something I don't know."
"When JRR Tolkien was a child, he was bitten by a large baboon tarantula in South
Africa."
"Huh?"
"You told me to tell you something you didn't know." He was struggling not to smile
at his own joke, while I fought an outright laugh. This was why I loved him. Even when I
tried to feel like crap, Edward always found a way to make me smile. "We'll fix your schedule
later. For now, we don't want to be late for our first classes of high school."
It seemed only moments later, I was clutching Edward's hand outside my first period
class. It was English, which was my favorite subject, but what if I had no one to sit next to?
What if we got paired up for projects and no one wanted to be my partner? I suddenly
regretted not making more friends in eighth grade. Edward leaned in to kiss my forehead,
promising me he'd be back to walk me to my next class and that everything was going to be
fine. Even if we didn't have any classes together, we still had lunch and we'd get my schedule
fixed then... or so he assured. A small fissure tore in my heart as our hands unlatched.
I took a deep breath before stepping forward and turning the doorknob. Only about
half the class was full, which meant there were plenty of spaces to sit that weren't next to
other students. It was always easier to have someone come sit next to you, rather than
possibly offend someone by sitting next to them. I chose a seat near the middle of the class,
pulled out Edward's copy of The Fellowship of the Ring, and pretended to read it so I wouldn't
look like a slacker.
The class filled with people I barely recognized, and by the time the teacher came in,
the only seat that wasn't taken was in front of me. The teacher was introducing himself when
the door opened up and the last person I ever wanted to see plopped herself in that very
seat. "Now that the entire class is here," the teacher said, glaring in our direction, "I will tell
you that the seats that you have chosen today will be your permanent seats for the rest of the
semester."
Alice f-word Brandon's face practically lit up as she turned around. "Oh my God, B,
we are going to have so much fun this semester!"
So far, I loathed high school.

Alice turned out to be in four out of seven of my classes. Clearly I had done
something to offend God. Alice in four classes, and Edward in zero? His wrath was surely
upon me. Worse, my plan to switch out of stupid Musical Theater into seventh period
Yearbook was on hold because the earliest I could get an appointment was three days from
now.
And it was torture. This whole day had been torture. I hated high school.
Every teacher had made us stand up, introduce ourselves to the class, and give some
random fact about ourselves, as if that would magically help them remember our names. In
classes where freshmen were mixed with upperclassmen, we got the spiel about how older
students needed to set a good example for us. All the while, we endured glares from them,
like it was our fault the teachers had decided we were too incompetent to behave
appropriately. And gym… well, there were no words I could use without having to mentally
slap my wrist to describe how much I hated gym. My saving grace was that Angela was in
three of my classes, gym included.

  64  
 This day needed to end, and I was either going to thank God that the only class I
had left was Musical Theater or curse him for the day not being over yet. "Attention, class,"
the teacher called from the head of the choir room. "My name is Mrs. McCrae and I'm going
to be your teacher for this semester. We're going to start off today with introductions. When
I call on you, I'd like you to stand up and tell the class your name, followed by your favorite
musical."
Typical. This was going to be especially excruciating because I couldn't use the
generic, "I go by Bella and I like to read," introduction I'd used in my other classes. Plus, I'd
have to wait and pray that no one else said my favorite musical (Grease) before I did. I wasn't
about to be a copycat.
"Let's begin with Alice Brandon," Mrs. McCrae read from the top of her roll list.
Alice popped up from the middle of the popular girls' group, and fluttered her stupid
eyelashes obnoxiously. "Hello everyone! My name is Alice Brandon and my favorite musical
is Grease because John Travolta is such a babe."
Damn Alice f-word Brandon!
Renee's obsession with Grease had led to the exile of other musicals in our home
(aside from Grease 2, which would have been even more pathetic to say out loud to the class).
I couldn't give Alice the satisfaction of thinking I was copying her, but it was the only
musical I knew off the top of my head.
"Very good, Alice," Mrs. McCrae said. "Okay, next we have Jackie Cooper."
Jackie stood from the chair next to Alice. "Hi, I'm Jackie and my favorite musical is
also Grease." Alice beamed even brighter and began applauding Jackie for saying her favorite
musical was the same as hers. Of course the rest of the class (aside from me) started clapping
along with her. Did Jackie have no dignity? Who wanted to be applauded for being a sheep?
It was appalling, but that's how it continued. Whenever Mrs. McCrae would call a
girl's name (the only boy in the class was Eric Yorkie), the girl would stand up and say her
favorite musical was Grease and Alice and her cronies would give that girl a round of
applause. Even more disgusting was when an "unpopular" girl would stand up and say that
Grease was her favorite musical, just to get Alice's approval. At one point, a girl stood up and
said, "I've actually never seen a musical before, so I choose Grease!" She got twice as much
applause for that. It was so wrong. And, I swore, sun was shining out of Alice's ass (mental
wrist slap) every time a new girl said the word Grease.
Meanwhile, I was sitting in the back of the room willing my brain to spit out the
name of a musical, any musical. For the life of me, I couldn't remember the name of the one
with the red, sparkly, high-heeled shoes. After this, I was going to make Edward watch every
classic musical he had hidden under his bed with me.
Wait, Edward! He was–
"Isabella Swan." Mrs. McCrae sounded bored, as if she'd witnessed this exact
spectacle too many times.
I stood up, a little shakily – I really hated public speaking. "Um, I go by Bella."
She made a note to change my name. "And what's your favorite musical?"
"Annie Get Your Gun."
"Yeah right, Bella," Alice said. "I've never even heard of that musical."
Rage boiled inside me. Oh, how I hated, Alice f-word Brandon. In the heat of the
moment, I figured it wouldn't matter if I made a bad impression on the teacher since I'd only
be in her class two more days. "Really? That's too bad, because Annie Oakley could totally
kick your a–"

  65  
 "Actually, Annie Get Your Gun is a musical that was adapted into a movie in the
1950's," Mrs. McCrae said, now sporting a smile. "I'm surprised you bring it up, Bella,
because Betty Hutton, who played the lead role, was actually a distant cousin of mine. Very
good!"
I sent a smug look in Alice's direction and secretly bowed to my own internal
applause.

As usual, Edward was waiting outside when I exited. "I've missed you all day," he
said.
I smiled. "Then let's be glad it's over."
"So how'd it go? Was it worth the near hyperventilation?"
I was about to regale him with all the morbid details, but was cut off by an
exaggerated gasp from behind. I whipped my head in that direction to find Alice frozen in
the middle of the hallway with her mouth hanging open, staring at some guy with blond hair
and blue eyes. He was with a group of friends, laughing over a joke. I guess he was cute, but
certainly nothing compared to how beautiful Edward was. Of course, by the way Alice was
staring at him, you would think he was Orlando Bloom. Managing to close her mouth, she
straightened her posture and walked confidently over to the guy, her mere presence
garnering his attention.
"You've kept me waiting a long time," she said, as if she didn't have a doubt in the
world that he had also been waiting for her.
He seemed to stare deeply into her eyes, and I almost gagged. They stood there for a
few moments until finally his face comically fell in confusion. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but, um,
waiting for what?" The boys standing behind him barely tried to hide their jokes and nudges.
It was like a miracle, this beautiful scene unfolding before me.
Alice visibly huffed and her body seemed to deflate a little before she smirked and
reestablished herself. "You. You've kept me waiting for you," she clarified, holding her hand
out to him.
As if in slow motion, the boy looked her up and down, quirked an eyebrow over his
charmingly amused eyes, and said in his sweet, southern accent, "Sorry, Frosh. You're cute,
but I don't do freshmen."
It was moments like this that made me believe God actually loved me. He gave me
this moment so that I could turn back to Edward and honestly say, "I think I'm really going
to love high school."

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 Chapter 12: The First Time They Had “The Talk”

Dear Diary,

Jasper Whitlock is my hero.

I want to start a fundraiser so I can collect enough money to build a statue in his likeness.
I will have it placed in front of the school with the line, "Sorry Frosh - I don't do freshmen,"
inscribed across the bottom.

And I will take pictures of it and tape them to Alice's locker.

*laughs maniacally*

Okay… maybe not. But seriously, I love that guy. My life is so much better with him in it and
I've never even met him, lol.

The last two days of high school have actually been really fun (with the exception of Musical
Theater, but I have an appointment to take care of that tomorrow).

For instance, I never thought I'd say this, but Alice is actually tolerable in English. She spends
the entire class writing notes to Jasper and then coloring them with hearts and flowers. Of
course, because I sit behind her, I get to read them.

Dear Jasper,
I want you now more than ever. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Only pure joy can explain how I feel about you. Love is a strong word. An epic, elite,
mind-boggling, over-powering, scary, intense word. So please understand I take caution
uttering the next sentence. I love you, Jasper Whitlock.
Blah Blah Blah
XOXOXO,
Alice

Maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit, but seriously? The girl obviously can't take a hint because
Jasper is definitely not into her. What stupid teenager actually believes they are in love with
someone after only knowing them for twenty-four hours?

I mean, Edward and I have known each other for almost a year and still haven't said that to
each other. And no – it doesn't bother me that Edward hasn't said "I love you" yet. I bet he's
just waiting for the right time and everything. He definitely loves me. At least, I think he
definitely loves me.

g2g,
Bella
P.S. When I see you again, I will officially be in Yearbook class!

The stupid, fat woman with frizzy red hair behind the receptionist desk was the most
obstinate, abhorrent subhuman I'd had the displeasure of meeting. "But you don't
understand. I can't sing at all. I don't know how to dance, and just the thought of getting up
on stage in front of people makes me want to throw up." I made a gagging sound to
emphasize my point; she didn't buy it.

  67  
 "Really, dear, being dramatic is not going to get you anywhere." Her name-plaque
read Ms. Cope. If this meeting was any indication, it should have been Ms. Nope.
"I didn't sign up for Musical Theater, I swear." The real joke of it was the bowl of
candy on her desk; clearly a prop to appear friendly to unassuming freshmen.
"While I understand that you didn't sign up for Musical Theater, upperclassmen get
first choice in their electives and Yearbook is already full."
"But, my boyfriend, who is also a freshman, is in Yearbook." I could be obstinate
and abhorrent too. Ask Charlie.
She folded her hands snobbishly on her desk. "After all of the upperclassmen get
their first picks, we go through the underclassmen alphabetically."
I was going to get out of Musical Theater or I was going to die. That was an
exaggeration. I probably wouldn't die, but I might punch Ms. Nope in her pretentious, pig-
like face. "Look, I'm not trying to be rude or cause problems, but there must be something
you can do."
She sighed heavily and typed something into her computer. "We have a few open
spaces available in Woodshop during that period."
Woodshop? With my luck and lack of coordination, I would lose a finger within the
first week. "No, definitely not. There has to be something else." My hands clapped together
tightly, as if the mere idea of being in Woodshop left a gaping hole where my right-hand
pinky should be.
"I'm sorry, Miss Swan, but that is your only option."
My jaw clenched. Ms. Nope and I were at war. A glaring war, that was. Maybe it was
rude, but this was about survival and I wasn't messing around. Suddenly her eyes lightened
and a small smile graced her lips. "There is one other option," she said happily.
"Thank you so much. I will take anything," I said, relieved and somewhat
triumphant. "What is it?"
Her attention focused on the computer screen, and she typed away. "I'm replacing
Musical Theater with another period of gym. It's a little unorthodox but it still counts as an
elective."
I shot up from my seat. "Wait!"

"So, how does it feel to not be in Musical Theater?" Edward asked, once I'd walked
out of the office.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Edward could totally be blamed for this. Cullen came
before Swan, so he technically did, kind of, take my spot in Yearbook. After about a second,
I decided I was being irrational. "I wish I knew."
"What do you mean?"
With fluttering eyes to keep angry tears at bay, I opened my mouth but promptly
shut it when no sound came out. Edward immediately pulled me to him in a strong embrace;
his techniques for dealing with my emotions had improved so much, the petting being the
first to go. "Bella, it's all right. Tell me what's wrong and I promise to make it better."
I managed to cry only a little as I recounted the ordeal to Edward. This was why I
loved him so much (besides the other obvious reasons and his good looks); he always
listened to me no matter how mundane whatever I had to say was. When I was finished
venting my failure, he stepped back and smiled at me. "I swear to you on my Evenstar, I am
going to find a way to make this better."

  68  
 "Edward, that's really sweet, but that woman is seriously evil. I mean, she tried to put
me into another period of gym. She wanted to torture me."
His smile grew a little wider. "Be that as it may, it so happens that Ms. Cope is
acquainted with my mother. I'm sure if I go there and try to talk to her, we'll be able to
figure something out."
I knew it was completely impossible to change the hag's mind, but I didn't want to
ruin Edward's lunch by being so negative. When we arrived at our table, food in hand,
Angela was already there talking with a girl I had never met before. I found it a little strange
– no one ever sat at our table except for us – but Angela seemed enraptured in their
conversation. I didn't know why it bothered me. It wasn't like I minded that Angela had
other friends or anything. I was just really surprised. That was all (kind of).
"–this thing that guys do and apparently there's, like, lotions and tissues to clean up
and stuff, and it's called masturb-"
Edward's tray of food fell to the tiled floor with a loud crash. He swooped down to
pick everything up while I rushed over to grab napkins from the lunch line. What was that
about? Edward only did things like drop trays of food or set ovens on fire when he was in
great distress. I decided to ask him when we weren't surrounded by hundreds of staring
peers. Once we were finished and had thrown everything away, Edward and I sat down at
the table across from Angela and the girl.
"Bella, Edward, I'd like you to meet Cynthia. She's my freshman mentor," Angela
said.
"Hello." Cynthia held out her hand.
"One second," Edward said, reaching into his backpack and pulling out sanitation
wipes (because he's weird and carries stuff like that around with him). He handed one to me
and wiped his hands off on his own, before shaking Cynthia's hand. "It's nice to meet you."
A small wave of jealousy rolled through my stomach. First my best friend and then my
boyfriend? Who did this chick think she was? A quick glance at Edward's adoring face aimed
in my direction calmed my nerves immediately.
I really needed to work on my trust issues.
As usual, lunch passed too quickly, even with our new addition. Edward picked off
my food for fifteen minutes, then left to pursue his impossible mission of getting my
schedule changed. My suspicions about Ms. Nope being harder to crack than a Lord of the
Rings book were confirmed when, come seventh period, I still had to trudge my sorry ass
(mental wrist slap) to Musical Theater.
The first thirty minutes were spent with Mrs. McCrae at the piano figuring out the
vocal ranges of each student. That in and of itself was enough for a headache, but the
popular girls made it worse by attempting to be sopranos, even if they weren't. This equated
to a ridiculous amount of screeching. It was apparently "uncool" if you were an alto.
While Mrs. McCrae was busy with that, Alice and her screeching cronies were
endeavoring to put together a list of songs they wanted played at prom. This made no sense
because only upperclassmen got to go. Regardless, they discussed song after song. So far the
list contained a bunch of talentless nobodies, like Nelly, Eminem, and JLo. Clearly none of
them could recognize true talent. Not being allowed to join in the conversation (I wasn't part
of their "group"), I sat in my seat near the back of the class and pretended I had something
better to do than eavesdrop.

  69  
 "Oh my God! Put Avril Lavigne on the list!" Alice demanded. "Sk8er Boi has got to
be one of the greatest songs of all time." There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of
the group and I openly scoffed. Alice turned around in her seat. "Do you have a problem?"
I sat up straighter. "I just assumed you would put someone with actual talent on the
list."
Alice's face tightened, her body poised as if ready for a fight. I was willing to give her
one. "Avril Lavigne happens to be one of the greatest musicians of all time."
"Sure she is, if you consider a tie-wearing wannabe talented," I said.
"Fine. And who would the great Bella Swan like to hear at prom?"
Britney Spears. "Vanessa Carlton." I felt bad betraying Britney like that, but it just
wasn't cool to like her music anymore. Normally I wouldn't have cared, but I wanted to put
Alice in her place. When the girls agreed and wrote Vanessa's name on the list, I internally
cheered.
"Whatever. It doesn't matter what you want to listen to at prom since you aren't
going," she said.
"Neither are you," I reminded her, raising my eyebrows at the fact that she had
missed something so obvious.
"That shows how much you know. There's an upperclassman who's going to ask me
this year."
Oh, this was too good to be true. I smiled at her wickedly. "Sorry, Frosh. I didn't
realize." The only face I had ever seen turn as red as Alice's was my own. I wasn't sure
whether to laugh at my victory or duck and cover. The girl was starting to scare me. And
then, to my honest surprise, she turned back to her friends who had been quietly watching
our little exchange.
That was new. Normally if she was done tormenting me she would roll her eyes or
huff in annoyance before stalking off. I was almost positive that I had actually struck a nerve.
And I was relishing in it. My Jasper-love (not the same kind of love I had for Edward) was at
its peak. I didn't think it could get any better than this.
"Oh, how lovely for you to join us, Mr. Cullen!" Huh?
I looked up from my mirthful glare at the back of Alice's head to see Edward
standing at the front of the class with Mrs. McCrae. She was saying something, I was sure of
it, but all I could hear were my eardrums pounding. What was he doing here?
Edward looked up from the front of the class and gave me a brilliant smile. I was
momentarily distracted because, damn was he fine, but my mind quickly resumed its mental
list. Perhaps he had managed to convince Ms. Cope to transfer me into Yearbook and had
come to collect me. But then why did he have his belongings? And why did Mrs. McCrae say
he was joining us?
Certainly Edward wouldn't have transferred into Musical Theater. My stomach
dropped as I considered the possibilities. If Edward was in this class, and that increasingly
seemed the scenario when he deposited his backpack and sat next to me, he was going to
witness some of the most humiliating moments of my life.
Leaning in closely, he asked, "Are you okay?"
No. I could see everything unfolding in my head – me attempting a fan kick in
Edward's arms, missing my cue and falling down with my dress up over my head, the entire
class laughing, and Edward hanging his head in shame. "I'm fine," I said weakly. "So what
happened? Did you tr-transfer into this class?"

  70  
 Edward flashed me his smile again, though it seemed slightly unsure this time. "Well,
yes. I told you I'd find a way to make this better and there really was no way to get you into
Yearbook. So, I asked if I could come in here with you. This is better, right?"
I smiled faintly. He really should have talked to me before he did something so
detrimental to my sanity. How rude was it to give up something he truly loved to come and
suffer in this class with me? I had to convince him to take his seat in Yearbook back before
someone else did and he ended up resenting me for the rest of our lives.
Edward's empty seat in Yearbook. There was an empty seat in Yearbook. The thought
fleetingly crossed my mind to run to Ms. Cope's office and change my schedule, but was
immediately squashed by Alice's gallingly fake, "Edward! I'm so glad you're in this class now.
We can certainly use another guy!" Right. The only other boy in the class was Eric Yorkie,
and every girl in the vicinity was eyeing Edward as though he were some precious
commodity. Yeah, no way was I leaving Edward in this class.
Being so involved in protecting my Edward from the wandering eyes of theater girls,
I couldn't help but yelp when I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and yank me toward the
hall. I caught a glimpse of Mrs. McCrae opening her mouth to say something and Alice's
surprised eyes, but we were out the door before anyone could truly register what was going
on. Even I had no idea what was going on. Edward had never handled me like this before –
I kind of liked it.
He led me to a deserted hallway, let my wrist go, and began to pace furiously back
and forth. Edward had never been this disconcerted before, at least not in front of me, and it
was a little unnerving. "What's wrong?" I asked.
Edward stopped his pacing, his back turned to me. "I'm smothering you, aren't I?"
Guilt flooded my entire being. "No! No, of course you aren't smothering me!" I was
such a selfish bitch (mental wrist slap). Here my perfect, amazing, hot boyfriend had
sacrificed something he loved for me and all I did was make him feel like I was getting tired
of him.
Edward still hadn't said anything or even turned around to face me so I walked to
him and put my hand on his shoulder. He turned slowly, and I hated the sadness and hurt I
saw in his features.
"I'm so sorry," I said, tucking my face into his chest. He put his arms around me and
held me to him. "I just didn't want you to be humiliated by how horrible I am. You have no
idea how much I suck at singing and dancing, and it's going to be so embarrassing having
you watch me make a fool of myself," I confessed. "And you're going to laugh at me."
"Oh, Bella," Edward said, "I already laugh at you."
I yanked my head from his chest. "What?" I asked.
"Oh, yes," Edward said, no longer sad but amused. "In case you haven't noticed,
you're a klutz."
"You laugh at that?"
He nodded. "I normally wait until your back is turned or you're out of earshot, but
yes, I find it hilarious."
The tips of my ears felt hot as I spun back towards the classroom. Edward quickly
caught up and grabbed my hand, stopping me in front of the door. "If it helps, I also find it
incredibly endearing," he whispered before kissing me. There was no way I could stay mad at
him after that.

  71  
 Mrs. McCrae shot us an annoyed look when we entered the classroom and called me
over to the piano. Edward gave my hand one last squeeze and let go. We walked in opposite
directions – me to my inevitable doom and he to his viewing pleasure.
Standing at the front of the class behind the piano, I could see almost every girl
attempting to gain Edward's attention. I didn't like the way Eric Yorkie was looking at him
either. All this would have bothered me, except the only person that Edward was looking at
was me, his eyes dancing with humor as I began to sing.

Bella Swan
September 13, 2002

English I
Quiz #1 – Figurative Speech

Please give both the definition and an example of the terms listed below.

Metaphor:
Definition: comparing two things that are not alike to suggest something they might have in
common
Example: My birthday is a horror movie with too many sequels.

Simile:
Definition: comparing two things that are not alike using "like" or "as"
Example: My locker is decorated like a combination of my mother's bridal shower and my
grandmother's funeral.

Personification:
Definition: when an inanimate object is described as having human-like traits
Example: A daisy threw-up on my locker.

Hyperbole:
Definition: an exaggeration
Example: I want to kill my boyfriend for decorating my locker with daisy-themed wrapping
paper and alerting the whole school to the fact that it is my birthday.

(Note: The exaggeration is that I want to kill my boyfriend. The daisy-themed wrapping paper
part is true.)

Oxymoron:
Definition: a phrase that seemingly contradicts itself
Example: My boyfriend is obnoxiously sweet. My locker was horrifyingly beautiful. I am
hopelessly in love.

Onomatopoeia:
Definition: a word that looks like it sounds
Example: "Ouch!" is what my boyfriend will say when I punish him at lunch.

  72  
 My iron fist was at the ready. As soon as Edward arrived for lunch, I would give him
a black eye or a bloody nose for the stunt he pulled this morning. Oh, who was I kidding? I
could never mess up that perfect face. I'd probably punch him on the shoulder and think it
was cute when he pretended to be hurt.
Only, twenty minutes into lunch Edward still hadn't shown.
"Calm down. I'm sure he's fine. He probably got held up in class or something,"
Angela said.
She obviously didn't comprehend the seriousness of the situation. "You don't
understand – it's my birthday."
"You didn't want us to do anything for your birthday. Maybe Edward is respecting
your wishes."
"Are you serious? This is Edward we are talking about. If he respected my wishes I
wouldn't have three-dozen daisies and a hand-painted sign that says, 'Happy Birthday, Bella
Swan, born 2:57 AM, September 13, 1988,' currently stuffed in my locker."
"You do have a point." She stopped trying to comfort me after that. Something was
wrong; I could feel it in my bones.
An Edward-free hallway awaited after English class, which was a rare occurrence
indeed. But I didn't go into full panic mode until about ten minutes ago. No way would
Edward miss lunch on my birthday. And there was something else, this sort of weird energy
in the cafeteria. People who didn't normally sit together were clamoring into odd groupings
and talking eagerly about something big. More than a few times people shot glances my way.
At first, I thought it was because of the locker debacle, but now I was certain it was
something more.
I was mentioning this to Angela, when a lunch tray dropped down on our table.
Jessica Stanley plopped down in an empty seat. A quick glance at Angela showed that she
was as shocked as I was. "Hi, Jessica," she said. "Is there something we can do for you?"
"I thought Bella would like to know that Mike is doing fine."
"Um, okay. That's always good to hear," Angela said, perplexed.
"Yep." Jessica shoved a forkful of salad into her mouth, and didn't make any effort
to speak again for at least a minute. My muscles jumped when she suddenly looked up at me
with a sour expression. "Apparently an ambulance had to be called."
I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but I was almost positive she was
accusing me of something. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah," she said in a critical tone. "You know, you're lucky. You don't have to sit
here wondering whether your boyfriend is going to be all right or–"
"What does Edward have to do with this?" My panic inflated. She had mentioned an
ambulance earlier, and Edward was missing. My imagination went wild – Edward in a car
accident, Edward lying on the floor dead, Edward in the hospital clutching my hand as he
took his final breath…
Jessica gaped for a moment, recovering with a priggish look. "Wait, you're telling me
you have no idea what happened?" She sounded overjoyed at the idea.
"Cut the shit, and tell me what the hell is going on." Screw being subtle; now was not
the time to mess with me.
The holier-than-thou look on Jessica's face transformed to indignation. "You know
what? I don't think I will." She snatched up her tray and walked away.

  73  
 Before I could speak two words to Angela, Cynthia dropped into Jessica's seat and
grabbed my hand. "Oh, Bella, you must be so worried. I would be freaking out if I were
you."
"I am freaking out. Tell me what the hell is going on!" I shouted. And then added,
"please," at Cynthia's shocked face.
She seemed reluctant. "Don't you know that Edward got suspended from school for
getting in a fight with Mike Newton?"
It was worse than I could have imagined. "When you say fight, do you mean like, you
know, like a fist fight?"
Cynthia nodded while Angela put her arm around me. "I'm sure he's all right," she
said, ever the best friend.
"Yeah, I'm sure he's fine," Cynthia said. "From what I hear, Mike got the worst of
it."
"What happened?" I asked.
Cynthia sighed a little. My eyes immediately narrowed – it wasn't a sympathetic sigh,
so much as it was a wistful sigh. The kind of sigh a girl does when she's looking at a really hot
guy. My dislike of Cynthia intensified. "It's actually kind of romantic," she began. She
definitely wasn't off to a good start, and I think I may have snarled because she added,
"Because it was over you, Bella."
I perked up at that. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't have all the details, but they were in the locker room before gym and
Mike said some stuff about you."
"What kind of stuff?"
She shrugged. "Whatever it was, Edward didn't like it because he attacked Mike and
apparently it took ten guys to get Edward off him. And then I guess Mike had to be taken to
the hospital and Edward got suspended."
The picture Cynthia painted was entrancing. Edward took on Mike plus ten other
guys for me? How acutely Shane West of him. "I have to go," I said, grabbing my backpack
and stuffing my untouched lunch into it.
Angela grabbed my arm. "Wait, where are you going? It's the middle of the school
day. You can't leave."
"I have to get out of here." I zipped my bag and turned to her. "Look, Edward got
hurt defending me. I can't sit here without knowing if he's all right."
"But you can't ditch school–"
"Angela," I said aggressively, "he is the love of my life. I have to know if he's okay.
I'll call Charlie and tell him I'm sick or something, but I'm not staying here."
She hesitated for only a second. "Just be careful."
I ran from the lunchroom to the front office. It didn't matter if my father would
come get me; I would walk to Edward's house if circumstance forced me to. The only thing
that was important right now was getting to him. Up until ten minutes ago, Jasper Whitlock
had been my idol. But if what Cynthia said was true, my boyfriend had defended my honor. I
now realized what it meant to be a true hero, and mine was Edward Cullen.

"Dad, this is an emergency. Will you please turn on the sirens?"

"No, this is not an emergency. I keep telling you that Edward is fine."
My expression became somber as possible. "Please, Daddy?"

  74  
 It took all of a few seconds for him to reach over and press the button that turned
on the sirens, and I learned something very interesting about my father; he was too clever to
fall for the old "I'm sick" excuse, but a strategically placed "Please, Daddy, it's my birthday"
and he was a goner. Exactly ten minutes after I had called him from the office, he was
pulling up in his police cruiser to drive me to Edward's house.
I was bracing myself for the worst, but nothing (not even permanent disfigurement)
could stop me from wanting Edward.
"Will you stop doing that?" Charlie asked.
"Stop doing what?"
"Stop hyperventilating. I told you, Edward is fine."
"How would you know? They had to call an ambulance, Dad. An ambulance. This is
serious."
"No, they didn't."
"Yes, they did," I insisted. "And how would you know? It's not like you were there."
"Actually, I was," Charlie said.
"Oh, my God! They called the police? Did you arrest my boyfriend?"
"Calm down and stop being so dramatic. I didn't arrest Edward. I was actually there
acting in a, um, different capacity." Charlie seemed to be choosing his words very carefully.
"What does that mean?"
"Look, it doesn't matter and it's none of your business."
"Anything having to do with Edward is my business."
"Then you'll have to talk about that with Edward," he said, pulling up in front of the
Cullens' house. I hopped out of the cruiser, annoyed with his discretion, and slammed the
door for good measure. He was chuckling as he pulled out of the driveway.
Everyone kept telling me that Edward was fine, but what did that mean? Their
standard of fine and my standard of fine were two different things. The thirty-four seconds I
counted between the time I rang the bell and Edward opened the door were probably the
longest of my life, and when it finally did open, I gasped.
Edward was fine.
As in, Edward was fine.
As in, I was going to be beating the girls off of him with a stick because he looked so
devastatingly handsome with his darkened eye, a cut above his left eyebrow, and a bruise on
his cheek. He looked so rugged and manly.
Both of us stood unmoving in the doorway. I was staring at him (covertly checking
him out) and he was staring at me, too, a million emotions portrayed in the depth of his
green eyes. "What are you thinking?"
There were so many ways I could answer that question, but none of them seemed
appropriate. Opening my mouth, I prayed for the best. "I kind of want to lick you." I
blushed heavily and cursed my lack of mouth filter.
Edward cracked a small smile and took a step toward me. "So, you aren't completely
disgusted?"
Oh, I was disgusted… with myself. "No, of course not," I said, reaching out for his
hand. "Why would I be disgusted?"
He watched me run my thumb over his bruised knuckles. "I don't want to be a
monster."
I snorted. "What does that even mean?" Hopefully that wasn't an offensive question.

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 "I don't know. I got mad today. Really mad. I've never been in a fight before, and I
managed to mess up Mike pretty badly. It was like it wasn't me inside my body. That doesn't
make sense…" he trailed off.
"Yes, it does," I said, stepping inside his house. Edward followed me to the large
sofa in the living room. I curled up beside him, wanting to be as close to him (and his action-
star hotness) as possible. "What happened exactly?"
"I'm sure you heard the gist of it at school," he said, but he didn't seem too happy
with that idea.
"I want to hear it from you."
"It was nothing really. We were in the locker room, Mike said some stuff I didn't like,
I hit him, he hit me, we fought, and Emmett and Tyler pulled me off him."
Oh. Not ten people then. I bet there wasn't even an ambulance. "What did Mike
say?"
"Nothing of importance."
"But it was about me." I was annoyed he was holding back the gory details.
Edward paused, before saying, "Yes, it was."
"That wasn't a question. I already knew it was about me, but what did he say?"
"I have something for you." Edward stood and walked out of the room, returning a
moment later with a large, wrapped box.
"You can't distract me with presents!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Edward said, placing the box in front of
the couch.
"I'm not opening that," I said.
He didn't give up either, of course. "Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"Why are you being so difficult?" he pouted.
"Why won't you tell me what he said?"
"Because it was rude and horrible and I really don't want to talk about it," Edward
said. "Please, Bella, it was disgusting enough that it made me hit him. Please, don't make me
say it out loud."
He so rarely asked me for anything, that I muttered, "Fine," and turned to the
package. It was wrapped in the same horrible daisy-covered wrapping paper as my locker. I
briefly considered bringing that up again, but decided Edward had taken enough of a beating
for one day. I ripped the wrapping paper and opened the box to find some kind of dress
inside. It was a light shade of blue and almost robe-like in its design. It looked a little
medieval and vaguely familiar.
"It's a replica of one of Arwen's dresses," Edward said. "I thought we could go as a
matching set to the midnight showing of The Two Towers this year. I'll be your Aragorn, if
you'll be my Arwen."
"Yes, absolutely," I said, now very excited for December. "I love it. Thank you so
much."
"I promise to always defend you, like Aragorn." There was so much honesty and
devotion in his voice, a chill went down my spine. "What do you want to do now?"
My answer was immediate. "Let's go watch a movie." That was code for, "Let's go
make-out."

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 The movie room was probably my favorite in the entire house, aside from Edward's
bedroom. It had a big screen TV and several comfortable couches that were conducive to a
comfortable make-out session. I picked my favorite couch, while Edward put a movie in and
turned out the lights.
When Edward sat next to me, I became hyper-aware of the sexual tension crackling
between us. Crossing my arms over my chest and balling my hands into fists, so as not to be
overwhelmed by my sudden desire to ravage him, I glanced over at Edward to find his
posture was identical to mine. A pang of longing shot through me as I marveled at his
perfection.
He turned to say something to me and desire ripped through my chest when our
eyes connected. We stared at each other before it became too much, and I looked back to
the television screen. It was an unspoken rule that we at least pretended to watch the first
half of the movie before we began kissing. It was more socially acceptable that way (and
made us feel less guilty about making out while his parents were in the other room).
Of their own accord, my eyes flickered to his face. His desire-filled gaze was still
upon me. Whether because of the yearning I saw there or the fact that he looked like he'd
saved the day in some high-impact movie, I decided our rule was bullshit. I kissed him with
ferocity and passion, and Edward matched my kiss with a fervor to rival the gods.
It wasn't long before I was lying down on the couch with Edward hovering over me,
one arm at my waist and the other supporting my neck. We had never made-out in this
position before and there was a slight discomfort on my leg – something from Edward's
pocket kept poking me. I ignored it at first, not wanting to ruin the mood by pointing it out
to Edward, but after a few minutes the poking grew more insistent and therefore more
irritating.
I decided the best course of action would be to simply move the offending object
without Edward noticing. I maneuvered my hand down his chest and at first he seemed to
enjoy it, but he stiffened when I reached his waist and grabbed my wrist.
My eyes shot open to his surprised face. "Bella Swan, what do you think you are
doing?" he asked in a hoarse voice.
"Uh, I was just going to…" my eyes shot down to his waist, hoping that he would
catch the meaning without having to finish my sentence.
He launched himself to the other side of the couch, and ran his fingers through his
hair and over his face. I sat up slowly, not wanting to disturb him too much and not
knowing what I had done to cause such a reaction. Edward clearly was not happy. "What –
what are your expectations of me?" he asked.
"Um, I guess I expect you to always be honest with me and tell me if something's
bothering you."
Edward shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. What are your expectations of
me physically," he clarified.
I was definitely confused. This really didn't seem like the time or the place to be
talking about this. "Well, I do kind-of expect you to stay in shape. I like your hair the way it
is though."
"Bella, I mean," Edward hesitated and took a deep breath before whispering,
"sexually."
Every bit of advice Renee had ever given me on this subject started flipping through
my mind like a recipe guide. Boys think about sex differently than girls. It's about survival of the species.
It's hardwired into them so that we won't die off. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of her

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advice. Edward was different than other boys. Certainly, he didn't think about sex like that.
Or, at least, that's what I thought.
"Uh, what do you expect, ya know, sexually?" I whispered the last word like a curse. It
felt foreign on my lips. Sex wasn't something I ever thought of, really. Even with dating
Edward it seemed so far off in the future.
I held my breath (metaphorically) for Edward's response. I wasn't ready, whether he
thought we were or not, and a discrepancy in our opinions could have serious consequences
for our relationship. If Edward wanted to, would I do it for him? Ms. Evan's words hit me
then like a ton of bricks. Never change myself for someone else, she'd said in the bathroom.
No, I decided, I would not have sex with Edward. Hopefully he would be okay with that.
Edward was watching me closely, gauging my reaction. "I think we should wait."
"Me, too. Definitely think we should wait," I said, beyond relieved.
"Good. And, uh, I think we should wait on everything."
"I concur," I agreed happily, thrilled that this matter had been resolved so quickly.
"And when I say everything, I mean everything everything."
"Uh, okay?" It came out sounding like a question, but I was annoyed and confused
by the fact that he felt the need to reiterate a point that I already understood and agreed to.
"I mean, it's not that I don't appreciate your offer to do… that," he said with a quick
glance down at his lap. "It's that, I think it'd be best if we waited."
My eyebrows quirked questioningly at him, confounded about what he was talking
about. Then, a light bulb went off. "No, no, no," I corrected. "I wasn't going to do that.
Something was poking me and I was going to…" I trailed off as light bulb number two lit
up.
Oh. Oh.
Even with the lights dimmed, I could see Edward's face redden in the light from the
TV. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be! I mean, I'm the idiot." Renee had taught me the technical aspects of what
happened when boys got… excited, but I had been young and it seemed so gross at the time
that I had made every effort to repress that particular conversation. Now I felt stupid for
having brushed it off, especially after dating Edward for almost a year. These things were
important. Maybe I should place another call to Renee...
"So, uh, how long do you think we should wait?" I asked, hoping to change the
subject off of his, er, problem.
"Well, I was thinking we should wait until marriage. My parents waited, and I've
recently received some advice from another reliable source to wait until then."
My heart soared at the words. Well, mostly at one word – marriage. Edward was
thinking about marriage! He was thinking about marrying me! He must love me then, if he
was thinking about something so far in the future. "Marriage sounds good to me. I mean,
waiting until then sounds good," I said.
This sex thing was so easy. I was dating Edward, the hottest, most perfect boy on the
planet and he wanted to wait until marriage. How did I get so lucky? I had a good five to ten
years before I needed to worry about doing it. I wouldn't even have to think about it until
then.
It was going to be a piece of cake.

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 Chapter 13: The First Time She Noticed a Problem

"How hard is it to get a damn 'I love you?' " My locker slammed shut. "Edward all
but proposes marriage last week. Yet, he can't say a simple, teeny-tiny term to let me know
he cares?" The rustling fabric of my books being stuffed into my backpack covered Angela's
exasperated sigh. This wasn't the first or second or hundredth time I'd brought up this topic.
"As I've said before on numerous occasions, you've got to give it time," she said.
"He'll tell you when he's ready."
"Time? I've given him plenty of time. Time is not a luxury I can afford at this rate."
"Fine. You should tell him. Take control. You are a strong, independent woman,"
Angela said with conviction.
"I am?"
"Yes."
"Fine, I'll tell Edward I love him the day you ask Ben Cheney out on a date."
Angela looked down at her scuffling shoes. "That's not the same thing and you know
it. Edward at least feels something for you. Ben just…" she trailed off dejectedly.
I gave her an encouraging nudge. "Oh, come on. The signs are all there. You're just
too clueless to notice them."
"I am not clueless."
"Fine, maybe not clueless, but definitely oblivious."
"You've been playing with your thesaurus again, I see." Banter was so easy and
effortless with Angela. It was kind of like having a female Edward around, except without
the Lord of the Rings obsession and the making out. "So, remind me again, why won't you tell
Edward that you love him first?"
"Because that's not how these things work. The boy is supposed to tell the girl that
he loves her first. Just like the boy is supposed to ask the girl out on the first date, and the
boy is supposed to ask her to be his girlfriend, and the boy is supposed to propose."
"You know, there is this thing called feminism. This isn't nineteenth-century England
we're talking about. It's 2002 – you can wear pants, you can vote, and you're allowed to be
forward with the boy you're in love with. If not for you, do it for the sake of all the women
who fought to give you those rights," she said.
"Yeah. This coming from a girl who has crushed on a boy for over two years and still
hasn't had the guts to do anything about it."
My point was so obviously rock-solid that Angela changed the subject. "Have you
decided whether you want to go to the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Chamber of
Secrets with me?"
Now that was a whole other kettle of fish. Edward detested Harry Potter on a
molecular level (in an Alyssa Milano versus Shannen Doherty way). If I did go to the movie,
I'd have to keep him from finding out or risk his wrath. Trust was important in a
relationship. Edward would never lie to me again after the incident with his mother, and he
deserved the same courtesy from me. Still, I wanted to go.
"I'm not sure, yet," I said.
"This is about Edward, isn't it?"
"Uh, I guess you could kind of say that." I braced myself for another feminism
speech.

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 She didn't disappoint. "Bella, you are allowed to be your own person. You are
allowed to like things that Edward doesn't like. That's what makes life interesting."
"Yes, I know that," I said somewhat heatedly. "But this is something Edward is
extremely passionate about. There are things he doesn't like, that he does for me."
"Like what?" she asked. "You work for the company that he created. You watch all
the movies that he likes–"
"Hey! He watched Crossroads with me."
"You saw The Lord of the Rings seventeen times in theaters because he wanted to!
What has he done that you like to do?"
The first thing that entered my mind was, "He transferred into Musical Theater to be
with me." She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it. "Just spit it out," I said,
annoyed with my best friend.
"Fine. You know that I really like Edward. But Musical Theater? You have to admit,
he is a bit clingy."
I felt like I had been slapped. "He is not clingy. And, it so happens that a lot of the
things we enjoy overlap. I don't hate Lord of the Rings… that much," I added at Angela's
quirked eyebrow.
"Look, as I said, I like Edward a lot. I'm not telling you this so you'll break up with
him, but my advice is that you two need to start doing things apart. Haven't you noticed that
he doesn't have any real guy friends?"
"We do a lot of things apart. Seriously, he spends every Saturday with his father, and
you and I always have sleepovers. And why does he need guy friends?"
"Would you say that you don't need me as a best friend?" She didn't sound hurt, only
logical. And she made a good argument. I wouldn't be complete if we weren't friends.
But, I wasn't about to admit defeat quite yet. "I'll think about what you said. I have
to get to class. See you later."
"Okay, and think about Harry Potter some more while you're at it," she said, breaking
off in the other direction.
Edward's smiling face was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. Most of the
bruising from his fight with Mike had gone down, but he still looked ruggedly handsome
with a tint of blue and black around his eye. No matter how many times I caught myself
staring at Edward, I was always surprised to find him more gorgeous than the time before. I
truly was blessed, whatever Angela said to the contrary.
"Are you going to stand there checking me out for the rest of the day or are we
going to go to class?" he asked. I loved that we could joke about things we'd once been shy
and insecure about.
"Checking you out is far more amusing than Musical Theater."
"I heartily disagree," he said, grabbing my hand.
"Of course you do. Checking yourself out isn't half as amusing as checking out
someone else," I said. "Unless you're Fabio."
Edward snorted. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm no Fabio."
"No, you're better," I said. "Ripped abs and big muscles don't impress me too much,
nor does a guy who looks like his hair is a ridiculously cheap wig. Not to mention, he walks
around half-naked most of the time and has a habit of spouting out stupid lines like, 'The
clouds I can handle, but I can't fight with an eclipse.' Who says stuff like that anyway?"
"Is there a point to all this?" Edward cut off my ramblings, an amused look in his
eye.

  80  
 "Yes. I was trying to say that I find you rather attractive." I wanted to tell him he was
downright edible (kind of like chocolate ice cream), but our relationship probably couldn't
survive any more food analogies.
"Really?" Edward asked. "In that case, you should know that listing off another
man's physical qualities doesn't exactly appeal to the male ego."
"And what does?"
"Hmm." He tapped a thoughtful finger to his chin. "If you kissed me right now."
A smile spread across my face. I leaned up and said, "If that's all it takes to make you
feel attractive, then I promise that after school today I'll make you feel like the most
attractive man in the world."
He groaned softly and stepped away. "Bella, you can't say stuff like that to me in the
middle of the school day."
"Why not?" I asked, surprised by his obvious reluctance to my proposed make-out
session. "Do you not want to?"
Edward laughed ironically and dragged me into the Musical Theater classroom,
muttering something that sounded like, "Ridiculous, silly, perfect girl," along the way. Once
we'd taken our seats in the back, he said, "What I was saying before you distracted me with
talk of checking myself out and Fabio was that I find Musical Theater to be quite
entertaining."
"And why is that?" I asked, distractedly searching my backpack for last week's notes
on different theater productions.
"Because it's far more amusing to check you out while you're in front of the class
singing."
I stopped my search and turned towards him in surprise. Edward was always telling
me how beautiful and pretty I was, but I'd never stopped to consider that he might see me
the same way I saw him. "You check me out?"
"You're not the only one with eyes, Bella." He tried to maintain a confident
expression, but the pink tint at the top of his ears gave away his timidity. He normally wasn't
this forward. "And I know you won't believe me, but when you sing you have the sweetest,
most beautiful voice."
I chortled at that and went back to searching through my backpack. Edward,
however, grabbed my hand before I could complete the task. "Sometimes I think I don't tell
you often enough how wonderful you are," he said.
My heart fluttered, as it normally did when he said things like that. "Funny. I was just
thinking the same thing."
"Edward, you're back!" Alice f-word Brandon plopped herself in a neighboring chair,
ruining the moment the way only she could. "I've been dying to get your side of the fight
with Mike since last week." This had been a constant annoyance for Edward throughout the
day. He had never been what people would consider classically popular (even though he was
the best looking guy in school), but today had been filled with random people trying to give
him high-fives and asking what went down. He was practically on autopilot by now, saying
that it was no big deal and highly exaggerated from the tale we had heard while he was
suspended.
He told Alice the same thing, but she scoffed and said, "Come on! You beat the crap
out of Mike. What's your secret? You don't seem like the kind of guy who could do that."
Clearly at the end of his patience, he said, "I had an adrenaline rush. It's very
common. You can Google it."

  81  
 I cracked up at his jab. Seeing Edward loosen up and not be such a perfect
gentleman was thrilling. Alice, clearly irritated that her question wasn't going to be answered
to her satisfaction, stood up and walked away without another word. I wanted to shout out
to her and the rest of the world that I loved this man. I could feel the words on the tip of my
tongue, but I wasn't going to be the one that said it first. So I spat a random question out
instead. "What's Google?"
Edward looked at me in bewilderment. "You don't know what Google is?"
"Never heard of it."
Mrs. McCrae came into the classroom and started talking before he could respond.
"We have a very busy day today. We're going to take a little trip to the school auditorium.
That is where our play will be held at the end of the school year, and I'm happy to announce
that I have finally decided on what that production is going to be." The girls in the class
perked up, all desperate to be the lead in the play, the center of the spotlight.
"Keep in mind that auditions for the production won't be held until the beginning of
February," Mrs. McCrae reminded the class, I assumed in response to the girls' wistful
glances. For the life of me, I couldn't understand what was so appealing about being in a
musical, much less the lead. I was perfectly happy to sit back and watch the mindless cattle
clamor for that dooming role. "We'll be performing Roger and Hammerstein's Cinderella."
The first thing that went through my mind was that she had the worst taste in
musicals ever.
The second thing that crossed my mind, almost eclipsing the first thought altogether,
was that someone was going to have to be Prince Charming, and it sure as hell wasn't going
to be Eric Yorkie. Horror gripped me as I realized that I was going to have to play
Cinderella. I'd be damned before any other girl got to be Edward's leading lady.
At this revelation, a barrage of terrifying snapshots flashed before my eyes. The
worst of which was me in a blonde wig and puffy blue dress tumbling down a prop staircase,
landing on my head, and flashing the entire school my underwear. Edward must have felt the
anxiety rolling off me because when I asked to be excused to the bathroom, he offered to
come with me.
"Don't be ridiculous," I whispered. "I'm going to the girls' bathroom."
The halls were completely deserted. I basked in the eerie stillness, oddly comforted
by walking down one desolate corridor after another while my mind worked through the
repugnance at being one of mindless cattle fighting for Cinderella. So consumed in my
thoughts was I, that a surprised squawk escaped me when I opened the bathroom door. A
girl hovered over the sink, washing tears from her eyes.
"What the fuck are you doing in here?" Rosalie Hale asked.
"This is the girls' bathroom," I said; though, really, it was kind of obvious.
Rosalie rolled her eyes and went back to wiping the tears from her reddened cheeks.
"Well, are you going to stand there staring at me or are you going to do your business and
get the hell out?"
Not being the type of girl that could pee on demand, I hurried to a stall and grabbed
a handful of toilet paper, warily offering it to Rosalie when I returned. She snatched the
tissue from me and blew her nose loudly. The un-ladylike foghorn noise was not what I
expected.
"What are you staring at?" she barked. I directed my gaze to the mirror instead. The
difference between the two of us was startling. Rosalie was tall, blonde, and statuesque; I was

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short, brunette, and completely ordinary. I didn't care in the least, though. Edward never
liked blondes anyway. "Thank you," she said, throwing away the tissue.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, feeling adventurous today.
"Why? So you can gossip about the woes of Rosalie Hale around school? No, thank
you," Rosalie said incredulously.
"No, of course not! I don't have that many people to talk to – only Edward Cullen
and Angela Webber. And I wouldn't tell either of them. I just thought I could help." She
wasn't convinced. "Look, a while ago someone found me in a bathroom crying. I ended up
telling her what was wrong and I felt so much better afterwards. And she even gave me great
advice that helped me out tons."
"Oh, really?" she asked sarcastically. "If that's true, then what was your problem?"
If I wasn't genuinely worried for her emotional well-being, I probably wouldn't have
admitted, "I was dressing like a skank to try and impress Edward."
"I remember that! It was pretty cringe-worthy."
"Thanks."
Rosalie drummed her finger on the sink, considering my offer. "Fine," she said
abruptly. "Emmett broke up with me."
My eyes widened in disbelief. "But why? You guys seemed so perfect for each other!"
"It's all my fault," she sobbed, another round of tears slipping down her cheeks.
I reached out a hand and patted her clumsily on the back. "What happened?"
She looked at me through her tears. "You promise you won't tell anyone?"
"Pinky promise."

09/19/2002

OMG, Diary, this is completely scandalous, so brace yourself.

A few nights ago Rosalie and Emmett got into a fight because Rosalie saw Emmett talking to
Alice and Alice was flirting. I'm beginning to really dislike that girl. Emmett swore that nothing
was going on, but Rosalie wouldn't hear it. Rosalie (I have to admit) is kind of a slut. She
showed Emmett's best friend her bra and snuck out her house that night to go make out with
him to get even with Emmett.

Royce told Emmett and both of them decided they couldn't take the pressure. And now she's
alone. I do feel sort of bad for her, even though it WAS her fault. But I didn't tell Rosalie
that. I let her tell me everything and told her I wasn't going to take sides. But, yeah, I was
fighting to keep my mouth shut, especially when I found out that this is the third time Emmett
and Rosalie have broken up.

All this happened because of a lack of trust on Rosalie's part. She should have known that
Emmett would never cheat on her with that skank Alice. I really hope nothing like this ever
happens with me and Edward, and I'm confident it won't . Edward and I are perfect for each
other, and I know I could never find another man attractive like I find Edward attractive
(except his father, but if you think about it, it makes sense that I would find Dr. Cullen a little
hot because Edward has half his genes).

I love that I can trust Edward to never be with anyone but me. I love that I can trust him
to share my thoughts and feelings, and in return, I love that he trusts me enough to share his
with me. I don't know what I'd do if Edward and I ever broke up.

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Anyways, got to go to bed. I'm still debating about the midnight showing of Harry Potter and
the Chamber of Secrets. What do you think I should do?

Bella

It was a Saturday in October. Edward was at a paper airplane convention with his
father, Angela was stuck at home with her twin brothers, and I was bored out of my mind.
As luck would have it, Charlie had forgotten his lunch in the refrigerator. Being the fantastic
daughter I was (and so painstakingly unengaged), I decided to trek over to the Police Station
to bring it to him.
Imagine my surprise when, forty-five minutes and two nose dives later, I walked in
to find Mini-Charlie behind the front desk. And by Mini-Charlie I meant Edward, dressed in
a navy-colored police uniform complete with boots and a small, gold sheriff's badge. Add a
mustache and he'd have been the exact replica of my father twenty years ago. It was freaking
me out.
"I'll be right with you," Edward said, having not looked up amid the station door
opening. His attention was focused on a stack of papers and a filing cabinet. Why was he
acting like a freaking secretary? Why was he here at all? He filed one more sheet away, then
turned to me.
The questions rolled off my tongue perfunctorily. "What's going on? Why aren't you
in Seattle? What the hell are you wearing?"
The stack of papers he was holding scattered to the floor. His hands flew to his
mouth and a muffled curse sounded through them. Everything in his body language
screamed of guilt, uncannily reminding me of the time his mother turned out to be our
eighth grade Yearbook teacher. Behind his eyes, that brilliant mind was working a million
miles an hour. His hands gave the excuse of procrastination, as they gradually slid down his
face until only his bottom lip was pinched between his forefingers.
"The truth, please," I said.
Edward released his lip and puffed out his chest. "I'm a volunteer deputy."
As if that was something to be proud of. "I'm confused. What do you mean you're a
volunteer deputy?"
"I," he dragged out the letter, formulating his answer on the spot, "work directly
under the Chief to ensure the continued efficiency of a well-organized office."
"So, you're a secretary," I deduced.
He looked taken back by my conclusion. "Well, I wouldn't call it that. As outlined by
the Forks Police Department Handbook–"
"How long has this been going on?"
His fingers tapped a nervous rhythm into the surface of his desk. "I guess since
September."
"You've been lying to me for the past month? How could you?" I balled my hands
into fists to suppress my anger (or to punch him). Looking down at his fingers he mumbled
something. "What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."
"I meant," he said louder, "that I've been doing this since September last year."
Raw fury coursed through my veins, fueling my body to vibrate with the enraged
pounding of my heart. "Explain yourself."

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 He at least had the decency to look ashamed. "You know last year when I met your
father for the first time?" I tilted my head. "Well, one thing led to another and the
opportunity kind of presented itself." He explained about that fateful first meeting. How my
father had pretended to think he was coming in to interview to be a volunteer deputy. How
he had gone along with it. At least I wasn't the only one Edward lied to. "Of course, he
called me out on my falsehood and asked me why I had a letter of recommendation from my
mother assuring him that I would be the perfect gentleman to his daughter. The game was
up then."
He paused briefly to emphasize the next part of his tale. "I told him you were my
soul mate and asked his permission to court you. He gave it under the condition that I
volunteer here."
"Isn't that sweet?" I jeered, even though it was. "And then little boy Edward became
a liar."
"It wasn't like that. At first, I was too shy to tell you."
"And in the year since? You've been too shy to tell me, but not too shy to stick your
tongue down my throat?"
"Look, Bella, I haven't told you because I knew you'd be upset."
"You're damn right I'm upset! How could you do this to me? Lying by omission is
still lying, and you did that with your mother. But outright lying to me for the past year..." I
took a deep breath. "All I've ever wanted was for you to be honest with me. I tell you
everything, absolutely everything, but it seems I'm not good enough for you to talk to." I was
on the verge of tears by the end of my speech.
"Edward, what is all the yelling about?" When he saw me, Charlie turned on his heel
and walked right back into his office. Coward. I'd deal with him later.
In the wake of my father's disruption a silence settled over the office. After a few
moments, Edward held out an uncertain hand to me. I turned my back to him.
"Please, Bella." Not even my stubbornness or pride could refuse Edward comfort
when he sounded so distraught. Tentatively, I took his hand. He seemed relieved, and led me
to the lobby couch. Instead of sitting, Edward knelt on one knee in front of me. It looked
like he was about to propose. It was too soon for that though, wasn't it? Oh, heck, I'd
probably say yes even if it was. Actually, no, I wouldn't. I was pissed at him, and determined
to stay that way.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I was trying to do the right thing by gaining your father's
approval. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I felt like I was finally getting on his good
side. I thought if I told, you'd ask me to stop. And I would have, because I would do
anything you asked me. Anything. Please, don't tell me that I've messed this up for good.
Please tell me I still have a shot with you."
Oh, be still my pounding heart. Edward had a way of getting out of trouble with his
beautiful words. It upset me that he was charming his way into forgiveness, and pissed me
off that it was working. A year of lies, a year of deceit, a year of not knowing something so pivotal, I
reminded myself. This would have been terribly romantic a year ago. But now all I saw when
I looked into his green eyes was a liar (and, well, the perfect features of his face may have
been in the peripheral).
I shook my head and stood up, turning my back to him once more. "I don't know,
Edward. I don't know what to think. Do I even know you? What else have you been lying
about?"
Edward stood as well. "Nothing. I promise."

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 "What do your promises mean to me now?" I asked sadly.
Edward was silent. He was too silent for too long. When I turned around, his head
was buried in his hands. "Look at me," I said. Never had I seen Edward cry before. I wasn't
sure if that was what I was witnessing now, but the rims of his eyes were red and his cheeks
were flushed. A small piece of my heart broke in a big way.
And that was the moment I knew Edward Cullen loved me. I'd only ever seen that
look once on a man's face. It was a vague memory, but that haunted expression had graced
my father's features as I'd taken one last look from the back seat of my mother's car.
Precisely how I'd wanted to back then, I took a step towards Edward and leaned into
his chest. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled into my hair.
"Yeah, well, you still have to make it up to me." Maybe I was still a little bitter. Okay,
I was very bitter. Perhaps it was a lie in itself that I was pretending to forgive Edward, but it
was easier than dealing with his absolute devastation.
"I will, I promise. I'll do anything," he said, wrapping his arms around me.
We were, of course, interrupted by Charlie. The way Edward practically jumped out
of his skin kind of made it worth it, though. "Hey, Dad, I brought you lunch." I walked to
his doorway.
"Why, thank you, Bells. Go ahead and set it in that chair," he said, as if I hadn't just
found out he'd lied to me for the last year.
I gave him a stony glare, then accidentally dropped his lunch into the trashcan.
"Oops," I said with no remorse. His moustache twitched, but he didn't say anything about it.
Instead, he offered me a ride home.
"I have to make a call first." I picked up the phone from his desk and dialed one of
the only numbers I knew by heart. If Edward was allowed to have secrets, then I could have
one of my own. "Angela, count me in for the midnight showing."

Harry Potter's voice had broken.

Harry Potter had grown up.

Harry Potter had saved the day.

And now Harry Potter was hot and sweaty.

"Let us hope that Mr. Potter will always be around to save the day."

"Don't worry. I will be."

.
.
.
Edward who?

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 Chapter 14: The First Time They Broke Up

February 7, 2003

Love, life, meaning… over.

My guilt abundacized (was that a word?) as I held Edward's hand during the
midnight showing of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. Just under a month ago I had sat in
this very theater and ogled Harry Potter.
Was it cheating to simply look at another man? Admiring a few pictures of Daniel
Radcliffe (or Dan, as he liked to be called) didn't hurt anyone, right? And learning a little
about him was harmless too. Knowledge was power, after all. Like, knowing his middle
name was Jacob could come in handy someday... And his birthday was July 23, 1989. And he
was 5'3" inches tall. And he had two Border Terriers named Binka and Nugget and his
favorite colors were blue and yellow… and his favorite soda was Diet Coke. It was all very
essential.
Edward drew my attention back to the movie by gripping my hand tighter. Ah, yes,
Arwen was on screen now. I took a sip of Diet Coke (my new favorite soda). What did
Edward see in her? The countless sketches in Edward's notebook of my face with pointy
ears and Arwen's body had soured me to the character. Perhaps it wasn't healthy that tonight
I had indulged his little fantasy by donning the Arwen-replica dress he'd given me for my
birthday (which, I was beginning to realize, was more a present for himself).
When I'd first tried it on, the neckline of the dress revealed some newfound cleavage.
I had boobs; who knew? Mrs. Cullen had made a few alterations for my modesty's sake, and
then did my hair in elegant waves, with half of it pulled back into an Elven twist. Spending
that time with Mrs. Cullen had made me miss my mother, but when Edward saw me in the
Arwen costume I knew that moving to Forks had been the best decision of my life.
He looked incredibly handsome, standing at the bottom of the stairs with my
Evenstar around his neck. It felt like there was no one else in the room when I looked at
him. His eyes revealed his every emotion at my appearance. He didn't say anything, just
sweetly lifted a hand to my face and brushed it against my cheek. "Thank you," he'd
mouthed to his mother.
Mostly, I was overjoyed that I could make him happy this way. But that little two-
percent nagged in the back of my mind, saying I shouldn't have to dress up as another
woman to inspire such a reaction.
That resentfulness increased tenfold as, on-screen, Aragorn declared he was leaving
Arwen. As stupid as it sounded, I equated Arwen and Aragorn's relationship to my own
relationship with Edward. My heart felt as though it would beat right out of my chest when
he reached out his hand to return her Evenstar.
"You have a chance for another life," Aragorn said in Elven.
"Why are you saying this?" she asked, heartbroken.
"I am a mortal, you are Elf-kind. It was a dream, Arwen. Nothing more."

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 Edward leaned over, my Evenstar dangling freely from his neck, and placed a
feather-light kiss on my cheek. "It's all right. I promise they end up together, like they are
meant to be," he whispered.
Their love had been infallible and perfect, but Aragorn had left Arwen over
something as stupid as mortality. What would Edward do if we were in the same situation? I
shook the thought away and tried to focus back on the movie, but the question remained –
was Edward capable of leaving me?
And who the hell was this Eowyn bitch?

With the perplexing exception of Lord of the Rings, Edward always had a way of
making something I disliked magical. I had never understood the appeal of snow. It was wet
and cold. Sure, it was drier than rain – until it melted in your socks. But, looking out my
window on Christmas morning, an uncontrollable smile played across my lips at the two
freshly built snowmen on my front lawn.
My beautiful boyfriend, unaware of my attention, was putting on their finishing
touches – pointy ears for the Arwen snowman and a rugged twig-beard to make Aragorn
look manlier. My favorite part was the way Aragorn's stick-fingers tangled with Arwen's; they
were holding hands. Edward tripped on an extra stick he had lying on the ground (what I
assumed was going to be Aragorn's sword) and face-planted into the snow.
I couldn't suppress my giggle and opened the window to reveal myself, not caring
how frigid the air was. "What do you get if you cross a snowman and a shark?"
Edward looked up and smiled brightly at me, his newly wet hair glistening in the
morning light. "It depends on how bad the joke is. And I happen to know that it's a really
bad joke."
"Oh, yeah? And how would you know that?"
There was a glint of humor in his eyes. "Because it's my joke."
"No it isn't! Charlie told me it last Christmas break when I slipped on a piece of ice
and hurt my wrist. He thought it'd make me laugh."
"That's most likely true," he conceded. "What Chief Swan did not tell you was that I
had told him the same joke a few weeks prior when John Marsden got a citation for
throwing snowballs at the police cruiser."
"Huh." A sudden wave of agitation came over me as I realized how out of the loop I
was when it came to the Edward and my father.
Probably knowing where my mind had wondered, Edward said, "You owe me a
kiss."
"Hardly. I appreciate the effort, but really, Arwen is a bit too stocky in the hips for
me to be impressed," I said, shaking off the bitterness with sarcasm.
He raised his arm above his head, and I bit my lip at the sight of mistletoe. It was
impossible to stay upset when he did cute things like this. The police department debacle
didn't matter, nor the fact I was only wearing pajamas, as I ran down the stairs and out the
front door (only stopping to throw on my snow boots because, really, I wasn't that stupid). I
flew into Edward's waiting arms and all but tackled him, planting a deep, passionate kiss on
his lips. He slipped his cold hands underneath the hem of my shirt and began to trace the
small of my back. I shuddered, not from the cold, but by the feelings this small movement
stirred in the pit of my stomach.

  88  
 Edward tried to pull back, but I couldn't allow that. I leaned forward with him, still
trying to keep our lips together. The movement was too sudden, though, and I felt my feet
fly out from underneath me as he fell backwards into the snow. Edward subsequently
crashed into and destroyed the Aragorn snowman in an effort to keep me from landing in
the snow. I landed on top off him with a manly grunt.
I groaned a little, climbing off him. "I'm so sorry."
"Wait a second," Edward said. I halted my movements. He swept a piece of wild hair
behind my shoulder to see my face better. His eyes swam with affection and I almost had to
look away from the intensity I saw there. Tell me you love me. Tell me you love me. Please, just tell me
you love me. I chanted in my head over and over. He opened his mouth. I was finally going to
hear the words. "Amin mela lle."
I stared at him for one prolonged moment before huffing and rolling off him. I'd
had enough of this. He knew I didn't speak Elven. Goodness knows, I'd tried over the last
year; even taken a trip to Forks Public Library to see if they carried an Elven-English
dictionary. Of course no such thing existed and Edward refused to translate for me. For all I
knew he could be saying I had morning breath (he probably wasn't).
He hadn't moved from the ground. I swept some snow off my pajama bottoms, then
glanced down at him. He was looking at me oddly – as if I had actually hurt his feelings by
being annoyed. "What?" I crossed my arms defensively. He just shook his head and
rearranged his features into a small, tight smile. "Come on. Let's go get warm," I said, putting
my minor irritation aside and grabbing his cold hand.
We passed Charlie at the stairs on the way up to my room. He didn't look surprised
to find Edward in his house at seven AM Christmas morning. He said, "Leave the door
open," and continued to the kitchen. At least there were a few perks to Charlie and Edward's
bizarre relationship.
Edward hadn't been in my bedroom for a while. Mostly we hung out at his house
since there was better equipment to work on MyT-Spot there. Lack of parental prying was
also a benefit. He peeled off his jacket and set it on the rocking chair in the corner. I didn't
miss his smile at the dozens of pictures of us on display. Pictures were framed on my
dresser, pinned up on a corkboard, and taped to my vanity mirror.
"Wow. I'm flattered," he teased.
I liked to look at my boyfriend – who could blame me? "I'm going to run to the
bathroom and change into some dry clothes," I said, grabbing a pair of jeans and my I Love
Orc-Meat t-shirt from the dresser. "Don't touch anything," I added, worried he might
discover my diary (he wouldn't look under my mattress – right?).
"Is it all right if I check movie times? I thought we might catch a showing of The Two
Towers tomorrow," he asked, walking over to the decrepit looking computer.
Thankfully my back was turned to him so he couldn't see the look of annoyance on
my face. One of these days I was going to put my foot down. No way was I sitting through
The Two Towers seventeen times in theater like I had for Fellowship. "Sure," I said, letting it go
and hastily walking to the bathroom. This was Christmas and since I didn't volunteer at the
homeless shelter, going to see LotR with Edward was the closest thing to holiday charity I
would get.
Having not bothered to so much as run a brush through my hair before jumping
Edward outside, I was absolutely horrified at what I found in the bathroom mirror. I was
more convinced that, "Amin mela lle," meant, "Brush your teeth," now than ever before. I
quickly did my morning rituals, not wanting to leave Edward alone in my bedroom for too

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long but also hoping to remind him that I wasn't completely hideous. After I was done, I
took one last look in the mirror, and decided that he'd have to deal with a lot worse if we
ever got married and that he should get used to it now.
I knew there was something massively wrong before I even entered the room. The
energy had completely shifted around Edward. He sat rigid in my desk chair, staring at the
computer screen with heated eyes. At the sound of my footsteps he looked up. Even though
I had no idea what had happened to make him look at me like this, I felt a guilty pang in my
chest.
"So I, uh, guess there aren't any good movie times?" I asked.
His face took on a calculated look. He stood and glanced from me to my computer,
indicating that he wanted me to look at the screen. I paused, not sure I wanted to know what
it was that could make Edward this angry. I took a deep breath and walked to the screen. It
took less than a second for me to realize which webpage he had found, and my heart sank to
the pit of my stomach.
Mugglenet.com. The biggest Harry Potter fansite in the world was opened on my
computer. And Edward had seen it. I was so busted.
"I, uh, I-I can explain that." My cheeks grew red as I searched for any possible
explanation. He looked at me in that this-better-be-good kind of way. "I was actually
researching some possible designs for MyT-Spot," I said. Edward wasn't going to like that
response very much, but it was better than telling him the truth.
Edward quirked an eyebrow just enough to tell me that he didn't believe me. He bent
over the keyboard, pressed a few keys, and then stood back up expectantly.
The-Leaky-Cauldron.org. "Cross-referencing. Thorough research," I said.
Jaw clenched, he once more bent down to type on the keyboard, this time stepping
back and walking to the other side of the room.
DanRadcliffe.com. I am so fucked (mental wrist-slap).
"So tell me, Isabella." I cringed at the use of my entire name. "When were you
planning on informing me that you were going to single-handedly change my entire product
line and start selling Harry Potter t-shirts on my website?"
Anger flared up inside me. "Your website? Are you kidding me? Yeah, maybe it was
your idea, but it's also my website now. I work as hard on it as you do."
Edward kept his hard expression but must have realized he was in lethal territory
because he changed tactics. "Do you make a habit of putting the website of random actors
on your favorites list, or is this something you only recently developed?" He didn't give me
the chance to answer. "I mean, I'd really like to know if you've been looking at other men
during the entire course of our relationship or if you've simply gotten bored with me in the
last few months."
My mouth popped open. "You can't be serious."
"Do you find him attractive?" he asked in an emotionless voice.
"No," I lied automatically.
His eyes blazed, before he turned away and began playing with the tassel from one of
my window curtains. "So you're telling me that if I were dead, you wouldn't consider him
remotely good-looking."
My throat constricted. A deep chill settled in my bones. "If you died, I wouldn't exist
anymore. I can't even think about that." I felt suffocated staring at the back of his head.
"Fine. Pretend that we'd never met. You never came to Forks."

  90  
 It felt as if the air had been knocked out of me. Pretend as if we had never met? My
life began when we met. "What is your–"
"I won't be mad." He turned to look at me. His fingers relentlessly fidgeted with my
curtains. It was his eyes that bothered me the most. He actually believed he wouldn't be
upset if I told him I found another guy attractive, or maybe he didn't think I'd ever say yes.
"Honestly, Bella. I won't be mad."
I was growing more and more agitated with this conversation. Why should I have to
hide this from him? He was open about his whole Arwen fetish with me. And he said he
wouldn't be mad. Sure, Edward was a serial liar, but he couldn't hold this against me. It was
his own fault if he didn't like my answer.
"All right. I don't find Daniel Radcliffe to be completely unfortunate looking."
With Edward's back to me I couldn't see the look on his face, but the silence was so
deep that the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I had just made the biggest mistake of
my life.
I should have lied.
Damnit.

We never did go see The Two Towers on December 26th. As far as I could tell, I might
never have to watch another LotR movie again. I'd expected Edward to be pissed when he
found out about Harry Potter, but not that he'd avoid me for days after. He answered my calls
but barely spoke. He didn't come to see me or invite me over. I was trying to be patient and
let him work through whatever he was feeling, but it was beginning to wear on my nerves.
I missed him to the point of psychological delusions. One time I looked out my
window and saw him lurking in the forest across the street, but when I did a double-take he
was gone. A good fifteen minute self-berating followed for being so ridiculously pitiful as to
imagine my boyfriend stalking me. Or maybe I was desperate for any sign that he missed me
as much as I missed him.
But if space is what he needed to get over this, then I would give that to him. Which
is why I found myself sitting with my father on our living room couch, picking at pizza and
watching the countdown to the ball dropping in Times Square on New Year's Eve. Charlie
had tried to make it special, buying silly cone hats and sparkling silver noisemakers to
celebrate the occasion.
As lame as it was, the glorious image of Charlie in a shiny blue cone hat with a purple
feather rim and a sparkly pink ball topper would stay close to my heart for the rest of my life.
"You and Edward seemed a little tense the other day," he said – his twentieth attempt to
start a conversation.
"Yep," was the answer I gave him – my twentieth attempt to prevent just that from
happening. It was always better when he didn't try to understand my female emotions on a
deeper level. I took a bite of pizza and we both pretended to be interested in Dick Clark's
commentary on the celebrated event.
"Why?"
That was a surprise. Charlie being observant was one thing, but being inquisitive
about my romantic life was another. "What do you mean?" I asked, sure that I had
misunderstood him.
Charlie kept his eyes trained on the TV. "I was just wondering if you and him were
having any problems."

  91  
 My first instinct was to scoff indignantly and tell him to mind his own business. But
then, Charlie was a man. An old man, granted, but he might still remember what it was like
to be young. Maybe he could give me some perspective on how to handle Edward. "I'm not
sure. Maybe. It's confusing."
"So, it's complicated? These things often are," Charlie said.
"Well, yeah. You see, I really like Harry Potter and Edward hates it." Woah. When I
said it out loud it sounded farcically absurd.
"That's it?" His disbelief reflected the farcical absurdity of it all.
"I guess there's the fact that I kind of find the actor in Harry Potter really hot," I said,
after a moment of contemplation.
Charlie nodded and turned back to the TV. "So he's jealous. I can understand that."
My mind briefly flashed back to a moment I'd witnessed when I was a child of my
father seeing my mom and Phil together after the divorce. "So, what should I do?"
"You have to talk about it."
"Oh." His answer was so simple… and not good at all. Talking had gotten me into
this mess.
"But sometimes talking isn't enough. It's important to communicate with each other.
Words mean nothing if he doesn't understand what you're saying," Charlie said.
That was a shockingly wise thing he had said. "But what if he won't listen? He's
hardly talking to me right now."
Charlie gave me an expression of determination I had never seen on his face before,
and as he spoke, I felt as if there was a wisdom behind his words that he could have only
obtained through personal experience. "Then you have to make him, Bella. If you really like
this boy, you will make him understand your feelings for him."
I broke eye contact with Charlie to look down at my hands. It was too intense for
me, realizing that my father wished he had been able to make my mother understand his
feelings for her. I grew suddenly angry at her for leaving him. And in turn, I felt anger
toward Edward for pulling away from me. I wouldn't let this happen – I was going to
demand to know what his problem was and we would work it out. Now.
"Okay, let's go," I said, standing up from the couch.
"Go where? It's eleven-fifteen at night, Bells. I don't think any place is open for
people under the age of twenty-one."
"I don't want to go partying; I need a ride to the Cullens'. I need to talk to Edward
now, before it gets any worse."
Charlie debated whether to let me follow his advice now or make me wait until a
decent hour of the morning. "Are you sure they'll be awake?" he asked after twenty-three
seconds.
I love my father. "Yes, I'm positive," I said, practically squealing over him agreeing to
something so uncharacteristic. I was beginning to like this whole father/daughter bonding
thing.
"All right. Let's do it," he said, standing up.
Twelve minutes later I was ringing the doorbell to the Cullen's residence. I barely
said a quick, "I need to talk to Edward," before zooming past Dr. Cullen (only stopping to
inconspicuously check out how he looked in his pajama pants and a MyT-Spot LotR t-shirt)
and up the stairs. I knocked on Edward's bedroom door, more determined than ever to
demand what his problem was. However, when the door opened to Edward's room he
didn't look like he had a problem.

  92  
 Edward immediately pulled me into his arms. "Bella, you're here. I missed you," he
said into my hair.
I pulled back from his embrace, and tilted my head to the side. My expression
reflected the stem of suspicion I felt at his enthused expression. His mood swings were
giving me whiplash and for a brief moment, I contemplated the prospect that Edward was
actually able to experience PMS. Was that possible for men? I shook the thought away and
refocused on the purpose of my visit. "Yes, well, I think it's important that we talk."
He nodded, his smile faltering a little, and stepped aside to let me into his room. At
the sound of the door closing, I began the speech I'd composed during the car ride over.
"I'm not sure what's going on but I think it's important to talk. Not just talk, but
communicate." Edward was looking at me intently, hanging on my every word. But there
was more than that in his expression. Something expectant, as if he were biding his time,
waiting for something to happen. Though slightly fazed by the oddity, I continued. "So, I
would like to say that it's important to appreciate and respect our different interests. In fact,
we should appreciate that we're–"
I froze as something above Edward's shoulder caught my attention. My eyes
narrowed. Edward Anthony Cullen would die a long, torturous death for what he had done.
The new addition to his room was an outrage – a horror constructed with the sole purpose
to get back at me. And I was pissed.
Right in the middle of the wall next to his door, Edward f-word Cullen had mounted a
new shelf, one that was filled with all the Audrey Hepburn movies he had previously kept
hidden underneath his bed. And there were other things on the shelf – a coffee mug with
her face on it, a large published book with pictures of her, and… was that an Audrey
Hepburn Barbie doll?
The subtle smirk that rested on Edward's lips confirmed what I suspected: that he
had done this intentionally and I was reacting exactly the way he desired. I wanted so much
to ignore the atrocity mounted on his wall – to not give Edward the satisfaction of knowing
he had gotten to me. But my mouth had always seemed disconnected from my brain. "What
the hell is that?"
He turned around to peek at the monstrosity, as if he had no idea what I was talking
about – as if he hadn't put it up there to purposefully drive me crazy. "Oh that? I thought it
was time to do some redecorating."
My mouth opened and closed a few times. "Redecorating," I repeated blandly, trying
to keep the extreme emotion I was feeling in check. The boy standing in front of me, the
one whose eyes were dancing with the high of successful revenge, held no resemblance to
the perfect, sweet boy I had fallen in love with over the past year. I didn't know who this boy
was – he wasn't my Edward, my Swirl.
He opened his mouth and hesitated, seeming to contemplate whether he would say
what he wanted. His gaze hardened. "I guess that you could say that if you were dead I
wouldn't find Audrey Hepburn to be unfortunate looking."
My face stung where Edward's imaginary hand had slapped it. Sadness, hurt,
disappointment, heartbreak. But mostly I felt anger. A rage so volatile flooded my body that
I felt my cheeks redden deeply and my heart pound furiously. "Oh, yeah? Well, it might help
if she wasn't dead either." I turned on my heel and took a step toward the door.
He grabbed my wrist to stop me from leaving. I turned back to yell for him let me
go, but when I did he had changed again. He was my Edward now, his eyes pleading instead

  93  
of vengeful and his face contorted in remorse. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that," he
said urgently.
I averted my eyes and bit my tongue to keep myself from giving him my verbal
forgiveness. There was something about the sincerely pitiful expression that he always got on
his face when he had done something wrong that made me feel obligated to release him
from his guilt. "I can't continue to do this," I muttered to myself.
"Bella, please." The two words were simple but the emotion behind his plea was raw.
I knew exactly what he was asking me; I knew he couldn't be parted with me any more than
I could be parted with him. We stood there, both immersed in our thoughts until startled by
the sound of Edward's watch. He released my wrist to silence the alarm.
"It's midnight," he said. Midnight. A new year. A new start.
We looked at each other, not in anger, but rather how we used to when we first met.
For a brief moment I was transported to a Yearbook class at Forks Middle School where a
girl had met a boy. To a time when everything was simple and that girl knew that she had
just found the boy she was going to spend the rest of her life with.
We stared at each other for a few moments, I'm sure my own eyes reflected the same bewilderment as
his. I would say that I fell in love with him in those brief seconds. But adults were adamant that young people
couldn't fall in love – I didn't know if I believed them.
A small smile flitted across my lips as I recalled that particular thought. Adults were
so stupid. The love I had felt then was the purest I could remember – so new and fresh,
without any trials or teenage angst to complicate it. I had fallen in love. I remembered
Edward as the shy boy who hardly ever spoke, choosing instead to communicate with me
through instant messages and subtle glances. He had changed so much since then, opened
up to me in ways he had never done with anyone else.
Edward gripped my hand and I knew that boy was still there. We would find a way to
make this work.
And at this new determination, a hunger came over me that I had never felt so
strongly – a hunger to have his lips on mine and to taste what I was now fighting to
preserve. The kiss began much the same as usual but then something changed. Suddenly his
lips became more urgent, his free hand twisting in my hair and holding my face securely to
his.
There was nothing to think about – only his lips and my body's reaction to them. As
usual, my heart thudded wildly. Then something unknown tightened in the pit of my
stomach. When our lips finally unlatched, we didn't pull away; his forehead rested on mine.
My eyes closed to savor the feeling of his quick breaths softly brushing my cheeks,
almost as if we were one – as if his breaths were mine. I drank it in. This is what I was
fighting for.
I only had one request. "Just… can you please just take down the Barbie doll?"
He pulled away, a small frown creasing his face. "That is not a Barbie. It's a rare
collector's item."
"Oh, please. The movies I can deal with, but my boyfriend cannot have more dolls
than I do. It goes against nature."
He sighed. "I guess that's a fair point." And with that, we reached our understanding.

School resumed a week later, and with it returned the misery of Musical Theater and
the promise of auditions for the casting of Cinderella.

  94  
 Alice f-word Brandon seemed more determined than ever to win the lead role. At
first, I figured she just wanted to be the center of attention as always. However, I soon
discovered that Mr. Harding's seventh period Wood Shop class would be building all the sets
for the production. It so happened that a certain Jasper Whitlock was in that class. The
stakes were higher because of it, and Alice would be fighting tooth and nail for the chance to
show off for Jasper, and in turn, win his affection (which I assumed was her plan). I would
have been more than happy to step aside and let her have the damn role if it didn't mean
she'd be dancing with, touching, and kissing my boyfriend.
In order to prepare for our auditions and the play, Mrs. McCrae made us watch
Roger and Hammerstein's Cinderella. It wasn't as horrible as I had originally thought, and as I
watched Cinderella float down the giant staircase to the prince, I imagined the look on
Edward's face if I were wearing a beautiful ballroom dress and walking towards him. The
prince sang to her:

"Ten minutes ago I saw you

I looked up when you walked through the door.
My head started reeling,
You gave me the feeling
The room had no ceiling or floor."

Edward leaned over in the darkness of the unlit classroom and whispered in my ear,
"That's how I felt when I first met you."
I recalled our first meeting again, as I so often did these days. "Me too."
"You asked me if I was gay," he stated dryly.
"Complains the boy who keeps an Audrey Hepburn Barbie doll under his bed."
Edward's face tightened. "I repeat, it is not a Barbie. It is a–"
"Rare collector's item," I finished for him with a wide grin. This playful banter had
become the easiest way to cope with what I now affectionately referred to as "Edward's
Slutty Shrine of Horror." Deep down, I was still slightly hurt and severely jealous that he had
something of another woman up in his room. But at least she was dead. And it was much
better than Arwen.
Without outright saying it, I was showing him that if he could be respectful of my
interest in Harry Potter, then I could respect his other… hobbies.
Angela was very encouraging of this tactic, repeatedly telling me that she was proud
of me for being an individual. "Relationships aren't about being the same. They're about
having different interests and being able to complement each other at the same time," she
said one day while sitting at my kitchen table. "As a matter of fact, you should take this
further. Try to get him involved in your interests."
"Uh, I'm not sure about that," I said, chopping up an onion to put in the taco salad I
was preparing for dinner.
Angela crinkled her nose as she watched me. "Ew. Who puts onions in taco salad?"
"I do and it's delicious."
"Nope. Onions are good in a lot of things, like potato salad, but are a big no-no in
taco salad."
"Relationships aren't about being the same," I mocked in a horribly high-pitched imitation
of Angela's voice.

  95  
 "Touché," she said. "And because I love you I will try your wretched taco salad. You
should make Edward do the same."
"Fine, I'll bring him some for lunch tomorrow," I said, avoiding the entire point of
her sentence.
"You know what I mean. Think about it."
I did think about it. As a matter of fact, I thought about it very hard for the next few
weeks. I hadn't brought up anything Harry Potter related to Edward since our argument on
Christmas Day, choosing instead to indulge my new obsession with Angela. Her choice of
poison was Draco Malfoy.
It was the beginning of February when I decided it was time to ease Edward into my
love for Harry Potter. I started slowly by putting a small HP poster in my locker before
school. I was all nerves during our first passing period, knowing that Edward would see it
for the first time.
He was chatting happily about something that I wasn't paying attention to (because
of the nerves) and abruptly stopped when I opened the locker door. Not wanting to know
whether he looked pissed or hurt, I gave him a chance to rearrange his features into a passive
expression. He hardly spoke to me for the rest of the day, but I convinced myself he needed
time before he could give me the same courtesy of respecting my interest as I provided him.
Edward seemed to recover without permanent damage, so on the sixth of February,
three days later, I decided to take "Project Team HP" to the next level. I could have planned
it better because instead of being a nervous wreck over the Cinderella audition that was later
today, I was a nervous wreck over asking Edward if he wanted to watch Harry Potter and the
Sorcerer's Stone with me after school tomorrow.
I was going to do it during lunch since I'd have Angela there for moral support. She
kept nodding at me encouragingly whenever I got close to the topic and finally resorted to
kicking me in the shin when we only had three minutes before lunch was over.
"So, Edward," I said, trying to sound composed.
"Hmm?" He took a bite of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I'd never understand
how anyone could layer creamy peanut butter on a sandwich like Edward did. It was
horrible. In my opinion, crunchy was the only way to go.
Another kick in the shin from Angela and I blurted out,
"WouldyouliketowatchHarryPotterwithmetomorrow?"
Edward stopped chewing immediately, then swallowed thickly. He picked up his
Coke and took a long swig from it. I don't know how, but he'd picked out the keywords in
my jumbled sentence. I exchanged a nervous look with Angela as he finally put the Coke
down. He pursed his lips, deeply contemplating my request. After what felt like a long time,
he gave a short nod of his head, muttered a, "sure," stood up, dumped his trash, and walked
out of the cafeteria.
I sat there stunned for a few moments.
"Well, it could have gone worse," Angela said.
"How?"
"He could have said no." As if that fact alone was supposed to comfort me.
I entered the Musical Theater class in trepidation that afternoon, timidly taking my
seat next to Edward. My mind should have been on the audition I would be doing in just a
few minutes, but I couldn't stop thinking about what was going to happen tomorrow.
Who knew? Maybe Edward would end up liking Harry Potter.

  96  
 Yeah, right. Edward didn't make it through two minutes of The Sorcerer's Stone
without commenting on how Dumbledore was clearly a less polished knock off of Gandalf.
It only went downhill from there. He'd comment on stupid things; apparently HP copied
LotR in that the trolls were too similar, the forests too alike, and Fred and George Weasley
acted too much like Merry and Pippin.
He wasn't even trying to try and it was bugging the hell out of me. At one point, he
had the nerve to reach over and grasp my hand. I yanked it back and crossed my arms,
sitting stiffly like that for the duration of the movie (in which he managed to find at least
fifteen more miniscule similarities between HP and LotR).
After it was over, he sat there arrogantly tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch,
as if he'd been proven right about all of his preconceived assumptions.
I finally snapped. "Just say it."
He gave me a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. I honestly don't get it."
"You didn't even try to get it. You were too busy pointing out everything you
thought was wrong with the movie."
"That is not true." Yes, it was. "I don't understand what you see in this Harry Potter
guy. He's a scrawny kid who gets lucky a lot."
"Dan is not scrawny!"
Edward's head jerked back. "Oh, so you're on a first name basis with Mr. Radcliffe
now. How sweet."
At that point, I was ready to smack the you-know-what out of him. He was being
such a jerk! I tried for him. Why couldn't he try for me? I threw a pillow at him, slammed the
movie room door behind me, and stomped up the stairs to his bedroom to work on MyT-
Spot stuff.
But when I opened the door…
Her.
It was her on his wall.
Life-sized. Framed. Right over his bed.
The one woman I could never compete with. The one woman I could never live up
to. Arwen fucking Undómiel.
My heart cracked in two, as a tear slid down my cheek. I approached the poster, the
knowledge weighing in on me that this stupid fictional bitch was closer to Edward's bed than
I had ever been. The asshole in question walked into the room a few moments later.
I wiped the tear from my cheek and whipped around to face him. "You know what I
don't understand? You're stupid obsession with Lord of the Rings. I mean, really, they're poorly
written books with un-fascinating story lines and boring characters."
His hand flew to his chest, appalled. "Lord of the Rings happens to be the best piece of
literature ever written. Tolkien is a genius. Not only did he create amazing characters, but he
gave them all different languages, lineages, histo–"
"It's called not being able to edit yourself. Seriously, what kind of nerd," I spat the
word, "finds all that crap interesting? I practically fell asleep when he was going into every
inch of detail about the stupid forest. 'There were trees and the trees had leaves and bark and
they sang and spoke to each other and all was merry.'"
"Oh, so you're calling me a nerd because I find that interesting?"
"Maybe I am." I was not backing down from this one.

  97  
 His face hardened. "Well I'd rather be a nerd, than an ignorant reader who can't
recognize good literature when it's right in front of them."
"So you're calling me ignorant?"
"Maybe I am," he repeated.
I hastily dug into my backpack and pulled out the copy of The Fellowship of the Ring I'd
been carrying around for ages. "You're saying that I'm the one who is ignorant, and yet I at
least tried to read that piece of rubbish to understand why you loved it so much." I chucked
the book so it landed at his feet. "I went and saw that damn movie seventeen times in
theaters. Just to humor you, I did it. For goodness sakes, those movies are tiresome, boring
and dull. I tried, unlike you who forms moronic opinions about something because it's
competition with the thing you like. I would say that you are the ignorant person."
"And how do you think that makes me feel?" Edward asked. "To hear that you don't
like Lord of the Rings now? You are always going on about what I liar I am, and yet you've
been lying since our first date!"
"Oh, right, that really compares to not telling me about working with my father for
over a year," I shot back. "And I did it for you! How do you think it makes me feel that I
have to dress up in a shitty Arwen dress in order for you to think I'm attractive?"
"What do you mean? I think you are beautiful no matter what you're wearing."
"Really?" I asked with raised eyebrows. I uncrossed my arms and walked over to his
computer desk. Opening the drawer, I found his sketchbook and flipped the cover so he
could see the pages. "Let's see. Hmmm… here's Bella as Arwen, and another, and another.
Ah, and here's a wonderful rendition of my profile with superb detailing on my pointy ears."
I continued to flip pages. "An entire book of you wishing I was someone else, but no, you
like me just as I am."
He didn't seem to have a defense ready and that enraged me even more. "You aren't
even going to try and argue it, are you?"
"What do you want me to say?" He shrugged. "Sure I have my… fantasies, but who
doesn't? As I've told you repeatedly, I think you are beautiful. You're making a bigger deal
out of this than you need to."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, well how would you feel if I asked you to dress up like Harry Potter? Maybe
that's a fantasy of mine." The image of Edward in an HP costume, complete with wand and
broomstick was kind of hilarious.
He looked at me in horror. "You wouldn't."
"Maybe I would."
"No, you wouldn't."
"Yes, I would."
"No, you wouldn't," he said adamantly.
"Well, at this rate I'm not really thinking you're going to get that opportunity."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm just thinking that maybe I don't want to be with someone who wouldn't dress
up for me and has horrible taste in books." The heat of the moment caught up with me
then, but the words were already out and Edward was already responding.
"Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who thinks that a commercially-
driven book series is better than a masterpiece."

  98  
 My nose flared. "Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who rereads a
tedious, stupid book series four times a year and is afraid to expand to anything else that isn't
on the English reading list, and then decides to dress up as a hobbit for the midnight
showing."
"You know that was my mom's decision," he said in a dramatic whisper.
"Who cares, Frodo?"
"Take that back."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No," I said, happy that the fight seemed to be going my way now. "And maybe, I
don't want to be with someone who can't accept that I am an individual. That I have
opinions of my own and interests that don't match up with his. And maybe I don't want to
be with someone who spouts out Elvish all the time without the decency of trying to
translate." And is incapable of saying I love you, I added in my mind.
"Fine!" he shouted back. "Maybe I don't want to be with someone who doesn't take
the time to try and figure out what I'm saying to her."
"Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who doesn't take the time to try and
understand my interests."
"Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who lies about her interests for over a
year."
"Fine. Maybe I don't want to be with someone who has a secret relationship with my
father for over a year."
"Fine," he said with finality.
"Fine," I yelled so I could have the last word. With that, I slammed the computer
desk drawer shut, grabbed my backpack and walked to the door, shoving his wretched
sketchbook in his arms as I passed him. I stopped in the doorway. "By the way, Liv Tyler
looks fat in that poster." And I was gone.

My grand exit was slightly ruined by the fact that I had to ask Dr. Cullen for a ride
home. Now that I was a single woman, however, I felt as if I could ogle him without guilt, so
I took advantage of that from the passenger seat. Admittedly, most of this was to spite
Edward and not actually about admiring his father's profile, but I still tried to enjoy it.
It didn't work. Now when I looked at him all I saw were bits of Edward.
As soon as I arrived home, I ran up into my bedroom and started tearing down every
photo of Edward from my walls, my dresser, and my vanity mirror. Grabbing a box full of
matches on the way, I flew down to the kitchen and threw the photos into the empty sink. I
struck a match and held the flame above the pictures.
It wasn't until I caught a glimpse of Edward and I dancing that it hit me what had
happened. We had broken up. A tear spilled down my cheek. And after the first I felt a
second. And then a third.
The match extinguished itself, and I slid down the cabinets to the kitchen floor. I
sobbed then. I sobbed for hours. I sobbed until Charlie came home to find me a disheveled
mess on the floor, the unburnt pictures of Edward and I still in the kitchen sink.

  99  
 He didn't say anything, just lifted me up from the floor and carried me to my bed.
He placed me down carefully and kissed my forehead, mumbling something I couldn't bring
myself to understand. I laid there for an infinite amount of time. It all seemed meaningless
now. Charlie brought me a bowl of soup and a bottle of water that I ignored. When I felt the
darkness of night fall over the room, I finally sat up.
I grabbed my diary and wrote the only thing I felt.

February 7, 2003

Love, life, meaning… over.

  100  
 Chapter 15: The First Time She Told Him She Loved Him

The cliff beneath my feet was cold and sharp. I closed my eyes and imagined the feel
of his hand in mine, his breath on my face, the sound of his voice.
At first it feels like time stops when you have nothing to live for. When the person
you've given your heart to is ripped mercilessly from your life. Slowly it comes back to you –
time hasn't stopped but it is different. There is no more seconds, minutes, hours, days.
But rather seconds without him.
Minutes without him.
Hours without him.
Days without him.
I'd always been told time heals all wounds. That was a lie.
At first, I could get through the days because there was still a small flame of hope
nestled in the deepest part of my heart. There was still a chance of reconciliation – a chance
that he cared for me. But by the end of the fifth day without him, that flame had been
extinguished.
I looked over the edge of the cliff. The ocean was one of the few reprieves in this
world that held nothing of him – no memories or significance because we had never come
here together. It seemed appropriate that I would perish into the depths of this abyss.
I closed my eyes and whispered, "I love you, Edward," into the wind. A small smile
played on my lips as his remembered face appeared before my eyes.
And with that, I let myself fall.
Figuratively speaking, of course, because I'd never actually be stupid enough to jump
off a cliff.

Day One Without Him

It could almost be a nightmare – the reality that I could no longer kiss him, hug him,
touch him hadn't yet set in. The only thing that made it real was the pain. Even in my most
terrifying dreams I had never felt a pain this deep – this excruciating. I couldn't move. I
could barely breathe. And yet the tears would not stop.

Day Two Without Him

Two nights without sleep had begun to take its toll. Charlie was talking to me, but I
was only capable of focusing on his hands and how they were wrong.
His hands had been smooth and soft. His fingers were long enough that when they
fully encased my hand, all I could feel was warmth. A warmth I would never feel again.
"…understand what you're feeling right now. Trust me, I've felt it myself. But the
best way to feel better is to continue with your life. Continue with your routine – you can't
let yourself dwell on the misery. It's no good for you," Charlie said. People had always told
me I'd inherited his eyes, but looking into them now, I knew that had never been truer.

  101  
When I finally worked up the energy to look in the mirror, I would find the same dullness
reflected back at me that had been in his eyes for the past ten years.
The tears stopped and numbness settled over my heart. I didn't fight it. I allowed my
body to absorb the cold apathy. It was the only way I could keep myself together – my own
internal shield. My father had survived his heartbreak and I would survive mine.
I tried to fit back into my routine, just like Charlie had said. I didn't attempt anything
too hard (like changing out of my pajamas), but I did go downstairs to watch baseball with
him. When he brought out a tray of snacks for us, the shield I had crafted faced its first test
and easily shattered.
A green apple sat on the tray.
To Charlie, the apple was a harmless fruit, but to me it was the color of his eyes. I
missed his eyes, like I missed his hands. Nothing could match the depth I always found
there, as if it were a direct connection to his soul.
My lip quivered. Charlie looked worried, so I bolted up the stairs before he could say
anything, muttering a quick, "I'll be in my room," as I went. I collapsed on my bed and tried
to think of something else, anything else.
Charlie came up a few minutes later with a bottle of water and half a sleeping pill.
"Everything's going to be all right, Bells," was the last thing I heard. He pulled the covers
over me and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Day Three Without Him

The bright light filtering through my window curtains told me I had slept well into
the afternoon. I didn't care. The only thing I could think about was how he had touched
those curtains. With his hands.
I missed his hands.
"What do you mean you miss his hands?" Huh. I had vocalized my yearning aloud.
Had my father been standing there when I'd spent a half hour remembering the perfection
of his clavicle? A clavicle was important – it was the foundation of the neck.
His neck. His neck was one of my favorite things about him. Not too long, not too
short. It was strong. My mother used to say you could tell the worth of a man by the
strength of his–
"Bella?" Charlie was going to jump into PFM (Protective Father Mode) if I didn't
explain and quickly. But how could I explain the utter devastation of my heart?
"He touched my curtains."
Charlie looked at me in that odd way before rolling his eyes and leaving the room.
Ten minutes later, Angela appeared. "You weren't at school today and I was worried. Then
your dad called."
"I'm sorry." Was it already Monday?
"Do – do you want to talk about it?"
I shook my head. No, I couldn't. To voice it out loud would be to admit that it was
true, and I couldn't give up that small flicker of hope burning in my heart. It might have
been foolish, but some part of me still believed I could fix this. I could fix us. She nodded
her understanding and nudged me over. She was an amazing friend – I hadn't taken a
shower in three days.

  102  
 We lay there in quiet for a long time, staring up at the ceiling while I gathered the
courage to voice the question on my mind. "How did he look?"
Angela didn't answer immediately and her hesitance put me on edge. I wanted him to
be hurting as badly as I was. The thought that he could be happy without me was too painful
to contemplate – even more painful than the thought that he was suffering the same kind of
misery I was. "He actually wasn't at school," she said.
My mind turned over all possible scenarios for his absence. Was he suffering or did
he just want to avoid me? I had known, logically, that I couldn't pick up the phone and call
to ask, but the realization didn't hit me until right then. My entire body shook and I felt a
small fissure slash through my chest.
Angela let me cry on her lap and promised she would stay as long as needed. This
was completely impossible, of course, because we were only fourteen years old, and Angela
couldn't convince her mother to let her break the no-sleepovers-on-school-nights rule. I was
all right as she walked out the door. I had survived leaving him; I could survive Angela
leaving me.
I stood against the doorway, even long after she had gone. "I'll see you tomorrow,"
she had said.
Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but it was only a matter of time before Charlie
made me go back to school. I decided that I would see her tomorrow, on my own terms. At
least this way I could prepare myself for facing reality – a reality that did not include a future
for Edward and me.

Day Four Without Him

"Where's Edward at?" Alice asked loudly. We were walking down the hallway from
the Musical Theater classroom to the school auditorium. "I'd think that such an attentive
boyfriend would be here to take care of his sick girlfriend." Alice paused. "You are sick,
aren't you? That's why you look so horrible, right?"
I heard the words but allowed the numbness to absorb the underhanded insult. I
wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a response.
"Look, I get why you'd resent me," she continued, "but I'm sure you have nothing to
worry about when I get the role of Cinderella. If Edward really loves you then it won't mean
anything when he kisses me."
My eyes involuntarily sought out the only person who could reassure me that, even if
he had to kiss her, it would mean nothing.
"Of course, Edward is a good actor. I'm sure he'll want to make it realistic." Empty.
"I just don't want you to mistake good acting for the actual thing." The halls were empty.
"He'll probably pretend it's you." The school was empty. "But then again, maybe not. I heard
a rumor he dumped you." Empty of him. "And was worried you'd stalk him, which is why
he hasn't shown up to school."
"You know what's sad, Alice?" I was surprised by the sound of my voice. "What's
sad is that you've been trying for months to get Jasper's attention and you're not even a blip
on his radar. I highly doubt a tiara and a pair of glass slippers are going to change that."
She grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop in the middle of the hallway. "You don't
know what you're talking about."

  103  
 "Sure I do, Frosh." A small, victorious smile crept on my lips at her blush. "And you
haven't got the role yet," I reminded her.
"Well, with you looking like this, I don't think it's going to be very hard." She spun to
catch up with Jessica.
She wasn't wrong. If I didn't step up my game I would be screwed when Mrs.
McCrae announced the cast on Friday. Part of me wondered if there was a point to trying
anymore. After all, I had lost the prince and had no glass slipper to find my way back to him.
But then again, maybe if I was lucky, I could borrow Cinderella's.

Day Five Without Him

He was here.
Small sparks of electricity generated from where I felt him behind me. Goosebumps
rose on my arms; my breathing shook and sped; the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. I
turned around to face him for the first time since Friday, only to be greeted with the sight of
his bronze hair retreating into the crowded cafeteria. The air rushed out of me, like I'd been
kicked in the stomach but was too shocked to feel the pain.
"Are you okay? We have to pay now," Angela said, bringing my attention back to the
fundraising table we were standing at. We paid and each received a root beer float from an
incredibly happy cheerleader.
When Angela took a step toward the cafeteria, I hesitated. He was in there, and he
obviously didn't want to see me. "Um, why don't you go ahead? Cynthia's probably
wondering where we are, and I need my Algebra notes from my locker." Like the bestest
best friend she was, Angela let my fib slide. I took off, root beer float in hand, to the
deserted hallway where my locker was located, which was as good a location as any for a
meltdown.
He had seen me and walked away. What had I expected? For him to suddenly decide
he couldn't live without me? For me to run into his arms; for us both to mutter apologies
and vows of love and devotion as we embraced? Yes, exactly. Then there was the prospect
of cordial conversation and pseudo friendship. Could I handle only being his friend? Could I
watch him kissing someone who wasn't me, touching her like he used to touch me?
Another piece of my heart broke away – my heart which housed the flame of hope.
If it broke too far, the flame would die. I would die. I cradled my arms around my chest, as if
to keep all of me intact, and leaned against the locker to release the pressure off my jelly legs.
"Are you all right?" I jumped. Mike Newton had crept up on me. "You look a little
green. Maybe I should take you to the nurse?"
"No, really, I'm fine. Just lightheaded."
"Okay," he said, "but you should sit down. We still have ten minutes before class
starts." The grooves of the locker jostled my back as I slid down to the ground. Mike joined
me a few feet away. "And maybe you should drink some of that," he said, nodding towards
my root beer float.
I sipped it and debated asking him to leave. I didn't like him very much after the – I
avoided thinking the word "fight" because that would inevitably lead to memories of him
being bruised and bloody and hot as hell. Eh. At least Mike's presence would help me focus
on… other things.
"So, what're you doing for Spring Break next month?" he asked.

  104  
 "I don't know," I said, barely able to think about the next few hours without having a
meltdown. Next month was… would it get better by then? A small part of me hoped it
wouldn't; I wanted to suffer because the pain was the only thing I had to remind me it had
existed.
"Yeah, mine is going to be pretty lame, too. I'll mostly be working at my parent's
store. Have you heard of Newton's Outfitters? Well, my parents are shorthanded and
looking for help so I'm stuck there. It's a store for…"
As Mike prattled on about his stupid store, my mind went to another store entirely. I
had completely forgotten about MyT-Spot. It was my job, my livelihood, my ticket to
college. So much time and energy had gone into its success, I couldn't stand by and let it fail
miserably because of all this. How would we work that out? Would we draw up a contract,
like a divorce settlement?
"Bella? Did you hear me? It's time to go to class." Without thinking, I reached up
and grabbed Mike's offered hand. Not a good idea. It felt so wrong holding another boy's
hand. There was no sparks, no electricity. I let go and stood on my own.
A pair of apple-green eyes penetrated mine as soon as I was upright. As if caught in
Medusa's stare, I froze. It was amazing how seeing him, Edward, in person changed my
feelings so completely. Suddenly, and perhaps irrationally, I did want him in my life, any way
I could have him. "Hi," was my brilliant opener designed to convey that.
"Hello," he said. "How-how are you?" His voice was raspy instead of the velvet I had
become accustomed to, but it was still distinctly his and it felt like home to hear.
"Okay. How're you?"
He shrugged and silence fell over us. He didn't make a move to leave and neither did
I. Instead, I took the opportunity to size him up, and he seemed do the same. Who was
suffering more? He looked like shit (thank God), but more than me? I didn't think so. He
had the bags under his eyes, the sunken-in cheeks, the crumpled clothing, etcetera. But his
hair looked great. That wasn't his fault; he'd have to shave it off to ruin it. Still, my frizzy
mess of a ponytail took the prize.
"So," I said, mostly because I wanted to hear his voice again, "I was wondering about
MyT-Spot and–" A loud sputtering noise cut me off. I'd clean forgotten Mike, who was now
gawking at me with drips of root beer float down his shirt. I crinkled my nose in disgust.
"Anyway, I was wondering what was going to happen to it now that we aren't…" Judging by
the look on Edward's face, he was glad I couldn't say the word. "You're more than efficient
at taking care of MyT-Spot's needs on a day to day basis, but sometimes it's a two person job
and – Seriously, what's the issue, Mike?" It sounded like he was choking on something.
He glanced between me and Edward, who was glaring back murderously. "Well,
Bella, I'd be more than happy to help you with your G-Spo–"
"That's enough," Edward growled.
Edward may not like him, but that was no reason to be so rude. "Thanks. I
appreciate your offer," I said to Mike, trying to diffuse the situation, "But I'm sorry, MyT-
Spot is a sensitive project between me and Edward, and occasionally his grandma."
"Bella, please… stop." Did Edward just tell me to shut up?
"Excuse me?"
He quickly backtracked. "I mean, you shouldn't apologize to this miscreant. As a
matter of fact, it probably would be best if you stayed away from him altogether."
Beyond infuriated at his condescending tone, I said, "What business is it of yours
who I decide to talk to? Last time I checked, you weren't a part of my life anymore."

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 Something akin to raw pain flashed across Edward's face. "You're right. I shouldn't
care." His features hardened. "But I'm not going to stand by and let this… pervert turn you
into some sort of scarlet women."
Mike tried to intervene. I spoke louder. "You know what? Unlike you, at least Mike's
trying to be nice to me. It's not your job to protect me; I can take care of myself."
Edward scoffed. "Clearly not. You're too naive to even realize when some asshole is
making a pass at you." My anger was beginning to manifest physically – I was now gripping
the red cup so tightly that tiny drops of root beer were spilling over. In the background, I
heard the final bell for class ring and Mike run off after it. "Do me a favor. Call your mother
and ask her what T-Spot rhymes with. Have a nice long chat. You need it." Edward threw
his backpack over his shoulder and turned his back to me.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" I asked.
He took a step away without a response. That was my breaking point – being
ignored in this state of rage was not good for my mental well being. I didn't think about
what I was about to do, just clutched the root beer float tighter and dumped its contents
over Edward's head.
He stood motionless, rooted to the spot. Maybe a small giggle escaped my lips as bits
of melted ice cream dripped down the side of his face. Slowly, he circled around to face me.
Edward didn't look as amused as I was.
As a matter of fact, he didn't seem to think it was funny at all. His deathly-serious
expression made me laugh even harder. "Oops. Must have slipped." The bastard had broken
my heart – I deserved a laugh at his expense.
"I don't think so, Ms. Swan." An alarmed jolt zapped through me, melting my smirk.
Edward's gaze flickered past me towards the deep, male voice.
"How bad is it?" I whispered.
"The worst. Principal Benson," he answered.
So much for justifiable revenge.

Ms. Cope had procured a dish towel from the teacher's lounge to help Edward dry
off, and I may have possibly checked him out as he did so. Broken up or not, he was still fine.
Now we were seated next to each other outside the principal's office. The posture in which
Edward sat was identical to mine – arms crossed with his body turned away.
Charlie and Dr. Cullen had been called into the office and we waited in stubborn
silence for them to emerge. And we waited. And we waited some more.
"Damnit, what is taking so long?" Edward asked after we hit the one hour mark.
"Probably discussing the specifics of paper airplane making," I said, keeping my eyes
trained on the exit sign above the hallway door. "I hear Dr. Cullen is quite the skilled
craftsman."
He groaned. "Look. I get it – I lied. But so did you."
"I believe we covered that during our… argument." I still couldn't admit our break-
up aloud.
Edward didn't respond and we fell back into silence. My eyes fluttering closed. His
steady breathing was all I could hear, so I measured my breaths to match. His perfect scent
permeated the air, slightly hidden by the sweetness of vanilla ice cream and root beer. In my
haze, I could feel his heart beating beneath my palm.

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 "So what's the deal? Are you hanging with Newton now or something?" he asked,
startling me from my reverie. I balled my hand into a fist.
"Why would you ask that?"
"The two of you looked… cozy."
My head rolled back to thud against the wall. "Cozy?" I repeated in disbelief.
Another moment passed before he replied, saying, "Honestly, I thought you'd wait a
little longer before…" He left his sentence open, but the implication was clear.
A pang of anger revived itself. I turned to him, astonished that he had the nerve to
say our relationship was meaningless to me when I was hurting so deeply. "Guess what? It's
none of your business even if Mike and I were 'cozy.' You gave up the right to dictate
anything in my life last Friday when you broke up with me."
"I did not break up with you! You broke up with me!"
"No, you broke up with me!"
"No, I didn't!"
"Yes, you did!"
"No, I didn't!"
"Yes, you did!" I said. "You're just too blind to see what's right in front of your
face."
"I'll have you know that my eyesight is twenty-twenty with correction!" he yelled
back.
I was about to tell him to go to hell, but stopped when my eye caught a glimpse of
something familiar and beautiful. Originally hidden behind the fabric of Edward's shirt, one
of the buttons on his polo had come undone and now revealed my Evenstar.
Edward noticed my distraction and looked down. "You probably want this back," he
murmured, unclasping the chain from around his neck and holding it out to me. This action
hurt almost as much as the break-up itself, tangible proof that this was the end of us.
I shook my head, knowing that I was on the edge of losing it. "No, it was a gift."
And it would break me even more.
"Bella, please." The sound of my name was another fatal crack in my heart. It wasn't
my name itself, but the way he said it. His voice was gentle with a slight tinge of
vulnerability. His eyes were as soft as his voice. "It wouldn't be fair to who-whomever," he
choked on the word, "whomever it is that you end up with for me to keep this part of you."
My eyes fell to my Evenstar in his hand. It was difficult to breath. He had referenced
a future where the two of us did not exist. He had told me I would end up with someone
else. The cracks in my heart let in a gust of despair that violently swept my hopeful flame
from existence. He had ended us.
Charlie and Dr. Cullen walked out of the principal's office. "We good to go?" I
asked, wasting no time in waiting for his answer while I gathered my things. He looked at me
and Edward with a peculiar expression but nodded in consent, before shaking the principal's
hand.
I hoisted my backpack over my shoulder, then reached out to collect the necklace
from Edward's palm. For the briefest of moments, our skin brushed and I felt that familiar
shock of electricity. Both Edward and I let out a shuddering breath.
"Bye," I said. He didn't respond. I willed my legs to move forward, but there was still
one thing I had to say. "What I meant when I gave this to you can't be returned. No amount
of time will ever change that." I pushed the office door open and walked out of his life.

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 If this was my last goodbye, he needed to know that I had not given up on him, as
he had given up on me.

A routine. Charlie had mentioned it, and he was a person who would know about
broken hearts. I didn't want to live in a reality where Edward didn't want me, but if I was
going to be stuck in this God-forsaken world, I'd have to figure it out. I started
brainstorming some ideas for hobbies I could take up – maybe paper airplane making wasn't
such a bad idea…
"I need to ask you something," Charlie said. I looked away from the passing scenery
to my father. "Are you, uh," he paused, plainly uncomfortable.
He could be so dramatic sometimes. "Just spit it out."
"Bella, are you menstruating?"
"OH MY GOD!" My face flooded with mortification. "Is that any of your business?"
"Now, I don't like talking about this anymore than you do–"
"I doubt that."
"–but I'm trying to understand what possessed you to dump a root beer float on
Edward's head."
"So you're blaming my period?"
"As your father, it's my duty to–"
"I bet you wish you had a son instead of me," I said, somewhat hysterical. "Someone
you could watch baseball with and take fishing and not have to worry about the delicate
nature of the female psyche with."
Charlie chuckled, and fury overshadowed my embarrassment. Did he think this was
funny? "I already have one of those and he's every bit as dramatic as you are."
"So what? You have some sort of illegitimate child or something?"
"No, stupid. I'm talking about Edward."
"What are you saying?"
"It's just that, I'm fond of the kid." A twinge of pain shot through me at the thought
of how close Charlie had gotten to Edward. I was jealous of my father – of the fact that he'd
get to still have a relationship with Edward while I was stuck on the sidelines. "You know,
it'd be nice if you and Edward could work out whatever this thing is between the two of you.
It would make life a lot easier on me and Dr. Cullen."
I looked out the window. "It doesn't work like that."
He reached one hand over and clumsily patted me on the back. "I know, Bells, but
the two of you will figure it out." There was a brief pause before he added, "But seriously, if
we need to get you anything to help regulate your mood-swings or your cycle–"
"Stop!" I shouted.
"Now, Dr. Cullen isn't the only–"
"No, I mean STOP. Pull over!"
"Pull over where, Bella? I'm not letting you walk home just 'cause you're uncomfo–"
"Right here, into the Newton's Outfitters' parking lot."
My father looked at me in bewilderment but did as I demanded anyway. "What the
hell are you going on about?"
"I need a job," I said, unstrapping my seat belt. "Something to keep my mind off
Edward – a routine." He looked surprised and uncertain, but I didn't stick around for a

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lecture. I ran into the store and was greeted by a nice, round-faced woman who could only
be Mike's mother. "Are you Mrs. Newton?"
"Why, yes I am. How can I help you?"
I tried to sound as cheerful as her. "Mike mentioned you were looking for help over
Spring Break and I was wondering if I could apply?"
"Sure you can." She walked to the other side of the counter. "Let me get you the
application."
"Do you mind if I fill it out here?" I needed to get it done before I chickened out.
"Sure thing." She pulled a pen from one of the drawers. "Why don't you come
around here to do it? You can sit in the stool, then." I offered her a smile for her generosity
and followed her to the other side of the counter. "Just watch out for the cord to the
register. We haven't got it taped–"
It was already too late. As only I could do, my ankle looped around the cord, and I
hit the ground hard. I wasn't able to get my hands out fast enough. My entire side was
throbbing, but it was nothing compared to what came next.
I let out a deafening howl as the heavy metal cash register landed on my calf with a
sickening crack. There was pain and there was screaming and there was tears. And there was
Edward. For the breaking of my leg still hurt less than the breaking of my heart.

Day Six Without Him

An earthquake shook the room. I was going to die. Yet, I didn't care enough to wake
up and run to safety.
"She'll be a little drowsy," I heard Charlie warn from some far away place. The Earth
continued to tremble. Really, it seemed best to sleep through the end of my world. There'd
be less pain that way. "Bella, wake up. Angela's on the phone."
I opened my eyes, looked at the alarm clock, and closed them again. "Is she worried
about the apocalypse?"
"Um, no." He handed me the portable.
"It's six-thirty in the morning," I grumbled.
"I have been freaking out!" Angela was being very loud. "Where have you been? I
was trying to call you all last night and there was no answer. I left like eighty messages and
you never called me back!"
"Dad, why didn't we answer the phone yesterday?"
"Because we were at the hospital. You broke your leg."
"Because we were at the hospital. You broke my leg," I repeated.
"I broke your leg?" she screeched.
"Noise, noise, noise." I held the phone away from my ear. Charlie pulled it out of my
hand and began saying something about compound fractures and Vicodin. Whatever. If I
broke my leg, it definitely didn't feel like it. All I wanted was to go back to sleep.
"How did you break your leg?" Angela asked.
How did I get the phone back? Where did Charlie go? "I dunno. Think it was a cash
register."
"A cash register? How can you break your leg on a cash register? That doesn't make
sense. Those pills must be really potent."
"This is a story about a girl named Lucky."

  109  
 "Huh?"
"I don't know why I said that."
There was a giggle on the other end of the phone. "Oh, Bella, you are so high."
"I thought I was Lucky."
"That's definitely the Vicodin speaking. Your dad says you're on a large dose to keep
the pain down."
"Oh, is that why it doesn't hurt?"
"I don't know but your dad says you'll be well enough to go to school tomorrow,
which is a good thing because guess what?"
"Chicken butt."
"I'm going to the Valentine's Day dance with Ben Cheney tomorrow night!"
"NO WAY!" I exaggerated every syllable and even some that weren't there.
"Oh, my God, you are so high. But yes, we're going, and I have to ask you a huge
favor."
"Anything, Angela. Absolutely anything, Angela. Anything for awesome Angela."
"Well, you know my parents have that rule that I can't go on a date until I'm
sixteen?"
"That is utter shit!"
Angela laughed but continued. "I can only go if someone comes with me, kind of
like a chaperone. So, I was wondering if you would help me out with that?"
"Of course, Angela! You are my best friend and, like you would do for me, I would
do for you. It takes two, baby. Anyway, Swirl wants to go."
"Who's Swirl?"
"Edward, silly," I said, envisioning my beautiful boyfriend. He was so beautiful.
Beautiful and hot.
"Edward wants to go to the dance?"
"Yeppers."
"What are you talking about?"
"Dr. Cullen was my doctor last night," I suddenly remembered. "I should probably
call Edward."
"Why is that?"
"To tell him that I'm all right. He must be worried."
"Bella, I'm not sure that's the best–"
"I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Wait!"
I felt kind of bad hanging up the phone on my best friend, but I needed to make
sure Edward knew I was all right. I dialed his number into the phone and held it up to my
ear, eager to hear the sound of his voice. It wasn't until the phone was ringing that I got the
ominous feeling telling me this wasn't a good idea. Then I remembered why.
"Thank you for calling. This is Edward Cullen, the founder and president of MyT-
Spot.com speaking. I appreciate your call, how may I help you?" My heart sputtered at the
sound of his voice, and then proceeded to ache as the foggy memories of our break-up
filtered in. "Is there anyone there?"
I still didn't say anything.
"Bella?" he guessed in a quiet voice.

  110  
 I couldn't answer, and yet I couldn't hang up. He didn't either, and I listened in
silence to the sound of his breathing until Charlie arrived with a tray of breakfast. "I'm
sorry," I whispered, before hanging up.
Collapsing onto my pillow, I turned toward the wall and snuggled into my blankets.
"I feel like I got shot by a tranquilizer. I think sleep is hunting me."
"No, you can't go back to sleep," Charlie said with a small shake on my arm. "You
have to get up and get dressed so I can take you over to Billy's."
"Whatta?"
"I'm taking you over to Billy Black's place for the day since I can't stay home from
work with you."
"But I don't even know Gilly Block. I don't need a babysitter."
"Bells, on your best day you are klutzy. Right now you are heavily medicated and
have a large cast on your right leg – that's a recipe for disaster. I'm not leaving you alone.
Now get up and get dressed."
I rolled over on my bed to face him. "But how am I supposed to do that with this
on?" I lifted my bulky, white cast off the bed for emphasis.
"You'll figure it out," he mirthfully said, exiting the room.

It'd been a long time since I'd seen Billy or La Push, but it felt familiar pulling up to
his house. My dad carried my backpack up the stairs to the porch, while I hobbled my way
over on the crutches. This was not going to end well.
Billy opened the door with a smile. "Hello, Bella. Welcome."
"You have nice hair," I complimented, carefully working my way inside.
Charlie pointed at me and gave Billy the universal sign for crazy. "She doesn't have a
very high tolerance for pain medication," he said, completely ignoring my glare.
"That is so not true!"
"Don't worry. I'm sure your dad is being dramatic like normal."
"Thank you so much!" I smiled at Billy gratefully. That is, until a picture of a
beautiful Native American woman on his fireplace mantel distracted me. "Why is your
picture looking at me funny? Does she think I'm weird?" Billy raised both of his eyebrows
while Charlie chortled uncontrollably. "What?"
"Uh, no. She doesn't find you weird," Billy said. "But hey, I got you something to
keep you occupied today."
"Really?"
"Yep. I know what it's like not to be able to use your legs." He nodded down to his
wheelchair, and then picked up a box that was leaning against the wall. "So, I thought you
might try fishing."
"Fishing? Fishing?"
"I knew you'd like the idea! There are a few small cliffs right outside the house; you
can probably find one that isn't too hard to get to with your leg." Billy passed Charlie the
box of fishing crap. "The kids on the res have the day off school. They'll be around if you
have any questions."
"Uh, thanks," I said. "This is really… cool."
"I told you she'd love it," Billy said to Charlie. "I'm down with the kids."
"Oh yeah, dude, you're the bomb."

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 I looked between them in absolute horror. No medication was strong enough for
this. "I'll be outside," I said, fleeing the room as fast as my crutches would carry me. Charlie
followed and located a small cliff overlooking the ocean that wasn't far off the road.
"Do you seriously expect me to fish, Dad?" I asked, sitting down in the canvas chair
Charlie set up for me and propping my foot up on the box of fishing supplies. "I have
homework to do."
"You know what they say: 'A bad day of fishing is better than a good day at work,' "
he quoted.
"Who says that?"
Charlie smiled, and, after handing me the baited hook, said, "Never mind that. Do
me a favor? Wait until the Vicodin's worn off before tackling your homework. I think you'll
be happier with the result."
"Whatever." I held the fishing pole rod firmly and attempted to flick the hook
forcefully enough to land in the water below.
"Wow. You're about as bad as Edward at casting a line."
"Edward sucks at fishing?" I perked up at this new tidbit of information.
"Yeah, he's pretty much the worst – besides you, of course." Charlie paused,
contemplating, before he added, "He did shock the hell out of me by catching a Tiger
Muskie once."
"What's a Tiger Muskie?"
"Something precious." He placed a small kiss on my forehead, then turned to leave.
"Be good for Billy, please."
I put the fishing pole down next to my chair and dug inside my heavy backpack to
pull out my CD player and headphones. I set my backpack firmly on top of the rod so if I
did miraculously catch a fish, it wouldn't go anywhere. Leaned back and eyes closed, I was
ready to spend the morning with the only person who always seemed to understand me:
Britney.
She'd recently gone through her own heart-wrenching break-up with Justin
Timberlake, so we were never more connected. Song after song, Britney poured her heart
out. By the time I got to “Born to Make You Happy” the tears had started flowing again.
It was as if she were looking into my soul when she wrote these lyrics. How could
she capture so perfectly what I was feeling now?

I don't know how to live without your love

I was born to make you happy

Yesterday I had walked into Newton's Outfitters with a mission to find an Edward-
less routine, but my broken leg had ripped that small solace away. Fate was having a good
laugh. I couldn't be with him and I couldn't be without him.
I reached to retrieve the next CD in Britney's collection, but my fingers scraped
something else in my backpack pocket. I'd put the Evenstar in there after taking it back from
Edward. After pulling the precious gift from its hiding place, I gently caressed its delicate
surface.
"That's a nice necklace."
I screamed in shock. One of the res boys was lounging on the ground next to me.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I clutched my pounding heart.
"You're Bella, right? I saw you over here and thought I'd come hang out."

  112  
 "Why?" I immediately disliked this boy.
"For shits and giggles." He had a cocky grin that made me want to punch him. I
flipped him my pinky. "What are you doing?"
I shoved my pinky further in his face. "I'm giving you the feather 'cause Charlie says
I'm not allowed to give anyone the bird."
He looked at me incredulously for a second before breaking out into obnoxious,
howling laughter. "Are you for real, right now?"
My eyes narrowed. "How long have you been sitting here?"
"A while. I never knew girls cried so much. You're all weird."
"How old are you anyway? Nine?" I shot back.
"I'm thirteen," he said proudly.
"So you're a scrub?"
"A scrub?"
"Yeah, you know. A middle-schooler?" Kids could be so annoying at times.
"Dude, what're you, sixteen? Plus you cry and you're a girl and you don't even give
the bird. That makes you like forty-three."
"Stupid scrub."
"So, how did you break your leg?"
"On a cash register," I answered shortly, trying to make it clear that I wasn't
interested in pursuing a conversation.
"Dude, how does that even happen? Who's stupid enough to break their leg on a
cash register?"
I was about to respond back in righteous indignation when something over his
shoulder caught my attention. "Hey, Derek, what are those boys doing?"
"My name's not Derek. It's–"
"Sure, sure. Can you tell me what they're doing?"
He looked over his shoulder. "They're cliff diving."
"Is it safe?" I stumbling up onto my good leg to get a clearer view. A boy took a
running start and leapt off the edge of the cliff.
"It's safe if you know what you're doing. Most of us start jumping off smaller cliffs
like this one when we're kids. Why? Do you want to try?" Instead of answering, I tightened
my grip on the Evenstar and turned to face the vast ocean in front of me. "Are you crazy or
just stupid? You can't jump off a cliff with a cast on. You'll drown and I'm not going in after
you. The water's too cold!"
I ignored him, having more important things to think about. Not without effort, I
took another small step forward. The wind from the ocean was cold on my face. The rock
beneath my feet was slightly damp. The Vicodin was starting to wear off, and I was
beginning to feel a tinge of pain in my right leg.
This felt right. This felt like the place I needed to do this at. Even from far away I
could see what the cliff-diving boys experienced when they jumped – it was freedom for
them and that's what I needed for myself. I needed to be free from the pain, from the
heartache, from Edward, and there was only one way to do that.
The hand that held my Evenstar hovered over the cliff as far as I could reach. I
remembered how thrilled I'd been when Edward accepted this token of my affection and
how afterwards we'd shared our first kiss. My eyes closed and I imagined the feel of his hand
in mine, his breath on my face, the sound of his voice.

  113  
 "I love you, Edward," I whispered into the wind. A small smile played on my lips as
his remembered face appeared before my eyes.
And with that, I let the Evenstar drop.
My heart sank into my stomach as I waited for the plop of it landing in the water,
but instead heard, "Uh, are you sure you want to drop this into the ocean?" I peeked through
one eye to find Scrub assessing my Evenstar, which he'd caught right after it fell. Shit. I'd
forgotten he was there. "It's a really nice piece of jewelry. If you don't want it, I'll keep it?"
I yanked the Evenstar out of his grip. "What do you think you're doing? That doesn't
belong to you!" As the words flew from my mouth, I realized how huge a mistake I'd almost
made.
The necklace didn't belong to Scrub, but it also didn't belong to me. It wasn't mine
to throw away. Losing the necklace would not absolve me from the pain – that could not be
launched off a cliff. And even though I had it in my possession, my heart was always going
to be his.
"Uh… Bella?"
"What?" I snapped, annoyed that Scrub was interrupting my epiphany.
"I think you caught a fish."
The tip of my rod was bending and my heart skipped a beat. I had caught a fish. My
God, maybe I was Charlie Swan's daughter! Scrub helped me reel in the line but my
excitement instantly vanished as the catch came into view.
I had caught… seaweed.
Typical.

Day Seven Without Him

Hobbling into Musical Theater class, I wasn't sure how I was supposed to act. After
all, Edward and I may or may not have spent a couple minutes on the phone yesterday
morning… breathing? I couldn't quite remember; a lot of yesterday's details were muddled.
My heart plummeted when I saw Edward sitting in the front row talking to Eric
Yorkie, rather than the back where we normally sat together. I didn't know why I had
expected anything different. He had probably done it because he didn't want me to feel
obligated to sit next to him, but it still hurt making my way back my regular seat alone.
There was no way around it – today was complete shit. The cherry on top of the
cake was that it was also Valentine's Day, and Angela, my former best friend, had tricked me
into going to the stupid dance tonight. I'd considered not going on principle (having agreed
while under the influence), but this was the moment she'd been waiting for with Ben
Cheney. She deserved her happily ever after.
Of their own accord, my eyes looked over to Edward, and then widened when I
realized he was staring at me. Well, kind of. It'd be more accurate to say he was glaring at my
foot. Specifically, my cast. But really, it was attached to my foot, which was attached to me,
so it was all the same thing.
Out of irritation, he tapped a pencil relentlessly against his binder. If he hadn't just
ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped it into a million pieces, sending me into a
black hole of despair, I might have found it funny how he seemed incapable of keeping his
eyes off my cast for more than thirty-seven seconds at a time. But that, coupled with my
growing anxiety over Mrs. McCrae announcing the cast, meant my nerves were wearing thin.

  114  
 "Can I help you?" I finally asked.
He looked up from my ankle to my face; his eyes were soft and somewhat
compassionate. He remedied that quickly, though, shrugging and turning to the front of the
room. Of course, thirty-three seconds later he was back to glaring at my cast. He probably
didn't realize he was doing it. Oh well, at least he was staring at me.
Mrs. McCrae walked into the class holding a stack of paperback books with Cinderella
written across their spines. "I know you've all been anticipating this day for a very long
time," she said, placing the playbooks on the hood of the piano. "So, I won't keep you
waiting."
A knot coiled painfully in my stomach, and if it were even possible, my heart started
beating faster. The smug look Alice shot back at me confirmed she knew her victory was
close at hand. And she was right. Mrs. McCrae would never elect a Cinderella that had a
broken leg. Yet, despite knowing it wasn't possible, my body reacted as if I still had a chance
in hell at getting the lead.
"First off, we'll start with the female roles. I'm happy to announce that the role of
Cinderella will go to…"
The knot gave an agonizing twist and I held my breath.
"Alice Brandon."
I kept my eyes closed for a few precious seconds, if only to pretend it was a dream,
and then opened them to the sight of a squealing Alice accepting the first copy of the
playbook. The anticipation was worse than actually knowing. And now that I did know, I
could happily envision Alice wearing a hideous blonde wig and a humongous blue dress that
overwhelmed her petite frame. It was almost enough to override my outstanding
disappointment that Edward was going to be her Prince Charming.
Almost being the key word. I brushed away a stray tear, not allowing the image of
Edward kissing Alice to infiltrate my brain. I would only cross that bridge when I absolutely
had to. The familiar numbness filled me as Mrs. McCrae began listing off the other roles. I
wouldn't have even heard what happened next if she hadn't announced that I would play the
queen just before.
"And Prince Charming will be played by Eric Yorkie." Over the eerie silence that
followed, I actually heard Alice's mouth pop open.
"Wait, what?" Eric asked in utter disbelief. Alice nodded along with him, and
suddenly this play became the most irrationally exciting thing in my life.
Though I tried to cover it up with a cough, there was no way to hide my giggle. I
hadn't felt this giddy in a long time, and my giggle turned into a full-on laugh when Alice
turned to glare at me. "You heard her, Eric. You're Prince Charming."
My confirmation was like Mandrake Draught to the petrified Eric, and he walked to
the front of the class to collect his playbook. For the briefest of moments I let my guard
down and glanced at Edward. He was looking back at me, his eyes shining with humor.
I felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in my stomach that always came when he
looked at me like that. I missed it – I missed him, but never so much as I did right now. It
was times like this that defined our relationship – little moments that we shared because we
were the only two people in the world that got it. In a way, this moment was perfect because
it didn't feel as if Edward and I had ever broken up. It felt like we were back to whom we'd
always been together. And in a way, the pain was much worse because of it.
Mrs. McCrae's announcement that Edward would be playing the king pulled his
attention away from me, and our connection was broken. I blinked in bewilderment, needing

  115  
to get out of here and fast. Mrs. McCrae easily consented to my request to use the restroom,
and I hurried down the aisle on my crutches.
The hallway was blessedly empty and easy to navigate. It was when I was faced with
the task of opening the bathroom door that the challenge presented itself. Try as I might, I
couldn't maneuver my bulky cast past the entrance without catching my foot on the edge of
the door, and I would have fallen flat on my face if a pair of strong arms hadn't caught me
on the way down. For a second I thought Edward had followed me from the classroom, but
when I looked up it was a pair of blue eyes I met, not green.
"You look like shit." Rosalie Hale was never one for tact.
In an impressive display of strength, she managed to tilt me back up on my foot and
hold the door open at the same time. "Thank you," I said, hobbling to the sinks.
"It's no big. I hate it when people aren't honest with me. You deserve the same
courtesy."
"Right. Of course I was referring to your blunt insult, and not your saving me."
"Yeah, I'm a hero." She followed me over to the sinks and began applying red lip
gloss. "So, how did you break your leg?"
I was so sick of repeating this story. "Let's just say there was a cash register
involved."
"A cash register? What kind of moron manages to break their leg on a cash register?"
I ignored her dig, and began washing my hands under the warm water – crutches were
particularly strenuous on them. I also splashed some water on my face. "You know that's not
going to help erase the baggies under your eyes, right? You should try Avon – their make up
is the best–"
"I'm getting really tired of people telling what I should or shouldn't do," I said. "I get
it. I suck. I wish everyone would stop pointing it out."
She went quiet. I was about to apologize for venting, when she shifted her weight
and awkwardly said, "You may speak to me about your problems."
Though positive I had misheard her, her expression told me I hadn't. "Why, uh,
thank you for the honor, your majesty. But no thank you." I hadn't spoken about this with
Angela; did she really think I would talk about it with her?
Rosalie rolled her eyes. "Once upon a time someone found me in a bathroom crying
and offered to listen. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Listen to your own damn advice and speak
already." She actually made a valid point, and I had to think it wasn't coincidence that the
only time we'd ever made an effort to talk was in this exact restroom. Maybe she was the
best person to talk to, since she'd gone through something similar with Emmett.
For the first time since it happened, I spoke about the break-up. I told her the build
up of events that led to that fatal argument, and about everything that came after it. She
listened and I found that it did help having a confidant to share this with. Until it was time
for her to talk, that was.
"Wow. You're an even bigger idiot than I thought." Yep. Never one for tact, that
Rosalie Hale. "Let me get this straight. You broke up with the boy you claim you're in love
with over Harry Potter?"
"It wasn't like that," I said, annoyed by her insinuation that I didn't love Edward.
"There were other things on top of that, like all the lies–"
"You're such a moron. You accuse him of lying to you, and yet you did the exact
same thing. You blamed him for not taking an interest in your hobbies, and yet expected
him to know you didn't enjoy his. Take some damn responsibility in this."

  116  
 I stood there, stunned. Why did this sound so much worse coming from Rosalie?
"So it's all my fault? He tries to get back at me with that stupid shrine and I have to sit down
and take it?"
"I never said it was all your fault. Edward is equally moronic. But all you have is
excuses. I mean really? Harry Potter versus Lord of the Rings? Who the hell breaks up over that?
It sounds to me like you were looking for an excuse to break-up."
"How can you say that?"
"Because we have these things called mouths, and normal people use it to talk to one
another. Clearly both you and Edward are defective or you'd be doing that right now instead
of fucking around and torturing each other. If you love him as much as you say you do,
you'd do everything in your power to fight for him."
"I'm sorry, but the last time I checked your track record wasn't so clean. Unless you
count making out with your boyfriend's best friend fighting for what you want," I said,
regretting it as it came out of my mouth.
Rosalie's eyes flashed and she took a deep breath. "As a matter of fact, you'd be
amazed at how simply talking about an issue can solve it. If Emmett can forgive me for what
happened with Royce, I think you can forgive Edward for his petty, yet hilarious, revenge."
"Wait, you and Emmett are back together?" I asked.
"Yep, we, ya know, used our mouths."
"You mean you talked about it."
"Among other things."
Right. That was my cue to leave.

I didn't want to listen to Rosalie. I wanted to push her down a flight of stairs for
questioning my love for Edward. She was wrong about the franchises being our downfall. It
was deeper than that. He had lied to me, belittled my interests. So what if I had held out on
the information that I hated Lord of the Rings? At least I had tried.
It was long past the final bell when I returned to Musical Theater, and the classroom
was empty save Mrs. McCrae. I said a quick apology and she pointed toward my desk, where
she had put my copy of Cinderella. It wasn't the book, however, that made me stop in my
tracks.
"A member of student council came by with Valentine's Day Flower-grams. I told
him to put it with your stuff." Technically, the unassuming flower could have been from
anyone in the school. In my gut, I knew it was from him. "And for what it's worth," Mrs.
McCrae called, exiting the music room, "I think you're going to be great as Edward's queen."
My breathing sped, not from the exertion of getting to my desk, but from the
excitement of what this meant. I recognized his handwriting upon opening the note attached
to the carnation, and my heart stopped in my chest before taking off at the speed of sound. I
was transported back to exactly one year ago when a certain boy had sent over thirty flower-
grams to my class with notes written in Elvish. I had begged him to tell me what those notes
meant, but he had only smiled obstinately and told me to figure it out for myself.
This year, the message was different.

Annon gur nîn achen.

I give you my heart.

  117  
 The flame that had gone out reignited in my soul, quickly growing into a raging
inferno. The fire blazed bright and beautiful, blinding me of any resentment or lingering
anger I had felt towards him in the past.
Excuses. I was all excuses. And I was a coward. I was waiting for Edward to come to
me because I was too afraid to tell him how I felt. Even before we broke up, I had been
waiting on him. Enough was enough. I had to fight for him, really fight for him.
I couldn't believe it had taken Rosalie Hale to put all this into perspective. Who knew
a girl like her had layers under all that hostility?

The gym was decorated like Cupid's worst nightmare. There were red streamers
everywhere, heart-shaped balloons and shiny pink confetti artfully tossed on each of the
tables. I had chosen a seat far away from the dance floor, not wanting to see how happy
everyone else was this Valentine's Day. Instead, I traced the design imprinted on the red
paper tablecloth and plotted my next move for getting back together with Edward.
My notepad and pen sat idly in front of me. I had never felt so out of place before,
wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Angela flung herself into a neighboring seat, reminding me why I was here. "Oh, my
God, Bella. Isn't tonight magical?" she asked with sparkling eyes. She looked beautiful
tonight, genuinely happy.
Instead of answering her question, I asked, "So you're having a good time?" If her
night was magical, I wasn't ruining it for her.
"Yes. Ben is so much fun!" She let out a tiny squeal, and despite my growing smile, I
was envious of her – I missed the exhilaration of new love. "What have you been up to in
your little corner?" she asked, grabbing my notepad off the table. Her smile faded as she read
over the list. "Seriously, Bella? Cook him a cake frosted with I love you, write him a poem
that rhymes with I love you, make him a t-shirt that says I love you? Please tell me this is a
joke."
Snatching the notepad back from her, I said, "Okay, fine. So maybe they aren't my
most brilliant ideas ever. I'm working on it."
"You don't have to do any of those ridiculous things to win Edward back. All you
have to do is tell him you love him. You don't need to do it with some stupid grand gesture."
I was on the verge of giving her the feather. "But then again, maybe grand gestures aren't the
worst thing in the world." Her eyes were centered on the dance floor and I followed her
gaze.
I gasped sharply as the crowd parted for him. No grand gesture on my part would
ever come close to topping this.
Edward Cullen stood there, confident in his black slacks, grey vest, long flowing
robe, and lightning bolt scar, complete with broomstick and circular glasses. Daniel Radcliffe
would never again be the Harry Potter I dreamed about.
The entire student body was staring at him, but Edward was solely focused on me.
The crooked smile I loved was fixed on his lips, amused, I was sure, at the reaction he was
stirring up in me. I could only imagine how stupid I looked admiring the Eighth World
Wonder. He strode over with purpose and determination, and said, "Thank you for getting
her here." What? He was staring into my eyes, but his words didn't make sense.
"You're welcome. It was easier than I thought – she was heavily medicated when I
asked." The little manipulator!

  118  
 "It's very much appreciated. Would you mind holding my broomstick?" Edward
passed his authentic-looking Nimbus 2001 to Angela. "Bella and I are going to dance."
"Uh, Edward, I don't know if you've noticed but I broke my leg. I don't think
dancing is possible."
Edward's smile didn't fall, but turned mischievous. "That won't be a problem," he
said, sweeping me off my feet. Literally. He picked me up and carried me to the edge of the
dance floor, then tenderly placed me down so that each of my feet were positioned on top of
his. I laced my arms around his neck, clinging to him to steady myself. Edward rested his
hands on the small of my back, drawing me impossibly closer. And because magic exists,
*NSYNC's God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You came over the sound system.
It felt as though we were the only two people in the room, cocooned in each other's
embrace as we moved in small circles. This had to be the most romantic moment of my life.
I didn't want to waste any of it. I laid my head against his chest and was content to finally
feel the beat of his heart, breathe in his perfect scent, immerse myself in his warmth.
Edward rested his cheek against my hair, and I imagined that he was reacquainting
himself with me just as I was doing with him. The moment only became more perfect when
he began singing so only I could hear.

"Can this be true? Tell me, can this be real?

How can I put into words what I feel?
My life was complete. I thought I was whole.
Why do I feel like I'm losing control?"

"Tell me something," he said abruptly.

"Anything."
"How did you break your leg?" I groaned, burying my face even further in his chest.
"My dad refused to tell me, reciting some crap about doctor/patient confidentiality."
I looked up at him, happy that the gym was dark so he couldn't see how red my face
was. "It's not that I don't want to tell you – it's just really embarrassing…"
"Please, Bella?" he begged. "It's been torturing me."
"Fine, I tripped over a cash register. Happy now?"
Edward stopped dancing. "How can you trip over a cash register? Aren't they
generally on counters?"
Blushing harder, I turned away. Edward chuckled and resumed our slow spinning.
"Tell me something else?"
"It depends."
His expression was guarded as he asked, "Did-did you mean what you said in the
office? About no amount of time changing your feelings for me?"
"Absolutely," I said. "Nothing could change how I feel about you – not Lord of the
Rings, not Audrey Hepburn, and certainly not Harry Potter." I took a deep breath, trying to
gather courage for what I was about to tell him. "Edward, I love you. With my whole heart, I
love you."
All of the air seemed to leave his body. Relief flitted across his face, which swiftly
grew into a huge smile. "Oh, thank God!" he said loudly, with a slightly hysterical laugh. "I
thought you would never say that."
"Me?" I asked in astonishment. "Me? What about you? I've been waiting for you to
say it!"

  119  
 He looked confused. "But I have been saying it. I've been saying it for over a year.
What do you think amin mela lle means?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know that, Edward? I speak English!" I said,
suddenly furious. "How many thousands of times have I asked you to translate that for me?
How could you possibly tell me the single most important thing I will ever hear in… Elvish?
You are such a–"
And then nothing else mattered because Edward was kissing me. And not some soft,
gentle, sweet kiss, but one that was filled with passion and hope and ecstasy. I poured every
ounce of love and desire into that kiss, and Edward responded with equal fervor.

Never thought that love could feel like this

And you changed my world with just one kiss

I pulled away from him, breathless and utterly content. Well, except for one thing…
"Edward? Will you do something for me?"
He swept a lock of hair away from my face and gently caressed my cheek.
"Anything," he whispered.
"For God's sake, will you please just say it in English?"
He let out a chuckle before looking deeply in my eyes and saying with absolute
sincerity, "Since the very moment that you stepped into my world, with everything that I am,
my entire heart and soul, I have been yours. Isabella Marie Swan, I love you."
With those simple, honest words, everything in me shifted. I wasn't the same girl I
had been moments ago – I was Edward Anthony Cullen's Bella. I belonged to him and he
would always be mine. A tear ran down my cheek at the devotion behind his words, the
pure, unqualified reverence.
Edward kissed the tear away, and, pulling me hopelessly closer to him, whispered
into my ear, "And so the Ringer fell in love with the Potterphile."
I laughed. "What a stupid Potterphile."
"What a sick, masochistic Ringer," he teased back.
"There's hope for you yet. After all, you did show up to a school function dressed as
Harry Potter."
"I figured I would need all the help I could get after you dumped the root beer float
on me Wednesday."
"I would apologize and say I regretted it… except I don't."
He beamed. "Figures. Stubborn girl."

When I look into your eyes, I know that it's true.

"Bella?"
"Yes?"
"My feet hurt."

God must have spent a little more time on you.

  120  
 Chapter 16: The First Time She Said the A-Word

Teen Beat Magazine

April 2003
Edition #81, 170
Yikes! Totally Embarrassing Moments

I Had Toilet Paper In My Skirt!

"I was going to dinner with my crush, so I was like, 'Okay, I must look cute.' So I wore this little mini-skirt
and a really cute pink shirt. So I walk down the stairs to meet my date at the front door and he's looking at
me all weird. Then, my mom comes up behind me and pulls TOILET PAPER out of my skirt that had
gotten stuck there when I used the bathroom! It was a nightmare!"
Kara C.
Muskegun, MI

My Crush Found My Love Letter!

"When I was younger, I had a crush on this guy. I was totally crushing hard. I wrote him this note professing
my love and asking him to meet me at the flag pole after school if he was interested. I completely chickened out
but months later, he became my best friend and found my letter buried in my text book! At first, I was
absolutely mortified, but then he told me he loved me, too. We've been together almost four months and I
couldn't be happier!
Dorothy R.
Richmond, CA

My Boyfriend Is A Pervert!
"Before I start my story, I need to mention that my boyfriend and I run a website that sells t-shirts. I won't
tell you what the website's name is, but let's just say that it's dirty. Except I didn't know it was dirty until
the other day. My boyfriend and I were in his bedroom working on an art project…

A shudder ran through my body as his long fingers slid down my thigh. "You've got
to stop doing that."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Edward finished wiping the white paint off
my leg and picked his brush up again. "Remember, you have to stay still or I'm going to
accidentally get paint on you."
He was so full of it; I knew his game. My body hadn't moved a centimeter and he
wasn't messing up. Edward was always very precise with his artwork, as was proven by the
gorgeous field of daisies he was painting on my cast. Yet, a few minutes later, there was
another long streak of white paint up my thigh where Edward had "accidentally" missed my
cast.
He took his time wiping the paint off, his fingers lingering on my leg. I once more
found myself out of breath. "Edward?"
"Hmm?" He was completely focused on the patch of pale skin he was cleaning.
"Maybe I should wear shorts more often."
"Why do you say that?"

  121  
 "You seem to like them a lot."
He lifted himself so he was eye level with me on the couch. "I love you," he said with
a roguish smile, leaning in to kiss me.

…We also may have been fooling around a little, and I decided it might be a good time to ask him some
questions. He seems particularly susceptible to divulging information while his 'mind' is otherwise occupied…

"Will you tell me what the daisies stand for?"

"Nope." He brushed my mouth with another kiss, and then dragged his lips down to
my neck.
Damn. He most likely would not take the bait if he wouldn't even answer my warm-
up question. Oh well, it was still worth a shot. "Well, if not the daisies, will you at least tell
me about MyT-Spot?"
He stopped kissing my neck. Giving me an exasperated groan, he picked up his paint
brush and went back to work on my cast. "How many times do I have to tell you that if you
want to know, you're going to have to call your mom?"
"Why won't you just tell me? This is the same problem we had before we broke up,
with the Elvish-"
"Trust me. This is very different."
"Our communication sucks. What's the deal?"
He pursed his lips and pretended to focus on the cast. "It wouldn't be appropriate."
"You just spent the better part of an hour feeling up my leg in your parents' house.
Most of what we do is inappropriate. Tell me already."
The small smile that ghosted his lips told me that he had no intention of budging on
this issue. "Nope. The portable phone is right behind you if you wish to place a call to your
mother."

…I was beyond frustrated when he wouldn't give up any of the info, especially since it had to do with the
name of the website we work for, but he practically dared me to call my mom right in front of him. I don't
think he thought I would do it because he looked petrified when I grabbed the phone and started dialing her
number…

"Hey, Mom, it's Bella!" Renee seemed as genuinely happy to hear from me as
Edward seemed shocked that I was actually on the phone with her. "So, I'm sitting here with
Edward, and he had a question that he was too embarrassed to ask you."
Edward's mouth popped open, and he started shaking his head in mortification,
motioning for me to cut the call.
I let out a malicious snicker before saying, "He was wondering what the big deal with
MyT-Spot was."
There was a pause on the other end of the phone and I couldn't help but smile in
victory as Edward's face drained of all color. That was, until my mother corrected my
"spelling" and proceeded to tell me exactly why Edward should care for my, uh… spot. I felt
the blood rush to my cheeks, my face taking on the same humiliated expression as Edward's.

  122  
 "Okay, Mom, I have to go. I'll call you later," I said as she started going into details
about… stimulation. I hung up the phone immediately, not quite able to look at Edward.
And then it hit me.

…Let's just say, after the phone call, I understood why my boyfriend didn't want to answer my question.
What I didn't understand is why he hadn't told me to call my mom sooner! I've been walking around town
for YEARS talking about this website that I work for and it turns out the name is totally dirty! And the
worst part is it was his GRANDMOTHER that suggested the name in the first place!…

How many times had I told Dr. Cullen that we'd be up in Edward's room working
on MyT-Spot? How many times had I mentioned to Esme that MyT-Spot was a two-person
job? How many thousands of times had I mentioned MyT-Spot to other people at school?
Oh my God… A few weeks ago, Mike Newton had offered to help me with…
And I had told him I appreciated the offer.
"ASSHOLE!" I exclaimed, burying my face in a couch pillow, equally frustrated and
mortified. The awkward silence resumed as my mind continued to calculate all of the
moments I had unintentionally humiliated myself.
"If it helps Bella, I'm just as embarrassed as you are."

…Needless to say, I'm NEVER letting my boyfriend or his family members have a part in choosing the
name of any future business ventures."
Rebecca S.
Forks, Washington

  123  
 Chapter 17: A Farewell to Ninth Grade 2002 - 2003

It felt ominous being in the auditorium after the school had closed, even if I was
surrounded by the cast and crew of Cinderella, and a few losers who had nothing better to do
with their lives than crash our after-party (which was pretty much everyone – this was Forks
after all). Cinderella had been the perfect ending to a most disastrous school year. Not an
hour before, we had given our final performance in this theater and I couldn't be happier it
was over.
I'd gotten my cast removed in early May, which gave me only a few weeks to learn all
the dance moves the other students had been working on for two months. I was wobbly on
my feet, but Edward was always there to catch me if I fell. And to get me a snack if I was
hungry. And to grab me a sweater if I was cold. And to do my math homework.
Okay, he didn't really do my math homework (all the time), but he was the perfect
boyfriend. After our break-up, he seemed determined to make me fall more in love with him
than ever. As if that was possible. For instance, he ordered Harry Potter stuff to put in my
room. Nothing with Daniel Radcliffe's face on it, of course, but a full-size poster of the
Goblet of Fire book cover and a wizard's chess set.
In return, I showed him how much I appreciated the effort he was making. Let's just
say there were many trips to the Cullen's movie room made, and whenever we left, Edward
had a goofy grin on his face.
I grudgingly had to admit that the play itself wasn't too bad. As King and Queen,
Edward and I had to wear hideous make-up meant to make us look older, with grey streaks
in our hair. None of that mattered once we were on stage, though. With strong arms and
steady feet, Edward had led me gracefully around the dance floor. He never once tore his
eyes away from mine and with him looking at me like that, I didn't care that the crowd was
watching. At the end of our dance number, he leaned in and kissed me (something that was
definitely not in the script).
That wasn't even the best part of the play. Alice had to kiss Eric Yorkie. Multiple
times. On the lips.
It. Was. Awesome.
And also a little wrong. Every time Eric would go in for the kill, Alice would scrunch
up her nose and make her lips as thin as possible. As a joke, Eric tried to slip her the tongue
once or twice. Or maybe it wasn't a joke. You never knew with Eric.
Angela, one of the many gatecrashers at the Cinderella after-party, walked up to me
with a light step and glowing eyes. "What are you giggling about?" I asked.
"Oh, Ben's just being Ben. He's so amazing."
"What was it now? A hug? A peck on the cheek?" That relationship was moving
along at the pace of a dying snail. Both of them were too shy for their own good, and despite
my constant repeats of the same lines Angela always fed me, she didn't seem inclined to take
her own advice.
She made a caustic face and turned back to the party. One wall of the auditorium
was lined with tables that held plenty of cookies, chips, and soda to accommodate most of
the Forks High population. People filtered in and out of the large room, signing yearbooks,
snapping pictures, and chatting with their friends.
"Where's Edward?" Angela asked.

  124  
 "I think he's getting changed out of his costume. He'll be here in a minute," I said.
"In the meantime, I think I'm going to get my yearbook signed. This will probably be our
last chance." It was eleven now and the party ended at midnight. Mrs. McCrae was shooting
for some kind of corresponding symbolism between our play and the party.
Angela agreed and pulled the large, bulky book out of her bag. High school
yearbooks were larger than middle school ones, but I guess it was fitting that they were –
after all, we were playing on a bigger stage now.

Yo Bella,

It's been really great knowing you these past few years.
Theater waz the best!
I hope to see you next year!
Stay cool, stay in school, and don't do drugs!

See ya later,
Eric

P.S. Keep this signature! I could be famous!

AIM: theaterplaya88
Yahoo: kisszaprince88
MSA: urprincecharming88
e-mail: eric_yorkie

Hey Eric,
You did an amazing job as Prince Charming.
I hope you get the lead in every play you're in.
Have a nice summer.
Bella

-Bella-

What's up?
Ya know what I love about you?
You have amazing sense of style… I just love it!
Have a tight summer!

-luvs ya-
Lauren
555-4183

Lauren,
Have a great summer.
Bella

  125  
Bella:
Great year, huh?
I hope next year will be as good.
Have a great summer. I hope to see
you at the HP convention in Seattle
with Angela and Edward.
Ben Cheney
555-0396

Hey Ben,
The HP convention is going to be
awesome. Still working on convincing
Edward to go. But I have my ways. ;)
Bella

hiyas!
musical theater was a ton better
because you were in it!
you brighten the room & r sooo spirity!
anyway, hope your summer rocks in stereo!
w/ luv,
Jessica

Hey Jessica,
Have an awesome summer.
Bella

~ Bella ~
I hope ya had a good year!
Have a great summer. I hope
to see you next year!
~Katie Marshall~
Hey Katie,
Have a fantastic summer.
Bella

Michael,
What is there to say?
Bella

  126  
Weed is fun.
Weed is great.
And I think I forgot the rest.
No… Weed's the best!

Tyler
Tyler,
You may want to lay off that a bit.
Have an amazing summer.
Bella

(-: Happy face of doom! -Connor

Have a remarkable summer.
Bella

Hey Bella!
Musical Theater was fun b/c you were there
but kinda sucked b/c of Mrs. McCrae.
You are so sweet, stay that way!
Luv ya!
Samantha
555-1635

Hey Samantha,
Have a splendid summer.
Bella

Bella! Dudester!
Why doesn't glue stick to the
inside of the bottle?
Emmett McCarty
Use Google. Trust me.
Have an astounding summer.
Bella

Rosalie Hale

Your highness,
Have a stupendous summer.
Bella

Likewise, moron.
Rosalie Hale (revised)

  127  
Bella,
I don't really know you or talk to you
but you seem cool. It was a pleasure
meeting you.
Until next year!
Jasper Whitlock

Hey Jasper,
Don't worry, I don't think anyone else
noticed when you "accidentally" dropped that
piece of plywood and broke one of Alice's
glass slippers.
Thank you for all the hard work you put
into making the props and set for Cinderella.
You were definitely an invaluable asset
to the crew.
Bella

hey girl!
Geez! Thank you SO much for being such a great friend to me this year!
You are SO awesome!
I hope we can be friends forever and ever! =)!
We needa hang out this summer. Seriously! Go HPcon 2003!
You're a really great person to talk to! Gotta go!
Luv ya bunches!
Cynthia Kay Brandon
555-9532
Cynthiakay@yahoo.com
Hey Cynthia,
It's been fun getting to know you over lunch.
You're going to the HP convention? How thrilling.
Bella

Hey Angela,
I don't feel as if I need to say much
since you're my BFF and know
everything anyway. I'm psyched for
the summer – we have to get Edward
to that HP convention!
Bella

Bella,
Don't worry, we're definitely getting him there.
Speaking of Edward, here comes your prince charming now.
What's with the daisies?
Angela

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 I looked up to see Edward changed out of his costume and holding a bouquet of
daisies. Instead of looking weird with the streaks of grey still in his hair, he looked refined.
Kind of like Dr. Cullen. Huh.
"These are for you." He placed the bouquet in my arms. "For a brilliant performance
and only tripping on the stage once. And even then, it was a tiny stumble. Hardly
noticeable."
I pouted, grumbling, "I didn't think anyone had noticed that."
Edward laughed and placed a kiss on my forehead. "Maybe no one else did. But I
believe I have acquired a sixth sense – one that is acutely aware of every move you make. It
comes with being in love with you, I think."
My heart fluttered as it always did when he told me he loved me. I would never get
tired of hearing that.
"Actually, I also saw the stumble, and I don't have weird Bella spidey-senses," Angela
said. I glared at her for ruining a perfect moment. She held up her hands. "You can't
honestly expect me to be quiet with Edward spewing out such cheesy lines. Really, I'm trying
to save him from himself. You know what? I'll be over there with Ben."
Edward seemed more amused than insulted by Angela's comment. I smiled. "Thank
you for the flowers. They're beautiful."
"As are you."
"Yeah, I'm sure I look real hot right now. Is it the grey hair that does it for you?"
He chuckled and swept a piece of grey behind my ear. "At least I know that when
we're old and grey you're still going to be good-looking."
"Old and grey?"
"Yeah, in forty or fifty years," he said. "I do expect some inevitable aging – wrinkles,
possible crow's feet, drooping." He waggled his eyebrows.
Should I be ecstatic that Edward had hinted he still expected us to be together in
forty years or completely disgusted that he was imagining me with "drooping" body parts?
"You think about that kind of stuff?"
It was his turn to look surprised, and maybe a little panicked. "You don't?"
"Not really," I said, trying to decipher his tiny note of hysteria.
"Oh," he said, disappointment rampant in his voice. Why did boys have to be so
complicated? "So, ready to get this show on the road?" he asked, passing me his yearbook
and attempting to reestablish our lighthearted fun. "We only have about 20 minutes before
the party's over and I'm not sure that's going to be enough time to finish signing your
yearbook."
Edward always took his yearbook signing so seriously. Perhaps it was a byproduct of
being a yearbook teacher's son, or just one of his many quirks. "Yep. Let's do this thing."

June 6, 2003

My dearest Hermione,

This has been a year of ups and downs for me. Our break-up was, without a doubt, the most wretched

and horrible week of my life. And yet, it led to the best moment of my existence to date – when you

uttered the three words I most wanted to hear.

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I love you.

I believe Albus Dumbledore summed it up best when he said,

"If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as

your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even

though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin."

I know our circumstances are quite different. After all, neither of us is dead and you are certainly

not my mother (thank God), but the principle is the same. Every time I catch you looking at me a certain

way or you murmur my name with a quiet admiration, with every touch and every kiss, that invisible

mark you have left on me grows even deeper.

And when you tell me you love me, my heart feels as if it is going to explode because you say it with

such genuine sincerity that I know it has to be true.

I can not find it within me to regret anything that has happened in the past year, because it has led us

to where we are today. I feel closer to you than ever before and my faith in us is stronger because of

the events that brought us here.

Words can not express how much I love you.

Sincerely,

Your Harry Potter (aka: Swirl)

Edward,

For most, freshman year is about finding where they belong in a new school and getting a
glimpse of what the future holds.

I'm the lucky one. I've always known that I belong with you. And even though I don't
necessarily think of the specifics (like crow's feet and drooping), I know that you are my
future.

I love you,
Bella

P.S. I appreciate the effort, really I do. But Harry Potter and Hermione Granger do NOT end up
together. Clearly, Ron loves Hermione and she loves him back. How could you think otherwise?

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 Chapter 18: The First Time She Knew He Was Missing Something

It was the day before the two-year anniversary of the day we met, and Edward and I
were lounging on his back porch, once more soaking up the last bit of sunshine Forks had to
offer. We had already started our sophomore year of school, and I loved Saturdays like this
when we could laze around, enjoying each other's company. We weren't talking, not really
anyways. My head was in his lap, and he was softly brushing my hair with his fingers as he
read aloud from Pride and Prejudice.
" 'I certainly have not the talent which some people possess,' said Darcy, 'of conversing easily with
those I have never seen before. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns,
as I often see done.'
" 'My fingers,' said Elizabeth, 'do not move over this instrument in the masterly manner which I see
so many women's do,' " Edward read, raising his octave to adopt a women's cadence. I loved it
when he did voices, especially female. Swirl's voice as a girl's voice – it made me giggle (and
it rhymed).
"Darcy smiled and said, 'You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one
admitted to the privilege of hearing you can think anything wanting. We neither of us perform to strangers.'"
Not even the fact that Pride and Prejudice was required reading for our sophomore year
could make me not love this book, especially considering how Edward would look down at
me whenever he read a particularly squeal-worthy line of Darcy's, or how his tongue would
curl around the words like a soft spoken caress. Damn, Edward's tongue. I loved his tongue.
Edward could be blind, deaf, or mute as long as he still knew how to use his tongue. He was
truly talented. The way he dipped and rolled set my spine tingling, drove me to the point of
ecstasy, and when I closed my eyes all I could see was stars.
Yeah, Edward was a great kisser.
" 'Elizabeth looked at Darcy to see how cordially he assented to his cousin's praise.' And then
Mr. Darcy threw an apple at Lizzie's head and told her to pay attention."
"Hmm? What was that last part?" I asked.
"You're not paying attention."
"Of course I am."
"I think I've known you long enough to tell when you aren't. What were you thinking
about?"
"Your tongue." We'd been going out far too long to be shy about these things.
He closed the book and set it aside. "Oh, really now?"
"Really," I said.
He leaned down and I readied myself for another perfect kiss with the boy I loved.
My heart pounded harder, as it always did in such moments, and my eyes closed. Just before
he reached my mouth, though, he hesitated. "I have a surprise for you," he whispered, his
lips brushing mine.
"The surprise regards your tongue, right?" I sat forward in an attempt to press our
lips together, but he laughed and stood up, pulling me along and leading me down to the
mossy forest that surrounded his house. This was not a good idea. In fact, it was a very bad
idea. As if I weren't enough of a safety hazard to begin with, I was wearing flip-flops, not the
best attire for an afternoon frolicking in the forest. "It's not far away, I promise," he said.

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"However, I will have to insist that you wear this." A bright red and white bandanna was in
his hand.
"What would possess you to think I'd ever wear that?" I crinkled my nose.
"Bandannas went out of style in eighth grade."
He turned me around and tied the cloth over my eyes. "It's so you can't see the
surprise, silly girl. Trust me. I won't let go until we're there." I wouldn't have allowed anyone
else in the world to blindly guide me into a forest, but the strength of Edward's warm hand
reassured me that he would never let me fall.
We walked a short distance, Edward muttering directions so I didn't hurt myself as
he steered me through the trees and uneven terrain. When we arrived at our destination, he
stopped me from yanking off the bandanna. "Give me a minute to explain something before
I show you," he said, holding both my hands now.
I didn't like not knowing where I was or what was going on, but Edward clearly
wanted this to be special. "Okay." I gave his hands a squeeze.
"It's coming up on two years since we met," he said, "and yet I still remember every
detail of that day with perfect clarity. There was never a doubt in my mind that you were The
One–"
"Really? Not even when I went all Barbie doll and started dressing like Alice
Brandon?" I'd always been curious on this point. He had thoroughly ignored me after my
mini-transformation and, in my opinion, acted like an unmitigated douche until I changed
back.
"Nope, I didn't doubt it even then," he said.
"I wish I could see the look on your face right now so I could tell if you're lying."
He chuckled lightheartedly. "I'll admit you did have me worried for a couple days.
You wore so much make-up I thought I'd never get to see this again." He released one of my
hands to brush a finger over my cheek; it warmed to the soft touch. "But no matter. You
found your way back to me, and if you hadn't, I would have worked around it. Even with
that ghastly make-up, you were still more beautiful than every girl in school."
My eyes rolled before I remembered he couldn't see it. "Eye roll," I mumbled and he
laughed.
"Anyways, when we were first getting to know each other, I asked you what you
missed most about living outside of Forks. Do you remember what you told me?"
After wracking my brain for a few moments, I came up empty. "Not having to do
the dishes every night?"
"You said you missed Autumn."
"That doesn't make sense. We have Fall in Forks," I said, trying to recall that
conversation. I should have known Edward would never forget something about me, even
when I had forgotten it about myself.
"That's what I said at the time. But then you pointed out that even in Autumn,
everything remains green in Forks or turns an ugly brown. What you missed were the colors
of Autumn, the way the leaves would change to the most brilliant shades of orange and red
and how perfectly they would fall at the peak of their life."
"I was very articulate for a twelve year old."
"You were thirteen at this point."
"Whatever."
He lifted the handkerchief from my eyes, and I gasped at the sight in front of me. He
had led me to a small clearing in the forest, but it didn't look like we were in Forks,

  132  
Washington, anymore. It felt like we had stepped through a magical wardrobe into a
different world. The entire floor of the clearing was littered with leaves – piles and piles of
leaves. Not the nettled leaves one would normally find on the Olympic Peninsula, but rather
Fall leaves in perfect shades of red, orange, and yellow. It was almost as if every leaf in
Washington had fallen lightly to the ground at the pinnacle of its ripeness and floated to this
one place.
All of this was eclipsed, though, by an easel in the middle of the foliage with a large
portrait placed upon it. I stumbled through the colorful mounds, my eyes aching to take in
every detail of the beautiful painting up close. Edward had painted us, in this moment, the
Fall leaves surrounding us as I looked at a portrait and he stood a few steps behind
observing the scene.
It wasn't the way Edward had flawlessly contrasted the myrtle green of the trees with
the reds and yellows of Fall or how he captured the blush on my cheeks perfectly without
making me look like a tomato that held my attention so thoroughly. It was the look in his
eyes. It was the look of a thirsty man searching for water or a voyager seeing home for the
first time in a year. It was raw and passion and love and adoration, and I was speechless
because he was looking at me like that.
My eyes welled with tears as I turned to face Edward. He loved me with all his heart
and soul, put everything he had into creating this for me, and I was completely and utterly
spellbound. "H-how?" I asked.
He ran a hand through his hair. Briefly, the thought crossed my mind how flawlessly
the shade of Edward's hair would blend with the surrounding colors if he was sprawled out
amongst the leaves… naked. "I, uh, met a kid from Colorado," he said, nervous for some
incomprehensible reason, "in my LotR RPG forum. And I paid him to rake up and ship out
all the leaves that had already fallen down at his ranch…"
"No, I meant how did you become such a good artist?"
He looked surprised by my question at first, then a smirk stretched onto his face
(which I had a sudden desire to lick). "What? You're saying I wasn't a good artist before?"
"You know what I mean. It's always been doodles and sketches and stuff. But this," I
turned back to the portrait, "this could go in a museum."
The leaves crunched under his feet as he walked up behind me. He placed his arms
around my waist and his chin on my shoulder. "Well, I'm no da Vinci, but I was kind of
hoping we could put it up in your bedroom for now. And then one day, I think it will make a
lovely addition to our bedroom."
I hummed my agreement as he placed a soft kiss on my neck. I always loved it when
he talked about our future like it was a sure thing.
"And so," he said between kisses, "when we leave here in a couple hours–"
"A couple hours? It's going to get cold."
"Trust me, I have no intention of letting you get cold." Goosebumps rose on my
arms that had nothing to do with the weather. "As I was saying before your rude,
unnecessary objection," he said, a smile in his voice, "when we leave here in a couple hours,
I will be more than happy to take down that one poster in your bedroom and replace it with
this."
"Edward Cullen, you wouldn't happen to be talking about my Harry Potter poster,
would you?"
"Well, I personally think that this will go much better with the color scheme in your
bedroom."

  133  
 I whipped around to face him. He had a broad smile and a twinkle in his eye. "You
better be careful, buddy, or I'll keep that Harry Potter poster for when we move in together."
"You wouldn't dare," he said in a mockingly dangerous voice.
"Oh, I think I would," I said in the same tone, taking a step away from him.
"Would not." He took a step toward me.
"Oh, I totally would." I stepped back again.
"Would not." This time when he stepped forward, a predatorial gleam that made me
lose all train of thought settled in his eyes. What were we arguing about again? He pounced
then, and I dodged him in an incredibly graceful move I didn't know I had in me. That was,
until I slipped on some leaves and fell down to the ground.
Edward burst out into laughter as I stood and tried to shake the leaves loose of my
clothing. "The-the l-look on your f-face..." He pointed at me, his hand shaking with the
beats of his laughter.
Without thinking, I grabbed a handful of leaves off the ground and threw it at him.
He stopped laughing immediately, shocked, I'm sure, that the leaves had managed to hit him
straight in the face. I only had time to register how cute he looked with little twigs in his hair
before he lunged again.
He just managed to miss me and I made to run for the opening in the trees. He easily
caught up and grabbed my wrist. "And where are you going, little girl?"
In response, I forcefully jerked my arm from his hand and it actually gave way. He
lost his balance and produced a rather loud, high-pitched yelp as he fell backwards into the
leaves.
"Oh my God! You screamed like a girl!" I reached down for another handful of
leaves.
"I will have you know, I have a very manly scream," he said, leaping out of the leaves
and charging toward me before I had the chance to throw more at him.
He knocked me down to the ground with him, making sure that he got the brunt of
the hit, before rolling over on top of me and saying, "Tell me I have a manly scream."
"Never!" I squealed in delight.
"Tell me I have a manly scream or else!"
"Or else, what?"
He glanced down to my lips and became serious. "Say it or else I won't kiss you."
"Then I wouldn't dare say it," I said.
"You don't want me to kiss you?"
"If there's one thing I know about Edward Anthony Cullen, it's that he could never
resist the chance to kiss me," I said. "I'll bet my life savings that I won't have to wait another
ten seconds before you give in."
He seemed to have a brief internal debate, wherein his eyes flickered between my
eyes and my mouth. "Damn it, you're right." He bent down to kiss me.
"Seriously though," I said, pulling away, "how did you get so good at painting?"
He smiled that amazing crooked smile – the one he reserved only for me – and said,
"I've been working on that portrait for the past two years. I think it would be more shocking
if it wasn't any good."
I giggled at his response, feeling content and confidant and loved with his body
weight settled so satisfactorily on mine, and I didn't stop him this time when he expertly
dipped his head and nudged apart my lips.
Yep. My boyfriend had an amazing tongue.

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 Sophomore year of high school was going much better than the previous year. For
starters, Edward and I had several more classes together. And not being a freshman came
with certain privileges, like not having the animosity of the entire upper class focused solely
on us. Instead, I was finding it rather fun to join in.
"Ugh. How much do you hate freshmen?" I asked as Edward and I walked the aisles
of the town pet shop. We were looking for mice, a mandatory purchase for our biology class.
"Might I point out that you were a freshmen not long ago?" he asked.
"Look, as an official sophomore in high school and at the age of almost fifteen, I can
admit with absolute conviction that I was a complete and total moron in my youth."
"In your youth?" Edward said, amused. "You talk like you're ninety years old."
"I just mean, I can't imagine how annoying I came off to other people if I acted half
as idiotic as the new freshmen do. They are so irritating! They walk around the school as if
they own the place."
"Yes. I am disappointed they've infiltrated our favorite, uh, studying spot," he said. "I
have some fond memories from behind that soda machine."
"Exactly. No respect whatsoever," I said.
Arriving at the mouse aisle, we started collecting the necessary supplies we'd need to
keep our mice functioning – food, cage, thermos, etcetera. For our project in Biology, we'd
need two mice to conduct experiments on over the next quarter. Soon, all that was left was
to pick out which of the little critters we wanted.
I peered into the glass where dozens of them were running around. "Oh, look at
them! They are so cute!"
"You think these things are cute?" Edward asked, frowning.
"Of course they are!" I scoured the cage, trying to decide which ones I wanted.
"Don't you?"
When he didn't answered, I looked up. He had a slight scowl on his face. "They're
very… dirty."
I laughed at his expression. "Aw, Edward. Are you afraid of the itty, bitty, dirty
mice?"
"No, I'm not afraid," he said. "But that doesn't mean I want to touch them."
"Really? 'Cause I think you're a little scaredy cat. Which is ironic, seeing as these are
mice. Get it?"
Edward smiled. "Can you just pick the ones you want so we can get out of here?"
"All right. Know that I still love you even if you are a scaredy cat."
"I'm not–"
"Shh! Don't break my concentration. I'm trying to decide here." I looked intently at
the large cage for about a minute or so, before picking out the two I knew would be perfect
for us. Edward cringed as I fearlessly stuck my hand in the cage and pulled out an adorable
little, white mouse with light grey spots. "This shall be Miss Elizabeth Bennet," I said,
putting the tiny mouse into the cage Edward was holding. "And this," I pulled out a second
larger, black mouse, "shall be Mr. Darcy."
Edward shook his head. "Nope. You remember what Mr. Banner said: All the mice
have to be the same gender to prevent rodent offspring."
"Oh, stop being so dramatic. They are the same gender, see?" I pointed to a sign that
read, Female Mice - $5.
"You're going to name a girl mouse Mr. Darcy?"

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 "What's wrong with that? It's not as if she knows she's got a man's name. And it has
a certain dramatic flair, don't you think?"
Edward, clearly amused, said, "I love you. But don't think you're going to touch me
again until after you've thoroughly washed your hands."
My head jerked back at his insolence. "You are such an arse! How dare–"
"Yo! Edward, buddy!" a voice called from down the aisle, saving Edward from the
verbal beating I was about to impart. We both turned to find the hulking figure of Emmett
McCarty walking toward us. "I haven't talked to you in ages!" he said when he reached us.
"What have you been up too? Kicking anyone's ass at school lately?"
"Unless you mean kicking ass with my grades, then no," Edward said. "I haven't had
the need to."
"What did I tell you man? Legendary." Emmett waggled his eyebrows and punched
Edward on the shoulder. I was thoroughly confused.
"Have you met my girlfriend, Bella?" Edward asked. I got the feeling he wanted to
change the subject.
"I've seen her around." Emmett held out his hand. "It's nice to officially meet you,
Bella."
"You, as well." I shook his hand firmly and noted Edward's cringe at my unwashed
hand. It wasn't often I got to see Edward interact with other friends. I hadn't even known he
and Emmett were on a first name basis. It was fascinating. "Are you here to pick up your
mice for Biology?"
"Sure am." Emmett grabbed a cage from the shelf behind him and unceremoniously
picked two mice at random. "Rose refuses to touch the cute, little critters. Such a girl," he
said with a fond smile.
Edward looked offended. "They're dirty."
"So are a lot of things," Emmett said, an added snicker keeping it lighthearted.
"Have you decided what you're going to name them?" I asked, searching for a topic
of conversation that wouldn't make my boyfriend look like a pansy. So far I liked Emmett,
and I thought it'd be nice if the two of them could hang out more often.
"Yep. I'm thinking Pinky and The Brain in honor of the old-school cartoons kids
these days don't seem interested in watching."
"That's pretty much brilliant, don't you think, Edward?" I gave him a nudge of
encouragement.
"Sure," Edward said slowly. "Though, I'm not sure I get it. Pinky and The Brain?"
"Dude, don't you watch TV?"
"I prefer books," said Edward, notably leaving out his love for old musicals.
"But didn't you watch TV when you were a kid? It's Pinky and The Brain, man!"
Edward shrugged. "I was probably making paper airplanes with my dad the day it
was on. Now that is a lost form of art, one that is too often overlooked."
Emmett hesitated. "And the saddest part of that sentence is that I can't tell if you're
joking or being completely serious."
I felt a pang of annoyance at that statement. Sure, Edward was a little socially
awkward, but if Emmett was making fun of my boyfriend, I would kick him so hard his balls
would fall off. I didn't care if he was three times my size.
Fortunately for him, Emmett said, "Well, anyways, I better be off. Bella, it's a
pleasure. Edward, buddy, I'll see you in Biology." He held out a fist to Edward, who again
looked at him like he was crazy. I wished Edward would suck it up and do the damn man

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thing, even if Emmett had touched some dirty mice. "Dude, don't leave me hangin' here,"
Emmett joked good-naturedly.
Edward, clearly uncomfortable, also held out his fist… but made no move to
connect it with Emmett's. It dawned on me that it might not have been the lack of hygiene
that was preventing him from proceeding with the common ritual. "You're supposed to
bump it," I whispered to him as quietly as I could.
"But why?" he whispered back.
"It's a sign of solidarity amongst brothers," Emmett said. "Here, let me show you." I
stood by awkwardly as he demonstrated a rather extravagant hand-bump-shake-thing, ending
with a sort of one-shouldered hug. Afterward, he gave one last wave goodbye, paid for his
supplies, and left.
Double-checking to make sure we had everything, and that Mr. Darcy and Miss
Elizabeth Bennet were secure in their brand new cage, we headed up to the register.
"Edward, do you ever wish you had more friends?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't be offended.
"What do you mean? I have all the friends I need. I've got my father and, I suppose,
your father too if I want to hang out with the guys. But most importantly I have you. You're
the best friend I could ever ask for."
I smiled weakly at his answer. "But don't you ever feel like you want to hang out with
guys your own age? I mean, if I didn't have Angela I think I'd miss out on a lot of stuff."
"If bumping fists and watching cartoons is what I'm missing out on, then I don't feel
I'm missing anything at all. My dad's waiting for us. We'd better hurry."
As Dr. Cullen drove us home, I reflected over the conversation we'd had with
Emmett. I had always known Edward was sort of a recluse before we met. But since he'd
obviously grown comfortable with me over the past two years, and I suppose with Angela
and my dad by default, I'd always assumed that he had relaxed around everyone else. Clearly,
I was wrong.
I wondered now what every day life was like for Edward when I wasn't around. Did
people make fun of him? Tease him? Ignore him? What would his life have been like if I'd
never come to Forks? Would he still be the same as he was in Middle School? Isolated and
lonely? My heart broke at the idea.
Something had to be done. If anything were to happen to me, I would never forgive
myself for leaving him alone and friendless.
Perhaps he didn't realize it now, but what Edward needed was a boyfriend.
Or… maybe just a friend who was a boy.

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 Chapter 19: The First Time He Made a Friend

I tore a piece of paper out of my notebook. Angela… The Sociology project is the
perfect opportunity to get Edward to meet some guys!
Waiting until Mr. Marcus, our Sociology teacher, was on the other side of the room,
I snuck the note onto Angela's desk. It was essential not to get caught; Mr. Marcus was
infamous for reading confiscated notes out loud to the entire class.
She tucked the paper under her desk and read it, still appearing as if she was paying
attention to the lesson. When Mr. Marcus turned his back to us again, she scribbled a quick
reply and covertly passed it back to me.
How do you suppose?
We have to interview three people anyway, right? Why not invite some boys to our
table for lunch to do the interviews? They can talk with Edward and presto! We've made a
love connection. I giggled quietly at my own joke. So how about it?
You don't think Edward will be mad that you're setting him up?
Who says he has to know? It's the only shot I've got at giving him a normal life. We
have to do it!
Okay, who did you have in mind?
What do you think of Emmett McCarty? He said hi to Edward and me the other day at
the pet shop. They seemed friendly.
Not sure that's a good idea, I was flabbergasted to read, Emmett and Rosalie broke up
again. Probably not the best time for Edward and him to get together.
Just a couple days ago, I'd witnessed Emmett smiling fondly at Rosalie's
squeamishness. What happened?
I'm not sure of the particulars, but I heard it had something to do with Emmett teasing her
about not touching their mice.
Did those two break-up over everything? Okay, well, what about Ben? You know him
better than most people. Do you think he'd be in
"What have we here, Ms. Swan?" Mr. Marcus pulled the paper out of my grasp with
a swift tug. "Writing notes in class?"
"Um, no," I said meekly, knowing it was already too late.
"Then this isn't something you'd mind sharing with the rest of the class?"
The other students sat forward on the edge of their seats. Angela looked like she
wanted to puke. "Please don't," I begged.
"Angela!" he read animatedly, and I felt like dying. "The Sociology project is a
perfect opportunity to get Edward to–" He stopped, his face turning a faint shade of green.
After scanning the note, he asked, "Isn't Mr. Cullen your boyfriend?"
I nodded, praying that he wouldn't read the rest for fear of "outing" Edward to the
entire school (even if he wasn't actually gay).
Mr. Marcus debated for another moment – the longest moment of my life.
"Teenagers," he grumbled, stuffing the note into his pocket. The class sagged, disappointed,
while I let out a sigh of relief. Angela and I would just have to work on our little project
later.

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 After compiling a list of male students we thought might be a good match for
Edward, and informing him that we would need to ask a few people to eat lunch with us
over the next couple of months (for purely academic purposes, of course), Angela and I set
to work. Naturally, we started with Ben Cheney. Since he and Angela were in the early stages
of developing a romantic relationship, it would have been perfect if Edward and Ben could
strike up a mutually convenient acquaintance. But then, that would have been way too easy.
Ben spent most of the lunch focused on Angela, and when he did speak to the rest
of us, it was about his favorite movie. After I admitted to having never seen Rush Hour 2
before, he regaled the entire table with a blow-by-blow recap of the film. "And then Jackie
Chan starts talking to Ricky Tan in Chinese and Chris Tucker is just standing there with this
look on his face like, 'Speak English, darn it!'"
"Yeah, I have no idea what that feels like." My elbow nudged Edward. He was busy
folding a piece of paper into an airplane, and while he did smile appreciatively at the
comment, he made no attempt to join the conversation.
"Then, Jackie Chan and Chris Tucker take on an entire salon of fighters and it's at
least twenty against two. The stunts are awesome…" Ben continued his run-through of the
movie until the end of lunch, Angela hanging on his every word.
"So, what'd you think of Ben?" I asked Edward as we walked to Biology.
"He's a nice guy and certainly passionate about Rush Hour," he said.
"Well, obsessions aren't all bad."
Edward stopped walking. "Are you kidding me? They're horrible! People should
have something better to do with their lives than sit there and fixate over a movie."
"Wait, what?"
"I'm kidding." He cracked a smile. "But seriously, he is very nice. I'm happy for
Angela. He's perfect for her." His assertion made it clear that while Ben was perfect for
Angela, he was not perfect for Edward.
The next week, we tried again. This time we were "interviewing" Eric Yorkie, who
fancied himself quite the philosopher. "People use the terms interchangeably, but the
difference between a nerd and a geek is profound," Eric said. "A nerd is someone of
academic standing, with particular interests in different intellectual fields of study. They are
often inhibited by social ineptitude."
Edward was completely ignoring the conversation, choosing instead to draw t-shirt
designs in his sketchbook. It wasn't exactly how I had imagined this whole process going.
"A geek, however," said Eric, "can be interested in a variety of niche activities, in
fandoms varying from television to books to film or computer sciences."
"What do you think of this?" Edward asked quietly, passing his notebook to me.
He'd sketched a t-shirt with the words I Prefer the Term Hobbit on the front. "It's for short
people, since they get called midgets all the time, which I think is rude."
"I like it," I said. "We should try and get it on the website by Friday."
"What'cha got there, Cullen?" Eric raised himself to get a glimpse at the sketchbook.
"Oh, it's nothing. Just something we geeks like to do in our spare time," Edward said.
"Geek? I'd always considered you more of a nerd." Noticing my boyfriend's glower,
Eric amended, "I meant that you're obviously smart, not that you're socially inept." It was
another few seconds before Edward went back to drawing, not dignifying Eric with a
response. "Or maybe you are socially inept," Eric said under his breath.
I glared at him. "Excuse me?" He better watch it or I was going to kick his sorry ass.

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 "Nothing," he said, before changing the topic to the difference between dweebs and
dorks.
That's how it went through the rest of September, into October and November.
Cynthia, Angela's freshmen mentor from last year, would sometimes join us and contribute
her own questions to our interviewees. Edward, however, tenaciously remained silent
through most of the meetings, the majority of the time choosing to re-read LotR instead of
socializing. After weeks of failed attempts at finding a connection between Edward and a
boy his age, I was feeling disheartened.
"This isn't working." I scratched Austin Marks' name off the list after a particularly
frustrating and, frankly, disgusting lunch.
"Ah, don't give up hope," Angela said, soothingly rubbing my back.
"Yeah, there's still plenty of guys out there you haven't set Edward up with," Cynthia
said.
I consulted our list. "Not that I can see."
"Well, I know this one guy," Cynthia said. "He's in my grade. He already has a lot of
friends from being on the baseball team, but he's really nice. It's worth a shot, right?"
"Oh, really? Who's that?" I reconsidered the boys on my list, not paying much
attention to her. There had always been something about Cynthia that irked me, something I
couldn't quite put my finger on; I was hardly interested in anyone she was friends with.
"His name is Jasper Whitlock."
My notebook tumbled to the table with a loud thud. "You know Jasper?"
"We had some classes together last year. I'm sure he'd be willing to help out with
your little social experiment if I asked him."
I mulled this over. Jasper was suave and popular and already had a ton of friends. I
didn't see any future for a friendship between him and Edward. But I couldn't let the
opportunity to interview the only known guy to ever reject Alice f-word Brandon pass me
by. "Let's do it. How's next Monday?"
"Sure," Cynthia said. "I'll ask him."
"Great!" Angela said. "I must admit, I won't mind listening to that Southern accent
for an hour."
"Jasper has an accent?" Cynthia asked.
Wow. She really wasn't the quickest broom on the Quidditch field, was she?

Edward contributed my excitement for Monday's approach to the fact that our mice
were performing marvelously during our Biology experiments. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had
somewhat learned to tell time and could deftly make her way through an obstacle course
(thanks to the positive reinforcement of cheese). Mr. Darcy wasn't doing quite as well, but
her cleaning habits were very interesting to observe nonetheless and had gotten us an A+ on
our last essay.
The real reason for my excitement when Sunday rolled into Monday was Jasper.
What were his exact thoughts during his first encounter with Alice f-word Brandon? Did he
still have any of the love notes she had written to him (I would have literally paid to get my
hands on one of those)? Had she ever snuck into his bedroom? Inquiring minds wanted to
know.
"You seem anxious," Edward said.

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 "Do I?" We were already five minutes into lunch and Cynthia and Jasper hadn't
shown up yet.
"Yes. What's wrong?"
"I'm a little nervous about our interview today. It's no big deal, but this could make
all the difference to our paper."
Angela gave a nod of agreement. "Definitely. All the difference."
Edward looked between the pair of us, then let out a bark of laughter. "The two of
you are still on that?"
"What do you mean? Of course we're still on it. The paper isn't due until the end of
semester."
"Yeah, but according to Mr. Marcus you met your interview quota after talking with
the third student," he said.
"You talked to Mr. Marcus?"
He nodded. "Which means you've either taken an extreme interest in your
schoolwork, you've decided that you want a new boyfriend, or you've been attempting to
find a suitable friend for yours truly."
"How'd you figure it out?" I asked, dazed. We'd been thoroughly covert about our
mission.
"It took me about a month," Edward said, "but you gave it away by asking me how I
felt about each person after lunch. And then this," he pulled a folded piece of paper out of
his wallet and handed it to me, "confirmed it."
I opened the paper and my face flooded with color as I read, Angela… This Sociology
project is the perfect opportunity to get Edward to meet some guys…
"Mr. Marcus gave this to you?" I asked. "That little leech! Isn't that against student-
teacher confidentiality or something?"
Edward laughed. "Last time I checked, there's no such thing as student-teacher
confidentiality, especially when it comes to notes passed in class."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because it was too fun watching you be miserable during those lunches. I mean, the
look on your face when Austin Marks attempted to blow bubbles into his chocolate milk
using his nose…" Edward trailed off, clearly overwhelmed by amusement.
"You're not mad, are you?" Angela asked.
"Nah." He waved his hand. "But you should both know that I'm fine. Honestly! I
don't need more friends than what I have now. I appreciate the concern and effort, but I'm
fine."
"This sucks," I said. "I was trying to help you out."
"I know," Edward said, giving my hand a squeeze. "But believe it or not, I do
sometimes know what's right for me. I'm fine. Promise me today will be the last one. As
much fun as it's been, I want our lunches to go back to normal."
"Sure, sure," I said. "This last one was more for me than you anyway."
Edward scowled and raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Really now?"
"There's no need to get jealous. I still find you the hottest, smartest, funniest, blah,
blah, blah, sexiest boy on the planet. I'm not planning on replacing you any time soon."
"That's sweet, honey-biscuit," Edward said.
Angela grimaced. "Honey-biscuit?" she mouthed.
I shrugged. Edward had his quirks and I was still basking in the disappointment of
our failed experiment to think much of it.

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 "At least we'll ace our paper," she reasoned. "And here come Cynthia and Jasper."
Perking up immediately, I dropped Edward's hand and grabbed my pencil. "Hi,
Jasper!" I said enthusiastically.
"Hello," he said, taking a seat directly across from me. "Edward, Angela," he added.
"Sorry we took so long," Cynthia said. "The lunch line was madness."
"It's all right." I was anxious not to waste the little time we had left. "So how'd the
two of you meet?"
"English Lit last semester," Jasper said, taking a bite of his sandwich.
"And is there anything romantic going on between you?" Angela asked. I couldn't
help but smile at her nerve.
"No, definitely not." Cynthia momentarily flashed her eyes in Eric Yorkie's direction.
Ew. "We bonded over a mutual dislike for my little sister."
"I didn't know you had a little sister. Who is it?" I asked.
"She's in your grade, actually," Cynthia said. "Alice Brandon."
"Alice Bandon is your sister?"
"Shh!" Cynthia said. "It's not like I go around publicizing it."
I turned to Edward to see if this news surprised him, but he seemed completely
uninterested in the conversation, instead smiling contentedly as he fiddled with a strand of
my hair.
"I don't blame you," Jasper piped up. "A sister like yours is a skeleton I would try
keeping in the closet."
"She's dreadful," Cynthia said. I felt sorry for her, but was thrilled to finally figure
out why I never liked her.
"She's possibly the most annoying person I've met," Jasper said.
"She doesn't even count as a whole person!" Cynthia said. "She's so tiny she only
counts as half. Practically a midget, in my opinion."
Jasper laughed. "I agree! Only, I prefer the term hobbit."
Total silence fell over the table. Cynthia and Angela were gaping at Jasper. Edward
had been midway through lifting a forkful of food to his mouth and had utterly frozen at the
statement. As it was, Jasper seemed at a loss as to why we were all suddenly staring at him.
"I'm sorry," I said. "What did you say?"
"Uh, I said that I preferred the term hobbit," Jasper said tentatively. "It's a Lord of the
Rings reference. Hobbits are short people."
"You're a fan of Lord of the Rings?"
"Well, yeah. But I actually stole the saying off a t-shirt. I'm not that original. It's from
this great website–"
"Are you talking about MyT-Spot.com?" I said in disbelief.
Jasper looked surprised. "You know of it?"
"We don't know of it. We own it!" I squealed. "Edward and I run the whole website.
The shirt you're talking about, Edward designed it!"
"No way!" He was as excited as I was.
"I'm not kidding!" I reached into Edward's bag and pulled out his sketchbook (as he
hadn't moved a muscle since this astonishing turn of events). I turned to the page with the
design and handed it to Jasper. "See? Isn't that crazy?"
"Man, I love your designs," Jasper told Edward. "We use them almost exclusively at
Arwen-Undomiel.com."
Edward's fork clattered to his plate. "You work for A-U?"

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 "I don't work for it. I run it."
Eyeing him skeptically, Edward did something that made me want to both giggle and
groan. "Pelin pedi i lam edhellen."
Jasper smirked. "Mae. Im gelir an le."
"Holy shit," Edward muttered under his breath.
"So you visit A-U often?"
"Only about twenty times a day," Edward said in awe. "It's my absolute favorite fan
site out there."
"That's insane! What're the chances of this happening? We should affiliate. I fucking
love your shirts. Not only are the designs awesome, but they're quality merchandise. I mean,
where else can you find a 100% cotton tee with some actual weight behind it on the net?
Plus, they're sold at competitive prices!"
Edward looked like he was about to wet himself. "We have a deal with a
manufacturer and buy them wholesale. But never mind that, what did you think about the
last movie?"
"I hated it." Jasper frowned. "Don't get me started on how they destroyed Faramir's
character."
"And by Faramir, you mean Filmamir, right? He at least remains untarnished in the
books."
"Amen that. I mean, I'm not a purist or anything, but to rewrite entire characters?
Come on, Peter!"
"Who's Peter?" Angela asked me.
"Peter Jackson – he's the director of Lord of the Rings." I was slightly disgusted with
how easily I could follow their conversation.
The bell rang and Jasper collected his things. "You headed to class?" he asked
Edward.
"Yeah, Biology. Mr. Banner should Labo vi Orodruin."
Jasper laughed at whatever Edward had said. "It's on my way to Spanish. I'll walk
with you."
"Thanks," Edward said, picking up his half-eaten lunch and backpack. "As film
Boromir would say: None of us should wander alone, you least of all."
Jasper chuckled and picked the quote up where Edward left off. "I know you suffer,
I see it day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly? There are other ways, Frodo,
other paths to Biology we might take. "
"I know what you would say, and it would seem like wisdom, but for the warning in
my heart." Edward dumped his trash. "There is no other way. "
"I ask only for the strength to defend my people!" Jasper yelled dramatically as the
two exited the cafeteria without a glance back at Angela, Cynthia, and I.
The three of us looked at each other for a few seconds, amazed at what we had just
witnessed, and then, simultaneously, we began laughing. "Nicely done, Cynthia!" I said,
warming to the girl (despite her Brandon ties) and giving her a high five. "And extra points
for getting a Lord of the Rings geek! I didn't realize Jasper had that in him!"
"Neither did I!" she said. "I always thought that Jasper was hella cool! Turns out he's
as nerdy as Edward is!"
My smile was replaced by a scowl. "Excuse me, but Edward is not a nerd." Cynthia
looked perplexed. "He is a geek. There's a difference."

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 The whole school was buzzing about how Jasper Whitlock, baseball superstar and
golden-boy extraordinaire, had befriended Edward Cullen (who was mostly known for
wearing a Harry Potter costume to last year's Valentine's Day dance). Jasper had taken up
residence at our lunch table over the past week, and the gossip was running rampant.
Some people guessed Edward had paid Jasper to hang out with him, others thought
Edward was doing Jasper's homework, but anyone who truly watched couldn't deny that
Edward and Jasper were having a blast. I hoped it would diffuse the rumors soon. I was
becoming self-conscious of my eating habits with the eyes of the entire cafeteria focused on
our table.
"I was thinking of setting up a private forum on A-U," Jasper said, huddling over a
notebook where he and Edward were brainstorming ideas for his LotR fansite. "Ringers
only. The problem is I don't know how to differentiate between hardcore fans and folks who
are casually browsing."
"You could make a test," Edward suggested. "In order to register, they have to pass a
challenge. It can be as simple as, 'pedo mellon a minno.' Ringers will easily know what to do."
"I don't get it," Cynthia said, desperate to be a part of their conversation.
"It means, 'Speak, friend, and enter,'" Jasper said. "You just have to type in the
Elvish word for friend, and then you can enter the site."
"Oh, I like that!" Cynthia said. "I remember that part from the movies. Frodo figures
it out and opens the door to the mines."
Jasper and Edward both gave her a placating, half-cringing smile before turning back
to the notebook. "Maybe include a provision that the Ringer has to know who actually
figured the riddle out," Edward muttered and both boys chuckled quietly.
Even while talking to Jasper, Edward held my hand tightly, reminding me that
though he had a new friend, he was still mine… my own… my precious.
I wrinkled my nose at the turn my thoughts had taken. It was great that I wouldn't
have to deal with Edward's love for LotR on a day-to-day basis anymore; it was starting to
bleed into my everyday vocabulary. Edward now had Jasper for Lord of the Rings. I had
Angela for Harry Potter. And we had each other for stimulating conversation and the very
pleasant make-out sessions that mostly took place inside the Cullen's movie room.
Everything was good.
It took a few weeks, but the school chitchat finally turned from my boyfriend's
developing friendship with Jasper to what everyone's plans were over Christmas break. So
far, my own plans looked promising. I had the Midnight Showing of Return of the King this
upcoming Friday (which I was, oh, so thrilled about) and I planned on spending quality time
with my boyfriend throughout the rest of the break.
Not that Edward was ignoring me or anything, but the introduction of Jasper into
his life meant that his time was split between us now. As I normally had his undivided
attention, learning how to share Edward was taking some getting used to. But I considered it
a fair trade off, seeing how happy he was.
When the bell rang on our last day of classes before the break, I immediately rushed
off to the Biology room to collect Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. I had grown
attached to them over the past few months and, upon securing Charlie's half-hearted
permission, had decided to keep the little critters as pets. "Hello, Miss Elizabeth Bennet and
Mr. Darcy," I said to the cage, picking it up. "Are you ready to come home with me? You're
going to like your view. It overlooks a tree."

  144  
 I turned to walk out of the classroom. Alice f-word Brandon was standing so
frighteningly close to me that I screamed and dropped the cage. "Don't sneak up on people
like that!" I yelled, grasping at my chest. The top of the cage had popped off when it collided
with the ground, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet had escaped under the teacher's desk. I got on
my hands and knees to find her. "A little help would be nice."
"There is absolutely no way I'm touching that disgusting creature," Alice said.
"Fine. But can you at least close the damn door so she doesn't escape?"
Once the door was closed, Alice turned back to me. "You're probably wondering
what I'm doing here."
"Are you joking? I've been expecting this ambush for weeks. I'm shocked you didn't
hit me up for Jasper-info sooner."
She seemed flabbergasted that I was onto her game. "This is the first time I could get
you alone," she admitted.
"Well, personally, I'd prefer to have this conversation standing up." I took another
swipe under the desk and caught something furry: A dust bunny. Ew. "The sooner I catch
Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the sooner I talk."
Alice crossed her arms. "I saw the rodent run under the filing cabinet."
"Thank you." I crawled over to the corner to peek under the cabinet. Sure enough, I
could see a little white tail poking out.
"Can you hand me some of those textbooks?" I pointed to a shelf near the window.
"I have to block the exits so she doesn't run again." Alice didn't look pleased but did as I
asked anyway. I liked having this power… maybe too much. "So, you're still hung up on
Jasper, eh?" I asked, carefully setting down the textbooks.
"We're soul mates," she said. "He just doesn't know it yet."
"That must really suck." I swiped at Miss Elizabeth Bennet and caught her by the
tips of my fingers. She was a tricky little mouse; that's why I loved her so much.
"Yeah, it does. Maybe we could talk about it over coffee?"
"You want to get… coffee? With me?"
"Yeah, Starbucks has these comfy chairs. You can literally sit in them and talk for
hours. You know, I could tell you about something. And then you can tell me about
Edward."
"And Edward's friends," I said.
"Exactly!"
I dropped Miss Elizabeth Bennet into her cage and closed the lid tightly. "No, thank
you."
"No really, we could be friends," she insisted.
"Why? So you can use me to spy on Jasper? Yeah, right." I picked up the cage and
headed towards the door.
"Wait!" she grabbed my sleeve.
"Alice, we are not friends. We will never be friends," I said, yanking my arm away.
"And I'm not spilling Jasper's secrets to you."
"I just want to know how you did it." There was something akin to desperation in
her eyes. "How you got him to be your friend."
"You know my boyfriend? Edward Cullen?"
"Of course I know Edward."
"Do you remember on Valentine's Day in eighth grade how you told him he was
boring? Convinced him I wouldn't want to be with him because he was too vanilla?" The

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way her eyes couldn't meet mine told me she remembered. "Well, how about this? Jasper
thinks you're too much like Rocky Road: potholed, artificially sweetened, and most
importantly," I dropped to a whisper, "he thinks you're nuts."
"Ha-ha, Bella. How long did it take you to come up with that one?"
I smiled sweetly, then exited the room. I walked the halls as quickly as I could while
carrying the mouse cage. After my confrontation with Alice, I was ready to find Edward and
get the hell out of this school. Finally, I found him and Jasper talking near the gym lockers. I
smiled at the two boys – thick as thieves, they were.
"I'll pick you up around four tomorrow," Jasper was saying. "You'll be dressed and
ready to go?"
"Yep. My costume's already laid out. How's yours coming along?"
"Faramir's a hard character to replicate and I want it to be as authentic as possible,
considering how they destroyed him in the last movie."
"I have faith in you, but let me know if you need any help."
"I will. Mára aurë, Bella." Jasper gave me a nod as I walked over to stand next to
Edward. I smiled back pleasantly, though I felt a pinch of irritation I couldn't quite put my
finger on. "Well, I'll let you two love birds at it. Call me later."
"Calo anor na ven." Edward said, bowing to Jasper.
"Nai haryuvalyë melwa rë," Jasper responded, bowing back. This was, in Edward's
opinion, a much more civilized parting than pounding fists. I thought it was funny.
"I've missed you," Edward said, leaning in for a kiss. "Our last class always feels like
the longest, since I don't get to see you."
"You say that everyday," I said.
"And every day you feel the need to remind me that I say that every day. And then I
remind you that I say it every day because it's true."
I laughed. "Okay, enough with this. We need to come up with a new afternoon
greeting for next semester. Something a bit more original, I think."
"Deal," Edward said. "May I carry that for you?" He nodded towards the mouse
cage.
"I appreciate the valiant offer, but I got it. Wouldn't want you to get infected by all
the mouse germs," I said. He noticeably didn't argue. Throughout our entire Biology project
he had managed to never once touch the cage or the mice. I found that quite impressive. "Is
Jasper coming to the Midnight Showing with us tomorrow night?"
"With us?" Edward said. "I thought you wouldn't want to go, you know, with your
LotR hating ways and general support of Harry Potter."
I was a little surprised at his assumption. We had never discussed it before, but I'd
always thought the Midnight Showings were kind of our thing. "Well, yeah, but we've gone
the last two years together."
"You hated it."
" 'Hate' is a strong word…"
He chuckled. "I appreciate so much that you're willing to sacrifice your time to make
me happy. But I don't want to go down that road again if it's going to result in another
episode like last year."
"Oh." I cringed at the mention of that horrible week when we had broken up.
"But it's all right because I have Jasper now for this kind of stuff."

  146  
 I gave him a small smile, not completely sure of why this was bothering me so much.
"Okay, you have fun with Jasper. I guess it'll be Mr. Darcy, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and me
tomorrow night for another viewing of Pride and Prejudice."
"Speaking of that, have you noticed that Mr. Darcy is looking hefty around the
middle area?" he said, pointing inside the cage towards the black mouse.
She was getting wider, but I couldn't fault her for having a healthy appetite. "What's
wrong with a woman having some weight on her?"
"It's not that. It's… are you sure both mice are female?"
"They came from the female cage. You were there," I said.
Edward sighed and kissed my forehead. "I hope you haven't grown too attached to
her. We may have to take her back to the pet store."
"Why?" I tightened my grip on the cage.
"Because I think Miss Elizabeth Bennet may have impregnated Mr. Darcy."

As it turned out, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was indeed a mister and had thoroughly
knocked-up Mr. Darcy, who was very close to having her litter now. The pet shop
apologized profusely for their mistake, but it was already too late. Charlie outright refused to
allow me to keep the expecting mouse, and the next day Edward held my hand as I said a
tearful goodbye and wished her the best of luck with her little family.
"At least you still have Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Edward said, hugging me as Charlie
walked out the door with my pet.
"It won't be the same without her," I said into his shoulder.
"I love that you care so much about even the smallest creatures."
I sniffed. "That's not really true. I could do without so many spiders in the world."
Edward dried my eyes with a handkerchief he carried in his back pocket, as Carlisle
pulled up in my driveway. Edward smiled sympathetically. "Are you going to be okay if I
leave?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine. I have plenty to do tonight," I lied. "Go make yourself into the
best-looking Aragorn replica imaginable and have fun with Jasper. I expect you to win the
costume contest!"
"I'll bring you back the prize." He pecked me on the lips. "I'll see you tomorrow and
tell you all about it."
"I look forward to it." I waved goodbye as he walked to his father's car, then headed
to the kitchen where I commenced in the one activity I felt would be both productive and
therapeutic: Cooking. I felt like one of the spaghetti noodles boiling in the blisteringly hot
vat of water.
"Everything went fine at the pet shop," Charlie said, walking into the kitchen. "The
mouse is in a good, safe environment to have her litter now."
"Great," I said flatly, watching the boiling water.
Charlie dropped his keys on the counter. "Didn't you and Edward have plans
tonight?"
"I thought so."
"He didn't stand you up, did he? I'll snap his neck."
I laughed freely at that. "No, you won't. You're a giant softie now – everyone knows
it."

  147  
 Charlie grumbled something nonsensical about losing his edge and killing someone
for the sake of it. "So what happened? I paid for that stupid elf dress to get dry cleaned, why
aren't you wearing it?"
I transferred the spaghetti from the pot into the colander. "It's nothing really. I didn't
even bother to pick the dress up. Edward decided to go with–"
"Wait, let me guess… Jasper?"
"You know Jasper? Don't tell me he's working for you, too!"
"Thank God, no," Charlie crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. "Trust
me, there's already enough Jasper-talk in the office without him actually being there. Edward
never shuts up about the boy."
"Oh?" I wondered, dumping a jar of Prego sauce in with the noodles. Some of it
dripped out the holes of the colander and I remembered I was supposed to put it in a bowl
first. Oops. I blamed it on my small bout of jealousy.
"Yep. He talks so much about Jasper, Officer Stevens was beginning to think they
were a couple–"
"What!"
"Don't worry. I assured him he was still my future son-in-law and told him to shut
the hell up." People thought they were dating? A vision of Jasper and Edward kissing flashed
in my mind and I almost dropped the spaghetti.
"Still, it's always, 'Jasper this. Jasper that,'" Charlie said. " 'Jasper managed to lead us
into the Mines of Moria without waking a single orc on our RPG forum. Jasper knows
Elvish almost as well as I do. Jasper is trying to get me to join the baseball team next
semester. Jasper's designing a new–' " The doorbell interrupted his rant. Charlie pulled a
twenty out of his wallet. "That's the pizza. Do you mind getting it?"
"Dad! I made spaghetti!"
"Sometimes a man needs a back-up plan with your cooking."
"Are you kidding me right now?"
Charlie picked up the dripping colander and poured the spaghetti into the trash. "Go
get the pizza, please."
I huffed for dramatic effect, grabbed the money, strutted over to the door, and
yanked it open with much more force than necessary. I froze when I saw who was at the
door. It wasn't the pizza boy.
"My mom asked me to drop this by since it wasn't picked up this afternoon. She's a
friend of Chief Swan." It was a pimply-faced boy I vaguely recognized as a senior from
Forks High. He was holding my silky Arwen dress – packaged in a large, clear bag – out to
me. "I'm assuming it's probably not Chief Swan's and it belongs to you?"
My lip wobbled as I looked at the blue dress. Edward had given it to me for my
fourteenth birthday, before a rather intense make-out session in the movie room where I had
accidentally touched his thing for the first time. He had told me, "I'll be your Aragorn, if
you'll be my Arwen." His voice had been so passionate and adoring that a shiver had run
down my spine.
Looking at the dress, it hit me that things would never be the same again. We were
changing, growing up. I missed childhood desperately.
"Uh, so this dress is Chief Swan's?"
"What?" I asked, jerking my transfixed gaze from the dress to the boy.
"This dress belongs to Chief Swan?"

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 "Don't be ridiculous." I took the dress delicately from him. "It obviously wouldn't fit
him, even if he was prone to wearing women's clothing."
The boy chuckled. "Fair enough."
"Thanks for dropping it off, though."
"No problem," he said, heading back to his car.
Instead of rejoining Charlie in the kitchen, I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom
and laid the dress out on the bed without the plastic covering. I took a seat in the rocking
chair that had been in the corner of my room since I was a child and observed the blue
dress, reminiscing about the times I had worn it. Edward always thought I was beautiful, but
there was something about that dress. His eyes would light up and he would tell me I was
glorious over and over again in an almost worshipful tone.
Even if I hated Lord of the Rings, I loved that moment and I felt bitter that I had been
robbed of it by Jasper. If things had gone differently, if I had never sought out a friend for
Edward, I would be getting ready for him right now. Esme would be doing my hair. I would
be putting on that dress. Edward would be with me.
"What do you think, Miss Elizabeth?" I asked the cage on my left. It seemed much
emptier without Mr. Darcy. I wasn't the only one missing my companion. "It doesn't look
quite right lying out there on the bed, does it?"
I imagined the mouse squeaked his concurrence before turning back to his supper.
"Exactly," I said, standing up to close my bedroom door. I slipped the dress over my
spaghetti-string shirt and sweats. I would only wear it for a little bit… just to remember
better.
The door to my bedroom opened and I screamed. "I'm not dressed!" Charlie would
tease me relentlessly if he saw me twirling around in my Arwen costume.
"Are you in here?" a voice that distinctly was not my father's asked at the same time.
The breath caught in my throat. Edward was standing in my bedroom doorway,
dressed in his full Aragorn costume, clearly taken aback as he registered what I was wearing.
I blushed under his scrutiny, mortified at getting caught doing something so silly.
We stood there for several moments staring at each other, before he covered the
distance between us, and placed a soft hand on my cheek. "Bella," he whispered fervently,
and I felt the meaning behind my name. Beautiful.
I raised my lips to his and kissed him all the harder for it, tangling my fingers in his
hair. He responded in kind, nipping my lips with a reverent sort of ardor. I was enjoying the
sensations so much, I almost forgot that this was very odd indeed.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, pulling away. "You're going to miss the
Midnight Showing of Return of the King!"
"I don't care," he said urgently, resting his forehead on mine. "It was wrong. All
wrong. I couldn't stand being there without you. I missed you so much."
"But Jasper–"
"Jasper is a great friend, but it wasn't the same. I left him there and took a Taxi
home."
I was horrified. "Was he mad?"
He shook his head. "Not at all. He understands that you're the sun and the moon
and the stars to me."
Edward had done so many terribly romantic things over the past few years, but none
of them had made me feel quite as special as I did right now. He might not have said it in so

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many words, but he had assured me that I was still his best friend and always would be. It
meant more to me than I could express, and I was overwhelmed to the point of explosion.
"Can you give me a minute?" I asked, stepping away from him and taking the dress
off. He seemed confused but agreed, giving my hand one last squeeze.
I headed to the living room where Charlie was sitting watching a Mariner's game.
The second I was inside the room, I put my hand over my mouth and squealed. Literally
squealed. "Oh my Godric! Can you believe he did that?"
Charlie had an amused gleam in his eye. "Are we having a moment? Shouldn't we be
painting our toenails as you tell me every intimate detail of that excessively passionate kiss he
just gave you?"
"Ugh, no. That would be gross."
"Exactly." Charlie turned back to the TV. "Keep the door open and don't let me
catch you doing anything you wouldn't want to explain to me in explicit detail." I rolled my
eyes and turned to leave. "Oh, and Bella?"
"Hmm?"
"Don't even think about pocketing that twenty."
I shot him a dirty look as I handed the pizza money back to him.
"Oh, and Bella?"
"What?"
"I'm happy I don't have to kill Edward."
"That's sweet dad."
"Oh, and Bella?"
"What now?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too." I ran out of the room before Charlie could call me a fourth time.
When I arrived back in my bedroom, Edward was fingering the silky material of my
Arwen costume. He turned towards me, his eyes reeling with regret. "I'm sorry," he
whispered. "I didn't realize…"
I shook my head and grabbed his hand. "It doesn't matter now," I told him sincerely.
I led him to the rocking chair and gently pushed him into the seat, then crawled into his lap.
I let my head rest against his shoulder, and his arms immediately encompassed me.
It was a freaking uncomfortable position, but I couldn't remember ever feeling so
warm and relaxed in my life. Like Edward needed me, I needed him.
"If we leave right now, we could probably still make it to the Midnight Showing," I
said.
"I'm happy here," he said.
I hummed my agreement, not wanting to leave anyways. "We can go tomorrow, if
you want."
"I'd like that," he said.
The noise of the TV downstairs and Miss Elizabeth Bennet running on his mouse
wheel were the only audible sounds as we let silence settle between us. I snuggled into a
more comfortable position in his lap as he contentedly stroked my hair.
Perhaps growing up wasn't so bad after all.

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 Chapter 20: The First Time He Stepped Out of His Comfort Zone

Our two-week winter break and a white Christmas followed the release of Return of
the King. I knew once Edward and I went back to school we'd have to reinvent what
"normal" was for us – a normal where Jasper was an everyday reality of my life – but for
now I was content to spend the holidays with the little family I had fashioned for myself.
Charlie and I were invited to the Cullen's for Christmas dinner, and knowing I would
one day become a permanent fixture in the Cullen's holiday plans, I tried to help Esme and
Mrs. Evans cook the holiday meal. Sadly, though, after an incident involving mashed
potatoes and a spork, I was shooed from the kitchen to join the men. I didn't mind too
much. I had years to learn and practice all of Mrs. Evan's special recipes and I'd rather have
been with Edward, anyway.
I found the men in front of the living room TV, watching an old Mariner's game
(Charlie's choice, I was sure).
"–talked to Jasper yesterday," Edward was saying. "Apparently Coach Clapp decided
to pursue a passion for art and is leaving the school's baseball team."
"Art?" Charlie scoffed.
"He does sculpting or some other form of fine art. What's unfortunate about it is
that if the school doesn't find a new coach soon, Jasper won't be able to play."
"That sucks," I said, walking into the room and sitting next to Edward on the couch.
"I know how much Jasper enjoys baseball." And how much I enjoy Jasper keeping busy, so I can
have my boyfriend to myself.
"Yes," Edward said, taking my hand with a nervous glance at Charlie. "But I'm sure
they'll find someone new."
"Bella, are you excited to start driving lessons?" Carlisle asked.
I smiled, despite not yet having a means to practice. "I can't wait to get on the road,
once we figure out the car situation." It wasn't as if I could take the cruiser for a joyride (not
that I wanted to).
"We've been dealing with a bit of that in this house as well," Carlisle said. "Edward
thought he would be learning to drive in my Mercedes. He was delusional if he thought I
would let a brand new driver get behind the wheel of a car that costs more than one hundred
and fifty thousand dollars. It's the mini-van for this one." He clapped Edward on the
shoulder sardonically.
I couldn't help but snicker at the image of Edward driving Esme's mini-van. Charlie
apparently couldn't either because he started laughing, too.
Edward glared at me. "I'm only disappointed because the Mercedes is clearly the
better chick magnet. Now I'll have to rely on my natural wit and charm to pick up the
ladies," he joked (I think).
"Oh, really?" I asked, snatching my hand back. "And what do you plan on doing with
those girls, exactly?"
Edward thought about it intently. "Suck their blood."
"You've been watching Buffy again, haven't you?"
Esme and Mrs. Evans soon called us into the dining room to enjoy the feast they had
prepared. I loved how naturally Charlie and I fit in with the Cullens. Everything was jovial
and enjoyable as we sat around, chatting and indulging in extra helpings of Mrs. Evans'

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secret recipe stuffing and homemade eggnog, and after dinner, we all opened presents
around the tree.
I had decided to do handmade gifts this year, since almost every penny I was making
from MyT-Spot was going into a college savings account. Edward had decided to do the
same, making me feel better about not spending any money. The matching hats and scarves
I had knitted (thanks to Angela's tutelage) went over swimmingly, and everyone marveled at
how amazing Edward's hand-drawn caricatures of each person were. I especially loved mine;
he had exaggerated all my best features and put a little daisy in my hair as a finishing touch.
Edward also handed me a larger box wrapped in polar bear and penguin themed
paper, an inside joke from a metaphor gone terribly wrong.
"You got me something else?" I asked, taking the box skeptically and worrying that
my little hats and scarves weren't adequate.
He shook his head. "Read the card."

Dear Bella,
Thank you for the happiness and joy you bring to Edward's life.
You are an amazing young lady and we can't wait to spend
the rest of our lives with you.
The Cullens

I read that last line again: we can't wait to spend the rest of our lives with you. It sounded
odd coming from Carlisle and Esme, but I opened the wrapping paper anyway and laughed
when I saw they had put my present inside a box originally used for a laptop. It reminded me
of Renee. She always used whatever box was lying around to wrap my presents. One time,
she had stuffed an entire shoebox full of hair accessories, and another, she had put a piggy
bank inside the Kleenex box from my bedroom.
I opened the laptop box, eager to see what was inside and my jaw may have hit the
floor when I saw it actually was a laptop. A brief internal debate took place as I stared at the
shiny, silver computer. It wasn't that my mom and dad were poor or anything; we just didn't
have a lot of money lying around. I had never gotten anything this expensive before and part
of me was saying I couldn't accept it. The other part was practically yelling how much I
wanted it. I wanted it so badly.
And anyway, wouldn't it have been rude to reject a gift given to me by my future in-
laws? It wouldn't be polite at all. If I really thought about it, it was for their benefit as much
as mine that I accepted this gift.
Esme and Carlisle looked surprised as I scrambled out of my seat and ran over to
give them each huge hugs, repeatedly telling them how thankful I was. Edward was
practically glowing – that was, until I held the laptop high in the air and announced, "You
shall be called Harry Potter, the second."
Edward scoffed. "I thought you'd want to give it a strong name, something less
generic. Edward Cullen, the second, has a certain ring to it."
"And if someone had written 'Edward Cullen' as a dreamy fictional character as
awesome as Harry Potter, I might have considered naming it after you."
Still, even Harry Potter, the second, couldn't beat what I got from Charlie. He ran
out to warm up the car as I finished saying our thank yous and goodbyes, but it wasn't a
police cruiser that pulled around the side of the house.

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 I screamed so loud everyone covered their ears.
The ancient red truck rattled loudly as it lumbered to a halt, and the giant, shiny
green bow stood out like a sore thumb across the faded hood, but this truck, as old and
decrepit as it looked, was all mine.

I had decided to call my truck Firebolt after Harry Potter's faithful broomstick. That
way I could say stuff like, "I want to ride Harry's Firebolt," and make Edward all jealous and
disconcerted over my witty innuendos. I faked innocence every time.
As school reconvened, Charlie suggested letting Edward use Firebolt for driving
lessons, too. That would save Edward the humiliation of driving a mini-van, and our three
parents could alternate lessons and teach both of us simultaneously, which was a huge time-
savor.
At least, that's how Charlie proposed it. I suspected his real motivation was that he
found great amusement in making Edward uncomfortable behind the wheel of a vehicle.
Over the past few weeks of "teaching us to drive," he'd already talked about underage
drinking, illegal substances, Internet predators, and several other subjects I expected he got
from a teen-parenting book. He had apparently skipped the chapter about the consequences
of not paying attention to the road, which Edward had a hard time doing when trying to
catch every word of my dad's speeches.
"Since I have you both in the car with me, I would like to talk to you about
something," Charlie cheerfully said during a February driving lesson. Edward was looping
around the streets near his house and I was sitting cozily between him and my father waiting
for my turn.
"What will it be today? Crossing the street without looking both ways?" I asked
passively.
"Actually, I want to speak to you about the dangers of premarital sex."
Edward hit a pothole that could have easily been avoided and we all jerked violently
at the jolt. "Sorry!" he apologized, now sitting rigidly in the driver's seat and
overcompensating by going a measly ten miles-per-hour.
"Dad!" I hissed. "Can we please not have this conversation now?"
"I've been assured by several professionals that it's essential to talk about this as
often as possible," Charlie said solemnly, though I knew he was enjoying Edward's
discomfited posture and red complexion far too much. "After all, peer pressure surrounds
you on a daily basis." Charlie's favorite new term was "peer pressure."
"Peer pressure," he said, "is everywhere. And it doesn't just come from the students
at your school. It's in the media and on the Internet…" he continued his well-rehearsed
speech about temptation, the physical and emotional costs of having sex too early, and birth
control all the way back to the Cullen's house. Edward clung to his every word.
"For my health and well-being," he concluded dramatically as we pulled into the
driveway, "I need you both to promise me that you'll stay strong and not give into the
pressures this world will place on your young shoulders."
"I won't compromise my morals," Edward said sincerely, parking next to Carlisle's
Mercedes. "I promise, Sir."
"Thank you," Charlie said. "Bella, it's your turn."
"I'm not promising anything," I said. "It's none of your business, anyway."

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 "I meant it's your turn to drive. Might I point out, though, that the beauty of this
situation is only one of you needs to promise and you both have to keep it?"
My eyes narrowed. When had my father become an evil genius? I scooted out after
Edward so we could switch seats. "Thanks a lot," I hissed in his ear. "Now we're never going
to be able to have sex."
"We were going to wait until marriage anyway." Edward made a show of bending
down to tie his shoelace so we could prolong our whispered conversation.
"Yes, but I'd still like the option if we change our minds."
Edward's eyes shot up and his mouth drooped a little. "Have you changed your
mind?"
"Does it matter?" I asked. Truthfully, I hadn't altered the decision we had made
when we were fourteen years old… yet. But who knew? I was getting older and, uh, things
were changing… physically… down there.
Edward thought about it, then shook his head. "Nope. I still want to wait. I mean, I
obviously want to. But I want it to be on our special night."
"I guess we'll–"
"What the hell are you two blabbering about?" Charlie called from the passenger
seat. "We still have another hour of driving lessons." Edward stood and climbed into the
middle seat. I hopped in after and shut the door. "Put on your seat belt and check your
mirrors." I followed his steps to getting the old truck properly warmed up.
The key had just twisted in the ignition when Charlie said, "So Edward, why don't
you tell Bella the news?" He was grinning like Peeves the Poltergeist.
"News? What news?" Edward didn't answer so I shot him a what-the-hell-is-going-
on look in the rear-view mirror.
I was trying to double-pump the clutch, when he finally spat out, "I've decided to
join the school baseball team."
"And I've decided to coach it," Charlie added gleefully.
I wasn't sure exactly what happened. All I remembered hearing was a loud THUD as
the truck rolled back and hit a large metallic object, followed by complete stillness.
"That's not exactly how I saw that going," Charlie said over the silence.
"Holy shit!" I screamed, clapping my hand over my pounding heart. "What the hell
did I hit?"
Edward confirmed my worst fear. "I think it was the side of my dad's Mercedes." He
looked out the back window. "But don't worry; it doesn't look scratched."
"It was a small bump," Charlie said steadily. "If we drive away now, Carlisle will
never know."
"Dad! We can't leave the scene of an accident. That's a hit and run!"
"Oh, Bella, it's only a hit and run if the Chief of Police isn't in the car with you," he
said with a casual wave of his arm.
"You can not be serious!"
"Of course I'm serious. I'm not going to tell, and Edward isn't going to, either. Right,
Edward?"
Edward looked like a deer caught in headlights. He glanced between the two of us
for a couple seconds – Charlie was staring at him so menacingly, I couldn't really blame him
for betraying his own father. "Of course not…"
"Way to not give into peer pressure," I said.
"He's your father."

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 "Bella has a point," Charlie said. "What if this were a real car accident? Would you let
Bella drive away from the scene because someone else told you it was fine? As a Volunteer
Deputy Sheriff, I would have expected better of you."
"Uh…" Edward looked so befuddled at the turn in conversation that I couldn't help
but laugh. I caught the subtle twitch of Charlie's mustache, and knew that he was acutely
enjoying this, as well. Poor Edward…
"But, seriously," Charlie said, raising his eyes to mine. "It's fine. Drive."

I was horrified to discover Edward and my father weren't joking about joining the
Forks High Spartans. Jasper had been trying to recruit Edward to the team for a while now,
but it was only when the baseball coach position became vacant that Edward started
seriously considering it.
"So, how did this whole baseball thing come up?" I asked him later that night. We
were curled up under a blanket in front of the giant TV in the Cullen's movie room.
"It happened after I mentioned to Chief Swan that they needed a new baseball
coach," Edward said, evasively focusing on the TV.
"Okay, that explains why my dad joined the baseball team," I said, not willing to let
him out of this conversation, "but what about you?"
"Well, Chief Swan seemed intrigued, but hesitant. I asked him why and he told me
that he loved baseball, but had no experience coaching. One thing led another, and I agreed
to join the team if he did."
What were they, girls? I bet Charlie couldn't go to the restroom unless Edward went,
too. "But why?" I asked.
"A lot of people have been asking me that lately and it's bugging the hell out of me."
He met my gaze. "I thought you of all people would be supportive."
"What do you mean by that?" I tried not to get defensive.
Edward sat up and readjusted himself on the couch so he was facing me. "Well, for
one, this is a great opportunity for Chief Swan and me to bond–"
"Why would I want you and Charlie spending even more time together?"
"And," he said as if I hadn't interrupted, "you're the one who inspired me to do this.
I didn't realize how much I was missing until you pushed me to make a friend. I'm worried
that I'm missing so much more by not opening myself up to different possibilities. I hate
that everyone is doubting me."
"It's not doubt. You've never shown the slightest bit of interest in baseball or any
other sport. This is all coming out of left field." I smirked at my own wit. "Get it? Left
field?"
Edward cracked a smile. "I get the joke, and I suppose I understand why this would
be a surprise. It still feels like everyone except Chief Swan and Jasper doubts I can do it."
His indication that Jasper was being supportive, and I wasn't, irked me. "Well, I think
you're going to be brilliant." I snuggled close to him. "And I'll be there in the stands every
day, watching you practice and cheering you on."
Mollified by my encouragement, he said, "Just knowing you support this decision is
enough. You don't have to be there every day."
"Actually I do, whether I want to or not."
"Why?"

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 "Because who's going to drive me home when both you and Charlie are at baseball
practice?"
He frowned. "I hadn't thought of that."
"But we'll pretend like I'm willingly there being the supportive girlfriend instead of
the stranded spectator."
"I like that plan, Snuggle Bunny."
I opened my mouth to question the second ridiculous nickname I had heard from
Edward, but my words were cut short by a much more pleasant activity involving lips.

"Baseball practice?" Angela repeated, puzzled.

"Yep." I put a textbook in my locker. "And he seems sensitive about the subject, so
don't appear shocked or surprised when he brings it up."
"Has Edward ever so much as picked up a bat?"
"He must have at some point – the stupid school requires us to take gym." I shut my
locker and we walked down the hall. "But even if he hasn't, Edward has a way of being good
at everything he does without trying. I have every confidence this will be no different."
"I don't think sports work like that."
"I know." At this point, I was probably more nervous than Edward. "I'll let you
know how it goes tomorrow, okay?"
"All right." Angela gave me a parting hug at the parking lot sidewalk. "I'll talk to you
then."
It was drizzling as I made my way across the parking lot to the school's baseball field.
The team was already warming up on the grass when I arrived. Edward looked so cute in his
You shall not pass! t-shirt and a pair of gym pants that made his butt look rather toned and
delicious. When he saw me, he broke from the collective team jumping jacks and waved.
"Cullen! Stop ogling the pretty girl and pay attention!" Charlie, or I should say Coach
Swan, sniped from the front of the group. Perhaps Edward was onto something when he
thought my father would make a good coach. He seemed in his element. I gave Charlie an
exaggerated eye roll and headed for the bleachers.
Our school had invested in a nice baseball stadium with plastic roofs over the stands,
so I wouldn't get soaked during rainy-day practices. I made for the top of the bleachers, far
away from the only other person who had come to watch the first practice: Alice f-word
Brandon. I assumed she was here for some afterschool Jasper-stalking. That girl was
seriously one Quaffle short of a complete Quidditch set.
Ignoring her, I settled in to watch the boy of my dreams follow his dreams.
About thirty minutes into the practice, it became abundantly clear (at least to me)
that Coach Clapp hadn't left the baseball team to pursue his art. He'd obviously left so he
wouldn't have to coach a bunch of freshmen and sophomores who didn't know which was
the right end of a bat. The team was, in a word, terrible. Charlie hadn't bothered to hold try-
outs since there had barely been enough sign-ups to put together a complete roster. Only
three on that list had any skill; they were the players returning from last season. The rest
seemed like they were as new to baseball as Edward was.
I found this to be both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing to Edward that he
wasn't the worst player on the field… or, at least, he was tied for being the worst with a
dozen other players. It was a curse to poor Charlie, who looked like he was about to pull his
mustache out in frustration.

  156  
 With every dropped ball, failed swing, or misguided pitch, Charlie grew more and
more frazzled.
"No, Connors, the mitt goes on your other hand!"
"Johnson, you're supposed to aim for the catcher, not the batter!"
"Louis is on your team, Crowley! Stop trying to tag him!"
"Bailey! Your cup is not there as a toy! Stop playing with it!"
"Cullen, pretend it's the head of an orc and smash the hell out of it," he said after
Edward had wildly missed his last pitch.
Edward nodded and repositioned himself over the plate. Charlie pitched the ball
softly to him. Edward swung with more force than necessary, missed spectacularly, and lost
his grip on the bat. I gasped as it flew out of his hands and missed hitting Mike Newton by
inches. My boyfriend may suck at baseball, but he sucked with style.
At that point, Charlie decided it might be safer to find everyone positions in the field
and strategically started placing the team members where he thought they'd be best suited. I
prayed Edward could pull it together in the field. He seemed disheartened that the batting
hadn't gone better.
I glanced absentmindedly around the stadium and blanched when I saw Alice staring
at me. She waved and smiled when I looked in her direction, grabbed her backpack, and
started up the bleachers. Was she coming up here? I grabbed a textbook from my backpack
and flung it open in my lap, hoping she'd get the hint that I was unavailable. Nope, she was
still climbing.
"I see you've decided to do the whole groupie routine, as well," Alice said once she'd
reached me.
I didn't answer, choosing to pretend I was engrossed in my book.
"Uh, hello? Earth to Bella." Alice snapped her fingers in front of my face and I
boosted the book from my lap to in front of my nose to stop her. "What the hell are you
doing?"
"I don't want people to think we're talking," I said into the pages.
"Last time I checked, I was still the most popular girl in our sophomore class. It's not
like it'd hurt your reputation to talk to me."
"You'd be surprised," I said.
"Will you stop doing that?" she barked. "I look like an idiot standing here."
I grinned deviously. "Trust me, it has nothing to do with the fact that you're
standing." Even without being able to see her face, I could feel her shooting daggers at me.
"That's your father down there trying to coach, right?" I didn't respond, hoping she'd
go away if I ignored her long enough. "Bella!" she shrieked. "I can't believe you gave Edward
a hand-job in the broom closet! Tell me, how fast–"
"Okay, okay, shut up and sit down!" I said in a panic, lowering the book and glancing
from side to side to see if anyone had heard. Thankfully, everyone was preoccupied on the
field.
She smiled sweetly and started to put her things next to me. "No, not there!"
"Then where?" she asked, annoyed.
I looked around, and nodded to the bench a couple rows ahead of me. "Down
there."
"Are you for real?"
"You want to talk about Jasper? Fine. I'll tell you whatever you want. But do not sit
next to me."

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 She obliged noisily by stomping down two rows of bleachers and flinging her book
bag down. "Happy now?"
"Not remotely," I said, watching Tyler drop the ball Edward had thrown from
second base. "Have they always been this bad?"
"Well, I only started watching last year. They were actually really great because the
team was mostly made up of seniors that had played for years. They've all graduated,
though." That confirmed it for me. Coach Clapp was as much a sculptor as I was a
hippogriff. He was probably sitting at home, mocking whichever sucker had taken his old
position. "I really hope this bunch can step it up. Jasper needs a great team to support him.
He's amazing."
I gritted my teeth. "It's not all about Jasper, you know."
She turned around indignantly. "Are you serious?" she asked at the same time I
demanded, "Don't look back here when you talk!"
Spinning back around and angrily crossing her arms over her chest, she said, "Just
wait until you see Jasper hit a ball."
I didn't have to wait long. Charlie had finished getting the team situated in the field
to his satisfaction and wanted to see what last year's team members had to offer. Jasper was
first up to bat. He took a sturdy stance at the plate and looked perfectly at ease as Charlie
threw the pitch. The crack of ball to metal sounded through the air like a shotgun. You
could all but feel the power of the hit from the bleachers. Jasper was an amazing batter. I
would have been far more impressed, however, if the ball hadn't flown straight at second
base.
I watched in horror as Edward stretched his gloved hand above his head to try to
catch the ball. Only the ball wasn't headed there. With a grunt loud enough to hear from
where I was sitting, the baseball struck him in the gut.
"Edward!" I screamed, jumping up from the bench. He fell to his knees, clutching
his stomach painfully. I ditched Alice without a second thought. The team was already
surrounding him when I arrived, and I unabashedly shoved the boys out of the way. I could
hear Edward's ragged breaths and it scared me.
"That has got to hurt," I heard Jasper say as I finally reached the center of the crowd.
"I really felt the power behind that one. The bat vibrated something fierce."
Edward groaned in response. Charlie was kneeling to the side of him, awkwardly
patting Edward's bowed back. "We should get you to the nurse's office."
Another groan.
I dropped to my knees in front of him. "Edward?" His eyes flitted open at the sound
of my voice, raw pain behind them. "Do you need a nurse?"
He shook his head.
"Tell me what you need," I said. "Say anything."
He took a couple shallow breaths and slowly removed the death clutch he had on his
stomach. "I caught it," he choked out pitifully, holding up the baseball.
I giggled in both humor and relief. "Yes, you did. You may make a decent second-
baseman yet."
A grimace was the closest he could get to a smile under the circumstances.
"We should get him back to the dugout," Charlie said. I agreed and stepped back so
he and Jasper could help Edward to his feet.

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 "We got it from here. You finish practice," I told Charlie, taking his place under
Edward's right arm. Getting Edward to the dugout was tricky. Once there, we helped him lie
down on the wooden bench.
"How's it feel, buddy?" Jasper asked.
"Like getting stabbed with a Morgul-blade."
Jasper laughed. "Frodo survived and so will you. Bella, there's a first aid kit on the
wall of the sports shed with an ice pack. Perhaps you could… uh, I could go get it," he
amended at my furious gaze. "Be right back."
"I thought he was exaggerating when he said he could hit a ball one hundred miles
per hour," Edward said. "Good for him, I suppose, for making me a believer."
"Do you mind if I look at it?" I asked, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt.
Edward raised his eyebrows, but didn't object as I gently lifted the material. The skin
surrounding the baseball-shaped mark was a furious shade of red. He would have a sizable
bruise there in a couple hours.
"How does it look?" he asked.
"Really hot."
"There's heat emanating from it?"
"No, I mean you are really hot." This was one of the rare opportunities I had to ogle
a shirtless Edward. I wasn't about to waste it, whether he was wounded or not.
Edward let out a chuckle, followed by a cough. "It hurts to laugh."
"Well, I wasn't joking anyway." I lifted my right hand and lightly glided it over his
uninjured abs. "I like that you're not too buff, but not too skinny. You're perfect for me.
And you have these super adorable little hairs by your belly button," I said, twirling one of
them around my pinky.
"What are you trying to do to me?" he groaned, reaching over and gripping my hand
tightly.
I smiled cunningly. "I'm not helping?"
"You know you're not."
A comfortable silence settled between us as we waited for Jasper to return with the
ice pack, until Edward squeezed my hand and said, "It's going to be all right."
"I know. It's going to bruise and probably hurt like a mother over the next couple of
days, but you'll be fine."
"I meant about the baseball team," he said. "I know I'm not the best now, but Jasper
said he was horrible at his first practice, too." I bit my lip so as not to point out that Jasper
was five at his first practice – not fifteen. "It's going to be all right. Trust me. A few more
practices, and the team will be there. Jasper says so."
"I believe you," I lied.

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 Chapter 21: The First Time He Failed

The next few weeks did not go the way Jasper had foretold. While the Spartan
baseball team showed vast improvement from the first practice, the majority of the team still
couldn't hit more than the occasional foul ball or pop fly. Edward had yet to hit even that.
Then there were the fielding errors, like when Edward threw the ball to Mike
Newton and, instead of getting it anywhere near his mitt, hit Mike right in the shin. In all
fairness to Edward, he might have been aiming at Mike's leg, since he still hadn't forgiven
him for the crude comments he'd made about me last year. Apparently neither had Charlie,
who congratulated Edward on the amazing throw, then turned to Mike (who was hopping
up and down on one foot in agony) and told him to knock off the theatrics and try harder to
catch the ball next time.
I could tell Charlie was growing anxious as the first game drew nearer. He wasn't a
bad coach. As a matter of fact, he was excellent, and he held the respect of every member on
the team. But not even Dumbledore could transform a muggle into a magician in five weeks.
Edward, on the other hand, was unfazed by the team's general lameness. "According
to Jasper, a recent study says newcomers are more likely to make unexpectedly great plays.
So come game time, the team has nothing to worry about," he'd say.
As far as practices went, Alice continued to show up and I continued to ignore her
(unless she had something interesting to say). The laptop the Cullens had given me for
Christmas became my saving grace. I brought it to the stadium with me and worked on
MyT-Spot projects while Edward and Charlie were at practice. It allowed me time to
experiment with some of the graphics and web software Edward had installed on the
computer, so I didn't have to focus too much on what was happening on the field. I was
already nervous enough without the daily reminder of how bad the team was.
"Hello, beautiful," Edward greeted me after practice let out the Thursday before the
first game. He sat on the bleacher behind me and playfully kissed my forehead.
I snuggled back into him. I loved how Edward smelled after practice. Any other girl
would say he was sweaty and gross, but to me he smelt raw and manly. It made me want to
jump him. "Hello, handsome. How was practice?"
Edward shrugged. "Okay, I guess. With the game in two days, Coach is working us
hard. It could have gone better, but that seems to be true with every practice."
"That's how it goes every year," Jasper said with a dismissive wave, choosing to sit
next to me on the bench. I didn't like his smell nearly as much as Edward's. "But don't
worry. The first game kicks everyone into high gear. It's going to be fine."
"What are you working on?" Edward asked, glancing at my laptop screen.
"Just MyT-Spot stuff. I'm thinking of adding some new features to the site." I
couldn't wait to show him some of the things I had come up with. His mind would be
thoroughly blown, I was sure of it.
"You know, Jasper actually has some ideas for merchandise," Edward said, smiling
brightly.
"That's nice," I said, uninterested. "Well, Edward and I better get going. We have
loads of work to do tonight." I closed my laptop and stuffed it into my backpack. "You
ready to go?"

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 "Actually," Jasper spoke before Edward could, "we were all thinking of grabbing
pizza. Even Coach is coming, and you're invited, as well."
"I don't think so," I said, looking at Edward. "We have a lot of work to do…"
"Oh, come on, don't you ever take a night off?" Jasper asked.
"Yes, as a matter of fact. We've hardly worked on MyT-Spot since baseball season
started."
"But this is important! It's the night before the night before our first baseball game!
We have to bond!" Jasper said.
"Fine, if Edward wants to go, he can," I said. "I'm not his mother. It's not like he
needs my permission."
"I wasn't suggesting that he did."
"Hello, Edward is sitting right here," Edward spoke up. "And Edward is not going
unless Bella goes."
Ha! I felt the sudden desire to let out a victorious roar at his words. Take that Jasper
Whitlock!
"However," Edward said, "I would really like to go out with the rest of the team.
What do you say we work on MyT-Spot over the weekend instead of tonight?"
He looked so hopeful; I couldn't let him down. My ideas would have to wait and so
would my roar of victory.

Chatter about the looming baseball game filled the halls of Forks High the next day
at school. People speculated about how good or bad the team would be and whether we had
a fighting chance of repeating the championship win from last year. I kept my mouth firmly
shut. They could decide for themselves tomorrow.
Edward appeared to be handling the pressure quite well for how inexperienced he
was at it all. Whenever I asked him if he was doing okay, he always said he had a few nerves,
but nothing out of the ordinary. Then he'd quote something Jasper had told him about how
great they were going to be despite how they performed in practice. Whenever he said
something like that, I bit my tongue. Edward had convinced himself that everything was
going to be fine at tomorrow's baseball game. I didn't want to be the one to rain on his
parade.
His nerves did seem to be manifesting in other ways, though. He'd suddenly
developed a compulsion to keep his backpack as neat and tidy as possible. He'd already
reorganized it three times during our morning classes. It was on our way to lunch, when he
spotted something wrong with my backpack and tried to fix it, that I finally had enough.
"Edward, what's wrong?" I asked, gripping his hand to stop him from messing with
my backpack pockets.
"Some of your mechanical pencils are poking out through the zipper," he answered.
"It makes them susceptible to sticky fingers."
"That's not what I mean and you know it. Right now, the least of my worries is my
pencils being stolen. What's really wrong?" That was when I saw the first crack in Edward's
perfectly constructed confidence. "You're nervous about tomorrow, aren't you?"
"A few nerves are good before a game. Jasper says so," he said on auto-pilot.
"But that's not what you're feeling right now, is it? This isn't a few nerves." Though
his face was a practiced calm, his eyes betrayed him. He was terrified.

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 Edward didn't get a chance to respond, since Jasper chose that very inopportune
moment to walk up to us. "Hey, buddy! Where're you going?"
"To our lunch table," Edward said. "Aren't you coming?"
"Actually the day before a game, it's tradition that the team sits together." Jasper
jerked his head toward a couple tables in the cafeteria that had been pulled together. "It's all
about comradeship and team spirit. You have to sit with us. I saved you a seat next to me."
Edward shook his head uncertainly. "But Bella…"
"Bella understands," Jasper said. "Don't you, Bella? The coach thinks it's a great idea,
and we all know great minds think alike." He winked.
I opened my mouth to reply (though I wasn't sure what I could say to that), but
Jasper had already thrown his arm over Edward's shoulder. "So you nervous about the game
tomorrow?" he asked, leading Edward over to the team's table… away from me.
"Uh, yeah. A bit," Edward said distantly, throwing a regretful glance back in my
direction.
"I'm telling you, it's going to be completely different tomorrow. Once the adrenaline
kicks in, you're going to be unstoppable. You're going to be fuckin' Babe Ruth. Trust me."
It was like a tug of war. Edward was the rope, Jasper my opponent, and I was losing
my grip.

"I'm going to Avada Kedavra whoever this is," I said groggily into the phone. Who
the hell had the audacity to call my house at 6:30 AM on a Saturday?
"I can't do this!"
I jerked up, immediately alert. "Edward? What's going on?"
"You were right. Of course you were. It isn't just nerves. I could barely sleep last
night because I was so worried about the game. And let's admit it, I'm not that good. And
what if the adrenaline doesn't kick in and I still suck in front of the entire school? And what
if I let the entire team down when they need me most? And there's something else. It's a bad
omen. I know it is. I just know it."
"What do you mean by an omen?" I asked, trying to keep up with his panicked
ramblings.
"A pimple. I woke up with a pimple the size of a watermelon right on my cheek. I
never get pimples. You know I have a fairly spotless complexion as far as teenage boys go.
And there it is, smack-dab in the middle of my cheek. The size of a mongoose egg, I tell you!
It's a sign. It's a sign that today is going to be a very bad day."
"Edward, calm down. Take a couple deep breaths," I said, breathing deeply myself.
Edward had never been so agitated and it was freaking me out.
He did as I requested and seemed calmer when he talked again. "What am I going to
do?"
"Right now, keep yourself from hyperventilating. I'll be there in thirty minutes,
okay?"
"Okay."
I hopped out of bed and grabbed a t-shirt and jeans from my dresser. "And
Edward?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too. Please hurry."

  162  
 Charlie was already awake, or rather still awake, since it looked like he hadn't gotten a
wink of sleep. He was in the kitchen having a cup of coffee while he looked over baseball
plays. Probably guessing the reason, he dropped everything when I told him I needed to get
to the Cullen's.
The drive was tense. Charlie tried to make conversation, but I wasn't in the mood to
talk to him. I was worried about Edward and a small part of me blamed my dad for this
whole mess. I didn't even wait until the car was fully parked before jumping out and, without
bothering to knock, running up to Edward's bedroom. He was sitting in his computer chair
with his head between his legs, already wearing his baseball uniform.
"Edward?" I said, running over to him. He looked up at me and a gasp fell from my
lips.
Holy shit, that was a huge zit.
"I'm so sorry," I said, kneeling in front of him. "Does it hurt?"
Edward chuckled bleakly. "It's a pimple, not a bullet wound."
"Well, fortunately, I came prepared." I reached into my purse and pulled out a bottle
of concealer.
He looked at me in horror. "You want me to wear make-up?"
"Oh, don't be such a drama queen. You had to wear make-up for the play last year.
It's not that big of a deal."
"That was completely different and you know it."
"Well, it's either this or you can walk around all day looking like you have a third
eye."
Edward grudgingly gave in. "Fine. But I thought you got rid of all this stuff in eighth
grade."
I put a dab of the concealer onto an applicator. "I got rid of some of it, but this is
damn useful when I need to cover up a blemish."
"You never have blemishes," he mumbled, lifting his hand and caressing my cheek.
"That's because I do a good job," I said. "So trust me."
"I'd trust you with my life."
I smiled and started applying the concealer. "Tell me about what's going on. Besides
the zit."
"I feel like everyone expects me to do so great. I hate disappointing people…"
How could I say this diplomatically? "I don't think they have high expectations of
you, so much as they're trying to make you feel better."
"Wow, thanks."
"Well, what do you want me to say? The last thing you need is another person telling
you how great you're going to be," I said. "The fact is, you might be great or you might suck
or you might fall somewhere in between. But you can't go out there playing for anyone other
than yourself. Even if they do have high expectations, who cares? This is about you, not
them."
"You see, I know you're right. I know it. But I think it's one of those things that's
easier said than done."
"Yeah, kind of like covering up this zit."
"How's it looking?"
"Horrible," I said honestly. So much concealer was needed that the already gigantic
zit now looked like a smaller version of Mount Everest. "I think it's time to abandon this and
go to Plan B."

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 "Which is what?" he asked as I dug in my purse.
"War paint." I held up a tube of Eye Black. I had planned to give it to him after the
game today as a congratulatory gift, but now seemed like the right time. "Do you want it
under one eye or both?"
Edward was looking at the bottle skeptically. "What do you think?"
"One eye is a fashion statement. Both eyes has more to do with the practical
application of keeping the sun out of your eyes."
"We live in Forks. There is no sun," Edward said.
"Then a fashion statement it is." I took the cap off the tube. "Do you want to do it
or do you want me to?"
"You, of course. And just so you know, I'm not exactly cool enough to pull it off."
"Tell the guys it was your girlfriend's way of wishing you good luck." I lifted the tube
and smeared a black line across his cheek. It covered his pimple perfectly and gave him a
sort of rogue, badass look (which was weird, since he was Edward). "There," I said happily.
"It's perfect. Have a look."
He walked over to the vanity mirror above his dresser and burst out laughing the
second he caught a glimpse of himself.
"What is so funny?" He didn't look bad at all.
"I realized… Bella, you spent the last ten minutes touching up a pimple on my face
without so much as a second thought. You must love me."

In spite of all of Jasper's predictions of adrenaline and Babe Ruth grandeur, the game
was not going well for the rest of the team. Naturally, Jasper excelled and every time he
stepped up to the plate, the crowd went wild. I sat there, grating my teeth dangerously and
trying not to jeer as he waved and posed to the masses like some kind of superstar.
"That kid is going somewhere," I heard an older man say to his cohort from behind
me. "He's got talent."
He'd said that at least twenty times in the past seven innings and it was slowly driving
me crazy. More of the town's population had shown up for the game than I expected. The
bleachers were overflowing, and I was scrunched between Carlisle and Angela on the first
row. Lawn chairs and picnic blankets were procured for those people who couldn't fit in the
stands. The town's people were interested in seeing what the Chief of Police could do with
the Fork's High baseball team. So far, people were disappointed and they weren't quiet in
voicing their remonstration.
Every time one of the less than superior batters walked up to the plate, the crowd
would make an audible groaning noise. Unfortunately, Edward was amongst those they had
deemed abysmal, and I prayed he wasn't able to hear their objections from down on the
field.
"Not this kid again," the man behind me said. "I tell you, only made the team
because he's the Chief's daughter's boyfriend."
That was it. I whipped around. "You better watch it."
"Oh, hello, Miss Swan," the man greeted, nonplussed. I recognized him as Officer
Stevens. "I didn't recognize you there with your little baseball hat."
"Yeah, yeah," I said, irritated by his condescending tone. "Just watch what you're
saying, buddy."

  164  
 Officer Stevens looked stunned that I had the nerve to speak to him like that. "Now,
Miss Swan, I've worked with your father for a long time, and I know Edward from the
office," he said, as if those facts alone trumped my being the Chief's daughter and Edward's
girlfriend. "I think I know what I'm talking about."
"Like you knew what you were talking about when you told my father you thought
my boyfriend was gay?"
He snorted. "Oh, yeah, and guys with girlfriends never come out of the closet."
My eyes narrowed. "I may look small and scrawny, but my father taught me how to
punch like a mother fu–"
"Now, now, Bella. Let's not threaten and insult the fastidious police officer who's
possibly armed," Carlisle said, putting an arm around my shoulder and turning me so I was
looking at the field again.
"Did you hear what he said?" I asked indignantly.
"Yes, and it makes me as mad as it makes you, but there's no reason to exacerbate
the situation."
"I dare him to arrest me," I said loudly. "I dare him to lay one freaking finger on
me."
"Edward needs us now." Carlisle nodded toward the field. He was right; Edward was
standing stiffly over the plate. I took a deep breath and let it out, praying that this would be
the one for him. We were losing thirteen to four and the only reason we had the few runs we
did was because of Jasper. We already had two outs, so I knew Edward was feeling the
pressure.
He raised his bat shakily and took his stance. The pitch was thrown. He swung and
missed.
"Strike one!" the umpire shouted and the crowd grumbled.
"It's all right, Edward!" I called, hoping he could hear me over the hisses and catcalls.
"You're doing fine!" Stevens scoffed from behind me.
Edward didn't swing at the second pitch, though it was within his strike zone.
"Strike two!" pierced the air, loud and clear.
"Edward, it's fine!" Carlisle and Angela shouted with me this time.
"Wait for your pitch!" I added.
Edward glanced up nervously in our direction. I gave him an encouraging smile and
swiped a finger across my right cheek. It was exactly where his own line of Eye Black rested
and I hoped he knew I was sending him good luck.
He nodded and turned back to the pitcher, raising his bat once more.
Something caught my attention in the corner of my eye, and I looked down to see
Charlie staring peculiarly at me from the dugout. I gave him the best smile I could. He only
managed a grimace in return, then turned back to the game.
When the third strike was called, I wasn't watching Edward. I was still studying my
father. His gaze flitted to the ground for a long moment, and when he looked back up, his
face held no disappointment for Edward. In its stead there was sorrow and guilt, as if he felt
he had failed Edward and the team as a coach. My heart ached for him almost as much as it
did for my boyfriend. Sometimes I took for granted how much Charlie meant to me.
My attention was immediately brought back to the game when a gruff voice shouted
from the crowd, "There goes the no-hitter!" as Edward walked back to the dugout. Though
I'm sure no one else caught the way Edward infinitesimally paused and hung his head, I
knew he had heard. I felt tears sting my eyes.

  165  
 Charlie clapped Edward on the shoulder as he entered the dugout and whispered a
few words. Edward nodded and took his seat on the bench, burying his head in his hands. I
couldn't take much more of this, and from the looks of it, neither could Edward. I only
prayed it would be over soon.
The last two innings passed quickly and Edward mercifully hadn't had to take the bat
again. He'd even managed to catch a fly ball from his position on second base, ending the
eighth inning, but I could see it didn't do anything to lighten his spirits from the appalling
final score of 14-5.
Carlisle, Angela, and I sat stagnant in our seats as the crowd dispersed and the
disillusioned Forks Spartan team filed into the locker room for their post-game pep talk. I
wondered what Charlie would say to them.
There was barely anyone left in the bleachers when Carlisle spoke. "So, Bella, who do
you want to take?"
"Edward." He needed me more right now.
"Why did I even ask?" He smiled good-humouredly. "I'll go talk to Charlie. He'll be
in his office after the locker room pep-talk?"
I nodded. "We'll meet you there."
Angela and I headed to the locker room and leaned against the fence as we waited.
One by one the boys emerged, all appearing browbeaten and demoralized. We lingered for
several minutes, and when neither Jasper nor Edward exited, I started to get worried.
Just as I was about to knock down the door, Jasper appeared. "He's in rough shape.
I'd stay, but my mom's waiting."
I tried to repress the small surge of victory that I was going to be the one to comfort
Edward. It was, after all, my job to do so as his girlfriend. "I got this one," I said, opening the
door.
"Uh, Bella, that's the boy's locker room."
"So?" I asked, daring Jasper to try and stop me.
He shrugged. "It's empty besides Edward. Go on in."
I tried to hide my eye roll. As if I needed his permission. Upon entering the room, I
saw Edward sitting rigidly on a locker room bench. He was still in his baseball uniform,
staring down blankly at his hands.
"How're you doing?" I asked.
"I don't get it," he said after a moment. "I have played video games my entire life.
And yet, when it comes to baseball, my hand-eye coordination is non-existent."
"Well, maybe baseball isn't something that can be learned by video games."
"I don't get it," Edward repeated.
I sat next to him. The devastated way in which Edward's shoulders slumped and his
voice cracked broke my heart, and I didn't know what I could say to make him feel better.
"At least you're not the worst person on the team."
Edward snorted. "How do you figure?"
"Did you see Mike miss that easy catch in right field? He wasn't paying attention and
it fell down about three feet in front of him. I thought Charlie was going to burst a blood
vessel! And Tyler! My God, he actually threw a baseball over the first baseman's head and
into the crowd."
"Yeah, I suppose…" he said, not sounding convinced.
"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the entire team kind of blows," I said. Then
added as a disappointed afterthought, "Well, except for Jasper, of course." Edward looked

  166  
shocked, as if that thought had never crossed his mind before. "And you, you're actually a
decent second baseman compared to the rest of the team. As for batting, you just need to
find the right motivation."
"Jasper says that. I've tried all sorts of things. Like imagining that my bat is a sword
and the baseball is the head of a Uruk-hai," Edward said seriously. "And still… nothing."
I smiled. "I know Lord of the Rings makes your heart tick, but maybe it isn't the right
thing."
"That isn't what makes me heart tick."
"Then what is?" I asked, wracking my brains for his other passions.
He looked at me, then, in such an incredulous, yet intense and loving manner, I
thought it would pierce my heart.
"Oh, right," I said stupidly.
He was silent for several long moments. "Can I admit something to you?"
"Of course. You know you can tell me anything."
"But this is something horrible."
"It's all right. Tell me."
He took a deep breath. "I imagined that you were being attacked by the Urak-hai
baseball, and I still couldn't hit it."
Dear Lord, I tried not laughing, but how could I not? "Oh my God, Edward! I love
you so much, you have no idea," I choked through my giggles.
"Bella! This is serious! I feel like I failed you."
"No, Edward." I smiled, grabbing both his hands and moving so I was kneeling on
the ground in front of him. "You could never, ever fail me. I feel so lucky that out of every
girl in the school you chose me."
Edward was shaking his head. "No, you chose me–"
"Shut up. This is my pep talk." I smirked, happy to see that he was now fighting a
smile. "As I was saying, I feel so lucky and so blessed that you chose me, out of everyone, to
share your life with. And the fact that you're trying all these new and different things is
amazing! Even if you aren't the best at them, it doesn't mean that you failed me or Charlie or
Jasper or anyone, or even that you failed at all. It inspires me that you're even trying. That's
what's important."
He let out a breath. "How can I ever express what you mean to me?"
"You somehow manage to every day, even if you don't know it."
He shook his head sadly. "No, I don't think I do. I don't think I can." He let that rest
between us before giving my hands a squeeze and saying, "I need a couple minutes."
It hurt that Edward wanted to be by himself, especially after what I felt had been a
superb pep talk (certainly much better than anything Jasper could have come up with). "I
understand you need to be alone. I'll see you soon."
He looked at me in surprise. "It's not that I don't want you here," he said. "Trust me,
just looking into your beautiful brown eyes makes me feel a million times better, but I have
to change out of my uniform before we can go home."
Oh. Edward was about to get undressed. Something tingled in my stomach and my
cheeks grew warm… only it wasn't out of embarrassment or any other emotion I was
familiar with.
Edward. Undressed.
Edward. Naked.
Edward. Nude.

  167  
 "I'll wait for you outside," I squeaked, now desperate to remove myself from the
locker room.
"And Bella?" Edward called. I looked back him. "I'm going to be fine. I promise.
Don't worry, okay?"
Nope. "Sure."
Angela was still leaning against the fence when I exited. "How's he doing?"
"Thoroughly disappointed, I think."
She didn't answer, but what was there to say? I stewed in my thoughts and realized
how shaken the sight of Edward distraught had made me. Why was this so hard for me? I
could take rejection, public humiliation or degradation, practically anything, and survive. But
seeing Edward so defeated and sad was killing me – it was tearing me up from the inside out.
"This is all Jasper's fault!" I said.
"How do you figure?" Angela asked cautiously.
"I mean, if he hadn't… if he hadn't practically forced Edward to join the baseball
team, then given him false hope that he'd immediately be brilliant at a game he'd never
played before, Edward wouldn't be suffering right now." Angry tears sprung into my eyes as
I ranted to my best friend. "God, and it's my fault, too, because I was the one who tried to
change Edward in the first place. I was the one who forced him to sit through all those
lunches and meet new guys. It was all me. It's entirely my fault. I'm so stupid."
"No, you aren't," Angela said, rubbing my back. "You did what you thought was best
and it was the right thing to do."
"It wasn't," I said stubbornly. "I wish I could take it all back. I wish I could jump in a
time machine and go back to the day they met and prevent it from happening. Why can't I
do that?"
"Because it's impossible."
"It's not that hard!" I said. "It's just breaking down molecules and reestablishing
them in another place and time!"
Angela tried hard to suppress a laugh at my absurd statement, I could tell, but
suddenly we were both giggling so hard we couldn't stop. It took several moments for us to
regain composure.
"Oh, Merlin's beard," I said, wiping the tears off my face. "I'm getting too old for
this kind of nonsense."
"You're fifteen," Angela said. "This is exactly the kind of nonsense you should be
worrying about."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Seriously, though, do you really wish you could take it back?" she asked.
"Some days, yes. Some days, no. I don't know, to be honest."
"Do you feel like Edward's replaced you?"
"Absolutely not." That was one thing I was sure of. "You can't replace what we have.
But beyond that, I can't figure out what the problem is. I like Jasper and I appreciate that he
makes Edward happy… but I cannot stand him," I admitted.
Angela thought about it for a second. "Jasper's energy is concentrated on Edward. I
think it's kind of like how Edward used to be with you before Jasper came along."
"You think Jasper is gay?" The thought had crossed my mind…
"Heavens, no," Angela said. "He doesn't have that vibe. Jasper has had a lot of
friends, but I don't think he's ever had a best friend. It's an anomaly to him and I think that's
why he's so determined to make their friendship something special."

  168  
 "That makes sense." I nodded along with her theory. "But his efforts are backfiring.
He needs to let Edward live his life, just like I do." I realized, then, that Jasper needed a
hobby. Baseball season would have provided that, but then he dragged Edward into it. What
Jasper needed was a distraction he could have that Edward couldn't. What Jasper needed was
a…
It was like fate how Alice jumped out of the stands at the precise moment I had
thought it, as if she knew exactly what I was about to say.
Oh, fuck it.
"What Jasper needs is a girlfriend."

  169  
 Chapter 22: The First Time She Made a Frenemy

SwordOfAragorn: What are you up to tonight?

Potterphile1988: talking to my mom on the phone. you packing for tomorrow?
SwordOfAragorn: Yes. I know it's only an overnight trip, but it's taking
forever to pack. I thought I'd take a little break to see what you were doing.
Potterphile1988: i'm glad you did. i am sooooooo bored.

I had been working on new design codes for MyT-Spot in my bedroom, when Renee
had called to grill me on every aspect of my life. It's not that I didn't enjoy talking to my
mom, I really did miss her, but she had a tendency to get carried away. We'd already been
talking for two hours tonight and it didn't sound like we'd be stopping any time soon.
are you still nervous? I typed via AOL Instant Messenger, half-listening to my
mom ramble on about the injustice of overpriced shoes at Payless.

SwordOfAragorn: A little. But not to worry, Cherry Blossom. Over the last few
months of losing dreadfully, I've learned to look defeat right in the eyes and
have a good laugh. I expect to laugh a lot this weekend.
Potterphile1988: lol, i'm sure you will. and what is that?
SwordOfAragorn: What is what?
Potterphile1988: cherry blossom – what is that? i noticed you've been throwing
a lot of weirdness out there lately.

"So honey, how's the baseball team doing?" Renee asked, finally ending her ten
minute diatribe on false representation.
"Dad is taking the whole team to Seattle for a two-day tournament tomorrow. I'm
prepared for the worst. They're improving, but they still suck," I said.
"Even Edward?"
"Especially Edward."

SwordOfAragorn: Oh, that! You call me Swirl, so I've just been trying to find
the perfect pet name for you. No success yet, though.

"Really? He's not doing well?"

"Well, he's a decent second-baseman, but it's over halfway through the season and he
still has yet to actually hit a ball."
"It sounds like what he needs is a homerun."

SwordOfAragorn: I have a whole list of names I've been meaning to try out.

"I couldn't agree more," I mumbled.

SwordOfAragorn: Hugglepuff, Boo Boo Bear, Cutie Pie, Cauliflower Crumbles,

Berry Bloom… shall I continue or do you like any of those?

"Just make sure you're using protection."

"Uh-huh," I said, absentmindedly reviewing his list again. "Wait – what?"
"Maybe he could use some lessons from an actual minor-league baseball player," she
rushed to say.
I looked up from the computer. "What are you talking about, Mom?"

  170  
 "Maybe it's time for you and Edward to come visit me. I want to meet him!" I could
practically see her bouncing up and down on the other end of the phone.
"I don't know. I think we have a busy summer planned."

Potterphile1988: what are we doing this summer?

"Oh, come on! I haven't seen my own daughter in decades," she said. "I miss you!"
"I miss you too, Mom. Why don't you come to Forks?"
"I will if I have to, but I think you should come out here where it's warm. We can sit
on the beach and gossip while Phil teaches Edward a thing or two about baseball. We have
the most beautiful view of…"

SwordOfAragorn: There's this baseball summer camp in Oregon that Jasper and I
are going to for a couple weeks in July.

I froze.

SwordOfAragorn: I could have sworn I told you?

Potterphile1988: you didn't
SwordOfAragorn: Oh, Bella, I am infinitely sorry!
SwordOfAragorn: Please don't be angry…
Potterphile1988: i'm not

I totally was.
"… and, if you can believe it, they actually have vendors who sell snow cones and
hot dogs right on the beach! It's absolutely fabulous! What do you say?"

SwordOfAragorn: What can I do to make it up to you?

Potterphile1988: don't worry about it. i think i'll be in florida anyway
visiting my mom.

"It sounds like fun. Count me in as long as Charlie's all right with it," I said.
She squealed on the other end of the phone. "I can't wait to see my baby again and
meet my future baby-in-law!"
"Please don't call Edward that again, for my sake. And also, I don't think he's going
to be able to come. He's got this baseball camp thing with his friend Jasper."

SwordOfAragorn: Oh, that will be fun…

"That sucks! You should ask him to come to Florida anyway."

Potterphile1988: it will be

"I might. I think I'm going to go to bed. Long day at school and all."

Potterphile1988: i'm off to bed. i'll see you when you get back from seattle.
good luck tomorrow!

"All right, Sweetie. We'll talk dates later. I can't wait to see you!"
"Me too! Love you!" I hung up the phone as I received another AIM from Edward.

  171  
SwordOfAragorn: I'll miss you tomorrow and Saturday. Goodnight, my precious
Cuddlecake.
Potterphile1988: if you EVER call me cuddlecake again, I'm going to start
calling you something horrible.
SwordOfAragorn: Such as what, my darling Cuddlecake?
Potterphile1988: sparkle queen!
SwordOfAragorn: I like it. ;)
Potterphile1988: I hope you have nightmares. badnight, sparkle queen!
SwordOfAragorn: Sweet dreams and goodnight to you too, Pretty Peach.

Closing my laptop, I glanced at my dresser where Miss Elizabeth Bennet was peering
peculiarly at me through his cage bars. "I know," I said. "But Edward does have some good
qualities, too. Like his body. He has a nice body."
Miss Elizabeth Bennet shook his head and went back to running on his wheel.
"He's a good kisser," I added, before turning out the light and snuggling under my
blankets. "He's also rich."
I drifted off to the erratic rhythm of the skeptical mouse's spinning wheel.

Charlie had outright refused to take me to Seattle with the baseball team for the two-
day tournament. In his mind, Edward and I sleeping under the same roof, albeit in different
hotel rooms with both Edward's interminable devotion to abstinence and the Chief of Police
standing in our way, would drive our hormones so exceedingly mad with lust that we would
be powerless against the urges of our bodies and do something stupid.
I argued vehemently with him about the ridiculousness of his insinuation, but Charlie
refused to budge, eventually shutting me up by revealing way too much information about
the night I was conceived. After that debacle, I decided my talents would be more useful in
persuading Charlie I was too old for a babysitter (I was fifteen years old, after all). He only
conceded when I promised to have a friend come spend the night with me.
He assumed I was asking Angela, but I had someone else in mind.
"Hello, Alice," I said, opening the front door for her. As much as I would have loved
to spend my night of freedom with someone I actually liked, I'd been procrastinating on my
Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend. I couldn't foresee another opportunity presenting
itself where I could talk to Alice for an extended period of time to find out if she was the
right person for the job without Edward and Jasper knowing.
"Hello. Thank you for having me," Alice said as she struggled through the doorway,
bogged down with a large suitcase and an extra duffle bag.
"Uh, you do realize this is a one night deal, right?" I asked, peeking at the luggage.
"You're not moving in with me."
"No duh. I have necessities that, I'm sure, a Simpleton like you couldn't understand,"
she said flippantly. Wow, not five seconds in and she was already on Strike One (I was into
baseball terminology these days). "Some help would be nice, though."
It was so like Alice to insult someone and then expect them to help her. "I think not.
I wouldn't want my 'Simpleton' hands to soil Your Highness' royal luggage."
"What kind of hostess are you?" she asked, frowning.
"I'm not here to impress you. You're here to impress me, remember?" I could hear
her teeth grinding in irritation. "But I will happily show you where you can put your stuff." I
started up the stairs to my bedroom. I only got the smallest bit of satisfaction from hearing
Alice pant and groan as she struggled up after me.

  172  
 When we arrived, she dropped all her crap to the floor with one loud sigh and
slumped over in the chair next to my window. That is, until she looked to her right, let out a
loud scream, and jumped from the chair quicker than I could have believed possible.
"What is that?" she asked loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.
I giggled. "That is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, my pet mouse."
Alice wrinkled her nose. "You keep a rodent in your bedroom?"
"Excuse me, but Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not a rodent. He is a mouse. The best
mouse there ever was."
"He is a mouse? Shouldn't Miss Elizabeth Bennet be a she?"
"No. I said what I meant."
She looked perplexed but didn't question me further. "Just don't expect me to touch
it or anything."
"I wouldn't let you touch Miss Elizabeth Bennet, even if you wanted to. He's in a
delicate condition as of late." Though, admittedly, it would have been hilarious to see Miss
Elizabeth Bennet poop in Alice's hand.
"Whatever. Let's get down to business. What's the plan?" she asked, choosing a seat
at my desk instead.
"I'm glad you asked." I sat in the chair next to hers. "I took the liberty of typing up
an outline."
"Bella's Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend," Alice read off the cover page.
"Diabolical, eh?"
"It has to be in order to undo the mess you've created since freshman year."
"That's a little unfair, don't you think?"
"You're a stalker. I think it's plenty fair."
She looked like she could breath fire. "Stop with the insults and cut to the chase.
How long until I get to be with Jasper?"
"If I decide to help you out, and that's a major if, I think it's going to take about a
year. Possibly longer."
"A year!" Alice squeaked. "You expect me to wait a year?"
"Hey, it's not my fault you've made such a bad impression on Jasper! And also, that's
a year I have to wait, too!"
She sat back in her seat angrily. "I've already had to wait almost two years! How is
this fair?"
"It's not like we're starting with a clean slate, here. Yes, you've had to wait two years
and that's two years of damage we have to undo. What did you expect?"
She seemed to consider that for a moment and apparently decided it was reasonable.
"Well, this plan better be good, then."
"The plan is excellent and you better start being a bit more cooperative or I might
change my mind and try my hand at setting him up with someone less grumpy."
Alice looked furious but reluctantly sat back and gestured for me to continue.
"It's a six-stage process," I said, turning to page two of my outline. "First: Fanatical
Discontinuation. You have to stop acting like a crazy stalker. Second: Personality
Replacement. You need to learn how to be a good person. Third: Re-Introduction to
Society. This is going to be the hardest since we'll have to come up with a believable
explanation as to why we're suddenly hanging out and pretending we like each other." I
shuddered at the thought. Alice didn't look any happier about it.

  173  
 "Fourth," I said, "Trick Jasper Into Falling In Love With You. In order for this to
happen, you're going to have to trust me inexplicably and do everything I say. Fifth: Pretend
He Doesn't Exist. Nothing drives a man crazy like a girl who was into him, who isn't into
him anymore, who he now wants to be into him. In other words, you are going to have to
act like you couldn't give two silver sickles about him.
"Sixth: Happily Ever After. I have something special planned for this last stage to
seal the deal, which I will tell you if and when you manage to complete all five stages. And,
let me tell you, this last stage has the power to drive Jasper to the point of madness with
admiration for you. And it comes with a ninety-seven percent guarantee of marriage and
babies."
Alice's eyes glazed over in a trance. "What is it?"
"What part of I'm-only-telling-you-if-you-manage-to-complete-the-first-five-stages
did you not understand?"
"Oh." Alice blinked herself awake. "I got caught up in my fantasy when you
mentioned babies – you know, from imagining having sex with Jasper."
My back stiffened. "Oh, wow. That was a mental image I did not need."
Alice giggled maliciously. "You are such a virgin."
"True, but back on topic: Before any of that can happen, I need you to fill this out."
I reached over and grabbed the most recent issue of Seventeen magazine, opening it to the
page I had bookmarked.
"Are You and Your Crush Meant to Be?" she read aloud. "Take this quiz and find out. This
is a joke, right?"
"How else am I supposed to know if you're compatible with Jasper? You both take
the quiz, and I'll decide if I want to help you. Seventeen is a very insightful resource."
She pushed the magazine away in disgust. "Why don't you just trust me? We're
meant to be. I don't need a magazine to tell me what I already know."
I pushed the magazine back at her. "Be that as it may, I'd still prefer a non-biased
opinion."
"It's a magazine. Inanimate objects can't have opinions. And why do you care
anyway? You think Jasper needs a girlfriend and I'm more than willing."
I smiled cynically. "Jasper may be the Cedric Diggory to my Harry Potter, but he's
also my boyfriend's best friend. I'm not about to try and set him up with someone he's not
going to be happy with. I do care about his feelings… most of the time."
"I don't need stupid quizzes to know that Jasper and I are meant to be together. I'm
psychic," she said, tapping her forehead.
I laughed loudly, slapping my knee in hilarity. She was a hoot when she wasn't being
a crazy bitch. Alice shot me an incensed look and I gasped. "You're serious?" I sputtered
through unrestrained giggles.
"Yes, I'm serious." Reaching into her backpack, she pulled out a black, round-shaped
object. "This is Trelawney, my Magic 8-Ball. Together, we know all."
It took me several long moments to form words, and even then I could think of
nothing to say. Laughing seemed to say it all.
"Laugh all you want." Alice sourly crossing her arms. "Trelawney has predicted loads
of things–"
"Wait." I stopped her in astonishment. "When you say Trelawney, do you mean Sybil
Trelawney? You read Harry Potter?"

  174  
 Alice sat up straighter. "Harry Potter is a universal sensation. It's not only for
unpopular losers."
I didn't think I would ever get over the shock of having something in common with
Alice.
"Stop looking at me like that!" she demanded. "You look like a gaping baboon. I can
have layers if I want to!" She shifted uncomfortably and changed the subject. "Trelawney
knew I was going to be Cinderella in last year's musical. She knew I was going to flunk my
Algebra test last week. And she knows that Jasper and I will end up together one day. Why is
that so hard to believe?"
"Because it's a freaking Magic 8-Ball." Despite it's awesome name.
"You could at least try to be open-minded."
I attempted to keep a straight face. "Fine. Show me what you've got."
"Just watch." She closed her eyes and straightened up dramatically, holding the ball
dexterously in her fingertips. "Trelawney, will Jasper and I get married one day?" After
shaking the ball three times, she set it down delicately on the desk. It read: Signs point to yes.
"See!" Alice pointed at the ball enthusiastically. "She says that every time!"
I raised my eyebrows at the absurdity of it all.
"Okay, not every time. But nine times out of ten isn't bad! And I've never gotten an
outright no."
"That doesn't prove anything! And I thought inanimate objects couldn't have
opinions."
She balked. "This is completely different."
"But it really isn't."
"You think I'm insane."
"Signs point to yes."
"I swear it, Trelawney knows everything!"
"Do you know anything about Harry Potter?" I asked, reaching for the Magic 8-Ball.
She snatched the ball up before my fingers could get anywhere close. "No one
besides myself is allowed to touch her or the magic will be gone."
"I want to see if it really works. You should at least let me try."
"You can't touch her."
"Great. Then I will ask the question and you can do the weird voodoo-shake thing.
No physical contact needed."
She looked at me skeptically. "What are you going to ask?"
"Excuse me, that's private," I teased.
"Whatever. But only this once."
"Okay, then. Are you ready? Because I am, and I think you have to close your eyes or
the magic won't work." She shot me a glare, but closed her eyes anyway. "Trelawney, is Alice
going to fill out the Seventeen compatibility quiz without further argument?"
"Not happening," she said, shaking the ball three times and set it down on the desk.
I read Trelawney's answer. "Actually, it says ‘Without a doubt.’ Wow. I guess if
Trelawney knows everything, you're going to have to shut up and do the bloody quiz."
She glowered at me. "Touché."
The rest of the night went as well as a sleepover with Alice could be expected. Any
time we talked, we argued. When she wasn't insulting my mouse, my bedroom, or my
wardrobe, she talked about Jasper. Relentlessly. That girl knew things about Jasper that I was

  175  
positive he didn't know about himself. Like the exact size and brand of his underwear. It was
disturbing.
By the time we went to bed, I was absolutely convinced of one thing: There was no
way in hell my Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend was going to include Alice f-word
Brandon.

The next morning, I took one look at Alice snoring peacefully on the pullout
mattress next to my bed, and let out a hushed groan.
"Dear God, it wasn't a nightmare." I rolled out of bed. "Do not fret, Miss Elizabeth
Bennet. In a couple hours, Alice will be gone and Edward will be back and all will be right
with the world," I said, tiptoeing over to feed him.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was lying in an odd position that did not look at all
comfortable. But then again, who was I to judge what was comfy for a mouse?
I tapped the cage. "Wakey, wakey, little Missy."
He remained motionless.
"I assume you were out late partying with the other mice? Tsk. Tsk. Whatever am I
going to do with you?" I nudged the cage harder to wake him up.
When he didn't move, I tilted my head to observe his atypical position closer. His
legs and arms were extended unnaturally and his miniature claws curled minutely at the tips.
My breathing hitched as it dawned on me that he was never going to wake up again.
Grasping the sides of the cage, I shook it forcefully. "Wake up. Wake up!"
"Just give me five more minutes," Alice moaned from her mattress.
"Please wake up! Please! Please!"
"What the hell? I know you want me out of your house, but geez!"
"Please, wake up!" I implored one last time, letting my fingers loosen on the clear
plastic.
"What's going on?" Alice asked once the rattling had come to a sluggish halt and all
hope evaporated.
I couldn't answer for several prolonged moments as I stepped back from the cage. "I
think… I think my mouse…" the words caught in my throat. I stared down at Miss
Elizabeth Bennet's lifeless body. "I think he's dead. Do you mind – can you look to be sure?
I want to be sure."
"Um, okay." She stood from the mattress and walked over to me. She remained
uncommonly silent, examining the cage with eyes wider than my own. "He looks so rigid."
"I know. I think that's what generally happens when things die. They become stiff,
you know? That's how we'll be one day, too."
"That's… really morbid."
"It's the truth, though. One day we'll all be dead and stiff as a board." Even Edward. I
shook that thought away. "What should I do about Miss Elizabeth Bennet?"
"What do you want to do? What feels right?"
I thought about it. "I want to call my dad."
"Let's do that, then." Alice picked up the portable phone and handed it to me.
I looked down at it, but the numbers blurred together. "I don't know how to reach
him. He's left the hotel by now."
"That's all right. I know Jasper's cell phone number. Maybe he'll pick up." Alice took
the phone, dialed in the number, and handed it back to me.

  176  
 Lifting it to my ear, I listened to it ring three times. I wondered what the last thing
Miss Elizabeth Bennet had done before he dropped down dead.
"Bella? Is this you? What's wrong?" It was Edward's voice on the phone, not
Jasper's.
"I need to talk to my dad. Is he there?"
"Yes. He's at the front of the bus. What's wrong?"
"Please, I need to talk to my dad. Can you give him the phone?"
"Sure, but what's wrong? Talk to me."
"Please!" I said frantically, my nerves fraying as I felt Goosebumps rise on my arms.
"Please, I need to talk to my dad! Please give him the phone!"
"Okay, it's going to be all right," Edward said anxiously. "Give me a moment. I have
to walk to the front."
"Don't die." There was silence over the phone. "Edward?"
"I promise I won't," he said, despite how strange the request might have sounded.
I turned to Alice. "Edward's getting my dad. They're on a bus."
Placing a hand on my arm, she said, "It's going to be okay."
"Yeah. Once I talk to my dad." In the background I heard Edward explaining what
was going on and the gruff undertones of my dad's response. The phone clamored when it
exchanged hands.
"Bella, are you there?" Charlie sounded urgent and worried.
"Hi. It's me," I said, turning my back to the cage and walking toward the door.
"Is everything okay? Edward said you were panicked."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Tell me what's going on."
I took a shuddering breath. As I opened my mouth to tell him, tears started trickling
their way down my cheeks, the reality and harshness of the situation hitting me full force.
Suddenly, I was gasping for air.
"You're scaring me. What happened?"
"My mouse died," I sobbed. He let out an audible sigh, but didn't speak. My lip
quivered. "Daddy?"
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I know how much you love that mouse."
"I wish you were here. I don't know what to do." For the first time in a long while, I
felt my age. I was old enough to spend the night by myself and to be in love, but I was only
fifteen.
"When we get home, I'll help you bury Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the backyard." I
almost smiled. Charlie had never called Miss Elizabeth Bennet by his name before.
"When will you be home?"
"We have one more game today and then we're headed back. It'll be about six or
seven hours."
"I don't want to wait that long." My gut twisted at the thought.
"Well, I suppose we could skip this game and head back early…" he offered.
I wiped the tears from my face. "No, don't do that. Let Edward play. I'll take care of
it."
There was a momentary pause on his end of the line. "I have a feeling Edward might
want to be there."
"Edward doesn't like mice," I said fondly. I didn't hold it against him, given it was
pretty damn adorable.

  177  
 "But he does like you."
"I'll be fine. I'm not alone." I tossed a look back at Alice. "Where's the shovel?"
"It's in the garage. Make sure to dig a deep hole so Miss Elizabeth Bennet stays
buried. I'll call when we're on our way back. And Bella?"
"Yeah?"
"I hope you know that I like you, too. Sometimes I even love you."
I sniffled a chuckle through my tears. "I love you, too. It's going to be all right."
"It is. I'll see you soon."
After hanging up the phone with Charlie, I turned back to Alice. "I'm going to bury
Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Do you want to call your mom to come pick you up or something?"
She looked uncertain. "If it's all right with you, can I stay here for a while longer? I
promise not to be in the way."
"Sure."
Alice headed to the shower, while I headed outside. It was drizzling, but I
appreciated it. The rain had made the ground soggy and easy to burrow. I dug deep, wanting
to ensure that this resting ground would be Miss Elizabeth Bennet's last. I had chosen a spot
under the giant tree in our backyard, which I imagined he would love if he could see.
Focusing strictly on the task at hand made the enormous weight in my chest hollow out, and
as the grave grew deeper, my tears grew thinner.
After her shower, Alice hovered in the background, not sure what to do. When I'd
finished digging, she tried making me breakfast (which entailed pouring milk into a bowl of
cereal), but I didn't have an appetite.
"I think I should just do it." I fidgeted with a spoon that reminded me of the shovel
I had been holding not ten minutes earlier. "You can stay in here and finish your breakfast,
though."
"No, I'll do it with you," she said.
I wasn't sure I wanted someone who had contemptuously called Miss Elizabeth
Bennet a rodent on so many occasions attending his funeral. It wasn't like we were suddenly
best friends because she had spent the night. But I didn't feel like fighting, so I ran up to my
bedroom to collect Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and then we headed outside to his grave.
Alice kneeled down on the damp grass next to the tree as I placed the cage beside
the hole and sat next to it.
"I guess this is it, Lizzie." I sniffled, taking the lid off the cage. "I'll miss you so
much. I don't know how I'm going to be able to sleep without the sound of your spinning
wheel in the background. And I know for a fact that I'll never meet another mouse with your
sense of irony. Even if you didn't say much, I know you always knew what I was talking
about. I love you and I know one day we'll meet again."
Taking one last good look at him, I reached into the cage to pick up his little body.
As my fingers neared him, a sudden flash of horror overwhelmed me and I tugged them
back. I was about to touch a dead mouse.
Dead. Mouse.
I was practically convulsing from just the thought of touching the rigid corpse. I
reminded myself that this wasn't any dead mouse. It was Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I had to do
this. I tried again.
Nope. No way. There was no way my fingers were going anywhere near that mouse.

  178  
 "Oh my God, I can't do it!" I panicked, breathing unsteadily as tears stung my eyes.
"I can't do it. I can't touch him! Miss Elizabeth Bennet is soft and furry. That's how I want
to remember him. I can't touch him when he's like this… all… firm. It's gross–"
"Okay, you need to breath or you're going to pass out," Alice said calmly, scooting
closer.
"What am I going to do? I can't bury my mouse!"
"Deep breaths!"
"I can't breath! I can't bury my mouse!"
"It's going to be fine."
"No, it's not! No, it's not!" I bawled over and over again.
"Just watch!" she screeched over my wails.
My eyes snapped to her, and then grew wide as I realized what she was about to do.
Alice took a deep breath before sticking her hand into the cage. I watched in awe as she
delicately picked Miss Elizabeth Bennet up by the tail and laid the dead mouse peacefully
into his grave.
We sat there in silence as little driblets of precipitation fell from the sky, crying for
Miss Elizabeth Bennet in my stead, since I was too astonished to shed another tear.
I could tell Alice was fighting a look of complete disgust for my sake and despite the
amusement that naturally came with a moment like this, I actually felt kind of… a little… in
a way… touched by her act.
"Alice?"
"Hmm?"
"I promise I won't be offended if you go wash your hands."
It was comical how relieved she looked. "Thank God. I'll be right back," she yelled
behind her, already halfway across the yard.
I watched her run into the house, before turning back to Miss Elizabeth Bennet's
makeshift plot and picking up the shovel. "I'm sorry she was the last person to touch you," I
whispered into the hole. "But after what she just did, I don't think she can be one hundred
percent evil."

Walking into the school cafeteria Monday was harder than I'd expected, knowing
neither of my two favorite lunch buddies would be there. Angela was making up a history
test and Edward was home sick.
He'd stopped by for a couple hours on Saturday to pay his respects to Miss Elizabeth
Bennet. Then on Sunday, he'd called to inform me he'd gotten a horrible cold and probably
wouldn't be at school the next day.
"That seriously sucks," I'd said sympathetically. I knew how much Edward hated
missing school (which was something I never understood, since sick days were akin to mini-
miracles in my eyes). "Is the MyT-Spot investment meeting getting cancelled as well?"
"I suppose we probably should reschedule." Edward had let out a forceful sneeze.
He'd sounded horrible.
"Uh, may I make a suggestion?" I'd asked.
"Of course, Cuddlecake."
"First off, I suggest that you never call me that again."
"But it has a certain ring to it."

  179  
 "It really doesn't," I'd said. "And second, what if we didn't postpone the meeting? I
know you're sick and feeling awful, but we've already rescheduled this meeting five times
since baseball season started and I have loads of stuff to present to you and Mrs. Evans
before I can continue working."
Edward had considered it for a moment. "No, I don't think it's a good idea."
"Why not? We'll be at your house where it's comfy, and you can stay in your pajamas
if you need to! Your grandma won't mind."
"I don't want to get you sick."
"If you got me sick, I'd consider it the best present you ever gave me."
"Really?" he'd asked, amused. "Even more than the lap- uh, nevermind. Okay, fine.
Let's do it. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."
I was finally going to show Mrs. Evans and Edward what I'd been working on over
the past couple of months during baseball practice. It was going to revolutionize the entire
MyT-Spot website. I only had to get through lunch and my last couple of classes.
Glancing around the lunchroom, I spotted Jasper sitting alone at our table. I gave
myself a mental prod and headed in his direction. Since I was alone today, I figured I might
as well make the most of the situation. After all, I still had a mission to accomplish. Despite
my earlier misgivings, I'd decided that in light of her valiant actions perhaps Alice's
compatibility with Jasper deserved a second glance.
"Hey, Jasper." I pulled out a seat and placed my lunch on the table.
"Hey. I'm sorry to hear about your mouse."
I winced a little. "Thanks. I appreciate that."
"Edward played horribly after he found out."
Biting my tongue so as not to point out that Edward always played horribly, I said,
"That's weird. Edward never really liked Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"I figured it had more to do with being worried about you than anything else."
I smiled fondly. I loved my boyfriend. "You know what's funny? You're Edward's
best friend and I don't know that much about you."
He sat up straighter. "I completely agree. We should get to know each other better."
"Great!" I pulled out my notebook, where I had covertly copied the questions from
the Seventeen quiz I'd made Alice take on Friday. "What's your favorite food?" I asked,
starting off with an easy one.
"Pink Stuff," he said.
I raised my eyebrows. "Huh?"
"Pink Stuff – that's what it's called."
"Oh… that's an odd name for a food."
"Not really, because it's pink. Which," he continued as an afterthought, "is actually a
very masculine color, if you think about it. Almost aggressive in a way."
"What's in it?"
"It's pretty much a mixture of red and white." I gawked at him. Jasper's lips turned
up at the corners. "You totally got me," I laughed. Jasper was funny when he wasn't being a
boyfriend-stealing, overbearing arse. "To clarify, what's in Pink Stuff?"
"Don't I get a question before I have to answer that?"
"What?"
"Isn't that how this get-to-know-you stuff works? You get a question, then I get a
question, then you get a question, etcetera."
"I suppose that's fair." I put down my pencil. "What do you want to know?"

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 He gazed pensively to the ceiling. "Do you think something like Final Destination is
possible?"
"You mean, Final Destination the movie?"
"Yeah, the idea that you can escape death, but it relentlessly searches you out later,
and you have to die to preserve the balance of the universe."
Death had been on mind since Miss Elizabeth Bennet's passing. I'd wondered, at
first, if some neglect on my part had caused his death. Charlie had assured me that it was
simply Miss Elizabeth Bennet's time to go. Then he told me how he'd blamed himself when
my grandparents died and how he came to accept that it wasn't his fault. After that
conversation, the plot behind Final Destination seemed too radical to be considered with any
legitimacy.
"I don't think it's possible," I said.
"Really? Why not?"
"Ap, ap, ap," I ribbed with a good-natured smirk. "I believe it's my turn."
He looked taken aback, then grinned. "I suppose it is."
"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?"
"To New Zealand to trek the roads of Middle Earth and see the home of my
personal hero, Peter Jackson. I got his home address from one of the users that frequents
my website." I wrote the term Stalker discretely in my notebook. Things were looking up for
Alice. "Back to my question, why don't you think Final Destination could happen?"
I mulled over how to phrase my response. "Something I've figured out over the past
couple of days is that if it's your turn to die, then you will die. You can't escape death and if
you think you did, it's because it wasn't your time. So, you shouldn't live in fear of it, which
is what a movie like Final Destination is banking on."
"Never thought of it that way," he said meditatively. "I'm beginning to see some of
the intelligence Edward always tells me you have."
He had said that as if it were a compliment, and yet…
"What's your favorite holiday?" I asked briskly, trying to not dwell on his slight.
"Valentine's Day." Noting my disbelieving glance, he clarified: "Despite this manly
exterior, I'm very sappy and sentimental. I'm fond of the color pink, and I like to be original.
I've only met one other dude in the entire world who likes Valentine's Day as much as I do."
A smile played at my lips. I sat back in my chair, surprised at how much I was
enjoying our conversation. "I know who that is. It's kind of a miracle the two of you ended
up in the same state."
Jasper nodded. "I think Edward's love for Valentine's Day stems more from
sentimental memories than anything else, though."
"Yeah, we officially got together on Valentine's Day." I reflected, and then said,
"Twice, actually. The first time was in eighth grade, the second in ninth. We broke up the
week before and he showed up to the Valentine's Day Dance dressed as Harry Potter." I
laughed at the memory.
"Oh, so that's what that was about." Jasper leaned forward. "I had assumed Edward
was just a huge Harry Potter loser back then."
I dropped my grin. "Um, hello. Harry Potter fans are not losers."
"Edward never told me you'd broken up," he said, ignoring my objection. "He said
he loved Valentine's Day because it was the first time you told him you loved him."
"It was only for a week." I stared down at a blank spot on my notebook. "I imagine
it's hard for him to talk about."

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 "Why did you break up with him?"
My eyes flicked up and I felt a trace of anger behind them. "What makes you think I
broke up with him?"
"Oh, come on." He waved his hand airily as if it was the most obvious thing in the
world. "Everyone can see how he is around you. He more than loves you."
"You mean, more than I love him?" How could anyone think that?
He tilted his head to the left. "I only know what I see and hear."
"Then you don't know anything." All remnants of the pleasant conversationalist I'd
been moments before dissipated like smoke.
"You haven't answered my question, yet."
I massaged my forehead in exasperation. "I didn't break up with Edward. It was a
mutual parting – one that happened in the heat of the moment and made both of us more
miserable than anything you can imagine. Forgive me if I'm not particularly keen on that
topic of conversation."
"You're not going to tell me why?"
"No." No way in hell.
"Fine, then I get another question."
"Whatever." I cracked open my untouched Diet Coke and took a sip.
"What about Edward do you find attractive?"
I choked on the liquid and some sprayed midway across the table. "I'm sorry, what?"
Jasper smiled broadly. "Too much? I'm curious what it is about Edward that makes
you want to be with him."
"No, it's fine." I wiped the table down with a napkin. "Truthfully, the first moment I
saw him sitting in front of his computer in Yearbook class, I knew he was the one for me. It
was this indefinable, urgent desire that completely consumed me the moment I set eyes on
him. It's only grown ever since."
"Really?" Jasper asked, clearly disappointed. "That's it? What about his passion for
the written arts? His intelligence? His expressive eyes? His kind smile?"
An errant thought entered my brain that if the CIA were listening in on our
conversation, they'd have a hard time figuring out exactly whose boyfriend Edward really
was.
"Of course I like all those things. What about you? What qualities do you look for in
your ideal girl?" I asked, happy that the next question on the Seventeen quiz provided a
smooth transition to changing the rather disturbing direction this conversation had gone.
"Someone who isn't shallow. Someone who has multiple interests and is intelligent.
Someone I can talk to." He closed his eyes thoughtfully as he continued. "I imagine
someone who is shorter than me, but not too short. Green eyes. Soft hair, some lighter
shade, maybe reddish-blonde. Fair skin."
Okay, that was it. I had to know. "And do you imagine this person is female?"
His eyes snapped open. "Of course. Think Miranda Otto's interpretation of Eowyn
in Return of the King, if you need a picture."
I let out a sigh. "Great, your turn."
"What makes you good enough to be Edward's girlfriend?"
I almost wished I'd waited for this question to spew my soda. "I beg your pardon?"
"Look, I'm Edward's best friend. It's my job to make sure the person he is with
deserves him." Jasper casually leaned back in his chair.

  182  
 "That's only an excuse if you were best friends with him before I was his girlfriend. If
anything, I should be checking you out!"
He glanced toward my notepad. "Isn't that what you're doing?"
I quickly hid it under the table. "This is something completely different."
"Such as what? Notes for a more interesting paper about me in your Sociology
class?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Edward told me how you pretended to write a Sociology paper so you could
interview boys at lunch and try to find him a friend. Do you always try to change the men
you love so much?"
"First off, the Sociology paper was legit." I balked. "And secondly, I highly doubt
Edward said anything like that. He knows I did that for him!"
"It was overtly deceptive and rude," he accused.
"It was not! If anything, it was," I paused to think of the right word, "under-vertly
deceptive and not rude at all. It was done selflessly!"
"Seems more like the actions of a desperate girl, trying to get her boyfriend off her
back."
"How dare you! Do you think this has been easy for me?" I wanted to say how
worried I had been for Edward if something ever happened to me, how imagining him alone
and miserable broke my heart. I wanted to say I missed him every moment he was away
from me and how I longed to have him to myself again. But part of me didn't feel Jasper
deserved to know how deeply I loved my boyfriend. Almost as if his knowing would tarnish
the purity of my affection in some way; it was only between Edward and me.
"And what about Saturday?"
"What about it?" I practically growled.
"You have no idea how hurt and scared Edward was when you wouldn't talk to him
about your mouse."
That was it, my breaking point. "Well, I'm sorry I couldn't be perfect when my pet
had died, you arsehole! But don't pretend like you know anything about my feelings for
Edward. I love him and know him a hundred times better than you ever will!"
The harsh lines on Jasper's face lightened as a brilliant beam overtook his features.
"Wow, you really do love him." Thank God the bell rang and gave me an excuse not to jump
across the table and strangle him. "Forgive me for that." He stood from his chair and started
packing his half-eaten lunch away. "Congratulations. I wasn't sure you were good enough,
but you passed."
With a parting wink, he swept from the table, leaving me an infuriated mess. How
dare he? Jasper was new to the whole "best friend" concept, but was he seriously that
obtuse? Did he think that a wink and a silly explanation about testing me would make his
accusations all right?
I was still stewing over Jasper's little test when Carlisle came to pick me up from
school for the MyT-Spot investment meeting. I felt like… well, a little like Jane Bennet in
Pride and Prejudice. Desperately in love with Mr. Bingley as his best friend conspires to
separate them. I frowned. That was so wrong; there was no way Jasper was a Mr. Darcy. He
didn't have the temperament or the strength of character.
It was funny, though. Thinking back to Alice and Jasper's first meeting, he had
denied her just like Mr. Darcy had denied…
My head jerked up. "Holy shit!"

  183  
 The car swerved violently as Carlisle stomped on the brakes. "What's wrong?"
"She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me," Mr. Darcy had said.
It was practically the same thing as, "Sorry, Frosh. You're cute, but I don't do
freshmen."
Alice was Lizzie Bennet! I had not seen that one coming!
"Bella, what's wrong!" Carlisle demanded.
"Nothing." I perked up from my revelation. "My life is an Austen novel and I never
knew it."
Carlisle seemed torn between amusement and irritation. "All of our lives are Austen
novels… only with cars instead of carriages. Cars that could kill us."
I peeked at our surroundings. "Speaking of which, why are we parked in the middle
of the street?" Carlisle rolled his eyes and began driving again. "You've been hanging out
with Charlie too much."
"How do you figure?"
"Because you just rolled your eyes. You would have never done that before."
He pursed his lips. "I don't recall doing that."
"You definitely did."
"That doesn't sound like me. I'm positive I did not."
"But you did. It was right after I asked why we were parked in the middle–"
"Are you nervous about the meeting today?"
I laughed. "Oh my God! You tried to change the subject! You're becoming my dad!"
"I most certainly am not!"
"You totally are! Next thing you know, you're going to be telling me how bad my
cooking is and coaching the baseball–"
"I'm actually curious, though. Are you nervous?"
"You did it again!"
Carlisle's lip twitched, but he didn't take the bait. I settled back comfortably in my
seat. It was so weird to think I used to have a crush on him. "I'm not nervous about the
meeting. I have a lot of great ideas to present. The laptop you and Ms. Evans gave me for
Christmas is a God-send. I work straight through baseball practices. I've learned so much
about websites and coding. It's unbelievable. Thank you so much!"
He hesitated for a moment. "How mad would you be if I told you that my wife and I
didn't actually pay for that computer?"
I was surprised he would mention it. It wasn't good manners to discuss gift finances.
"It doesn't matter how you got it. It means so much that you gave it to me."
"Okay, uh," he paused awkwardly, "what if I told you that the gift we got you was
only the sapphire necklace and matching earrings?"
A sinking feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. "I don't understand…"
"What if I said the laptop came from an entirely different, very generous
benefactor?"
"Mrs. Evans?" I asked hopelessly.
He minutely shook his head.
"Edward?" The feeble tightening of his lips told me everything. "Oh my Godric, I
am going to kill him!"
"Right. Then I didn't tell you anything," Carlisle said. Then added, "But if I did tell
you, I would also apologize and say that Esme and I had no idea until you jumped on us
after you opened the present."

  184  
 "I don't blame you for the gift." I crossed my arms. "And I only minorly blame you
for raising a son who is a compulsive liar."
Carlisle laughed. "Technically he didn't lie. I saw the card. He signed it The Cullens."
"Now I see where he gets it from! And, by the way, he only counts as one Cullen.
Not Cullens, plural."
"It could have been a simple spelling error."
"But it wasn't."
"Do me a favor?" he said, pulling into the driveway. "Go easy on him until his
Grandma leaves. Then you can wail on him all you want. Provided, of course, that you leave
out the part of me possibly mentioning it."
"Whatever."
Edward was walking down from his bedroom when I entered the house. He was so
cute, dressed in sweats and a bathrobe. He carried a roll of toilet paper and a plastic bag that
looked full of used tissues.
As Mrs. Evans was sitting in the living room, I kept my promise and didn't berate
him about the laptop. I would have felt bad doing it while he was sick anyway. Instead I said,
"I'm sorry to make you do this when you aren't feeling well. I didn't think we'd–"
He held up a halting finger. "Galadriel, Galadriel, Galadriel," he paused.
"HATCHOO!"
"Okay… what was that?"
Edward unwrapped some toilet paper from his roll. "Jasper says if I say 'Galadriel'
when I feel a sneeze coming on, it'll stop it from happening."
"Clearly an infallible plan," I said, irritated at the mere mention of Jasper.
"It was working this morning." Edward turned to blow his nose.
Pretending the loud foghorn noises weren't coming from the boy I constantly made-
out with, I carried on. "I didn't think we'd get another chance to do this before the end of
baseball season if we didn't do it today."
"You're probably right," he said. "Where are your presentation boards?"
"I've got a PowerPoint presentation that I can hook up to your parent's big screen."
"You're going all tech-savvy on me? That sort of turns me on." Rarely, if ever, did
Edward make me blush nowadays. That particular comment made the blood rush to my
cheeks quicker than I ever recalled. "Sorry, it's the medication. It makes me foggy and say
things without a filter."
"It's quite all right," I said, debating if I should mention my wish that he say stuff like
that more often.
"Let's get this show on the road!" Mrs. Evans called from the living room. "I have
Bingo tonight."
We took the next few minutes to set up our individual presentations, and then Mrs.
Evans and I sat down to listen to Edward first. He presented an analysis of the quarterly
figures, stopping every once in a while to sneeze (which was an affair in itself, since he
insisted on trying to stop the sneezes with his stupid Galadriel ritual). He then showed us a
few of the new t-shirt designs he had found time to come up with over the last months as
we ooh'd and aah'd.
"This next one I'm sure is going to be a huge hit." He removed a foam-core board
from the easel to reveal another design. It read: Speak Friend and Enter Your Phone Number.
"Obviously another shirt for the LotR line, this t-shirt design was…" he hesitated and I tried
to stifle my impatience at what was coming. "Galadriel, Galadriel, Galadri-HATCHOO!"

  185  
 "You know what? Maybe you should try a different word?" I suggested. "Perhaps
Dumbledore or Quidditch?"
Edward gave me a look, then turned back to his presentation board. "This t-shirt
design was actually submitted by my friend, Jasper Whitlock."
"Your Lord of the Rings friend who runs a website we're affiliated with?" Mrs. Evans
asked.
"Yes. This brings me to my next item on the agenda." He removed the t-shirt design
board to reveal a large photo of Jasper smiling cheekily at the camera, wearing a MyT-Spot
staff hat. "I'd like to propose making Jasper a member of our permanent staff."
Though my limbs hardened with marblesque stillness, my heart began beating wildly
in my chest. I could hear Edward talking about what an asset Jasper would be to our team,
how he'd already contributed countless designs and invaluable experience and blah, blah,
blah. I could only focus on one thing: Jasper Whitlock was taking over my life. Participating
on a minor scale was one thing, but become a full-fledged member of a project I had
devoted so much of my life to?
"No," I heard myself say.
Edward stopped his presentation immediately. "What was that?"
I looked him straight in the eye. "No." This was my job. My life. Mine.
"Can't we at least discuss it?" He was visibly shocked at my reaction.
"No, Edward. Just, no."
He stood there gaping at me. Never before in a MyT-Spot meeting had I disputed
his ideas or outright shut him down. But this was non-negotiable and he could see it in my
eyes.
"Maybe we should move on," Mrs. Evans pressed over the awkward silence.
Shuffling through his notes briefly, Edward tried to reestablish himself. "That was
actually all I had." He was clearly shaken by my snub.
"I guess it's my turn, then." I stood and turned on the TV for my PowerPoint.
"We are discussing this later," Edward mumbled when he passed me on his way to
the couch.
I remained impervious to his anger. "Fine." Once the fury at the idea of Jasper
joining the work team passed, I'd have to figure out how to explain it to Edward. He at least
deserved that.
Putting Jasper out of my mind, I focused on the introduction of my presentation,
which was on enhancements to the social environment of MyT-Spot. Edward glared through
the first half of my speech. I was almost relieved when he changed his attitude and took on a
disinterested façade. I launched into my first suggestion of adding in a discussion forum to
make the shopping experience interactive.
"We can build a stronger fan base for our account holders. We already have
somewhat of a cult following, proven by the amount of repeat traffic that comes to the site."
Mrs. Evans nodded in approval. "I like this a lot. Good thinking! Edward, how do
you feel about it?"
Edward looked at PowerPoint for barely a moment. "That's fine," he said with an air
of boredom.
"Great!" Mrs. Evans said, unaffected by Edward's lame attitude. "It's unanimous,
then. We'll turn MyT-Spot into a social hub. What's next?"
"This next idea is a bit more of a leap, but something that could take the site to a
whole other level not yet witnessed by the web." This was the change I was sure Edward

  186  
would hate the most. "I've started working on a technology that can allow people to create
and upload their own designs. They can set up online shops on MyT-Spot and sell their
merchandise. We can print and ship the designs on demand–"
"No," Edward interrupted. I ignored him.
"–and take a profit from every shirt sold as a merchant's fee–"
"No," Edward said more adamantly. "That's not what our website is about. What
would happen to our entire product line?"
"You can set up a shop, too. It would be a great way to test the prototype once I'm
done building it."
"No, Bella. Just, no."
My eyes narrowed. "Is this because I said no to Jasper or because you selfishly can't
see that this website could become about more than you? Or perhaps both?"
"I'm against this idea because it's clearly insa–"
"Shush, Edward," said Mrs. Evans, sitting forward. "Bella, can you really design this?
It's incredibly advanced."
"It would take a lot of work and a small financial investment on your part. But I've
researched this relentlessly over the past few months and have started to learn how to code
and build software that could achieve this."
"Didn't anyone hear me?" Edward asked. "I already said no. Since that's apparently
the new system we're implementing to make decisions, I say my decision goes."
"Bella could completely revolutionize the website," Mrs. Evans said. "You should
listen to her, instead of acting like a stubborn ass." Mrs. Evans was the bomb!
"Yes, it will change the structure of MyT-Spot – into something completely
unrecognizable. "
"That's because it will be better," she said.
"Why didn't you ask me about this in private before now?" he hissed at me.
"When exactly would I do that?"
"You could have made time. It was completely unfair of you to spring this on me."
"Yeah, because I wasn't surprised at all when you suggested making Jasper a full-time
staffer." Edward tried to reply, but I wasn't having it. "Besides, it's not like we could really
talk in the thirty minutes I see you at lunch. Or did you want me to simply join you in the
locker room after practice? I'm sure your baseball buddies would love to sit around and hear
me talk about MyT-Spot."
"Oh, dear." Mrs. Evans hung her head. "You figured out what that rhymes with."
"You know very well that there's been plenty of time and opportunities to bring this
up before now." Edward sat back angrily.
"You mean because you've cancelled this meeting five times to accommodate
baseball practice? You realize if you hadn't been so busy with non-work related things, you
would have known about this weeks ago."
"Great! Here we go!" Edward's voice cracked on the exclamation. "I'm a horrible
person because I'm trying something new. Of course, I am."
"Oh right, because I haven't been supportive at all," I sniped acerbically. "And I'm
the worst girlfriend in the world because every day while you are out there playing baseball
with your best buddy, I'm actually working! Maybe if you had once asked what I was doing,
we wouldn't be having this discussion right now!"
"Don't pretend like we haven't had any free-time to ourselves to talk about MyT-
Spot related things."

  187  
 "Really? So you'd prefer us to talk business instead of making–" I stopped myself in
the nick of time, aware that his grandma was sitting not seven feet away, "ah, time for
watching movies. I think that's a splendid idea."
Edward's lips tightened and his eyes bulged. "You wouldn't dare," he said in a harsh
whisper. "You enjoy watching movies as much as I do."
"Try me."
"Excuse me," Mrs. Evans said. "I do speak teenager and I know exactly what you are
saying. I request that you stop immediately for my mental well-being." Edward looked away
in embarrassment. I giggled. "Now, Edward, you are being completely irrational. Consider
what Bella is proposing."
Edward turned on his grandma. "Why are you defending her ideas and not mine?"
"Oh, sweetie," Mrs. Evans reached over and patted him on the knee, "because her
ideas are actually good."
That was the wrong thing to say and Mrs. Evans totally knew it. Edward looked like
he was about to explode, and she was acutely enjoying it. He looked funny with his hair
shooting every which way and his face the shade of a tomato.
"Fine. Bella can have her enhancements on the website if we can take on Jasper as an
employee." Edward's calm tone was at war with the ire of his countenance. "There'll be a lot
more work and we can certainly use the extra hand."
"No," I said again, this time more resolutely.
"Bella, I'm compromising here. Have you ever heard of a compromise?"
He'd never spoken to me so condescendingly before and it pissed me the hell off.
"How about this for a compromise? You hire Jasper and I'll quit. Then you don't have to put
up with my improvements for the website."
Edward gaped at me, looking for all the world as though he'd been slapped in the
face.
Carlisle cleared his throat from the living room door. "So sorry for the intrusion, but
I couldn't help overhearing the dulcet, yet earsplitting, tones of two young people in love
quarreling." When nobody said a word to counter his assessment, he said, "I merely come
with a request–"
"We'll keep it down," I said, not taking my eyes off Edward. He was sizing me up,
trying to figure out how serious I was about my threat.
"It's not so much the volume I mind. It's more the notion that you might break up
again. We're getting old, and I don't think either Charlie or I could take it."
I almost laughed. Adults were so silly. "We're not breaking up. We're fighting," I said
calmly. The corners of Edward's mouth twitched at my words. Yeah, even with Edward all
gross-looking and sick, fighting with him was still hot.
"All right." Carlisle clapped his hands. "As long as it's only an impassioned row and
not an untimely end to your relationship, have at him, Bella. Mrs. Evans, would you care to
join me for a cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you. This is still a business meeting after all," Mrs. Evans declined
joyfully.
"Elizabeth," Carlisle insisted.
She sighed and stood up. "I suppose if you're going to use my name like that. But
can you blame me? The arguments of youth are so dang adorable," she said as they walked
out of the room. "Especially with your son's head of hair."

  188  
 Edward raised a hand to his head and started patting his mane down. "How bad
does it look?"
"It's adorable. Didn't you hear her?"
He pouted and sat back, hugging his roll of toilet paper like a teddy bear. Of course
this imagery was annihilated with the next words out of his mouth. "What is your problem?"
"Oh, it's my problem," I said. "What's your problem?"
"You don't like Jasper."
"I like Jasper just fine." When he wasn't being a douche.
"You threatened to quit if I hired him. That doesn't exactly show the love. So I
repeat, what is your problem?"
I wasn't ready to go down that path yet. How did I tell Edward that his best friend
questioned my love and devotion for him that afternoon? Speaking of which…
"Do you think you love me more than I love you?" Edward was stunned by the
question, so I didn't bother to wait for his reply. "Because that's ridiculous! It's obvious I
love you more than you love me. I've proven that time and time again."
"Whoa! One second there, Missy. What the hell are you talking about? Yes, you have
proven that you love me, but certainly not more than I love you."
"Oh, come on! I sit in a stadium every damn day and watch you play baseball! That is
love."
"Because you have to! I, on the other hand, didn't have to join Musical Theater for
you, and did!"
"I sat through Fellowship of the Rings seventeen times in theaters!"
"I sat through Harry Potter and dressed up as him in front of the entire school!"
"I dressed up as Arwen!"
"I gave you a scrapbook!"
"I gave you an Evenstar!"
"I gave you a laptop!" The second he said it, he slapped a hand over his mouth.
I austerely crossed my arms and gave him The Look. He had no idea I already knew
he'd been behind the gift, and I got a sort of sick pleasure from his eyes pleading with me to
forgive him.
"I'm so very sorry about that," he said, removing his hand. I tilted my head, but
remained silent. "Well, not about giving you the laptop," he said unsurely. "I'm happy I did
that; you should have seen the light in your eyes. But I do apologize for possibly
exaggerating the truth a teeny bit."
I quirked an eyebrow, my lips pressed firmly together.
"And I'll let you win the next two arguments," he persisted, "and let you make the
changes you want to the website, since I know you've been working hard using the laptop.
And you're beautiful and very pretty and smart and funny and I love you more than you can
ever know."
I rolled my eyes. "I do know, because I love you more. After all, I did see you first."
"That's only a technicality. Anyway, it's irrelevant since I asked you out first."
"Which is the boy's duty. However, I said 'I love you' first." He opened his mouth to
refute the point. "Elvish does not count."
He frowned. "You called me gay."
"It was a reasonable question! Besides, you didn't talk to me for a week after Alice
got her claws into me!"
"I was getting over the fact you looked like a clown! I'm not a fan of make-up."

  189  
 "You were a fan of make-up when I touched your zit."
"Yeah, well, I touched your…" he struggled for a quick beat, "lips."
I snorted. "Oh, the trials you must endure."
"Yeah, that was lame," he admitted. "I love your lips."
"Thank you. But not more than I love your lips."
"You're the one who was threatening to withhold make-out sessions not ten minutes
ago."
"Yeah, and you're the one who implied my lips were a bad thing not ten seconds
ago."
His eyes narrowed. "I beat up Mike Newton."
Damn. He had me there. I'd never hit anyone in my life. "Enough of this. I love you
more and that's that." I turned to leave the room. I'd already gotten what I'd wanted anyway.
He'd agreed to make the website changes.
"Hey! Don't you walk away from me!" he yelled, catching the palm of my hand.
I whipped around, loving it when he got all fiery and demanding like that. He was
staring at me all intense and impassioned-like. Oh fuck, I wanted him!
"You can't understand how much I love you, because even I don't understand it
sometimes. It goes beyond even my comprehension, Bella." He paused and started shaking
his head slowly back in forth. "Not now. Bella, Bella, Bella, Bella, Bell–"
"Wha–"
"HATCHOO!" he sneezed. He had tried to turn away in time, but my left cheek still
caught the brunt of it.
"I am so sorry!" he exclaimed, completely mortified as he hastily sprinted to the
couch for his toilet paper.
"That was disgusting," I said, taking the soft tissue from him and wiping my cheek
off. "But I still love you. I may not have a pretty speech at the ready, but that has to count
for something."
He smirked. "I suppose it does. Disagree to disagree?"
"I think the phrase is agree to disagree."
"When do we ever agree on anything?"
I thought about it. "Good point."
"Can you tell me one thing?"
"I suppose," I answered vaguely, wondering how long I needed to wait until it was
polite to run to the bathroom to scrub my face clean.
He took my hand and led me over to the couch, situating us so we were close but
facing each other. He took one steadying breath as if to prepare himself, then asked softly,
"Why don't you like Jasper?"
As I looked into his anxious green eyes, I knew this was the point where I had to
make a decision. I could tell Edward all about how I felt Jasper was pushing him too far,
how annoyed and sometimes hurt I was that he'd taken so much from our relationship, and
how out-of-line he was today at lunch when he questioned my affections.
But Edward was an extreme person and he loved me more than life itself. If he felt
for a second that something was threatening our relationship, he would eliminate it swiftly.
That wasn't what I wanted to happen. Edward needed a friend, this I had always known, and
for all my annoyances with Jasper, I knew he was perfect for the part.
I found it ironic that the biggest sacrifice I'd ever make to prove my love for Edward
was the one I'd never tell him.

  190  
 "It's not that I don't like Jasper," I said carefully. "It's that… well, pretend he's cake."
"Cake?" Edward repeated.
"Yeah, he's cake. I like cake a lot. I enjoy eating it maybe a couple times a month, but
if I were to eat it every day, I'd get sick of it."
Edward contemplated my analogy. "I can understand that. But you know, cake's my
favorite food. I could probably eat it everyday and never get sick of it."
"But you'd get fat," I pointed out.
"True. I think your analogy works differently for me, though. I think you're my cake,
and Jasper's more like the frosting. Cake's fantastic whether you have frosting or not, but it
adds a little something extra."
I smiled. "So, I'm the cake and Jasper lays on top of me?"
He crinkled his nose. "I don't like that visual. Please don't say stuff like that."
"Fair enough," I chuckled, maneuvering myself so I was comfortably in his arms.
"But you know what this means?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
He kissed my forehead gently. "You really are my little Cuddlecake."
I groaned. "Shut up, Sparkle Queen."

Days later, as Edward and I reflected on the third huge battle in our relationship, we
determined it had been the culmination of a year's worth of frustrations. It had been
refreshing to air our dirty relationship laundry and it almost felt like we were in the
honeymoon stage of our relationship again. I wasn't sure how I was going to manage an
entire summer in Florida without him, but we decided to worry about that later.
We also decided that we needed to try arguing again when he wasn't sick. Fighting
was freaking hot.
There was only one more thing I needed to do to get closure on my eventful
weekend. I found Alice sitting behind the old soda machine in Freshman Hall fiddling with
her stupid Magic 8-Ball. I sat down beside her and said, "Congratulations, Miss Elizabeth
Bennet. You've got yourself a Fairy Godmother."
She scoffed. "As in, Miss Elizabeth Bennet your mouse? What, are you going to turn
me into a coachman?"
It was so like her to twist the witty line I'd been working on for the past two hours.
"No, idiot, I'm going to turn you into Cinderella."
She tried to control her expression, but her blindingly white teeth still flashed as she
said, "I know. Trelawney never lies."
All signs pointed to yes.

  191  
 Chapter 23: A Farewell to Tenth Grade 2003 - 2004

As a morale booster, Charlie had suggested an end-of-the-year Forks High Faculty

versus Spartans baseball game, wherein the teaching staff would lose spectacularly and the
boys would feel better that they hadn't won a single game all season. The Principal had
ordered mandatory attendance from the entire student body, so everyone had trudged down
to the field on the last day of school to show their support.
The problem was, even with most of the faculty trying to lose, they were still kicking
ass. Ms. Cope had played minor league baseball in her youth and seemed to be taking out
fifteen years of administrative frustrations on the Forks High baseball team; she was striking
out batters like cheerleaders did Eric Yorkie.
The first eight innings hadn't been too painful to watch, however, due to the
Spartans' significant improvement in the field. The faculty was winning by a two-run lead.
We had runners on first and second, with one out, in the bottom of the ninth. With Jasper
up at the bat, we had a real chance at winning this.
Though tensions were high both on the field and in the stands, it didn't stop the
passing of yearbooks or the general splendor that came with the last day of school. Nor did
it prevent the students from cheering wildly when Jasper walked up to home plate. As
always, he waved enthusiastically to the roaring crowd and I repressed an eye roll. He would
be unbearable tonight after he won the game and became the school hero. For my part, I
would only celebrate the end of baseball season.
Jasper took his stance, and I decided now would be a good time to finish signing
yearbooks.

Dear Bella Radcliffe,

Wow, this has been such a great year!

I'm going to miss you so much this summer
while you're in Florida.

At least you'll be here for the midnight showing

of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban!
Miss you already and remember - Dan Radcliffe
may be hot but Tom Felton is dead sexy!

~Angela Felton

Angela, are you crazy?

Bella RADCLIFFE? Edward is going to freak!

I thought you were my BFF, but now I must

disown you (at least until HP3, since I don't
want to go to the midnight showing by myself).

  192  
I'l l miss you too, but this will give you plenty
of alone time to work on Ben. We'l l talk every
week! Pinky Promise!

Bella

To the biggest Daniel Radcliffe fan ever,

What a year! I'm so glad I could share it
with you! Don't let anyone ruin your dream
of Harry Potter! Always follow your heart!
You can brighten any room you walk into!
~Love~
Cynthia Kay Brandon
555-9532
Cynthiakay@yahoo.com
Hey Cynthia,

Thanks for your help on

our little project this year.
Jasper's just perfect.

Have a good summer.

Bella

Hola Bella Swan,

But I guess if you really want to

you can be a Radcliffe.

Hey… what are you looking at?

Do you want to fight? Do you want to box?

Come on lets fight. JK!

HAKAS, HAGS, KITKAT, & so on.

Woohoo for summer!

Eric
AIM: philosopha88
Yahoo: ericsworld88
MSA: smoochespooches88
e-mail: eric_yorkie@netscape.com

Eric,
Have a sidesplitting summer, you nerd.
Bella

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Bella Radcliffe, eh?
Stalker!
So Cullen's out of the picture?
Give me a call!
Austin
555-9769
Austin,

What charm you have.

Not many men would call a
girl a stalker, then endeavor
to ask her out.
Bella

P.S. Still with Edward and

always will be.

Bella Radcliffe?
Does the word "overkill" mean anything to you?
Rosalie Hale

Rosalie,
Does the word "overkill" mean anything to YOU?
Bella

Masta B!

(that's your rap name)

Have a wonderful summer and

go Harry Potter 3!

Mischief Managed,
Emmett McCarty
P.S. You have great taste in books/movies!
Emmett,
I applaud YOUR taste
of books and movies!
Have a Very Harry Summer!
Bella

Bella,
It's been a fun year! Kinda scary
with you all love sick over a child,
but fun!
Can't wait for next year to commence
your diabolical plot!
Your Dirty Little Secret

  194  
Alice, three things:
A) Dan is not a child.
B) The only person I'm "love sick" over
is my darling boyfriend, EDWARD.
C) As if you're one to talk, Stalker

"Strike three!" rang loudly through the air and I whipped my head up from the
yearbook I was signing to see Jasper throw his bat down on home plate and storm back to
the dugout.
I turned to Alice. "Jasper struck out?" She looked just as shocked as I did. That had
never, ever happened before. "Oh, Godric. That means…" Slowly, I turned back to the field
and, sure enough, my worst fears were confirmed.
Edward looked to be trembling from head to toe as he pulled on his batting gloves
and picked up his bat. No, no, no, no, no… this could not happen! Edward hadn't hit a ball
all season, and to lose the last game in front of the entire school? It would devastate him!
I jumped up from my seat and started jogging down the bleacher steps, ignoring the
disappointed mutters of my classmates, who were now resigned to another Spartan loss.
Once I had reached the break above the dugout, I hissed over the railing, "Jasper, what the
hell did you do that for?"
"It's not like I did it on purpose!" he said. "I think Ms. Cope still hates me for the
time I called her a red-headed, fat chicken freshmen year. Don't look at me like that! She
gave me a detention for being tardy. Tardy. She deserved it!"
"Great! Now my boyfriend is screwed." I watched Edward walk up to the plate. He
was still quaking, but his shoulders were set in a determinately unyielding manner. He
wanted this.
Jasper ran a hand over his face. "Look, Edward can do it. He's hit balls during
practice."
"Not from someone like Ms. Cope! The pitchers were throwing soft in practice –
you know that."
"Have a little faith. He just needs the right motivation."
And just like that, it hit me. "Dad!" I called, turning and running down another flight
of cement stairs to the field. "Dad! Call a time-out!" I yelled.
Charlie looked over at me in bewilderment but signaled the principal, who was acting
as umpire, to hold the game.
"You have to put me in," I said, panting from the sprint. "I need to go in as the
catcher."
"Bella, slow down. Breathe. Explain."
"I want to go in as the catcher. It's the motivation Edward needs to hit the ball."
"No, absolutely not," he said. "It's too dangerous. Shelly's pitching like a spitfire
from hell. I don't think she ever got over the time I rejected her invitation to Sadie Hawkins
and took your mother instead."
"This is Edward we are talking about. If that ball is barreling toward me, do you really
think it's going to get anywhere close?"
Charlie considered it for a moment. "Even if that were the case, it's against the rules.
I can't ask a player from the opposing team to sit out so I can put you in his place."

  195  
 "It's a freaking faculty game! It doesn't count, and you're practically the boss anyway.
Change the rules for Edward."
He was already shaking his head. "I'm sorry, honey. It's still too dangerous."
I glanced helplessly at Edward. The emotions behind his eyes ranged from irritated
to relieved to downright mystified by what we were up to. "Dad, he's my heart and soul. He
needs this. He needs to hit one ball this season. Just one ball. I can give that to him. I know
it. If I love him, I'll do this for him." Charlie looked halfway convinced, so I brought it
home. "You would have done it for mom."
He looked away quickly, then back at me. "It's your mother that's going to kill me if
you get hurt. So don't, okay?"
I jumped on him in excitement. "Thank you so much."
"Crowley! Give Bella your catching equipment!" he said over my head. He stepped
back and put his hands on my shoulders. "Get suited up, Swan. I'm gonna go talk to
Benson."
"Yes, coach," I saluted him, before turning into the dugout and pulling off my jacket.
"You heard the man. Give me your equipment." Tyler looked baffled, as did every boy in the
dugout, but did as he was told and handed over his gear.
"What the hell are you doing?" Jasper asked as I latched the shin guards.
"Giving him the motivation he needs." I slipped on the chest protector and mask,
which were way too big for me, making me look like a toddler playing dress up. "Ugh, these
smell disgusting."
"Damn right they do!" Tyler said proudly. "That's the good ol' stench of man stank."
"This is not a good idea. Edward is going to freak out," Jasper said, sufficiently
distracting me from complete revulsion.
"Edward is going to hit a ball." I adjusted the mask to fit the size of my head. "Have
a little faith."
When I walked onto the field, I could hear the student body tittering about my
appearance. Some seemed amused; others seemed to think it was outright hilarious. I took a
deep breath and ignored them all. I was doing this for Edward.
Speaking of Edward, he was glaring at me as he eavesdropped on Charlie and
Principle Benson's conversation. I waved and smiled. He dropped the bat and ran to where I
was standing. "What's going on?" he asked, incensed.
"Judging by the look on your face, I'm assuming you caught the drift of it from my
father," I said, having expected this reaction.
"What the hell are you thinking?" he screeched. After that, I only caught bits and
pieces of a wayward rant. "No way in fucking hell… fucking dangerous… fucking insane… I
fucking love you, but fucking no."
"Aw, I love you too," I said, reaching up and running a finger over his right cheek. It
was where I had put the eye-black to cover his pimple before the first game of the season. It
had become our gesture for good luck. He caught my hand and placed a kiss on my palm.
"You are crazy," he grumbled.
"And don't you just love it?"
"You smell horrible."
I laughed. "I know. The things I do for love."
"There's no way this is happening."
"Cullen," Charlie barked from directly over Edward's shoulder, making him jump.
"Did I say you could leave home plate? Get back over there and get ready."

  196  
 Edward took a deep breath and looked my father in the eye. "Coach, I respectfully
decline if Bella is going to be the catcher. I put her safety above any delusions of grandeur I
might have about winning this game."
Charlie raised his eyebrows. "That's valiant, but last time I checked, it was none of
your business who the opposing team's catcher was. It's your job to hit the ball. Now get
your ass over there, and do your job," he said in a voice so menacing, I couldn't blame
Edward for scampering straight to home plate.
"Now, my dearest daughter," Charlie turned to me, "according to Principal Benson
I'm not allowed to sue the school if you get hurt. So jump out of the ball's way if you have to
so I don't end up with any medical bills. Wear this mitt, it'll fit you better," he handed me a
sturdy, beat-up glove.
"Thanks, Dad." It was still large on my hand, but it didn't matter since I wouldn't be
catching the ball anyway.
"And Bella?" Charlie said. "I'm proud of you for following your heart."
"I'm proud of you too, for coaching this season. You did an amazing job."
"Well, I don't know about that," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Trust me," I said, before walking to home plate where Edward was standing stiffly.
"I cannot even begin to tell you the many reasons this is not a good idea," he started
as soon as I was within earshot. "I don't think Ms. Cope's ever gotten over the time I went
above her head to get my schedule changed from Yearbook Class to Musical Theater. That
woman is a beast."
"I'm here. I'm doing this. Get over it and hit the damn ball."
"Ms. Swan, are you sure you want to do this?" Principal Benson asked.
"Positive."
"Then you stand here." He pointed to a spot further behind Edward. "Crouch down
and hold out your glove." I did as he directed, wobbling the glove in front of me.
"Principal Benson, surely you must see reason. She can't even hold the mitt steady!"
Edward said.
"Hush, Mr. Cullen. She's doing fine."
"Yes, I'm doing fine," I repeated. "Now, don't you dare let that ball hit me."
Edward sighed. He took his stance at the plate, providing me with a spectacular view
of his ass… uh, assets. Geez, my boyfriend was fine. All toned and muscular.
"Now, Ms. Swan," Principal Benson broke into my naughty thoughts, "you are going
to signal to Ms. Cope that you are prepared for her to pitch,"
I glanced up at Ms. Cope on the pitcher's mound. She, like all the teachers, looked
surprised at our antics. She also looked a little pissed. It was intimidating. I gave her a sort of
extravagant wave to indicate we were ready, then abruptly turned my face away and closed
my eyes. I didn't want to see it coming if the ball did hit me.
"Bella!" Edward snapped. "You're not looking! How are you going to catch the ball if
you're not looking?"
"The plan is not for me to catch the ball. You have to hit the ball so I don't have to
catch it, and how are you going to do that if you're looking at me," I shot back, still keeping
my eyes closed. Crouching here in the dusty red dirt with my body bogged down in
protective gear, it was all becoming real.
"This isn't a good idea. You know I can't hit!"
"Yes, you can. I trust you," I said more for my benefit than his. I trusted Edward. He
wouldn't let the ball anywhere near me. I would not freak out.

  197  
 "She's winding up to pitch," Principal Benson said and the fear gripped me. A very
fast ball was going to come flying at my face! Holy shit, what was I thinking?
"Oh, my God, don't let it hit me!" I shouted just before there was a swishing noise
and a loud crack. I opened my eyes. Edward was holding the bat stationary at full swing. The
baseball was in flight, soaring somewhere over left field.
"You hit the ball! Run! Run! Go!" I screamed, jumping up.
It didn't take Edward any more prompting than that. He dropped the bat and
sprinted towards first base. Probably because the teachers were trying to lose, Mr. Banner
didn't catch the fly ball. When he recovered it, though he should have thrown to third base
or home plate, he rocketed the ball several feet wide of first base, long after Edward had
made the turn for second. A series of coincidental bad throws and stumbles, that probably
weren't coincidental at all, followed.
But that didn't matter. It didn't matter that we won the game or that the students in
the stands were going crazy. All that mattered was that Edward was rounding the bases with
the broadest, most beautiful smile and running home to me. I stripped off my mask and
glove and stood right at home plate with my arms opened wide.
He ran straight into them and swung me around wildly.
"You did it! You did it," I squealed over and over again as I clung to him.
He put me down, resting his hands on my hips. "We did it," he whispered, and then
leaned down and fervently pressed his lips to mine.
Principal Benson cleared his throat a couple times before we could be bothered to
stop making out on home plate, and only then it was because the entire baseball team had
bum-rushed Edward to offer their thanks and congratulations.
As the crowd filtered from the stands onto the field and threatened to overpower us,
he held my hand tighter so we wouldn't be divided.
I squeezed back. No, Edward, I will never let you go.

June 2, 2004

My Dearest Cuddlecake,

How have I been fortunate enough to find someone as generous as you? What woman would sacrifice half

as much or act half as idiotic, just to make me happy?

As Mr. Darcy once asks Lizzie Bennet, "What do I not owe you?" You have given me a friend in Jasper.

More preciously, you have given me your heart and soul. And today, you have given me one of the three

best moments of my life (just behind the first time you told me you loved me and the first time we

kissed).

I'll admit, for a moment there I thought you'd gone mental when you put on the catcher's equipment. But

you know me from the inside out and somehow managed to figure out the one thing I needed to hit a

baseball. I realize now you were doing for me a small portion of the magnitudinous sacrifices I

would make for you without a second thought.

  198  
I don't know what I have done to deserve you, but I promise to spend the rest of my life attempting to

live up to the man you are worthy of.

Your Loving Babe Ruth

(aka: Swirl)

P.S. To prove how much I love you, I'm not going to give you that hard a time over how many of your

yearbook dedications cite your surname as "Radcliffe." Let it be known, though, that one day you are

going to be the most beautiful Cullen that ever was.

Edward,

Today was one of the happiest in my life. To see you so ecstatic about hitting the ball and
scoring a home run made me so freaking thrilled!

I'm absolutely dreading our summer apart, but I'l l keep the memory of you running to home
plate with me always. Know that I will go to any lengths to make you that happy again and
again. Just promise me one thing in return? Stop calling me Cuddlecake!

Love Always,
Bella

P.S. I do look forward to the day you call me Mrs. Cullen. That's one name I won't ever
banish from your lips. ;-)

  199  
 Chapter 24: The First Time They Said Goodbye

The Goodbye Scene: The timeless moment in a romantic novel or movie wherein
the young couple in love utter a dramatic farewell before parting ways. It's been featured in
such classics as Moulin Rouge, Titanic, Pearl Harbor, and Crossroads. The scene is always
poignant and touching, sealed with the most heartrending kiss.
I'd anticipated something similar on the eve of my departure to Florida to visit my
mom and Edward's to Oregon for baseball camp. I'd expected us to cling to each other
mercilessly, muttering our final I-love-yous and goodbyes, until Charlie came and callously
ripped us apart.
Instead, I was lying by myself on a couch in the movie room. Edward sat on the
floor in front of me. We were watching XXX (the motion picture, not porn – though the
latter might have been a vast improvement). It was pathetic. Not only the movie, but the fact
that Vin Diesel was getting more action than I was. Wasn't he gay?
"I think we should talk," I said over the movie.
"About what?"
"Oh, I don't know. The weather, perhaps. Or the next Star Wars movie. And maybe
if we can fit it in, the fact that we're not going to see each other for the next month."
"I didn't know you were into Star Wars."
I balked. "Aren't you going to miss me at all?"
"Of course I'm going to miss you. How can you ask that?" he asked, turning to face
me. "How can you even fathom that I'm not going to miss you every second of every minute
that you're away from me?"
"Because you're acting all normal."
"I'm trying not to think about it. There's a distinction."
I studied his expression. "I take it back. You're not acting normal at all. If you were,
you'd have attacked me ten minutes into this God-awful movie."
Edward smirked. "Would you like me to kiss you? You know I'm always more than
willing."
I turned back to the movie. "Forget it. You killed the mood. The mood is dead.
Gone – just like I'll be tomorrow."
"You're being very dramatic about this." There was laughter in his voice, darkening
my mood further. "It'll be a month. You'll be having a blast with your mom, and I'll be busy
with baseball camp. The time is going to fly."
I sat up heatedly and dropped his hand. "Whatever happened to 'I'm going to miss
you every second of every minute I'm away from you?' " I said, giving it my best Edward-
impression.
"What I meant is we're going to have other things on our minds," he said. "Do I
really sound like that to you? The delivery seemed uncannily feminine. My voice broke at
least three years ago."
"So, our looming separation is funny to you?"
"That's not what I meant and you know it. You're overreacting." Was I overreacting?
Maybe… but I really didn't think I was. "Look, I promise we'll talk on the phone every night.
I'll use the manliest voice I can muster so you'll have a better imitation of me when you get

  200  
back. It'll be kind of cool because, if you think about it, we'll be talking across time. I'll be
speaking to you tomorrow, during today."
"What is cool about that?"
He shrugged. "It's interesting."
There was a knock on the door, Carlisle and Esme's signal for us to straighten up if
we were engaged in any activities other than watching a movie. Seeing as we weren't doing
anything compromising (to my extreme disappointment), I called, "Come in."
Esme popped her head through the door. "Your dad's here to pick you up."
"Okay, I'll be right there." I stood up and stretched. We followed Esme out to the
front hallway, where Charlie and Carlisle were huddled by the door in a fanatical debate. My
dad was shaking his head, clearly at odds with what Carlisle was saying.
"That isn't possible," Charlie said as I neared the front door. "The timeline is the
same throughout the first and second sequences of events. Buckbeak never died in the first
sequence, just like Harry never had his soul sucked out by the dementors. The time-turner
doesn't change anything; it gives the user the ability to prevent it from happening in the first
place."
I amusedly looked between the two men. "What are you up to?"
Carlisle ran a hand through his blond hair. "Your father was just explaining why he
thinks it's impossible for someone to use a time-turner to go back in time and kill Lord
Voldemort when he was a baby."
"I don't think. I know. Because Voldemort lives now, it proves any attempt to
murder him as an infant would fail."
"He's right," I said proudly. In an attempt to relate to me better, Charlie was making
his way through the Harry Potter books.
"Thank you," Charlie said. "You ready to go?"
I glanced back at Edward. "Can I have a minute?"
He nodded, but pointed to his watch. Edward and I turned to each other in the
middle of the hallway. I was acutely conscious that all three adults were watching and
listening to us. That alone made any kind of impassioned goodbye completely out of the
question, even if Edward did give a crap.
"Well, I guess this is goodbye," I said.
"But not for long." He ran a soothing finger down my arm. "Remember, the time
will fly and we'll see each other again before you know it."
My breath caught in my throat and I had no way to respond. I settled for gazing at
him, trying to memorize all the features of his face – the angle of his nose, the shades of
green in his eyes, the shape of his mouth. My eyes glazed over and I knew I was on the verge
of losing it.
"It's going to be all right. I promise," he whispered.
"Okay," I replied lamely. And because it was the most pitiful goodbye scene in the
history of goodbye scenes, I turned away from him and walked out the front door without
saying another word.

That night, I tossed and turned for several hours before drifting into an uneasy sleep.
Images of Edward leaving me weaved through my dreams, threads of a sinister tapestry.
Somewhere in the back of my brain I was aware that I was sleeping and tried to wake myself

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up, but my tired body wouldn't cooperate. Panic set in as the attempts to rouse myself
became increasingly futile. I was suffocating, trapped inside a useless carcass.
"No!" I felt my mouth scream, finally able to force my eyes open. I sat up slowly and
tried to calm my erratic breathing by laying my head on the stretched blanket between my
risen knees. The clock read 2:33 AM. There would be no getting back to sleep tonight. The
freakish nightmare of being stuck in an immobile body creeped me the hell out, and the
dismal parting with Edward earlier didn't sit well with me, either. It was so awful and unlike
us. The last word I'd said to him was, "Okay."
Edward's virtually impassive reaction to our separation drew to the forefront of my
mind. He didn't seem concerned about the distance or the time apart from each other. Could
he really not care or was I overreacting, as he'd said? No, he must care. If he loved me a
fraction of what he claimed, then he must. But why was he acting like he didn't? At the time,
I'd assumed it was because he figured Jasper and baseball would fill the void left in my
absence. Could it be something more than that?
My head jerked up as realization struck. Edward was in denial. Clearly, he hadn't
processed our imminent parting properly. It was practically a cry for help when he'd
desperately clung to me and promised it would be all right. He was trying to reassure
himself, not me! And all I'd said was "Okay."
To quote Hermione Granger in the movie version of Sorcerer's Stone, "How could I be
so stupid!" More importantly, how could I rectify it now? Edward was leaving in a few hours
for baseball camp and it'd be impossible to convince Charlie to drive me over to his house
so early in the morning.
What if the airplane went down tomorrow? Was I all right with that being the last
real memory Edward would have of me? And even if I did survive the flight, would I be able
to relax at all during my vacation knowing that I'd left him in such a desperate state, without
any reassurance of my love and affection? The answer was a resounding no.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I flipped my lights on and dug through the
laundry basket for yesterday's clothes to throw on. I scribbled two quick notes – one for
Charlie to let him know where I was if he found my empty bed and one for Edward.
Walking outside with the car keys in hand, I thanked God for the heavy wind that
would hopefully disguise the roar of Firebolt's engine, so as not to wake Charlie. I
contemplated the consequences of what I was about to do as I put the key in the ignition
and turned the truck on. This was a complete violation of Charlie's trust. Not only was I
sneaking out of his house in the middle of the night, I was driving without a driver's license.
I'm such a rebel, I thought gleefully, pealing out of the driveway.
The roads were eerie at this hour, shadowed by streetlamps casting the peculiar
shapes of trees, then dimming altogether as I drove further out of town. I thought of
everything short of what a bad idea this was. I was standing below Edward's window before
any real jitters could set in.
Now the question was how did I get up there? Because, ya know, my bold and daring
plan required me to do something entirely impossible, like sneak into my boyfriend's
bedroom while he was sleeping to leave a love note on his pillow.
I looked around for a way up to the second floor and spotted a drainpipe near his
window. People crawled up those in movies, but I highly doubted I possessed the skill set
necessary to pull that one off. The miniature flashlight on my key chain scanned the yard,
and I almost squealed in excitement when I spotted a folded, abandoned ladder hidden in

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the grove. I carefully maneuvered it so it was directly under Edward's window and started
climbing.
The window being mercifully unlocked, I opened it and crawled in, taking care not to
wake Edward with my passage. There was a dais right underneath the seal, which helped
with the landing and I let out a giant sigh of relief when I planted my feet on the floor.
It was only then that it struck me what a supremely idiotic plan this was. I was
standing in my boyfriend's bedroom, while he was sleeping. Can you say stalker? I was about
to climb right back out the window, when I heard a rustling noise from Edward's bed. I
froze, worried he'd caught me, but the sounds soon settled and were replaced by soft
snoring.
It was the rhythmic sound of his breathing that convinced me to stay. Someday,
safely wrapped in his arms and absolutely assured of his love, the sweet cadence of Edward's
breath would carry me off to sleep every night for the rest of my life. A phantom waft of
warm air ghosted over the skin on the back of my neck as I pictured what it would be like to
sleep cocooned in Edward. Goose pimples prickled where his imagined breath had kissed
me.
The moon dimly illuminated the room and it took my eyes a moment to adjust to the
darkness. I could make out shapes, like the frame of his bed and his packed suitcase next to
it, but I wanted to see more. I took silent steps forward, hands shaking and heart pounding,
not at the prospect of being caught, but rather at seeing what Edward looked like in slumber.
My breath may have stopped altogether when he came into view, as something increasingly
familiar coiled in my gut.
Edward wasn't wearing a shirt and his comforter was strewn down to his hips.
Baseball season had whipped him into shape and toned his body marvelously. He was
neither grossly buff nor awkwardly skinny, just a flawless kind of in between. My eyes
roamed from his bare chest to his peaceful face and I drank in every aspect of his features.
When had his cheekbones become so angular and sharp? When had his Adam's apple
become so defined? He really had grown up since eighth grade. He was absolute perfection.
My fingers grazed his rosy cheek, and a small, satisfied humming noise emanated
from the sleeping boy. I retracted my hand. He remained motionless and relaxed as ever, and
a daring and an aliveness that I had never felt before surged through me. Shakily reaching
back over, I brought my fingers to his chest and tenderly ran them across his pectorals.
He moaned at the movement, and a small giggle escaped me, giddy that even in his
sleep, Edward liked what I did to him.
"Bella?" he suddenly groaned. "Is tha' you?"
It took a couple beats to calm down enough to whisper, "Yes, it's me." I wasn't
afraid at being caught; I was thrilled.
He blinked tiredly. Instead of the disapproving, startled look I'd expected, he
appeared unsurprised, as if he knew I would be there. "Glad you came tonigh'," he mumbled
sleepily.
"Of course I came," I said. "I love you."
A goofy, half-grin crossed his face. "Love when you say tha'." He blindly groped
around for a moment, before finding my hand and bringing it to his lips. Then slowly, oh so
slowly, he started guiding my hand down his chest… down his abs… down there. Oh, my
God. Edward wanted me to touch his thing. Oh! My! God!
I was only minorly hyperventilating as my hand neared the promise land. This was so
unexpected and atypical of Edward, and the rebel in me cheered him on.

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 But then the moment was completely obliterated as the bedroom door flung open,
the lights flipped on, and someone shouted something about desisting. I whipped around to
find Carlisle swinging a bat menacingly in my direction. "It's me!" I screamed, raising my
hands above my head.
There was a yelp from behind me. I glanced back to see Edward staring at me with
wide eyes, bunching the comforter up to his chest as if to shield me from its nakedness.
Carlisle seemed to deflate upon recognizing me. "Goodness, Bella, you gave me a
heart attack," he panted, placing a hand over his chest to emphasize his point. "You set off
the silent alarm. I thought you were a burglar."
I cringed, grasping just how screwed I was now. "I'm sorry."
"Uh, what's going on?" Edward said.
"Yes. What are you doing here at," Carlisle glanced at his watch, "3:45 in the
morning?"
Shamefaced, I said, "I came to leave Edward this note." I pulled the folded piece of
paper out of my pocket, as if it officiated the pitiful story in some way.
Carlisle was visibly teetering between outrage and his usual compassionate self.
"Does Charlie know you're here? Of course he doesn't," he answered for me. "How did you
get here?"
I would have given almost anything to not answer that question. "I drove."
"You – you drove," Carlisle repeated, high-pitched and disbelieving. It took him at
least a minute to process this information and I chanced a fleeting look at Edward, who was
openly gaping at me.
"Esme!" Carlisle called so loudly I jumped. Esme appeared directly, holding the
portable phone up to her ear. "Tell the security company to nevermind. The only person in
danger is Bella when Charlie finds out." She nodded and started rattling something off over
the phone. "Bella, please come to my office. I need to call your father."
"I'll be right there." Carlisle nodded, then left the room. "Aren't you coming?" I said
to Edward, really not wanting to be alone with his parents after they caught me feeling up
their son in his sleep.
"I, uh, you know, I just need a min–minute." At my confused look, he glanced down
at his lap and blushed furiously.
"Oh! Right! You… take care of that."
Carlisle was already on the phone when I reached his office. Having psyched myself
out, I slid down the wall outside the doorway instead of entering. My head pounded the
drywall repeatedly as I listened to Carlisle first attempt to calm Charlie down, and then
proceed to tell him exactly where I was and how I got here. So. Grounded.
Thank God I was headed to Florida tomorrow, or I guessed, later today. There was
no way Renee would carry over a punishment from Charlie, especially one that involved me
doing something so terribly amorous as stalking my boyfriend. She lived for this kind of
stuff. As a matter of fact, she'd probably try to write it into one of the romance novels she
penned in her spare time. I snorted. Me and Renee: The only two people in the world who
could understand the romance of a good stalking.
Esme eventually came and sat down on the floor next to me. She didn't say anything
and I couldn't bring myself to so much as look in her direction. I was mortified. She
probably thought I was a hussy, hell-bent on stealing her son's virginity. Worse, I couldn't be
entirely positive I wasn't a hussy, hell-bent on stealing her son's virginity.

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 What happened in Edward's bedroom tonight was very confusing. What had come
over me? It was clear from his reaction that Edward hadn't been entirely lucid when he'd
starting dragging my hand down… there. If I was being honest, part of me had known he
wasn't. Still, I had cheered him on like some kind of pervert.
Even now, thinking about Edward just a few rooms away with his problem…
"I wasn't sneaking into your house to have sex with Edward," I blurted, just to stop
my mind from wandering.
I could practically hear Esme smile. "Don't worry. We trust you and Edward
completely. Well, maybe not so much with the car anymore. But with all things sex-related,
you have our every confidence."
Letting out a deep breath of relief, I managed something of a grimace in response.
"But you know," she said, "the day is going to come when Edward and you decide to
take that step. I want you to know, I'm always here for you to talk to if you have any
questions about protection or the technicalities of love-making."
My eyes practically bugged out of my head. "We're waiting for marriage," I said
automatically, not wanting a sex-talk from my eighth grade yearbook teacher and future
mother-in-law.
She bit her lip and I got the impression she was trying not to laugh. "I think that's an
admirable goal," she said. "But I remember what it was like to be young and in love."
This conversation was making me very uncomfortable. "But wouldn't talking about it
be weird for you? You're, like, his mom."
She grinned warmly and took my left hand in hers. "I am his mom. But I've also
grown to know you over the past two years, and I care about you. I know your mother isn't
here and even if she was…" I could tell Esme was choosing her words very carefully. "Well,
perhaps it wouldn't hurt if you got a second opinion. In fact, I'll schedule a spa date after you
get back from Florida for us girls. After all, I know first-hand what it's like to be attracted to
a Cullen man, and how hard it can be to wait."
I almost immediately took back my grateful prayer for Carlisle walking out of the
office and interrupting our conversation. Looking up at the older Cullen, a sudden, highly
disturbing image of a younger version of him and Esme doing it crossed my mind. I nearly
gagged right there in the hallway. I hated sex-talks.
"I just got off the phone with your dad," he said. "We'll figure out something to get
your truck home while you're in Florida. In the meantime, your father is going to be here any
minute. He wants you waiting downstairs on the porch for him."
"How mad is he?"
Carlisle raised his eyebrows. "I'll call in the morning to make sure you're still alive."
"Oh, right." I clamored to get up. "Remember that I want to be cremated, not
buried. I want my ashes spread, if possible, over Daniel Radcliffe's front lawn. And tell
Edward I love him."
"You can tell me yourself." Edward emerged from his bedroom, shutting the door
behind him. "I'll walk you to the front porch."
Things suddenly felt strange in his presence. I'd known and been with Edward for so
long, yet it felt like I was some silly girl, standing there hoping her crush wouldn't reject her
attempts to romance him – attempts that involved stalking.
It was stupid of me to be scared, so I put on a brave face and walked over to where
he was standing. He didn't try to take my hand, most likely because his parents were there,

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but it occurred to me he might be angry. After all, I had practically assaulted him less than
thirty minutes ago.
I followed Edward down the stairs and onto the front porch. He still wore his
pajama pants, but he'd thrown on a dark grey hoodie. I couldn't help but wonder if there was
anything between it and his bare chest.
"So…" he hedged, turning to face me.
"So…" I said, dragging out the o. An awkward silence immediately followed and I
began to feel the weight of our new, strange distance. I scrambled for a topic of
conversation, for something to bridge the gap. "Are you all better?"
"All better? I haven't been sick."
"Yeah, I meant, um, recovered… if it's recovered… from earlier tonight." I cringed.
Could I be any more spastic?
Edward stared at me intensely for several prolonged seconds, before saying, "Yes, it's
fine. Thank you for inquiring."
Oh, how I wanted to die.
"Bella, I need to apologize. I'm not entirely sure what was real and what was a dream,
but I do have a good inkling. Even if I was asleep, I can't believe I acted so… so crudely. So
rashly. When I think about what almost happened–"
"Wait a minute. You're apologizing to me?" I said before he could take any more
blame on himself. "I'm the one who snuck into your bedroom–"
"To give me a note, not to have me practically attack you in my sleep."
I blushed. "That's not exactly what happened. I was touching you first."
Edward's mouth dropped. "No way. I'm positive I would remember if you'd…" he
couldn't quite bring himself to say it.
"I didn't get that far. I was touching your chest and your face," I focused on his neck,
unable to meet his eyes. My cheeks had never felt warmer.
There was another long silence. Too long. And when Edward spoke again, there was
a catch in his voice. "Still, that's no excuse for what almost happened. What I did was wrong.
The last thing you need is pressure like that from someone you trust."
The way the hoodie tugged at the crook of his neck was doing things to my sanity. "I
wanted it to happen," I admitted, dropping my gaze to the welcome mat at my feet.
Unexpectedly, he let out a laughed. "Look at us. What a pair we are, huh? We've
been together for two and a half years and we can hardly talk about sex without dying of
embarrassment." He brought a hand under my chin and tilted my face until my eyes
connected with his. "I think that in itself indicates we probably aren't ready."
With a miniscule smile, I said, "So, you're saying that when we're able to have a full
conversation about it without being embarrassed, we can start having sex?"
He chuckled appreciatively. "I'm not sure that's quite how it works. But, hey, at least
we'll be able to talk about it."
I stepped into his arms, happy for the warmth and comfort they provided. "I'm
going to miss you so much this summer," I said into his hoodie.
"I'm going to miss you, too." He gently stroked my hair. "But I promise you, it's
going to be all right." As he said the words, I knew he meant them. It wasn't like I'd
imagined earlier. He wasn't reassuring himself. I was the only one here who needed
assurance. Sadly, I realized that his indifference from this afternoon was just that…
indifference. I shrugged off the melancholy this brought me and made an effort to focus on
the present moment. The one where I was wrapped in Edward's arms and he was kissing

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me. It was slow, and languid, and not at all satisfying enough, but definitely a step up from
last night.
The flash of the Police Cruiser's lights pulled us back to reality. Charlie, or I should
say, Chief Swan, got out of the drivers' seat and leaned against the side of the vehicle in an
ominous fashion.
Edward squirmed. "I do not envy you right now. Best of luck making it 'til morning."
I punched his arm. "Thanks a lot for the show of support." I took a step towards my
father.
"Hey, wait a minute, Marshmallow Muffin," Edward said, giving my hand a tug.
"If you think I'm going to respond to that name, you're deluded."
"What, you don't like it?"
"It's worse than Cuddlecake. You're getting shoddier at this nicknaming stuff by the
day, Cullen."
"Cullen? I thought it was Swirl."
"It is. When I like you."
"Fair enough," he said, with a shrug for effect. "But back to the topic at hand, don't
you have something for me?" At my confused look, he prompted, "Like a note? Wasn't that
the whole reason for your late night excursion?"
"Oh, right." I slapped my forehead, then reached into my pant pocket to dig out the
paper. "Promise you won't read it until I'm gone. It has a bunch of embarrassing mushy stuff
in it." I tried to say it offhandedly, but I think he knew how important the words in that
letter were to me.
"Okay. And I have something for you." He stripped his hoodie off. Turns out he did
have a shirt on underneath. Damn. "Here you go," he said, holding the sweatshirt out to me.
I took it tentatively. "You're giving me your hoodie?"
"It'll look better on you than it does on me. And I like the idea of you having a piece
of me on your trip to Florida. To keep you safe and warm."
Smiling, I tugged the hoodie over my head. "It's the middle of summer in Florida. I
highly doubt I'll need this to keep me warm," I said, though I knew I'd wear it every single
day we weren't together.
"If nothing else, it will give you extra padding when Coach tries to throttle you," he
said, flipping down the hood and brushing my hair back one last time. "And I was right. You
look gorgeous."
I bit my lip to keep the ridiculous grin I felt coming in check. "Speaking of Charlie, I
should probably go." I looked back at my father. "I love you, Swirl."
"I love you, girl-who-doesn't-have-a-nickname-yet," he whispered, giving my
forehead one last kiss.
Surprisingly, I felt like I was walking on Cloud Nine as I made my way over to my
father. That was, until I saw the look on his face up close. I was in so much trouble.
"Keys," Charlie said simply, holding out his hand. I didn't bother to argue or explain
or reason with him, just dejectedly dropped the keys into his palm and continued to the
other side of the car. "Where do you think you're going?"
"Uh, my seat?"
"I don't think so. You drove without a driver's license and broke into a house
tonight. That makes you a criminal."
"What? Am I supposed to walk home?"
He smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. "Criminals sit in the back of the cruiser."

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 My eyes widened. "You have got to be joking!"
"Do I look like I'm joking? You're lucky I don't handcuff and search you." And by
the menacing way he was grinning, I knew I was quite lucky indeed. The backseat suddenly
looked comfortable, especially with the partition separated me from the livid madman that
currently inhabited my father's body. I settled in without further argument.
As Charlie jerked the cruiser away from the Cullen's house, I turned to catch one last
glimpse of Edward on the porch. He waved a hand, mouthed something I couldn't
understand, then bowed extravagantly in farewell.
The corners of my mouth twitched. It wasn't Pearl Harbor or Titanic. It was the
goodbye scene of Swirl and Marshmallow Muffin, and it was perfect (except for the name).
I settled into the back of the cruiser, shrinking into the warmth of Edward's hoodie.
It smelled like him. Like the sun. My hands found their way to the large pocket on the front,
and I was surprised to find Edward had forgotten something in there. I pulled out a folded
sheet of paper with Bella written on the top flap. By the dim light of the streetlamps, I
unfolded the note and read the perfectly scripted words:

Look after my heart – I've left it with you.

Oh, yeah. This was totally movie material.

Boarding the airplane that afternoon was excruciating. It was as if I could already feel
the distance between Edward and me. My body ached with his absence. My skin yearned for
his touch.
I buried my head deep into his balled-up hoodie, which was acting as a pillow against
the plane window, and cried. My breathing remained steady and my body still, pretending to
sleep, but the tears continued to fall, catching in the folds of the increasingly damp fabric.
Fabric that still held his scent.
Eventually, with his fragrance lingering in my nostrils and his note clutched in my
hand, I fell asleep into a world of fabric and sheets and skin and his bed.
"…approximately fifteen minutes until we reach our destination." My eyes opened. The
window next to my face was now dark and the overhead lights had been switched on. "Please
secure your seat belts and put your seat in the upright position. Thank you for choosing American Airlines."
Around me, the passengers prepared for landing. I sat up slowly, wiped a tiny trickle
of drool from the corner of my mouth, and prayed that I hadn't made any embarrassing
noises during my nap.
Grateful to have a few minutes left before landing, I did my best to compose myself.
I hadn't seen my mother in over a year, and she deserved me at my best. Maybe for my
mother I could scrape together enough poise to resemble a well-adjusted teenage girl who
was not desperately missing her boyfriend three hours into her vacation. Or maybe not, I
thought as another sob tugged at the back of my throat.
"I hate this part, too," the older woman sitting next to me said. She was gripping the
armrest between us tightly.
"Uh, excuse me. Were you talking to me?"
She nodded. "Landing. I hate it, too. But don't worry, dear. It's going to be all right. I
promise." Apparently everyone was full of promises today.

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 By the time we'd safely reached the airplane terminal, I'd made up my mind that if a
complete stranger could pledge her assurance and come out on top of things, I should trust
Edward when he said it would be all right. He'd lied to me before, but never about a
promise.
The passengers around me stood up when the Captain signaled it was time to depart
the plane, but I waited, not interested in standing in the long line of people and hoping the
few extra minutes would rid me of any last traces of heartache. When the airplane was
almost cleared, I tugged Edward's hoodie on, grabbed my carry-on bag from the overhead
compartment, and walked out into the muggy Florida air. I wasn't familiar with this airport,
so I mindlessly followed the other passengers to baggage claim, which was the designated
spot to meet Renee and Phil.
I spotted them through the swarm of bodies before they found me, and stopped for
a moment to take in the scene of my unassuming mother with her younger husband. Renee
was standing on her tiptoes, searching for me over the heads of the crowds. I smiled for the
first time that day. She was looking in the entirely wrong direction.
It was then that I noticed that both Renee and Phil were holding something – signs.
Signs that read Welcome to Florida, Bella.
But it wasn't what the signs said that knocked the breath from me. It was the perfect
calligraphy. It was the meticulous illustrations that surrounded it. It was the flawless artistry
that meant only one person could have drafted them.
Renee caught sight of me during my moment of shock, flung her arms wide open,
and screeched my name. But my eyes weren't for her anymore. They were searching for
someone else. A gaggle of teenage girls shifted to the left and there he was, goofy grin
plastered to his face and a daring cocked eyebrow perched on his forehead. He held a sign,
too. Surprise, it read.
Without thinking, I flew past my mother's open embrace and straight into the arms
of none other than Edward Anthony Cullen. So tight was his embrace, that he lifted me off
the ground.
"You didn't really think I'd be able to stay away for a whole month," he was
whispering in my ear. "Never, ever, my beautiful, brave, crazy girl. I love you so much. I
could never leave you."
I thought I'd cried myself out on the airplane, but now there was a different, fresh
stream of tears pouring down my cheeks. Happy tears, with a hint of rage. I wanted to both
cling to him and beat him at the same time. I settled for tugging at the ends of his hair.
"How could you do that to me? You knew there was no reason for us to say goodbye."
"I wanted to tell you so badly, especially after your stunt last night. But your mother
would have killed me. She's been planning this since before she asked you to come."
Right. My mother was here with Phil. Still, I couldn't quite bring myself to care
enough to disentangle myself from Edward. Especially if she was the brains of this
operation. "So, there never was any baseball camp?"
"Nope. At least not for me."
"You're so mean. No surprises, ever again. I hate them. Understand?"
He laughed breathily. "I'm not making any promises."

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 Chapter 25: The First Time He Staged an Intervention

Freedom. That's what I felt as I stuck my head out the window of Edward's Volvo
and let out a gleeful scream. We'd had our first "real" date without parental supervision and
it was as if a whole new world had opened up to us. Port Angeles? That was the city of
endless possibilities and this car was our portal.
After celebrating Edward's sixteenth birthday in Florida, we came back to this huge
bundle of independence waiting in his driveway, the exact make and model he had asked his
parents for. I'd wondered initially what kind of teenage boy – who could have any car he
wanted – asked for a Volvo, but the more I rode in this car, the more I understood. A Volvo
was the perfect blend of chocolate and vanilla. Just like my Swirl.
My head swiveled back into the car, and Edward smiled goofily in the dim light.
"This is so much freaking fun! Why do they make us wait until sixteen to have a driver's
license?" I asked.
"Brain and auto safety experts agree that sixteen is when the mind developmentally
matures enough to handle the responsibility of driving on one's own. Even then there is still
some debate."
Because my adoration swelled with his Edward-typical answer, I leaned over and
planted a kiss on his cheek. He paused only momentarily before saying, "The
aforementioned debate is about whether sixteen-year-olds can handle the pressures of
driving." He reached over and grabbed my hand. "Or whether they can keep their hormones
in check long enough to not crash the vehicle."
"And are you feeling particularly hormone-ius tonight?"
The tip of Edward's tongue flicked out to wet his lips and a small chill went down
my right ankle. It was a weird place for a chill, but whatever. "I'm ninety-seven percent
positive 'hormone-ius' isn't a word. Unless you mean harmonious, defined as peaceful and
mellow. At which point, yes, because I'm with you."
He knew that wasn't what I meant, but did I dare go there? "Are you feeling horny?"
Yes, I certainly did.
"Bella!"
"Sorry." I giggled. "I feel so alive tonight! So freaking buzzed on life and liberty!" It
was an aliveness that hadn't quite left me since the night I snuck into his bedroom window.
The rebellion was still there, too.
"I can see that. I like it," he said and squeezed my hand.
"Okay, truth or dare?"
"Truth, only because I'm driving. I can be quite the daring renegade when I'm not
behind the wheel of a car."
"Prove it now. Truth: Are you horny?"
The proper gentleman in him warred with the daring renegade. I almost applauded
when the latter won. "Fine. Yes, by and large I am always horny. I'm a teenage boy after all,
and I have you as a girlfriend. It's an almost lethal combination."
I settled back in my seat with the smuggest grin on my face. I made my boyfriend
horny. How awesome was that?
"My turn. Truth or dare?"
There wasn't the slightest hesitation. "Dare." I was a rebel after all.

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 "I was hoping you'd say that. I'll save it for the next stop on our agenda."
"We aren't going home, yet?"
"The night is young, m'dear," he said in a faux British accent. I practically vibrated
with excitement. So far on our date, we'd eaten dinner at a fancy restaurant and watched the
sunset off the pier in Port Angeles. We were now winding the streets back to Forks, the purr
of the car's engine energizing us like a live wire.
When Esme and Carlisle had presented the freshly licensed Edward with his Volvo
yesterday, he hadn't waited two minutes before naming it Bellewyn Riel, after his RPG
character's girlfriend. Aside from its preposterous term of endearment, I could tell Edward
adored this car. He couldn't have gotten a better birthday present.
My own sweet sixteen was around the corner, but Charlie had made it clear that I
couldn't get my license until December 13th, a full three months after, as punishment for my
little nighttime excursion to Edward's bedroom in June. Renee had fought him tooth and
nail to retract what she considered an unjust punishment for simply "following my heart and
intuition." She'd gone as far as trying to manipulate the state of Florida into giving me a
license a few months early, but the law was the law, and I probably deserved the punishment
anyway.
I loved and missed my mom so much, even if she was kind of clueless when it came
to the authoritative part of being a mother.
"I'm sorry you and Edward have to sleep in separate rooms," she had said as I'd
gotten settled in her upstairs guest bedroom. "It was one of Mrs. Cullen's stipulations to
Edward coming to stay for a month."
"Oh, you talked to Esme?" I'd asked. "Isn't she great?"
"She seems like a nice, friendly lady." She had lowered her voice conspiratorially.
"Though, a little uptight."
I hadn't had the heart to tell Renee that her definition of "uptight" was most people's
definition of "good parenting."
"What are you thinking about?" asked Edward.
"My mom. Florida. I can't believe we've already been back a week."
"I can't believe school starts on Monday."
"Wait, was that a groan?" I grinned. "Last time I checked, you love school."
"After the summer we just had, I never want to go back to that place again. I want to
live on the beach and drink strawberry-mango virgin daiquiris twice a day as we soak up the
sun."
I couldn't have agreed more. The state of Florida was wonderful, but the true beauty
of a trip to the Sunshine State with Edward was getting to see him in a swimsuit almost
everyday.
"I've got to give you credit. You done good," Renee had said as we sat on the beach
under the shade of a massive umbrella and watched Phil toss Edward a baseball. "Edward is
definitely a looker and he's such a sweet, respectful boy."
Yep. He certainly was fine. And geez, that chest… those muscles… his legs… "I
can't believe I got so lucky."
"You're not the only one. The way Edward looks at you, it's like something out of a
romance novel."
My first instinct had been to deflect her remark, but Renee had a way of seeing
things no one else could. She was an author after all. "You think so?"

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 "Yeah, girl! The boy can't keep his eyes off you. He looks over here every ten
seconds. See?" Sure enough, his eyes had darted in our direction. I'd flustered under his gaze
and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "He is so far gone in love with you."
"But not more than I love him. There seems to be a few dissenting opinions on that
matter."
"From who?"
"You mean besides Edward? There's his best friend Jasper who gave me the third
degree a few months ago. Apparently my monumental love and affection is not obvious to
the rest of the world."
"Well, I know that you love Edward every bit as much as he loves you," she had said,
and looked off into the ocean knowingly. "But a woman's love is like water. Water is
constant and there's so much of it that people easily take it for granted. When a man loves a
woman the way Edward loves you, it is as powerful and blinding as the sun, and there's only
one of those."
I had considered what she'd said before bursting into a fit of giggles. "Mom, that is a
horrible analogy. Please tell me you didn't write that in one of your books!"
She'd playfully jabbed me with her elbow. "Shut up! It wasn't that bad!"
"What's so funny?" Phil had said, plopping on the sand in front of my mom's legs
and grabbing a beer from the cooler. Edward had gone a ways down the beach, inspecting
seashells.
"Bella was telling me what a horrible writer I am," Renee had said, tugging at the bill
of his backwards baseball cap.
"And don't I know it," he'd grumbled.
"He's bitter because I force him to listen to my new scenes every night before we go
to bed."
"It's torturous." He'd made a face in my direction. "Well, except for the sex scenes–"
Renee had clamped a hand over his mouth, but the damage was already done. I'd gagged on
my tongue. That was one insight I did not need into my mom's life.
Silence had ensued after Phil's mishap, made bizarre by the fact that Renee had never
been one to shut up on anything sex related. Thank God Edward had approached moments
later, saying "Hey, Bella, I could use another layer of sunscreen. Do you mind getting my
back?"
Nope. I hadn't minded one iota.
"Can you cover your eyes?" Edward asked, turning left onto an unfamiliar street.
"Why?"
"I don't want you to see where we're going. It's a surprise."
"You still aren't forgiven for the last surprise you sprung on me. You really want to
exacerbate the situation?"
He pursed his lips, considering. "Okay, how about a deal? I don't make you cover
your eyes and you forgive me for Florida?"
"How does that in any way benefit me? That's letting you off way too easily. Not to
mention, you can't make me close my eyes."
"But I can make you walk home."
"You could, but you won't."
"Try me."
"I'd kill you."
"You could, but you won't," he said.

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 Two could play that game. "Charlie would kill you."
"You're underestimating my relationship with Coach. He'd find it amusing."
Damn. He was right. "Is this deal open for negotiation?" I asked.
"What terms do you propose?"
"I don't have to cover my eyes tonight and I get a request of my choice, redeemable
at any point in the future."
He hesitated. "Knowing you, that's a dangerous deal."
"Whatever do you mean?" I asked, and Edward let out a raucous chuckle.
"How about this; I'll grant you one request, barring any and all acts of prostitution."
"Are you insinuating that I want your body, Mr. Cullen?"
He was sporadically bobbing up and down with the groove of the road and a
satisfied grin played on his mouth. "Don't think I didn't notice how you stared at me in
Florida. You wanted me."
That accusation was not unfounded. "Fine, it's a deal. One favor, excluding acts of a
sexual nature. Now I need a guarantee that you're going to keep up your end of the bargain."
"My word isn't enough?"
I shook my head. "Swear on the Ring."
His eyebrows crinkled. "What ring?"
"What ring?" I repeated in mock indignation. "THE Ring. The One Ring. Are you a
Lord of the Rings fan or not?"
"Oh, that Ring. And here I was worried you were referring to the ring I have in my
pocket."
It's amazing how still your body can get when your heart starts pumping a million
miles an hour. He had a ring in his pocket? What did that mean? Renee had adored Edward
since the instant they met, but that hadn't stopped her from sharing one piece of advice:
"The two of you are perfection together, but you're too young to get engaged." She'd
repeated that at least three times a day. She'd told us when we were together, and cornered
us when we were apart.
I'd tried my hardest to explain that we were years off from that kind of commitment,
but she hadn't believed me. "I'm telling you, sweetie, he has that look in his eye and you are
too young." Could she have been correct? Could Edward be proposing tonight? What would I
say if he did?
"We're here."
"What ring?" I asked.
He brought the car to a complete stop on the side of the road and pulled his keys
from the ignition. "You'll find out in about a minute." He hopped out of the car and ran
around to my side.
"I thought I was clear about no more surprises," I said as soon as the door opened.
"You need to allow me some spontaneity in our relationship. What fun would it be if
I told you everything beforehand?" He offered his hand, but I stubbornly refused to exit the
vehicle.
"You're right. Our lives wouldn't be fun; they'd be boring. I happen to like boring."
And I happened to not like long, unnecessary goodbye scenes and possible proposals before
the age of sixteen.
"Well, I need vanilla and chocolate. Humor me, please?"
I was self-aware enough to know that part of the reason I wasn't getting out of the
car was because I was scared about what would happen if I did. Would he get down on one

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knee? Would I say yes? Don't be a coward, I told myself and took his hand. "Isn't this La
Push?" Last time I'd been here I was heartbroken, leg-broken, and heavily medicated.
"Don't think of it as La Push. Think of it as the ocean. We like the ocean,
remember?" He pulled a lantern and a duffel bag from the back seat, then tugged me in the
direction of the water. "Bear with me. I know it's not the same as our beach in Florida."
"Our beach" referred to a hidden cove Edward had discovered, the perfect refuge
for nights warm enough to enjoy the midnight sea air and each other's company. Edward
and I had spent most of our Florida nights sneaking out (and I used the term "sneaking"
loosely since I was positive Renee knew we were gone) to that spot. We'd lie under the stars,
wrapped in a blanket and each other, and talk about everything and anything.
"Truth or dare?" he'd asked me one perfect evening.
Being quite contentedly situated next to a nearly naked Edward (which was to say he
was wearing trunks and a t-shirt), there had been no way I was budging. "Truth."
He'd been quiet for a long time, mulling over what question he was going to ask. "If
I died, do you think you'd fall in love again?"
I had rolled to my stomach and leaned on my elbows, needing his eyes not the stars.
"Before I answer, what exactly made you ask that?"
"I was thinking about the movie we saw today," ah, The Notebook, "and how unlikely
it is that we'll die at the same time. I was wondering what happens after for you."
"To clarify, we're only talking about the one Nicholas Sparks adaptation, right?" I'd
asked. "You're not pulling a Walk to Remember on me and dying young, right?"
Edward had smiled and reached over to twist a strand of my hair with his finger. "As
far as I know, I'm healthy as a horse and planning on sticking around a good while longer."
"Okay, then. As long as we're clear on that." I'd straightened up. "Truth-wise, I'd say
that I can't ever imagine loving anyone else if you were dead. And I'm not saying that
because you're here now, alive and breathing. If you die, then the best part of me dies. I
wouldn't be capable of love, at least not the romantic kind, with the ruined bits that were left
of me. On top of that, the mere thought of touching and kissing another guy makes me want
to vomit."
Edward's expression had been hard to read by moonlight. Mostly he'd seemed
passive to my reply, but there had been a hint of disgust in his features. Had that not been
what he'd wanted to hear? "Why? Would you want me to find someone else?"
He'd massaged his temple somberly. "There's a large part of me that feels the right
answer is that I should want you to find happiness after I'm gone, even if it's with another
person. But if I'm being candid with myself, the idea of you kissing and touching another
man makes me want to throw-up, too."
I had laughed and returned to my previous comfy position. "Ditto. If I die first, I
don't want–"
"Hush. That isn't an option."
"But–"
"No. Either we die together at a very old age, or I die first. That's the way it will be."
I'd considered pushing the issue, but the hitch in his voice had warned me we were in
sensitive territory. If he wanted to believe there wasn't another option, I'd let him live in that
fantasy world. I wouldn't argue. I wouldn't tell him my own desire to die first. That would be
my gift to him until the day of reckoning came.
The beach at La Push was certainly different than ours back in Florida. The air was
bitterly cold, and clouds filtered the moon's light and blocked the glow of stars. Edward

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pulled a blanket out of the duffel bag and tucked it around me. "Don't worry. We won't be
here long. I wanted to be on a beach when I gave you this, though."
My curiosity peaked when Edward put the glowing lantern down beside us and
reached into his pocket. The lantern illuminated a small, black, velvet case that could only
contain one thing. "Oh, you do have a ring." A terrorizing dread and a startling anticipation
warred through every inch of my body.
"Yes, tonight I'm giving you a ring." With only those words, he opened the box. The
ring within was gorgeous and simple and so… so me. A wreath of tiny silver flowers –
daisies, I recognized – circled the band. Each flower was perfect, yet unique in its own way,
with silver petals and a dab of gold at their centers. Kill me now. If he dropped the question
with this ring, I couldn't say no. Renee would have both our heads.
"This isn't an engagement ring," he said. I let out a swoosh of air. "It also isn't a
promise ring."
"It isn't?" That would have been my second guess.
"Nope. Promise rings have been done, and what you and I have is completely our
own."
"That I can agree with." I smiled. "So why don't you stop telling me what this ring
isn't, and tell me what it is?"
"Mostly, it's a ring that made me think of you when I saw it. That, of course, made
me think of us and the rings we might wear in the future." My eyes drifted to his left hand,
and I imagined what it would look like with a wedding band. "One day I'm going to ask you
to marry me. You know that, right?"
"Yes, I know." Where else could our future be headed? "Is that what this is about –
you promising to propose one day?" In other words, a promise ring.
"No, this isn't a promise from me. It's a dare." I only caught Edward's meaning when
he bent down on one knee. He grasped my hand and butterflies erupted in my stomach.
Three years and counting, and he still managed to turn my insides out.
"Bella Swan, I dare you to endeavor to love me as much as I love you, even though I
know it's impossible." I scoffed, but a tear fell anyway. "I dare you to be my first when the
time comes, and my only for the rest of my life. And I dare you to let me be the same to
you."
My whispered voice trembled. "You will be."
"I dare you to one day agree to marry me, and I dare you to actually go through with
it." My laugh sounded more like a hiccup. I was outright crying now. "I dare you to live the
rest of my life with me, and love me even when I'm gone." He stood now and clutched my
wetted cheeks in his hands. "Most important, I dare you to wear this ring every single day so
you remember how much I love you."
I tried a joke, hoping it would stem the flow of tears. "But what if I get Alzheimer's
like the lady in The Notebook and forget?"
"Fair question. I'll up the stakes to a triple-dog-dare. I know you can't resist one of
those." His eyes lighted with amusement and hope. "So, do you accept?"
I opened my mouth, but he interrupted. "Before you respond, just know that if
you're answer is no I will be utterly heartbroken. Not only because of the rejection, but
because I've been working on that speech for three weeks."
"Is that how you always manage to sound so eloquent?" I asked. "You practice
beforehand? That hardly seems fair."
"Fair or not, I need an answer."

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 "I mean, that's like Harry Potter knowing about the Tri-Wizard dragons, but not
telling Cedric Diggory."
"An answer, Bella. Please."
"How is Cedric Diggory supposed to come up with nearly as eloquent a speech
about how she feels, without time to prepare?"
"Really, a simple yes or no will suffice."
I wanted to deliver an earth-shattering reply, but inspiration was not striking. I
settled for sarcasm. "I suppose. It's not like I have anything better to do with the rest of my
life."
A breathtaking smile overtook every one of his facial features and his hands slid
from my cheeks to my hands. He raised my left and kissed the ring finger. "We're saving you
for a diamond," he told the finger, letting the entire hand fall to my side. "It's you I want."
He found my right ring finger and carefully maneuvered the daisy band onto it. This was a
moment, a feeling, I would never forget.
It was probably silly for us to stay out on the freezing beach for so long, studying the
ring and its effect on my hand by the glow of the lantern, but I would have faced a thousand
Orcs to hold onto this one last piece of our perfect summer.

With the start of school came the challenge of new classes and mounds of
homework. Eleventh grade was the year of SAT and ACT standardized testing, and our
teachers were pushing us harder than ever. According to them, our entire futures rested on
these tests.
As if that wasn't pressure enough, I had Edward to keep up with. There was no
question of us going to different colleges; we wouldn't survive a semester without seeing
each other. Edward would never say so, but I was the weak link between the two of us. I
couldn't let him forgo an Ivy League college because I was too stupid to get in, which meant
extra studying for me.
"We're not even through our first week back, and you're already studying through
lunches?" said Jasper, placing a tray of food next to my open Physics book. No one else had
arrived at our table, yet.
I closed the book and set it aside. "It's going to be a tough year."
"I remember," he said, a Senior now.
"Plus, we're programming new software for MyT-Spot.com. That's going to take up
a lot of my time."
"Edward mentioned you were doing that. I meant to talk to you about this last year,
but no hard feelings over you not wanting me on the T-Spot team." To say I didn't want
Jasper on the MyT-Spot team was an understatement. Edward had presented that idea just
hours after Jasper told me in no uncertain terms that he didn't think I was good enough for
his best friend.
I had what my mother called a thermal relationship with Jasper. He could be the
cool, fun-loving person I adored (warm and fuzzy). Or he could be the arrogant, know-it-all
I abhorred (raging inferno). Since we'd gotten back from Florida, he'd been sitting at a solid
lukewarm.
"Yeah," I said, somewhat uncomfortably. "Thanks for understanding. Our website is
a very personal project between the two of us."

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 "I get it," Jasper said, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. "Sometimes girls are a little
needy." (See? Raging inferno).
Lucky for him, Ben and Angela arrived with their trays of food, soon followed by
Cynthia, then Edward. "What do you think you're doing?" Edward asked Jasper. "That's my
chair."
"I don't think so, mellon," Jasper said. "I was here first."
"But it is next to my meleth, so I have rights to it."
"The Elvish language is not nearly as nice-sounding when you speak it in fragments,"
I noted, wishing Jasper would give up and scoot over.
"Aa' lasser en lle coia orn n' omenta gurtha, m'lady," he said, before doing just that.
I looked up at Edward as he sat down in the now vacant seat. "Translate, please."
"Roughly, he said, 'May the leaves of your life tree never turn brown.'" (Aw. Warm
and fuzzy).
"Thank you, Jasper," I said.
"Yes, yes, Jasper's Elvish is wonderful," Edward said, "though rusty on the accent."
Jasper crumpled a napkin and threw it at Edward's head.
The two best friends hadn't gotten to talk much over the summer, since Jasper was
busy with baseball camp. Edward never once complained though, always insisting he was
happier spending his summer with me. Now that they were back together, I could tell how
much he had missed his friend.
For that reason, I happily sometimes-loathed Jasper in private. Besides, I had my
Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend to keep my irritation distracted. The thought of
Alice and Jasper together warmed my heart, mostly because it meant he'd have someone
other than my boyfriend to occupy his time. Thinking of which, Stage Three: Re-
Introduction to Society was about to commence. From across the cafeteria, I saw Alice
empty the remaining contents of her lunch into a trash bin and start walking to our table.
All my planning and scheming had been leading up to this one interaction, the
moment I introduced Alice to my friends as someone other than my mortal enemy. For
months I'd been preparing her for this. We'd kept in contact via email, rehearsing our first
move.
There were only two rules she needed to abide by for this to work: Do not talk to
Jasper. Do not look at Jasper.
Ben was the first to notice Alice hovering next to our table. He nudged Angela, who
gave me a knowing look. Conversation faded into bristling silence as one-by-one the entire
table became aware of her presence.
"What are you doing here?" Cynthia asked in a snotty tone I once believed sisters
only used on television.
Like we'd practiced, Alice fixed her gaze on me. "I'm here to talk to Bella."
Edward went rigid and put a protective hand on my forearm. Past encounters with
Alice being what they were, he perceived her as popular and shallow. He detested her for
that and for her previous misbehavior towards me. If only he could have seen the Alice that
picked up my dead mouse.
"Hello, Alice. How are you this afternoon?" I recited.
"I am well, Bella. I came over to see if you enjoyed the reading from last night."
"Yes, Alice. Our Physics book quite aptly described centripetal force." I figured I
might as well make us sound smart if we were scripting this stuff anyway.
"Aren't the effects of circular motion and gravitation fascinating, Bella?" she asked.

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 Jasper made a noise between a scoff and a chuckle. That was all it took to break
Alice's focus. She was looking. She was looking. She was looking!
I panicked. "Alice!" Her head whipped back to me. "I…" forgot the next line, "didn't
show you the ring Edward gave me." Making this up on the spot, I flashed her my right
hand.
"It's beautiful," she said with a shocking amount of sincerity. "You have great taste,
Edward."
Once again I saw the proper gentleman in him duke it out with the renegade. He
didn't want to thank this girl he despised, but his manners wouldn't allow him to do
otherwise. Out came a half-hearted, "Thanks," in response.
"Um, great," Alice said, unsure of herself now. "I guess I'll see you in class then,
Bella. Bye."
"Bye, Alice," I said. In her wake, nobody talked for at least thirty seconds.
Jasper was the first to crack. "Was that like the Twilight Zone for anyone else? What
was that about?"
"Oh, that's Alice," I said, anticipating the questions.
"I know who she is, even if you hadn't said her name fifty times in the last minute.
Why were you talking to her?"
None ya bees-wax. "She's my lab-partner for Physics."
"How did that happen?" Edward asked.
Careful planning and manipulation. "Luck of the draw."
He put his arm around my shoulder and kissed my forehead. "Are you going to be
okay? If it makes you uncomfortable, we can talk to the teacher about getting you another
partner."
"It's fine," I said. "She's not that bad."
"Not that bad?" Jasper asked. "I have enough evidence to get a restraining order
against her."
"She thinks it's funny to flush her bathroom toilet when I'm in the shower," said
Cynthia.
Edward looked like he thought I should be committed. "She's practically bullied you
since the moment you walked into Forks Middle School. Need I remind you of the clown
make-up incident?"
I shot Angela a desperate look. She was in-the-know as far as my Diabolical Plot was
concerned (of which she heartily approved). "Come on, guys, stop harassing Bella. We have
more pressing things to discuss," said Angela, the bestest bestie of all BFFs. "Like, who's
coming to our first Book Club meeting next Friday?"
As if I didn't have enough on my plate, Angela and I had decided to start a school
Book Club. Three days of bribing and persuading the school librarian, and she'd finally
agreed to be our sponsor (as long as she didn't have to do anything) and let us use the
library.
"I'm afraid I can't make it," Ben said. "I have Taekwondo that afternoon."
"I can't come either," Cynthia said. "I have… stuff."
"Yeah, Jasper and I were planning on going down to the field with a few of the guys
to throw a baseball around. Get in shape early, ya know?" Edward said.
"What! You're not coming to be supporto-boyfriend?" I trilled.
"It's a Harry Potter Book Club," Edward said. "That would go against my Ringer
Code of Honor."

  218  
 "It is not a Harry Potter Book Club," I said, pounding my fist on the table for
emphasis. "We're discussing the Sorcerer's Stone as our first book because most people have
already read it. It's convenient!"
"Come on, Edward." Jasper prodded him on the shoulder. "We can do the baseball
thing another day. It's obviously important to Bella that you're there, and she did come to all
of our baseball practices and games." (Warm and fuzzy).
Edward held up his hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine. Have it your way." He gave me a
sideways smirk and a kiss on the cheek.

Over the next week Angela and I passed out hundreds of fliers to the student body.
If five people outside our circle of friends came to Book Club, we'd consider it a success. To
fit with the theme, Angela had found Harry Potter recipes online (licorice wands, cauldron
cakes, butterbeer), and I had ordered Harry Potter party supplies from the nearest Party City
(I was going to get to eat off Daniel Radcliffe's face!).
Friday was full of nerves and anticipation. I desperately wanted this to be a success,
so Angela and I could leave behind a stamp on Forks High when we graduated next year.
After the bell rang signaling the end of classes, I had exactly five minutes to run to my
locker, grab the supplies, and head up the library.
I pushed my way through the flood of students to find Alice waiting for me and
internally groaned, already knowing what she wanted. We had planned and rehearsed so she
could approach me daily at lunch and have our little one-minute conversation. The idea was
that, slowly but surely, my friends would get used to her presence, and eventually, she'd land
an invite to join us for lunch.
Problem was, Alice was never one for slow. "I need to talk to you," she said.
I concentrated on my locker combination. "Can't. I have to be at the Library in three
minutes."
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about."
"No, you can't come to Book Club," I said for the millionth time.
"Come on! Why not? I love the Sorcerer's Stone. I want to discuss!"
I opened the locker and reached for the bag of supplies. "You're not ready to be in
the same room as Jasper for more than a few seconds at a time. You can barely keep your
eyes off him during lunch. And you're still struggling with Stage Two."
"That's nonsense. Stage Two is practically second nature to me now."
Stage Two: Personality Replacement required her to practice everyday manners. It
was not an easy task for someone whose actual second nature was to insult anything that
moved. "By the way, I meant to tell you earlier how great your hair looked today," I said.
She glowed. "I know. Isn't it awesome?"
"See? You proved my point. In polite conversation, if someone gives you a
compliment, you say thank you."
"What? I can agree with people who compliment me."
"Agree with them inside your head. Acknowledging it out loud makes you sound…"
I searched for the word.
"Bitchy?"
"Exactly."
"I still don't see how Jasper's supposed to fall in love with me if I never get to talk to
him."

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 I shut my locker. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder."
She was sick of hearing that phrase, but it was the absolute truth. My diabolical plot
was, well, diabolic. And perfect. "You know, you're as conniving as I am. But you're nice, so
you can get away with it," she said. "That's one thing I appreciate about our relationship."
"We don't have a relationship. We have a business deal." I paused. "Why do I feel
like I just quoted Richard Gere in Pretty Woman?"
"You didn't. Not exactly, at least. Ironic that you bring up a movie where the male
hero's name is Edward. Maybe in another life your Edward was rich and you were his
prostitute."
"That would be a highly fictionalized version of my life." In that reality, Edward
wouldn't cling so hard to his virginity.
"Weirder things have been known to happen."
"Edward's coming."
"Precisely the thing his prostitute would hope for."
"No, he's on his way here." Over Alice's shoulder, I could see his puzzled expression
making its way through the after school crowd. "I'll have to talk to you later. You're coming
over tomorrow for rehearsal?"
"Yep. See you then." She threw a wave over her shoulder.
Edward stepped into her vacated spot moments later. "Were you talking to Alice?"
I crossed my fingers behind my back. "It was nothing. Physics stuff."
"You're remarkably devoted to your Physics grade this year." In response to his
observation, I grabbed his hand and tugged him in the direction of the library. He didn't
budge. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
"I love you?"
"Come on. We're better than that. Be honest, are you friends with her now?"
"Of course not." That was not a lie. A friendship with Alice was more preposterous
than the idea of Hooker Bella. "I used to despise her; now I merely tolerate her. That is
nowhere near friendship."
Edward didn't answer, but was clearly suspicious. As much as I really wanted to
continue this conversation (sarcasm), we were now officially running late. I reminded him of
this and gave his hand another tug. This time, he didn't fight it.
Angela was already setting up the snacks and drinks when we arrived at the library.
Edward got to work pulling tables together to make enough room for a proper discussion,
while I decorated the space with Harry Potter plates and party favors. Before I knew it, it was
time for students to arrive.
Only, they didn't. Five, ten, fifteen minutes of waiting, and the only person who
walked through the library doors was Jasper.
"Where are all the people at?" he asked.
Angela chuckled sadly and threw her limp Harry Potter party blower on the table.
"This is what we would call a flop." It was a disappointing blow, and I was embarrassed that
Jasper and Edward were there to witness our failure. We were about ready to throw in the
towel when the door creaked open again.
"Sorry I'm late. I forgot these at home." Emmett McCarty held up a pair of glasses.
"Knew I couldn't come to the Harry Potter Book Club without them." Angela and I nearly
teetered over in outrageous excitement as Emmett put on a pair of Harry Potter frames.
Enchanted, indeed.

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 Emmett made all the difference. The three of us, Angela, Emmett, and I, had a lively
and fun discussion of Sorcerer's Stone, all the while snacking on Angela's treats and poking fun
at Edward and Jasper for hating the series. It was a blast debating with the two naysayers.
By the end of our allotted time, we'd established Angela as president, me as vice
president, and Emmett as secretary. We enjoyed the discussion of Sorcerer's Stone so much
that we decided to continue with Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets as next month's read.
Jasper and Edward only minorly protested.

With the mountains of homework and my increasing responsibilities to MyT-Spot,

the month seemed to go by in a whirlwind.
Edward and I worked closely almost daily to fix the kinks in the new MyT-Spot
software, but it was all work and no play. He wanted to get the new website up and running
before baseball season, knowing he wouldn't be as available to help once it started. I missed
the closeness and intimacy we'd shared over the summer. Edward was feeling it too. He'd
taken to rubbing my daisy ring whenever he was particularly stressed, as if it was a good-luck
token.
Despite my hectic schedule, I managed to stay on top of my Diabolical Plot to Get
Jasper a Girlfriend. Alice and I kept up with our daily lunchtime conversations by writing
them in Physics and rehearsing them in the hallways, and if we needed more time to get
something right, she would come over to my house. She'd charmed Charlie into adoring her,
proving she could be a pleasant person when she wanted to be.
Every once in awhile, I'd catch Edward and Jasper throwing wary glances my way.
They'd long given up on asking me anything Alice-related, but their suspicions were
unquestionably growing. I'd overheard Jasper telling Edward they needed to moderate the
situation: "We should keep an eye on those two. Something's up." (Raging inferno).
I was excited for our second Book Club meeting to roll around. It'd be nice to let off
some steam. Getting to yell at Jasper with no repercussions was good for me (even if it was
only about Harry Potter). It was the five of us again, plus Cynthia. Like last time, we pushed
tables together and set out snacks.
Once we were all settled, Emmett got the ball rolling. He'd grown attached to his
secretarial position already, producing a Harry Potter Quidditch-themed notebook to scribble
notes in and a feather quill to do the scribbling. "First order of business," he said, "please
sign-in on this page."
We threw out some ideas for fundraising and new member acquisition as we passed
the notebook around and signed our names on a page marked Dumbledore's Army – 10/8/04.
"Is that everything?" I asked when the notebook made its way back to Emmett. He
looked it over and gave me the thumbs up. "Great. Let's get down to the fun part. Harry
Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. How do you feel it compared to the first?"
"Actually," Jasper said, "there's something else we'd like to talk about before we get
to the book discussion."
"For the record, I told them this was a bad idea," Angela said.
"What's a bad idea?" I asked, stupefied.
She turned to Edward, who was tapping his finger tensely on the table. "You tell her.
This was your brilliant plan."
"Tell me what?"

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 Edward indicated he needed a moment, then pulled a folder out of his backpack and
positioned it on the table so it was perfectly perpendicular to the edge. He took his time
opening it, as the rest of us waited in uneasy silence. Eventually he said, "We would like to
talk to you about Alice Brandon."
"What about Alice?" I asked, a watermelon sprouting in my stomach.
"It hasn't escaped our notice that you've been spending time with her." Edward put
on his reading glasses and examined his notes. "Aside from your daily chats at lunch, you've
been spotted numerous times talking to her in the hallways. Coach Swan also reports that
you've had a, quote, 'Short, chipper, spiky-haired spitfire' at your house on several occasions
over the last month." This would be one of those times I hated my father's relationship with
Edward. "While we love and support you, and respect your right to be friends with anyone
you choose, we thought it important to remind you of a few past incidents that might make
you… reconsider."
"Alice is the Regina George of Forks High. She's evil," Cynthia said, raising her
hand. "And I say that with total sisterly love and devotion."
"Please exclude me from the 'we' statements," Angela said. "I told them this was a
bad idea, for the record."
"Wait, is this supposed to be an intervention?" I asked. "Have you all been talking
behind my back?"
"I haven't," said Emmett. "I thought this was Book Club."
"This is not an intervention," Edward said. "But we've been keeping abreast of the
situation–"
"Um, Edward?" Cynthia raised her hand. "We're not all obsessed with Bella's
boobs."
"Abreast, Cynthia. A-breast. It's a term that has nothing to do with…" Edward
gestured between his pectorals, before looking down at his flat t-shirt and shaking away his
hand. "It has nothing to do with, uh, breasts. It means we've been keeping on top of her – it!
We're on top of the situation, not Bella."
Cynthia bowed her head in acknowledgement. "You learn something new everyday."
"Well, we are in a school," I said briskly.
"Back to business," Jasper said. "We're concerned for your mental well-being."
"I would like to state again, for the record, I did not think this was a good idea,"
Angela said. "And, for the record, I'm not worried about Bella's mental well-being."
Cynthia raised her hand. "You're probably the person who should be worried the
most. Best friends are always the first to get kicked to the curb when people make new
friends."
"Excuse me," I said. "I am not friends with Alice. We are lab-partners on a science
project."
"A school project. We've heard that excuse before, haven't we?" Jasper nudged
Edward. (RAGING inferno).
"Yes," I seethed. "And you were the result. I've learned my lesson."
Emmett let out a low whistle and jotted that down in his notebook.
Jasper appeared unaffected by the comment. "Look, I know the full scale of Alice
Brandon's crazy. She is obsessed with me. Like, Fatal Attraction obsessed. It's clear that she's
using you to get to me."
"Actually, she's not interested in you anymore," I said, spotting an opportunity to
reinforce Stage One: Fanatical Discontinuation. "She says you overplay your accent, your

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hair is too styled, and your pout makes you look constipated." A jolt of delight shot through
me when Jasper reached up to touch one of his precious curls.
"Okay. This is alright." Edward shuffled through his notes. "The Internet said you'd
be mad. Personal insults are to be expected. We still love and support you."
"For the record," Angela said, "I told them this was a bad idea."
"I have you on the record saying that four times," Emmett said. "I think you're in the
clear."
Edward pulled a small stack of note cards from his folder. "Bella, if Alice is
confiding her feelings for Jasper to you, you must be friendly on some level."
"We are not friends."
"This would be the denial stage of the intervention," Jasper said.
"I repeat, this is not an intervention," Edward said. "Now, I have compiled a list of
Alice-related episodes to remind you of her past offenses against you. If you're still interested
in a friendship with her–"
"We are not friends."
"–then we will respect your decision and still love and support you. Sound good?"
"If you weren't such a good-looking boy, I'd totally Avada Kedavra your ass. In case
you don't get that reference, you'd be as dead as Cedric Diggory."
Emmett clapped his hands over his ears. "Spoilers!"
"You've already read the book," I reminded him.
"I haven't," Cynthia said. Why was she even here?
"Death threats are also expected. I still love and support you," Edward said,
adjusting his glasses. "Let's get started. Eighth grade, September 13, 2001, our first dance.
The gym was filled with streamers and the general merriment of the hour. I was head
yearbook photographer; you were my assistant. That night, I held you in my embrace for the
first time. Then Alice Brandon interrupted…"
I sat idly as I listened to the long list of Alice's transgressions. The barbed remarks
and backhanded compliments at my expense, witnessed over the last three years, were all
there, as were numerous Cinderella skirmishes and times she'd spoken insensitively to
Edward.
When he was finished, Edward laid his note cards on the table and placed his reading
glasses on top. "I rest my case."
"Am I allowed to talk now?" I asked.
"Please do," Edward said.
"Let me be clear. Alice and I are not friends." Edward and Jasper opened their
mouths, but I held up a finger. "But if we were, why does it bother you so much?"
"Did you not listen to the list of things I read off?" Edward asked. "When she hurt
you, it hurt me. I will never forgive her for that."
"I will not eat Green Eggs and Ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am." All heads
turned to Emmett. "All I'm saying is never say never," he said.
"That was very insightful," said Angela.
"Thank you."
"Back on track people. Focus," Jasper said. "Now be honest, Bella. Is this about
popularity?"
"No," I said exasperated. "I want to discuss Chamber of Secrets, not Alice."
"Is this about being bored with your current friends?" Jasper asked.
"No, of course not," I said, looking to Angela to make sure she knew that.

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 "Don't look at me." She held her hands up in the air. "I told them this was a bad
idea."
"Is this about drugs?"
"NO!"
"Is this about…" Jasper drifted off, staring at me as if trying to read me like one of
the surrounding library books. Evidently he found the passage he was looking for, because
his eyes lighted and a triumphant finger rose in the air, pointed directly at me. "Oh, you're
good." He twirled his finger around knowingly. "You are good. This is about what happened
between us, isn't it?"
Edward's chair wobbled as he brusquely swiveled to his feet. "Nothing happened
between us!" I yelled, simultaneously trying to reassure Edward and get Jasper to shut up.
"Yes, it did! That day Edward stayed home sick last year!"
Edward was turning a violent shade of red. He turned on Jasper. "I swear to God, if
you laid a finger on her..."
"No, no, no, it wasn't like that, man. Believe me, I wouldn't touch Bella with a ten-
foot pole." I was insulted and relieved. The feeling is mutual, buddy. "Not because she's not
attractive," he backtracked at Edward's scathing glare. "But come on, you're my best friend."
"Then explain," Edward said through his teeth.
"In case you're interested," Emmett whispered, "that's exactly what Edward looked
like when he beat the shit out of Mike Newton." I believed it. I'd never seen this kind of livid
before.
Jasper leaned as far away from Edward as his seat would allow and let out a nervous
chuckle. "Look, this is all a giant misunderstanding." He addressed the whole table, visibly
trying to get someone on his side. "You were out sick for the day. Bella and I decided to get
to know each other better. It was completely platonic; we were only talking. She asked
questions, then I asked questions. I repeat, one hundred percent platonic."
Edward looked at me and I nodded. "I swear it," I said. He turned back to Jasper.
"Anyway, I ended up asking her some questions she didn't like. Clearly she is still
mad about it, and doing this whole Alice thing to get back at me." He sounded like an
arrogant, conceited asshole. He was also right.
Edward was a scary kind of composed. "And what exactly were these questions you
asked the girl whom I love with my entire being and plan on one day marrying?"
Jasper gulped and looked down at the table ledge. "There was some talk about food,
some philosophy about Final Destination, some discussion about future goals… and, okay,
possibly some stuff about how I wasn't sure she was good enough for you."
The silence was deep, even for a library.
"But," Jasper said brightly to break the tension, "I was testing her, see. And she rose
to the challenge. She really loves you, man." He went to give Edward a congratulatory clap
on the shoulder, but decided to study his nails instead.
Edward didn't move as he processed this information. Knowing him as well as I did,
I understood what he was feeling. Edward lived his life in a world of black and white, and he
would consider this betrayal a fatal blow to their friendship.
"Dude, that was not cool," Emmett said.
"Yeah, I have to agree," Angela said. "How could you say that to Bella? She loves
Edward so much."
I felt somewhat sympathetic to the desperate look on Jasper's face. "Isn't it the duty
of a best friend to check out the people his friend dates?" he asked.

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 "You're not a chick!" Emmett said.
"And you're not my best friend," Edward said tersely. "She is." He looked at me,
love and disappointment in his gaze. "I can't believe you didn't tell me." He walked out of
the library.
Why was I not surprised this had come back to bite me in the ass? "I'm just going to
take care of that," I said to the group, leaping up to follow Edward. Jasper stood to come
with me. I pointed at him. "Sit." He parked himself back in his chair like a good boy. "Stay."
Edward was already outside, heading for a tree that would shield us from the
afternoon drizzle. He sat cross-legged at the trunk of the tree. Forgoing the damp ground, I
rested myself in his lap. He welcomed me with open arms and my head lolled comfortably
against his chest.
We sat quietly for about a minute before I said, "Angela once checked you out."
"I thought she was interested in Ben."
I punched him on the arm. "Not like that, you dope. We were in eighth grade and I
was sitting right there at the table with the two of you. She started asking you all of these
questions and I had no idea what she was doing."
"I don't remember this," he said.
"You probably thought she was trying to get to know you better. Angela has
something Jasper doesn't." I waited. "You're supposed to ask me what it is. Play along."
A tiny smile traced his lips. "Fine. What does Angela have that Jasper doesn't?"
"Tact," I said. "Jasper is probably the least subtle person I've met. Angela, on the
other hand, has ninja stealth."
"Then how do you know she was checking me out?"
"Because when she finished, she gave me two thumbs up. She was excited for me.
Jasper may have said some rude, horrible things, but he did it because he cares. He wants to
make sure you're happy."
"I am happy," he said, reaching in front of me to grab my hand. "But what about
you? What about your feelings?"
"I can deal," I said.
"Can you? If I remember correctly, we had a nasty argument that afternoon. Why
didn't you tell me the reason?"
"It seems cliché to say, but I knew how you'd react. You wouldn't want to keep him
in your life if it risked me."
"I don't understand you," Edward said. "You had the perfect opportunity to get rid
of someone you can't stand, but you chose not to because… why exactly? For my sake?"
"Yes and no," I said. "Let's get something straight. I can not stand Jasper, but I love
Jasper."
Edward made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "Sounds like the plotline of
a particularly banal romance novel."
"Ew. No." I gagged at the mental image that conjured. "Jasper is like an older, highly
annoying brother. I used to worship him when I was younger, but now that I've grown up
and gotten to know him, he drives me crazy. But I do love him. And I love you and him as
best friends. You guys click, like crunchy peanut butter and jelly." I gave him time to mull
over that, before asking, "What are you feeling now?"
"I'm angry. I'm completely furious with Jasper. Not that you're not doing a good job
settling me down." He nuzzled his forehead against my cheek. "But I can never forgive him
for what he said to you."

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 "Green Eggs and Ham and all that," I said. "And it's okay that you feel mad. No one
could blame you for it, not even Jasper."
"I don't know what to do with all this anger."
"Yell at him if you want. Vent it out, just like we do. But please don't throw away
your perfect PB and J relationship because of your anger. Remember how miserable it made
us when we broke up?"
"If I ended my friendship with Jasper, it would be nothing in comparison to the pain
I felt that week." He twisted the daisy ring around my finger. "You are my Earth. Jasper is
Pluto, if he's lucky."
His words made my toes tingle. "I love you more than all the stars in the galaxy," I
said.
"No, you don't. You only want me for my brain."
"Not even your whole brain," I joked. "I could do without whatever part of it
decided to hold an intervention today."
"It was not an intervention."
"Yes. It was."
He was tentative to agree, but he did in the end. "Yeah, it was. But the Internet said
you'd react better if I was non-confrontational."
"Well, it worked."
"It did?" he asked.
"Nope."
He laughed, but the blissful noise and vibrations that ran through his body because
of it cut off shortly. Like a naughty puppy that couldn't sit still for too long, I spotted Jasper
walking toward us.
"I think I should leave you two to talk," I said.
"More likely to shout," Edward said curtly.
"Shout all you want, but keep in mind what I said. His heart was in the right place." I
kissed Edward, crawled off his lap, and headed back to the school. Meeting Jasper about
midway across the lawn, I said quietly, "He's still mad, but I don't think it will be lethal.
Whatever you do, agree with everything he says and act apologetic as hell."
"Um, thanks." Jasper rubbed the back of his neck, clearly discomfited. "Look, it was
months ago, but I'm sorry about what I said."
"It's fine," I said. "I get it. I want to protect him too. Good luck."
"You're a cool chick, Bella. The coolest actually." (Warm and fuzzy.)
"I know you said you wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole, but this would be the
appropriate time to give me a hug to show Edward we're cool."
He smiled good-naturedly and enveloped me in a big bear hug. I had high hopes we
could peacefully coexist in Edward's life from now on, and with any luck, without all the
weird temperature analogies.
Jasper turned to make his way over to the tree. From behind his back, I gave Edward
a grin and two thumbs up. I, his best friend, approved.

The next day at school, Edward acted civil to Jasper. Though there was still some
underlying tension between the two, the worst was over. Jasper looked different, relieved
that he had held onto his friendship with Edward. And there was something else.

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 Alice was at her locker, a few rows down from mine. I walked over to deliver the
fabulous news. "My diabolical plot is working."
"How can you tell?" she asked, stuffing a book into the upper shelf of her locker.
"Yesterday I told Jasper you didn't like his hair."
The book slipped from her grasp and unceremoniously clunked to the ground. "You
didn't! I love his hair!"
I turned Alice around so she could see. Jasper had gotten a haircut.

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 Chapter 26: The First Time Sex-Ed Was About Sex

Whoever thought 8:15 AM was an appropriate time for school to start needed to be
shot. Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I trudged down the stairs to find Charlie already awake,
waiting for me in the kitchen. That was standard. The platter of pancakes and eggs in the
center of the table and the single placemat, complete with plate and utensils, at my usual seat
was not.
"What's this?" I asked.
Charlie sat at the head of the table with his hands folded. "I thought we could have a
family breakfast. Take a seat."
I pulled out my chair and sat down, but didn't reach for the food. Even in my
groggy, sleep-deprived state I could tell he was up to something. "Where's your placemat?" I
asked. He held up a cup of coffee. Family breakfast, indeed.
"Have some pancakes," he said, pushing the plate forward.
I eyed the pancakes suspiciously. "Did you cook those?"
"Of course not. Ran to the diner before you woke up."
I speared two of the circular patties with my fork and inspected them for visible
signs of narcotics, before dousing them in syrup.
Charlie surveyed me, his eyes probing, intense, a common interrogation technique
meant to unnerve me. "Juice?" he asked.
My fork clattered to the plate. "This is a sex talk, isn't it?"
"Damn." He thumped an annoyed fist on the table. "I'm losing my touch. Time was,
you wouldn't have seen it coming."
A sex talk from Charlie wasn't wholly surprising, considering what today's class
agenda included. Normally it wouldn't be a big deal. I'd had at least one Health and Wellness
class a year since Middle School. But everyone knew that eleventh grade kicked Sex-Ed up a
notch. Eleventh grade was the year they started showing pictures.
That's right. Today I was finally going to "see one." Penis, I reminded myself. I am
going to see a penis today. If I was old enough to look at penises, I was old to say the word
aloud… in my head.
"It was the juice," I said. "You bought apple instead of orange. Dead giveaway."
"Well, this is long overdue. I should have sat you down the moment you got back
from Renee's."
"No need. I'm still a virgin."
The way he knowingly grinned aggravated me. "That's my girl," he said.
A sudden desire to rebel gushed through me. I neither wanted, nor deserved, the
credit for my virginity. "You may want to check your daddy-pride. Edward's the hold out."
Charlie's grin grew wider. "That's my boy."
"It's you!" I pointed an accusatory finger. "You're the reason Edward won't..." I
stopped short of throwing the f-word out in anger, "…do things." I knew there was more to
the story than what Edward was letting on. No way did a teenage boy, madly in love and
horny as hell, hold out this long because of morals.
I'd broached the topic with him on several occasions in Florida, only for him to
deflect it again and again. One particular night, we were wrapped around each other on our
secret cocoon of a beach, our breaths heavy and sharp as our mouths expertly worked

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around each other. A familiar hardness had grinded against my leg and Edward had let out a
small, unbelievably sexy moan. That moan, that one small noise, had triggered something
primal in me.
Coitus. The concept had once been horrifying and uncomfortable, with a side of
disgusting.
Now? I got it.
Edward and I had been at this thing for three years. With every kiss, with every
touch, with every moan, I wanted more of him. When Edward had proposed the idea of
waiting until marriage in ninth grade, I had easily agreed. But I hadn't known what I was
agreeing to, what I was giving up.
I still didn't know. Not really. I was aware of the technicalities of sex – penis meets
vagina. But the specifics, like what it would feel like when it was… inside, evaded me.
What I did know was the way the hair on the back of my neck would prickle when
he kissed me that special way. How goosebumps would cover every inch of my body when
he grazed his fingers over my skin. The increasingly urgent sensation in my abdomen that
came when I felt his weight, bathed in his scent, reveled in his taste. It told me I wanted
more, more, more.
If sex was anything like the rumors, I'd feel all that tenfold. I was willing to make
sacrifices to find out.
"I have a – a favor to ask," I had said between kisses.
He'd moved his lips down to my neck and nipped at my favorite spot. "Anything you
want, my cherry-pickle," he'd said distractedly.
My eyes had popped open. "I want you to never call me that again."
"Done."
His tongue had swirled lightly against my skin and I'd nearly lost my head
completely. "And… and I want to at least try having s-sex."
Instead of groaning and pulling away like I'd expected, Edward had chuckled. "I
think you're missing the point of virginity. Once you have sex, you lose it."
I'd gripped a handful of his hair and softly guided his attention from my neck to my
eyes. "Why does it matter?" I'd asked earnestly. "We're going to end up having sex one way
or another."
Edward had sat up and ran a hand through his tousled bronze locks. "It matters
because I want it to be special."
"We're going to have a lot of special moments between now and when we get
married," I'd said. "Right now happens to be one of them."
Edward had shaken his head. "Part of it being special is knowing for sure that we're
ready."
"I am ready." He'd cocked a skeptical eyebrow. "Really, I am. Look at me. I can talk
about it now. I want to have sex with you." My voice had raised an octave. "I want to have
sex with you. I WANT TO–"
A hand had clamped over my mouth. "You don't have to shout," Edward had said,
searching the neighboring darkness for signs of commotion. "I get that you want to use my
body for unspeakable acts. Now, are you going to behave and debate like a reasonable
person?"
I'd nodded and he'd removed his hand. "Sorry," I'd said. "But you said once we were
able talk about it, we could…"

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 "Talk about it," Edward had said. "And that was two weeks ago. I highly doubt in
that time we've gained the emotional maturity to take such a huge step."
"But I am ready," I'd whined.
He'd studied me for a few moments. "You know I love you, right?"
I had focused on his hands. His perfect, long, warm hands. Lightly, I had touched
the skin on the back of his ring finger. "Then be with me."
His hesitance had been hard to understand. He'd wanted to. Even without the proof
I'd felt through his shorts, I could tell. "Don't take this the wrong way," he'd said, "but I'm
not ready. I've always had this idea that we'd make love on our wedding night. I have it all
planned out–"
"What, like positions and stuff?"
The corner of his lip had twitched. "Among other things. My point is that's been my
fantasy for so long. I'm not ready to give it up."
"And what exactly happens in your fantasy?"
He'd smirked and smoothly ran a finger along my shoulder. "That's for me to know
and you to find out."
Shiiiiiiiit. That had so not been the time to be a tease. I'd been frustrated, sexually and
otherwise. "This is all completely stupid and unrealistic. Nobody waits until they're married
anymore."
"Cory and Topanga waited."
"They're fictional," I'd said.
"Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey aren't."
"You're going to make me explode with anticipation."
He'd laughed at some joke I didn't understand. "That is the general idea."
I'd scowled, then leaned into his sturdy body to watch the ocean waves lap the shore.
This debate so wasn't over, but if nothing else, he'd made a valid point. Jessica and Nick
were going to last forever.
Now I was wondering how much of the wedding night fantasy was Edward's and
how much of it was Charlie's. "What exactly have you said to him?" I demanded.
Charlie hopped up from his seat and collected a sheet of paper from the counter.
"I'm not telling. Whatever it was must have been effective, though."
My voice was a dangerous warning. "Father."
"Hey, if I happen to take Edward on a fishing-trip every year to solidify my vow that
I will kill him if he has sex with you before you're old enough, well, that's really none of your
business."
"You didn't."
"And if I happen to reiterate that point several times a month at the police station,
while my guns are being cleaned and clearly on display, well," he looked off in the distance,
as if the scene were replaying before his eyes, and chuckled, his attention then snapping back
to me, "that'd be none of your business either."
"My sex life is none of your business!"
"The unfortunate part about being your parent is that, until the day you turn
eighteen, your sex life is my business."
My cheeks were aflame with anger and outrage. How dare he? He had no right to
dictate anything related to my personal life. Who did he think was?

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 "Look, I get it. You have Renee telling you to practically throw your virginity out the
window at thirteen. Then you have me threatening your boyfriend and – what's the term? –
cockblocking your horm–"
"Ah! Ah!" I threw my hands over my ears and clenched my eyes together. "Stop
talking, stop talking, stop talking. I get it." Ew. That was a word I never wanted to hear out
of Charlie's mouth again.
Air wafted over my face. I opened my eyes to find him waving the paper from the
counter in my direction. That piece of paper was my golden ticket to the land of penis-
pictures, otherwise known as a Sex-Ed permission slip.
I released my ears, but kept my nose scrunched in protest. "What?" I asked.
"As I was saying, you're confused, understandably so. Listen to your teacher. She's an
unbiased source. You can learn a lot without being pulled in different directions." He leaned
over, signed the permission form, and handed it to me. "Have a good day."
Oh, I would.
Penis.

When I had heard that eleventh grade Sex-Ed showed pictures, I'd envisioned
images of an erotic nature illustrating the mechanics and inner workings of sex. Yeah, not so
much.
It was more like a never-ending parade of sexually transmitted diseases. I'd seen
penises aplenty. Penises covered in herpes, penises oozing gonorrhea-puss, penises
practically falling off from syphilis. Oh, and there were mutilated vaginas, too.
Edward was watching the slideshow through his fingers. Great. As if he didn't have
enough reasons to not have sex with me. He was probably imagining my vagina covered in
boils.
"What we're seeing in this photo," said Mrs. Dixon, pointing to a scrotum, "is the
effect of genital warts. This particular infection can appear in the genitals, around the anus,
or even in the mouth."
By the light of the projection screen, I could see Edward turn green. For a doctor's
son, he had a weak stomach. Any shred of hope I'd had of this class changing his mind was
rapidly slipping away.
My hand shot up. "Yes, Bella?" Mrs. Dixon asked.
The entire class swiveled to look at me. My cheeks flooded with mortification. Oh
God, if I asked my question, everyone was going to think I wanted to have sex. Or that I'd
already had sex. Or that I was a slut. Was it too late to ask for a bathroom pass?
"I was just w-wondering," I said, trying to find a way to phrase my question so it was
broad enough people wouldn't make assumptions, but specific enough to assure Edward
we'd be fine, "in order for STDs to be passed around, someone has to have them first,
right?"
"Good question. Yes. One of the sexual partners would have to be a carrier for it to
be transmitted." She opened the answer to the class. "It's important to note that not all
STDs show symptoms immediately. That's why it's important to get tested often if you're
sexually active."
That wasn't exactly the reassuring answer I'd been looking for. Edward certainly
wasn't convinced, but I couldn't ask a follow-up question without my classmates knowing
for sure I wanted to have sex. And that I was a virgin. And that Edward was a virgin.

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 "But what if both people have never been with anyone? Would there still be a risk?"
Angela asked. My best friend was an insane kind of awesome.
"It is highly unlikely, if both partners are virgins," Mrs. Dixon said. "It's not,
however, unheard of. Unfortunately some STDs can be transmitted without sexual contact.
Kissing, touching, even birth can create a carrier. There's also a risk of pregnancy."
Oh my God! Was this woman friends with Charlie or something?
Mrs. Dixon pressed a button on her clicker and the slide changed to an inflamed
vagina. The class groaned. "Now, onto the effects of Chlamydia…"
What felt like hours later, Mrs. Dixon turned off the projector and flipped on the
classroom lights. It took my tortured eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness. Edward's
head was buried in his arms on his desk.
"Hey," I said across the aisle. He turned to look at me; his cheek still rested on his
arm, giving the impression he was going to be sick. "You okay?" I asked.
"My dad's lectures were a walk in the Shire compared to that."
"You're being very dramatic about this." I borrowed his term for whenever he
thought I was overreacting. "Generations of Forks High students have sat through that
slideshow, survived, and went on to have sex. Lots and lots of sex."
"Sure about that?"
"How else do you think a town this small has maintained a population?"
"Next on the agenda," Mrs. Dixon said over the rumble of murmurs, "we're going to
divide into groups of two and do a sexual decision-making worksheet." She held up a
cowboy hat filled with little, folded papers. "We have an even divide of girls to boys, so the
boys will draw names to decide partners."
Edward raised his hand. "I'm with Bella," he said without waiting to be called on.
Mrs. Dixon gave an irritated chuckle. "As I said, Edward, we'll be drawing names to
decide your partners."
"Yes, I heard. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist. That," he nodded to the hat,
"makes me uncomfortable."
Whispers of "What's his problem?" and "Dude's got balls" were starting to buzz through
the classroom. Mrs. Dixon was clearly not happy about being undermined by a student.
"Well, if that is the case, Mr. Cullen," the emphasis on his name was sharp and
uncompromising, "you can insist yourself all the way to the principal's office."
An Ivy League rejection letter flashed before my eyes. Edward already had a huge
blemish on his record from getting suspended in freshman year. He couldn't afford another.
Still, he stared her down, then reached for his backpack.
My arm shot across the aisle and grabbed the bag at the same time he did. "Just do
what she says," I said under my breath.
"No," he said, just as quietly. "I'm not giving into tyranny."
The class was entirely silent, trying to get a wisp of our conversation. "Please," I said.
"Please, it won't be that bad. I promise."
He eyed me warily, then let go of the bag. "Fine," he said for the whole class to hear.
"Whatever."
For her part, Mrs. Dixon didn't seem interested in pursuing the argument, despite
Edward's continually petulant attitude. She passed the hat up the first row of desks. Edward
glared at every boy who got the hat, daring them to pull my name. None of them did.
When the hat arrived at his desk, he wasted no time in plucking a name. He scoffed
resentfully. "Who the hell is Jaime Smith?"

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 A quiet, mousy girl on the other side of the room made a peep. It was the definition
of irony. The point of random partner designation was to make someone like Jaime What's-
Her-Name feel comfortable in a public learning environment.
"At least try to be nice," I said, feeling bad for the girl. At the same time, it was kind
of adorable, Edward being shifty about discussing sex with other people.
The hat was two rows away before Emmett pulled my name from it. "Hey, I got
Bella!" he said cheerfully. He blew a kiss in my direction.
I giggled, caught the look on Edward's face, coughed twice, and sat up straight.
Emmett and I weren't friends, per se. We didn't hang outside Book Club or anything. But we
had gained something of a repartee over the last few months. Him, Angela, and I had a blast
at our monthly meetings (sans interventions). We'd even gotten a few new members to join
us for the Prisoner of Azkaban discussion.
Once the entire class was partnered up, Jaime came to take my seat next to Edward.
I brushed by him, and leaned down. "Be nice," I said in his ear. He turned as if to say
something, and caught me off guard by planting a lingering kiss on my lips instead.
"Thanks," I said. "But I didn't mean nice to me."
"I know." Edward put on a brilliant smile and turned to Jaime. "Hi, I'm Edward. It is
going to be an absolute pleasure discussing intercourse with you today."
Okay, he was being a douche, but I was beginning to see why this might make him
uncomfortable. Maybe I should have let him take his case to the principal's office.
"Yo, Bella!" Emmett called. "Seat's open over here."
I followed his voice to the back of the class, near the exit. "Hey, bud," I said, sitting
down.
"We got this in the bag." Emmett held out a fist. "We're pros at discussion shit by
now."
"Damn straight," I said, pounding it. Something about Emmett made me want to
cuss around him.
Mrs. Dixon explained about the worksheet: We'd have thirty minutes to complete it,
respect should be given on both sides during discussion, there were no wrong or stupid
answers (as long as we weren't trying to be obnoxious), and we didn't need to answer a
question if we felt uncomfortable. Edward made a grunting noise at that last one, which Mrs.
Dixon ignored. The more I thought about it, the more I realized she'd probably made a big
Sex-Ed no-no by threatening to send Edward to the office for saying he was uncomfortable.
If Edward pursued the matter, something told me she might be in trouble. I'd have to
convince him to let it go.
"Question one," Emmett said, bringing my attention back to the worksheet.
"Brainstorm the reasons why teenagers would postpone engaging in sexual activity."
"Let's see," I said. "They made a vow to wait until marriage when they were too
young to know what they were talking about. The girl's father has threatened murder if the
boy touches his daughter. The boy's a wuss and can't stand up to the girl's father, and is
afraid of contracting herpes or some other STD. I have a whole list of these; should I go
on?"
Emmett was looking at me like I'd grown a second head. "Personal experience,
much?" he asked.
"You could say that."
Unexpectedly, he burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh, right. I forgot. You and Edward
don't do the deed."

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 "What, is that publicized somewhere?" I asked, looking in all directions to make sure
no one had overheard. I caught a glimpse of Edward looking back at us curiously.
"Chill, Bella. Edward told me."
"Edward? My Edward?"
"Yeah. I mean, it was years ago. I thought for sure, by now, he'd have bitten the
bullet."
I could not believe my ears. "When did he talk to you about this?"
"Uh, if I remember correctly, right after the whole Mike beat-down in freshman year.
We were stuck in the office for a while." He wrote my answers down on the worksheet as he
talked, changing the phrasing to "Waiting until marriage. Not wanting to disappoint parents. Worried about
STDs or pregnancy." His penmanship was clear and tidy. It reminded me of Edward's.
"My mother made me take calligraphy classes when I was kid," he explained at my
notice. "That stays between the two of us."
"Pinky promise."
An irksome grinding noise startled me from our conversation. A manual pencil
sharpener was the cause. It was an old, clunky, metal thing located a few feet behind us,
fixed to the wall above the trashcan.
"Don't let me bother you," Edward said. "I'm just sharpening my pencil."
"Yeah, I bet your pencil needs sharpening," Emmett said.
I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh and hoped my face didn't reveal where
Emmett's joke had sent my thoughts.
"Dude, I swear, I'm kidding. It was too good to pass up," Emmett said, this time
holding out his fist to Edward. It reminded me of last year when we'd run into him at the pet
store, and Edward hadn't known what props was. "We cool?"
"Sure, dude." The way Edward tacked on the "dude" made me suspect he wasn't
entirely forgiving, even though he did the whole manly fist-bump thing.
"Okay, question two," Emmett said as I watched Edward walk back to his seat.
"Brainstorm the reasons why teenagers would choose to engage in sexual activity." He held
the paper straight up in front of him, as if looking for more of the question. "Ah, there's
only one good answer for that."
Love, he wrote on the worksheet.
"Personal experience, much?" I asked cautiously.
A fond smile overtook Emmett's face. "Yeah, I love my girl."
"Rosalie, right?"
"That's the one." He tossed a glance to the front of the room where Rosalie was
discussing her worksheet with Eric. "We're on the outs again, but it's only a matter of time
before she finds her way back to me."
"You, uh," I cleared my throat nervously. "You guys kind of break up a lot, don't
you?"
Emmett laughed, openly amused at my observation. "All the time. And over stupid
shit, too. This last break-up was over a chocolate fish."
"Wait, a chocolate fish?"
"I'm not kidding! The first time we got together, we were like eleven years old and
on this camping trip with our families. So, for her last birthday, I found this giant chocolate
fish that said, 'You're a Great Catch,' and gave it to her. She was not happy."
"She broke up with you over a stupid gift?" This was the girl who had lectured me
about breaking up with Edward over Lord of the Rings versus Harry Potter.

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 "It's totally fine. Breaking up is good for us. She likes that it keeps people talking
about us and I like the make-up sex. And that would be a T.M.I. thing, wouldn't it?"
"Yep," I said, having looked away awkwardly. It was interesting the way both he and
Rosalie could talk about it so casually. I wondered if Edward and I would ever get to that
place in our relationship.
My gaze wandered back to my boyfriend. Poor Jaime. Edward was completely
ignoring her, opting instead to glower at Emmett like he was a threat that needed to be
neutralized.
He's jealous, I thought. It thrilled me. Edward could say he loved me a thousand times
through Sunday. He could give me daisy rings and rehearse speeches and sneak kisses, and I
would never doubt he meant every word. Raw, unfiltered emotion like jealousy, though,
made me feel beyond loved. It made me feel desired.
Too bad it made him look like a two-year-old to everyone else.
"Do you think we should list anything else under that question?" I asked, turning
back to Emmett. "I agree love is the only good answer, but it doesn't seem like the most
common."
"What else would you list?" Emmett asked.
"Peer pressure? Hormones?"
Emmett jotted those down and we moved onto the next question. It was a case
study, meaning we had to read a story and discuss whether the characters made the right
decisions. Emmett was about halfway through reading about Lucy's summer lifeguard
adventures, when the grinding of the pencil sharpener started up again.
I looked back and gave Edward a cheeky grin. "You know, if you don't stop coming
over here, someone might think you're breaking your pencil on purpose so you can spy on
us."
"No, I legitimately broke my pencil this time," he said. "Well, I snapped it in half.
Accidently."
Emmett held up a purple plastic writing utensil. "You know, bro, it's the age of the
mechanical pencil."
"I prefer the more traditional number two," Edward said. "They're reliable. I like
knowing when the lead is going to run out."
Emmett laughed and shook his head good-naturedly.
"Are you behaving?" I asked.
"I'm surprised you have to ask. Of course, I'm behaving. I'm being a perfect
gentleman," he said with just the right amount of sarcasm and sincerity to make it difficult
for me to decide which he was being. He pulled his pencil from the sharpener. "Now, I must
get back to my ever-so-amusing partner for the continued discussion of fornication and all it
entails." Definitely sarcastic.
When he was back in his seat, he struck up, what appeared to be, a civil conversation
with Jaime. At least he was making an effort. He looked up and smiled when he saw me
watching, puckering a kiss in my direction. Emmett's hand waved about an inch in front of
my face. I startled and jerked back. "What's up?" I asked.
He gave me a knowing look. "He's not a wuss."
"Hmm?"
"Earlier, you said Edward was a wuss."
"What? No I didn't." I'd kick the butt of anybody that called him that.

  235  
 "Yes, you did. You said he's a wuss because he wouldn't stand up to your father and
he's afraid of STDs or something like that."
Oh, I did say that. "I didn't mean it that way," I said defensively.
"Sure you did." He didn't sound judgmental, only candid. "But he isn't. Do you have
any idea the kind of willpower a dude's got to have to not have sex?"
"Um, no?"
"Yeah, of course you wouldn't," Emmett said offhandedly. "How to describe it?
It's… it can hurt. Physically. It's like this ache, or maybe more like a pressure, like you have
this third leg and all you want to do with it is–"
"Too much. Too much," I said, reaching to cover my ears.
He smirked. "Sorry. I'm used to talking to Rose. She's not as squeamish as you."
"Hey, I am not squeamish!" Penis. Penis. Penis.
"All I'm sayin' is it takes a lot of strength for a guy not to give in. He has to have self-
control in spades, especially if you're willing."
I guess I'd never thought about it from that perspective. Always, I was there pushing
his boundaries, testing his convictions. If the roles were reversed, would I want him
pressuring me?
"You're right," I said, looking down at my fingers uneasily.
"Of course I am. I'm like Dumbledore. I know everything," he said.
"More like Hagrid," I quipped. We picked up our easy banter from earlier and
continued reading Lucy's adventures in lifeguarding and sex.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets was playing in the background on the clunker of
a TV in my bedroom. Angela was at my computer, reading off the Latin roots of magic
spells, while I wrote them on a poster in different colored markers and the neatest
handwriting I could muster. We were making a Harry Potter presentation board for extra
credit in Latin, our required foreign language class.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Angela said. "Latin roots arduus, diem, and levis. Arduus is
spelled with two u's, Bella." I scrunched an extra 'u' in there. "Definition is high, tall, sky or
heavenly, and light."
"Okay, got it. Next one?"
She scrolled down the webpage. "I think that's the last good one."
"That's fine. It's pretty full anyway." I held up the poster to inspect it. I'd written the
phrases crookedly across the blank canvas, so there was no rhyme or reason to the design. It
was more creative that way (and it took up more space). "Time to decorate, I think."
Angela slipped from the computer chair and joined me on the floor. I pulled a tub
with an assortment of craft supplies (glue, paints, glitter, anything you could imagine) from
under my bed. Most of the stuff was from when I was a kid, before Renee left Charlie.
"So, what did you think of Sex-Ed?" Angela asked, bringing up the one topic I'd
wanted to discuss most in the two days since the class.
"It was alright, I guess," I said casually, cutting out a picture of a wand we'd printed
off the computer. I ran a glue stick over the back of it and stuck it to the poster. "I'm not
sure I really learned anything that important. At least not from the teacher."
"What do you mean?"
"Emmett gave me some interesting insights into the minds of boys while we were
doing our worksheet."

  236  
 Angela sat forward. "Really? Like what?" Everyone pegged her as a hardcore prude
because she was a preacher's daughter. I knew better.
I grinned mischievously. "Just about how much guys like to do it. He described a
you-know-what as a third leg." At Angela's expression, I pulled the collar of Edward's old
hoodie over my lips and giggled into the fabric.
She slapped my arm. "No way."
"I'm not kidding! He did! And he convinced me to back off Edward about the whole
sex thing. He says it's hard enough, pun intended, to resist without me constantly saying I
want to do it."
Angela streamed an intricate, spiraling trail of glue around the spells and phrases.
"Emmett's awesome. We should invite him to do something sometime."
"Totally. He's a cool dude."
"Has Edward recovered? I thought he was going to have an aneurism when Mrs.
Dixon made him partner with Jaime."
"He was so pissed. It took me forever to convince him not to report her and to
apologize to Jaime. I felt so bad for her."
Sprinkling glitter over her fresh glue trails, Angela said, "Yeah. I didn't think Edward
had an impolite bone in his body until I saw that."
"He definitely has a temper when things don't go his way." I thought back to our
numerous battles. "Makes for some, er, aggressive post-fight make-out sessions."
"Oh my God, Bella!"
"Come on. You and Ben don't fight and make-up?"
"I'm lucky if I can get Ben to use his tongue when we kiss," Angela said, clearly
disappointed. "I think he's self-conscious or something. He always tastes like peppermints.
And we've never fought before."
"Definitely try it sometime. Tell him you don't like Rush Hour or something."
"I'll think about it," she said. "Besides all that, what'd you think of the class?"
"Pretty pointless. That slideshow was freaking disgusting."
"Disgusting and disappointing. I'm not gonna lie, I thought after sitting through an
hour of that, we'd be rewarded by at least getting to see what a thingy looked like erect."
"Me too!" Stuff like this was how I knew Angela was my girl-version of a soul mate.
"I thought we were going to see what one looked like hard!"
"Shh! You're dad's going to hear," she laughed.
"Oh, let him." I waved her off. "I'm so glad I'm not alone in this. I mean, we're girls.
We're supposed to be curious about this kind of stuff. God forbid we see one that isn't
flaccid and covered in some STD."
"I wish there was a way we could see one without needing a man or a Sex-Ed
teacher," Angela said.
"Google!"
"Whatle?"
I hopped up from the floor and ran over to my computer. "We can put it in Google.
They have this images feature. Maybe it will show us one."
"Ooo-kay?" Angela said, following me over to the computer.
I typed penis into the search engine and pressed the images tab. I slouched, defeated,
at the disappointing images. "It's just illustrations and diagrams and stuff. What a freaking
failure," I said. "Stupid website."
"Maybe try going to one of their recommended websites?"

  237  
 "I can't do that, Ange. It's all going to be porn and my computer will catch a virus
and I'll have to explain to Edward why I was looking at porn."
"Why would Edward find out?"
"Because he'd be the one to fix my computer. Duh." She nodded in understanding.
"Well, damn," I said. "I was sure this was going to work. Any other ideas."
Angela pursed her lips, thinking. "Yes," she said. "Maybe one."
Thirty minutes later we pulled up in front of Forks Library.
"You sure you don't want me to hang around?" Charlie asked, putting the truck in
park. "I took Latin back in the day."
"No thanks, Dad," I said, kissing him on the cheek and scooting out of Firebolt after
Angela. "Just be back to pick us up in like two hours. We'll be fine."
"I've changed my mind," Angela hissed once I'd hit the ground. "This is a horrible
idea."
"No, it's not." I grabbed her arm and yanked her in the direction of the library door.
"It's a fantastic idea."
"What if the library people see what we're doing and tell everyone in town?"
"They can't do that. It's against the Library Code of Conduct." She gave me an
incredulous glare. "All right, that's bullshit. But seriously, they won't know what we're up to.
We'll be sneaky and make sure to remember where all the books go so we can put them back
ourselves."
I practically shoved her through the door and dragged her over to the Health section.
After about ten minutes of looking through the shelves, it became abundantly clear how
poorly stocked the library was.
"I'm beginning to think someone doesn't want us to see an erect thingy," Angela
said. "Maybe this is divine intervention."
"God made penises. Of course he wants us to see them," I said, flipping through my
tenth book on human anatomy. Everywhere, absolutely everywhere, there were diagrams
and illustrations like we'd seen on Google. I didn't get it. Certainly it'd take less time and
effort to snap a picture.
Angela shelved her book. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place."
"Where should we be looking?" I asked. I was determined to find a photo. Just one
photo. This was personal now.
"Traditionally, artists are less stingy about naked people. Remember Titanic? Might I
suggest the Art section?"
I snapped my book closed. "What did I do to deserve such a brilliant best friend?"
The Art section was certainly more giving. We rounded up several promising books
and made our way to the back of the library. The darkened corner was tables away from the
other few stragglers, giving us a sense of privacy.
For the next hour, Angela and I giggled our way through the books. Goodness
gracious, even without the STDs, penises were ugly. In the back of my mind, I pictured
Edward's compared to the rest. His was way better. Our favorite book was a photo
anthology filled with black and white nudes. This was what Sex-Ed should have been about:
learning the human form and satiating our curiosity.
After we'd finished the last book, Angela sat back with a goofy grin. "I kinda feel like
I should feel guilty or dirty or something after looking at all that. But I don't."
"It's not like we're looking at porn. This is art. And there's nothing wrong with being
prepared," I said like a know-it-all.

  238  
 "Oh? So you're going to tell Edward about this? Since there's nothing wrong with
being prepared."
I thought about Edward's reaction if he found out about our little library excursion. I
feared for the lives of his pencils. "Of course not. I wouldn't want to sully your pure
reputation."
"Sully away. It'd be worth it to see Edward's reaction."
"Shut up." I tossed one of the smaller paperbacks at her. "You know my lips are
sealed."
She laughed and stacked the book on top of the rest. "Well, overall I'd say this has
been a very informative trip to the library. The sex stuff... I didn't know some of that was
possible. Like doing it in the shower."
"Yeah. And that thing with the chair." We each grabbed an armful of books and
started walking back to the Art section.
"So, do you feel more prepared?" Angela asked.
"I guess so," I said, rounding a corner. "There are some things you can't learn from a
picture, though. Like, how it feels and stuff–AHHH!"
A figure had bolted from behind the shelf. "Busted!"
It was so sudden and unexpected, I stumbled several steps back into a bookshelf.
Angela outright shrieked and dropped her books.
After a moment of petrified gaping, I recognized the culprit as my father, chortling
away uncontrollably. "Sorry. So sorry," he said, coming up for air. "I couldn't resist. The look
on your girls' faces…" he lost himself again.
"Yeah, real mature," I said, gasping for breath.
"Sorry," he said. "I was looking for you in the Foreign Language books. Heard your
voices coming this direction. As I said, couldn't resist a chance to – Isabella Marie Swan,
what the blazes is that?"
Bloody freaking Hell! One of Angela's fallen books had landed on a photo of a
naked couple doing… well, I wasn't quite sure what they were doing. Charlie bent down and
shifted through the rest of the spilt pile. Oh, there was mortification. Oh, there was pain.
Feebly, I said, "It's research."
He stood up and uncomfortably scratched the back of his neck. He turned around,
as if to walk away, but spun back almost immediately. He did that three times, clearly not
sure if he wanted to confront the situation head-on or run far away.
"I… Bells, I…" Catching a glimpse of Angela's horrified face, he ran a hand over his
face and let out a sigh. In a defeated voice, he said, "I'll wait for you in the car." He muttered
several curses as he walked away.
Angela collapsed to her knees in full panic mode. "You're Dad's going to think I'm a
pervert or deviant or bad influence or something!" she cried, clumsily picking up the books.
"No, he's not," I said. "He thinks you're an angel. If anything, he's going to blame me
for being the bad influence."
"Is he going to tell my parents?"
I retrieved a book that had tumbled near my feet. "He wouldn't do that. He'll be
discreet with you. As for me," I sulked, "I'm in for another sex talk."

  239  
 Chapter 27: The First Time She Said the F-Word

HTML was taunting me. It might as well have been one of Tolkien's mind-numbing
sonnets.
My messy bun flopped uselessly against the back of the computer chair with the rest
of my head. "It's no use. I've read this line twenty-three times. I can't figure out what's
wrong with it and the t-shirt colors still aren't alternating properly."
Edward walked over and kneeled down to look at the computer screen. He studied it
for about a minute, before taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead. "I have no idea
what I'm looking at. Where did this code come from?"
"I wrote it last night."
"From scratch?" I nodded. "Bella, this is incredibly complex work."
Something between a laugh and grunt croaked its way from my throat. "Don't I
know it? But it doesn't matter if it doesn't work. And it does not work. And I don't know
why."
"I wish I could be of more help. I know basic HTML, but this is beyond advanced.
You have surpassed me, young padawan."
"Please," I said tiredly, "no Elvish nicknames today."
"Wait. No. Entirely different fandom," he said, shaking his head. "You've been
looking at this too long. Take a break. Come back with fresh eyes."
Months of going between school and MyT-Spot were beginning to take their toll. I
didn't need a break. I needed a life. "Look at me." My head slumped towards him. "I am
tired. I am a mess. I am ugly."
Edward kissed the tip of my nose. "You may be tired and a mess, but you are never
ugly." He always had been a liar. "Now, why don't you take a break and let me look over
this? Maybe I can catch something if I try very, very hard."
"Fine." I stood and stretched my arms towards the ceiling. "You can look but don't
touch."
He eyed an exposed sliver of skin. "That does tend to be my lot in life."
Normally this would have been the part of the conversation where I hiked up my
shirt further and told him he could touch if he wanted. My new resolve not to pressure
Edward into things he wasn't ready for (and my unshaved legs) prevented me from doing so.
I walked over to his bookshelf instead. Different editions of The Lord of the Rings
occupied the entire top shelf. Below that, the books were organized neatly by size. I smiled
fondly when one caught my particular attention. I'd bet a shiny penny Edward was the only
teenage boy in the state of Washington that kept a Yellow Pages with the rest of his prized
novels.
"Can I borrow your phone?" I asked, pulling the Yellow Pages from the shelf.
"You want to order take-out?"
I flipped to the B section. "Nope. I have something else in mind." Plucking his new,
silver cell phone off the dresser, I settled down comfortably in the middle of the carpet with
the Yellow Pages and punched in a number.
"Odyssey Bookshop," a chipper woman said.
"'Ello!" I said in a highly affected British accent. "Do you have any Harry Potter
merchandise?"

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 Edward spun around. "What the hell are you doing?"
I smiled brightly and pointed at the phone.
"Yes, we carry the books."
"Hmm. I'm looking more for collectors memorabilia – puzzles, movie sticker books,
items of that nature."
"Uh, I'm afraid we don't have that in stock. If you have something specific in mind, I can try
ordering it into the store?"
"No, it's quite all right. I appreciate your time. Cheerio!"
"What was that?" Edward asked.
"That is how I plan on keeping myself entertained for the next thirty minutes," I
said, running a finger down the bookstore listings. I clucked my tongue at how few there
were around here.
"Okay, that really explains things. And the accent?"
"Um, hello. Obviously I don't want them to recognize my voice. Anyway, it's
funner."
"It's more fun."
"That's the spirit. You want to try one?"
"No, I mean, it's more fun because funner isn't a word."
"Whatever," I said, already dialing in the next phone number.
Edward frowned. "You're seriously going to sit there and make prank calls for the
next half hour?"
"It's not prank calling. I want to beef up my Harry Potter collection."
"But–"
"Shh!" There was a click, signaling the pick-up of the call.
"Hello. Port Book and News."
"Bonjour! I am looking for something zat is, 'ow do you say, 'Arry Potter?"
Edward eventually couldn't help but join in the fun. He wouldn't actually make the
calls, but he chuckled along with my many accents (all fantastic, I must say), and went online
to find stores in the Seattle area when the ones around Forks turned out to be utterly useless.
"Hey, this one looks promising," Edward said. "It's called Fantasy Books and
Movies."
"Nice." A store that specialized in the fantasy genre was bound to have some good
memorabilia. "Give me the number."
"Hello?" a bored male voice said after the fifth ring.
"Howdy, there," I drawled in a Jasper-esque cadence. "Is this Fantasy Books and
Movies?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Fantastic. I was wonderin' if you carried any Harry Potter merchandise that wasn't
the books?"
"This is an adult bookstore, Ma'am."
With the employee's uninterested tone and manner, it took a moment to understand
the slight. "You know what?" I said, dropping the accent. "I am so sick and tired of people
saying Harry Potter is only for kids. It transcends age."
"Ma'am–"
"No, do not try arguing with me. Just because Harry is a kid in the first book does
not mean he doesn't deal with adult themes and situations."

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 Edward was bent over the computer keyboard in hysterics. The stupid Ringer was
enjoying this way too much. I threw the Yellow Pages at him but missed by at least a foot,
which only spurred me on.
"And come on! People grow up! Harry has to deal with death and – and a lot of
other things you can't imagine."
"Ma'am–"
"What!"
"This is an ADULT bookstore."
What did that even mean, besides that the people who ran Fantasy Books and
Movies were ageist pigs? Why did they bother if they weren't going to sell real fantasy like
Harry Potter?
Unless… unless… slowly, so slowly, it dawned on me. Edward's smug face took on
a whole new meaning. The arse had set me up! Adult bookstore. As in… "Oh. Fuck."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Exactly."

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 Chapter 28: The First Time They Picked Up a Stray

Any sound above the click, click, click of computer keys and the shuffle of a mixed
CD was the grating buzz of an insect that needed to be squashed. My headphones provided
a portal to a world where I was queen, a world where the tap of my finger determined the
outcome. Music, the keyboard, and the construct of symbols, numbers, and letters that laced
together the backbone of MyT-Spot.com were all that existed here.
With Edward already having finished designing the new layout – no easy task, but
not nearly as complicated as coding backdoor features and building the technology needed –
his only job now was to be at my beck and call, in case of a missing graphic or last-minute
design alteration. Under no circumstances was he to disturb me otherwise, not with our
deadline two weeks away at the start of baseball season.
The music evaporated from my world as the pressure of headphones lifted. "Hello,
my lady love," the culprit said, twirling the bridge of my headphones around his index finger.
"Give me those." I yanked them back.
"Wow. Not even a hello. This is worse than I thought."
"I'm working. What do you want?"
"Coach gave me a call. What do you say we get out of here? Go to the diner?"
"Can't. Almost done."
"You hear that, Coach? She doesn't want to go out with me. I'm hurt."
Charlie was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. "It's not you. It's
her."
"You think so? I haven't grown scales or a third eye or something? Your daughter
used to be excited to see me. She used to…."
I was so not in the mood for their rehearsed banter. There was work to do.
Headphones back in place, I let the vocals of Kelly Clarkson call me back to the world of
character data, nodes, and tags. Edward had Elvish as his second language (and Spanish as
his third). I had HTML, CSS, JavaScript, XML, and FuckMeL.
Not one line of code later, two hands snagged their way around my waist and tugged
me from my chair. "Ahh!" I was airborne and callously flopped over Edward's shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"It's Friday night and we are going to dinner." Edward walked towards the door with
a surprising amount of stability.
"I don't want to go! Put me down!" My face was in uncommon proximity to
Edward's behind. I'd never seen it from this angle before. It was nice.
"Can you hand me her shoes?"
"No. Don't you dare, Dad. Arrest him! He's kidnapping me!"
"And I'm paying him to do it." I craned my neck around Edward's back to see
Charlie stuff forty dollars into my sneakers and hand them to Edward.
"Sir, you don't have to do that," Edward said, taking the shoes and keeping me
steady with one hand. "I'm happy to take her out."
"This one's on me, since you're performing a huge service. She's beginning to stink
up the place."
"I am not!"
"Have fun, kids."

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 "Thanks. We'll have a great time. Won't we, Bella?"
"Eat dung, you Muggles."
Charlie disappeared a little more with each stair Edward took. I death-glared him
down. Right before dropping completely out of sight, he stuck out his tongue.
"I know where you sleep, old man!"
"Stop shifting. I don't want to drop you," Edward said.
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you kidnapped me."
"Don't think of this as a kidnapping. Think of it as an intervention."
"An intervention? Been there. Done that. Now put me down."
"I'm not some common mule. I don't take orders." He stopped short of the door
and turned so I was facing the coat rack. "It's drizzling outside. Grab a sweatshirt."
"Um, hello? Not a mule, either."
"Fine." He swung around and heavy fabric flopped over my backside. "This hoodie
always was a particular favorite of mine."
I groped for the sleeve. "Which one is it?"
"My Spartans baseball hoodie."
"Oh, you probably want that back, don't you?"
"Ha! That'll be the day."
I pinched the only thing I could reach – his butt.
"Hey, hey! Hands, Missy."
"I thought you liked it when I borrowed your clothes."
"I do. But right now you're not borrowing my clothes so much as stealing them. I
keep having to buy new clothes, and those end up in your closet, too."
"If I return all your clothes, will you let me drive?" I'd finally gotten my license a
month ago but hadn't been able to use it nearly enough, work-related tasks keeping me
cooped up.
"No way. You'll fall asleep at the wheel," he said, depositing me at the passenger seat
of the Volvo. He opened the door and bowed my entrance.
"I've been sleeping just fine, thank you very much."
"That's not what Coach says." He shut the door before I could answer.
It wasn't until he had started up the ignition and pulled us out onto the street that I
said, "I sleep. Maybe not as well as I slept in Florida, but I sleep."
He stared straight ahead to the road. The only indication that I had broached a taboo
topic was the ticking of his thumbs against the steering wheel. After a while, he asked, "Is
that something you need to talk about?"
"I liked waking up next to you every morning," I said quietly.
The first time it had happened, it was by mistake. Edward and I had been watching a
late-night movie in his guest bedroom, and we'd drifted off to sleep. The next morning I had
woken up tucked comfortably into his side.
I'd looked up to find Edward watching me.
"Hey," I'd said.
"Hey."
Aside from our hellos, we hadn't moved or spoken. We had just stared into each
other's eyes, sharing the kind of intimacy that made you want to explode with bliss – the
metaphorical kind of exploding. We had made sure to "accidentally" fall asleep in front of
his TV from that night on and never spoke about it because… well, because it was us and
because it was right.

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 Edward snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Earth to Bella. Can you please stay
on this plane of existence for at least a few hours? I haven't seen you in weeks."
"You see me everyday."
"No, I see Metabel, Queen of Doctype." The car pulled into the diner's parking lot.
"Who?"
"Your evil alter-ego that takes over when you're coding. That's what I call her."
"Does that make you King of Doctype?" I asked, once we were out of the car and
walking hand-in-hand to the entrance.
"I'm afraid not. I am a lowly peasant forced to kidnap the queen to save her from
herself." I'd forgotten I was being kidnapped. I snatched my hand back.
The best thing about this diner was the privacy, being as each booth had partitions
high enough to at least give the illusion of it. We settled in a booth toward the back and
placed our orders. The moment we were alone again, Edward got down to business.
"About our sleeping arrangement in Florida," he said, "I can't begin to describe how
much I miss seeing you first thing every morning. The month we were there, it was like
getting a snapshot of what our lives are going to be once we're old enough to move in
together."
"What's the but?" I asked, fully expecting one of his lectures on why what we did
was wrong and how we couldn't do it again until we were married.
"No but. I don't regret anything we did or didn't do in Florida. One thing your mom
gave us was freedom just to be. And it was great for a summer."
"But?"
"There is no but, Bella. Unless you want there to be."
My eyebrows crinkled. "Are you talking real butt now?"
"No, I'm still on the conjunction," he said.
I watched his fingers break the napkin band from around the silverware as I chewed
over what was bothering me. If there was no but, then why couldn't we do it again? I didn't
voice my question because I already knew the absurd number of reasons that stood in our
way, Charlie being the main one, lack of accommodations being the second.
Edward seemed to know where my thoughts had gone. "At sixteen, we're growing
up but we're not grown up, yet. That's why I want you to relax and take a break from all this
website business."
"I find that funny coming from you. You've been working like a little grown-up since
I met you."
"That's very true and maybe that's why I want to enjoy this while I can. Most of my
life I played grown-up because, before we met, my only friends were adults. Now I have one,
maybe two years left of being a carefree youth, whatever that means, and I want to embrace
it."
It was hard not to point out that there were many things the carefree youth of today
engaged in that we did not. I kept my mouth shut, remembering my oath to stop pressuring
Edward into stuff he was not ready for.
"Come on," he said, flicking his napkin band, which he'd folded into a triangle,
across the table at me. "Aren't you glad that I'm not the same socially-stunted, boring Ringer
from eighth grade?"
I sat up. "Don't you dare make fun of my Swirl. I love him."
"Do you now?" He seemed surprised at how sharp I'd sounded.
"Absolutely."

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 Edward closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
"What are you do–"
"Shhh." He held both index fingers out to me, then let them slowly descend to the
table. "I need a second."
"What–"
"I need total peace, Bella."
When he opened his eyes again, Edward had disappeared into himself. He looked as
if he was far away. Then he opened his mouth.
"Hello. I'm Edward Cullen, founder and president of E.C.T-shirts. I am thirteen
years old and I have my birth certificate if you need me to prove it." He spoke in the soft,
but crisp, voice I'd all but forgotten. It was peculiar hearing thirteen-year-old Swirl coming
from sixteen-year-old Edward. "Here is my business card. It has my phone number, fax
number, and email address. Please contact me at any time, because you are the most
beautiful, angelic, breathtaking creature I've ever seen.
"Have you read The Lord of the Rings? Tolkien is the master of language. I've read the
series almost fifty times, myself. Bella, wait!" I jumped at the shout and he became suddenly
somber. His tone lowered to an almost inaudible whisper. "Maybe it would be best if you
didn't stand so close to the bed."
Tears sprung into my eyes and I buried my head. Edward was by my side in a
moment, wrapping me in his arms. "What's wrong?"
"I miss that little boy. He was so precious," I wailed. "He was so adorable and so d-
d-dorky. He was adorkable."
"He's still right here." Edward took my hand and placed it over his heart. "And if it'll
make you feel better, I swear, I'll walk around acting just like him until the day we die of old
age."
A giggle took me by surprise. "Just you offering to do that was totally Swirl-esque." I
wiped my eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm just so tired."
"I know." He hugged me closer. "You need a good night of sleep."
"I can't. I have too much to do."
"MyT-Spot is not worth this, Bella. Nothing is."
"You don't understand what I'm up against here."
"How about this? You tell me a problem, and I'll explain why you don't have to
worry about it."
"Fine." If it would get Charlie and Edward off my back so I could finish the damn
project… "Our deadline's approaching and if I don't keep pushing through, I'm not going to
make it."
"That's too easy. The deadline was tentative. We can push it back to however much
time you need."
"You don't get it. I have to make that deadline because if I don't…" It felt like all the
air was sucked out of my body just thinking it. "If I don't, I'll never be able to push myself to
finish it again. This is soul-sucking work. I love it, but it is so hard. And I am so tired. That
deadline is the light at the end of my tunnel."
"But if you don't finish–"
"I will."
"But if you don't, Bella, it's not going to be the end of the world. We can put this
project on the back burner until you're ready to approach it again."
"No, we can't."

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 "I'm the CEO and I say we can."
"No, we can't."
"Why ever the hell not?"
"You wouldn't understand."
Edward was definitely beginning to lose his patience. He rubbed an exasperated
hand over his brow before grabbing my right hand. "Remember this?" he asked, touching
my daisy dare ring. "We're partners, Bella, and not just in business. You owe it to me to stop
telling me I won't understand and help me to do so. Please."
I sighed and sagged back into the booth. "You've never had to worry about money
before, so you probably haven't thought about this yet." Somehow admitting I was poor was
harder than talking about sex. "But I need the money for college. You're going to want to go
to somewhere excellent and even studying every second I'm not working on MyT-Spot
won't get me a scholarship. I'm not going to let money stop us from following our dreams."
He hammered the table a few times, pondering. "Okay, um, how do I break this to
you?"
"Before you offer to pay, let me just tell you now I won't accept your money. This
website is my ticket. It's going to change everything. Wait and see."
"You're not wrong about the website being your ticket." He lingered on the last word
and let out a breath. "Okay, I'm just going to say it. My grandmother is paying for your
college."
A reluctant chuckle made its way up my throat. "Don't be silly. I can't accept money
from your grandma. That would be wrong."
"It's a little too late for that."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Hey, this has nothing to do with me." He held up his hands. "You're the one who
took the job at MyT-Spot."
"What?"
"Think about it. How much money do you have saved up for college?"
"Just under forty thousand."
"That's not a bad haul. We'll estimate a combined hundred thousand between the
both of us. How much has MyT-Spot made in t-shirt sales since we started in eighth grade?"
"Excluding manufacturing costs, somewhere in the realm of thirty-thousand," I said.
"Right. Do you spot a discrepancy there?"
Sure, the website hadn't paid for itself yet. But that's what an investment was. The
business was growing and would continue growing, especially with the new developments I
was working on. "Don't you think there's a possibility Mrs. Evans will make her money
back? That all this work will be for something?" I asked.
"Yes, there is a possibility." He said it with the air of an adult trying to let a child
down easily. "Our business does extremely well, especially considering it was established by a
couple of middle-schoolers. I don't want you to feel this diminishes our accomplishments in
any way, but Grandma Evans' investment was never in the business. It was in us."
"And she told you all this?"
"Not exactly. I was snooping around her checking book. She puts every penny we
make off MyT-Spot into a bank account called The Wedding Fund."
My knee hit the underside of the table. "Ow!" I howled, rubbing my aching skin.
Edward shooed my hand away under the table and took over massaging it. "And you don't
have a problem with that?" I asked.

  247  
 "Well, no. Not really." His hand moved from my knee to my thigh. "I want a big
wedding, see."
A chill went up my spine. "I don't get this at all. What's the point of investing in a
company if your investment never pays off?"
"It did. Don't you see? Forgive my frankness, but Grandma is loaded. She doesn't
need the money, and would have paid for school anyway. What's brilliant is that she found a
way to pay for college and teach us business and life skills along the way. And it made us
happy to earn it."
"Happy to feel like we earned it."
"No. We earn every cent we make off that website. I mean," he scooted away a
fraction and gave me a once-over, "look at you."
He was masking his intent with a joke, but I saw right through it. "Are you trying to
tell me I'm ugly?"
"You couldn't be ugly if you tried. No make-up, hair in a messy thing," he twirled his
hand above his bronze tresses, "wearing one of my shirts under one of my hoodies, you look
gorgeous." He cringed and focused on his water glass. "If not a little unkempt."
"Unkempt? Unkempt? I am perfectly kempt. I still shower and brush my teeth in
between working my ass off for the company and working my ass off for school."
"I know you're working your ass off. That is the point of this whole intervention."
"Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?"
"Of course not! You could come to school wearing a paper bag over your head and I
wouldn't give a shit. I wouldn't have brought up the appearance thing if Coach hadn't asked
me to."
"I hate it when you and Dad talk about me behind my back."
"Only because you were facing the computer and had your headphones on. We were
in the same room as you while we were discussing it."
I bit my lip. That was incriminating. "Where's our food?"
"No deflecting. This whole thing hasn't been about the way you look. We don't care
about that. It's about taking care of yourself and being healthy. What is it going to take from
me for you to do that?"
"Look, I appreciate your concern, but we're so close to the finish line. Now is the
time to all out sprint, not the time to hold back."
"I saw a thirty-two inch Harry Potter action figure online. I'll buy it for you if you
promise to take it easy."
"I'm not ready to make any promises."
"Not even for an exact replica of Harry Potter's wand?"
I cracked a smile. "Not even."
"Forget the replica. I can find you an original."
"There's nothing you can offer me that's going to make me change my mind."
"How about…" Edward tapped his chin. "An I-Owe-You. One favor from me,
redeemable at any time in the future. Standard rules applies."
"You still owe me one of those from the night you gave me this." I held up my right
ring finger.
"But imagine what you could get me to do with two of those suckers."
"I'll think about it." I wouldn't.
The waitress finally came over with our food, and with it she ushered in a rowdy
gaggle of girls to the table before ours. The high partitions could only block so much and,

  248  
unfortunately, obnoxious was not included. They were very loudly discussing their favorite
movie sex scenes.
"Do you mind if I ask you a hypothetical?" Edward asked, as one of the girls began
to dissect Cruel Intentions.
I dug into my fries. It felt like I hadn't had real food in weeks. "Sure."
"Obviously, the reason why I am the way I am today is because of you. You gave me
the confidence to make friends and expand my interests, to really live my life."
"That's not true."
"It is, Bella. I've thought about this before, where I'd be if we'd never met. I think I'd
be trapped in the same loop as middle school. I'd be alone and friendless, standing on the
outside of everything as I took pictures for the yearbook."
The image he painted broke my heart. "Is that the hypothetical?"
"No." His fork scraped the plate's rim. "I was wondering if… if we hadn't met in
eighth grade, but somehow I was exactly the same as I am now. Do you think you'd still
want to be with me if we met today?"
"Without a doubt, yes."
"How can you be so sure?"
"You were cute back in eighth grade, but you're hella hot now. There's no way I
wouldn't notice you. If anything, I don't think you'd notice me."
Edward scoffed. "That's ridiculous."
"Not five minutes ago you called me unkempt."
"In the hypothetical, I still find you the most alluring woman to cross my path. But
that's just surface attraction. Do you think our personalities are compatible without three
years of relationship behind us?"
"Do you?" I asked, getting worried. Where was this coming from?
"I'm not the one who burst into tears when reminded of who we once were."
Ah. "It made me nostalgic is all. We were so cute back then, all naïve and new to
everything. You resemble that young boy more than you'd like to think. You're still Swirl,
just a few years older."
"But–"
"We complement each other just as much now as we did back then. I mean, look at
MyT-Spot. You designed it, I built it, and it's going to be amazing because of both our
contributions. We're a freaking power couple. Like Britney and Justin."
He squeezed my hand. "We've talked about this. Britney's married to someone else
now."
"Oh, ye of little faith."
We fell into silence as we ate, and Edward's head seemed to be somewhere else
entirely, perhaps plotting a more successful intervention. I found myself reluctantly listening
to the debate next door. The two girls who were going back and forth sounded around my
age, though I couldn't place their voices. They thought they were so cool, discussing sex
openly in public. You could hear it in their brashness.
"Alice, what's with the silent treatment?" the girl I'd labeled Thing 1 asked.
I stopped chewing and sat up.
"I'm bored." And she sounded it. That was definitely my Alice. I shuddered. When
had she become my anything? That is definitely the Alice I know, I corrected. "We've had this
same conversation a thousand times."
I swatted Edward on the arm. "You almost ready to go?"

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 "Have you eaten enough?" he asked, frowning at my half-finished burger.
"I want to take it To-Go. They're being hella annoying."
My explanation was reinforced with Thing 2's, "What else is there to talk about in
this loser town? We learn more from movies than we did from Sex-Ed this year."
"That's fine." He wiped his hands on his napkin. "I'll track down the waitress."
"Alice, if you want to talk about something different maybe you can give the four-
one-one on Harry Potter Girl and her boyfriend." I grabbed Edward's arm, pulling him back
into the booth. Thing 2 kept talking, so she must not have seen him. "You're friends with
her, right?"
There was a certain morbid curiosity keeping me glued to the seat. Nothing these
people said could be good, but I wanted to hear it anyway.
"We are so not friends. I'm only using her to get to Jasper." If nothing else, I had to
admire Alice's talent for not mincing words. My admiration faded when I saw the look on
Edward's face. Right. I'd have to explain that one later. "Why do you ask?"
"Ash mentioned Sex-Ed and I remembered what Edward was like during that class. I
felt so bad for Sarah what's-her-face being partnered with him."
"I'd forgotten! He was a total freak," Thing 2 said. I lurched to break her face.
Edward blocked me in. "But I have to admit, he's fine in a hot geek sort of way."
Thing 1 gave a hyena laugh. "Sorry, sweetie. I forgot you tried to blow him last year."
My jaw dropped and, before it could be helped, I shot Edward a lethal glare. "I have
no idea what she's talking about," he whispered. I discharged a heated breath and relaxed my
grip on his arm. It wasn't his fault we were surrounded by boyfriend-stealing skanks.
"Whatever. So what's the dealio? Is he socially-defunct or something?"
"No, he's cool," Alice said, to her extreme benefit.
"There has to be something wrong with him to stay with Harry Potter Girl. Forget
the weirdness, she's become a total dumpster-woman."
My turn to hold Edward back had come. I gripped his arm and offered a small smile.
Thing 1's insult had the odd effect of not offending me at all.
"She's been working hard lately," Alice said. "Give the girl a break."
"The only break she needs is one to the jaw to fix that overbite." That was new. No
one had ever insulted my teeth before. It stung.
Thing 1 was tittering uncontrollably at the wit of Thing 2 when Alice stopped all of
us cold. "Oh, shut up. Can you say jealous much?"
"Jealous? Yeah, right!"
"You are totally jealous of her and so is every other girl in school. We'd all pay a
million bucks to have a boy look at us the way Edward looks at her."
It was the kind of thing I'd expect a nice person to say, not Alice f-word Brandon.
Was it possible that Stage Two: Personality Replacement had actually taken? Was I some
kind of genius?
"What the hell, Alice? You've been acting like a complete bitch since you started
hanging out with that whore."
"How can you call her a whore? You're the one who tried to sleep with her
boyfriend, which seems to me a pretty clear indication of who the whore is."
The bickering only picked up from there, morphing into subjects beyond the two of
us. Edward pulled out the forty dollars from Charlie, placed it under the saltshaker, and
pointed to a back exit. Excellent. We could escape without being seen.
As soon as the door shut behind us, Edward turned on me. "What was that?"

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 The rain had gone from drizzling to outright pouring and was banging heavily on the
small canopy above us. I pointed to my ears, pretending I couldn't hear, flipped my hood up,
and ran out into the rain. Taking the back exit meant we had to walk around the whole
building to get to the parking lot. It gave me time to think about how I was going to tell
Edward about my Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend or, perhaps, figure out a way to
avoid it altogether, but by the time both our doors had slammed us into the dry car, nothing
had struck.
"It's time, Bella."
"Time?"
"After the intervention, the first one about Alice, I let the subject drop, assuming
you'd tell me what was going on with her when you were ready. Given what we just
overheard, I think it's time you let me in to that part of your life."
What was I scared of? That he'd be mad? Disappointed? That once he found out
what we were up to, he'd shut us down permanently? Maybe we should be shut down.
Maybe playing matchmaker was wrong.
"If nothing else," he said, "it's evident now more than ever that you and Alice are
friends."
That got a reaction from me. "We are not friends. You heard her."
"Right. She's using you to get to Jasper."
No. I was using her to distract Jasper.
I didn't say that because it wasn't true anymore. This whole thing may have started
out as a silly ploy to divert Jasper's attention away from Edward, but he'd been altogether
tolerable since that first failed intervention. Now I did it because… I did it because…
Looking out into the darkness beyond the car window, I willed myself to admit the
reason. I did it because… Alice wasn't that bad. A runaway groan escaped at the admission
and I hadn't even said it aloud.
"You know what? It's late and you're exhausted," Edward said, sticking the key into
the ignition. "Maybe we could try this conversation tomorrow after you've had time to sleep
on it."
I knew there was a reason why I loved him. There were thousands, actually, but the
occasional compassionate reprieve topped the list at present. And as a reciprocal gesture, I
would give him what he wanted by taking the night off, crawling into bed, and sleeping a
solid twelve hours.
At least that would have been the plan if fate hadn't stepped in. Edward turned on
his headlights, illuminating a dog about five feet in front of the car. We hadn't seen it before
because its black fur had camouflaged it into the night, but there it was: medium-build,
shaggy, soaked.
"It's the grim," I said ominously.
"It is not the grim," Edward rebutted. "Wait, where are you going?"
"We can't just leave it out there. It's pouring."
"That thing could have rabies for all you know! Bella! Bella!"
I was already out and making my way over to the dog with an outstretched hand.
"Hey, little buddy. I'm Bella. You're not going to bite me, are you?"
"Bella, get back in the car now."
"Ignore him. He's always grumpy." I took another step forward. "But me and you,
we're going to be good friends, aren't we?"
"Bella!"

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 "It's okay, Edward," I shouted without looking back. There was only about two feet
between the dog and me now and eye contact was essential to developing trust. "He's a
sweetie." The dog opened his mouth into a smile and let his tongue out in a lovable pant,
which I took as permission to close the gap.
Before I could take another step, Edward came barreling toward us. "AAAIIIIEEE!"
he yelled, charging over with his arms flailing. I'm sure he thought he was being very brave;
he looked like a drunken goat.
The dog didn't budge, except to wag its tail.
"Argh!" Edward tried again, right up in the dog's face.
"Apparently you aren't that scary."
Edward stepped back and reevaluated the situation. "It isn't easily spooked. What
does that mean?"
"It means he likes humans," I said, finally making contact. I started with a few
strokes on his head. The dog seemed receptive so I made my way to his neck, where I felt
around for a collar. My fingers only found matted, coarse fur. Underneath all of that, I
detected a slight shiver. "He's cold."
"Come on, Bella. There's nothing we can do about that. Let's go home."
I turned on my boyfriend, stunned by his indifference. "He has to come back with us
for the night. It's our moral obligation."
"Are you crazy?" he shouted over the rain. "Our parents would kill us!"
"Esme and Carlisle would totally do the same thing. This could be some poor, little
kid's missing dog."
"So he's coming to my house then?"
"Charlie's just as coldhearted as you are. We both know he'd stick the dog in the
shed. We can actually help the dog at your house."
"And how do you expect to get him there?" Uh… that was pretty obvious. I glanced
at his car. Apparently it hadn't been obvious to Edward. His grimace said so. "No, no, no,
no. No, no, no. NO. You can't put that thing in my car! I'll never get the smell of wet dog
out."
"Really, Edward. Now is not the time to act like a superficial teenage boy."
"Who's acting?"
"Now is not the time to be a superficial teenage boy. Be Swirl."
"Swirl hates animals!"
Something hit me like a ton of bricks. "What about our pets?"
"What pets?"
"Our future pets. I want at least three to begin with."
"Is this really the time for this discussion?" Edward asked, cupping his hands to
catch the rain. He had a point. We were both drenched through our clothes at this point.
"Either we bring this dog back to your house in your car, or I'm walking him back to
my house in the rain. I'll most likely catch pneumonia and die, but it'll be worth it to know I
did the right thing."
Edward narrowed his eyes, sizing me up. I held my ground.
"If we bring the dog home tonight, you have to promise to take two weeks off work.
You have to let the website deadline pass before you start working on it again. No cheats. As
a matter of fact, I want the file removed from your computer until the day after the
deadline."
"But–"

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 "And I want the whole truth on Alice. Tonight."
Pneumonia almost seemed the fairer option, but one look down at the dripping dog
melted my resolve. "Deal."

"Can you pass me the scissors? Willow has a few patches of fur that need to be
snipped."
"Willow?" Edward repeated without doing as I asked. To his revulsion, his bathtub
had been transformed into a dog spa. His form of protest was leaning against the sink
console, completely useless.
It didn't bother me in the least. I was quite Zen-like at the moment, scooping up
cupfuls of warm water and pouring them over Willow's coat. "The obvious choice would
have been Sirius or Padfoot. Or Fang, I suppose. But I like Willow. It's fandom-neutral."
"How do you figure?"
"We both like Buffy."
"Willow's a redhead."
"Not when she goes evil. Dark Willow has hair as black as dog Willow." Except for a
brown-peppered spot that ran from Willow's left leg to his tail.
"You shouldn't be naming the dog at all. I know you. Once you name an animal, you
get attached." There wasn't much point in denying that. He'd only throw Belle the blue jay in
my face. I'd been devastated when he migrated and never perched on the branch outside my
window again. "So it's a girl, then?"
"Who, Willow? No, he's definitely a boy."
Edward opened one of the drawers under the sink and pulled out a pair of scissors.
"I'm not even going to ask."
"It's our tradition. All male pets will be named after kick-ass fictional women."
"I said I wasn't asking."
"There were other indications that you were deathly curious."
"And, Bella? Bella, look at me." He held the scissors out. "That dog is not our pet.
We're taking it to the shelter tomorrow."
I took the scissors but didn't respond. Willow was a special dog: the strong, silent
type. He'd been so good during his bath, happy even. There was something about those
wide, brown eyes and that content little puppy pant that made my heart puddle. He didn't
flinch as I cut the first patch of matted fur from his coat. They were all over his body, which
led me to believe he was either a stray or had terrible owners. Either way, I hated the idea of
leaving him at a shelter.
"Back to the other thing," Edward said, breaking into my mounting doggedness (pun
intended). "Let me see if I have this right. Since sophomore year, you have been conspiring
with Alice to make Jasper fall in love with her."
"Correct."
"And your basis for my friend's future happiness was a compatibility quiz from
Seventeen magazine?"
"And my unfailing intuition."
"You realize you're insane. Right?"
"I'm not unaware."
"What's with all the daily lunch chats? That's been going on for months now."

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 "That's Stage Three: Re-Introduction to Society. We've been trying to snag her a
lunch invite since the start of the year."
"Why don't you just invite her to come sit with us?"
"My plot is diabolical, Edward. A lunch invite from Angela or me is meaningless
because we're in on it. An invite from you or Jasper, or even Cynthia, means she's
accomplished something."
"I hate to break it to you, but that is never going to happen. And Jasper isn't going to
fall for her. He hates her."
"Hate is a strong word. I have reason to believe we're making progress."
"I almost forgot. He got a haircut."
Having something to distract me while I'd told Edward about my Diabolic Plot had
been helpful to the point of complete honesty, no matter how nuts I sounded. "Say that as
sarcastically as you'd like, but ask yourself: what would you do if I told you I didn't like your
hair?"
Edward wiped a hand down his face. He'd been doing that a lot tonight. "Are you
almost done in here? I have to get the stairs cleaned up before I can take you home."
Funny fact: wet dogs with tons of fur can track in a lot of mud, much to the
displeasure of even the most generous parents. "I'll be down to help you in ten minutes."
He stepped behind me and gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Don't worry about it.
Please, just stay with him and make sure he doesn't touch anything when he gets out of the
tub. I already have to clean out my car. I don't fancy having to decontaminate my room,
too."
"No problemo," I said, placing my hand over his. "Hey, Edward?"
"We aren't keeping him."
"That isn't what I was going to say."
"In that case, how can I help you?"
"I was just going to point out that more than one person is capable of change since
middle school."
He took a moment to let that sink in. "I'll give it a few days before I decide whether
or not I want to pull the plug on your diabolical plot."
"Thanks. And Edward?"
"Yeah."
I gave Willow a syrupy grin. "You really need to have every square inch of your ass
kicked."
"Quoting Dark Willow to me is not going to persuade me to let you keep him, no
matter how much it turns me on."
"I love you?"
"Yeah. You better," he joked, giving me a look as dirty as his bathroom.
Missing chunks of fur gave Willow an odd, spotted appearance, but there was
nothing to be done. He's ugly cute, I determined. As soon as he was free of the bathtub, he
shook out his fur, tickling me with a spray of water droplets. It was time to make use of the
dry stack of clothes Edward had left on the counter for me, and though I knew Animagi
were the brilliant invention of J.K Rowling, I felt compelled to put Willow outside while I
disrobed. Just in case.
His damp paws slipped all over the tiled floor as I led him through the bathroom to
Edward's connected bedroom. At least they weren't muddy anymore. "Sit," I said firmly.

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Apparently, he hadn't learned that command yet, so I pressed gently down on his backside
until he was in the sitting position and added a, "Stay."
But Willow wasn't there when I came back; he'd made himself comfortable in the
middle of Edward's bed. Forget the puddle – my heart was an ocean. This was my kind of
dog.

"You should see the mess she made in here. Your daughter's a hurricane."
Something warm was snuggled against the curve of my body. It was furry, which
meant it wasn't Edward. It still felt nice. Comforting.
"She's out like a light. I don't want to wake her," the voice continued. The words
were distant, coming from the bathroom. "Don't worry. I'm sleeping in the guest
bedroom… Yes, I realize you would shoot me if I tried anything… Come on, Coach, my
parents are in the other room. That's not exactly how I pictured it happening… That's –
that's not what I meant at all. Of course I've never pictured it before…"
A sleepy smile tugged on my lips. Charlie giving Edward a hard time was funny even
half-conked. I slipped back into unconsciousness to the sound of Edward's blustering.

Willow was the talk of our lunch table come Monday. I made sure of it. I told Jasper
and Angela all about the way he would quirk his face to the side if you blew on him and how
the only time he'd bark is if Edward clapped his hands three times. I also talked about what
we'd learned from the vet over the weekend: he was around two years old, had never been
vaccinated (which made it more likely he was a stray), and was a mutt of indistinguishable
proportions.
Jasper seemed to be in a world of his own, but at least Angela appeared interested.
"So what's the plan?" she asked. "Are you keeping him?"
"I definitely want to, but Edward's the holdout."
Edward let out the same huffy puff he'd been giving me all weekend. "I just feel like
this is a really important life decision that we should take our time to consider. We have two
weeks. This doesn't have to be an impulsive decision."
"What happens in two weeks?"
"The shelter predicts they'll have space open in two weeks to take him in." I gave
Edward a calculated glower, still speaking to Angela. "You don't even want to know what
that means."
"And your parents are okay if you decide to keep him?"
"I actually think they want us to," I said. "Charlie thinks it's a good way to teach us
responsibility, which translated means he thinks it will prevent me from getting knocked up
like my mother."
"But there are stipulations if we decide to keep him," Edward said pointedly. "Like
we have to take care of all of his needs without our parents help and make all decisions
regarding him together. They think the dog can teach us valuable life lessons for when we
get married. So far, I've learned Bella sucks at teamwork."
"I do not."
"Did I get a say on his name?"
"Hey, Bella," a squeak of a voice broke in. Alice was standing behind my shoulder,
lunch tray in tow.

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 In all the excitement over the weekend, we'd forgotten to practice a topic of
discussion for today. "Hey, Alice," I said, preparing to wing it.
"Hello, Alice," Jasper said.
She almost dropped her lunch tray. The rest of us had similar reactions. In the four
months Alice had been coming by for our daily chats, Jasper had never once spoken to her.
Or acknowledged her. Or looked at her.
"I have to go," Alice said prematurely. She was panicking.
"Oh. Yeah. Have… the fun." Jasper said, which oddly brought Alice back to Earth.
"No, you have the fun." She was back to her usual flirtatious self. I wasn't sure if that
was a good or bad thing.
"Okay. I'll have all the fun."
"You can't have all of the fun," Alice laughed. "There won't be any left for the rest of
us."
What. The. Hell.
Was. She. Doing.
Whatever it was, Jasper was going with it. He gave her an easy smile. "But you told
me I could have the fun."
"Some, but not all. I think sixty-nine percent of the fun is just right."
Months and months of calculated, hard work… down the drain. I would have
banged my head on the table if I hadn't caught a glimpse of Jasper's face. He was eating up
every word.
Alice ended the bizarre exchange with a wink and turned to the cafeteria, looking
lost. Eventually she took a left and sat at an empty table. Was she so dazed by the encounter,
she'd forgotten where her usual table was?
Edward, Angela, and I slowly turned to Jasper. It took a double take for him to
notice. "Yes?" he asked obliviously. "Oh, that? I'm feeling bad for her, is all."
"Why?" Edward croaked indignantly.
Jasper rubbed the back of his neck, then leaned in. "She got ousted."
"Ousted?"
"Voted out." At our blank stares, he added, "Of the cool kids."
"The popular kids have a democracy?" This was a loser town.
"Only the upperclassmen. I got the email over the weekend with some the
particulars, asking me to vote." As the school's star baseball player, I probably shouldn't have
been surprised that Jasper was one of them.
"What were the particulars?" I asked, worried (and slightly thrilled) that our names
might have been brought into all of this.
He shrugged. "Apparently she blew up at some of the other junior girls in public.
Can't say that I blame her. They can be a shallow group."
Edward was watching him closely. "Meaning that Alice isn't shallow?"
"Come again?"
"You said they can be a shallow group. Does that include Alice?"
"I wouldn't know." Jasper ran his fingers through his shortened hair. The twitch
didn't escape Edward's notice. "I hardly know anything about her. Or care to know," he
added.
"What did I tell you?" I muttered.

  256  
 Edward only nodded, clearly deep in thought. I followed suit. The question was this:
how could I help Alice now without derailing the entire diabolical plot? While searching for
the answer to one problem, the solution to another popped into my brain like bubblegum.
I slapped my forehead. "I have you on the dog thing!"
"What?" Edward asked.
"You owe me a favor! Redeemable at any time, barring acts of prostitution. Standard
rules apply."
Edward seemed confused until he spotted my ring. He sighed and sat back in his
chair. "And you want to use it on the dog?"
"What else would I want to…" My voice trailed off as the lonely girl came back into
view. Well, this was a conundrum. Exactly how obligated was I to Alice for sticking up for
me at the diner?
"Alice!" I jumped at Edward's holler. She looked up, searching for the source.
Edward waved to her. "Why don't you have a seat with us?"
Her face lit up like Christmas as she scooped up her tray. It should have been a
moment of victory for both of us – we'd just accomplished Stage Three – but it felt hollow.
"I know that was the right thing," I grumbled, "but I hadn't officially made up my
mind, yet."
"It's okay. I did. We can keep the stray." Edward pulled my whole chair closer, with
me in it, and planted a kiss on my forehead. "And as long as nobody claims him, we can
keep Willow, too."

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 Chapter 29: The First Time They Got Drunk

My Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a Girlfriend:

Stage 1. Fanatical Discontinuation – Check

Stage 2. Personality Replacement – Check
Stage 3. Re-Introduction to Society – Check
Stage 4. Trick Jasper Into Falling In Love With Alice – Not Even Close to Check

With only three months left in the school year, it was time for something drastic.
It was time for a party.
Holla.

Alice lived in a typical two-story, four-bedroom Forks dwelling, but to me it was Jay
Gatsby's mansion. In order to limit Jasper's exposure to other eligible girls (and the
likelihood our parents would find out) we had decided on a small, intimate affair, where
every female in attendance was either spoken for or Cynthia (because it was her house, too).
Mrs. Brandon was conveniently spending the weekend in Las Vegas, leaving her sweet,
trustworthy daughters to tend the cats and stoke the fires. Yeah. Right.
The excitement of animated conversation had me skipping from the living room –
buzzing with the Black Eyed Peas and Dance Dance Revolution – into the kitchen, where I
found Edward sitting at the table playing tug-of-war with Willow. Alice hadn't been thrilled
about the addition of our newest pet, but the math was simple. No Willow, no Bella. No
Bella, no Edward. No Edward, no Jasper.
"Hey, what are you doing cooped up in here?" I asked, swatting Edward's knee on
my way over to the oven. "The party is booming out there. Emmett just told the funniest
joke."
"I'm sure he did."
"Check it out. Why did Barty Crouch Jr. stop drinking? It was making him Moody."
Edward didn't laugh. Not even a twitch. Oh, dear – I knew that look. "My darling boyfriend,
what have I done to displease you now?"
"Nothing." There was an antagonism in the word I did not appreciate.
"Spit it out. We both know you'll feel better."
He shot a scathing look to the counter behind me – the one with all the liquor. "You
didn't tell me this was going to be a drinking party."
Edward could be so naïve at times. "What the hell did you think was going to
happen at a coed sleepover you were instructed to lie to your parents about?"
"I thought we were going to Parcheesi." Naïve and adorable. "Where did you get all
of it, anyway?"
"Alice's mom keeps loads of it around the house. It's no biggie."
"It's a huge biggie. Not only is it illegal, it's dangerous. Drinking at our age, when our
brains are still developing, can cause brain damage and long-term impairment." Naïve,
adorable, and dramatic.
"No one is saying you have to drink. It's not a requirement for being at this party."

  258  
 "I'm not worried about my susceptibility to peer pressure. It's you I'm concerned
about. Are you going to partake in this… in this… in this delinquency?"
"Yes," I said. Edward looked for all the world as if he was seeing me for the first
time. "Don't, Edward. Just don't."
"Don't what?"
"Act superior. Act like my father. Act like I'm an idiot. Take your pick. This is an
experience I want to have at least once as a teenager, and I need to unwind after all the work
I've done for MyT-Spot, all the studying for SATs, all the… everything! So get over it."
"Well, you can't do this," Edward sputtered. "It's irresponsible and downright foolish.
You're better than this."
"It's not your job to judge me. It's your job to love me no matter what." He opened
his mouth, but I held up my hand. We'd both regret his retort later. "You know what? I'm
done with this conversation. Stop trying to peer pressure me or leave. End of discussion."
Edward's lips went pencil thin. "Peer pressure?" he repeated through his teeth.
"It goes both ways, buddy. You're trying to influence me to your way of thinking,
depriving me of something I consider to be an important adolescent undertaking. I want to
do this. You can't convince me otherwise."
"You're not thinking rationally. I'm calling Coach to pick us up."
"I would think long and hard before making that phone call." I sounded strict
enough to freeze him mid-stride.
"Is that a threat?"
I took a step forward. "Ask yourself where your loyalties lie. Ask yourself how much
our future depends on me trusting you. Ask yourself how often you want to get laid when
we're married." We glared at each other for several long moments before I added, "I have
stuff to do in here. You storm out."
Edward did what he was told exceptionally, adding a temperamental huff for flair.
"Your father is such a wanker." Willow barked in agreement.
Alice wandered in shortly after, and asked what the hold up was. I pulled the Bagel
Bites out of the freezer and turned the oven on as I gave her a brief explanation that wasn't
at all the truth. We weren't that good of friends, yet… if ever. She stuck around to freshen up
the French Onion Dip with an extra stirring as I placed each Bite strategically on a cooking
sheet
"So, who invited Rosalie?" she eventually asked. I suspected the dip might not have
needed freshening, being what her history was with Rosalie, but I went along with it. I could
use a distraction of my own.
"I invited Emmett because he can always be counted on to make things fun, and
apparently he and Rosalie are back together. I didn't know until they showed up. Is that
okay?"
She shrugged. "It's fine. There was some stupid drama between us freshman year and
now we don't talk. I just hope it's not awkward. It's a big night and I don't want to be off my
game."
"It seemed to be flowing pretty well before I came in here. You're going to be fine as
long as you stick with the plan and stay away from the alcohol. You can barely keep it
together around Jasper when you're sober."
"Really not a problem."
"And Alice?" My serious tone was in place. "I can not emphasize this enough.
Whatever happens tonight, you can not have sex with Jasper."

  259  
 The spatula clanged angrily against the side of her bowl. "I know. You've only told
me a thousand times."
"Because I have this icky feeling that once Jasper has a few, he's going to be all over
you and you're not going to be able to resist. My plot is about long-term happiness. Give in
tonight and you'll get what you want for about fifteen minutes."
"The party's in the kitchen!" Emmett hollered from right behind us. Alice and I
cringed. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. Saw the booze. But, hey, to double check, just
because Alice can't bump uglies tonight, doesn't mean that Rose and I can't, right?"
I smiled for the first time since my altercation with Edward. "Have all the sex you
want, but keep it down. Kapeesh?"
It wasn't long before Rosalie, Angela, Cynthia, Ben, and Jasper were circling the
drink counter with Emmett acting as bartender, pouring their poison of choice. I headed
straight for the Vodka; my mom had always told me it was the easiest to get drunk on.
Seeing as this was my first (and perhaps only as a teen) time, I was going for maximum brain
damage.
Alice went around with an empty coffee canister. "You'll thank me later," she
claimed, as everyone dropped their cell phones into it.
"We need a toast before this party can really get started." Emmett held up his shot –
we all followed suit. "Here's to you and here's to me. The best of friends, we'll always be. But
if we should ever disagree, then fuck you and here's to me!"
Fuck you, Edward, I thought, tipping the liquid into the back of my throat. It was
ghastly. Truly vile. A tremor went all the way up my spine following a string of curse words.
A glance at my fellow partiers revealed I wasn't alone. Angela was blinking furiously.
Ben looked like he'd swallowed a jalapeno. Emmett was grinning at me, cool as a cucumber.
"You just popped your drinking cherry, didn't you?"
What the hell did that mean? "Pour me another, and I'll pop it again."
Rosalie groaned sourly. Apparently I wasn't as clever as I'd hoped. "Virgins," she
muttered. "At least this evening will be filled with amusing prude anecdotes."
This was happening. I was actually getting drunk. Butterflies filled my stomach as
Emmett refilled my shot glass, and then fluttered away as I thought of Edward. I'd gotten so
used to us taking milestone steps together, it felt weird doing this alone. The shot glass was
shoved back into my hand and I tried to let the weirdness go. If there was one thing alcohol
was supposed to be good for, it was loneliness.
How long did it take for this stuff to kick in? My watch read 8:32 P.M.
I'd find out soon enough.

9:07 P.M.
The universe was laughing at me. Sure, a single Tylenol could make me loopy as a
curly straw, but try to intentionally get drunk and nada. So far, I'd had five shots – each one
a punch to the throat. The pain went unrewarded. Emmett had used the term, "Bourke,"
which I wasn't so sure was a compliment.
All of the happy people were spread out between the living room and kitchen, while
Edward sulked somewhere in the house. I wasn't quite as pathetic as him. I, at least, had
Willow to keep me company. The two of us sat on a couch in the family room, watching
Anchorman with the bottle of Vodka propped up next to my feet on the coffee table. I flicked
my watch up. 9:08 P.M. Two minutes to go before I could take my next swig.

  260  
 Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a hot pink, wicker cowboy hat poke out around
the corner. "Go away, Alice. I want to be alone in my bourkieness."
"Howdy there, cowgiiiirl," an unexpected voice said, borrowing Jasper's southern
twang. I shot up. Holy mother of all that was holy… Edward was under the cowboy hat!
My jaw didn't feel capable of closing. "Uhhh…"
With a swing around the corner, not unlike a pole-dancer, Edward plopped down on
the couch and snuggled up to my chest. He did this all while holding a clear bottle, half-filled
with red liquid. "Will you forgive me for earlier?" he asked, petting my cheek with his
unoccupied hand. "Willow doesn't like it when Daddy and Mommy fight."
The bloody hypocrite! "Have you been drinking?"
"Of course not. That would compromise my morals and make me a bad, bad boy."
I took the cowboy hat off his head and put it aside. "Seriously, Edward."
"Seriously, Bella." The accent didn't leave with the hat. "You are so beautiful. The
most beautiful girl I have ever seen. You are beautiful like… like a chrysanthemum. That can
be your new nickname! Swirl and Chrysanthemum. Together forever! I love you so much.
Forgive me and love me too."
"Hey, honey," I said sweetly, taking a different approach. "I'm not mad. What have
you been drinking?"
"Lemonade." The way the word curled off his tongue made it sound like a seduction.
I pointed to the bottle. "Can I try some?" The front wrapper read: Mike's Hard
Lemonade. Cold. Hard. Refreshing. It wasn't anything we'd had in the kitchen, nor did it
taste like any alcohol I'd tried so far (mostly because it tasted good). "Where'd you find this?"
"In a bedroom. In a mini-fridge. There were five. I only had six."
"Come with me." Answers were needed. And now. But when I stood, a wave rolled
over me and pushed me back to the couch.
"Bella? Bella? Are you okay?" Edward asked desperately.
"I'm fine," I said, shaking off the dizzy-spell and getting to my feet with Edward's
assistance. When we arrived at the kitchen, I lifted the bottle and asked the room, "What's
this?"
"That's a Mike's Hard," Alice answered.
"Damn straight it is." Edward swiped the bottle from me and lifted it to his mouth.
After a dreg that polished it off, he exhaled with enthusiasm. "And guess what? It's cold,
hard, and refreshing."
"Why is it making Edward act weird?"
"Because it's alcoholic," Rosalie said like a big, fat duh.
Edward dropped the bottle as though it were a bomb.
"But only like five percent alcoholic," Alice clarified. "It's almost impossible to get
drunk on that."
"It's too late," Edward grasped at his neck. "I can feel the buzz in my head, the
tingling in my limbs. My speech is slurred. My step is stumbled. My brain cells are being
stunted as we speak!"
I was so jealous.
"Nothing to do now but sit back and enjoy the ride," Emmett laughed.
"You," he dragged out the word with a shocking amount of vehemence, "shut your
mouth."
The whole room went quiet and, for the first time since I met him, Emmett's smile
fell.

  261  
 "Excuse me." Edward took a step back. "I must go check on Willow."
Once Edward had cleared the room, Jasper said, "Never thought he'd be a mean
drunk. How many of those did he drink, anyway?"
"Five."
"I suppose that'll do it for a first time drinker."
"Look, Emmett. I'm sorry he snapped at you. He's upset. He very adamantly did not
want to get drunk tonight, or anytime before he hit the legal drinking age."
He waved me off. "Don't worry about it, Bourke. Just go check on him."
"And, whatever you do, do not let him call Coach to confess," Jasper said. "I know
he'll want to, but it'll get him kicked off the baseball team."
"My father would not do that to Edward."
"He won't have a choice. It's school policy."
That was ridiculous, but I didn't want to waste time by arguing further. I picked up
the discarded bottle, with only a slight stumbling mishap, and threw it in the trash, shaking
my head as I did so. They really should make it more obvious on the label this lemonade was
spiked.
Edward was curled up in a ball on the family room couch. He must have really been
out of it, because Willow was giving his hand a tongue-bath and he didn't seem to care.
I shooed Willow to the other side of the room and wondered when my arms had
become so heavy. "What are you thinking?"
"All sorts of things. My head is spinning. But mostly that I'm going to get kicked off
the baseball team, lose my position as Volunteer Sheriff's Deputy, catch alcohol poisoning,
and go to Hell."
"None of those things are going to happen." I sat down next to him and rubbed his
back. "You didn't even mean for this to happen. It was an accident."
"Alcohol poisoning does not recognize good intentions."
"Well, if you're going to die, I'm going with you." My ministrations ceased as I
reached for the Vodka.
That woke Edward up. "What the hell do you think you are doing you?" he asked,
lurching to knock the bottle from my hand.
A sway to the left easily deflected him, but almost made me fall off the couch.
"Getting on your level," I said.
"You can't do that! One of us has to keep a level head during this increasingly dire
saturation."
"And it's automatically me? Why? Because I'm a woman?"
"Because I'm already drunk you… you… you perfect, captivating, ambrosial
creature. I love you so much." Edward's head lulled back. "I think I'm only agreeing to this
because I'm drunk. But you have to promise that you will not try to convince me to have
intercourse."
"Why?" I asked eagerly. "Would it work?"
"I'm not sure, but I've been sporting a semi for the past fifteen minutes and I can't
get Sir Mix-a-Lot out of my head." He slapped a hand over his mouth. "That's the alcohol
talking."
"What's a semi?"
All of Edward's features softened like a melting stick of butter. "You are my
precious," he cooed, stroking my hair. Then he got caught and I had to help him untangle.

  262  
"Bella, promise me we won't have sex, no matter what. If we were drunk the first time we
ever did it, I would hate myself forever."
Because I remembered telling Alice something similar earlier, I crossed my heart.

9:27 P.M.
"I feel something," I said, wiggling my fingers. "A slight tingle in my fingers. I think
it's affecting me."
"BELLA JUST QUOTED A LORD OF THE RINGS DELETED SCENE!"
Edward shouted for the whole house to hear. "She's inebriated!"
I poured another shot. "Getting there."

9:33 P.M.
I giggled. My tongue was numb.

9:35 P.M.
My legs were gone too.

9:46 P.M.
I rolled over on my back and let my hand flop to Willow's fur. His eyes were so
friendly and his crooked underbite was showing, but in a friendly way. "Do you think
Willow's a dog or a person?"
"I think perhaps he's like a pickle," Edward said, reaching across me to scratch
Willow.
Were we on the floor? When had that happened? The carpet was so comfortable. I
didn't want to move.
I shot up. Whoa. Head rush. Tingling Sensation. I am awesome. But there was a
more pressing matter to discuss. "We have to rename Willow."
"Why? I mean, beside the oblivious reason?"
"Because he's s'posed to be fandom neutral," I said emphatically. Edward gave me a
glassy question mark. "And in Harry Potter, there's the Whomping Willow. Duh. How could I
not see this before?"
"But–"
"Shh." I covered Edward's mouth with my hand. "You shall now be known as
Hottie Hot McHotterson."
"Okay," Edward mumbled into my palm.

10:02 P.M.
Edward and I were looking deeply into each other's eyes through the hallway mirror.
"Oh – my – God. Becky, look at her butt. It is so big."
"That is such a degrading song," Edward said, and then shocked the hell out of me
by pulling out a truly spectacular valley girl accent. "But, seriously. She looks like, one of
those rap guys' girlfriends."

  263  
 Everything behind us was spinning but his glorious face was in sharp focus, gray
splotches and everything. "I love you like I like big butts," I said. "Wait a minute. I don't like
big butts. But I cannot lie."
Angela stuck her head out of the living room, singing along to Nelly. "I was like,
good gracious – ass bodacious. Flirtatious, tryin' to show faces..." Then she vanished. Like a
candle in the wind.
"All my parts, from my head to my nose are dead. Wait. I went from my nose to my
toes. Wait. That was a rhyme. I am drunk. And I am…" Edward paused, distorting his face
in the mirror so his teeth were showing. When he spoke again, his accent was now Dracula's.
"I am a vampyre."
Giggling was my third cousin. "You are so drunk."
"You are so drunk."
"Where's Pickle?"
"Who's Pickle?"
"Willow is Pickle."
"Willow!" Edward hollered.
Pickle came trotting out with Alice. "What's going on?" she asked.
"We're going for a walk," I announced.
"I don't think that's the best idea," Alice said.
"Willow needs to be pottied."
"Wait, Bella," Edward said, grabbing my arm. "We can't go for a walk–"
"Thank you," Alice said.
"–without our jackets."
"You are so right! This is why I love you."
"No, I love you."
"Neither of you are fit to go for a walk. Bella, look at you! Your shoes are on the
wrong feet."
I looked down. When had my shoes gone onto my feet? "Do not worry about us.
You stay here and keep teasing Jasper into a tizzy. How's it goin'?"
"All right, I guess. It'd probably be better if my wing-girl wasn't railroaded."
"I can help! Jasper's my second best friend. You are my first." Edward bopped me
on the nose. Or, at least, I think he did. My nose was numb. So were my teeth. "Because of
this and because I'm apparently drunk and because I'm going for a walk and because you
clearly need it, I'm to give you some advice."
"Me?" I asked.
"No, not you," Edward scoffed. "Unless you want to break my heart and make me
die."
"I would never do that. I love you."
"No, I love you."
"No, I love you."
Alice clapped in front of Edward's face. "Focus. Advice, drunken or not, is most
appreciated."
"Right," Edward snapped to attention. "There is one part of a woman Jasper can't
resist." A mischievous grin came over his face and he poked me in the tummy. I giggled. Of
course.
"Well, what is it?" Alice asked impatiently. Why was she still here?
"I just told you. The belly button."

  264  
 "Do you like my belly button?" I asked.
"I love your belly button. I want to pour chocolate on it and blow raspberries."
Edward should be drunk all the time.

10:11 P.M.
Alice's backyard opened into the forest, which was awesome because we could sing
as loud as we wanted.
"I like big butts and I cannot lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty-bitty waist
And a round thing in your face you get sprung!"

10:13 P.M.
"Would you still love me if I had webbed feet?"
"I'd still love you if you were a frog with three heads."
"It's not easy being green."
"Pickles are green."
Walking was an adventure – like being in a constant state of falling backwards and
forwards. All was well because I had Edward to hold onto, the full moon to light our path,
and Willow to guide us. We came to an abrupt halt when he finally sniffed out a place to take
a dump. And boy, did he dump.
"Holy crap!" I squealed.

10:17 P.M.
"You know what I find amazing? Potato peelers."

10:32 P.M.
Willow was all peed and pooped out. Now we stumbled just for the fun of it. This
was the funnest night of my whole life and it was only about to get funner. There were
plenty of trees to cover.
The most important question popped into my head and Edward had to answer
because he was drunk. "Is there anything that annoys you about me?"
"You know what I find amazing? Paper towels."
"Edward! You have to be honest. It's the rules."
"Okay. You have this one, teensy, tiny, itsy, bitsy habit that drives me crazy. You're a
pen-chewer. But very pretty."
"What about chewing a pen is annoying?"
"I don't think you want to know that."
"I do. I do. I do believe in fairies."
"Okay, but don't ever tell me I did not warn you."
"I do. I do. I do believe in fairies."

  265  
 "When you put things in your mouth, I can't help but think of something very dirty.
And sexy. But you don't just chew your pens. You chomp them. So when you chew your
pens it's kind of like you're chomping on my pen-is."
That was disturbing. Or incredibly sexy. Probably sexy.
"Get my joke? Because the word 'pens' is one letter off from being spelt penis. So I
said pen-is instead of penis. Wow. I'm clever."

10:39 P.M.
"My anaconda don't want none unless you got some, hun."
"I thought it was, 'My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun."
"Trust me, Chysanthiton. I went through a rebellious phase when I was ten and
listened to this song on repeat for three weeks straight. My anaconda don't want none if you got
some, hun."

10:45 P.M.
"Do you like Emmett?"
"Of course I like Emmett. He's my friend."
"But do you like Emmett? Like you like me?"
I gripped his hand tighter as one foot went in front of the other. "I don't like anyone
like I like you."
"But you're always so friendly with him."
"That's because we're friends."
"But he's cool and a jock and loves Harry Potter. He's everything I'm not."
"That's exactly why you don't have to worry about him. He's totally not my type."
"But things seem to be fizzling out between us. You don't hit on me nearly as much
as you used to."
"That's because of Emmett."
"I know! That's what I'm saying!"
"No, you don't know. You've got it completely wrong. During Sex-Ed–"
"Do not mention that class to me."
"Emmett told me how hard it was for boys not to have sex. Like, it's harder for boys
than it is for girls because of their pen-is. And, like, I kind of forgot that your body was
yours and not mine."
"But I am yours. Body. Heart. And something else."
"Like, you're not my sex slave. Can I be honest with you about something?" Alcohol
was like veritaserum. "You are really hot. Sometimes I look at you and I'm just like... he is
really hot. He is so, so, so, so, so hot. How did I get so lucky?"
"That's uncanny! I think the same thing when I look at you. Except my thoughts are
way more disgusting."
"What do you mean?"
"I think about sex, Bella. You have no idea how much I think about sex." I was
beginning to get that. Edward wasn't a mean drunk. He was a horny drunk. "I must think
about having sex with you a million, trillion times a day."
"Do you think Willow knows where we're going?"

  266  
 10:51 P.M.
We were sitting on the mossy forest floor, facing each other. Very serious. He spoke
as if in a trance. "I carry you across the threshold of our honeymoon suite. You look beyond
gorgeous wearing earned white. I take my time undressing you and when your dress falls
away, I can't breath. You stand completely still and let me drink in your perfection. My eyes
slowly rake your nude form, taking in the porcelain of your skin, the curvature of your
breast."
My cheeks grew warm under his gaze. It felt like he was undressing me now.
"Then it's your turn to do the same to me and after you're done satiating your
curiosity of the male body, I lay you gently on the bed and make the most passionate love to
you that's ever been made between a man and a woman. Or a man and a man. Or a woman
and woman. Or any combination of men and women. What do you think?"
Some things couldn't be denied. "I… I have to pee." My bladder felt like it was going
to rupture.
"Oh, Bella!" Edward smiled the biggest smile I'd ever seen him smile. "You couldn't
have said anything more perfect. I've had to pee for the last thirty hours!"
"But what do we do? We're in the middle of the forest."
"We're going to have to pee in the bushes. You take that big one over there. I
promise I won't look if you don't." That seemed like a reasonable plan except for one
problem.
"But you don't understand. Women have to wipe or it's disgusting."
"Fear not, m'lady." Edward reached into his large jacket pocket and came out with
two items: a packet of tissues and a small bottle of hand sanitizer.
Tears sprung into my eyes. "I love how wonderfully weird you are."

11:08 P.M.
"So, fellas!" Edward shouted.
I was in beat. "Yeah!"
"Fellas!"
"Yeah!"
"Has your girlfriend got the butt?"
"Hell yeah!"
"Tell 'em to shake it!"
"Shake it!"
"Shake it!"
"Shake it!"
"Shake that healthy butt! Baby got back!"
"Edward?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you really like big butts?"
"I'm more of a boobie-guy, myself." That was too bad. I didn't have much of either.
"Your boobs are perfect. Not too little. Not too much. I dream about fondling them all the
time."
"Edward?"
"Yeah?"
"I have to pee again."

  267  
 11:14 P.M.
I was pinned up against a tree having the sexiest and most uninhibited make-out
session of my life. Edward kept making these incredible grunting noises that were sending
me into overdrive. And wait. Was that his hand on my boob? Yes. Yes, it certainly was. I
loved alcohol.
Edward abruptly pulled back. "I hear something."
"It's just Willow." I licked his neck, then nipped at it. "Keep kissing me."
"No, Bella, look."
I groaned and turned to where he was pointing. Faintish blue and red lights were
bouncing off the trees. How peculiar. "What is that?"
"I think it's your father."
Laughter burst out of me like fireworks. "What would ever give you that ridiculous
idea?"
"Shh! He'll hear us!"
"Stop being so paranoid!"
Edward took my hand and led Willow and me a few trees down, making sure to stay
hidden behind the thick forest brush. "See?"
I did see. Apparently we weren't as in the middle of nowhere as we'd thought. Just
past the bushes was a street. And along that street were houses. And parked at one of those
houses was a police cruiser. And next to that cruiser was a man. And that man was Police
Chief Charlie Swan.
The term "buzz-kill" suddenly became so much more meaningful.
"He's found us!" I shrieked.
"No, he hasn't."
"He's here to arrest us and kill you."
"No, he isn't."
"We have to get out of here."
That was one thing we could agree on.

11:32 P.M.
"We're lost."
"We are not lost. We're at the corner of Constitution and Mesa. We just don't know
where that is."
"Bella, we are lost." But, more importantly, we were nowhere near Charlie. "We need
to call someone who can find us and pick us up."
"And how do you suggest we do that? We gave our phones to Alice before we began
drinking."
Edward reached into one of his many pockets and shook his cell in front of my face.
"We didn't all give our phones to Alice."
"Great. You have a phone," I said sarcastically. "Who do you suggest we call? All our
friends are plastered and don't even suggest calling our parents. I'd rather be burned alive."
"That won't be necessary. There is one person we can call."
"Who?"

  268  
 12:13 A.M.
The numbness had begun to wear off, and for the first time that night, the chilled
April air touched me. I huddled between Edward and Willow to keep from shivering. The
alcohol was still working its magic, but it felt like at least part of my brain had returned. That
part of my brain was trying to tune Edward out. He'd been babbling on and on and on about
what a disappointment he was for the past thirty minutes. It was a total bummer.
The front window of a pink Subaru rolled down. "Hey, kiddos."
"Hey, Grandma," Edward and I said in unison.
"My, my, my. This is a sight for sore eyes." What was she seeing? We were just two
teens and a dog, sitting on the side of the road. I started to get up, but plopped back down
when she said, "Don't be hasty. Give an old woman time to take this in."
"I'm sorry we called you so late," Edward said, sitting still as a rock. I could tell he
was trying to act sober.
"Are you kidding? I've been waiting years for my role as the cool grandma to pay off,
but you've always been an obstinately well-behaved child. To witness my grandson's first
intoxication is like the holy grail of granny humor. All right. I have absorbed the moment.
Climb in."
Edward darted for the back seat, Willow following him. Both the men in my life
were cowards. If Edward were as chivalrous as he'd like to believe, he wouldn't leave me up
front with Mrs. Evans. "Where am I taking you?" she asked when I was settled next to her.
"Back to Alice's, I guess."
"And where does Alice live?"
She laughed when I told her the address.
"What's funny?"
"You'll see," she said.
We drove in silence for about thirty seconds, before I couldn't take it anymore. "Can
I tell you something?"
"I'd be delighted."
"You are the best grandma in the history of all the grandmas."
"I know, dear." The car pulled into a driveway just around the corner from where
we'd been.
"We're here already? We could have walked!"
"And I'm so glad you didn't. This was a far more amusing way to end my evening."
She was seriously the coolest adult ever. Charlie wouldn't have been amused at all,
but I guessed that was the cool thing about being a grandma and not a... ma. All of the fun.
None of the responsibility. I wanted to be a grandma. "You're so awesome."
Her face lit with a grin. "Thank you, Bella. That's what I strive for. And, hey, you
back there," she said, addressing Edward. "Stop castrating yourself. You're young. It's not
the end of the world. Just don't make a habit of it, okay?"
Edward nodded solemnly, but didn't otherwise respond. Why did he feel guilty? He
didn't even mean to get drunk. I certainly did, and I didn't feel an ounce of guilt. Should I
feel guilty? Was I morally defunct?
"Do me one favor," Mrs. Evans broke into my non-existent guilt-fest. "Drink at least
two full glasses of water each before going to bed."
"Anything for you," Edward said, opening the door to let Willow out. "I can't tell
you how much I appreciate what you've done for us tonight. I shall forever be in your debt."

  269  
 "Don't be ridiculous. That's what grandmas are for." I kind of doubted that, but I
didn't argue. She was awesome. "I love you kids. Have fun, but no more late night walks."
"I promise," Edward vowed. "Love you, Grandma."
"One more pearl of wisdom before you leave: Parents don't always want to know.
Do with that what you will."

Sunshine spilled through a tiny window, tickling my eyes open. To the left I could
see a stack of towels. To the right, a toilet. The bathroom was an uncommonly comfortable
place to sleep when blankets stripped from a guest bed were your mattress, Willow was your
comforter, and Edward your pillow. The latter was gently stroking my hair, this time tangle
free, to let me know he, too, was awake.
"What time is it?" I grumbled.
"You tell me."
I lifted my left wrist. My watch was nowhere to be found, but a circle had been
drawn around the base of my ring finger. It was smudged and faded, but still very visible.
"What's this?"
"You don't remember?"
"Not yet."
"I have one too." Edward stuck his hand in front of my face. "We did them last
night when I was still freaking out about whether I wanted to tell my parents about our
shenanigans. We drew them on each other's hands and had Angela marry us so–"
"So we had spousal privilege and you were legally obligated not to rat me out." It all
came flooding back. "Idiots," I couldn't help but mutter.
Edward stomach vibrated with the sound of his chuckle. "Your enthusiasm thrills
me."
"I'm sorry." My forehead was throbbing, but not from the alcohol. "I meant the
whole night. The walk in the woods, calling your grandma, the very long and unnecessary
discussion about what we want our pubic hair to look like on our wedding night. And, worst
of all, throwing up in front of each other. Some things cannot be unseen."
"Don't worry. It was hardly legal, considering Angela is a preacher's daughter, not a
preacher. And we didn't consummate the union. Thank God. That would have been tragic."
"Your enthusiasm thrills me."
"Would you really want our first time to forever be accompanied with the memory
of me vomiting three times afterward?"
"I'm sure we'll see much worse when we're actually…" I trailed off, finding myself
unable to finish my thought. The blue ring suddenly vexed me.
Edward didn't notice my distraction. "You'll have to settle for last night being
synonymous with second base."
"I hardly think feeling my boob over two layers of clothes and a padded bra counts
as getting to second base. More like a base and a half."
"Technicalities. How are you feeling?"
"I feel fine. After I threw up, everything seemed to settle."
"Really? I feel awful. My head is killing me."
"Maybe you need a shower and some aspirin." I sat up and pulled a bottle of Tylenol
from my backpack. "I'm going to take Willow out. Meet you downstairs?"
"Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au', amin vessë," he said, with a kiss on my forehead.

  270  
 "I'm not feeling that well."
He smiled and rubbed my ring finger. "My heart shall weep until it sees thee again,
my wife."
Yep. Definitely not that well.
The blue ring felt as heavy as the gray boulder I was sitting on in Alice's backyard. It
was taking all my willpower not to scrub it off, an action that would devastate Edward. And
for good reason. Why would I want to scrub away my future?
My destiny had been decided the day I walked into that eighth grade yearbook class.
It was a given that Edward and I were going to get married and spend the rest of our lives
together, even my Dad had accepted it. For the first time in our three and a half years,
something about the prospect didn't sit right. How could I feel like the luckiest woman in
the world and cheated at the same time?
Did I not want to be with Edward? I allowed myself to honestly answer that
question by imagining myself with someone else, someone like Emmett. My stomach rolled
and I dropped from the boulder to dry heave in the bushes. It all came to a resounding and
vocal, "No." There was no version of my life where I wasn't with Edward. He was air to me.
So why was I wigging? I decided no answer was better than the one I felt brewing in
the back of my brain. I called Willow and headed back inside.
Everyone was congregated around the dining room table, with one noticeable
exception. "Where's Alice?" I asked, taking my seat in Edward's lap. Across from us, Jasper
didn't appear to be overly happy, which boded well for my Diabolical Plot. Maybe Alice was
able to keep it in her pants. I just hoped we'd made progress in other, less biblical ways.
"Who cares?" Cynthia responded. "The only thing that matters is that I am never
drinking again."
"Here, here," Emmett said, tipping a glass of water in her direction.
"You say that after every party," Rosalie said. Her hair was piled high on top of her
head and she was wearing sunglasses.
"And I always mean it."
"Does everyone feel bad?" I asked.
"I feel like someone stuffed their hands down my throat and pulled out my insides,"
Angela said to a chorus of agreement. "You don't?"
"I feel fine."
"Edward, you are dating a mythical creature," Emmett said. "The girl can hold her
liquor and fight off a hangover. I've heard of such beings, but never seen one for myself."
I held my breath, hoping our midnight excursion had cured Edward of his irrational
jealousy.
"Well, it may take her twenty shots to get anywhere, but once she's there, she's
gone," he replied in his usual amiable tone. Relief swept through me. "As a matter of fact, I
have something that might brighten everyone's morning."
Edward pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "Let's play of game of Kids
Write the Darndest Things."
"What's that?" Jasper asked as Edward unfolded it.
"Yeah, what is that?" I repeated.
"Dear Buffy," Edward read.
Blood rushed to my cheeks. Oh, God, no.

  271  
 "You know in Episode 5, Season 4 when you get drunk in Beer Bad? You get turned
into a cavewoman. Well, if you drink Mike's Hard Lemonade you don't get drunk or turned
into a caveman and it tastes a lot better than beer. Trust me. I have tried them both."
The entire table was either tittering into their hands or outright bursting with
laughter. Emmett found it so hysterical, he was slapping the table. I buried my face in
Edward's sweatshirt.
"You are the best, like my best friend Angela," he continued. "I love you. Signed,
Bella Swan-Cullen. P.S. You are cool, like my friend Alice."
"I appreciate that, Bella," Alice said. Everyone looked to the entryway. "I am cool
and now Buffy knows it."
Okay, even I had to admit the girl knew how to make an entrance. Every hair was in
place, her make-up was simple but fierce, she was rocking a black midriff, and, best of all,
she was holding three bags stuffed to the brim with McDonalds.
"Hangover food!" Emmett said, pumping a fist in the air. "You are the best hostess
ever."
Alice smiled, placing the bags in the middle of the table. "I live to please."
Only one other compliment stood out in the swarm of flattery and praise and burger
wrappers. "Damn, Alice. I love you so much right now," Jasper said, ripping into a Quarter
Pounder.
I almost fell off Edward's lap. Alice was quite winded. Those of us in on the
Diabolical Plot shared a triumphant smirk and a mental high-five. Letters to Buffy aside, this
party had been totally worth it.

"You look horrible, Dad. Did you just wake up?"

It was around one in the afternoon, but Charlie was headed straight for the coffee
pot. "Miserable night. Was called out of a dead sleep to break up a party at Newton's house.
They were making all sorts of ruckus. The morons." So that's what he'd been up to last
night. I shuddered, recalling the blue and red lights flashing along the trees. "Long story
short, caught about a quarter of the baseball team, along with several other miscreants,
tanked, and now I'm going to have to cut all those players as per the school's zero tolerance
policy."
"That's insane!" I couldn't believe that was a serious rule. Were kids not allowed to
be kids anymore? "What are you going to do?"
"It'll be alright. They all sucked anyway." Charlie snapped the coffee filter in place
with a resentful dig and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. He seemed to be
considering my appearance. I didn't feel hungover, but maybe I looked it.
"Danish with your coffee?" I asked perkily.
"You know, Bella, I don't give you enough credit for being a good kid. Watching
those parents picking up their drunk kids… let's just say, it's nice to know I have a
responsible daughter that I don't have to worry about when she spends the night outside the
house."
And that's when it hit me: the guilt.
Oh, how it burned like a boiling puss bubble... like a urinary tract infection…. like an
inflamed, festering cold sore.
"Don't worry. I'm never going to drink." Again, I tacked on silently. Shamefaced or
not, there were some things parents didn't need to know.

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 Chapter 30: The First Time She Outsmarted Him

"Because King Philip's desire to make Spain the dominant power in sixteenth-
century Europe ran counter to Queen Elizabeth's insistence on autonomy for England,"
Angela read from the SAT study guide, "A: reconciliation was assured, B: warfare was
avoidable, C: ruination was impossible, D: conflict was inevitable, or E: diplomacy was
simple."
I pursed my lips to the side, mulling over the answer.
"More importantly," Emmett said, "how did Queen Elizabeth's insistence on
autonomy affect the construction of Hogwarts and its four-house system?"
"It wouldn't have affected Hogwarts' construction at all," I said, "considering it was
built five-hundred years before Queen Elizabeth's reign."
"Pish, posh," Emmett said. "Source?"
"Professor Flitwick. Chamber of Secrets. Chapter nine."
"You've read those books far too many times for someone so normal."
"A better question would be do you think the sixth novel will delve further into the
founders and their objectives?"
"You still haven't answered the SAT question," Angela reminded me.
"Right," I said. "I'm going with D: conflict was inevitable."
"And you would be correct. See, Bella? You're going to do brilliantly."
She was humoring me. My future rested on an impossible score on a test that was
only two days away. With Edward's transcript, he would pretty much be guaranteed a spot at
the Ivy League college of his choice with a score of 2100 or above – a piece of cake for
someone like him. I needed a bit more cushion, a near perfect 2400 or as close as I was
capable – a piece of Coeur à la Crème with raspberry marnier sauce for someone like me.
"What do you think the title refers to?" asked Emmett. "Who is the Half-Blood
Prince?"
"Maybe the Half-Blood Prince is Harry?" Angela suggested.
"I don't think so," I said. "Otherwise the title is essentially Harry Potter and Harry
Potter. I'm thinking a new character."
"Or maybe she writes Prince William in as a half-blood."
"My money's on Hagrid," Emmett said. "He's a half-blood giant. Who's to say his
mother or father wasn't royal?"
"I have a question about Hagrid," Angela said. "We know his mother was a giantess
and his father was a human. Does anyone else ever wonder the technicalities of how Hagrid
was conceived?"
"Angela, you are such a perv," I scoffed. A long pause followed before I admitted,
"But, yes, the thought has crossed my mind."
Emmett held up his hand. "Ditto."
"It's disturbing, right?" Angela said.
"Maybe. But say Rose was a giant and still hot, I'd bang that at least once to see what
it was like."
"Now, that is a visual I never wanted or needed."

  273  
 With a hasty flip of the SAT study guide page and a slight wrinkle to her nose,
Angela changed the subject. "A discerning publishing agent can A: supplant, B: dramatize, C:
finagle, D: –"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Emmett interrupted. "As secretary, I feel the need to bring
something to the attention of the book club administration."
I should have known this was coming. Given that the three of us were the only ones
who bothered to show up to Book Club these days (I had released Edward from boyfriend
duty when baseball season started), it hadn't seemed unreasonable to suggest mixing it with
some cramming. Otherwise, I was definitely going to F-A-I-L my S-A-T.
"By all means," Angela said.
"You both know that I love Book Club and hanging out with my two favorite
Potterphiles," Emmett said. "But what have we become? Our membership has dwindled to
zilch. We have Bella reciting times tables for the SATs, and we ran out of Harry Potter
discussion material almost two months ago. I hesitate to use the word lame, but, well, if the
sorting hat fits."
"Emmett's right," I said, slumping back dejectedly. "We are lame. I'm sorry."
Angela nudged the study guide to the side. "It's not your fault. I'm the president. I
take full responsibility."
"We've all sucked," Emmett said. "But I have a vision to rectify that. A vision of this
library transformed into the dopest end-of-year blowout yet to be seen by this school. I see
food. I see lights. I see accoutrements. I see costumes. And I see people. Lots and lots of
people. We have two months. We can do this!"
"I appreciate your enthusiasm," Angela said, not nearly matching it. "But you forget
one thing. The last time we tried to make Book Club a success, we failed miserably."
"Last time, you didn't have yours truly." Emmett pounded his chest, wearing a big,
cheesy grin. "And when I say that, know that I'm not being cocky. I'm being honest."
That was true. Emmett was popular. With his help, the Book Club could put on a
spectacular, reaching social circles Angela and I could never hope to penetrate. The footprint
we had wanted to stomp on this school with Book Club seemed once again possible as
Emmett pulled out his secretarial Harry Potter notebook, our enthusiasm sweeping us up in a
haze of party planning. The SAT guide lay completely forgotten on the far edge of the table,
save for the never-ending string of vocabulary gyrating in my head.

An envelope fluttered down to my lap. "Got something in the mail," Charlie said
from above. With the SATs completed, the new MyT-Spot launched and spectacular, and
only three weeks left in school, I was doing something I hadn't my entire Junior year: lying
on my couch, watching TV.
"Thanks." I lazily grabbed for it and flipped the envelope over to see it was from
College Board SAT, then shot to a sitting pose so quickly my face flushed. Oh, my God. It was
here.
The moment of truth.
"Whatcha got there?" Charlie asked.
It was taking all my might not to scream. "My future," I gulped.
"Well, are you going to sit there and stare at it or open it?"
"I don't know if I can."
Charlie held out a hand. "Then give it here."

  274  
 "No, no, no. Just give me a moment," I said, clutching the letter to my heart. "I need
to process."
He snorted and retreated to the kitchen table, which was all of four feet from the
couch. It at least gave me enough space to brace the magnitude of this moment. The
contents of this letter had the power to either elevate Edward and me to the Ivy League or
doom us to community college. He's going to be happy no matter where we go as long as we're together,
I reminded myself. But you know how badly he wants Ivy League, so you better not have fucked this up.
"Dear God," I murmured, "I know I don't pray to you very often and I don't go to
church and I want to have sex with Edward before we're married, but I would really, really
appreciate it if I opened this envelope and it contained good news. I was aiming for a 2300,
but I'll settle for a 2200. Hell, I'll settle for a 2100 if it gets me waitlisted for whichever
school Edward wants to go to. Please, just remember that I've been an exceedingly good girl
my entire life. I want this so badly. Please, please work your magic... unless you do actually
frown upon that, like all those people who burn Harry Potter say. Amen."
I was as ready as I was ever going to be. My finger quaked as it slid under the
envelope's flap. My heart pounded as the papers eased from the sleeve. My toes curled as the
letter unfolded. And bam! Not one, but three individual numbers popped out at me.
Critical Reading – 780
Math – 790
Writing – 740
The numbers blurred together as I tried to tabulate them in my head. Was this our
final challenge? WHY WOULDN'T THE IDIOTS PUT THE FINAL SCORE IN BIG,
BOLD LETTERS ACROSS THE TOP?
I dug my phone out of my pocket, flipped it open, and found the calculator tool. My
fingers fumbled across the numbers, forcing me to backspace multiple times. Finally, I got
them all in accurately and pressed enter.
No. That couldn't be right. I cleared the calculator and tried again. And again. And
again. And no matter how many times I entered the numbers or switched up their order, the
calculator always came back with the same answer: 2310.
I had done it.
I was smart.
I was a bloody genius.
I was… so not.
Or was I?
These couldn't be my test results.
Unless they were.
The phone almost fell out of my hand when Edward's name replaced my SAT tally,
my ringtone blaring, "With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride. You're toxic. I'm slipping under…"
I pressed the phone to my chest to hush Britney and to calm myself. Oh, my God.
This was happening. I had scored a 2310 and I could tell Edward that all of our dreams were
about to come true. Up until this moment, I had never actually thought it possible. I had
never allowed myself to imagine a victorious phone call, because it had seemed so
farfetched.
"I'm addicted to you. Don't you know that you're toxic?"
How did someone with a 2310 SAT score answer the phone? I pushed the answer
button. "What's up?" I squeaked.

  275  
 A burst of sound gushed over the line. I yanked it away from my head, but the
cheers and music and Willow-barks and whatever else was going on in the background were
still loud and unclear.
"Hello? Edward? Are you there?"
"Bella? Bella, can you hear me?"
"Yes. Kind of. What is that?"
"My parents and Willow. My SAT scores came. They're very excited."
"Are they singing?"
"If you can believe it, yes. ‘We Are the Champions.’ Dad's jumping around on the couch,
strumming an air-guitar. It's quite unsettling."
Carlisle was playing air-guitar? Edward must have done astonishingly, but that was
hardly a surprise. "What was your score?"
"I got a 2270."
"Can you repeat that? Your parents are really loud."
"Sure. 2270."
"Wait. One more time."
"2-2-7-0."
My phone slapped shut without permission. That's when the actual hyperventilation
set in. 2270 was an amazing score that wasn't better than 2310.
I had outsmarted Edward on an academic level.
To say this was unprecedented would be the understatement of the century. Edward
was the naturally gifted one who did his homework right when he got home from school
and sailed through straight A's. I merely rode his coattails. My 2310 felt even more
undeserved, and if I felt that way, how could he possibly feel different?
"With a taste of your lips I'm on a ride…"
The urge to chuck the phone across the room teased me. I knew I had to take this
call, but I didn't know what to say. What would this mean for us if I told him the truth? We
both had our strengths and our weaknesses, but he'd always been the smart one in our
relationship, the Sherlock to my Watson. Did this change that?
As if by compulsion, I answered the phone. "Hello?"
"Hey. Sorry about that. The call must have dropped. I've moved to the dining room so you can hear
me. I said my score was a 2270."
"Edward, that's amazing!" I said, mustering all the enthusiasm I could find. "Really.
Incredible. Congratulations!"
"Thanks, but more importantly, how did you fair?"
"I, um, haven't gotten my results yet." My eyes squinted into a wince. I hated lying,
but I needed more time.
"Has Coach already checked the mail today?"
"Yeah, he just brought it in. Nothing for me. I'll let you know when it comes." It felt
like grave digging as I said it, but I couldn't seem to stop.
"It can't be far behind. I'm sure you did great."
"We'll see," I trilled. "In the meantime you better get started on those college
applications."
"Not until we find out your scores. Hold on one second." It sounded like the mouthpiece of
Edward's phone rubbed against his shirt as he shared a few words with someone in the
distance. I couldn't hear the wording, but it sounded like a disagreement. "Hey, Bella?"
"Yep. I'm here."

  276  
 "I told her this is premature because we don't have your scores yet, but my mom is insisting on
having a celebratory dinner. She wants to know if you and Coach can come over in about an hour."
I pretended like I hadn't opened my envelope, like my 2310 didn't cast a shadow
over his moment, and said, "Absolutely, we should celebrate. Edward, that score is amazing.
I'm unbelievably happy for you. I love you so much."
"I love you, too. See you soon."
"See you soon. Bye," I said, before ending the call.
"Did that bad, eh?" Charlie asked from the kitchen table.
"Hmm?" With that phone call over, I let a daze fog my brain. I didn't want to think.
I wanted to veg.
"Must have done pretty bad for you to lie."
I held the results out over the couch. "See for yourself."
"What am I looking at here?" he asked, shuffling through the pages.
"It doesn't matter. I got a 2310."
"And what does that mean?"
"To put it in perspective, Edward got a 2270."
I could see Charlie doing the calculations. He looked bewildered and a second later I
found out why. "Is it reverse scoring? The lower the score, the smarter you are?"
His confidence in my abilities was underwhelming. "No, Dad. 2400 is a perfect
score. The average student gets around a 1500. Edward got a 2270. I got a 2310."
Again, with the calculations. I couldn't blame him. Charlie wasn't a stupid man; he
just found my genius as mind-boggling as I did. "So, you… you did quite well for yourself?"
Was that a lip tremble?
"That's one way to put it, I guess."
Charlie ducked his head and coughed into his shoulder. It was some time before he
spoke again. "Well, look at that. My daughter the brainiac. Who'd have thunk it?"
"It was nothing," I said, picking at a non-existent loose thread on my jeans. "I just
studied a lot."
"Whatever you did, I'm proud of you, Bells." His simple, heartfelt compliment meant
more to me than if he'd jumped on a thousand couches. "S'pose this is cause for celebration.
Why don't we call the Cullens and head over to the diner?"
"Really wish we could, but the Cullens invited us over to celebrate Edward's score
and I told them we'd go."
"But you beat him, so we should get celebratory dibs."
"Dad, I lied, remember? As far as anyone outside of this room is concerned, I don't
have my scores yet. We can celebrate later. And, anyway, it's not a competition."
"Then why didn't you tell him?"
How exactly could I explain the complexities of our relationship without making us
sound silly? "Because being smart is his thing."
"I thought being artistic was his thing."
"Everything is his thing."
"Then what's your thing?"
"I'm a girl. I don't need a thing."
"I'm sure some girls have things."
"Oh, my God! This is too much!" I buried my head in my knees. Why was life so
complicated? Why did I have to be so damn smart? Why was Willow over at Edward's when

  277  
I wanted to be cuddled? "Just promise me you won't tell him anything until I figure out how
to fix this situation."
"What can you really do? There's nothing to fix."
"I can, I don't know, retake the test and do worse."
"You're being ridiculous for someone so smart."
"I swear, Dad. You can't tell. Promise."
"Let me get this straight. You want me to go over to the Cullens and pretend like I
don't know that my daughter is the smarty-pants in the family."
"Exactly. Act like I'm the moron you used to think I was."
Charlie stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "I don't like keeping things from
Edward."
"Whose father are you?" I shrieked.
"Okay, okay! You win," he grumbled, throwing his hands up in the air and heading
towards the stairs. "Just stop PMSing."

Alice had achieved four out of the six stages of My Diabolical Plot to Get Jasper a
Girlfriend, and the fifth was about three minutes away from getting the good, ol' check
mark. In the time since the drinking party, Alice had flirted her way into a solid repartee with
Jasper and, if Edward's intel was to be believed, she had started giving him the tingles in
return.
Stage 5: Pretend He Doesn't Exist had launched around the time my SAT results
arrived. This had absolutely nothing to do with my ongoing dilemma and subsequent
shirking of anything SAT-related. Nope. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was days
past the reasonable allotment of time for my results to show up and I was still pretending
they were nowhere to be found. Most especially, it had nothing to do with providing a valid
excuse to skip lunches and hang out with Alice all day, every day after school (to keep her
away from Jasper, not me away from Edward).
It was simply time for Stage 5 to begin. As I had once told Alice, "Nothing drives a
man crazy like a girl who was into him, who isn't into him anymore, whom he now wants to
be into him." If today's Spartans baseball game was any indication, I was absolutely right.
"Strike one!" the umpire called. It was a term the Spartans as a whole were used to,
but not superstar Jasper. He'd been up to bat four times and four times he had glanced at
Alice, saw her ignoring him, and struck out. It seemed Jasper couldn't hit a ball without his
biggest fan cheering him on. I wasn't surprised. The Diabolical Plot was hatched by someone
in the 99+ percentile, after all.
For her part, Alice was freaking out, the combination of guilt and excitement making
her unbearably hyper. It was a good thing Jasper couldn't read the back of her head, or it
would have spelled out the words, "I'm a total spaz. Marry me?" She was feeling guilty
enough for the both of us, so I sat back and made sure my Diabolical Plot continued to run
smoothly. The Spartans were going to lose anyway, like they had every other game this
season. Shockingly (not), replacing half the team mid-season after the party debacle hadn't
worked out quite as well as Charlie had hoped.
"Damn, he's got that look on his face," I said, observing Jasper at home plate over
Alice's shoulder. "He's psyching himself up. We need something distracting and quick."
Emmett was standing a few seats away from us, talking up a group of seniors with a stack of
flyers in hand. He'd have to do.

  278  
 "Hey, Emmett!" I said. "Can I ask you a quick question?"
"Sure, Boss. Be there in a sec." A green hat with a red feather sticking up bobbed
along with him – Peter Pan's hat. He was rocking it as part of our promotion for Book
Club's year-end blowout. Our theme was Let-Your-Geek-Flag-Fly, a costume party where
everyone dressed up as their favorite book characters.
"Before I ask you my question, can you stand just a little more to the right? I can't
see Edward in the dugout with you standing there." Emmett shifted directly between Jasper
and Alice. I was on fire today! "How's the publicity going?"
I didn't need to ask this question to know the answer. Emmett had a way of making
something uncool seem cool, so the cool kids would think they were uncool if they didn't
think it was cool, and now the whole school was buzzing about the party. He was a freaking
advertising gem.
"Outstanding. The hat's an attention grabber. Half the girls here want to come just to
see me don the whole costume, tights and all," Emmett said, gesturing down to his lower
half. I couldn't have planned it better.
"Strike two!"
"Thanks for the update. Just wanted to check in. Back to it!"
Emmett saluted. "Whatever you say, Boss."
One more strike to go and the eighth inning would be finished, as would Stage 5.
"You have to distract me," Alice said, rocking back and forth. "Tell me your secret plan for
Stage 6. I've been waiting a year to hear this genius idea that comes with a ninety-seven
percent guarantee of marriage and babies."
"I will if he gets this next strike."
"I can't stand it. I have to think of something else."
"Okay, I'll give you a hint," I said. "It's going to take place at the Fly-Your-Geek-Flag
party."
She squealed and buried her mouth into her jacket. My gaze wandered from Alice to
Jasper to Edward, standing in the dugout cheering on his friend. Despite the Spartans overall
awfulness, he'd done quite well for himself this season after spending the summer practicing
with Phil. He'd even secured a co-captainship with Jasper. Charlie did a good impression of
pretending it didn't bother him that Edward had learned so much from the man my mother
had left him for, but I knew it nagged him. Crazy, this love stuff.
"Tell me something," I said, turning back to Alice. "Do you still think it was worth
it? Was Jasper worth a year of playing games and transforming into a better person and
being ousted from the popular group?"
"Absolutely," Alice said into the wind. "He's my lobster."
"I'll pretend I know what that means."
"And you're my shrimp."
"I know that somewhere up there in that head of yours that's a compliment, so thank
you."
"You are culturally obtuse for someone who runs a fandom t-shirt website." Perhaps
Stage 2: Personality Replacement hadn't fully taken, but it was close enough.
"Strike three!"
Alice's eyes closed in pure bliss.
"Grasshopper, congratulations. You have passed the final test. Stage 5 is complete.
It's time to start preparations for Stage 6: Happily Ever After."
"Wait. What about the rest of the game?"

  279  
 "Would you rather hear about my genius plan for Stage 6 or stay here and watch the
Spartans lose?" Again, it had nothing to do with avoiding Edward at all costs. It was simply
time for Stage 6 to begin.
"But I thought you told Edward we'd hang out with him after the game."
What was she, my mother? "I told him I'd see him at the game. And I did. I'm seeing
him right now. 'Hi, Edward.' " I waved offhandedly.
"But what if they–"
"They're down by seven. There's no coming back from that. Let's go."

"And in local news, I have Peninsula Daily News sports correspondent, Mark Schultz, on the
program to break down yesterday's stunning ninth-inning rally by the Forks High School Spartans that led
them to their first victory in two years under head coach, Charlie Swan. Mark, the whole town is buzzing.
What happened here?"
"You know, Joe, I gotta tell you. The ninth-inning of yesterday's game was perhaps the greatest
comeback in Forks' baseball history. The Spartans were down 7-0. Victory seemed, I'm gonna say it, beyond
impossible. But something happened after that eighth-inning. We could see it from the stands. Captain
Edward Cullen gave a rousing speech to his teammates, and when those boys got back on the field, there was
a grit in their eyes, inspiring them to an unforgettable triumph…"
I flipped off the car radio and turned all my attention to the quickest route to
Newton's Outfitters, not in the mood for another reminder of what a deplorable, loathsome,
putrefying excuse for a daughter and girlfriend I was. Charlie had come home last night,
thrilled to the bone by their win. I'll never forget how his face dropped when he realized I'd
missed it. A new, top-of-the-line fishing rod was the first of many gifts I was planning to
ease my guilt.
As for Edward, the town hero, I had no idea how I was going to make it up to him.
It was such bad timing, what with the SAT results still hanging over my head. The ironic
thing was that if I had stuck around for that extra inning, it would have provided me the
perfect opportunity to tell Edward I'd beaten his score. High on baseball victory, he
probably wouldn't have cared. Now I had two unworkable problems and no way out.
Newton's was two streets away. I flicked the turn-signal lever to make the right-hand
turn ahead. It blinked three times, and then went kaput. I tried again, and it didn't even
bother with the three blinks this time. Great. I had missed the baseball game and now my
blinkers weren't working. Karma was already making her rounds. I made the turn signal-less
and instantly regretted it as red and blue lights flashed in the review mirror seconds before
the sound of a siren hit my ears.
"Fuck," I muttered, turning off onto a residential road. Karma was the biggest bitch
I'd ever met. Well, besides whichever of Charlie's toadies exited that cruiser. It was probably
that idiot Officer Stevens. I would like to see him try to ticket me; his boss was the one who
gave me this rust bucket.
"I didn't mean that," I said, petting Firebolt's dashboard. "You know I love you even
if you're old and rusty."
The officer took his sweet time getting out of the vehicle, serving only to annoy me
further. When at long last the driver's side door opened to a boot hitting the ground and a
crop of bronze, curly hair poking over the top of the door, my irritation melted to
amusement. It was Edward! He really was the most adorable thing ever.

  280  
 Dashing would be the one word to describe him as he strutted over to the car
wearing his volunteer deputy uniform. Charlie, trusting Edward more than any of his other
employees, must have sent him for a car wash, and Edward was just willing enough to bend
the rules to surprise me. When he finally reached the car, he tapped on the window and I
rolled it down.
"May I see your license, registration, and proof of insurance, please?"
I laughed. "I don't think this is legal."
"I don't think I care." He was using his no-nonsense voice.
Just like that, my day was back to being crappy. My smile slipped into a sigh. "Fair
enough," I said, opening the glove compartment. As I pulled out the envelope with my
updated registration and insurance, my fingers skimmed the SAT results. Hopefully Edward
wouldn't insist on a full vehicular search.
"And license?"
"Really?"
"Really."
"Fine."
Once Edward had all mandatory documentation in hand, he pretended to sort
through and assess them properly. "Everything looks in order here, Miss," he re-checked my
license, "Swan. Do you know why I've pulled you over this afternoon?"
"Because my blinker lights aren't working?"
"Try again."
"Because I missed the final inning of your baseball game?"
"Try again."
That stopped me cold. "You aren't mad I left?"
"Of course not. You and your schemes were the reason we were losing in the first
place."
He'd noticed that. Damn. "I'm sorry. You know how it is with the Diabolical Plot–"
"Miss Swan, I'm going to stop you there. I support you in all your endeavors, but if I
never have to hear those two words strung together again, it will be too soon."
"Which two words? Diaboli–"
"Ap!" Edward said, holding up a hand.
"Is that why you pulled me over? Because of the Complicated But Wicked Clever
Plan to Get Jasper a Girlfriend?"
"Try again."
My hands fell from the steering wheel to my lap in defeat. There was only one option
left. "Because I taught Willow to play dead whenever he heard your name?"
His jaw flexed. "Is this a game to you, Miss Swan?"
"Not at all, Officer. Mind cluing me in to my crime?"
"Evading a police officer is a six-point traffic violation, Miss Swan, and you've been
doing it for a week. You are in deep, deep trouble."
My lip twitched. "Sorry, Officer Cullen. If you'd like, you can cuff and imprison me.
I'll only resist as much as you want me to."
Edward brushed off my thinly veiled flirtations with an eye-roll. "That won't be
necessary. I'll let you off with a warning and a stern talking-to." And he was off, lecturing me
on everything from trust to what it meant to be a team. I tuned out when it became evident
he, like Charlie, thought I was hiding my scores because I'd done terribly. Did anybody have
faith in my abilities?

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 "For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, for good grades, for bad grades, in
sickness, and in health, to love and to cherish…"
Why was he reciting wedding vows? I thought this was supposed to be a lecture. The
same strange feeling from the morning of the blue ring gripped me, sucking the air straight
from my lungs. "I get it," I said to shut it up.
At my interruption, Edward bumbled over his speech and didn't seem to know
where to go from there. "Okay. Good. What was your score, then?" I reached back into the
glove compartment and took out the torn envelope. Amused, he said, "You kept it in your
car?"
"I thought it was the last place you'd look, given your aversion to Firebolt."
"You know me too well." All I could do was hope he still felt that way after he saw
the contents of that envelope. His head tucked down to read the results, concealing his
reaction from me. That was okay. I didn't want to see it anyway. As he looked up again, I
turned away. "Bella, the least you can do is look at me."
"I don't want to," I said stubbornly, staring ahead to a fire hydrant.
"Please?" Maybe a quick glance wouldn't hurt. A peek out of the corner of my eye
changed everything. A large smile had replaced his glower. "It's exactly what I thought. You
kicked my ass."
"It's as you thought?" I gasped.
"You're not the only intelligent one here. A bad score would have warranted a three,
maybe four day reprieve. I figured it out when we hit six."
The burden of the last week lightened, but I needed to make sure we were kosher
before I could fully be free of it. "You aren't upset?"
"You're insanely silly for someone so clever. I'm not upset. I am so proud of you."
His voice hitched, not out of insincerity but from genuine gratification. I wanted to cry.
"You earned this. I can't express how happy I am. And not just for you. For us."
"But you don't feel like I've taken something away from you? You've been working
toward this your entire life."
"The only thing I've been working toward my entire life is you. Everything else is a
bonus. And your success doesn't negate mine. It enriches it. Do you know what this means
for us?"
There was a jubilant edge to my voice as I said, "We're going Ivy League?"
"Definitely. And to help us make a decision…" He pulled an envelope of his own
from his front pocket – I hadn't noticed because it was navy like his uniform – and handed it
to me through the window.
The envelope read American Airlines. "What's this?" I asked. He smiled playfully,
and my eyes narrowed as the flap opened. What was he up to? I drew in a sharp breath when
the ticket to New York, marked for June 25th, came into view, followed by a map of the
East Coast. It was highlighted in yellow, outlining an itinerary hand-written in sharpie:
Cornell, Dartmouth, Harvard, Brown, Yale, Columbia, and Princeton.
It was an Ivy League tour.
"We're all going," Edward said excitedly. "My parents, Grandma Evans, Charlie,
Renee, even Willow. Two weeks of visiting college campuses, finishing with three days
vacation in Pennsylvania. It's going to be prodigious!"
Everything sunk in at once. All those restless nights, my unsocial life, looking like a
homeless person… it had paid off. Relief and joy and hormones stormed through me like a
cyclone.

  282  
 "Officer Cullen?"
"Yes?"
"Please step back from the vehicle. I need to exit."
"May I ask why?"
"I would like to kiss you now."
"Are you asking or telling, Miss Swan?"
"Telling, with a side of asking."
"Then I'm more than happy to oblige."

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 Chapter 31: A Farewell to Eleventh Grade 2004 - 2005

It was a dark and stormy night. (Not really. More like, a bright, mildly windy
afternoon.) A sea of costumed teenagers, most of whom had never thought to step foot
inside the habitually vacant library, leaked into the hallways of Forks High. The tiny building
couldn't handle its new status as the place to be and the more than four hundred students
and faculty clamoring to show off their disguises. The Wolverines, Carrie Bradshaws, and
Disney princess skanks in the crowd displayed a distinctly loose interpretation of the term
"book character" on the Fly-Your-Geek-Flag invitation, but faith in intelligence was restored
by the Lancelots, the Hermione Grangers, the Cats in Hats, the Princess Buttercups, and by
one increasingly cheeky Jesus Christ.
Mrs. Brooks, the librarian, was huddled up in her office, presumably with a good
book and a tumbler of brandy. It was more than she had bargained for under the title of
Book Club Sponsor, and apart from the shelves of books, her library had become
unrecognizable. Twinkle lights, streamers, two tables full of book-themed food, and a dance
floor in the Applied Science and Technology section lent themselves to a party atmosphere
of grand proportions. Above it all hung a large banner with the luminous faces of Emmett,
Angela, and the consulting detective formerly known as Bella drawn onto it by the skilled
hand of Edward. It was important that people knew who had put on this shindig.
The evidence led to but one reasonable deduction: This was the greatest, most awe-
inspiring book club of all time. The Guinness Book of World Records would surely be interested.
In the midst of it all was I. Cunning, inscrutable, keenly observant. And my pipe
needed shining. The tweed sleeve of my Inverness cape swiped over the polish, finessing it
into an immaculate gleam.
Dorothy of Kansas, aka Angela, approached me with the flustered smile of a usually
levelheaded someone enjoying her first adolescent exploit. "Have you heard? We throw the
best party this side of the rainbow." Her stuffed dog, Toto, was equally as excited in his
squared, woven basket. "We're legends."
"To be sure, Dorothy. To be sure." A British lilt tinted my voice. "It does, however,
beg the question: Will anyone from this party be inclined to show up to Book Club next year
without the flair of festivities?"
The exhilaration deflated from her faster than a punctured balloon. "About that,
there's something I need to talk to you about."
"No need. I'm well aware that you're resigning as president of Book Club."
"How?"
"It is my business to know things. That is my trade." She was unconvinced. "I could
hardly fail to notice the slight faltering of your breathing, the bounce of your leg, the sudden
need to avoid my gaze. What other conclusion would support such apprehension?" I stuck
the pipe back in my mouth and sipped the tobacco-less air. "And because Bella is resigning,
as well."
"She is?"
"Indeed," said I. "As is Emmett."
"Emmett?"
"He told me not fifteen minutes ago, citing a desire for Book Club to go out with a
bang."

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 "This makes me so sad," said she. "It was nice having a guy-friend for once."
"Fear not. We shall meet again."
"I know, but I'm still going to miss it."
I tipped the edge of my deerstalker hat in her direction. "As will I. Perchance, have
you seen Dr. Watson?"
"He's running around taking pictures." Ever the biographer, that Watson. "Too bad
the Yearbook's already printed. This party deserves to be immortalized. Speaking of
yearbooks, there's this one autograph in mine that you have to read." She scooted Toto
aside, and pulled out the large book from her basket. "It's from the guy dressed as Bridget
Jones. He goes on and on about how awesome this party – wait, Bella, what is this?"
She held out the yearbook to me, but I didn't need it to read the inscription she was
referring to.

What you do in this world is

a matter of no consequence.
The question is what can you
make people believe you have
done.
― Sherlock Holmes

"Was that you?" asked she.

"Naturally."
"Did you sign all your autographs as Sherlock?"
"It is my business to know what other people don't know. I only wish to share my
wealth of knowledge." (Not really. I hadn't wanted the hours I'd spent scouring the Internet
for Sherlock's best quotes to go to waste.)
"People are not going to want to look back at their yearbooks to find a quote from
anyone other than Bella Swan."
"Perhaps."
"Bella, stop acting like you're in Never Never Land and sign my yearbook properly."
"Can't say I've ever been to Neverland, but Peter Pan and Tinkerbelle suggest it's
quite the retreat," I said, nodding toward Emmett and Rosalie on the dance floor.
"Bella," she said in a warning.
"I could perhaps make one exception."
"Thank you," said she, handing me her yearbook.

Dear Angela (revised),

You know you're totally my BFF

and my love for you is greater
than even my love for Harry Potter.
Can you believe we're seniors now?
To quote Rizzo from Grease,
"We are going to rule the school!"
Especially with our awesome
party-throwing skills. We are
invincible!

Here's one last Sherlock quote

that I haven't gotten to use yet:

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"The world is big enough for us.
No ghosts need apply."

I have no idea what that applies to,

but it reminded me of HP (because of
the ghosts!).

Love you!

Bella

Bella, Bella, Bella,

You're such a beautiful and
wonderful person. You've
always been there for me and
I can't thank you enough.
I have so much fun with you.
Even though it was kind of a bust,
B.C. was a blast and gave us the
best opportunity for some teenage
shenanigans. Remember the felt
sex organ debacle? That was
hilarious. Who would have
guessed the preacher's daughter
and police chief's daughter were
such pervs? (Don't let your dad
see this! LOL!) Emmett's a perv too,
but everyone already knows that.
;-)

You're my best friend and always

will be. We are going to have
houses next to each other and
everything like we planned.
I can't wait for this summer so
we can read the 6th book together!

Love, Angela

"This is not normal."

- Daniel Radcliffe, POA

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Bourke,

It has been the best year ever with you

and Ang around. You guys are the coolest
and I'm glad we got to hang.
We have to get together over the summer
& talk about HBP. I still think it's Hagrid.

The Boy Who Never Grows Up,

Emmett McCarty
Dear Emmett,

I have taken to living by my wits.

― Sherlock Holmes

P.S. This year has been incredible! You're

such a fun dude. I hope we hang out next
year, even without Book Club.

P.P.S. It's totally not Hagrid.

"Oh, my, god. Becky, look at her butt.

It is so big."

I still can't get it out of my head.

Thanks, Rosalie

Rosalie,

Mediocrity knows nothing higher

than itself; but talent instantly
recognizes genius.
― Sherlock Holmes

Bella,
You don't know me because I'm a
lowly freshman, but there's
something I've wanted to tell you
ever since I saw you. You're hot and
Edward Cullen is the luckiest guy
on the planet. I hate him.
Signed,
Too-Afraid-To-Tell-You-My-Name

P.S. This party is insane!

Dear Frosh,

Education never ends.

It is a series of lessons,
with the greatest for the last
― Sherlock Holmes

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Hey Chica!

HAGS!
I totally don't understand how you
survive on 3 hours of sleep.
Thanks for the, um, "helpful hints"
on vocab. Keep in touch you crazy,
obsessed person.
Jessica

Dear Jessica,

You have a grand gift for silence.

It makes you quite invaluable
as a companion.
― Sherlock Holmes

Bella,
I am so glad I was able to be friends
with you these last couple of years. I am
going to miss you next year. You helped
keep school entertaining. You know if
you are ever bored just call me.
By the way, I am stil going to be in
state for college, so you don't have to
cry yourself to sleep. We should, in fact,
do something over the summer, K?
Always your friend,
Cynthia Brandon
555-9532
Cynthiakay@hotmail.com
Dear Cynthia,

To let the brain work without sufficient

material is like racing an engine.
It racks itself to pieces.
― Sherlock Holmes

Hey sexy thang!

One more year. Have a great summer.
Please do something else than
worshipping Harry Potter.

Eric Yorkie
AIM: HollabackBoy88
Yahoo: MrBrightside88
MSA: BehindTheseHazelEyes88
e-mail: eric_yorkie@netscape.com

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Dear Eric,

Don't talk. You lower the IQ

of the entire street every time
you open your mouth.
― Sherlock Holmes

Bella,
THANK YOU!
~ Alice Brandon
Dear Alice,

Because it is my desire.
Is that not enough?
― Sherlock Holmes

P.S. Clearly my desire is not

enough or this day would
have come months ago.
But whatevs.

You look great. Stage 6 is

within our grasp.

Mwahahaha!

Hey Bella,
On the one hand, it's great to finally
be done with high school, but on the
other, I'm going to miss you, Edward,
and the gang.
I know we've had some ups and downs
over the years, but I think it's turned
out all right.
I'll come down and visit from UDub.
Jasper

Dear Jasper,

A strange enigma is man.

― Sherlock Holmes

P.S. I'm going to miss you too,

but I'm sure we'l l be seeing
you around a lot. You don't
know what this means yet,
but always remember me as
the diabolical genius I am!

"What's going on over here?" asked Watson. A dapper bloke was he, wearing a
tailored three-piece suit and black, felt top hat. A camera hung around his neck, reminding
me of the yearbook photographer from middle school. There was no mystery here: Watson

  289  
was as intoxicating as the cocaine fix I was wont to take on occasion. (Not really. Hugs, not
drugs.) Jasper trailed behind him, predictably dressed in his Faramir costume and carrying a
rather cantankerous disposition. Something was amiss.
"Bella's annoying me with her Sherlock shtick," answered Angela.
"Don't try to stop her. It'll only get worse."
"I want to know how all this came about. Of all the fictional characters you could
have gone as, why Sherlock?"
"Watson, please explain." My attentions were better spent observing Jasper.
"Well, we knew we wanted to do a couples costume, but she refused to dress up as
Arwen–"
"And he refused to dress up as Ron Weasley," I inserted, knowing he would omit his
portion of the blame.
"I thought I was telling the story."
"Then continue, old fellow."
"Our back up would have been Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, but Bella rightfully
objected." He pointed behind him, where a wall of Lizzie Bennets waited for an absent Mr.
Darcy to ask for a dance. "Romeo and Juliet killed themselves. Heathcliff and Catherine
married other people out of spite. And we didn't want to go as anyone people wouldn't
recognize, like Bassanio and Portia."
"Who?"
"Precisely. So we asked ourselves, who is the greatest literary couple that never met a
tragic end? And voila! I present Sherlock Holmes, possessor of a 2310 SAT score, mind you,
and his quick-witted, devilishly handsome chronicler, Dr. Watson."
"I didn't know Bella had even read the books," said Angela.
Watson laughed. "She read the 1950's television show."
"You cut me to the quick," I said absentmindedly. Jasper was rubbing his eyebrow
furiously and looking everywhere but at our circle of friends. I checked my pocket watch.
4:13 PM. It was go-time. "Bee in your bonnet, Whitlock?"
He focused in on me at the sound his name. "Hmm?"
"You are perturbed."
"Why do you say that?"
"Aside from your recently acquired habit of fidgeting and obvious agitation, you
have crumbs on your shirt. This indicates you've been to the dessert table. The Jasper
Whitlock we know and love doesn't eat carbs unless it's a federally sanctioned holiday." He
bashfully dusted off the imaginary crumbs. I'd only included that remark for show, having
seen him hit up the dessert table earlier. "When you have eliminated the impossible,
whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. We know that today is not a
holiday, which leaves only one other viable option. I do declare, Jasper Whitlock is in love!"
The group did not seem at all as impressed with my deductive reasoning. Watson
pinched the bridge of his nose, as if embarrassed for me.
"Hardly," said Jasper, chuckling.
"Your nonchalance substantiates my theory. You say, 'hardly,' as if a casual aside, but
I couldn't help noticing the slight faltering of your breathing, the bounce of your leg, the
sudden need to avoid my gaze."
"That was the same speech she gave me," Angela told Watson.
"She only rehearsed the one," Watson muttered back.

  290  
 "Pray tell," Jasper said, having missed their exchange. "If I'm so in love, where is this
lucky lady?"
"She is not here, thus the root of your anxiety."
"Who? Who is it?"
"None other than Alice Brandon."
Jasper turned on Watson. "You told her!"
"Believe me when I say, she did all the talking."
"Do not fret, old fellow. The game's afoot." I once again held up my pocket watch.
"And I predict any hard feelings on your end will come to a screeching halt in three, two,
one." I waved my hand, indicating the predetermined location from which Alice was to
emerge at exactly 4:15 to fulfill Stage 6.
Only she didn't.
My three companions gave me weary glances. "I'm still in a bad mood," said Jasper.
"Excuse me." From a hidden tweed pocket, I pulled a modern device: my cell phone.
There was no need to check my text messages, as the welcome screen illuminated my
problem quite clearly. The pocket watch was a minute off. Damn. Luckily Alice broke
through the crowd before I had to vamp for time. "By Jove! See there? Do I spot Eowyn in
the distance?"
Indeed, I did. Alice's brunette spikes were tucked under a long, wavy, reddish-blonde
wig, and she wore a bottle green, fitted gown with funnel sleeves and a belt of metal rosettes.
Most importantly, she wielded Eowyn's sword. Jasper was breathless at the site.
"You have a special talent for conquering the hearts of Ringers," said Watson,
amused.
"I've had practice."
It only took Jasper thirteen seconds to recover from his stupor and strut over to her,
without another look back at us.
Stage 6: Happily Ever After – Check
"What do you think he's going to say to her?" asked Angela, glowing with
anticipation.
"If I was a betting man," I said, taking a puff from my pipe, "he's saying, 'You've
kept me waiting.' "
"Why on Earth would he say that?"
"It's the first thing she said to him three years ago. They've kept each other waiting,
really." I turned away when the kissing started. PDA made me sick. Watson was watching
me closely, with that handsome smirk in place. He'd never kept me waiting and I was so glad
for it. "What are you thinking?"
"I'm wondering how in the hell your crazy plot worked."
I saluted him with my pipe. "It's elementary, my dear Watson. Elementary."
His eyebrows rose. "Interesting. Very interesting."
"What is this 'interesting' nonsense?"
"It's just that you created the Diabolical Plot in sophomore year, not elementary
school."
"Your point?"
"I'd have assumed someone as deadly clever as Sherlock would enjoy the occasional
turn of phrase. As the Diabolical Plot was conceived in sophomore year, the double
entendre, 'It's sophomoric, my dear Watson. Sophomoric,' comes to mind."

  291  
 I could see why Sherlock was so bloody fond of Watson. "Excellent, Watson. You're
an inspiration."
"Then allow me to astound you further." He took a step forward and rested his hand
against my neck. At first, I supposed it a gesture of sweetness. I was soon proven wrong. "As
I suspected, your heartbeat has quickened. Your lashes flutter quite frequently over dilated
pupils. Though minutely, your breath has deepened. A flush tickles your cheeks and runs
down to your chest. And this," his thumb ran over my lower lip, caressing it from my teeth's
grip, "is your most damning tell. You are suffering from a condition commonly known as
tumescence."
"You've surpassed yourself, Watson," I croaked.
"I think not," said Angela. "It seemed to escape both your notices that Dorothy's still
standing here, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Tumescence? Dear Lord, save us all."

My Darling Sherlock,

Another year filled with mishaps and adventures has passed. I can't be the only one who feels High

School is flying by too fast. If I could, I'd freeze this moment so as to take in and commit to memory

every moment, every detail of my time with you. But then I'd unfreeze it (assuming I had the power)

because I know the best of our lives is still ahead of us.

I cannot express the depth of my gratitude for all the hard work you put in this year to make our

dream future a reality. You are an amazing woman and I don't know what I ever did to deserve you

(although, I see that according to some random freshman, I don't. Laugh out loud).

Love to the moon and beyond,

Your Watson (aka Swirl)

Dear Edward,

It was a dark and stormy night. The heater was out, so the only things keeping me warm
were the fireplace and Willow. Maybe there was a blanket thrown in there. The lightning and
thunder were putting me on edge as I sat in the family room, waiting for Dad to come home
from work so the house wouldn't be so very empty.

Three pounding knocks on the front door scared the wits out of me. Who would be coming
around on a night as dreadful as this? If I was Sherlock, I would have deduced that my
incredible, loving, devoted boyfriend would drive through terrible weather conditions to get to
me if he thought I was even a little scared. As soon as I opened the door, you jumped into
action, bouncing around all over the house, singing My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music
to cheer me up.

You kept me warm the rest of the night.

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Thanks for making my life awesome. I can't imagine it with anyone else. You are my lobster.
(Alice explained to me that Friends' reference and it's actually very sweet. Lobsters mate for life
and so it means we're soul mates).

Love Forever,
Your Bella Swan

P.S. OMG! You know what I just realized? Swans also mate for life. That would make so much
more sense in the context of our relationship. I take back what I wrote before.
You are my swan.

Love Forever,
Your Swan

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 Chapter 32: The First Time She Released Her Inner Crazy

The first time I met Edward Cullen I was twelve years old.
He was sitting in front of a computer in first period Yearbook class with a camera
around his neck, furiously sorting through pictures on the monitor in front of him.
Four years later, we returned to that same classroom holding hands. It was like
stepping into a nostalgia portal – a magical nostalgia portal. This was the place we had fallen
in love.
"It's the same as I remember it," I spoke softly, so as not to disturb the empty
classroom, "except somehow smaller."
It was Senior Mentor Day in Forks, the day where seniors from Forks High crossed
the road back to Forks Middle School and gave the eighth graders a glimpse of the
awesomeness they'd achieve if they kept their grades above a D-average. With some string
pulling and bribery, Edward and I had secured the first-period Yearbook class as our lucky
pupils and had arrived early, anticipating the trip down memory lane.
"Wait a minute," Edward said, releasing my hand. "We're doing this all wrong. You
stay there." He hopped over to his old computer station and sat down, looking three sizes
too big for it. "Okay, let's start from the beginning. It was September 5th, 2001. Little did I
know that it was not going to be another droll, lackluster day in the life of Edward Cullen.
Little did I know that my life was about to be forever altered. Suddenly, there you were,
walking in like a breath of fresh air, shining with confidence as you started your new life in
Forks, Washington."
That was so not how it went. "You know nothing. You were hunched over your
computer, not paying any attention to the new girl."
"If you feel my account is inaccurate, then by all means reenact away. I'll pay
attention this time."
It was silly but exciting. I re-entered the classroom as close to the socially awkward
eighth grader I used to be. "So I walked in, much like I just did, except I was holding onto
the straps of my lucky, purple backpack which is, unfortunately, no longer with us, and the
first thing I saw was you. I considered going to sit next to you, but you looked like you
wanted to be left alone."
"For the last time in my life," he said with a sparkle in his eye. "But we both know
even that couldn't keep you away. What was it that did you in?"
"Rosalie shot me the dirtiest look," I said, recalling her icy blue gaze. "It sent me
straight into your arms."
"God bless Rosalie's bad manners."
I navigated the desks over to him. "What were you feeling right before you met me?"
"I can't recall anything about my life before I met you."
His ability to deliver foot-popping lines was as exceptional as ever. "Then what were
you thinking when you looked up from your computer and I was standing right here?"
"I thought that you were something out of Tolkien, and that was the highest
compliment I offered back then. What about you?"
"I can't remember exactly," I said, taking my old seat next to him. "I just remember
having this feeling that I was meant for you. Like we were destined to be together. And from
then on, you were it for me."

  294  
 Edward pulled my right hand to him and kissed my daisy ring. "Always. Can you
remember the first words we said to each other?" I shook my head. "Me neither. I was so
nervous talking to you, I couldn't remember our conversation five minutes after it
happened."
"Is that why you gave me your business card? Because you were nervous?"
"I gave you my business card because of a scene in American Psycho, where Christian
Bale gets envious over a business card with subtle off-white coloring, tasteful thickness, and
a watermark. I designed my business cards after that so I knew I'd make a solid first
impression with it."
"That is so Swirl of you. I still have that business card. I used to sleep with it under
my pillow."
"You didn't," he said in disbelief.
"Creeped out?"
"No, just taking a moment to fall even more in love with you."
I watched as he absentmindedly twisted my daisy ring around and around my finger.
By now, it was a habit as natural to him as breathing. "I remember that when you went to
shake my hand, you had to wipe yours on your jeans because it was sweaty."
"And I remember that after we shook hands, you asked if I was gay."
"That was mortifying. Mort-i-fy-ing! I thought I'd blown my chances with you over a
case of verbal diarrhea."
"It would have taken a lot more than explosive oral defecation to scare me away. Oh,
wait, wait, wait." He tapped his keyboard and the screensaver cleared. It wasn't long before
an IM popped up on my monitor.

COMP520072: This is Edward Cullen to Bella Swan.

COMP520073: This is BS to EC. What's up?
COMP520072: Do you even know what BS stands for?
COMP520073: Britney Spears. What can I do for you?
COMP520072: You can spend the rest of your life making me the happiest man on
the planet.

I froze. The familiar heart palpitations that signaled an oncoming panic attack started
up, only times a thousand. Oh, my God. This was the real deal. Edward was proposing. I
wasn't ready. I wasn't–
COMP520072: You look really pretty when you blush like that.

"First compliment I had ever paid a girl," Edward said without missing a beat. I
chanced a glance over to him. There was no ring. I blew out a breath. Not a proposal, but a
sweet anecdote. "I was so nervous that you were going to think I was some sort of pervert,
but I knew I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't say something romantic during our
first interaction."
My hands were still trembling as my heart decelerated. I folded them to hide the
tremors from Edward. No, let him see how freaked out the idea of marriage makes you.
"Shut up," I said almost silently. I tried to play off my breathlessness as reminiscence.
"Well, it worked. You got a girl that can't wait to spend the rest of her life making you the
happiest man on the planet."
The classroom door opened and Esme appeared. As soon as she saw us, her
shoulder bag dropped to the floor and a hand flew to her heart. "Oh, you two," she said with

  295  
a sniffle. Edward and I exchanged an amused grin. "I can't help it. I need a picture. Don't
move."
We obliged with a few poses: one where we were pretending to focus on the
computers, one where we were pretending to talk to each other, one where Edward slung his
arm over my shoulder and we smiled directly up at the camera, and the last where we were
smiling at each other. As we took the picture, his green eyes mesmerized me the way they
had all those years ago. I remembered sitting here, sharing infinite stares and secret smiles.
My heart pounded again, not from anxiety or panic, but from the overwhelming amount of
love I had for this man.
Edward leaned in and gently kissed me. That was something he'd never done in
Yearbook class and a throat clearing reminded me why. "Picture's over now, guys."
"Right," I said, blushing as I pulled away, Edward snickering delightedly in my ear.
Esme carefully laid her camera back in her bag and pulled out a sheet of black paper
with a red ribbon tied around it. "Bella, this is for you." The paper was heavier than the
average cardstock, clearly expensive, and inscribed with a curvy, silver font.

Elizabeth Evans requests the pleasure of your company at

The (Hopefully) One and Only Evans Estate Auction

Come for the

Free Stuff – Lunch – Family Time

Saturday, October 5, 2005

8:00 AM to 3:00 PM

946 Heartland Drive

Port Angeles, WA 98362

Please arrive with your best behavior and

an eagerness to share.

"What is this?" I asked, flipping it over. A post-it was attached with a handwritten
note: Please bring Willow. I'm going to need something more than brandy to get through the day.
"My mother's attempt to keep things civil as we divide up her assets," Esme said.
"But…" How did I phrase this sensitively? "She isn't dead yet."
"That's Mother for you. She'd rather be around to oversee the process or she fears
my sister and I will raise her from the dead with our squabbling."
Esme was pretty much the nicest person on this planet, which led me to conclude,
"Your sister must be awful."
She tried to resist a smile. "I can't say anything about Sister without sounding petty.
Edward, however, can say anything he wants." She slung her bag over her shoulder and
headed for her desk. "Wear comfortable clothes next Saturday. We're likely to be there most
of the day."
I turned to Edward. "Is your aunt really that bad?"
"From what I've heard, yes. There's some bad blood between our families."
"Why?"
He glanced at Esme skeptically. "I'm not sure if now is the best time–"

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 "Don't keep her in suspense on my behalf," Esme said without looking up from the
stack of papers she was shuffling through. "She's a part of this family. She should know."
"Okay then," Edward said. "Keep in mind that I was a baby during all this so
everything I know is from what other people have told me."
"I'll interject if you get anything wrong."
"Much appreciated." As his mother, Esme could probably hear the sarcasm as much
as I could. "To start, a bit of back-story: Aunt Sasha is about a year younger than Mom and
was always very competitive. For instance, when my parents were on the verge of getting
engaged, Aunt Sasha forced her then-boyfriend to produce a ring and set a date three weeks
before the one Mom had been eyeing."
An older version of Alice became my visual of Sasha. That was totally the kind of
thing she would do to Cynthia.
"Accordingly, when Mom got pregnant before she did, Aunt Sasha freaked out. She
declared she was barren and started looking into adoption. A week before I was born, they
adopted a two-year-old girl named Carmen."
"Were they adopting because they wanted Carmen or because she just wanted to
have a kid before your mom?"
"It became very obvious the adoption was for vanity's sake when, low and behold, a
month later Aunt Sasha got pregnant and forgot all about Carmen."
"No way," I said in horror.
"Well, it's not like they abandoned her to the wilderness. Mom and Grandma just got
saddled with a lot of babysitting while Aunt Sasha was off 'preparing for the new baby.'
Mom didn't mind it, though, even with a newborn of her own. She says Carmen loved
looking after me."
"So is that why they don't get along? Because Sasha was horrible to Carmen?"
"Kind of." Edward again looked over to Esme. "As you can imagine, Mom and Dad
grew attached to Carmen. By the time Tanya was born, Carmen had her own bedroom at
our house for when she'd come to stay. She was practically living with us when Aunt Sasha
had her second daughter two years later."
"Why would she have more kids if she couldn't even take care of the ones she
already had?"
"Oh, she took care of Tanya and Kate just fine." My heart sank. How could
someone be so cruel to an innocent, little girl? "When Carmen turned five and was about to
start kindergarten, my parents decided it was time to officially make Carmen a part of our
family."
There was no way this story had a happy ending. If it did, I would've been battling an
over-protective sister for the past four years.
"As I'm sure you've already figured out, the second they expressed interest, Aunt
Sasha had a cow. She tore Carmen away from us and told Mom she'd never see her again."
"I just don't get why. Clearly she was only interested in her natural-born children."
"I have no idea what that… that hag," Edward spat the word, "was thinking."
"It's the green dress syndrome," Esme spoke up. "Sister One doesn't look good in a
particular green dress, so she gives it to Sister Two. But when Sister Two looks phenomenal
in that same green dress, Sister One suddenly wants it back."
"That's seriously messed up," I said, happier than ever that I was an only child.
Edward nodded. "Grandma was furious with Aunt Sasha – still is – but for Carmen's
sake, Mom begged her not to get involved. To make matters worse, Aunt Sasha caught wind

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that Mom and Dad were looking into legal options. Her husband took a job offer in Alaska
and that was that. They took Carmen and moved out of state, making it virtually impossible
to fight a custody battle."
I ached to give Esme a hug for the almost-daughter she had lost. "Have you seen
them since all of this went down?"
"Nope. Grandma goes up to visit a few times a year. She says the only one of them
she can stand is Carmen."
"She does not say that," Esme said.
"Not in so many words, but you know it's true."
"Is Carmen going to be at the auction?" I asked.
Esme started down the rows of computers, placing worksheets on the keyboards.
"As far as I know, yes. All of them are."
"Are you nervous to see her?" The question was a personal one, but this was the
unflinching woman who'd answered that all-important question from Stepmom for me (in
regard to snowblowing) and forced Edward and I to watch yearly demonstrations on how to
put condoms on various phallic-shaped fruit.
"A little, but it all worked out for the best," she said, coming around to our aisle.
"Sasha stepped up and became a better mother to Carmen and ten years later I got the
daughter I always wanted in one Miss Isabella Marie Swan." She placed a kiss on my
forehead, making me all gooey inside.
The best decision I ever made was choosing Yearbook over Ceramics. Esme went
back to passing out worksheets and soon the students began filtering in. One after another
they came, with their braces and acne and bad hair.
"Jesus, were we ever that small?" Edward asked, echoing my thoughts.
My nose crinkled as I watched a boy, who hadn't nearly hit puberty, plant a kiss on a
similarly underdeveloped girl. "We started dating when we looked like that."
"And memory lane is official closed for business."

"Before we get to the auction, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you
about," Edward said. He was at the wheel of my truck, driving up Old Olympic Highway to
Mrs. Evans's home. She lived on the outskirts of Port Angeles, in a forested area between
Olympic National Park and the Salish Sea. I'd never been up this way before and was bowled
over by the views – purple and yellow wildflowers peppered the quiet roads as the hovering
trees waved us in. Willow sat contentedly between us on the front bench. We'd taken
Firebolt because, as much as he loved Willow, Edward still had issues with dog hair in his
Volvo.
"What's going to happen at this auction exactly?" I asked, enjoying the early morning
air blowing on my face. It smelled of sea salt and nature. "I mean, I know you're dividing up
her assets, but how is that going to work? Why is it called an auction?"
"I'm not sure. She's kept the details fairly hush-hush. I don't think she wanted
anyone arguing with how she decided to do things."
"It is a little weird, don't you think?" I'd feel awful vying for my loved one's
possessions when they were gone; I couldn't imagine doing it when they were alive.
"I think she'll just feel better with all her affairs in order, which is actually something
I wanted–"

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 "But she's fine, right? She's not sick or anything?" Though not the youngest
grandmother in body, Mrs. Evans had a strength to her that had not faded in the years I'd
known her. Her spirit was young. I wouldn't be surprised if the woman lived forever, and I
would be devastated if she didn't.
"I assure you, she's in perfect health," Edward said, "but we have to talk."
"About what?"
"I want to preface what I'm about to ask you with a disclaimer: Please don't yell at
me."
"I'll do my best," I said suspiciously. "What's up?"
"I was wondering how you would feel about possibly selling MyT-Spot."
Ha! I wasn't the only crazy one in this car. "Sell MyT-Spot? Why on heaven's earth
would we do that after all the work I've – we've put into it?"
Edward seemed encouraged by my calm incredulity. "We've had a few inquiries since
you implemented the new technology. That coupled with our ever-growing user base
appears to be a very attractive acquisition for some Internet companies. Grandma thinks we
could easily make a few hundred grand on it. It'd be plenty to cover us through college and
maybe have a little nest egg for after."
"But we can make just as much, or maybe even more, monthly if we keep running it
like we do now. Why don't we just keep it?"
His head bobbed along with the curvy road. I could see him thinking a million miles
a second. "Can I be honest about something?"
"I usually prefer that, unless it's something gross."
"I don't know if I have another four years in me to devote to MyT-Spot."
"Why?" I squeaked. "Are you trying to tell me you're dying?"
"No, I'm not dying, silly girl. I just don't know if I want to dedicate that much more
time and effort into MyT-Spot. I'm kind of burnt out."
"I don't understand. How can you be burnt out? This is our brainchild."
"Yes, I know. And it has been a lot of fun, but looking ahead to the future, are you
really going to want to juggle MyT-Spot with college? I don't think we're going to be able to
give it the attention it needs."
"What do you mean? We've always been able to manage the website with school."
"You nearly had a meltdown last year because of it."
"I was coding last year – way more stressful. Now we're in maintenance mode. Easy-
peasy."
"For now it's easy, but I know you. You're going to think of something brilliant and
want to execute it. Websites evolve and you're never going to want to stop making it better."
"What's wrong with that? I'm gonna want something else to fill my days with besides
homework." Edward pursed his lips. "God, I hate that look. Just spit it out."
"No yelling."
"I'm not yelling. I'm emoting."
He sighed. "Think about what our first year at school is going to be like. It's not
going to just be homework. It's going to be getting used to a new state, a new home, and a
new phase in our relationship. Next year, we'll probably be getting used to living together
and planning our wedding…"
Like a pot boiling over, the sensation of wanting to crawl out of my skin washed
over me, dousing me, searing me. Edward continued on about how he'd rather spend time
cultivating our relationship than a website, but I was too far gone.

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 Is he trying to tell you to quit your job so you can plan a wedding? asked a very unwelcome
voice.
I focused on controlling my outward symptoms – steadying my breathing, smiling,
sitting still – and tried to find a way to snap myself out of it before it got to the sobbing,
hair-pulling, dry-heaving stage.
"Panic attacks," the doctor had diagnosed two weeks ago when I'd gone in hoping it
was something medical, like the never-ending flu or cancer, "triggered by a mild case of
gamophobia, the fear of marriage."
It had started off small, an itchy consciousness of my blue ring after Alice's party that
was easily shaken off, but it had ballooned into an all-out crisis over the summer. We weren't
kids anymore. Our Ivy League trip had brought to the forefront a future that was
unquestionably college and marriage. The only person not thrilled with the idea of my young
marriage was my mother, full of well-placed barbs that did nothing to help my situation.
My first panic attack hit me by surprise right in the middle of our tour of Cornell
when Charlie asked the tour guide what other married couples did for housing. My heart had
started pounding, like it was going to beat right out of my body. After announcing to our
entire group that I'd gotten my period, I sprinted to the bathroom, thinking I was going to
die next to the toilets like Moaning Myrtle. That was also the first time B made an
appearance.
"Appearance" was the wrong word, considering B wasn't a person. She wasn't
anything, except a feeling, a whisper of doubt and fear. She was the manifestation of the
gamophobia, and I hated her.
A convenient place for a panic attack didn't exist, but right now, confined in a truck
with Edward, I had no recourse. The only way I had found to ward off my irrational fears
was to fight back with irrational risks, counteract crazy with crazy. I had pierced my belly
button (immediately regretted and removed), skinny-dipped (and got caught) in a Rhode
Island hotel, and groped a naked statue at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Trapped here,
no stone wiener within reach and Willow's fur becoming more grating than comforting by
the second, the need to scream and bury my head in my hands became almost unbearable.
Where was a bottle of shaving cream when you needed one?
What would you do with that? B said, deciding it was time to get her two cents in. Maybe
you should just shut up and listen to me.
I vaguely heard Edward ask me if I was cold and folded in on myself to contain the
trembling. I eyed the steering wheel and considered jerking it to make the car swerve.
You're crazy, not suicidal. You know who else was crazy? Tesla. And he never married either.
"Sell it." As soon as the words were out, my body started to slow down. Impulse
decisions worked as well as midnight prank-calls to Jasper.
"Are you serious? I had three more speeches prepared."
"It's time for a career change. I just have one request," I said, enjoying the way my
muscles relaxed. B was there but quiet, unhappy. "I don't want to know about it. I don't
want to know the details. I want to keep working on the website like nothing's happening,
and then one day, I want you to just tell me it's done."
"You don't want to be a part of any of the decisions?"
"No. I trust you and Mrs. Evans to take care of it."
Edward seemed unsure. "I'm going to wait two weeks before we get started on
looking for a buyer, in case you change your mind."
"I'm not going to. Decision's made."

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 He tightened his lips but let it go. God, I was a lucky girl. I couldn't believe how
much I loved him after all this time. As the last remnants of the panic attack faded away,
another all too familiar emotion took its place: Guilt. How could any part of myself not want
to marry this man? I didn't understand it. Since eighth grade, he'd been my everything. He
was my sun, my moon, my stars. How did I repay his love and devotion? By inviting a
marriage-hating psychopath into my head.
"I can feel you staring at me," he said, cracking a smile.
"Just enjoying the view."
Here's an idea. You can say yes to Edward and no to marriage.
I wanted both and I despised her for trying to convince me otherwise. B was not
short for Bella.
Firebolt curved onto an unpaved bend in the road and I looked out the window,
trying to let the guilt go – it wasn't like I could control the panic. The trees on the left were
beginning to thin and glimpses of the sea flashed through them. "It's beautiful up here."
"Grandma has one of the best properties this side of Port Angeles."
"How far away is it?"
"We're on it. She owns about four acres up the coastline and into the forest. Her
house is just up there. If you look above the trees, you can see the roof."
My mouth fell open. "Edward, that isn't a house. That is a mansion."
"Yeah, I guess it is."
About a minute later, we pulled into a roundabout and my jaw permanently hit the
cabin's floor. The house was immense and gorgeous, a gagillion square foot stone
Renaissance mansion, covered in ivy to give it the illusion of age. The house wanted to be
old and, to most, it probably was, but my eye detected the intention behind faded paint and
man-made cracks, put there to make it look tested. It would have probably taken hundreds
of years to achieve the facade naturally, but according to Edward, it was built in the 1960s.
"Four years and you never told me your grandma lived in a mini-version of
Hogwarts."
Edward's eyes danced at my reaction. "I haven't been here in forever," he said,
leaning against his seat's headrest reminiscently. "This is where my imagination soared as a
child."
"Um, yah," I said. "I mean, look at this. It's freaking magic."
A knock on Edward's window startled both of us out of our admiration, drawing our
attention to a man wearing a jacketless tux hovering there. Edward cracked the window.
"How can I help you?"
"May I park your vehicle, Sir?"
Edward gave an amused grunt as he unbuckled. "Typical Grandma."
"Does she normally keep a valet?" I asked, imagining a cabana boy serving her a
cocktail.
"No. She's just showing off for the day."
As soon as Edward, Willow, and I were on the ground, the valet drove Firebolt away
and we were left to marvel at the house without the filter of a windshield. It gave me chills.
Actual chills.
"If I remember correctly, it's just as amazing inside," Edward hinted.
"I just need another second to take this in," I said. The morning sun was hitting the
stone just right, making it glow. "Now, I am ready."

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 A young man, not much older than us, answered the door wearing an identical tux as
the valet, only with a jacket and white bowtie. "Good morning, Master and Miss," he said in
a fluty British accent. I was absolutely delighted; Mrs. Evans knew how to put on a show.
"Welcome to The Hopefully One and Only Evans Estate Auction. Allow me to escort you
to the appropriate room."
"Sure," Edward said, taking a step forward.
"Uhh…" The butler put an arm out to stop him and glanced down to Willow. "I'm
not sure about that." His accent fell away with the script.
"About what?" I asked.
"The dog, Miss. I don't think he's allowed inside."
"You bigot."
Edward put a hand on my arm. "He's mild-mannered. There won't be a problem."
"I'm sorry, but–"
"Willow is here by personal invitation of Mrs. Evans," I said. "Go get her, and she'll
tell you."
"I'm sorry, but she won't be downstairs for another ten minutes and I'm not allowed
upstairs. There's millions of dollars worth of stuff on display in here. I don't feel comfortable
without her expressed permission."
"Millions of dollars?" I repeated, without censoring the awe from my voice.
"Yes. You can see my predicament."
Edward and I shared a perplexed look. "What are we supposed to do with Willow,
then?" he asked.
I was still on, "Millions of dollars?"
"We didn't bring his leash. Is there something in there we can tie him up with?"
The butler held up a finger and disappeared inside the house.
"Millions?"
Edward pulled me into a one-armed hug. "It's refreshing to know you didn't start
dating me for my family's money."
"I would have if you'd given me the chance."
The butler came back holding a jump rope. Willow looked up at me with his sad,
brown eyes and his crooked underbite as Edward tethered him to the porch railing. "We'll be
back for you soon," I assured, kissing the top of his head, and tried not to look back as I
entered the house.
The first thing I saw was a grand, cascading staircase. It led to an intermediate
landing before parting into two staircases that carved a loop into the second floor, producing
the perfect showcase for an intricate, dangling chandelier. Everything around the staircase
was perfectly symmetrical, almost as if one side of the room was being reflected back to the
other. On the right side of hall was a large doorway with a carved sign above it that said,
"Children." On the left side, was an identical doorway that read, "Grandchildren."
"I feel faint," I said, fanning myself.
"I believe this is you," the butler said, reclaiming his accent as he led us to the
"Grandchildren" room.
My eyes scrambled over every inch of the parlor. "Oh, my God. Look!" I said,
straying in the opposite direction. Barely visible under the paneled underbelly of the stairs
was a door. I opened it to find a small room with cleaning supplies. "It's the cupboard under
the stairs!"

  302  
 Edward's laugh collided with the ring of the doorbell. The butler looked a little too
eager to answer it. "Go ahead," Edward said. "I think we can manage the last six footsteps
by ourselves."
The butler was reciting his, "Good morning, Master and Miss," speech when we
entered the auction room. It was like an antiquer's dream. Six long tables filled the room,
covered by red tablecloths then stuffed with porcelain dolls, gas lanterns, tea sets (at least
one of which appeared to be made of gold), china, quilts, clocks, figurines, and a thousand
other things only a grandmother would have. I picked up an old newspaper dated December
8, 1941. U.S. DECLARES STATE OF WAR, the headline read.
"Holy moly," I said, taking care to put the newspaper down gently and to duck the
gaze of a full suit of armor that was staring at me.
"Normally this is a living room," Edward said from three tables over.
"What's across the hall?"
"A dining room. I assume all the big ticket stuff is over there for the adults."
"Big ticket?" I eyed a phonograph that had to be worth several hundred dollars, if
not more. I didn't even want to think about what was in the other room if that was
considered small time.
At the end of the tables was a line of chairs facing a pulpit. Five black, velvet
necklace mannequins lined the ledge of the pulpit, displaying the most spectacular diamond
necklaces I had ever seen. There was one wrist mannequin holding a pricey-looking watch –
for Edward, I assumed. Hanging down the front of the pulpit was a small chalkboard with a
list written on it in Mrs. Evan's handwriting.

1. Bella
2. Carmen
3. Edward
4. Irina
5. Kate
6. Tanya
"Hey, Edward? What's this?" I asked, mostly concerned because my name was at the
top.
"Apparently," a girl-like voice that was not Edward's answered, "that's the order
we're going in."
I turned around to find three blondes descending on me. The youngest couldn't have
been older than thirteen. They all wore expensive, faux-casual clothes that made them look
like they'd walked off the set of The O.C.
"The order?" I asked the oldest.
"Apparently, we're taking turns choosing what we want until everything's spoken for.
That's what Granny says. I'm Tanya. Who are you?"
"I'm Bella."
"Oh, you're Bella." She made it sound like that was a bad thing. "And how do you
know Granny?"
"She's with me," Edward said, walking over to our group. "I'm Edward Cullen."

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 "Oh." Tanya looked between us with a disinterested interest. "Are you guys, like,
mar–"
"Madly in love?" I asked before she could use the m-word. "Yes, we are."
"Why do you get to go first?" the little one said.
Edward glanced at the list. "Obviously, it's alphabetical."
"To be honest," Tanya said, "we're kind of confused about why she gets to go at all."
My eyebrows shot up. I had wondered the same thing not a minute ago, but the way
she'd phrased it was downright accusatory. Edward grabbed my hand. "Bella is a part of our
family."
"Um… not legally."
"Bella's relationship with Grandma goes beyond an obligatory ten-minute
conversation every two months," Edward said in a mock-pleasant tone. "She's as much a
part of this family as you are, if not more so."
I turned my head and giggled into his shoulder. "Buuurn," I said for only him to hear.
A figure lingering in the hallway caught my attention. At first I thought she was
staring at me, but soon realized her gaze followed Edward. She watched him with an
invested curiosity, and was beyond stunning without a stitch of make-up. Long, brunette
hair, olive skin, and more curves than all three of her sisters combined. She was only a few
years older than me, but she was what I wanted to look like when I grew up. Poised. Strong.
Together.
"This should be about blood."
"This should be about whatever Grandma wants it to be. It's her stuff."
"Look, I'm not trying to be a bitch here, but what if you guys, like, break-up? What
happens to Granny's stuff then?"
"You got this," I whispered into Edward's ear and slipped away from the arguing
cousins.
I came to stand next to Carmen, unsure of what to say to the woman who had once
been Edward's sister. Settling on nothing, I watched Edward as she did and waited for her to
acknowledge me first.
"He must love you very much." Her voice had a deep, mature quality but was as soft
as warm caramel.
"Why do you say that?"
"Look how he gesticulates as he defends your honor."
"Yes. As far as love by gesticulation goes, I'm tops."
"Do you need him to defend your honor often?"
"If I cared enough, I'd do it myself. No offense to your sisters, but I don't give a crap
what they think of me." The same couldn't be said about Carmen. I didn't know why I
wanted this woman to like me. I just did. More to the point, B wanted her to like me.
The dimple that graced the corner of her lip told me I'd passed. "Don't take it
personally. They didn't want me here either." Perhaps that was it. We were the two outcasts
adopted into this world. "He's grown up to be quite handsome."
"I am shockingly well aware of that fact. Do you remember him?"
"Could you forget your childhood best friend?"
No. Aiden Case, who wouldn't kiss me in front of the Barbie Dream House. "I'm
Bella, by the way."
"I know. Elizabeth speaks of you often. She says that you're going to an Ivy League
college with Edward to study computer sciences."

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 "That's the dream."
For the first time, she turned to me. "Edward or computer science?"
The question surprised me. I wanted to say Edward. B wanted to say computer
science. "Can't I have them both?"
Her eyebrows quirked in some sort of non-answer. "I study Microbiology and
Immunology at Dartmouth."
"And what do you do with that kind of degree?"
"You change the world."
This is seriously the coolest chick ever, B said.
"Elizabeth says you can't cook."
"I… can try harder?" The statement curved into a question.
"Don't. That was a compliment." I didn't know how the hell it was, but coming from
her I believed it.
"Thanks."
"Bella! Just the girl I was looking for!" Mrs. Evan's called from above. I looked up to
find her standing behind the stairwell banister on the second floor. "Could you join me? I
have something to give you before the auction starts."
"I'll be right up." I gave Carmen a parting note before heading up the stairs:
"Introduce yourself to him. He wants to meet you too."
Mrs. Evans greeted me with a hug. "Where's my great-grandbaby?"
"Ask Jeeves. He wouldn't let Willow through the door. We had to tether him to the
porch like a dog."
Mrs. Evans sighed. "Well, that's what you get for hiring yokels from the local drama
club to pretend to be your house staff. We'll sort that out as soon as we're finished up here.
Aside from that snafu, are you enjoying yourself?"
"Absolutely. This house is freaking incredible and I can't believe all of this stuff is
yours."
"It won't be after today," she said, starting down the hallway.
"About that. Uh, there seemed to be some dissenting opinions about whether I
should–"
"Fiddlesticks. Don't you dare let those girls scare you away from what's rightfully
yours."
Rightfully mine? I was grateful but unsure how her stuff was rightfully my anything. "I
mean, they were just saying stuff about how they were worried Edward and I might break
up," I prompted. "And they were wondering what would happen if we did."
Mrs. Evans waved me off. "They don't understand how different you guys are from
their paltry, teen romances." That was the kind of thing people were always saying about
Edward and me – we were different. They never said why. "Can I tell you a secret?"
"Sure."
"You try to love all of your grandchildren equally." She gave me a knowing smirk and
continued into a room, while I stood dumbfounded.
If it hadn't been for the way she'd said it, it wouldn't be a secret at all. Of course
grandparents tried to love all their grandchildren the same. Perhaps some succeeded, but
how could Mrs. Evans not love Edward and Carmen a little bit more? They were special;
anyone could see it.
"Bella, you can come in."

  305  
 "Oh, right," I said. The room was quite large for what looked like an art studio.
There were shelves lining the walls with all manner of craft supplies and half-finished
projects. A matching couch and loveseat, along with a crafting table, were its only furniture,
and a flame lit the fireplace, making it quite cozy. "This is insane," I muttered, looking out a
set of French doors that led to a balcony. "Are all the rooms in this house this big and
awesome?"
"Heavens, no," Mrs. Evans said with a small laugh at my praise. "This is the master. I
prefer to sleep in one of the smaller bedrooms. Anyway, that is for you." She pointed to a
medium-sized white package on the loveseat. It was a two-piece box with a beige ribbon
closing the pieces together and, though it was cardboard, it had a gloss finish that made it
shine.
"Thanks," I said, reaching to tug at the ribbon.
"Wait!" Mrs. Evans said. "I don't want to be around when you open it."
I looked at her in alarm. "What do you mean?"
"Sometimes gift-giving is best shrouded in mystery. That's another piece of
grandmotherly advice."
"But when should I open it?"
"After you leave the house today, it's entirely up to you. Personally, I think it would
serve you well to wait a few months, but curiosity is my old friend and I doubt it'll be longer
than a few hours."
"Okay… Well, thanks in advance." I picked up the box and tucked it under my arm.
She was an odd bird, but I loved her dearly for it. "Mrs. Evans?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Can I ask you a question?"
"You know you always can."
"Carmen said it was a compliment that I didn't know how to cook. Why would she
say that?"
Mrs. Evans let out a heartfelt laugh. "Carmen, bless her heart, is an intransigent
feminist."
"You say that as if it's a bad thing. Aren't you a feminist?"
"I believe that men possess every ounce of the wit and potential women do," she
said with a wink. "And I believe the choices of all women should be respected, even if that
choice is to stay at home with children."
"And Carmen doesn't?" I asked, trying to pinpoint exactly what it was about her that
B had responded to.
Mrs. Evans pulled her lips to the side, considering me. Eventually she said, "Carmen
believes there are two types of women in the world: those who have families and those who
fulfill their potential."
I twirled the box's silk ribbon around with my finger. "Which category do you think
I'll fall into?"
"I have my predictions, but I think it's important you figure that out for yourself. Just
remember that things go in boxes," she glanced pointedly down to the item under my arm,
"not people."
"Okay," I said, nodding. "Thanks again for this."
"Believe me when I say, you may not want to thank me after you see what's inside."
She gave a gentle pat on my shoulder. "We better get back downstairs. The auction is about

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to start. Oh, and Bella? I almost forgot. You're not going to want to open that in front of
Edward."

All things considered, the auction had gone well. The infamous Sasha kicked off the
proceedings with a bang by picking up where her daughters left off in accusing me of gold
digging in front of the whole family (somehow, she was still more agreeable than I had
expected), Irina kept sneakily removing the tags marking the items I had selected, and lunch
was a sour affair with the dining room split between our two families. Carmen had made the
difference, crossing the divide so she could tell Carlisle, Esme, and especially Edward about
her adventures at Dartmouth. The look of pure happiness on the Cullens' faces as they
listened and asked her questions was worth more than all my new gold-dug bounty
combined.
My acquisitions were being packed away into a secured storage unit along with
Edward's – all except one. The white box was parked on the passenger side of my truck,
burning me with its mystery. At near sunset, the streets of Forks were quiet. I'd dropped
Edward and Willow off at the Cullen's house not fifteen minutes ago, so it was just the box
and me now. I tossed another peek at it as I navigated my way home.
What could be inside it? The ominous way Mrs. Evans had given it to me didn't help.
Who gave a gift she didn't want to see opened?
Just put yourself out of your misery and open it when you get home.
I turned my attention back to the road and sucked in a gasp as what looked like a
black cat streaked in front of me. I slammed on the breaks and jolted the wheel to the right
to avoid it, but that threw the whole thing out of whack. I lost complete control as I barreled
down the empty street, truck-bed fishtailing behind me. Any slight rotation of the steering
wheel only seemed to make it worse. Oh, my God! I was going to die!
Praying for mercy, I closed my eyes, pumped the brake, and jerked the wheel all the
way to the left. I felt the bed swing around and cringed in preparation for the car to either
halt or flip. The screeching tires were music to my ears. There was a sharp jolt and then
Firebolt was stationary. I opened one eye, then the other. I was facing the opposite direction,
coming to a stop with the help of a curb – the world's most dangerous parallel parking job.
I sat there, panting over the steering wheel until slowly, hesitantly, a smile flickered
onto my lips. "Yee-fucking-haw!" I found myself screaming into the brisk air, arching my
back in a triumphant stretch and running my fingers through my hair. "Oh, my fucking God!
And I mean that in the best way possible, dude! Holy shit! Wooo! Oh, my God. That was
insane!"
I dropped back down in my seat, completely flummoxed. Had that really just
happened? The tread marks burned into the street were pretty damning evidence. But you
know what wasn't etched into the street? The cat. I was a fucking humanitarian.
The white box had been flung from the seat during my truly excellent display of calm
under pressure and was now clumsily stationed between the floor and the glove
compartment. I grabbed it and yanked the ribbon, deciding now was as good a time as ever.
Under the lid, on top of a sheet of neatly packaged white tissue paper was a note:

No pressure.
Just in case.
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 I lifted the tissue paper and immediately wished I hadn't. White, lacey fabric,
unmistakable as that from a wedding dress, reached out to suffocate me. I pushed the box
away, unable to stumble my way out of Firebolt fast enough. Not even the adrenaline from
ten seconds ago could keep the panic at bay. I searched, desperate, for something, anything,
to stop it from drowning me.
Sometimes kismet happens.
Two junked-up motorcycles were sitting by a trashcan with a handwritten sign that
said, "For Sale, As Is." Before I could think twice, I tripped my way up to the house and
pounded on the door.
It was agony waiting for someone to answer. Hold it together. Hold it together. You're
going to be okay, B soothed in an unprecedented nurturing tone. Her voice had changed too. It
was deeper, warmer… like Carmen's.
"What the hell?" I asked.
It's all about the sisterhood from now on. Women unite!
Thankfully, the door opened before I had to listen to anymore of her drivel.
Unthankfully, it slammed shut before I could see who was behind it.
"Joey! Joey!" A voice behind the door called. "Bella Swan is at the front door!"
"That is not funny, you little twerp!"
"I'm serious! Come look for yourself!"
I was staring so intently at the door that I almost missed the slight rustling of a
window curtain on the left, where a stark white face materialized. I jolted back, ready to
scream. It was like a horror movie. He looked young – maybe thirteen or fourteen – and just
as quickly as he arrived, he was gone.
"Go in the kitchen. If you ruin this for me, I swear I will kill you." Did he know that
I could hear every word or did he just not care? A moment later he opened the door, now
wearing a backwards red baseball cap and a straightened shirt. "Hello, Bella," he said like we
were old friends.
"Do I know you?"
A pang of disappointment crossed his pimpled face before he recovered with a
spirited, "Maybe."
"What's your name?"
"Suspense."
"Suspense?"
"That's what you'll be in until you figure it out." It wasn't a slight. It was a line. He
accentuated it by smoothing a hand over his baseball cap.
I half-grinned and leaned against the porch-post. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I take it you
know who I am."
"Of course I do. You're the smartest girl in school." So he went to Forks High. A
sophomore, I guessed even though he was still awkwardly growing into his features. A
freshman would have never attempted that Suspense line.
"Is that what people say about me?"
He took his time choosing his words, clearly trying to give the answer I wanted to
hear. It was intriguing. "Among other things," he eventually said.
Whatever this was, a little fun to take the edge off at an underclassman's expense
never hurt. "Like what?"

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 "Like, that you're different from the other girls at school. You like what you like, you
wear what you wear, and you do what you want. You don't care what other people think of
you."
True. "What else do people say about me?"
"They say you're going places."
He was just sucking up now. "No way."
"Yeah. Like, if you pass a teacher in the hallway, they say, 'There's Bella Swan. She's
going places.'"
"What do people say about Edward?"
Suspense looked down to his feet and massaged his neck. "Uh, they say he's going
places, too."
The younger brother stuck his head out one of the hall doorways. "No, they don't.
They say he's the devil."
"Shut up, Jonathon!"
"The devil?" I repeated.
"It's not what you think," Suspense rushed to amend. "It's just that, uh, they say he
must have sold his soul to be with you."
"Ha! That's totally messed up." It was more like the other way around, but endlessly
amusing nonetheless. "Who is the 'they' in they?"
The poor boy hadn't quite regained his confidence yet. "I'm not supposed to say," he
said, shuffling his feet.
"Come on, Suspense," I said, trying to emulate Carmen's natural charisma. "Between
us friends."
He stopped shuffling and focused on the welcome mat. "I guess there's a few of us
at school, mostly in freshmen and sophomore year, who think you're the coolest."
Cool? Flattering, but so off it cracked me up. The Black-Eyed Peas were cool. Break
dancing was cool. Ice cream was cool. I was all geek. "You're kidding, right?"
"No."
"What," I chortled, "do you guys, like, sit around and talk about me or something?"
"Pretty much."
That caught me off guard. I wasn't laughing anymore. "How many of you?"
"I don't know. Fifteen, maybe."
"Huh." I officially did not know what to make of this. Small towns were weird. With
a parting wave goodbye, I turned to leave, beyond speechless.
"Wait! Why did you drop by?"
Right. We'd never gotten around to that. "I was thinking about buying the
motorcycles, but I'm good now." Apparently walking up to a stranger's house and getting
bizarre, unsolicited admiration was enough of a fix for my panic.
"If you want them, I can give you a bargain."
But maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to take them as a back-up. That wedding
dress was still waiting in the truck. "How much?"
"I'll give them to you for free in exchange for a date to homecoming."
Apparently he was going to make as much of this exchange as he could. "You are a
little freak, aren't you? I mean that in a good way."
"Is that a yes?" he asked hopefully.
"Not a chance, but I think it's adorable you tried."
"How about a kiss?"

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 "No."
"A kiss on the cheek?"
"Did you ever hear the story of how Edward beat up Mike Newton?"
"It'd be worth it."
"Still no."
"An autograph?"
"I would never do anything that pretentious."
"And that's why we love you."
"Come on, Suspense. There's got to be something we can swing."

I am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me
entirely. No one knows me or loves me completely. I have only myself.
– Simone de Beauvoir
I read the quote, the only part of Carmen's Myspace profile that was viewable to the
public, as my cursor hovered over the Add to Friends button. Would it be weird to ask her to
be my online friend after only meeting her once? Yes. Yes, it would, I decided, shutting my
laptop and sinking back on the couch. It was weird that I was stalking her online at all.
Charlie came in the back door and to amuse myself with a different topic I said,
"Hey, Dad. Did you know there's an entire subculture of underclassmen uber-nerds that
worship the ground I walk on?"
His moustache twitched. "Tell Edward he owes me twenty bucks."
"That's an odd reaction to finding out your daughter has a cult following."
"It was a bet. He swore it'd be another six months before you figured it out. I hardly
ever win these things."
"Is that what you and Edward do all day at the station? Sit around and make bets
about me?"
"Every once in a while we do it while playing darts or watching baseball."
Somehow I wasn't surprised. "How'd you find out?"
"A few tried out for the baseball team last year and I kept finding the little twerps
lurking around the house."
"That's creeptastic," I said, overjoyed. "It must be the whole forbidden fruit thing.
Older, taken, and the Police Chief's daughter. It's like a triple whammy."
"Right. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you're beautiful, smart as a whip,
and something about geek-chic."
"Aw, Dad. That's sweet, but if I have to listen to any more flattery today, my head
might explode." A girl's ego could only take so much.
"Your finding out about this wouldn't have anything to do with our two new house
guests, would it?"
"House guests?"
"I call them Deathtrap One and Deathtrap Two."
I sat up. "Okay, what you have to understand about that is they practically forced me
to take those bikes. They gave them to me for free. All I have to do is wave at them from
time to time in the hallway."
"No one appreciates the value of a good bargain like yours truly, but what the hell
did you think you were going to do with those two piles of rust?"
"I thought we could fix them up and learn to ride together."

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 Charlie scoffed. "You think I'm in a midlife crisis or something?"
"No," I said sweetly. "I just thought we needed some father-daughter time before I
went off to college."
He got a faraway look in his eye, like he was imagining the two of us, side-by-side,
riding the curves and taking names. "What the hell am I thinking?" he said abruptly.
"Edward would kill me. Actually kill me."
Eh. It was worth the shot.

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 Chapter 33: The First Time She Said the B-Word

I was starting to doubt I'd again have a lunch where eating and chatting with my
friends were my only obligations. College applications were due just around the corner and I
was still working my way through writing a convincing essay. I stared down at the piece of
paper in front of me, which only boasted a spectacular sketch of Harry Potter riding a
broomstick, and tried to tune out Alice and Angela's next-door conversation.
If only Alice wasn't such a loud mouth. "She kept saying small and the barista kept
correcting her by, like, repeating her order as a tall Salted Caramel Mocha Frappucino. And
you could just tell this girl thought she was so cool, not using the correct name. So, after she
was done ordering–"
"Hey, guys," I interjected, "could you keep it down? I need to have a draft by the end
of the week and I don't even have an idea."
"Of course, bitch. Anything to help," Alice said, no malice in her consent.
We were living in the era of Paris Hilton and The Simple Life, where bitch was a term
of endearment and not a slur used to oppress women for hundreds of years. Everything was
"Bitch, this" and "Bitch, that" and "That's hot" with Alice these days. I cussed on the regular,
but this was driving me bonkers (that and the voice in my head scathingly named after the
word in question). She had Jasper. Why was she still hanging out with us?
Now only catching bits and pieces of Alice's story, I went back to staring at Harry. It
was funny to think about how much I used to love him. I still did, of course, but it had
grown into a hobby, rather than an obsession. That was what time and responsibilities did to
obsessions, I supposed.
"What if I wrote a letter to Harry Potter?" I wondered aloud.
Edward looked up from Fellowship of the Ring; maybe not all obsessions could be
quelled. "You could. I'll even pretend to be Harry and write you a letter back."
"I meant for my essay. I could make it all sweet and sentimental. About how–"
"And then," Alice smacked the table, "if you can believe it, she had the nerve to
question Starbucks' brilliant marketing."
"About how I'll always have a place for him in my heart, but it's time to move–"
"She was like, 'I think it's ridiculous that Starbucks calls their small a tall.' " Alice was
using an absurdly high-pitched mocking voice that made me want to breathe fire.
"To move onto a different phase–"
"'Tall is the opposite of small. It's absurd.' And she actually used the word absurd,
like some snobby ho from Seattle."
"I get what you're going for," Edward said over Alice. "But what if they haven't read
Harry Potter?"
"First off, everyone has read Harry Potter, and even if they haven't, they know what it
is. The essay isn't about Harry Potter. It's about how I relate to it."
"I think it's risky."
"All the how-to guides say we should be taking risks. It's creative, culturally relevant,
and–"
"Then I was like, 'Bitch, please–' " the non-endearment form of bitch. " '–not
conforming to the Starbucks lingo makes you look like a fool. Go order your coffee from
the gas station if you feel that way.'"

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 "Oh, my God. I give up." I plugged my fingers into my ears, turned back to my
paper, and murmured into it, "Just shut up."
It went too quiet and I could feel three pairs of eyes boring into my forehead. I
unplugged my ears. "Yes?"
"You just said bitch," Alice said. "I thought you said you'd never say bitch."
"What?"
"You just said, 'Shut up, bitch.' "
"I did not say that."
"Yeah, you did."
"No, I didn't."
"I swear."
"Edward?" He didn't have to say anything – his astonished expression was
confirmation enough. "I can't believe I said that. I didn't mean to."
"It's not entirely your fault," Edward said, his shoulders sagging. "I don't know if this
helps, but you did just get Alice and me an A on our Sociology paper."
"What?"
"We're writing about the internalization of media through social contact. You just
proved our theory that even if you don't watch a particular TV show, you can still adopt
speech patterns and ethos through interaction with your friends."
"You should be honored," Alice chirped. "We wanted to see if it would work on a
really smart person and you were the first that came to mind."
Blood rushed to my cheeks. "You've been running an experiment on me this entire
time? Driving me crazy on purpose?"
Alice nodded proudly. Edward nodded guiltily.
"Well, congratulations on your A, bitches."
"Oh-Em-Gee!" Alice shrieked, hopping up from the table.
Edward's chair screeched. "Never in a million years did I think it was going to be
that fast," he said, joining her.
Alice was clapping with such enthusiasm, her hands looked like hummingbird wings.
"I know! I thought it was going to be days, not seconds! We're geniuses!"
"Or just really good at pushing Bella's buttons."
My pen slammed down. "What now?"
"I told you we were working on a Sociology paper on the internalization of media
through social contact," Edward practically shouted, pointing an eager finger in my face.
"When, in fact, we were working on a Psychology paper about the effects of peer persuasion
and the palliation of repeat behavior."
I grabbed his finger and twisted it. "Come again?"
"Ow. Okay, easy there. That's my favorite finger."
"Once you thought you'd said the b-word, you were more than happy to say it
again," Alice explained, bouncing (literally) to get in on the action.
I gave Edward's finger another twist. "Once I thought I'd said the b-word?"
"Please." He jerked his finger back. "I'm considering this payback for the dozens of
papers you've written about me. Like the short story for Creative Writing about the boy who
literally died of embarrassment when his trunks slipped off going down the water slide. I
know for a fact that everyone understood who 'Edmund' was."
Okay, that was legitimate.

  313  
 I turned on Angela, who was sitting back, obviously having a good time. "And were
you in on this?"
Her grin turned smug. "Your English paper comparing preachers' daughters
throughout fiction to, and I quote, 'an anonymous but very real' modern day preacher's
daughter. Mr. Berty didn't look at me the same for weeks."
Legit.
"And what's your excuse?" I asked Alice.
"I actually am a bitch, so I need no excuse."
Legit in an Alice kind of way.
The two self-satisfied miscreants sat back down. You would have thought they'd
discovered the cure for cancer.
"Please go back to hating each other," I said.
And in the meantime, I was never cussing again.

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 Chapter 34: The First Time He Climbed Through Her Window

My bedroom was in shambles following a frantic, hour-long search for my diary.

Two years ago, after Edward had discovered it under my mattress, I'd hidden it somewhere
no one would ever find it… including myself, apparently. I remembered thinking how clever
I was hiding it there; I just couldn't remember where "there" was.
"I know you weren't around when I hid my diary," I said to Willow, who was happily
lounging on a pile of clean clothes I had ripped out of the closet, "but if you could use your
powers of super-smell to help me out, it would be greatly appreciated. No? Well, it was
worth a try."
If you get married, Edward will legally own fifty percent of your diary.
"So not in the mood, B," I said, closing my eyes and meditating back to 2004. "I am
Bella Swan. I am fifteen years old. I just caught my boyfriend reading my diary because he's a
snooping arsehole. I kick him out of the house and then what do I do?"
The image of a shoebox floated to the front of my mind. Where did I know that
shoebox from? The bathroom, idiot.
I slapped a hand to my forehead and took off, heading straight for the cupboard
under the sink. The shoebox was buried in there with the words "Girl Supplies" scribbled all
over it. I always was a little brilliant. The familiar floral print of a mini-notebook greeted me,
inviting me in like an old friend, begging me to flip through its pages as I wandered back
into my room.

I know I've only known him for like a week, but I really feel as if I KNOW him…

I hate my life. I was such a fool thinking Edward could ever fall in love with me…

But seriously, how hard is it to get a freakin' kiss? I want a movie kiss! Something romantic
and sweet. I just can't help the urge! It's growing!

"Get used to it, honey," I snorted. "Edward holds out on everything." I wanted to
read the book in-depth, but I was a girl on a mission. Finally I found the last entry, dated
February 14, 2003.

Dear Diary,

OMG! OMG! Things r going to be normal between me + Edward. It feels soooooo good! today
was like magic. never been soooo happy + excited. He came to the dance wearing a Harry
Potter costume. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT! + he told me he loves me! Like rly loves me! + I love him!

Ahhh!
More deets later,

Bella Cullen

The details had never come, the last quarter of the book left blank. Today I was
going to rectify that. Not with dance details I could hardly remember, but with some actual
important drama.

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11/6/2005
Dear… Thing,

I'm going to call you Thing because I can't bring myself to admit I'm writing a diary entry at
the age of seventeen. That's right. I'm seventeen and a senior. Talk about a time-jump. I am
also going crazy.

No, this is not the usual teenage angst you're used to reading. I'm legitimately going crazy. I
went to the doctor again today because the panic attacks are getting worse. You have no
idea what I'm talking about, but that's okay because you're a book. Even worse, B is beginning
to wear me down.

I'm starting to wonder… do I really want to get m-worded (that stands for a word that
starts with m and ends with arriage)? Do NOT mistake that for me not wanting to spend
eternity with Edward. Hell will freeze over before I break up with him. As B always puts it,
"Yes to Edward. No to m-wordage."

What is wrong with me? You of all people know that the only thing I have ever wanted is to
m-word Edward. I even used to sign my name as Bella Cullen. So why is this happening to me?
Why is my body telling me no?

I feel sick over it.

I'm writing this down because the doctor said there isn't much she can do for me because
she's not a psychiatrist. I told her I wasn't ready for a shrink yet (since Charlie would most
definitely have to sign off), and she recommended that writing this all out might help me. She
also recommended I talk it out with Edward (we'l l consider that Plan F - for f*cked).

So here I am, writing. I'm trying to figure out… if I want to get m-worded, I guess. And
now I turn to the greatest intermediary of all time: list-making.

Reasons to Get M-Worded:

1) SEX!
2) It would make Edward happy
3) We're going to spend the rest of our lives together anyway
4) I love him with my whole heart and know I don't want to be with anyone else, ever
5) Everyone expects it
6) Tax breaks
7) I'l l get to live and be with my best friend for the rest of my life, although that will happen
anyway, so I'm not sure if it counts

Reasons Not to Get M-Worded:

1) We're young
2) I'm not sure I'm ready
3)

I racked my brain for more. Those were the only two I could think of that personally
applied to me, so I started listing the ones I had read about online.

3) The relationship changes

4) 50/50 divorce rate
5) Loss of personal space
6) Sex stops being sexy
7) The heat dies after a while
8) Ties you down

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9) Haven't sown wild oats
10) Problems committing

And one more reason I had to acknowledge.

11) B hates the idea, and I guess her opinion counts for something

My pen hovered over the list as I reread number eleven. "B, why do you think that?"
No response.
Of course she'd evaporate when I actually wanted to hear her opinion. I put the pen
down and mulled over the question. Why did B hate the idea of marriage? Looking at the
list, there were far more obstacles that didn't apply to me at all than did.
You're a moron.
"Then help me out here."
You have to figure it out. I only know what you know.
"What does that mean?"
Willow's cold nose touched my hand and I jerked up, becoming aware of my
surroundings. "Hey, boy," I said, scratching his ears. 7:15, the clock read. I'd been at this for
over an hour and still had my bedroom to put back together. My brain was beginning to
hurt, so I looked back down at my diary and wrote:

I think I'm done talking to an inanimate object for the day. Thanks for listening and not
judging (too much).

Bella

P.S. You may or may not be hearing from me again. What I mean is, Edward might kill me after
he sees what I did to my hair this morning to stop one of my panic attacks.

Let's just say, I have a dangerous way of coping.

"Oh. Em. Gee! Bella, you're a blonde!"

I tucked my newly dyed hair behind my ear. My hairdresser had called it Bombshell.
"Do you like it?" I asked, setting my books on the lab table across from Alice and Angela.
The former did a delightful little jig in her chair. The latter stared at me with an open mouth.
"It looks ghetto-fabulous," Alice said, using her new word for anything she was fond
of.
Angela dragged her jaw off the table to ask, "What did Edward say?"
"That's the fun part," I said, sitting on my stool. "We get to find out together."
"Uh-uh. No." Angela shook her head adamantly. "I don't want to be in the vicinity.
I'm going to sit with Emmett and Rosalie."
"Wait!" I grasped her hand from across the table. "I need you to protect me."
"He is going to freak out."
"I know. Don't let him kill me."
"You guys, it's not going to be a problem," Alice said. "She's a total hottie now. He's
going to be ecstatic. Look, here he comes."
I froze. "Where is he?"
"At the door."

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 My nerve was shot. Slipping from the stool, I headed straight to Emmett.
"Looking good, Bella," he said genially.
"Shh! Don't ever let Edward hear you say that." Emmett nodded, zipped his lips, and
threw away the key. We had an understanding about Edward's jealousy threshold.
"Where's Bella?" I heard Edward ask.
"I'm sure she'll be back in a second," Alice answered with a hint of playfulness.
The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and after a few deep breaths and a pep talk
from B, I turned around with my head held high to find Edward doodling in his notebook.
"Hey," I said, reclaiming my seat.
Edward smiled. "Hey." He gave me my usual good-morning kiss and went back to
his notebook. No yelling. No crying. Not even a spark of surprise. Alice, Angela, and I
shared a confused look.
I tuned out the morning announcements as they came over the intercom, watching
Edward sketch a new t-shirt design and wondering if it was possible he hadn't noticed my
hair. No, this was Swirl. He noticed when I trimmed my split-ends. It was more likely that
traitor, Charlie, had called him about it yesterday, and he'd devised this as his own brand of
torture, ignoring it into an apology. Well, two could play that game. If he was going to ignore
my hair, I was going to ignore his ignoring. We would see who cracked first.
Edward's hand moved to the edge of the notebook and he jotted down two words:
Look around.

My head popped up. The whole class was staring at me.

"Let's give Bella a round of applause," said Mrs. Jennings, our Homeroom
supervisor, to which the class complied. I hid behind Edward. He shifted so I was visible
again. The applause died down when I gave a sort-of half wave.
"What happened?" I asked, when everyone had turned back to his or her business.
"Do I need to go to the office or something?"
Alice was glaring daggers at me. "As if you don't know."
"I don't!"
"They just announced the nominees for Homecoming Court," Edward said.
"So?"
"So…" Edward was using his this-is-so-obvious voice. "You got nominated."
"Nominated for what?"
"Homecoming Queen," Alice snapped. "You got nominated for Homecoming
Queen. This is outrageous. When I was the leader of the Populars, we had checks and
balances in place to make sure losers like Bella would never reign."
"Alice," Edward said dangerously.
"I've been working toward this since kindergarten and she gets my nomination. I can't
have a moment to stew in my jealousy?"
"A moment," he warned.
Alice closed her eyes and a range of emotions played across her face. When she
opened them again, she was her usual perky self. "You know what? We could pull this off if
we act now."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, still reeling from this bizarre turn of events.
Who the hell would nominate me? Déjà vu. This was like the plot of She's All That. Or Carrie.
Or Carrie 2.
"We go underground to get the votes and use the element of surprise to win."

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 "No way. I'm going to the office after class and withdrawing. I don't want any part of
this. From what I hear, pig's blood is really hard to wash out of your hair."
Edward tapped my shoulder to get my attention. I expected him to make some quip
about how it would be especially hard now that my hair was dyed such a light and
unappealing color, but he said, "You realize this is a legitimate nomination, not some prank,
right?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Bella, you're the only person in this school who has a fucking fan club." He'd been
very vocal about his disdain for "Swan's Army" since I'd found out about it last month.
"That's right," Alice said thoughtfully. "You're a geek's wet dream."
Edward flushed red for some reason and went back to working on his sketch.
"Look, you won't have to lift a finger. I'll do the work! All you have to do is be your
usual geeky self, so any losers who aren't already in love with you will be bowing at your feet
by Homecoming." Alice was scary when she put her mind to something she wanted, no
matter how shallow and frivolous.
"My answer is no, but out of curiosity, what would you get out of doing that?"
"Being the best friend of the Homecoming Queen is reward enough." I looked at
Angela and shook my head. "And there's also the whole revenge aspect. I never did get them
back for ousting me."
"Still, no."
"Bella, we only have one shot. By Prom, they'll have figured out how to regain the
system."
I placed a hand on Edward's forearm. "My knight in shining armor, my protector,
my Aragorn, please stop the madness."
"Why? I think you should be Homecoming Queen," he said without looking up.
I cocked my head back, stumped by his answer. "What?"
"As a matter of fact," he continued, "it's suddenly become very important to my own
vanity that I date the Homecoming Queen. So, you better not lose, or else."
I looked over his head to Angela, completely at a loss. She motioned to her hair.
Oh. Oh! "This isn't about Homecoming at all. You're pissed about my hair."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I, myself, was thinking about going behind
your back to dye my hair black."
"Do it," I shot back.
He slammed his pencil to the table and wheeled to face me, ready for battle. "Don't
think I won't."
"Well, I don't think you will, but that's not the point. You can do whatever you want.
It's your hair."
"We're in a relationship. It's our hair."
B made an ugly, ugly noise of descent. I threw my head back in exasperation. "It's
just hair. It's not like I chopped it all off."
"Yeah, thank God." Edward said dramatically. "When are you going to change it
back?"
"Maybe in a few weeks. I want to go to the midnight showing of Goblet of Fire as
Luna Lovegood."
"She doesn't show up until Order of the Phoenix!"
"She was at Hogwarts during GoF, she just wasn't mentioned in the book."
Alice clapped to regain our attention. "Focus people."

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 Edward exhaled. "Hair debacle aside, I really think you should run," he said. "High
school is about making memories and this would be a pretty good one. I'd love to watch you
get crowned."
"That's sweet, but let me be clear. There is no way, under any circumstances, ever, in
this reality or any other, that I am staying in the race for Homecoming Queen."

Edward had offered to give me a strip tease if I didn't withdraw my name from the
Homecoming race. Technically, Alice had offered it for him and Edward had agreed under
the condition of no full frontal, which meant I was going to see Edward's behind in all its
firm, rounded, naked glory. It had been an easy call.
That was how I found myself at a Port Angeles salon with Alice and Angela the
afternoon of Homecoming, getting primped and pampered. I sat in a hydraulic barber chair
with a hairdresser behind me, painstakingly ironing each blonde strip into spiraling curls. We
were to finish getting ready and dressed here, meet our boys for dinner, and then head back
down to Forks in a limo. Edward, citing a desire to make my big night perfect, had sprung
for the whole Homecoming enchilada. It seemed important to him, so tonight, win or lose, I
was going to treat him like a king.
Typical Bella. Always doing things she doesn't want to do to please other people.
That's called a relationship, B. He does things he doesn't like for me, too.
"Isn't that the most delicious thing you've ever had in your mouth?" Alice asked,
referring to my salon-provided strawberry daiquiri – virgin, just like me.
I was happy for the distraction. "No, the most delicious thing I've ever had in my
mouth would be Edward's tongue."
"It pains me that sentence didn't end with a different adjective."
"Noun. An adjective is what modifies a noun or pronoun, like a descriptor."
"I'm not going to take grammar advice from someone who's been in a relationship
for four years and still hasn't rounded third base."
"It's not advice. Facts, Alice. Facts."
She nudged Angela, who was enjoying her hair styling with eyes closed. "What about
you and Ben?"
"We've been together for over two years and he's still scared that if he touches me
below the neck, he'll go to hell," she said blandly.
To take the heat off Angela, I asked, "I assume you and Jasper have done the dirty
even though you've only been dating for – what is it now – five months?"
"We didn't wait five days. When you know it, you know it, ladies. No point in letting
cobwebs grow on your who-ha," Alice mused, bringing her daiquiri to her lips. "God, I can't
wait to see him. It's been like a month. I'm totally getting mine tonight."
Angela and I shared an eye-roll. Only part of it was envy.
"Okay, sweets, your curls are done," my hairdresser said, spinning me around so I
could see myself in the mirror. It was still a shock to find my face lined in a fair mane,
instead of the dark I was used to.
"I look like Shirley Temple," I said, completely underwhelmed by the curls' effect.
"That's because you haven't picked a style, sweets. I think something up would look
simple and elegant."
"But the important thing is what you want to look like on your wedding day," Alice
said, as if no big deal.

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 "Uh, I, uh, hmm." In the mirror, my face was turning red.
"You have to think… do I want my future husband to see me in a fancy dress with
the same hairstyle I'm going to be walking down the aisle with? Because you need him to be
especially surprised and breath-taken on your wedding day. Whatever you don't want for
your wedding, you wear for Homecoming and Prom."
The salon was suddenly stifling hot as the beginnings of a panic attack itched under
my skin. I needed to preempt it and now. I would not ruin this night for Edward. Ever since
the attack in the truck on the way to Mrs. Evans', I kept an emergency kit close at hand. I
made a mad dash for my purse hanging on the coat rack by the door, ripping off the smock,
and called over my shoulder, "Have to make a phone call. Back in a minute."
"Wait! Don't touch your curls!" I heard Alice order before the salon door closed
behind me. The first thing I did when I was outside was run my fingers through my hair.
Getting on Alice's bad side was an anti-panic-attack plus.
A cool evening gust hit me like a dose of much-needed medicine, biting through my
long sleeves. I clutched my purse like a life vest as I searched for a safe place to be crazy, and
the streetlamps led me to an alley behind the salon, where I dropped down, facing a wall that
boxed me in. The moon and two dingy lights on the back of the building were enough to
illuminate the contents of my purse. What was in a basket case's emergency kit? Toilet paper,
bubbles, post-it notes, shaving cream, and a fake banana. I went for the shaving cream.
A shadow cast over the part of the brick alley wall I'd selected for my non-
permanent act of vandalism, and then shifted as someone, too tall to be one of my friends,
moved closer. I was suddenly very aware that I was alone in a dark, isolated alley and there
was nowhere to run. My breathing changed from erratic to heavy, the difference between the
panic related to an attack and the panic related to an attack-attack.
If there was one good thing about being a police chief's daughter, it was that he'd
prepared me for a moment like this. Subtly, so as not to give away the element of surprise,
my hand shifted from the shaving cream to the Taser Charlie had bestowed upon me for my
sixteenth birthday. I also had a can of pepper spray and a rape whistle. Whoever this jerk
was, whatever he wanted, he was in for a rude awakening.
I waited, waited until he was just close enough, before I sprung into motion, the
panic giving me the courage I needed to face my attacker. I spun on my heel, aiming the
Taser at his legs and recognized the shoes just in the nick of time.
"Prancing pixie porn, Edward," I yelped, flinging the device before it could hit his
leg. "I almost Tased the snot out of you."
"Prancing pixie what?" he said.
"I'm trying to cuss less."
"That's adorable. And so is that." He nodded to my Taser.
"It'll bring you to your knees," I said, circling around him to pick it up and stuff it
back in my purse.
"It's pink."
"Charlie has style. What are you doing here?"
He was wearing his everyday clothes, not the pristine suit I was sure he had in his
car. "I saw you running out of the salon. You looked upset."
"I thought you weren't going to get to Port Angeles for another hour."
"I have a surprise planned that I was on my way to setting up. Are you going to keep
asking me useless questions or are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

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 I yanked my hair in frustration, my fingers getting caught in the curls. I'd forgotten
about those wretched things and was embarrassed to be standing in front of him with a half-
finished look that made me feel like a ten-year-old. "I don't even know where to begin."
"It's all this Homecoming stuff, isn't it? It's starting to get to you."
"It's a culmination of a lot of things." The panic was threatening to reemerge and B
was talking so fast I couldn't understand her. Throwing my hands up in the air, sick of the
debilitating mental state I'd been trying to manage over the past four months, I said, "Okay,
I'm done with this. Just done. Hurt feelings be darned, me and you, we're going to have a
good, long talk. Right here, right now."
Completely oblivious to the cause of my irritation, Edward said, "I think that's fair
and I can start by saying I understand if you're mad at me for pushing you to do
Homecoming. I've thought about it, and it was wrong for me to put so much pressure on
you when you so clearly wanted out of it."
"No, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at me. Haven't you noticed I've been… weird," for
lack of a better term, "lately?"
Edward looked off into the distance. "Have you been weird?"
"Yes, Edward. I'm out of my mind. I need help."
"Sure." The word confused me; it wasn't as simple as that. Why wouldn't he look in
my eyes?
"Edward, I need you to focus on me."
"Don't panic," he said slowly.
"That is exactly what I'm trying not to do."
"But please step behind me." As he said it, I heard a shoe click the pavement behind
me. I whipped around.
Two men were approaching us from the alley entrance. One was heavier set with
brown hair. The other was tall and lanky. Both wore dirty jeans and heavy jackets.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?" Edward asked warily.
"Nah, I don't think so," the brown-haired one said, but he and his friend kept
coming.
Edward put a hand on my arm. "You sure?"
"Well, maybe Dill back there," he said. "Me? I'm more interested in your girl."
This time, I didn't have the panic to make me recklessly brave. This time, stone cold
fear reached out its claws and squeezed me until I thought I was going to asphyxiate. These
were not good men and Edward was in the line of fire.
"I'm interested in the girl, too," the tall one said. His gaze traveled behind Edward
and stopped on me, eyes dead with a spark of terrifying excitement. "Hi, Blondie."
Edward maneuvered between us. "You'll have to go through me first."
"Not a problem." A silver, sharp blade slipped out of Brown Hair's sleeve, and it
wasn't like the movies, where he spent minutes circling us, bantering. One instant the knife
was gleaming in the store's spotlight, the next it was pressed against Edward's cheek, Brown
Hair's sneer inches from his face.
"Wait. Wait. Wait!" I shrieked, fumbling inside my purse for my Taser. My hand
landed on the fake banana. "I have money. I have whatever you want. Just don't – don't hurt
him."
My pleas went largely ignored. The tall one took a step toward me. "Ask yourself,
brother. Is she worth a knife to the face?"
Edward didn't hesitate. "She's worth a million knives to the face."

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 "Good to know."
"NO!" The word flew from my mouth before I knew what had happened. The blade
dripped red and Edward palmed his cheek – a warning slice.
We were out of time. I turned my purse over, dumping the contents to the ground.
Edward used the distraction to charge Brown Hair. Weaponless and out-sized, Edward's
only chance was me. The tall one made a grab for my arm, but I had already located the
canister of pepper spray. I squeezed the release over my shoulder, closing my eyes against
the blast, hoping against all hope it would hold the tall one off. There was no time to check.
My hand closed around the Taser and I lit up the air with a charge. It emitted a terrifying,
powerful, low buzz. I rushed Brown Hair, sticking the Taser straight in his gut. His pain-
filled bark pierced the night sky as he went down. Again, I descended on him, showing no
remorse.
When I was sure he was down for good, I spun, ready to Tase the tall one. He was
nowhere to be found. I expected Edward to grab my hand and run, but instead he crawled
over to my discarded belongings and started scavenging through them.
"Just leave it," I wheezed, the pepper spray starting to take its toll.
"If he gets your wallet, he'll know where to find you." Edward struggled to keep his
eyes open as he scraped the ground. Blood was streaming freely from the cut, dripping all
the way down his neck. I held my Taser at the ready.
Finally, his hands landed on what he was searching for and we ran, propping each
other up and pushing each other forward, our coughs ringing through the streets along with
our wild footsteps. We collapsed inside the salon's door, falling to the ground in a heap of
arms and legs and were met with a moment of stunned silence before the crowd broke into a
flurry of questions and exclamations.
"Call the police!" I rasped, not taking my eyes off Edward. "Oh, God, your cheek."
The wind and momentum from running had blown blood into his hair. I balled my long
sleeve over my fist and held it up to the wound to stop the gushing. My whole arm shook as
I did it, and then I realized it was my entire body, and Edward's, too.
With one hand he held my fist to his face and with the other he pulled me into his
chest, clinging to me for dear life. "You're okay. We're okay," he said into my ear. "We're
okay. We're okay. We're okay…"
I buried my face in his neck. Tears swam in my eyes as he rocked us back and forth,
grasping, clutching, praying. The wet drops poured over, running down my cheek, mixing
with his blood.
Slowly, I unfurled my fist. My blood-soaked sleeve bounced back into place, and I let
my bare hand rest against his face. His blood was my blood, our life, and as it trickled over
my fingers, I felt alive.
We had fought and survived. We were okay.

It took about twenty minutes and the consolation of Alice, Angela, and two police
officers to finally pry us off that floor. A mess of things happened from there: One of the
salon's clean robes became my Homecoming gown. Granola bars and soda became our
Homecoming feast. Frantic parents became our Homecoming photo booth. Answering
police questions became our coronation. Our first dance became Edward getting stitches,
and our last became positively identifying our attackers.

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 The one thing that remained consistent the rest of the night was Edward's refusal to
let me out of arm's reach. He gave new definition to the phrase "couldn't keep his hands off
me." I was even in the room when they threaded the stitches through his cheek, standing by
his side, holding his hand, unable to watch. The slice had been clean, but the doctor told us
to expect some light scarring: a permanent reminder of what my gamophobia had done to
Edward.
We drove back to Forks in the back of Charlie's cruiser, both of us deemed unfit to
get behind the wheel of a car until the shock wore off. A motorcade followed us: Esme in
the Mercedes, Carlisle in my truck, and Mrs. Evans in the Volvo. The cruiser was silent, but
not in a stifling way. I sat against Edward with his arm slung over my shoulder.
Around eleven, Edward received a text from Jasper. No matter how much we had
begged, our friends wouldn't leave the salon to go to Homecoming. Edward had finally
asked one of the police officers to escort them out.
"You won," Edward said. There was no good response.
When Charlie pulled in front of the Cullen's front door, neither Edward or I budged,
not even when Esme, Carlisle, and Mrs. Evans got out of their respective vehicles and
approached ours. Charlie cleared his throat. "It's, um, it's that time, Edward."
"Can you give us a moment, Coach?"
Charlie semi-balked at the request to leave his cruiser, but acquiesced when he
realized Edward was dead serious. How many get-out-of-jail-free cards had our little
adventure earned us?
"Hey, you hunk of burning whatever." I twirled a strand of hair around my finger
like an airheaded ditz. "You wanna make out with the Homecoming Queen in the back of
her dad's car?"
His smile didn't reach his eyes.
"Edward, they got the guys," I said, stroking his arm. "We're going to be safe."
"I still don't like the idea of leaving you alone tonight," he said. "Or sleeping alone,
myself."
I leaned up and kissed him, soft and feathery. "If you want, I'll call you before I go to
bed. We can sleep with our cell phones next to our ears."
"Better yet," Edward unbuckled his seat belt, "text me when Coach goes to bed and
unlock your window."
He pressed a kiss to my forehead and exited the vehicle. Apparently I was going to
have a late-night visitor. Instead of a bleak ride home, my night seemed to be looking up.
My first order of business after I walked into the house was a shower. I washed the
curls out of my hair, now tangled and untamed from the evening's events, and scrubbed
Edward's blood from my skin. I had tried my best to get it all off at the hospital, but it had
found its way under my fingernails and other, harder-to-reach places.
Since we were having company, I opted for a cute pair of cotton pajama pants and a
spaghetti-strap tank top. Willow gave me a nod of approval. He was lying on his cushion
without his usual panting smile, as if he could tell something was off.
"Hey, Bells?" Charlie called from outside my room.
"You can come in."
He opened the door and took in my appearance, checking me for any hidden scratch
marks or bruises, I supposed. "Going to bed?"
"That's the plan," I lied.
"You don't want to watch something on the TV or… something?"

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 "I'm actually really tired." That wasn't a lie.
"Do you… do you," he scratched the back of his neck, "do you have anything you
want to talk about?"
"What do you mean?"
"About what happened tonight. Do you feel like talking about it?"
His concern touched me. I would never forget the way he'd rushed into the salon,
desperately searching for proof that I was safe and sound. You could see the relief cross his
face when he'd finally located me and pulled me into an unyielding embrace. Charlie was not
usually a man who expressed his emotions physically, but he had held onto me then as if I
was the only thing keeping him grounded.
"Honestly, Dad, I'm kind of talked out after all those police questions. Maybe
tomorrow?"
He nodded. "All right. I'm going to hit the hay, too. Uh, you going to be okay in
here?"
"I'll be fine. Promise. Willow will watch over me."
"Okay, then." Charlie walked over and placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm really
proud of what you did tonight, fighting off those guys."
I blushed, again taken aback by his display of affection. "Well, it was because of your
paranoia that I had the tools to fight. I would have been useless with just my fists." I
immediately regretted the praise. "God, I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I? You're
going to send me off to college with a bazooka, aren't you?"
Charlie's mustache twitched. "By the time you go off to college, I will have drilled
into your head the dangers of secluded off-street alleys."
So he hadn't overlooked that part of the story. I gave a small, innocuous, wide-eyed
smile that was hopefully remorseful. "Consider this lesson learned?"
"We'll see." With one last squeeze of my shoulder, he left, closing the door behind
him.
As Edward had instructed, I sent him a text and unlocked the window, then propped
it open and stuck my head outside. Goosebumps from the cold prickled my arms, but I was
curious how he planned to get up here. There was a tree outside my window; was he spry
enough to climb it without killing himself? Thirty minutes later, I found out the answer was
apparently yes.
Willow alerted me to his arrival by running over to the window and giving a happy
whine. A moment later, Edward's head peeked through, followed by the rest of his body. He
landed, not entirely ungraceful, on his feet. It had been altogether a rather quiet and
effortless display of masculinity.
"Impressed?" Edward asked, dusting his hands on his pants before giving Willow a
pat on the head. He, too, had taken a shower in the hour since we'd last seen each other and
replaced the Steri-Strips covering his stitches with a blue Bandaid.
"Not so much," I said, spinning in my computer chair. "See, I did the whole
crawling-through-your-significant-other's-window-thing a whole year ago. But I will give you
points for not using a ladder. How did you get here?"
"Your truck."
"Your parents are bound to notice my big red truck missing from their driveway."
"I expect they will. I left a note explaining."
"You think they're going to be pacified with a note?"

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 "I don't really care one way or another. I think we're old enough to start making
decisions for ourselves."
Huh. That had never occurred to me before. Says the girl who's on the brink of getting
engaged, B added.
"So this is what your room looks like at night," Edward said, touching a perfume
bottle on my dresser. "I like the little glowy orbs when they're lit up."
"Think of it as mood lighting."
Edward smirked and took a step toward me. "That sounds promising."
"Let me set the scene," I said, standing up. "Forks High, 2005 Homecoming. We
walk into the gym, all spiffed up and glamorous, and are stunned by how the Homecoming
committee has managed to transform it into a winter wonderland. Suddenly, we hear our
song come on." And because magic existed (and so did remote-control CD players),
*NSYNC's “God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You” quietly came over my
sound system. "I turn to you and ask, 'Can I have this dance?' "
The strand of Christmas lights I had above my bed made his eyes sparkle. "Naturally,
I play coy," he said, grinning down at his feet and shuffling them. "I've never had a girl ask
me to dance before."
"That's not true. Alice asked you in the middle of our first dance."
"And that is what we call a mood killer."
"Right. Forget I said anything." I took the last few steps between us, grabbed his
hand, and led him to a small, open space in front of my bed. "It goes like this," I said,
putting his hands on my waist. "Think you can handle it?"
"Thinking has no place in dancing."
"That is absolutely correct," I circled my arms around his neck as he leisurely rotated
us. Back in eighth grade, he had been so shy and smelled of Old Spice. Now, he was
confident in his movements and smelled purely of Edward.
"This is nice," he said after a few seconds.
"I wanted at least one good thing to remember this night by."
"I'm sorry we didn't make it to Homecoming."
"I should say the same thing to you. I know how much you were looking forward to
it." A little bout of guilt rolled in my stomach. If only I hadn't gone into that alley…
"We still have Prom." I couldn't meet his eyes, so I focused on the blue Bandaid. "I
know I was supposed to keep the strips on for a week, but this was better than looking at the
stitches," he said, answering my unasked question. My guilt multiplied by ten. "How are you
handling everything?"
I bit my lip as I thought through my answer. I felt like I was doing fine, all things
considered, except for the guilt and the little flashbacks that kept coming back to haunt me:
the way Brown Hair's knife slid out of his jacket sleeve, or the tall guy's voice as he called me
Blondie. I was dyeing my hair back to brunette tomorrow.
When I said as much, Edward's hand slid up my back until it was touching the damp
ends of my hair. "I think you should keep it this way for a while longer."
"Why?" I asked, surprised.
"I don't want those assholes to hold any power over you. You should live your life
like this never happened as much as you can." He grinned. "That, and it's kind of growing on
me."
"You lie."
"Scout's honor."

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 "You were never a boy scout."
"Ah. But I was referring to the character in To Kill a Mocking–"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't strain yourself with haphazard literary references for the
sake of being witty," I laughed. "I'll keep it. How about you? How are you doing?"
"Not great."
"Care to elaborate?"
"It's just… when I think about how they almost…" His jaw went taut and his eyes
darkened. "I just want to… I want to…" He stopped spinning us. There was so much
behind his eyes: pain, rage, bloodlust, hatred. Desire. The same desire that was always there
for me. I was grateful those thugs hadn't scared it out of him.
I ran my fingers along his jaw. "I'm yours, Edward. Only yours." B made a tsk of
protestation. I told her to fluck off. There was no space for her in this room with Edward
and me.
Edward reached for the hand that was still lingering on his jaw. We watched together
as our hands melded into one, united. It was a gentle moment, one that no one but the two
of us would have understood. His eyes swept past our fingers and pierced into mine. A
second later, he swooped down and captured my lips in a scorching kiss that set my nerves
aflame.
The strength behind his kiss pushed me backwards, tiny steps, until my knees hit the
bed. "Is it weird that we're doing this in front of Willow?" I asked, scooting back onto the
mattress.
Edward pursued me with hunger. "He was homeless for two years. He's seen worse."
He wasted no time crashing his lips back to mine. His hands were everywhere: the nape of
my neck, the arch in my back, my thigh, my cheek, my wrist. I was having a hard time
keeping up. In all our years together, I'd never seen him this intense, this… animalistic. It
was giving me heart palpitations and making me warm in places I shouldn't be.
“God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You” ended, replaced with a sultry
love ballad that I vaguely remembered from a scene in Romeo + Juliet. If possible, it elevated
Edward's passion to levels beyond heaven.
"What is this CD?" he asked.
"It's a mix you made back in ninth grade to express your love for me."
"I've never appreciated my younger self more." A second later, his lips disappeared.
My eyes snapped open to find him watching me from about a foot away. "Can I try
something?"
With the way he was looking at me, "Anything."
"Lie down." If I wasn't breathless before…
He hovered above me, gathering his confidence. I combed back a lock of bronze
hair that had fallen over his forehead, uttering my complete love and trust as I did so. It did
the trick.
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, his hands ushered my shirt up my torso until my
stomach was exposed. He grazed beneath my breasts with his long fingers, teasing but never
touching, and then caressed my skin all the way back down to the waistline of my pajama
pants. His thumbs slipped beneath the elastic band, circling the points in my pelvic bone.
With a graceful arc, he shifted back and dipped his head to my abdomen, brushing,
nuzzling, licking, leaving trails of fire in his lips' wake. My mind went blank as I felt a
different kind of panic stir in me, the kind that turned the world to blissful chaos. My fingers
found their way into his hair as he covered every centimeter with his lips. How could

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something not involving our most intimate parts be so sensual? A moan escaped when he
swirled his tongue in my belly button.
That's when it occurred to me. I wouldn't mind losing my virginity in a twin-sized
bed with Charlie in the next room after a traumatic event, and maybe he wouldn't either
right now, but I knew he would regret it tomorrow. "Edward, you have to stop," I said
feebly.
"Give me a few more seconds at the altar of Bella."
"You're driving me crazy."
His laugh vibrated through my whole body before he brought himself back up to my
level and brushed my lips. I gripped the back of his neck, deepening the kiss with my tongue.
He responded in kind. With a shift and a grunt, he was in place. Yes! A little innocent dry
humpage never hurt anyone's virginity. I bent my knees so he could get better traction.
Edward suddenly jerked back and scrambled to the edge of the bed. "Now we really
do have to stop or it's not going to be pretty."
"Flying fudge monkeys! You don't start something and not finish it," I gasped.
"I only have the one pair of pants."
I flung myself back on the pillows, beyond sexually frustrated at this point – I was
sexually enraged. "What was that?"
"Hero-worship."
"Hero?" I repeated incredulously.
"You saved our lives tonight, Bella."
"We saved each other," I corrected, not wanting to think about what would have
happened if he hadn't been with me. "What you just did was mean. Now I'm all hot and
bothered."
"You're not the only one."
The suggestion we just go ahead and take care of each other played on my lips, but
again with the twin-sized bed and the Charlie and the trauma. That train of thought led me
to another. "You've always wanted to get married on your nineteenth birthday, right?" It was
out before I'd even had time to think through saying the m-word. I was pleasantly surprised
to find the panic at bay. Perhaps my body had had enough adrenaline for the night.
"Yes. Five hundred eighty-four more days left on the countdown," Edward said,
situating himself into our usual sleeping position, the one we'd used the summer before last
in Florida. "Why? Did you have a different date in mind?"
"No, it's not that. I was just thinking. We're moving in together at the start of our
freshman year of college." I rested my head on his chest. "That's a whole year of living in the
same house before we get married."
"The thought has crossed my mind."
"And you're still planning on keeping your virginity vow?"
"Absolutely."
I had no idea how the hell he was going to stay abstinent with only his razor-thin
self-control standing in the way, especially when the altar of Bella was going to be open for
business twenty-four/seven, should he wish to make a donation in my collection plate. "I
think you're nuts."
His chuckle wafted over the top of my hair. "'Nuts' is an interesting term to use
during this discussion."

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 There was a shirt wrinkle next to my face. As I smoothed it out, I asked, "Do you
remember when we were drunk and you told me your fantasy about how you imagined our
first time?"
"Yes."
"Can you tell it to me again, like a bedtime story?"
"I thought we were trying to get un-hot and un-bothered."
"I want to dream about it."
He pulled me closer. "Only because that's the hottest thing you could have possibly
said to me and there are worse things you could dream about tonight. It starts with you
walking down the aisle, wearing earned white…"
With his voice in my ear, his body under my fingers, his scent in my nose, his taste
on my lips, and his face vivid behind my closed eyes, I drifted off to sleep.
Warm. Safe. Loved.
Bothered.

The next morning, I woke up to the sun dancing on my face and the most
comfortable pillow ever. "Are you awake?" I mumbled into Edward's chest.
He swept my hair to the side. "Yes."
"Are – are those voices downstairs?"
"My parents are here."
I shot up. "WHAT?"
"They showed up about an hour after your dad walked in and saw us. Don't worry;
he wasn't mad. I think the part about being fully clothed helped."
"Someone sounds pissed."
"I really don't care." He looked exhausted but resolute.
I ran my fingers tenderly over the blue Band-Aid. The skin around it was inflamed,
with the hint of a bruise creeping through. "Did you sleep?"
"I got a few hours. More importantly, how did you sleep?"
"I always sleep better with you here."
We settled against the headboard in reflective silence for a few blissful moments
before he said, "I've had to go to the bathroom for the last three hours."
I snorted a laugh and rolled off him. "You are valiant. Go. Go pee, my knight in
shining armor."
He made a run for it, not bothering to close the door on his way out and allowing
our parents' voices to leak up the stairs. I slipped out of the bed and tiptoed my way to the
landing.
"–have to handle this," Carlisle was saying. "It can't become a habit."
"I don't think anything happened," Charlie said. "If it had, Edward would have
jumped to high heaven when I walked in on them this morning. Instead, he looked me dead
in the eye and nodded."
"Perhaps Edward's simply not scared of you anymore." My eyebrows crinkled at the
vitriol in Carlisle's voice. I'd never heard him so upset before, not even when the roles were
reversed and I'd snuck in through Edward's window.
Mrs. Evans' voice rose among the fray. "Or perhaps they're lying about still being
virgins."
This was riveting stuff, so I took a seat.

  329  
 "I would know if my son had lost his virginity. He'd have told me."
"Would he?" Mrs. Evans asked.
"Yes, he would. We have an open relationship and he'd have questions he'd need me
to answer." No one responded, and I imagined they were all avoiding Carlisle's gaze. I, at
least, believed him. "Fine, don't believe me. But Bella would certainly talk to Charlie or
Renee."
Charlie laughed. "Have you met my daughter?"
"Frankly, I don't know why you're so bothered," Mrs. Evans said. "They'll be doing
this and much more when they go off to college, and we all know he's on the verge of asking
her to marry him, if he hasn't already."
At the mention of the m-word, I clammed up in anticipation of the panic. One, two,
three seconds. Nothing. I lifted my hand; it wasn't trembling.
"What do you mean if he hasn't already?"
"All I'm saying is that it's not outside the realm of possibility that he's popped the
question."
My breathing was steady.
"Did he… Did you… The ring, does he have it?" There was a short pause. "I can't
believe this. He has the ring!"
My heart rate was normal.
"He asked me for it in confidence," Mrs. Evans said. "What was I supposed to do?"
My abdomen was pain free. Had I been cured?
"It wasn't your ring to just give to him."
"It wasn't yours either," Mrs. Evans said firmly. "It was your mother's and she
entrusted me to…"
I jumped as a floorboard squeaked behind me. Edward was standing there, a
horrified expression plastered to his face.
"And who were you to decide the time was right?"
"Honey," Esme said gently, "please stop shouting."
I held a finger to my lips and patted the empty space next to me, indicating he
should settle in for the show.
Edward shook his head. He pointed to me, tugged on his ear, and then held up his
ring finger. Did you hear about the ring?
A small smile flickered on my lips. He was so cute. "I'll pretend to be surprised," I
whispered.
His palm smacked his forehead, but Carlisle's voice drew me back to their
conversation with one very familiar accusation. "They're too young. They don't understand
what it means to be married."
"Now that's plain weird. I'm looking at Carlisle Cullen but my ex-wife's voice just
came out of his mouth," Charlie said. "I thought the four of us were together on this. When
did you adopt her mantra?"
"Last night when I almost lost my son at the age of seventeen and realized I'm not
done." Carlisle's voice broke. I rested my chin on my arms, suddenly very sad. "I'm not
done. I haven't taught him everything a father's supposed to, yet. And why should I have?
He's only seventeen. He's young. They're young. Too young…" He drifted off and everyone
was quiet.
Edward tapped on my shoulder and motioned to the room as Esme said, "This is all
probably moot. Surely Edward wouldn't propose without asking Charlie first."

  330  
 I took my time standing up, not wanting to miss Charlie's response. "Don't you all
look at me like that," he said. "Edward hasn't told me anything specific. Well, at least not
recently. It's not as if it's a secret that he wants to marry her. He'll have them down the aisle
by nineteen if he holds any kind of persuasion."
"And you really don't have a problem with that?" Carlisle asked.
It was Edward's turn to eavesdrop. He stood stock-still, waiting for Charlie's answer
with a yearning in his eyes. I knew why. He'd been working toward this answer since he'd
volunteered as a deputy sheriff in eighth grade.
"Edward isn't the same thirteen year old boy who walked into my office four years
ago, blithering openly about how much he loves my daughter and how they're soul mates.
Their relationship is deeper than that now – private. He's grown into a man–"
"You think I don't know that?" Carlisle interrupted.
"–and there is no other man on this planet I'd so completely trust my daughter with,
especially after last night."
Edward met my gaze and bestowed upon me the most breathtaking smile. I gripped
his hand, beyond happy that something, anything, could make him smile like that after what
happened.
"Enough of this," Esme broke in. "We've gotten completely off track. We're here to
figure out as a team what action, if any, we should take about Edward sneaking out.
Personally, I think Mother is right. We have less than a year to make some kind of impact in
these kids' lives. We need to think big picture and start teaching them things that matter,
things about life."
"Esme, please see reason. If we let this slide, what's next?"
"If our son wants to take comfort in the arms of the girl he loves on the night he was
attacked and almost killed, then who are we to deny him? We both accepted a long time ago
that Bella was going to be his wife and now you need to accept that Edward is becoming a
man."
"Look, I understand what you're feeling, Carlisle. Really, I do," Charlie said. "If
you're still interested in being an assistant baseball coach, I'll teach you how to take out your
frustrations by throwing baseballs at Edward and making it seem like an accident."
"You throw baseballs at my son?"
"Softly and only in the name of passive-aggressiveness."
Edward gave my hand a tug and we headed back into my bedroom. He led me past
Willow to the rocking chair where we so often sat together. As he pulled me onto his lap, I
thought about all the things Carlisle had said. There was one statement in particular that had
really made an impression. They don't understand what it means to be married. I didn't know about
Edward, but something about it rang true for me.
I had no idea what was about to happen to me. When I had thought of marriage as a
kid, it was just the natural progression of a relationship. Everyone did it. When I thought
about it now, it was this big, scary hole full of unanswered questions and incessant
possibilities. What did it mean to be married? As far as I could tell, it was different for
everyone. To some people it was a vow, to others a contract. What would it be for us and
how would it change my life?
"Bella," Edward said, "why is it that we never talk about what it's going to be like
when we're married?"
Again, I waited for the rush of panic. There was nothing except for B encouraging
me to answer the question honestly, since Carlisle had obviously put us on the same train of

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thought. "I think…" I took a deep breath. "I think I'm afraid our answers aren't going to
match."
"What do you mean?"
I fiddled with the hairs at the back of his neck. "Like, I wonder what you're looking
for in a wife and if I'll fit into that."
"Oh, that's easy. I'm looking for the total June Cleaver package. Cooking, cleaning,
child rearing. I want it all, Baby."
B gagged over and over and over again.
"And that was a joke," Edward said slowly. He nudged one of the corners of my
mouth and tried to make it smile. "Have I ever given you the impression that I want to
marry you for your culinary skills?" He gave my bedroom a once-over. "Or your cleaning
skills? Because, to be honest, you don't possess much of either."
"Hey!" I slapped his shoulder. "That was out of order."
"Okay. You're giving me mixed signals here, so I'm just going to do the talking. What
do I want in a wife? She's sitting right here in my lap. Nothing more. Nothing less. You are
my perfect partner in crime: smart, capable, strong, and I know you're going to take us places
I'd never dreamed we could go."
Edward was saying everything B wanted to hear, but I was left confused. He was the
one taking us places; I was just along for the ride.
"Do you want to know why I want to marry you?" I asked.
He leaned in and whispered into my ear, "I'm burning with curiosity."
If I took the marriage out of it, if I focused only on the part of spending the rest of
our lives together, I had so much to say, but a knock on my bedroom door cut me off
before I could even start.
"Kids? It's Charlie. Make yourselves decent."
I rolled my eyes. "Come in, Coach," Edward called, trying to stand up. I kept my
butt firmly on his lap.
Charlie opened the door. "Hi," he said, awkwardly avoiding looking directly at us, as
if that would make it any less real. "Edward, your parents are downstairs. They'd like you to
go home with them."
"Does it have to be right this minute?"
"Bella, I know you know Carlisle's on edge. I heard you and Edward eavesdropping."
"I ain't been droppin' no eaves, sir, honest." Edward's Samwise Gamgee was too
dead-on. He'd definitely practiced that before. "I was just cutting the grass under the window
there, if you'll–"
"A little late for trimming the verge, don't you think?" Charlie responded, deepening
his voice to Gandalf's baritone.
I looked between the two most important men in my life, Ringers, through and
through. Eventually, I landed on Edward. There was no need for pretty speeches when he
demonstrated with each breath everything that told me our life together was going to be
amazing, married or not. No matter how he grew or changed, he was always going to be
Swirl in his core and I loved him for that.

"Your Majesty," Angela said, interrupting the best book ever written. "I come
bearing my famous homemade caramel popcorn and a crown fit for a queen."

  332  
 I bounced up, closing my diary. In it, young Bella had just discovered Daniel
Radcliffe and was fretting over the ethics of liking two boys. It was cute and ridiculous. "Tell
me everything!"
"Where do you want me to begin?" she asked, sitting cross-legged on the end of my
bed and placing the bowl of popcorn between us. I didn't hesitate to grab a handful. This
stuff was made of magic. "I can start from the beginning, with how it felt being tossed out
on our behinds by the police when our best friends had almost been murdered. Or I can
jump straight to the part where our entire night was miserable because we were worried
about you."
"Neither of those," I said with false aloofness. "Who won king?'
"Mike Newton."
"Ugh. I'm glad I missed it, then," I said, stuffing a few caramel-covered morsels in
my mouth. "Well, under better circumstances. What'd you tell everyone about why I wasn't
there?" I was hoping for some highbrow fiction, like I was protesting the entire institution of
the Homecoming Monarchy.
Angela picked at a string on my blanket. "I didn't actually have to tell them anything.
You know that girl who was working on Alice at the salon? Apparently, she's Samantha's
cousin. You know how these things travel."
I fell back against the headboard, disappointed. "Everyone knows the truth?"
"Afraid so. Jessica had the nerve to suggest that because you weren't there, you
forfeited the crown. You should have seen Alice go all Sandra Bullock on her ass." How was
I going to take the pity looks come tomorrow? Angela reached into her bag and handed me a
tiara. It was metal, with an elaborate fake-diamond centerpiece. "I'm sorry you missed your
crowning moment."
"That wasn't my crowning moment," I mumbled, running my fingers along the
crown's prongs. "My crowning moment was the one where I somehow convinced Edward
to love me."
"That's adorable."
"He's going to propose, you know?"
"I think the whole town knows. When do you think he's going to do it?"
If I knew Swirl… "Valentine's Day. It'll definitely be Valentine's Day."
"Are you going to say yes?"
"Of course."
Angela's eyebrows rose above her glasses. "Why of course?"
"Why the why?"
"I'm just curious."
My eyes narrowed. This wasn't curiosity. She was onto something. "Edward's earned
it."
"I don't think Edward thinks of you as a grade."
"So you think I should say no?"
"I didn't say that."
"So you think I should say yes."
"I didn't say that either."
I huffed. "Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that I saw the look on your face yesterday when Alice started talking
about weddings." Angela did have a talent for being annoyingly perceptive. "You had the
fear of God in your eyes."

  333  
 "That was so yesterday's freak out," I said with an offhand wave.
"Bella, come on. I'm not judging you, but we should talk about this. You haven't
been yourself lately."
"Why would you say that?"
"Have you looked in a mirror since Sunday?"
A clump of my blonde hair had fallen over my shoulder. I sat up and flipped it
behind me so I couldn't see it anymore. "Okay, for real? I have been freaking out big time
over this marriage thing, but yesterday changed things. I'm fine now, I promise."
"What does getting assaulted have to do with marriage? Was it a bonding experience
or something?"
"I guess it put things in perspective. You know how they say your life flashes before
your eyes when you're about to die?" She nodded. "Yesterday, all I could see was Edward
willing to protect me with his life. I have to think, doesn't someone who loves me that much
deserve for me to stand up in front of the world and tell everyone I love him that much,
too?"
Angela reached over and squeezed my knee in a way that indicated I was not going
to like what she was about to say. "A wedding is one day. A marriage is the rest of your
lives."
"And we're going to be together for the rest of our lives, marriage or not," I said
forcefully. "So why put it off? Unless you think we won't make it. Is that what you're trying
to say?"
"No," she responded patiently. "As a matter of fact, can I tell you something that is
going to sound self-centered and off-topic but actually has a point relevant to this
conversation?"
"Sure." I reached back into the bowl for another cluster of popcorn.
"I'm breaking up with Ben."
"NO!" I gasped. I was such a selfish friend. I hadn't even known there was
something wrong. "Why? You love him so much! You are so meant to be!"
Angela smiled and shook her head. "No, we're not. I mean, maybe we can revisit the
possibility in the future after we're both back from college, but, for now, our relationship has
run its course. You know what I mean?"
"No!"
"Exactly," Angela said, a finger pointed at my answer, "because you and Edward are
different from the rest of us."
There was that word again, different. "How?"
"Because after four plus years, you're still going strong."
"But why is that?"
"Isn't that the kind of question only you or Edward can answer?"
"I don't know," I said, eating my popcorn pensively. "If you think we're going to
make it, why do you think I should put off the wedding?"
"I didn't say you should or shouldn't do anything. I'm trying to help you think it
through." She was better than B, at least. "Here's my parting thoughts on the subject, and
then I'll shut up. If you're only doing this for him, and not for yourself, there's a problem.
But even if you're not ready to get married yet, that doesn't mean you're never going to be
ready to get married. We both know Edward is going to want you to want it as much as he
does."

  334  
 "And I will," I said, deciding then and there I would be ready by Valentine's Day. I'd
find a way to conquer my gamophobia, even if I had to go see a shrink. For now, I held up a
finger and opened my diary to where I had made my list, then picked up a pen from my
dresser and made a few small modifications.

Reasons Not to Get M-Worded: – and reasons they're not a problem for me

3) The relationship changes – He's Swirl and I'm me. M-word won't change who we are.
10) Problems committing – We're different from everyone else.

There. Two obstacles easily ruled out in a day. One by one I was going to knock
these suckers out until I figured out what the root of my problem was. It had to be one of
the eleven. What else was there? I gave a last glance at the list and made one more addition.

9) Haven't sown wild oats – Come on. Who really thinks this is a problem for us?

"You're going to make a great maid of honor," I said, closing the book.
"I get to be maid of honor?"
"As if there was ever a question."
Angela laughed. "Well, my first duty in my role as maid of honor is to inform you
that even though I know you're Port Angeles'd out after last night, you're still going up there
for the midnight showing of Goblet of Fire."
"Absolutely not," I said, my body revolting against the image of the knife floating
around in my mind. "Why?"
"Emmett's decided to go dressed as Mad-Eye, the non-evil version, so he can protect
you and Edward at all costs. You know you won't be able to say no to him. And also,"
Angela picked up my discarded crown, "you think Luna would ever be caught dead wearing
this?"
"No."
"She's going to have to get over that. Because you weren't crowned at Homecoming,
all the people who voted for you are coming out for the showing."
"No."
"Yep."
"No."
"They want to crown you Potter Queen."
"No."
"You're going."
"There's not a chance in Hogwarts."

Edward had offered to give me a strip tease if I went to the midnight showing of
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, this time with the full frontal. With much reluctance and a
few tears, I had declined his offer but still gone to the showing. I didn't want them to have
any power over me, either.
Angela hadn't been joking. It seemed like a quarter of the school was here to rally
behind me and another quarter of the school was here because it was the place to be.
Students who didn't even have tickets had come out just to wait with us in line. It was a
geek's paradise.

  335  
 It had been a playful six hours leading up to the theater granting us entry, with a
wizard's chess tournament and an impromptu game of Quidditch, and the fun hadn't ended
when we'd gotten inside the theater. Since I was the Potter Queen, I'd gotten to judge a
costume contest and be serenaded with Swan is Our Queen, a heavily edited rendition of
Weasley is Our King. Edward had taken that one in stride.
Now, snuggled between my boyfriend and my best friend as I watched the movie,
and with the support of a bunch of people I hardly knew, I'd never felt so comfortable and
giddy. There was just one thing that was irking me.
I leaned over to Angela and whispered. "Does Cedric Diggory look familiar to you?"
"I was just thinking the same thing. Who does he remind me of?"
"I think he kind of looks like… I mean, he kind of has the same coloring as…"
"Jasper," Edward finished for me.
Emmett turned around in front of us. "I thought Jasper, too," he said not nearly
quiet enough.
Alice's face appeared on the other side of Angela. "I'm the expert among us and it's
totally Jasper."
By the rumblings in the crowd, the theater was in consensus.

  336  
 Chapter 35: The First Time He Proposed

"On an inhale, push your arms up toward the ceiling. Palms are parallel and facing
each other."
Of the two yoga instructors at the Forks Community Center, this one was easily my
favorite. She was only a few years older than me and left the weird mumbo-jumbo at home.
Alice had told me it was offensive to call yoga-speak weird mumbo-jumbo, but I held my
ground that an exercise had no right to be offended. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't
help picturing Willow humping my next-door neighbor's garden gnome whenever the other
lady told us to do downward-facing dog.
"Exhale, extending your arms to either side of your body and holding them out in
opposite directions."
"Big day coming up on Tuesday," Angela whispered as we followed the instructor.
"The biggest," I whispered back. Alice shot us a dirty look, but after months of
doing this three times a week, she knew the drill. We didn't talk during the core workout out
of respect for the art (and because we were too busy panting), but the warm-up and cool-
down were fair game. The blob of sweat on my shirt would tell anyone we were in the latter.
"Are you nervous?" Angela asked.
"No, I'm perfectly calm." That was what the yoga was about for me: control and
balance. Angela was here as a newly single woman trying to reclaim her strength. Alice came
out of boredom, trendiness, and the increased flexibility for better sex positions. Part of me
might have been here for that last one, too. I wanted to be prepared for my wedding night,
which would be closer than ever come Tuesday.
"What are you going to wear?"
"Bring yourself into a squat, pointing your toes out to the sides. Relax your torso,
and bring your palms out in front of you."
I had definitely improved since we started, but I couldn't quite achieve the same
grace as our instructor, or even Alice and Angela. "My homecoming dress," I answered with
a slight strain in my voice. "It's perfect for the occasion and he never had the chance to see
me in it because of… well, you know."
Angela nodded once and turned her full attention back to the instructor. The assault
in Port Angeles couldn't always be avoided in our everyday conversations, but our friends
did their bests not to scratch whenever it itched. After a week of navigating the many
inquiries from our fellow classmates, many of whom Edward and I had never spoken to
before, we asked everyone for privacy. We wanted to move on. If we needed to talk, we had
each other and our shrinks.
Carlisle, in particular, had insisted we visit psychiatrists to properly process what had
happened in Port Angeles. Edward had only needed to see his shrink for a few sessions. Me?
I had bigger fish to fry, and I wasn't about to waste the opportunity to do it discreetly. I was
attacking my gamophobia head-on, and I was winning. Gone were my panic attacks. Gone
was my fear. It was all about control and balance. I was ready.
After a few minutes of meditation, the yoga instructor called the class to a close.
Alice let out one last dramatically long breath before her eyes popped open and she spun to
me. "Oh. Em. Gee. I can't believe the next time I see you you're going to have a rock on
your finger. You're so, so, so lucky."

  337  
 "I'll see you Monday," I said, rolling up my mat.
"Tomorrow's Senior Ditch Day. I figured I might as well ditch Monday and Tuesday
as well, so I can spend a super long weekend with Jasper for Valentine's Day. I'm driving up
tomorrow as a surprise."
"Aren't you worried about getting suspended?"
"Nope. My mom's calling me in. She says senior year is useless anyway."
"That's… completely inaccurate."
Alice shrugged. "Whatever. So what's Edward's plan for V-day?"
"I have no idea, except that he's planning to propose. But don't tell him I know that.
I mean, practically the whole town knows he's proposing on Tuesday, but he doesn't know
that I know he's proposing on Tuesday. I want him to be surprised."
"Surprised that you're surprised?" Angela asked. "Only you won't be surprised. That's
confusing."
"It's really not. I just have to pretend to be surprised."
"You suck at pretending," Alice pointed out.
"That's why I've been practicing."
"Your reaction can't be rehearsed. It'll come off as totally fake." Alice got down on
one knee in front of me. "Pretend I'm Edward."
"Wait. What?"
She pulled a ring off her pinky and held it out to me. Angela snickered into her shirt.
"Bella Whatever-Your-Middle-Name-Is Swan. I love you. Marry me?"
"God, no," I said, looking self-consciously around the room. Mostly everyone had
left; the ones that remained weren't paying us any attention.
Alice frowned. "That hurts."
"Oh, come on," I said. "You hardly tried. Edward's going to deliver a speech he's
probably been writing since the day we met. Oh! Do you guys want to see what I'm giving
him after he proposes?"
We grabbed our mats and walked to where our backpacks lined the wall, and I pulled
from mine the small, emerald green box I'd picked up from the jeweler on my way to yoga.
Male engagement rings weren't exactly popular in today's culture, but I knew Edward
was exactly the kind of man who would want to wear one. Carved all along the white gold
band was a swirl pattern, and engraved inside were the words Amin mela lle. I was so proud
of this ring. Edward was always making grand gestures, and this was going to be mine to
him.
"What do you think?" I asked, holding it up so they could see.
"He's going to love it, Bella," Angela said, and then she squealed. "I can't believe
you're going to be engaged in less than a week!"
A small smile spread over my lips. I could. I was ready.

"I hear today's Senior Ditch Day," Charlie said, folding up his newspaper and placing
it next to his morning coffee.
"You don't have to worry about that, Dad. The school threatened to suspend anyone
who participates, so Edward and I decided not to risk it."
"That's a very wise and mature decision," he said, nodding. "But here's the thing. I
thought because you're a senior and I'm almost a senior citizen, we could go out together."
I almost choked on my bacon. "What?"

  338  
 "I have a little surprised planned and, uh, I already called you in sick, so it's too late
to back out now."
He was so excited, I couldn't say no. Who was I kidding? I was excited, too. "Have I
ever told you you're the coolest dad ever?"
"Once or twice."
"Prepare to hear it a lot today, because you are seriously the coolest dad ever."
"Seriously the coolest dad?" he mocked.
"Seriously. Let me just text Edward so he knows I won't be there today."
"No need. Carlisle and Esme are taking him out. Before you say anything, they are
copying my idea, so I'm still the coolest dad ever."
"I never doubted for a second." I slipped my cellphone back in my pocket. "What
brought this on?"
"We just want to spend a little time with you kids before the big day." He drained the
contents of his coffee mug, then asked, "Are you finished eating?"
My eggs were half gone and I'd only taken a bite out of my toast, but I could tell he
wanted me to be done. "Totally full," I said, wiping my hands off on my napkin. "What's
first?"
"Your graduation present."
"I don't graduate until June."
"I want you to have time to enjoy it before you go off to college," he said, emitting
an unusually youthful glow.
I narrowed my eyes. What was he up to? "You did something naughty, didn't you?"
"Follow me." He took me out to the driveway where my truck was parked with a
tarp thrown over the bed, covering something up… or two somethings.
I grabbed Charlie's arm. "Dad." Nothing else came out. I didn't want to jinx it in case
what I thought was in there wasn't in there.
He chuckled and, with a swish, yanked off the tarp. My hand flew to my mouth to
stifle my scream at the two refurbished motorcycles gleaming with what dim light broke
through the Forks mist. They were hardly recognizable as the beat-up clunkers I'd picked up
months ago.
"How did you ever afford this?" I squeaked through my fingers. I was so torn. The
last few months had been all about gaining balance and control in my life. These motorcycles
were a gateway to anything but.
"I exchanged a favor for a good deal at Dowling's. He's a tough bargain, that John,
but as Police Chief, I carry some weight. Do you, uh, like them?"
I threw my arms around his neck. "Daddy, this is the best gift you could have
possibly given me right now." And I meant it with my whole heart, realizing how much I
missed the part of myself that could be impulsive and silly. Better still, this was Charlie-
sanctioned crazy, so how dangerous could it be? I placed a kiss on his cheek and released
him. "Thank you so, so much."
He scratched the back of his neck. "You're welcome, but they come with
stipulations. You never ride without a helmet."
"Done," I said immediately.
"And your bike stays in the state of Washington, even when you're off at college."
"Why?"
The clang of keys spinning around Charlie's key-ring preceded, "Gotta have some
incentive for you to visit your old man."

  339  
 My head sunk to the side. "Dad, did you do this because you're worried I won't come
home?"
He grunted and my heart cracked. Aside from Edward, he was the person I loved
most in this world, the best father a girl could ask for. "Edward and I are going to come
back all the time. I promise."
"Sure thing. Hop in the truck. I will be the one driving," he said to my extreme eye-
roll. "We have a lesson set up with an instructor in Port Angeles at nine. We'll hit up a lunch
joint after that, then you can pick an activity for the afternoon. I know you won't want to go
shopping, but I was thinking of maybe catching a flick or bowling."
"I want to go fishing."
A look of pure amusement crossed his face. "Fishing. You want to go fishing?"
"Yes. It's your Senior Ditch Day, too," I said, nudging him on the arm. "And, uh… I
am my father's daughter, after all."
He gave me one of his rare, tender side-grins that meant so much to me. "Well, okay
then. I'll pack up the gear."

"How's Carlisle working out as assistant baseball coach?" I asked, casting my baited
hook into the water.
"Carlisle," Charlie growled. "Let me tell you something about Carlisle Cullen. The
man cannot stop talking about stupid paper airplanes when he's coaching – and I use that
term lightly. He spouts out this nonsense about trajectory and aerodynamics. It's all a bunch
of bull. Of course, Edward sits there, like the little brown-noser he is, and pretends to drink
it all up. It's a farce. We both know he's smarter than that."
I suppressed a giggle at Charlie's rant, undoubtedly brought on by his and Carlisle's
unspoken rivalry for Edward's respect. Edward was the son Charlie never had and the only
son Carlisle ever had. Poor Edward couldn't catch a break. "I'm sure he's genuinely
interested. Carlisle's been teaching him the art of paper airplanes since he was kid." Charlie
let out a harrumph. "Do you think you'll coach next season?"
"I suppose. We'll hafta have something to do when you and Edward go off to
college. Carlisle may be annoying, but he's a good guy."
And your best friend, I mentally added.
We fell into a comfortable lull, waiting for signs we'd hooked a fish in a place Charlie
called "the Olympic Peninsula's best kept secret." It was peace after a morning of adventure
and excitement, the perfect location to reclaim my balance and control.
Riding a motorcycle was like nothing I'd ever experienced – the wind breaking
against my body, the sensation of something so powerful underneath my legs, the
exhilaration. Charlie hadn't enjoyed it quite as much, but he'd put on a game face for my
benefit. I couldn't wait for our next fix. Lesson. I meant lesson.
"I have a question," Charlie piped up. "Are you planning to dye your hair back
anytime soon?"
That was out of nowhere. "I have an appointment coming up. Why do you ask?"
He kept his eyes decidedly focused on his line. "I reckon Edward always planned on
proposing to a brunette."
The statement lingered between us. "Does it bother you I'm about to get engaged?"
"Nah," he said without a second thought. "I've known this day was coming for a few
years now."

  340  
 "You're not worried we're too young?"
"Nope. I'm not like your mother. I never figured you to be, either. You're more
Swan than Higgenbotham, and Swans mate for life." I bit my lip, recalling how I'd written
that exact thing in Edward's yearbook. "There's never been any doubt in mind regarding
Edward's feelings toward you. You guys are different from other high school couples. You're
going to make it. I know you are."
"You know what's funny? People always tell Edward and me that we're different, but
they never say why."
"Ya just are." That was about the least useful answer in the history of the world.
"With all that said, you're seventeen and about to be engaged. I think it's time for your old
man to butt out."
"What do you mean?"
Charlie reached into his pocket and took out two things: a box of condoms and a
business card. My eyes bulged when he handed them to me.
"This is the address and phone number of a lady-doctor. You have an appointment
with her tomorrow. The condoms are for if you get frisky before the birth control kicks in.
Don't you dare get pregnant. Consider this my retirement from sex talks."
"We're waiting until we're married," I said automatically, searching for a place to
stow the condoms and my mortification. Why was this conversation happening on a teeny,
tiny boat in the middle of nowhere?
He held up one of his hands. "As of this moment, it is no longer my business what
you and Edward do in your personal life, and that goes for other non-sex-related decisions.
Six more months and you guys are out on your own in an entirely different state. Esme,
Carlisle, and I have decided we'd rather you start practicing adult responsibility now, while
we're here to guide you if you need it."
"Thanks?"
"And Bella? I do not ever, ever want to know the details of your sex life. I repeat, as
of this moment it is no longer my business. I do not want to know."
"Really not a problem, Dad."
"And Bella? Don't ever, ever let me catch you doing it inside my house."

"Even though I'm afraid of marriage, I profoundly and completely accept and love
myself," I said, tapping my right eyebrow with my index and middle finger before moving to
my eye socket to do the same thing. "Even though I'm afraid of marriage, I profoundly and
completely accept and love myself."
This exercise had seemed utterly ridiculous when my shrink first put me up to it, but
when she'd told me it was the drug-free approach that helped free her of a similar fear of
marriage, I was convinced.
"As a child of divorce, I had to learn to love myself again before I could give my love
completely to another," she had said. She actually had a lot to say about being a child of
divorce – it was intriguing stuff and something I had never fully considered. Of course my
parents' divorce had had a negative effect on me, even if I was too young to remember it. B
wasn't as sold on the idea but, having nothing better to offer, kept mostly quiet.
She did find my sensory affirmations embarrassing and useless, however, even after
months of my doing them daily, and made sure to tell me as I tapped above my upper lip.
"Even though I'm afraid of marriage, I profoundly and completely accept and love myself."

  341  
 It took a few more minutes to complete the exercise, which included more tapping, a
fair amount of eye-rolling (the completely serious kind), and humming the first two bars of
Happy Birthday. When I was finished, my eyes fluttered open and my bedroom came back
into view.
I stood at my dresser's vanity mirror, putting on the final touches for my Valentine's
Day date. A smile stretched the length of my lips at the memory of standing in front of this
very mirror before my first date with Edward, debating whether I was pretty or not.
You look beautiful, B said.
"Thank you." We had come to something of an accord over the last month. Now
when she spoke, I listened and acknowledged. In this case, it wasn't a hard thing to do
because I felt beautiful. Brunette waves cascaded past my shoulders and smoky eyes made
my whole face smolder. That awkward girl from eighth grade was nowhere to be found. I
looked like a woman, one that profoundly and completely accepted and loved herself.
The clock said Edward would be here in about five minutes and I decided not to
spend them staring at myself in the mirror. I headed for the rocking chair next to my
window, where a medium-sized box labeled with an Amazon sticker was waiting for me. I
swept it up and fell into the chair so that my legs were hanging over the arm. I could admire
my shoes from this angle – my favorite pair of Converse Chucks. I'd worn them to dress
down my homecoming dress, a short, strapless black number that was going to drive
Edward nuts.
I lowered my shoe and Mrs. Evans' wedding dress came into focus, hanging in a
clear garment bag next to my closet. As a test to make sure I was absolutely ready for
tonight, I'd tried it on over the weekend. There hadn't even been a trace of panic, just the
same calm, peaceful feeling I was experiencing right now. Balance and control, that was what
it was all about. Except when I was on a motorcycle.
I ran my tongue over my top lip to ease the goofy grin that always appeared when I
thought of my motorcycle. It had been something of a common occurrence since our lesson
Friday.
You love the feeling of riding more than you love yoga, B said with a bored air.
"You're right," I said, flipping the Amazon box in my hands and ripping off the
packing tape.
That means something.
A full wig of curly, blonde hair was the first item in the box. I lifted it out and found
a pile of white fabric underneath, which I assumed when taken out of its plastic wrapping
was the slinky replica of Marilyn Monroe's iconic dress. I had ordered the whole ensemble as
soon as Emmett told me what our senior prank was going to be.
The doorbell rang and I hopped up, grabbed my clutch from the bed, and checked it
to ensure Edward's Valentine's Day present was snuggled safely inside. The small emerald
green box smiled up at me. This was it. I glanced one last time in the mirror.
"You're ready," I told that girl.
The Amazon box caught my eye just before I turned off the light and the impulsive,
silly part of me roared. Oh, it was too good an opportunity to pass up. A minute later, I was
descending the stairs toward the man I loved and he was looking up at me trying to cover a
horrified expression.
"What do you think?" I asked, stopping midway down and primping my short,
platinum blonde hair.
"It's… it's, um…" His face relaxed. "It's a wig, isn't it?"

  342  
 I laughed. "Totally busted," I said, ripping it off and tossing it to him.
He caught it and grinned. "There she is."
I took the last few stairs in a scurry and fell into his waiting arms. "Here I am," I
whispered before planting a kiss on him. With one smooth motion, Edward dipped me and
deepened the kiss.
"You look beautiful," he said against my lips.
"As do you. Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous."
He laughed as he righted us, and I laughed at his laughter. It hadn't been four hours
since I'd said goodbye to him in the school parking lot, but it felt like an eternity. He did
look gorgeous, wearing a tieless black suit. My smile slipped a little as he turned toward
Charlie, the thin pink scar on his cheek glinting in the light. It was small and fading lighter
every day, but my guilt still spoke to me whenever I saw it. The guilt was the one thing I
hadn't quite conquered since the assault, partially because I needed that reminder of where
my gamophobia had landed us. It was the reason I fought so hard.
Charlie walked in with Willow at his feet and held up a disposable camera. "What's
with the wig?" he asked.
"It's for our senior prank. We're supposed to dress up as infamous people
throughout history. I'm Marilyn Monroe," I explained.
"Who's Edward going as?"
"Young Hugh Hefner. You should see the pipe I bought you. It's totally slick."
"Why couldn't I just use the pipe you bought for your Sherlock costume?"
"They're completely different styles. One's a calabash pipe and the other's a black
billiard."
"You make a father so proud," Charlie said. "Before you leave, I have to take a
picture. Esme made me promise."
"Of course. Let's take it outside," Edward said, opening the front door.
So it begins.
I had done all sorts of imagining over the last few months. I imagined the ring. I
imagined myself saying yes. I imagined him naked. But never once had I imagined what he
was going to do for the proposal. What was the point when my imagination was so dull
compared to his?
The path to the Volvo was layered in flower petals and lined with life-size cardboard
cutouts of our favorite characters. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Aragorn, Arwen, Mr. Darcy,
Lizzie Bennet, Buffy, Willow, Angel, Spike, Sherlock, and Watson, all there holding out
bouquets of daisies for me.
"Holy heart palpitations," I muttered in complete awe. I hoped more than ever the
ring I'd designed for him would be enough. How could I compete with this?
We spent the next fifteen or so minutes posing with the cutouts for Esme's pictures.
Willow was so excited by all our visitors he kept knocking them over, making us laugh. By
the time we were in the car, Charlie's yard was a mess, but he waved us away with an order
not to worry about it.
"Before we leave, I need you to put this on," Edward said, holding up a black
blindfold.
"Kinky." He half-smirked and my stomach ached from the hotness. "I love you," I
couldn't help saying.
His smile went full force. "Not as much as I love you."

  343  
 "You don't know what you're talking about," I said, wrapping the fabric around my
head. "Where are we going?"
"Do you not understand the purpose of a blindfold?"
"Give me a hint."
"The fanciest restaurant in Forks."
"There are no fancy restaurants in Forks."
"That you know of," he said smugly.
Stopped at the end of the street at what I assumed was the stop sign, I caught my
own smug-bug. "See something you like?" I asked, trying not to squirm so he could
appreciate my dress as much as he wanted.
"How can you tell? Can you see through the blindfold?"
"We're just sitting here and I can't hear any cars in the vicinity."
"Clever. Well, Bella, my love, I have to say, this dress is a killer."
"I'm glad you like it. That was the idea."
"Be honest. Were you tempted to wear the tiara tonight?"
"No," I laughed.
"Come on. You can tell me."
After a moment, I said, "I might have tried it on at the house."
"I knew it," he said, finally making a left-hand turn.
"Yes, yes. You know me well." That was kind of the point of tonight. I didn't say as
much out loud, figuring it would clue Edward onto the fact that I knew what the point of
tonight was.
The silence that followed left me dithering. Without the outside world to appreciate
or the view of the driver's seat, I had no anchor. What did one talk about on the night they
got engaged?
"Do you want to play a game?" I asked.
"A game? What kind of game?"
"Like, a word game maybe."
I tried to imagine the look on Edward's face as he said, "Okay. Sure. What did you
have in mind?" Amused. I was going with amused, and maybe a hint of ambiguity.
"Have you ever played the picnic game?"
"I can't say that I have."
I launched into an explanation of the rules, feeling more an idiot with each one, but I
had committed and I would follow through. "You just have to remember everything that
comes before, but it's easy with the alphabet. I'll go first. I'm going to the picnic and I'm
bringing applesauce. Now it's your turn."
"Okay," Edward said uncertainly. "I'm bringing applesauce and bl–"
"Wait. You have to say, 'I'm going to the picnic.' "
I could feel his eye-roll accompanying the, "Really?"
"It's the rules."
"I'm going to the picnic and I'm bringing applesauce and blueberries."
"Perfect," I said with a little clap of encouragement. "I'm going to a picnic and I'm–"
"Not a picnic. The picnic." My mouth fell open. "Hey, you're the one who made this
serious business," he said with a competitive edge to his voice.
Oh, it was on. "I'm going to the picnic and I'm bringing applesauce, blueberries, and
carrots."

  344  
 "I'm going to the picnic and I'm bringing applesauce, blueberries, carrots, and
dumplings."
I had just added "ice" to our list of picnic items when the car pulled to a stop and
Edward said, "We're here," but when I lifted a hand to pull off the blindfold, Edward
prevented it. "Not yet." I heard his seatbelt release and the driver's side door open and close.
In less than a moment, he was next to me, helping me out of the car. "Now you get to
decide. Do you want me to guide you in or carry you in?"
"I want you to carry me in," I said, my giddiness from the wig gag making me brave.
I was crossing into dangerous territory. Balance and control, I reminded myself as Edward
placed my arms around his neck. One of his hands ran up the length of my leg before he
picked me up bridal style, giving me goosebumps, and his chuckle tickled my ear.
I heard a door open, followed by the clamor of a restaurant. What the other patrons
were thinking as we danced our way through their tables, I couldn't say. I tried to pinpoint
their conversations, but all I heard was a collective babble. Were they pointing and laughing?
Talking about how sweet Edward was? Ignoring us all together?
"Here you are, sir," a deep voice said. Edward swiveled us through a doorway and
the noise faded into soft, romantic background music. It smelled of vanilla and bread sticks.
"Where are we?"
"One more second," Edward said, gently placing me down on the floor and
steadying me. I heard the host duck out of the room. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." I was ready.
He tugged off the blindfold and the first thing my eyes registered were twinkle lights
everywhere, along the beige walls, around the earthy, branch-like centerpieces, draped over
the deep red curtains that guarded us from the darkness of night. They were the only source
of light in the cozy room, giving it a low, whimsical haze. Our table was bare but for a
tablecloth that matched the curtains, a single daisy, and two wineglasses filled with what I
assumed was sparkling cider. The walls were the best part, lined with black frames that held
pictures of us dating back to eighth grade. There must have been two dozen of them. I spun
around, trying to take in each one – slow dancing for the first time as kids, dressed up for a
Lord of the Rings midnight showing, kissing in the yearbook room just months ago.
"Oh, Edward," I sighed. He was standing back, watching me. I walked over to him
and took his face between my hands. "You know you can totally get laid tonight if you
decide that's what you want."
He threw his head back and howled with laughter. "Jesus, Bella," he said, his eyes
twinkling with the lights.
"I'm dead serious, Mister. And just so you're forewarned, I'm probably going to offer
more than once if you keep this up."
"Thank you for the warning. Consider me cautioned. Constant vigilance, as Mad-Eye
Moody would say."
"Oh my, God, Edward. What are you trying to get me to do, quoting Harry Potter off-
the-cuff like that?"
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly serious. "I think you know."
I let out a breath. So maybe he did know that I knew. I was still going to pretend to
be surprised.

  345  
 The food was delicious, the atmosphere quixotic, and the discussion ripe with lively
debate.
"It doesn't count," Edward said. "It's completely outside the spirit of the activity."
"It does too count," I said. "People need umbrellas at picnics just as much as they
need food."
Edward was shaking his head. "It has to be a food item."
"I never said that in the rules."
"It was implied. Otherwise, you could bring literally anything to the picnic."
"What about ice? You didn't object to that one and it isn't a food."
"I let you have it because it's in the category of things you consume through your
mouth."
"I never said it had to be something you consume through your mouth."
"God, I love you," he said, shaking his head through his laughter, "but enough
chatter. Come up with a food starting with 'U' or forfeit the game."
I looked down at our table, scouring our nearly empty plates for inspiration. I threw
my hands up in the air. "I bet you can't come up with one, either."
He leaned forward eagerly. "What are we betting?"
I couldn't love him more. He got me. I leaned forward as well and ran my finger
along the rim of my wineglass. "How about my virginity?"
"You are a seductress, Miss Swan."
"Don't pretend you're not tempted." I had snuck a few condoms in my purse, on the
off chance he'd actually give in tonight.
Smirking, he sat back. "Guess what I heard yesterday?"
"That Gimli finally shaved off his beard."
"Nope."
"That Nike has developed a serviceable shoe for the hobbits of Middle Earth."
"Nope," Edward said. "Want me to tell you?"
"Of course not. You know how much I love this game."
"One more guess," he conceded.
I took a bite of my Lemon Chicken Piccata and nearly purred. Everything from the
appetizers to the main course had been divine. Even the Sparkling Cider had a special taste
to it. This night was going well. I was ready.
"Okay, I got it," I said, putting down my fork. "Yesterday, you heard that Frodo and
Sam got matching 'Speak Friend and Enter' tattoos."
"Not even close."
"Blinking Barney balls," I cussed, adding a finger snap for effect. "I was so sure that
was it."
Edward chuckled appreciatively and picked up his champagne glass. "I heard that we
were a lock for Cutest Couple in the Senior Superlatives."
"Do not speak to me about Senior Superlatives."
"I thought you'd be pleased," he said with a tip of his glass.
"Sure I am, about the couple thing, but let's put this in perspective. We've been
lobbying for Most Likely to Stalk a Celebrity, male and female respectively, since freshman
year. We were shoo-ins. I mean, come on, they call me Harry Potter Girl and everyone
knows about your Arwen thing…" I continued ranting about how last year's winner ruined it
for us by whining offense at being called a stalker, resulting in the deletion of the category
one year before it was ours.

  346  
 Edward looked at me like I was the most adorable thing in the world. "I think you're
probably a little too upset about not being called a stalker. Personally, I'd rather have Cutest
Couple."
"You can win more than one, and it would have been nice to have the pair. Cutest
Couple and Most Likely to Stalk a Celebrity. Generations to come would have wondered
how we made our relationship work." I tried to covertly adjust my dress. I was stuffed and I
felt like I was about to burst out of it. "Anyway, what else is new with you?"
"I got a letter from the University of Alaska today," Edward said.
"So did I!" Acceptance letters from the less prestigious universities we'd applied to
had been floating in over the last several months. "What did it say?"
"Typical stuff. Congratulations."
"That's my man," I said with a no-nonsense head-bob.
"What about you?"
"Same."
"That's my woman." He stole my head-bob. I ducked to hide my smile. "We
shouldn't get ahead of ourselves, since the Ivy League acceptance letters don't come for
another month and a half, but if this preliminary round is any indication, it's looking good
for us. And if everything ends up going south, it's nice to know we still have options."
My ear twitched. "If everything goes south?"
"I'm sure we're going to be fine," Edward said. "But Ivy League is a whole different
ballgame. It's likely that we'll both win some and lose some. We have to keep our fingers
crossed that at least one of the Ivy Leagues is crazy enough to take us both."
How had I never considered the possibility that we might not get accepted to the
same schools? Or worse, one of us (me) might not get accepted at all. "What if you get into
Princeton, Harvard, Dartmouth, Columbia, Penn, Brown, and Yale? And I only get into
Cornell?"
He gave me a challenging eyebrow. "Why wouldn't I have gotten into Cornell?"
"This is a hypothetical."
"Hypothetically, if I got into Harvard, I should certainly be able to get into Cornell."
"Just answer the question."
"We'll figure it out," he said easily. "We still have options. Maybe we'll end up at the
University of Alaska."
"You can't turn down seven Ivy League colleges to go to state school!"
"Hypothetically, I can do whatever the hell I want. Like, hypothetically, I could have
joined Frodo and Sam in getting the 'Speak Friend and Enter' tattoo."
A waiter came in to collect our plates and I used the moment to think the problem
through. There was absolutely no way I was letting Edward give up his dream of an Ivy
League education. He'd been working toward it his entire life.
"Bella, I can see your mind working a million miles a second over there. Can we save
this conversation for if it ever happens? One of the schools is bound to let us both in."
I wanted to say no, that this was exactly the kind of conversation we should have
before we got engaged, but the answer to the problem clicked in my head before I had to. If
that were to happen, he could choose whatever college he wanted to go to and I'd find a
regular college in the same region. B was growling mightily, but I ignored her.
Satisfied, I sat back and smiled. No matter what college I went to, state or Ivy
League, I profoundly and completely accepted and loved myself. "Sure. Now what?"
"Now," Edward stood and held out his hand to me, "it's time for dessert."

  347  
 He might as well have just broadcast that he was about to propose. With one hand, I
grabbed my clutch. With the other I took his hand and let him help me to my feet, taking
stalk of my body as he did so. My pulse was steady. My stomach was butterfly-free. My
hands were still. I couldn't be calmer and B had disappeared.
I followed him to the door, straightening my dress and stretching my face muscles
behind his back. I wanted to make the best "surprised face" ever when he got down on one
knee in front of the entire restaurant, which I was certain was filled with our family and
friends. I wouldn't have put it past Edward to buy out an entire business for the occasion,
and it would explain why he'd blindfolded me.
When we hit the door, he stepped behind me. "Put your hand on the doorknob," he
directed, covering my eyes with his hands. "Now open it and step forward." He stepped with
me a few more times and I smiled when all the talking in the restaurant ceased, confirming
my theory.
"Are you ready to see what's for dessert?" he asked.
I nodded eagerly. Edward's hands left my eyes and I gasped dramatically out of
genuine shock. There were no patrons, no tables, no restaurant. We were standing in the
Cullens' kitchen, completely alone.
I spun back around to look at the room we had just exited. "That's your dining
room!" I screeched.
"Uh huh," he said, grinning from ear to ear. "You had no idea, did you? Amazing
what you can do with a few accoutrements, eh?"
"But… but what about the other people? I heard them."
"I took the surround sound out of the movie room and put it in here. You were
listening to a sound effects CD called Restaurant and Bar Ambience."
"The waiter? The food?"
"I stole them from a Port Angeles restaurant for the night. I know I could have just
taken you there, but it was important to me that we be here, in this room when it was time
for dessert."
I was so riled up from his big reveal, I'd forgotten about what was going to happen
now. He took both my hands and led me over to island counter, where a space had been
cleared amongst the pots, pans, and wayward ingredients for a heart made of daisy petals. A
single bowl of vanilla ice cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup sat in the center of the daisy
heart, along with something that made my heart both sink and sing.
It was all so much. I needed to get myself under control. I closed my eyes and
repeated affirmations in my head until my breathing was regular and my heart not so jumpy.
When I opened my eyes again, the ring winked at me with its beauty several times over. It
wasn't just one diamond, but many in an oval shape, held together by a web of gold.
"I never had the chance to get to know her well, but before she died my
grandmother on my father's side gave this ring to Grandma Evans to hold for you."
"For me?" I asked, beating down another wave of emotion with my affirmations. I
couldn't look at him yet. I needed to get myself under control if I was going to get through
this. He ran his thumbs in circles over the tops of my hands, and I let that soothe my body
into submission.
"Can I tell you a story?"
Finally, I gazed up to his eyes and felt completely at ease. Balance and control. I had
it. "I'd love to hear a story."

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 "There once was a little boy who was friendless and very lonely. The only ease to his
heavy heart was a ring in his grandmother's bedroom that he would one day use to propose
to what he referred to as his forever friend. For hours at a time, he would lay on the floor of
the bedroom, holding the ring so it sparkled in the light as he detailed every attribute of his
life partner. In these moments, he was happy, but as soon as the ring went back in its box
and into the drawer, the loneliness smothered him again."
"Please stop," I interjected, holding up a hand. He raised his eyebrows, clearly taken
aback at my solemnity. "You're not allowed to continue this story unless it has a happily ever
after. Because, seriously, I can not handle stories that don't end happily."
He chuckled and nodded. "Yes, it ends happily. One day a princess walked into this
boy's yearbook class and forever changed his life. No longer did he need the ring to feel
companionship. He had the girl."
"Oh my, God, stop," I said again.
"What now?"
"You realize you just described Smeagol-slash-Gollum's story in Lord of the Rings? He
sat around for years with only a ring for company. The one ring."
Edward half-grinned and looked over my head. "I wrote the first draft of this speech
four years ago to the day, the night you helped me figure out who I was by pouring
chocolate syrup into a bowl of vanilla ice cream and calling me Swirl. That speech clocked in
somewhere around twenty pages–"
"Holy crap. What was in it?" I said, then cringed. "Sorry."
"No, it's okay. There was a lot of poetry, some sonnets. I still have it if you'd like to
read it some day. Point is, I've been refining this speech for four years and I never once
picked up on any similarities between it and Lord of the Rings. What do you think that
means?"
Our hands swung sweetly between us. I glanced down at them. "I think it means that
you were so focused on us that not even your obsession could distract you from the story
you wanted to tell. My chattiness, however, is an entirely different story. Sorry I keep talking
through your proposal. I'll shut up now until it's my turn."
"No, don't ever shut up," he said, dropping one of my hands so he could brush my
cheek. "Bella, there are so many things about you that I love, but the thing I love the most is
that you are nothing like the girl I imagined as a boy. That girl couldn't touch you. You're
strong and an individual and so, so smart. You made me the man I am today."
A deep breath followed his praise and I held mine. He was psyching himself up. This
was it, the moment I had been waiting for. I was fine. Perfectly calm. Not scared. Not even
nervous.
He gently picked the ring box off the counter and took a step back so he could bend
down on one knee. "This kitchen is where you helped me discover who I was. And this is
where I ask you to be my wife. Isabella Marie Swan, will you marry me?"
One last deep inhale. One last affirmation. One last moment to confirm I was in
control. And then, "Yes."
Yes! I had done it. There hadn't even been a hitch in my voice. Victory surged
through my veins and I suppressed a cry of triumph. I had defeated my gamophobia, stuck it
in a blender and ground it as finely as minced garlic.
I wiggled my finger as a hint for Edward to put the ring on it. Except he didn't. In
fact, his face hadn't changed with my acceptance, except to slip into a perplexed grimace.
"What's wrong?"

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 "Your reaction. It's not what I was expecting when I proposed."
I frowned. "Isn't that what you just said you loved most about me?"
He pulled back and let his hand, the ring box with it, fall to his side. My victory high
deflated faster than a popped balloon, sending me spiraling back to reality. What was
happening?
"I have to ask," he said. "What are you feeling right now?"
"Confused."
"I mean before that, when I asked you the question."
"Fine. I felt fine."
"Excited? Eager? Enthusiastic?" I stared down at him, searching my emotions.
"Happy. The least you could give me is happy."
I swallowed. "I was happy." Wasn't I?
Edward stood and took to pacing. "You're supposed to feel thrilled."
I had been thrilled… thrilled I'd managed to get the "yes" out. I slumped against the
counter and watched Edward's feet work the tiled floor, a thousand thoughts and emotions
hitting me at once. For the first time in months, I felt my hands tremble. I let them. My
mind was racing, but I couldn't pinpoint one particular train of thought.
Edward's feet halted and twisted in my direction. "What the hell, Bella?" he snapped.
"I… I don't know," I mumbled.
In one quick move, Edward was down on his knee in front of me again. I thought he
was going to give me another shot to improve my performance, but instead he said, "Do you
want to marry me?" He was looking deeply into my eyes, imploring me for the truth.
"I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
He laughed once and turned away, nodding bitterly. "That wasn't what I asked."
"Originally what you asked was 'Will you marry me?' My answer is still yes."
"But do you want to marry me?" Two minutes ago my answer would have been an
unequivocal yes, and I would have believed it. My hesitation now was enough for him. He
yanked himself up, almost violently, and stormed to the other side of the kitchen. I thought
he might leave until he spun around with cold eyes. "Answer the question, Bella. I want to
hear you say no."
"I can't do that, because it would be just as untrue as saying yes."
"And that means what, exactly?"
"I don't know!" I sunk down to the floor and buried my head in my knees. "Please, I
just need a minute to think."
"Think about what?"
"I don't know. Please, just let me think." He said something else, but I pressed my
hands over my ears, trying to concentrate. Something popped into my head, something
random, a quote from my day as Sherlock: When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever
remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
"I should have been thrilled he was proposing to me," I mouthed to my knees. My
shrink was always telling me to avoid words like "should" or "shouldn't" in my vocabulary,
but in this case, it was a hard thing to deny. An engagement should be a joyous occasion. I
had been so focused on getting to that monumental "yes," I'd forgotten about the other part
– the actually wanting it part.
I hadn't been thrilled. I hadn't even been calm. I recognized it now. I'd been
petrified. I'd never stopped being petrified. I'd just covered it up with yoga and affirmations
and the illusion of balance and control. I blamed myself and I blamed my shrink. I was

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bleeding out and she had handed me a Band-Aid instead of a tourniquet. Tears rolled down
my legs as I realized that all my work over the last three months was for naught. It was
completely useless because the problem wasn't my divorced parents or not profoundly
accepting myself. The problem was that I had no fucking clue what the problem was. I
wasn't ready. I never had been. And no amount of wishing and believing and meditating
could change that.
More than almost anything, I wanted to stay on this floor, buried in my knees and
my misery. I wanted never to see the disappointment on Edward's face, to tell him I couldn't
marry him, that all of his work and dreaming put into this night was as useless as my yoga. I
had to swallow my pain and cause the one person I loved most more.
He was standing over me, furious in his hurt. I brushed my hair back and sniffed.
"Let me start by saying I am a deeply, deeply confused person."
"Where is this coming from, Bella? I thought we had a plan."
"We did. And I've been trying to follow it, believe me. I just… I got lost. I don't know,
Edward. I don't know what happened."
"Stop saying that. How can you not know?"
"I don't–" I pressed my lips together and exhaled through my nose. "I wish I had the
answers."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, as if to clear past my words.
"So what is this? Are you breaking up with me?"
"Of course not. In case you didn't notice, I actually said yes to your proposal. This
entire time, all I've wanted is to make you happy."
"Do not try and put this off on me," he barked.
"I'm not. I'm–"
"It's the same thing over and over with you, isn't it? When are you ever going to trust
me enough to tell me when you're having a problem?"
My head fell back and feebly hit a cabinet. "I didn't tell you because I thought I was
beating it."
"Beating what?"
"My gamophobia."
"What the hell is that?"
"It's the persistent, irrational, uncontrollable fear of marriage."
His eyes bulged. "You've been diagnosed?" I nodded vaguely, already exhausted by
this portion of the conversation. "How long?"
"Since we got back from our Ivy League trip."
"The summer?" he said, rubbing his forehead. "So you felt comfortable enough to
talk to a complete stranger about your problems, but not your future spouse."
"There." I pointed a finger at him. "Right there. Future spouse. That is exactly why I
tried fighting it instead of giving in. It's been our dream since we were in eighth grade.
Can't–"
"Our dream? Stop pretending that you ever wanted this."
"Stop yelling. You have no idea how hard the last six months have been for me."
His nose flared as he took a fiery breath. "I'm sorry I yelled," he said through barely
contained calm. "I'm just trying to get over my astounding disappointment at this turn of
events."

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 "You're disappointed? I said yes." I raised my voice so the whole house could hear.
"To anyone out there who is wondering, I said yes! I'm not rejecting him. He's rejecting my
acceptance."
"Funny," Edward sneered. "This just proves what I've always known. I love you
more than you love me."
I was on my feet in no time flat. "You so do not!" I seethed. "I may have doubts
when it comes to getting married, but I have no doubts when it comes to you."
"Oh, I know. You want to spend the rest of your life with me. You want to move
away with me and make love to me. You just don't want to make a legal commitment to me.
It hurts, Bella. It physically hurts."
I bit my bottom lip to keep it from quivering and stared up to the ceiling, trying to
find B in all this. I wanted her to tell me what to do, how to handle this. I was sinking in an
ocean of confusion and pain, dragging Edward down with me, and B had nothing to
contribute. Not even an I-told-you-so.
I cleared my throat to give my voice strength. "I try, Edward. I try so hard to show
you how much I love you. I know I'm not as good at it as you are." My finger traced the
box-shaped bulge in my purse. "I know I'm not as good at figuring out grand gestures and
making big speeches, but I try to show it other ways, like being supportive of your dreams,
or working my tail-feathers off so we can go to the college you want, or, you know, I'd marry
you this very moment, despite all my reservations, if it'd wipe that look off your face. I'm
sorry I haven't done enough to make you feel like I love you with my whole being, because I
do, Edward. I really, really do."
Frustration furrowed Edward's eyebrows before his face went blank, as if a barrier
had been put up in front of his anger, then returned with a stilted hand gesture and froze
midway through. I had made Edward speechless. The anger drained from his eyes like sand
in an hourglass, and then from his body as he sunk down into one of the kitchen island
chairs, propping his head on his hand. I felt very small sitting across from him, waiting in the
long quiet for his verdict.
"What did you mean when you said that you worked hard to get into the college I
want?" he asked, pivoting his head in my direction. He looked so tired, so beat.
"I know it doesn't seem like much, but I studied and studied to get grades good
enough so I could get into whatever school you wanted."
He was staring at me with a different kind of intensity than I'd seen before,
concentrating on my answers. "Don't you want to go to an Ivy League school?"
"As long as it's where you are," I said, hoping against all else he could understand
how much I loved him. "If you wanted to go to the University of Alaska, I'd be there in a
heartbeat."
His hand fell to the counter. "Bella, what do you want to do when you grow up?"
"I want to be with you." His agitation was festering again. Didn't he believe me?
"Married or not, that's what I really and truly want."
"But what do you want to do? As in an occupation."
"I've been applying to all the computer science programs."
"But is that what you see yourself doing with the rest of your life?"
Suddenly, B was there listening and, dare I say, thinking.
"It works, doesn't it? You're going to get a major in business and a minor in digital
art. You can keep designing the websites and I'll implement them. We're a power couple,

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remember?" His mouth was hanging slightly open. I shifted under his scrutiny. "Something
wrong? Besides the obvious."
"I just… am realizing that I'm the biggest jerk on the planet."
"No, you're not," I said, grabbing his hand. "I swear on my life I'm not putting this
on you. I'm not. I know I'm screwed up."
He glared down at himself in disgust. "No wonder you're confused. I have never
once stopped to ask you what you wanted in all this. I never helped you cultivate your
dreams. I never even asked if you had any." His eyes shot up to mine. "Bella, I am squashing
your potential."
That makes sense.
Don't do it, B. Not now.
The second I tried to stifle her, the morphine-like rush I hadn't felt in months
flooded my veins. I shook my head against the panic and against Edward. "What potential?"
"What potential? Bella, what potential? Let's start with the fact that you're in the
ninety-nine plus percentile. Do you know how many people can say that? Less than one-
percent!"
"A fluke," I said, gripping the hem of my dress and scrunching it in iron fists as the
panic hit my stomach. I squirmed uncomfortably and tried to focus on the conversation,
which was made harder through B's shouting.
You have absolutely no idea what you want to do with your life. You're as directionless as a toaster.
Listen to Edward. You have so much more to offer this world than being Mrs. Edward Cullen.
"You don't just wake up one morning and decide you're going to score a 2310 on the
SATs," Edward said. "It takes exceptional organizing, reasoning, common sense."
"No one has ever accused me of having much of that."
"What about MyT-Spot? Do you have any idea how much money we're going to
make because of the software you built?"
The panic was mounting. I could feel myself about to lose control. "I told you I
didn't want to talk about that."
"Fine. Take the dollars and cents out of it and you still have an incredible piece of
ingenuity that you created."
You've been together since you were in eighth grade. You don't even know where he ends and you
begin.
"That was nothing." I reached across the counter to grab the bowl of melting ice
cream. I was going to dump over my head. Or maybe over Edward's. Anything to stop the
panic from overwhelming me.
Edward grabbed my arm. "Your insecurity is off-the-charts annoying."
"I'm not insecure. I'm a realist. No!" I yanked my hand away at his eye-roll. "Listen
to me. I'm a mess."
"Life is going to become so much easier when you realize how special you are.
Everyone can see it. They gravitate toward it. Look at your fucking fan club."
"They're a bunch of underclassmen dweebs who have nothing better to do with their
time."
"No, Bella. They see what I see in you. You're effortlessly awesome."
"I need people to stop saying that."
"Since you don't believe it's true."
"No, because I'm Bella. Not Awesome. Not B. Just Bella." I shouted over the voice
in my head, "And Bella is yours!"

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 Maybe part of you is his, but part of you is yours too.
My hands found my ears and pressed in as hard as they could, my fingertips gripping
into my hair, pulling at it to distract the panic. Tears dripped from my pinched eyes like
burning wax.
Stop fighting it.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
My whole body jolted like an earthquake. Edward was right in front of me, hands on
my arms, talking. I couldn't hear above the ringing in my ears.
"I have to get out of here," I said as the chair fell out from under me. I was standing,
and then I was searching, and then I was tearing my way out the door. I needed to escape it
– him – everything. I nearly ran over our waiter in my desperation to get out.
Finally, finally, I found the front door and took off into the woods, running as if my
life depended on it. Blissful thoughtlessness accompanied each long stride as I navigated the
forest solely on instinct. It reminded me of riding my motorcycle. For those few minutes, I
wasn't Bella Swan or B or Awesome. I was the crooked, thin trees against the night sky. I
was the shadows cast by the moon. I was the moss at my feet. My arms flew out on either
side of me and I soared, screaming my panic into the wind with an imperious, earth-
shattering cry.
As my chest burned with harsh, shallow breaths, my senses returned. I could smell
the pines, feel the branches' whips, taste the fresh cold, see the darkness, and hear footsteps.
Mine and someone else's.
Edward's.
He was hot on my heels, could tackle me with the ease of a lion taking down an
antelope, but he let me run. He ran with me. My legs were on fire, my lungs were going to
collapse, the ground jarred my body with each stride, but I pushed us deeper and deeper into
the forest until I lost my balance.
We had hit a sharp dip in the forest floor and Edward caught me mid-fall, taking the
brunt of the impact. I was on top of him, panting into his mouth and breathing his air. It
was as B had said, like I didn't know where he ended and I began. His eyes bore into mine,
digging for answers I didn't want to give and loving me despite it. I rolled off him and rested
my head in the crook of his arm.
A break in the trees above framed a sliver moon – waxing crescent, our Astrology
teacher would have called it. Lying there on the forest floor, looking up into the heavens and
calming our breaths, I realized I was a star, but not the kind Edward thought. The
atmosphere of this planet, everything between the sky and us, made stars appear to twinkle.
They weren't. They were spheres of burning gas barely held together by their own internal
gravities, floating aimlessly in space with a bunch of other spheres of burning gas.
Edward lifted his hand and stroked the hair next to my face. "I'm going to the picnic
and I'm bringing apricots."
I snorted into his shoulder and snuggled in closer. "I love you. I love you so, so
much."
"Then tell me what else is going on with you?"
"I believe the term is identity crisis," I said flatly.
He let his hand fall back to the ground. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes, it's okay. Just… when you do figure it out, know that I want to be with
whoever you are."

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 There it was again. He didn't deserve this. He deserved someone who was put-
together and mentally stable. He was stuck with me.
"I'm doing my best." I sat up and the weight of the night seemed to settle. "You
ready to go back to the house?" I asked, swatting his leg.
"Yep."
We both stood and stretched, my legs aching with the exertion of our run. "How are
we going to find our way back?"
"Don't worry," he said, taking off his coat and placing it around my shoulders. Ever
the gentleman, that one. "After our last forest excursion, I made sure to install GPS on my
phone. Tell me, what is it about the forest that calls you to it?"
Guided by the light of his BlackBerry, Edward and I stumbled our way back to his
house through the jungle of my issues.

"What are young people doing for proposals these days?" Charlie asked after one
look at my muddy, tattered dress. "Or is this one of those things I never, ever, ever want to
hear about?"
I dropped down on the couch next to him, and propped my feet up on the coffee
table. My shoes were even filthier than my dress. "It's not, but I won't bore you with the
details."
"Do I get to see the ring?"
I clenched my hand into a fist. "Nope."
"Why not?"
"Edward has it."
"I'm starting to get the impression that things might not have gone according to plan
tonight."
"You didn't get that impression when I walked into the room covered in dirt from
head to toe? I thought you were the Chief of Police."
Charlie reached for his phone.
"What are you doing?"
"Calling Edward. I want to have a word."
"Please, don't," I said, feeling my exhaustion. "This is something we need to work
out on our own. Promise you won't call him, no matter what."
It killed him to do so, but Charlie put down the phone. "Fine. I promise," he
grumbled.
"Excellent. With that in mind, Edward won't be at practice for the rest of the week."
"What the hell is going on?"
I gave my right eyebrow a nice, hard rub. "We decided that it would be best to think
things through separately before we see each other again, so Edward is taking the rest of the
week off from school to go stay with Jasper in Seattle. Even I'm not going to talk to him
until he gets back to school on Monday."
"Oh, is he now?" Charlie asked sarcastically. "And his parents are okay with that?"
"It's not up to them anymore. You guys decided it was time to butt out."
I could tell Charlie was on the brink of losing it, and I was pretty much done for the
night anyway, so I picked up my clutch and headed for the stairs. Neither of us had walked
away with rings tonight. I would give mine to him when the time was right.
"Tell me one thing," Charlie called from the couch. "Are you guys still together?"

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 "Always."
I collapsed on my bed without bothering to shower or undress. Willow hopped up
with me and laid his scraggly head on my stomach. Edward knew it all now. He knew it all
and he still wanted to be with me. I'd been the one who'd insisted on the trip to Seattle,
giving him an out in case he came to his senses and finally decided I was too much to
handle.
My fingers inched toward the phone, desperate to call Edward so I could tell him
how much I loved him, and that even though I thought the next few days apart were going
to be healthy, the idea of them made me want to reach in and rip out my heart. Instead, I
snapped a photo of his daisy ring on my right hand and texted it to him.
He sent back a picture of my Evenstar dangling around his neck.
We were separated, but not apart.

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 Chapter 36: The First Time They Felt Real Loss

God had spent six days creating the world and had taken the seventh off to rest. Not
that hard.
Edward, a God-like creature, was supposed to spend six days thinking things over in
Seattle and return on the seventh. Also, not that hard.
While we had kept our promise of distance as we worked out our individual needs, it
hadn't stopped us from sharing our feelings through pictures: a Harry Potter book lying
around the dorm, a swirl on a tablecloth, a banana, a cup of chocolate milk, my bra, his butt.
The last picture I had received yesterday was of his bed, indicating he'd made it back to
Forks in one piece, which was why he should have been here today. Only he wasn't.
The pictures were small, but they were something that told me we were going to be all
right. Had I misread the signs? Our six days apart had made me more determined than ever
to attack my problems and crush them into black powder, sans the help of The Quack. I was
dying to know where Edward stood.
"What does it mean when your boyfriend says he needs space?"
"It can mean a few things," Emmett said, tossing a football in the air and catching it.
"But mostly he's scared. Either he feels like you're too committed and that scares him, or not
committed enough, but he's too scared to entirely take the plunge."
Alice was leaning forward over a long folding table that held dozens of toys, board
games, and sports equipment, drinking up Emmett's every word like they were dripping
from the Holy Grail itself. "Definitely the second one," she said. "But he lives in Seattle. I
live in Forks. How much space does the guy need?"
"Space for a guy doesn't only mean physical distance. Believe me, you chicks could
find ways to be up in our business from across the universe. He's talking phone calls, text
messages, Myspace stalking, the whole shebang."
"Does that mean we're broken up?"
I focused on the furious back and forth of my hand as I scrubbed green crayon off a
Cabbage Patch Kid's cheek. If I had known I wasn't the only one who'd had a rotten
Valentine's Day, I wouldn't have sent Edward to Seattle to live it up with a newly single
Jasper. He'd probably met some chippy at a UDub bar with a nice rack and no mental issues.
You know he wouldn't do that. Stop being a shrew. It's unfair to Edward. That wasn't B. That
was all Bella. B hadn't made a peep since she had botched my engagement. My wrath was
stronger than hers.
"Here's another one. What does it mean when he says you're a high-maintenance,
jealous harpy that never stops breathing down his neck? Is that, like, a defense mechanism or
something?"
"Sorry, Alice," Emmett said with another toss of the football. "That's called
honesty."
"I have one," I spoke up. "What does it mean when your boyfriend–"
"I'm gonna stop you right there, Bella. I can't answer any questions about Edward."
I stared at Emmett blankly. "My relationship is in peril and you're worried about
what, exactly – protecting Edward's mystery?"
"I didn't say I wouldn't. I said I couldn't."
"You're answering questions about Jasper."

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 "Jasper's a standard teenage dude, not that hard to understand. Edward… well,
Edward's anything but standard," Emmett said with a hint of admiration.
Angela nudged my arm. "So are you," she mumbled so only I could hear.
My lips formed a tight smile. "I'm just upset. His cellphone's turned off and he's
missing this. He was looking forward to it."
"Who would want to be here today?" Angela asked, chucking a filthy teddy bear in
the rubbish pile.
It was Senior Service Day in Forks, which meant the seniors of Forks High were
spread out all over the town doing charity work for class credit. My group of friends had
been sent to a toy drive to sort through all the second-hand toys the children of Forks had
selflessly discarded after getting new ones for Christmas. Angela and I were cleaning off the
toys that were salvageable and tossing the toys that were nasty beyond repair. Emmett and
Alice were "supervising."
"Edward's got more school spirit than all of us combined," I said, putting the now
clean Cabbage Patch doll in the usable bin and moving onto a Lego box.
"Where is good ole Edward?" Emmett asked. "I was supposed to have more
testosterone 'round here."
"He spent the week with Jasper." I opened the box and tried not to listen to what I
was saying. "He was supposed to be back today."
"Why didn't you say so up front? That changes everything for Alice."
"How?" Alice demanded.
Emmett gave all three of us bemused stares. "You guys don't know?"
"Know what?" I asked.
"Edward's a friggin' love doctor."
"Edward? A love doctor?"
"Well, yeah. I don't think he means to be or anything, but it's hard to not want to be
with your high school girlfriend after you listen to him talk about you for any extended
period of time. He's single-handedly gotten me and Rose back together, like, seven times.
Jasper's been around that for a whole week? I'm shocked he hasn't called already."
The annoyance encasing my heart melted, leaving room for a different kind of worry
to creep in. There wasn't any doubt in my mind Edward would still want to be with me after
his trip to Seattle. If there had been, I wouldn't have let him go. I would have clung to him
as tightly as possible and not given him the chance to leave me. In my heart, I'd always
known he'd come back with the same answer he left with.
Why wasn't he here?
"I'll put money down that Jasper calls by the end of the day, ready to give it another
go," Emmett was saying. "The kids around here see that you're not like the other couples
and want what you have. You guys are different."
The Lego pieces scattered all over the floor, the box having fallen from my grip.
"How?" I wanted to grab Emmett's collar and shout the word into his face, but I had settled
for an emphatic hand gesture.
He shrugged. "You just are." That answer was the bane of my existence. Or at least a
close second to B. "Now, I have a question for you ladies. How is it that I'm a senior the one
year April Fools falls on a Saturday? Does a senior prank mean the same thing on April
Seventh, as it does on April First?"
"The date doesn't make a difference," Angela said. "What matters is the spirit behind
the prank. The underclassmen are going to love it. Who are you going as?"

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 "Edward and I already have our costumes." I saw us standing at the foot of the
stairs, my blonde wig in his hand. "We're going as Marilyn Monroe and Hugh Hefner."
"I'm going as Queen Mary the First, otherwise known as Bloody Mary." Alice gave
an eerie hand quiver for effect. "What about you, Angela?"
"I'm thinking of going as Bonnie from Bonnie and Clyde."
"Who's going as your Clyde?" Emmett asked.
"No one." She gave a chipper little jig. "I'm all about breaking down stereo–"
"Oh. Em. Gee! OH. EM. GEE!" Alice shrieked, scaring the crap out of us. She
hopped up and down, holding her cell phone about an inch from her face. "Oh. Em. Gee.
Oh. Em. Gee!"
"What?" I asked.
"Emmett, you are ghetto-fabulous. Jasper texted me. He wants to get back together!"
I was happy for her, but, "Did he say anything about Edward?"
She hugged her phone to her body and squeezed so hard I worried she might break
it. "No. He said after having the weekend to reflect, he thinks we have something worth
fighting for and wants to give it another shot."
It was impossible not to read between the lines. Those were Edward's words, for
sure.
"Told ya," Emmett said with a wink in my direction.
"What did you say back?" Angela asked.
"Nothing." Alice straightened her skirt and sat back down in faux calmness, still
buzzing under the skin. "I have to wait at least an hour so I don't seem too desperate."
I squinted at her comment, seeing it as the kind of thing I would have pulled in
middle school. Thank God I had the common sense nowadays to face my problems head-on
and in a timely fashion. Or did I?
"Where are you going?" Angela asked, grabbing my arm as I stood to leave.
"I'm picking up Willow and heading over to the Cullens'." I wasn't in middle school
anymore. I was seventeen and had a driver's license.
"You're going to ditch me with three hours left of this torment? You're the only
other person doing any work."
"Come on, Ang," Emmett said. "Skipping out on Senior Service Day is a time-
honored tradition. I'd do it myself, but it's clear Bella needs it more. Anyway, as a preacher's
daughter, isn't community service engrained in your DNA?"
"I'm not benevolent," she said, pinching his arm.
"Go forth and skip, Bella," Emmett said dramatically. "I'll hold her off. Just
remember you owe me one!"
It was impossible not to imagine all manner of dramatic scenarios as I drove up
through the forested hills to the Cullens'. The worst – driving past a deadly car accident and
recognizing Edward's Volvo among the wreckage – resulted in me pumping up the radio
volume to ungodly heights. Willow didn't mind. I was beginning to think he was partially
deaf. So loud was it that I almost missed the vibrating of my cell phone from one of
Firebolt's cup holders, and I almost wished I had when I saw the name on the caller ID.
Why was Carlisle calling me and not Edward?
I turned off the music. "Hello?"
"Hey, Bella. This is Carlisle Cullen."
As if I knew any other Carlisles. "What's up?"

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 "Hey, so, um, I know you and Edward are going through some stuff." His voice wasn't its
usual smooth, delightful self. He coughed to clear the scratchiness from it, to no avail. "But I
was wondering if you could come over for a bit. I've already called Charlie to ask for permission."
"Why? What's going on?"
"It's, um, it's…" He paused, and let out a long, shuddering breath.
With every prolonged second, my patience waned and the warning in my gut grew
stronger. An obnoxiously loud horn blared from behind me. To compensate for talking on
the phone, I was going thirty under the limit, and it seemed I had a line behind me.
"Bella, are you driving?"
I cringed. "I'm already on my way over. Tell me what's going on."
"You're driving and talking on the phone?"
"Carlisle, please," I begged. "I know something's wrong. Tell me. I'm going to drive
way worse not knowing."
"Just get here as soon as possible." The phone clicked without a goodbye.
I rammed my head back against the headrest in frustration. The car behind me
honked again as I dialed Edward's number. I hadn't expected him to pick up, but it was still
a punch to the gut when it went through to his voicemail. Something so bad had happened
that Carlisle was afraid to tell me while I was driving, and Edward wasn't picking up his
phone.
"Buckle up," I told Willow, slamming on the gas in an effort to race to the Cullens'.
Firebolt managed to hit fifty before there was a terrifying sputtering noise from the
engine. It was all I could do to steer it to the side of the road before it rolled to a silent stop,
allowing the other cars to zoom by without a second glance.
"Why are you doing this to me!" I cried to the dashboard, the frustrations of the day
pouring out of me like scorching lava. I gave myself five seconds to cry and be pathetic
before I straightened up and attacked the problem.
I turned the key in the ignition over and over until I heard a spark and felt the engine
rumble beneath me. I breathed out a sigh of relief and eased my way back onto the road,
slow and steady this time.
A haphazard parking job was all I could manage when I reached the white mansion,
where I jumped from the vehicle and ran to the door, unable to handle the not knowing.
Willow disappeared inside as soon as the door cracked open to reveal a disheveled Carlisle,
eyes bloodshot; the thought crossed my mind that he looked of death.
"Who is it?" I asked before I could stop myself. "Edward, he's–"
"He's fine. It's… it's not him."
Relief swelled through my soul. "God," I said, stifling a cry into my hand. It was
more than relief; it was deliverance, and I was so caught up in it I almost forgot to ask,
"Who?"
Carlisle was a doctor. He knew how to deliver bad news, had done so hundreds of
times, but the rules changed when it was someone you loved. A name. All I needed was a
name. He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Bella, you know how much Elizabeth loved you."
My stomach plummeted. "No."
"She had a heart attack this morning."
"But she's fine, right?"
Tears reformed in his eyes, saying it all. I still couldn't believe it. A chill started to
creep up my spine and out through my arms. I ran my hands over the goose bumps to warm
them down.

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 "Bella?" Carlisle asked anxiously.
I opened my mouth to tell him I didn't believe him, but couldn't get the words out.
How could I accuse Carlisle of lying, with his pallor and uncombed head of hair? Instead I
said, "I don't understand."
He pulled me into a hug. "I don't either." His embrace was familiar – firm and steady
like Edward's. "She loved you so, so much. She saw herself in your passion. You brought her
so much happiness and made her laugh more than anyone."
The past tenses were getting to me. She loved. She saw. She was no more. I
collapsed in Carlisle's arms. My breaths came out as shaky rasps, and pains shot through my
abdomen all the way up to my heart. I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. All I felt were the
heaves of my chest and an ache so deep I thought I was going to join her.
A sharp laugh filled my ears… hers. I looked over Carlisle's shoulder but saw
nothing.
His voice came back into focus. "She called you her kindred spirit. She wanted to see
what you and Edward were going to do with your lives. You were both her pride and joy."
It was Edward's name that gave me the power to speak, or at least murmur, "How is
he? Oh, God. How's Esme?"
"They need our help." Carlisle made sure I was steady on my feet before he stepped
back and held me at arm's length so he could look into my eyes. "Me and you, we're a team,
right? We've always been a team when it comes to taking care of the people we love. That's
what we do."
"Yes."
"I'll go take care of Esme and you'll go take care of Edward. We'll get through this as
a family."
The last word rang in my ears. "Family." Blood or not, I felt it in my gut-wrenching
pain, she had undeniably been my Grandma. I wiped the tears from my eyes. They were
soon replaced with new ones. "Where is he?"
"Up in his room." Carlisle ran a hand down his face. "He's been practically catatonic
since he found out. He won't talk to me or look at me."
"She was our hero." My lip trembled as another round of sobs threatened to choke
its way up my throat. "Right now, she'd want me to be strong. Strong for Edward?"
"Yes. Strong for Edward."
"Be strong for Esme," I said and turned for the stairs.
A dog-sized gap between Edward's door and its frame indicated Willow had found a
way to nudge his way inside. Nothing but darkness leaked from the gap, and when I peered
into the room, the window shades were drawn, the lights turned out. Willow was lying
solemnly at the foot of the bed, as if he knew Edward was in mourning. From Willow, I
followed the silhouette of a body up to the back of Edward's head. He was stock-still, facing
away from me. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. He didn't budge.
I didn't know if he was asleep or, as Carlisle put it, catatonic, so I crept across the
room as quietly as I could and slid in next to him, close but not touching. "I'm here when
you need me," I whispered. He didn't acknowledge me.
The next several minutes were spent staring at the back of Edward's head and
thinking about Mrs. Evans. It still didn't feel real. How could she be gone? Just like that? She
had so much left to do on this plane of existence, so much left to teach me. I loved Esme
and my mother, but there had never been another woman I'd looked up to the way I
admired Mrs. Evans, with her wisdom, deep inner-strength, and endless generosity. I

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thought back to our first meeting, where she'd accepted me as Edward's business partner
after knowing me only three minutes and invested in my future on the spot. Who did that?
And now she wouldn't be there to see me walking up to the podium to collect my diploma
or down the aisle wearing her wedding dress.
My tears picked up again, and I rolled into the pillow, trying to stifle my cries for
Edward's sake. Thinking about Edward, how he was only inches from me but still so far
away, only made me cry harder. The whole bed vibrated with the force of my sobs, so I sat
up, intending to leave until I could get it together.
A hand caught mine as I stood. "Don't go," he said.
His cheeks were tearless, but a haunting anguish was etched into his features. He
hadn't shaved that morning, making him look beyond his years and profoundly sad.
"You haven't cried."
"I will. Stay with me?"
I crawled back into bed and laid my head on his chest, the way I always did on the
rare occasion we got to share a bed. He smelled of man, not unclean, just natural, raw. I
drank it in.
A damp spot was growing on his shirt under my wet cheek. He may not have been
able to cry, but I couldn't turn it off. "I'm so sorry," I said.
"It hasn't hit me." He ran his fingers through my hair. "I mean, I know it in my head.
The news just hasn't reached my heart yet."
I placed my hand over his heart and felt it pump beneath me. "I'll be here when it
does."
And I was.
At some point, hours later, the dam broke. It wasn't pretty or romantic. For all our
deep kisses, endless stares, and insightful talks, the most intimate thing Edward and I had
ever done was share our grief. Our hearts were open, on display. Neither of us held back as
we clung to each other, tears mingling with sloppy comforts. We sobbed and healed
together, leaving behind all the superficial things that didn't make a damn bit of difference at
a time like this.
It wasn't about being strong for Edward, like I'd thought. It was about being there
for each other, in whatever capacity we could be. It was about life. It was about us living it,
experiencing it, and coping with its losses collectively. I knew that whenever we walked out
of this room, we'd leave a different couple for it, a stronger one, an unshakable one. I was
his rock and he was my fortress.
Sometime during the deep hours of the night, I woke to find Edward watching me.
"Hey," he said, sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, scratching Willow.
I hummed a response, still too conked for anything more eloquent.
"He stayed with us," Edward said, looking down at Willow. "He knew something
was wrong."
After a deep yawn and a few seconds of dedicated concentration, I said, "Dogs are
naturally intuitive. Did you sleep?"
"I think I did. I'm not sure." Though his voice was still thick with heartache, I could
tell the storm had passed. "The last twenty-four hours are kind of a blur."
"Yeah."
"Are you awake enough that we can we talk about something?"
"Uh-huh." My eyelashes fluttered lightly as my surroundings sharpened and I sat up
to lean against his pillows. "Do you want to talk about your grandma?"

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 "Kind of. I want to talk to you about the last time I saw her. It was the night of the
proposal." Being awake was no longer a problem. He had my full attention. "I stopped by on
my way up to Seattle to tell her in person that we didn't get engaged."
My insides froze. "You don't think that had something to do with the heart attack?"
"No, no, no." Edward scooted closer and took my hand. "Don't you ever think that
her…" he let out a shaky breath, "that her death is on us in any way. She actually wasn't
surprised at all. She knew you'd been going through something since our Ivy League trip."
The darkness made it impossible for me to read the emotions across his face, and the
gruff quality to his voice made it impossible for me to read the emotions in his statement. "I
swear I never told her anything. I never told anyone except for my lousy, good-for-nothing
shrink."
"I know. That's just it. You never told her and yet she knew that you were struggling.
I didn't."
My gaze fell to the comforter. "I'm sorry."
"No, Bella." Edward shifted so he was kneeling on the bed right next to me, bracing
my hand on his chest with both of his. "It's not an 'I'm sorry' from you. It's an 'I'm sorry'
from me. I have been so focused on becoming your husband that I forgot about being your
boyfriend."
"Don't blame yourself for my problems. I couldn't stand it. They're my problems."
He nodded and let our joined hands fall down to the comforter. "I want to marry
you, Bella, but I know you're not ready, and not just because you flipped out when I asked
you."
"Technically, I said yes when you asked me."
"Point conceded. But if I may, there's one thing I've known and have been actively
ignoring since long before the proposal: you suck at teamwork."
It was amazing how quickly I could go from commiseration to indignation, even
when the criticism was justified. "Is this really the best time to–"
"I'd very much like to get this off my chest, if that's okay. I've been thinking about it
for days. That was the point of Seattle, wasn't it?"
Slumping back against the pillows, I tried to let the defensiveness go so he could say
everything he needed. It was the least I could do, all things considered.
"Where was I?" he asked.
"Bella sucks at teamwork."
"Right. That one's been about two-inches in front of my face for years, but I
convinced myself that being married would teach it to you, and I could ride it out until
then."
I searched for B to see if she had any opinions on Edward's assessment. She was still
nowhere to be found.
"It took Grandma pointing out that it was more important to have a successful
marriage, than simply a marriage, for me to realize I had it all wrong. When we get married, I
want us to have a clean slate, not be dealing with the same problems we're having now. That
means you have to be ready to give up your independence and I have to be ready to give you
the space and time to do that."
An uncomfortable nagging feeling settled in my chest. I tried to put it into words.
"Does being married mean that I can't have any independence?" I pictured myself shackled
and bound to an oven.

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 Edward scratched his scruffy chin as he thought through my question. "I think being
married means that you could be independent, but you choose to be accountable to someone
else. And for the record, I'm not sitting here asking this to be a one-way thing. I want us to
be accountable to each other."
"You're right that I'm not ready for that," I said, feeling it deeply in my bones. "It's
not that I can't commit to you. It's that I can't bring myself to commit to, I guess, the entire
commitment of commitment. I don't know why that is, but I'm not ready."
"It's okay. I think one day something's going to happen and it's going to all click into
place." He twisted my daisy ring around my finger. "Until that day comes, this is enough.
We're young. I have time."
"What if it never happens?" I asked miserably.
"As long as we're happy, I don't care. What else really matters when we only have
this one life?"
We settled into a quiet contemplation as we both reflected on what he'd said and
how it had so much more meaning today of all days.
"You know," I said. "I wasn't lying when I said I was ready to commit to you."
"I know."
"What I mean is I'm ready to do something that proves that to you."
"Oh," he said. "Oh, Bella, I'm tempted, trust me, but I don't think I could. Not after
Grandma…"
"God, no. That's, like, the furthest thing from my mind right now. Look at us. We're
totally gross." His hair was flying in all different directions. My eyes were clogged with tear
boogers. Neither of us had so much as brushed our teeth since that morning. "I meant
something else, like… I have no idea. I'm not the romantic one here."
I looked to him for help, but he shook his head. "I don't know what you're going for
either."
Wracking my brain, I tried to pinpoint exactly what I was trying to get across and
how I could do it. "Vows?" I asked as it popped into my head.
"Vows? Like, wedding vows?"
"Why not? Obviously we'd take the wedding out of it, but we could make vows to
each other, right? If you're ready, I am."
The crooked smile I loved lit up his face. My heart exploded. It wasn't something I
had expected to see so soon after Mrs. Evans' passing. "I'm all in," he said.
Slipping out of the comforter so I could sit with my knees touching his, I reached
out and held both his hands like I'd seen done at other weddings. He was practically glowing
in the moonlight, which told me I'd made a great choice. Maybe I was better at this romantic
thing than I'd thought.
"Me first, since this was my idea, but you'll have to tell me what to say because I
don't know them off the top of my head." The only bit I knew was the "to death do us part."
"You're sure about this?"
"Absolutely." It had always been yes to Edward.
"Okay, then. Repeat after me. I, Bella Swan, take you, Edward Cullen."
Looking deeply into his eyes and willing every ounce of love and affection I
contained for him to shine through, I said, "I, Bella Swan, take you, Edward Cullen."
"To be my, um, lawfully unwedded… everything?"
"To be my lawfully unwedded everything and beyond."

  364  
 The next few lines came and went without a hitch, but were no less significant. To
have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in
health… It was only when he hit, "To love, cherish, and–" that he stopped abruptly.
"What's wrong?"
"That's the part where you're supposed to vow to obey me."
I couldn't help but grimace. "Seriously?"
"Unfortunately. Don't worry. I would never force you to make you a promise you
couldn't keep."
"What if we were to say love, cherish, and fuck?" It was the first time I'd cussed in
months, and it was totally worth it to see the surprise cross his face.
"You want to use the f-word in our vows?" I nodded cunningly. "Okay, then. To
love, cherish, and fuck."
"To love, cherish, and fuck over, and over, and over again." Maybe it wasn't the
furthest thing from my mind.
Edward was having a hard time keeping it together as he said, "Until never do us
part."
"Until never do us part." I smiled at his revision. "You're turn."
Edward's vows were the same as mine, but he turned them into so much more, the
way only he was able. He spoke them the way I wished I could, with his heart and soul,
making my eyes well with the extent of his unending devotion. And then his eyes sparked
when the "fuck" rolled off his tongue. I was a puddle of goo before the, "Until never do us
part."
We consummated our vows with a short, but sweet kiss, and slipped back under the
covers to sleep the rest of the night away.
"It's too bad we didn't have anyone to witness that," Edward said into my hair.
"We had witnesses. Willow was here, and I bet so was Mrs. Evans, in her way."
"I suppose, but I'd rather not think about her like that."
"Too soon?"
"No. Too creepy."
"It's a comforting thought, though, isn't it? Like we have a guardian angel now."
"The last thing I want to be wondering when we finally make love is whether my
grandmother is watching us."
Could not agree more, I thought, rolling over so my chin was on his chest. "Are you
going to be okay?" I asked, running my fingers over his stubble. I liked it there. It made him
look like a man.
"I'm going to be okay. I miss her and I in no way feel ready to face the world outside
this bedroom, but because of you, I'll be okay."
He gave my fingertips a goodnight kiss and we drifted off to sleep.

"Esme wanted to say thank you for the chicken pot pie in person," I told Ms. Cope,
handing an empty casserole dish across her desk. "As you can imagine, she's been insanely
busy with trying to get her mother's estate in order." The excuse shouldn't have been
necessary, but after about fifty of these tray deliveries, I'd learned it was better to get it out of
the way before the old hens started pecking away with questions.
She sighed sympathetically and shook her head. "Of course. Of course." Now came
either the personal experience or the I-don't-know-what-I'd-do speech. "It felt like it was

  365  
months before I got my life in order after my mother passed a few years back." Then a
comment about how beloved Mrs. Evans was. "We all adored Elizabeth around here. She
was such a hoot at Bingo. So full of spirit and not afraid to tell the caller if he was going too
fast or slow." And something about the funeral. "The service was lovely. I'm so glad the sun
came out to shine on Saturday. Your eulogy was simply inspiring. It was lovely how you
chose to capture her spirit instead of the typical reading of life events. You're quite the
public speaker."
This was the part where I was supposed to say thank you and couldn't. My public
speaking skills may have been superb, but that hadn't made it any less horrible to stand in
front of Edward, as tears ran down his cheeks, and read about the rasp in her laugh or the
way she flawlessly guided us through life, using her wit instead of her words.
My silence was compulsory, but always gave them the chance to move onto their
favorite topic. "How is Edward doing?"
"He's doing as well as can be expected." That was the party line and I hated saying it.
What did it even mean? How could anyone expect anything of him at a time like this? And
why was it anyone's business anyway?
"Poor dear. Any idea when he'll be back to school? I've noticed it's been a few
weeks."
He'll be back to school when he's damn well ready, I wanted to snap, but instead said, "I
don't know. He's been keeping up with everything at home. I'm sure he'll come back when
he's ready." The office door opened and, as if on cue, Edward walked in. "Apparently that
day is today. Will you excuse me?"
Edward looked surprised to see me inside the office. "What are you doing here?" he
asked when I was close enough not to be overheard by Ms. Cope.
"Casserole dish duty. How about you? I thought you weren't going to come in for
the rest of the week."
"I just…" He sighed. "I couldn't stay in that house another day. It was starting to
suffocate me."
I ran my hand up in his forearm. "That's understandable. I think it's good that you're
getting out. It's healthy."
He turned his palm over so our hands could meet face to face. I slid mine directly
over his and left it there, like a prayer. We shared a small smile.
Ms. Cope made the most annoying noise clearing her throat, breaking our spell. "Do
you mind waiting here while I get things sorted out?" Edward asked. "We can go to home
room together."
"I'll be right over there." I pointed to a group of plush chairs that Principal Benson
usually sat students in when he wanted to intimidate them. I remembered it as the place
Edward and I had sat after I dumped the root beer float over his head in ninth grade. My
grin grew wider, recalling that day and how far we had come since. Edward and I were solid,
and it was long past the point where Principal Benson, in any way, shape, or form, scared
me. Charlie had told me years ago I could take him in Poker without breaking a sweat.
The dulcet sounds of adult cursing burst from behind the nameplate on Benson's
closed door. A glance over my shoulder confirmed Ms. Cope was occupied with Edward, so
instead of heading for the chairs, I slunk over to the door and listened in.
There was some indistinct grumbling, some F-bombs, a few a-holes, and then,
"What the HELL is a kitchen sink, anyway? A kitchen sink goes into a kitchen, not a fucking
website."

  366  
 Ah. This seemed like a problem for Bella Swan. I rapped the door lightly with my
knuckles.
"Who is it?" he barked.
Opening the door wider to reveal myself, I said, "Computer problems?"
"What are you doing here, Miss Swan?"
"It sounded like you were having issues."
"It's this stupid school website," Principal Benson spat, swiping at the desktop
monitor. "It's impossible to get things to align properly. This program is garbage."
"Do you want me to take a look?"
Principal Benson raised his head to peer at me through his spectacles. "Miss Swan, if
a fully-trained professional can't figure this out, what do you think a little girl can do?"
My mouth fell open. For the first time in weeks, I felt B stir. Develop a unique,
interactive design-your-own-t-shirt website. Spout off thousands of lines of code off the top of my head. Kick
your arse.
"Bella." Edward was right next to me. Where had he come from? "We should go,"
he said, grabbing my elbow and guiding me from the door.
"Did you hear what he called me?" I said loudly enough for Benson to hear.
"Close my door on the way out, Mr. Cullen," he said with a bored air.
I yanked my arm from Edward when we were in the hall. "Did ya hear? Did ya hear?
He called me a little girl! Go defend my honor!"
"I need you to take a deep breath."
"You take a deep breath! That toad called me a little girl because I offered to help
him with his stupid website."
"I know. Insecure adults get offended when someone younger thinks they can do
something better than they can."
"Crap on a fish stick! What do you mean think I could do better?"
Edward's head lulled back. "Bella," he groaned.
"Okay, I'm sorry," I said pretend-calmly, trying to snap out of my anger. "This is
your first day back. Focus on you."
"No, I don't want the focus to be on me. I pretty much want it to be on anything
else, as long as it's happy thoughts."
"Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts," I muttered. "Let's talk Lord of the
Rings. Damn, that Return of the King was filmmaking at it's finest. I never wanted it to the end.
It almost didn't."
"You'd think with all the endings in that movie, they might be able to find one that
didn't deviate from the books."
My happy thoughts discussion was going terribly. "How much does Harry Potter
suck? And, geez, Daniel Radcliffe. What an ugly wanker."
Edward was on the verge of laughing and I was about to drive it home when a sharp
whistle broke through the empty hall. Edward was just as stumped as I was.
My eyes zeroed in on the soda machine as a whip of movement flashed from behind
it. A second later, Emmett poked out his nose and waved me over.
"Emmett is hiding behind that soda machine and wants us to go over to him."
"Stop pointing, Bella," Emmett whisper-shouted. "Do you not know how to be
covert?"
"Is that what you think you're being?" I asked, grabbing Edward's hand and walking
over to him.

  367  
 He was on the move before we could reach him. "Follow me. It's not safe to talk
here."
An apprehensive expression darted between Edward and me, but we followed
anyway, all the way past the parking lot to the empty baseball stadium. I flipped up my hood
to keep the drizzle from soaking through my hair.
"We can talk freely here, unless you suspect Coach Swan keeps secret cameras
around to spy on the players."
"He doesn't," we both said.
"Great. I brought you both here because I need help with the senior prank."
"Why?" Edward asked. "I thought it was just the senior class coming to school
dressed up as infamous characters throughout history."
"That's not a prank. That's the decoy to make the senior class think they're all
participating and the administration think they're getting off easy. It's not a real senior prank
unless it gets everyone sent home from school early. I have the idea. I just need a couple of
brains to implement it."
"Has that ever happened before?"
"Nope. The senior classes that came before us were seriously uncreative."
"What's the plan?" Edward asked, to which Emmett gave a hesitant scowl. "You
can't expect us to agree to something without knowing what we're getting into."
"Fine. But you have to swear on each other's lives you won't tell anyone."
"I certainly will not–"
"I swear on Edward's life." Edward shot me a hard glare. "What?" I asked, feeling
the beginnings of curiosity peek through my anger at Principal Benson's insult. Yes, I was
still on that.
"Fine. I swear on Bella's life I won't tell anyone."
Emmett nodded. "Good enough for me. Have you ever seen The Shawshank
Redemption?"
"We watched it together in English three weeks ago," Edward said.
"That's right. Well, I've had it on repeat since then. Best movie ever. And it gave me
the idea. You know the part where Andy hijacks the prison's intercom system to play
‘Sull'aria, Che soave zeffiretto’ for the prisoners?" His diction was ridiculously perfect for such a
big dude. "I want to do that, but more sophisticated-like."
It wasn't a horrible plan. I only spotted one problem. "Didn't Andy get a week in the
hole for that?"
"Two weeks. I'm sure with modern technology we can figure out a way not to get
caught. Well, you guys can figure it out if you're as smart as I think you are."
Edward scoffed in an obviously-we-are-that-smart kind of way. "We could do it, but
how is playing music going to get anyone out of school?"
"That's only stage one. I'll reveal the second stage if you guys agree." Edward and I
shared a private, silent conversation. I could see the same hesitance swimming in his eyes
that I felt in mine. If caught, something like this would devastate our chances of getting into
an Ivy League school. It was too risky. We had both agreed on no, when Emmett threw in
the clincher, "Come on, guys. Get busy living, or get busy dying."
"Get busy living," Edward repeated from under his breath. It was as if those words
alone brought the color back to his face and the aliveness back to his smile. This was the
kind of thing Mrs. Evans would have begged us to do.

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 "Personally," I said, "I think it's highly stupid to call your student a little girl,
especially when she has the power to hardcore screw you over."
Edward kissed my forehead. He knew where I was going with this.
"So… you're in?" Emmett asked.
"On one condition. I get to choose the song."
Emmett rubbed his hands together excitedly. "Make it a good one."
"Oh, it will be."
It was on.

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 Chapter 37: The First Time

April 7, 2006, was the day I became a woman.

Not because I made love for the first (and fourth) time in my life. Not because of
how beautiful and empowered and irresistible Edward made me feel. It wasn't the fire in his
eyes or the intensity of his breath or any of the reactions his body had to mine or mine to
his.
It was the after.

Morning.

English was a grating subject when all of Emmett McCarty's hopes and dreams
would either be dashed or surpassed in three minutes time. I was wearing Marilyn Monroe
and feverishly tapping my pen against the textbook. The impulse to chew on the pen cap had
almost won when Edward whispered, "No pen-chomping today," and pried the pen from
my fingers, replacing it with his hand.
"I'm nervous."
"Don't be. We have this," he said, eyes full of mischief above an easy smile. Plotting,
pillaging, and problem-solving our way through the senior prank had done wonders for his
heartache since Mrs. Evans' passing. "Now, last chance, tell me what song you chose."
I shook my head, the curls of my platinum blonde wig bouncing against my
cheekbones. I'd managed to keep that particular detail a secret for the last three weeks,
worried Edward or Emmett would nix my song choice. It was driving Edward bonkers.
"Come on," he urged quietly. "It's too late to change it now, even if I don't like it."
"Wait two minutes and be surprised."
"I don't want–"
"Mr. Cullen."
"Yes, Mr. Berty," Edward answered without missing a beat.
"Did you hear the question?"
"No, sir." Well, maybe he'd missed a beat or two.
"I asked how you could personally relate to Romeo, given your…" Mr. Berty nodded
to our joined hands.
Edward sniffed. "I can't."
I dropped his hand like a hot potato. "You can't?" I asked, as the term "public
dumping" was muttered amongst our classmates.
"Certainly not," Edward said. "How could I possibly relate to a character that claims
to love two separate women in the span of twenty pages?"
Mr. Berty leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "Some say Romeo's feelings
for Rosaline were infatuation, not love."
"Undoubtedly, it was," Edward said. "I argue that what he felt for Juliet was also the
better side of infatuation."
"And you base this argument on…?"
"The love I have fills the entire capacity of my heart, and so claimed Romeo of
Rosaline. I'm not so fickle that another woman could distract me from it." Edward gave me

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one of his sizzling stares. "I have no doubt the play would have ended very differently had
Bella Swan crossed Romeo's path. He would have dismissed Juliet as quickly as he dismissed
Rosaline, for there is no one fairer or more beautiful in this world or any other."
I bit my lip and tried not to look too pleased as several envious glares shot my
direction. One girl dressed as Tonya Harding looked like she wanted to take me out with her
ice skates.
The strum of an electric guitar jolted the class from its Edward-induced haze, me
included. Holy macaroni was the intercom loud. We'd set the volume as high as possible to
maximize irritation, but hadn't predicted our school's antiquated intercom system could
produce quite this much noise.
Deafness aside, I gave an internal howl that our prank was actually working, and
tried to pretend I was as confused as the other students. Edward didn't have the same
problem, what with trying to identify the song by the opening chords and being unable to. It
wasn't a song overly familiar to our generation.
My excitement nearly boiled over when the lyrics started, loud and clear over the
intercom.

"I am woman, hear me roar

In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back and pretend…"

Edward sat back and shook his head, amused. " ‘I Am Woman?’ Really?"
A glance around the room – everyone chatting in groups, pointing to the speakers or
covering their ears – made me feel safe enough to say, "He called me a little girl."
"Well, this is quite the reckoning."
My smile grew as I pictured Principal Benson scrambling to turn off the intercom.

"If I have to, I can do anything

I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman."

They were probably unplugging the switchboard and realizing our song was running
on its own input right about now. I was, as the song said, invincible.
"Check it out," I said, nodding to Emmett. "Helen Reddy empowered an entire
generation with this song and now she's empowering Al Capone." He had his eyes closed
and was bobbing his head along with the catchy, twangy tune.
"I have to hand it to you, Bella. You still manage to surprise me four years later. I
had money on something Britney Spears."
"I wanted to make a statement."

"And I come back even stronger

Not a novice any longer
'cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul…"

"You achieved your mission, I believe."

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 I held my finger to my lips, so I could enjoy the last chorus of the song, never having
felt so bold or so high. Helen was singing directly into my spirit, making me believe I could
do anything I put my mind to. The murmurs of the class came into focus as the music faded
to a close, a little bit of confusion, a little bit of laughter, and a lot a bit of applause. Emmett
was aching to get out of his seat to take a bow, but the success of our plan and our futures
hinged on anonymity.
"Very funny, seniors. Well done," Mr. Berty said, clapping his hands with the rest of
the class. "Now, back to Rom–" He was drowned out by the electric guitar.
Silly Mr. Berty. As if we were done.
Phase Two of Emmett's brilliant plan had been to put the song on repeat, so it could
play over and over and over and over again. It would only stop when we were released from
school, as said the school's website after I had hacked in to leave our demands. Little girls
with quick fingers could do a lot of damage.
"Testing. Testing. TESTING!" Ms. Cope's voice broke over the intercom, shouting to
be heard over Helen's voice. Phase Three: Dual Intercom Access, so that we'd actually be
able to hear when we were released from school. Challenging though it had been, there was
nothing Edward and I couldn't achieve when we put our minds together. "Students and faculty,
please stay where you are and under control as we figure out this glitch in our intercom system. Things will
return to normal shortly."
Things wouldn't.
Twenty minutes into the prank, the students were betting on how long it would take
the administration to stop it. Two hours into the prank, we'd blown them all away. Because
educating was impossible, the teachers had been pulled from the classrooms to search the
school for my input (not that they had a clue what they were looking for or had a shot in hell
at finding it), and the students had been granted an extra long siesta in the cafeteria. It was
only a matter of time before the administration gave in completely. The whole school knew
it.
Due to how large the cafeteria was, the chords of “I Am Woman” were hollow, the
volume spread thin, giving a few hundred hyper teens the floor for conversation and
speculation. Edward, Emmett, and I were having a blast deflecting suspicion onto some of
our more annoying classmates.
"It just seems like the kind of thing Mike would do," Edward was telling Angela for
the fifth time, when there was a tap on my shoulder.
I twisted around to find Chief Swan looming over the table. They'd called the cops?
This was officially going down in Forks history. "Hey, Dad!"
"Good. I finally found the right Marilyn. Can I have a word?"
"Sure," I said perkily. This pretending-to-be-innocent thing was too easy; I just had
to act like all the other students who were as excited as I was. "How awesome is this senior
prank?" I asked, once we were in a quieter corner of the cafeteria. There was a speaker above
us but it was high enough that we could still hear each other.
"Well, let's see. All of the teachers are frantically searching the school for God-
knows-what, Mr. Benson is beside himself, and the cops had to be called. We're talking
public disturbance, destruction of public property, and thousands of wasted taxpayer
dollars." He rearranged his glower into a smirk. "On a scale of one to ten, I'd give it an
eight."
"Eight? Only an eight?"

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 "I'll boost it to a ten when the student body gets dismissed from school, which I'd
say is about fifteen minutes away."
"Do you have that on authority?"
Charlie pointed up and almost immediately a voice came over the intercom, fighting
Helen Reddy to be heard. "Students and faculty of Forks High, this is Principal Benson and I have a
message to the person or persons responsible for this exploit. This is a severe, unlawful offense. There is a
laundry list of crimes you will be charged with when – not if, when – you are caught. On top of that, you
will not walk at graduation or be allowed to attend prom. If you come forward with the information necessary
to return the intercom to its original state, you will be granted a reprieve. This offer will not be extended
again. You have fifteen minutes to comply. Come forward now and stop disturbing this environment of
learning."
"That is the sound of desperation."
"He sounds frazzled," I concurred.
"Truth is these senior pranks are hardly ever traced back to their originators unless
they are stupid enough to brag about it to other students or, worse, actually come forward."
He was giving me the hard-eye.
"I don't think these pranksters would be that stupid," I assured him. "I haven't heard
so much as a rumor about who it could be."
"Good. Of course, I wouldn't expect anything less from these masterminds. Not
only did they hack into the intercom system, they managed to move the entire thing over to
a separate electrical source so that if we cut the power, the only thing that doesn't work is the
principal's switchboard. For my own curiosity, I would be interested to know how that was
achieved."
"I couldn't tell you." Even if I'd wanted to, that was all Edward.
He nodded. "I only hope they didn't leave any fingerprints."
"I'm sure they didn't," I said, trying not to smile too much. "Someone that clever
probably knows how to cover a trail."
"Yep. She probably has a remarkable father who taught her how to be a smart
criminal."
"Why do you assume it's a she?"
He again pointed up. "I am woman, hear me roar…"
I hadn't fully thought that one through. "It could be a guy trying to throw you off his
scent."
"Your mother used to sing this song to you when you were a baby."
"Did she?"
"Yep." He rocked on his heels once. "It was a good choice for today."
"Thank you." He quirked an eyebrow. "And I say that on behalf of the entire female
student body."
He chortled through his mustache. "Okay, I better get back to the search party. Do
me one favor? Tell Emmett to cool it."
He nodded behind me to where Emmett was standing on a table, leading a crowd of
sophomore boys in a rousing chorus.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I think we both know Emmett isn't capable of cooling it."
"What about your boyfriend? Can he be talked down?"
I whipped back around. Emmett was helping Edward onto the table. "Oh, my God,"
I laughed as Edward started swaying with the music. "Can we just let him be? I haven't seen
him this happy since…" How long had it been? "Since the proposal."

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 "Ah," Charlie agreed.
"Let's just sit back and enjoy this. We have Al Capone and Hugh Hefner, and – look!
– there goes Richard Nixon, dancing on a table to ‘I Am Woman.’ It doesn't get stranger
than this."
The boys were rocking out. Emmett passed Edward the "microphone" (a water
bottle), and he chanted, "If I had to, I can do anything. I am strong."
The entire cafeteria sang backup. "Strong!"
"I am invincible."
"Invincible!"
"I am womaaa-aa-an."
He was delectable. I only wished I had the guts to get up there with him.
"I'll see you Sunday, Marilyn," Charlie said.
Was he still here? "Wait. Don't you mean tonight?"
"I think you have a sleepover planned with Angela."
"I do?"
"Tell me one thing before I go. If we switch off the entire school's power supply, will
that stop it?"
"Don't you think these alleged 'masterminds' would have thought of that?"
"That's my girl."

Afternoon.

"Are we going to Mrs. Evans' house?" I asked Edward as we zoomed past Port
Angeles. He had herded me into the Volvo for some kind of surprise as soon as we'd been
released from school.
"Nope," he said mysteriously. "Do you think we met Emmett's expectations?"
"Are you kidding me? Met and surpassed." I readjusted my feet on the dashboard
and let my hand surf the rushing air. We hadn't been able to stop talking about the prank all
afternoon. "I gotta say, after all that work, I think he was even more impressed that you got
up on the table with him."
He gave me a mega-watt smile. "You saw that?"
"I think the whole school saw that."
"It's part of my new life philosophy. From now on, I'm going to ask myself, 'Will I
regret not doing this tomorrow?' If the answer is yes, then I'm going to do it."
"What brought this on?"
"Grandma. Death has a way of reminding us that the time we have is not infinite and
should not be wasted. You have to get busy living or get busy dying."
"I think that's an excellent way to live your life," I said, running my fingers through
my hair as the sunshine-warmed wind whipped it about. This was bliss.
"Oh, my God!" I sprung up and pulled my feet off the dashboard. "I completely
forgot to ask you this morning if you got your Dartmouth acceptance letter."
His smiled died and every cell in my body went cold. Our college acceptance letters –
the ones that mattered – had been rolling in since the first of April. Yale, Princeton, and
Cornell had accepted me and not Edward, and both Harvard and Stanford only wanted him.
Though Columbia, Brown, and Penn had accepted us both, my heart had been set on
Dartmouth ever since my letter came two days ago. For the first time, I had felt real

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enthusiasm in uprooting our lives for college, not just for Edward's Ivy League dream, but
for me. I wanted this. B had done a happy-dance in my head.
In the spirit of better communication, I had disclosed my desire to Edward, and
since Dartmouth had been Mrs. Evans' first choice for us, it was Edward's first choice, too.
If the first line of Edward's letter read "Congratulations," we were headed to New
Hampshire.
Better communication could suck it. Judging by the expression on Edward's face,
we'd totally jinxed Dartmouth.
"I didn't want to put a damper on the day."
"It's okay," I said automatically, trying to drown my disappointment. "It's not your
fault the admission people at Dartmouth are goobers."
"They must be to let us both in."
"To let us both…"
His smile resurfaced. "April Fools."
I gaped at him for a long moment before snarling, "You got in?"
"I got in."
"That was mean!" I said, smacking his arm as hard as I could.
"Hey, hey. I'm driving here!"
"I saw my whole future flash before my eyes." I needed to get me a better future.
"I couldn't resist. I'm a prankster now." It was hard to stay mad when he was so jolly.
"Aren't you thrilled? We're going to New Hampshire!"
"We're maybe going. Pull another prank. I dare you."
His grin only grew wider. "What I want more than anything in the world right now,
is to take your face between my hands and taste your lips."
I shifted in my seat to hide my blush. "Focus on the road, buddy."
"Buddy? This is bad. Fortunately, I have just the thing to make it up to you. Check it
out." He pointed to a place above the tree line, where the roof of Mrs. Evans' mansion
poked out.
"I thought you said we weren't going to your grandma's house."
"We aren't."
"Ooo-kay," I said as we turned onto the road that led directly to her mansion. A
minute later, we were sitting in front of it and I was thoroughly confused. "I thought you
said we weren't going to your grandma's house."
"This isn't my grandmother's house anymore." He winked and exited the Volvo.
Before he could make his way around to open the door for me, I joined him in front
of the vehicle. The ivy-covered mansion was even more beautiful in spring. "I thought
coming back here would be harder for you."
"This isn't the first time I've been back."
"Oh?"
"For the appraisal, home inspection, and such."
It was a shame the Cullens had decided to sell. I'd only been here twice and I already
missed the property. "I'm surprised your parents didn't handle all that stuff."
"They were here, too. It's important to have both parties present, especially in these
familial mortgage deals, to make sure everything is fair."
"Familial mortgage deals? Is your aunt trying to buy it?"

  375  
 Edward ignored my question, visibly enjoying himself. "The place has really got it all.
Room to stretch out, a gorgeous view, vaulted ceilings, eight bedrooms, five baths. Sure,
there's a fix-up here or there."
"Who in the family is buying this house?"
"Usually it would be the seller's responsibility to repair those, but considering we'll be
getting it for a steal if we decide to buy, it hardly seems fair to press my parents on too many
of the amenities."
I stared at him.
He smiled. "If you want it, this house is yours."
"Come again?"
"If you want it, I will buy you this house."
A hysterical cackle tumbled from my lips. "Y-you can't do that. You're only
seventeen."
"Bella," Edward said, catching my face in his hands. His stare penetrated mine. "If
you want it, I will buy you this house."
"April fools?"
He shook his head.
I will buy you this house. I will buy you this house. I will buy you this house. The words flew
through my head several more times until I finally got it. If I wanted it, Edward was going to
buy me a home – the home. He wasn't kidding around.
"Okay, I believe you." He released my face and I took to pacing, shockingly
clearheaded. "Do you want it?"
"I don't want my opinion to sway you one way or another. If you want to live in this
house, I will buy it."
"Are you crazy? This is a huge decision that you've thrust on me out of nowhere!"
Ah, there was the hysteria. I took a breath. "You're always going on about teamwork this,
teamwork that. Unless I'm living in this house alone, I'm not going to make this decision
without knowing where you stand."
He sighed. "All I will say is that if I was opposed to living here, I wouldn't be making
the offer."
I leaned against the hood of the Volvo and considered the future. Edward and I
could easily fill this home with love. There was charm in every stone and plenty of room for
adventure. "Do we have to make a decision today?"
"It doesn't have to be today, but it'd help keep the tension down at the will reading
this weekend if my parents could say what they intend to do with the estate."
A breeze ruffled the ivy-leaves. This is your house, they whispered. I turned away. "The
truth is, I knew I wanted this house the moment I saw it."
"As did I."
"But," I cut off Edward's gusto, "it feels a little wrong."
"Why? Because it was my grandmother's?"
"No. If anything, I feel like this is the kind of house that should be handed down
through the generations. I would be honored to live here."
"Then what's the problem?"
How to put it into the words… "We're seventeen years old and I feel like we're being
handed the world on a platter. We should be eating Ramen noodles, not buying mansions."
"You are coming into money. It's one of the great flaws in the Edward-package.
You're going to have to get over it."

  376  
 "What a burden."
"If we buy this house, we won't be purchasing a townhouse in New Hampshire," he
said, swinging our hands back and forth. "We will be 'slumming it' in an apartment for four
years. Does that ease your conscience?"
"Actually, it does a little." I looked down at our hands and then up to his luminous
face. "You really want this, don't you?"
"I want whatever you want."
"But you want this." His eyes said it all. I was inclined to give in just to satiate that
eagerness. "What would our finances look like if we decided to buy?"
"I don't want that stuff to affect your decision. If you want this house, we can make
it work."
"Aside from the fact that I'm absolutely not going to make an uninformed decision
about something that will change the rest of our lives, anything you tell me is only going to
help your case."
His gaze turned calculating as he tossed my request around. "Come with me," he
said, pulling me toward the house. "I'll explain while I give you the official tour."
Very clever, that boy was, pairing his vision for the house with the middling details
of finances. It was all too easy to get swept up in his enthusiasm.
His parents would finance the loan, and we'd move to a more vintage style of
decorating. He'd put his inheritance from Grandma Evans toward a down payment, and
we'd keep all of her furniture until we were ready to purchase our own. MyT-Spot made
enough monthly to cover about seventy-five percent of the minimum payment, and during
Christmas we'd wrap the stairwell banisters with garland and lights. He would get a job in
New Hampshire to cover the rest of the payment, and we'd convert one of the eight
bedrooms into a Harry-Potter-themed study.
"I'm not sure about that."
"You haven't heard my idea for the conjoined bathroom yet. Think Hagrid's Hut.
Little fake pumpkins everywhere and a picture of Buckbeak."
"Hardy har har," I said, as we climbed to the second floor landing. The house was
exactly the same as the last time I'd visited, sans the auction items and Mrs. Evans'
welcoming smile. I supposed the smile would become my duty if we purchased.
Or Edward's, B inserted.
"I don't like the idea of you having a job, at least not until you know how demanding
the workload at Dartmouth is going to be."
Edward waved me off. "It'll be fine. You know school has always come easy to me."
"We're going to Dartmouth, not Forks High. You're going to have your hands full
studying."
"Dartmouth's only four years. This house is the rest of our lives." He paused outside
the master bedroom, the room in which Mrs. Evans had given me her wedding dress. "I
know it'll be hard work, but I also know it'll be worth it. This is going to be our bedroom."
He swung the door open and my heart nearly stopped at the complete
transformation. A huge four-poster bed was the centerpiece, a sheer white canopy draped
artistically above a beige comforter set with brown and robin egg blue highlights. Leaves, like
the ones he'd once filled a forest floor with except for their ripe greenness, were scattered
over the blanket, and above the fireplace hung the portrait he'd painted of us that day in the
forest.

  377  
 As if in a trance, I moved to step inside the room, but Edward stopped me with a
hand to the doorpost. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I want to see it up close."
He shook his head. "Not unless I get to carry you over the threshold."
An indignant half-laugh made its way up my throat. "You're not serious. No, of
course you are. Have at it, then."
Edward smiled roguishly and swept me off my feet. It was almost bridal, what with
the silky fabric of my Marilyn dress fluttering around us. I felt light and extraordinarily happy
as he walked me through the door and steadily placed me inside. He'd put a lot of thought
into our room, even putting a matching cushion at the foot of the bed for Willow. I never
wanted to leave.
After flicking a switch to turn on the fireplace, Edward shrugged off his suit jacket
and loosened his tie. I watched him as he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. "What?" he
asked, pausing midway up his left arm.
"Nothing." The French doors invited me to peer out onto the balcony. "You just
look at home here already."
"Already?" he asked, smiling crookedly. "Meaning, I look at home here, as we begin
our journey into home-ownership?"
"You look at home here, before we've even come to a decision about home-
ownership."
"What is there to decide, Bella? We could have this house."
A thick, forest-themed wreath framed the French doors. I touched a twig. "You put
a lot of thought into this."
"Indeed." Edward hopped onto the bed and said seductively, "Care to join me, Miss
Swan? It's very comfortable."
"Is it now?" I sauntered over to him and held out my hand so he could draw me to
him. A covered tray, two wineglasses, and a cooling bottle of sparkling cider were tucked
away on a corner table. "What's that?"
"Refreshments for later."
"Later?"
"Yes. For after this." He pulled me into a deep kiss, the kind that made butterflies
rupture all over my body, even after four and a half years. Today, he tasted of caramel and
senior pranks and bliss. His hand trailed down my arm, leaving bewitched goosebumps in its
wake. The kiss intensified, blowing thoughts of mortgages and homework to the place where
I kept all of our future prospects locked up tight.
With a twirl, I was under him, parting my legs so he could fit seamlessly between. It
had been months since we'd experienced this kind of intimacy, and I'd forgotten how awake
it could make me feel.
"There are no interruptions today," Edward said against my lips. "I want you to just
lay back and enjoy the ride."
"Enjoy the ride?" I giggled.
He pulled back slightly. "Too much? It sounded sexy in my head."
"It was totally sexy." My hands rose above my head and gripped the pillow, hopefully
giving him the best vantage point of my cleavage. "Ride away."
He momentarily cocked his head to the side with the most delicious grin, before
diving in with aplomb. The thinner material of my dress made the sensations come faster
and greater than I'd experienced before, and soon my lips were too occupied with trying to

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catch a breath to kiss Edward. He moved down to my neck. I had to touch him, to feel the
power in his arms, the rippling of his back. I couldn't hear anything but the creak of the bed
and the string of yeses tumbling out without thought or filter. It was too much and not
enough.
I heard a grunt and my eyes flew open. How dare they close in the first place? His
face was pure ecstasy, glorious and uninhibited, the embodiment of his new life philosophy.
My heart was blazing. Or maybe that was the growing tension in my abdomen. It was all the
same right now. Another thrust, and my toes curled. One more, and my mouth popped
open to embarrassing proportions.
It was at that unfortunate moment, as I turned my head to conceal my reaction, that
I caught sight of the refreshment tray and something clicked into place: the leaves, the
fireplace, the bed… He's about to pop your cherry.
"Wait, wait, wait. Oh, God," I moaned as a wave of something awesome rolled over
my entire body. Forget it. It's not worth missing this. "Wait. Please, Edward. Wait. I have a
question."
My request held no conviction, but he complied like any man of honor would,
rolling off me and landing on the pillows with a dramatic thud. A second to catch my breath
was all that I allotted before I asked, "What is this?"
"Some refer to it as dry humping."
"But what is this?"
His gaze ran the entire length of my body before he said, "It's anything you want it
to be."
"Anything?"
"I reiterate, anything."
"As in…" a shudder ran from my head to my toes, "sex?"
His breath tickled my skin with a chuckle. "As in."
I shot up, stumbling out of the bed. My whole body thrummed, from anticipation or
anger, I didn't know.
Edward situated his hands behind his head. "Problem, dear?"
Anger. It was definitely anger. "You're trying to seduce me so I'll agree to buy this
house," I accused. "You prostitute!"
"Don't be silly. I thought you'd agree to purchase the house upon arrival, but you're
being obstinate and stubborn as usual. Everything was arranged ahead of time. Willow's with
my parents and Charlie's happily pretending you're at Angela's. I was going to take you up
here and suggest we christen our new home, but I'll happily settle for taking advantage of an
empty house if you wish to remain, as previously stated, obstinate and stubborn."
He was being so cavalier it only served to mystify me further. "What about your
virtue and marriage and your perfect fantasy?"
Edward swiveled out of the bed and strolled over, parking behind me. "It doesn't
matter anymore," he whispered in my ear.
"But–"
"It really doesn't. Looking back, I don't think it ever did."
I stood there, completely stumped. One minute he was offering to buy me a house,
the next he was willing to give in on the sex thing. World on a platter didn't begin to cover it.
"Where is this coming from?"
"Does it matter?"

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 "Would it matter to you if I changed my mind about getting married at the drop of a
hat and didn't explain why?"
"Not particularly. I'd just assume you'd come to your senses."
"Have you ever heard the term 'thin ice'?"
"Fine. I'll explain, given that it's nearly impossible to maintain an erection under ice-
cold water," he said, pressing into my backside. If he was serious, this wasn't going to be a
very long discussion. "Although, I have to say, I'm surprised you're surprised. Have you
forgotten our vows so soon?"
To love, cherish, and fuck. Of course, I hadn't. "I didn't realize they would change
your feelings on sex. I thought maybe, maybe, you'd reconsider once we were living together.
Otherwise, I thought you'd still want to wait."
"I'm done waiting for the stuff I want, and Bella," he swept my hair over my right
shoulder and placed a kiss just above my collarbone, "every single night since the day I met
you, I've ached to be inside you. I'm not scared to embrace that anymore."
"You were scared? Of what?"
"Being one hundred percent vulnerable. Your father's shotgun. Not knowing how to
pleasure you. An assortment of complications, if you will." My cheeks flooded with heat.
They weren't the only parts blushing. "What about you? Are you scared?"
I felt Edward fiddling with the zipper of my dress. "Nervous. But not scared," I said
as he tugged it down.
He skimmed my now bare lower back with his fingertips. "Then what are we waiting
for? We're desperately in love, have this big, empty house to ourselves and the weekend to
figure out what the hell we're doing."
I let out a breath and tried to grasp the magnitude of this moment. We were just two
people in a house on a small piece of land off the edge of America, but this felt like the most
important thing in the world. This felt like life.
"Look at me." He turned me around and lifted my chin. "I know you've wanted this
for a long time, but we don't have to do it today. I have no expectations, only a willing heart,
mind, and body."
"April fools?"
"Not a chance."
I reached back and unclasped the halter of my dress to let it pool at my feet, ready
for where the night would take us.

Night.

The moonlight streamed through the French doors, dimly illuminating Edward next
to me. It reminded me of when I had snuck into his room and watched him sleep, only now
I was allowed to trace the lines of his body. He hadn't wanted to fall asleep, but especially
after that last round, he was spent. He'd kept his eyes trained on mine as long as he could
before they reluctantly fluttered close.
I couldn't feel more awake. Sex was everything and nothing like I had expected.
Certain aspects of it had unquestionably been romanticized over the years, but the parts that
stuck out were all the wonderful ones: his fingers, the light sheen of sweat we'd built up, the
moment he'd entered me. His back. I held my fingers up and observed them against the

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flames from the fireplace, recalling the way they ran along Edward's back in pace with his
thrusts.
"Perfect," I found myself whispering. It was also clumsy, often awkward, and a few
times painful. It was Swirl and me – imperfectly perfect.
From where I was lying, the French doors provided a threshold to the night sky,
almost like a portrait. It was overcast, but the full moon was strangely bright, throwing a
navy blue hue over the veil of clouds. A wide ring circled the moon, like a halo, and for the
briefest of moments I thought of Mrs. Evans watching over us. I bit my lip to repress a
laugh, remembering how the idea had repulsed Edward when we spoke of it last month.
Wherever she was, whatever she was doing, I knew she was proud of him and how he was
honoring her legacy by living his life to the fullest. I hoped I was making her proud, too.
Rotating my body so as not to disturb Edward, I slipped from under the sheets and
planted my feet on the cool, hardwood floor. After a look back to ensure he was still
sleeping comfortably, I tiptoed over to the French doors and made my way to the stone
balcony.
The spring air was nippy (pun intended) but not unbearably so. After Helen Reddy
all morning and what had at least seemed like a noisy afternoon, the quiet out here was
arresting. If only I knew how to read what time it was by the moon. With Round Three
having lasted through sunset, it couldn't have been later than seven or eight.
Edward's o-face burst into my mind, and I couldn't help my giggle. God, it felt
amazing to not be a virgin anymore. More specifically, it felt amazing for Edward to have my
virginity. I highly doubted I'd be all glowy if it had been with anyone other than him. I was
even glad we'd waited until this time and place. Perfect days didn't come around often. More
than ever, I couldn't imagine our life together without this house.
The balcony stretched about fifteen feet, and to the right was a small, white, metallic
table set. I dragged one of the chairs over to the center of the balcony and sat down on the
icy metal, giving my bare skin a second to adjust before leaning back and propping my feet
up on the stone ridge. My legs were spread wide enough to give the trees a peepshow.
Hopefully the breeze would find its way between them to ease the prickle of discomfort I'd
been ignoring since Round One.
I sat there for a while, reflecting on today's events. When recalling an exceptionally
provocative moment, I imagined a cigarette and sucked air through my fingers. If only it was
cold enough to see my breath. Then again, I was outside and stark naked, so maybe not.
"What a day," I murmured. How bizarre that I had woken up this morning without a
clue that today was the day my entire life had been leading up to. I brought my legs down
from the ridge and sat up, hating the nature of my thoughts. It sounded so… "Pathetic."
Of course it is, B said. You just asserted that seventeen years of life experience has led you to sex.
Fond though I am, sex does not a life make.
I hadn't meant sex, per se. I'd meant Edward. He was the culmination of my life
experiences.
Is he?
"Stop ruining this for me!" I slapped a hand over my mouth and peeked through the
French doors to see that Edward hadn't moved. He was a heavy sleeper – adorable. I
officially didn't want to think about my feelings anymore; I wanted to nakedly sit here in my
post-coital glow like a normal girl.
No, you want to answer the question. Is Edward all that you are?

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 Yes. Thinking of all my big achievements – MyT-Spot, my SAT score, my Ivy
League acceptance letters – it had all been for him.
Was it?
"Why do you keep second-guessing me?"
The real question: Why do you keep second-guessing yourself?
Oh! Oh, it hurt. I put my head in my hands and leaned over. I was onto something,
but what? Think about it. I was thinking, I just didn't know about what anymore. Everything
in my brain was so all over the place, I couldn't remember what had brought this on. Hell, I
couldn't remember what "this" was.
What are you trying to resolve? Start from the beginning.
My head popped up. "Oh, my God," I groaned. "B is me."
Since she had first appeared, I had considered her as something separate, something
other, because it was easier than taking ownership of all the things I felt but didn't want to
feel, all the things I thought but I didn't want to think. I'd forgotten she wasn't a separate
entity. B was me. Duh.
The time had come, right here on this balcony, to face reality. B was a part of me,
which meant part of me wanted the things she wanted, and didn't want the things she didn't
want. It was time to stop talking to myself and to start listening.
"I can do this." Why had I gone to such ridiculous lengths to avoid my thoughts and
feelings? What was I so scared of? I stood and took to pacing, hoping it would loosen up my
body. It was as if every muscle – nay, every cell – knew I was on the cusp of some big self-
discovery.
Why is B, who is me, afraid of getting married?
The answer had presented itself on the night of the proposal, I just hadn't liked it
very much: marriage would squash my potential.
The difference between the proposal and right now was that I had accepted over the
last month that I did have potential. There was a whole other person locked up inside here
that I'd never recognized – a brilliant, creative person. My panic had been a manifestation of
her screaming to get out. The senior prank had released her.
I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, I was capable of amazing things, especially when
I had Edward to bounce off of. How could marrying him ruin that? Wouldn't being with
him magnify my potential?
Yes, B answered.
I stopped in my tracks. "Yes? As in, yes?" I couldn't believe she'd give in, just like
that.
Yes.
Well, okay then. Maybe she wasn't such a B after all. I searched the rest my mind for
any signs of resistance. There weren't any. I was confused. Did I just decide I wanted to get
married?
"It can't be that easy," I muttered, rubbing my temple. There had to be something
else, some underlying cause for this whole mess. A few minutes later, still nothing was
forthcoming.
I sagged against the balcony ridge, taking my brain off the issue at hand and using it
to instead admire the house – my house – and the question hit me out of nowhere: What do
you want to do with your life?
Marry Edward.

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 I cringed at the instinctual response. Marriage was great, but there was so much more
out there, and I had the potential to access it. My problem had never been that I didn't want
to get married; it was that I had never looked past it. What did I want to do with my life?
My sense of direction was pitiful to the point of ridiculousness, where Edward had
always seemed to know what he wanted. Some people were just lucky that way, I supposed.
He had been right the night of the proposal when he realized I had worked myself into his
dreams instead of having dreams of my own. He wanted a website, so I became a
programmer. He wanted Ivy League, so I worked my way into the 99+ percentile. He
wanted this house… Who was I kidding? I wanted this house. My point: His dreams had
become my dreams, but did I have any that could become his?
Staring up into the moon's brightness, I imagined the next five, fifteen, and fifty
years of my life and really wondered what I wanted them to look like. A smile tugged at my
lips as it all came into focus.
I wanted to be the Bella that Edward saw every time he looked at me. I wanted to go
to Dartmouth and kick ass. I wanted to learn everything there was to know about the
Internet and computers, and I wanted to use that knowledge to make the world a better
place. I wanted to marry Edward as a confident, successful woman. I wanted people to
whisper behind their hands as we passed them by, how we were brilliant and enthusiastic
and so Goddamn different.
It became too much. Finally, finally, I was able to answer the other question that
irked me so.
We were different because, without even realizing it, we pushed each other to be our
best selves. He would have never stepped out of his bubble without me and I would have
never seen the backend of a website without him. I was the key to unlocking his confidence
and he was the key to unlocking my talent. I had always known it on some level, but this felt
so much more profound. We were going to change the world. I could feel it in my bones.
There was only one thing I knew would clip our wings, and it was going to hurt like a
mother to let go.
I turned to the house. It was breathtakingly beautiful in the glow of night, but wasn't
anything you were about to say goodbye to perfect in the loss of it?
"I'm sorry, but it's not going to work out," I said, hugging the pain. "I love you, but I
can't be the woman I want to be if I have you to pay off when we're just starting out."
I paused to give the house a moment to plea for my change of heart.
"It's completely understandable that you'd want Edward and me to stay, especially
with the afternoon we just showed you. But no offense, I'd rather see Edward for the next
four years than see you every day for the rest of my life."
There. I had been epiphanized, and I had done it all bare-ass naked. The urge to do
something crazy reemerged with a vengeance, but this time it was voiceless and didn't carry
with it the suffocating panic. It wanted to be liberated.
I ran my hand along the stone ridge. It was thick and wide – ideal for stupid. I
dropped the metal chair right in front of it and used it to wobble my way onto the ledge.
If you have to, fall backwards.
"I'm not going to fall," I said confidently, steadying myself. Two stories up and I felt
like I was on top of the world.
Now what?
I opened my mouth. "I am woman. Hear me roar. In numbers too great to ignore…"

  383  
 By the time the chorus hit, it couldn't even be considered singing. It didn't matter.
There was no one but the trees and the moon and the wind and, possibly, some satellite
guys. I wanted to shout my deliverance. "Whoa, yes, I am wise, but it's wisdom born of pain.
Yes, I paid a price, but look how much I've gained. If I have to, I can do anything." My arms
spread to the world and my hips moved to the imaginary music. "I am strong. I am
invincible. I am wooo-ooo-maaa-aa-an!"
My dramatic conclusion was met with applause. I grinned over my shoulder to
Edward standing in the doorway, also naked and greatly affected by my performance. "Are
you finished or did you have another selection prepared?" he asked.
"For that," I nodded to Little Edward, "I could be finished."
"Would you like me to help you down?"
"Absolutely," I said. "You're my key."
"That's one way to put it."
"This round," I jumped into his arms, "I want to be on top."
"You will find I have no objection to that whatsoever."
I am Bella. Hear me roar.

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 Chapter 38: An Interlude: The Introduction of Daisy

Edward couldn't keep his smile to himself, and with an entire week dedicated to
humming, random head bobbing, and the occasional giggle (that's right – Edward giggled),
I'd long doubted it was a Prom-induced euphoria. He hadn't even been this excited about
sex, and that was saying something. Edward loved sex. Loved it. I would know. We did it a
lot.
I chanced another glance at him. He was fiddling with his tie, smiling goofily at me.
"What is going on with you?" I asked for about the fiftieth time.
I turned onto the curvy stretch of road that would take us to the Forks Community
Center, where Prom was being held, the one proviso to my attendance being I got to drive.
In August, we would be leaving Firebolt behind like an unwanted puppy while we took
Edward's Volvo out to New Hampshire for college, which gave me only three months to
savor his hunky metal body and grumbling roar.
"Can't a man enjoy how stunning his girlfriend is without suspicion? Bella, you are
strike-me-dead-beautiful right now. I'm shocked Coach let you out of the house." The
satisfaction of his compliment filled my whole body, especially when I felt his eyes trace the
plunging v-neck of my crimson gown. I'd picked this dress on impulse, to reflect my
newfound strength. Also, Edward was a boob man.
"I know your I-think-I-have-the-hottest-girlfriend-in-Forks smile. This isn't it," I
said. He hummed mysteriously. "Come on. I know you want to tell me. You've been
practically buzzing all week."
"Have I?"
"Edward, it's time," I said, trying the tactic he always used. "Teamwork, remember?"
Edward happily bobbed along with the bumps of the road, perfectly immune to my
attempts. "How long do you suppose until we get to the Community Center?"
"I don't know. Five minutes, maybe. Why do you ask?"
The sun was setting at the end of the road, producing a brilliant mess of pinks,
oranges, and yellows. We had taken our time at dinner, without thought or care for
punctuality. Given the bareness of the roads, it was an easy assumption our fellow classmates
were already sipping Prom juice and dancing to faculty-approved music.
"I have another question," Edward said. "It's about the mansion."
A frustrated sigh made my whole body sag. "This? Again? Really? Really, Edward?"
A month ago, when he'd originally offered to buy the mansion, he'd been all, "I don't
want my opinion to sway you one way or another. If you want this house, I will buy it," and,
"This is your decision. I'm putting it in your hands." I'd underestimated his aversion to the
word, "no." I loved that house, but I wanted to change the world. A mansion-sized mortgage
and Dartmouth didn't go hand in hand, no matter how much and how often Edward tried to
convince me otherwise.
Esme hadn't made my decision any easier. Despite it being the bulk of her
inheritance, she was determined to gift it to us. On this point, Edward actually agreed. Good
kids did not graciously accept gifts worth over four million dollars from their grieving
mothers.
"But," Edward had whispered in my ear, "good children do accept hefty discounts."

  385  
 The Cullens had decided to keep the house off the market until Edward and I left
for school, a combination of giving Edward more time to figure out a way to buy the house
and giving us a private, safe place to take our "extracurricular activities." I'd made it my
personal mission to do it in every room of that house before we left in September.
"What's that smile for?" Edward asked, tickling the corner of my lip with his
forefinger.
I playfully swatted it away, and rose myself up in the seat to get a better view of the
road and sunset. "I was just thinking about the house, how much fun we have there."
"You do have a tendency to fill the halls with a certain… vocal quality."
"I'm going to miss it," I said. "I really am. I can't tell you how much I love that
house." Though I did. Often and loudly.
"So if I found a way to pay it off all at once before we left for school, you would
say…?"
"I'd say we've been over this, like, a thousand times." We had checked and re-
checked our bank accounts, added up the figures, budgeted about fifteen different scenarios.
Edward had even offered to give up The Wedding Fund, which had grown significantly over
the last year thanks to an influx of traffic to MyT-Spot. There really was no way around it.
We couldn't afford it without supplementing our income with side-jobs at Dartmouth and
even that was a stretch.
"I know we have, but things have changed since we last discussed it."
My eyebrows crinkled. "How?"
"We sold MyT-Spot," he said it so casually I thought I'd misheard him.
When he repeated himself, the pit fell out of my stomach. "But I thought–"
"That our chances of selling had died with Grandma. So did I, but I got a call from
her lawyer last week. He's been acting as her proxy since her passing."
"I'm so confused. Why didn't you know about this?"
"Mr. Jenks had a lot of reason to keep the negotiations going. I had no idea how
much the website was going to sell for and he's going to receive a huge chunk of Grandma's
portion."
"How much?"
"I don't remember the percentage, exactly."
"How much did it sell for?" I pushed. It must have been significant, like six-figures
significant, if we could afford to buy the house.
"Before I tell you, I want to explain something for the sake of full disclosure."
I tapped my thumbs on the steering wheel. "Okay, but hurry. I want to knooooow."
"Your impatience is duly noted, but I don't want to be accused of holding out on any
information come tomorrow. Because the truth is, according to Mr. Jenks, we undersold. We
probably could have sold it for double, if not triple or quadruple, what we sold it for, if we
had decided to stick with it for a few more years and really dedicated ourselves to its
development."
"Really dedicated?" I repeated. "Implying that we haven't been really dedicated for the
last five years of our lives?"
"I'm talking no-school, no-lives, ninety-hours-a-week kind of dedication."
My eyebrows crinkled. "I'm not following."
"What we sold was an idea, the technology to back it up, and a modest user base.
Mrs. Evans was a very astute businesswoman. She patented the software you programmed,
so for now it's untouchable to anyone but us, but there were other areas we could have

  386  
improved upon…" Edward continued on and on about the business side of expanding
membership and mega-revenue prospects and near-term liquidity. There was a reason I
preferred the world of character nodes and data. This was mind-numbingly dull. It wasn't
until he mentioned that Google was rumored to be acquiring Youtube for over a billion
dollars that my ears perked.
"A number, Edward. I swear, all I want is a number."
"Where are we going?" he asked, glancing out the window.
"The Community Center." I slammed on the brakes. "Which I now realize is back
that way." He had actually bored me into missing our turn, ending us up in a place with no
cars and few streetlamps.
"Well, anyway," Edward said, adjusting the strap of his seat belt as I started to make
a three-point turn. "I told Mr. Jenks that it wasn't all about the money for us. We wanted it
to go to someone who believed in it as much as we did, who would nurture it and care for it
so it could grow from a tiny sprig to a luminous willow."
My three-point turn was turning into a seven-point turn. "Edward, it's a website," I
said, slowly reversing then jamming the stick back to drive.
"That's exactly what I said when I saw the figure they were offering. Are you ready
for this? Seventeen, Bella. Seventeen. Plus Mr. Jenks was able to retain some of our shares, so
we'll get a quarterly bonus."
"Oh." Disappointment swallowed up every thought, the number seventeen so big in
its smallness, before anger punched it in the face and delivered my thoughts in a giant red
wave. "Oh!" I said in disgust. "That Jenks is a moron."
"Tell me what you really think," Edward said in surprise.
I kept my eyes hard on the road as Firebolt inched his way toward freedom. Thirteen
points really wasn't so bad for such a narrow road. "Seventeen thousand dollars is pathetic,
Edward. I just thought…" What had I thought? That we were something special? The next
Myspace or Youtube? That my programming was that kind of amazing? Yes. It freaking was.
"We deserved more."
Edward's lips were twitching.
"What?" I asked.
"I'm just wondering how long I should wait."
"For what?"
"For you to realize."
"Realize what?"
His eyes danced, teasing me. "Bella, we make more than twenty thousand a year on
MyT-Spot. Do you know how stupid it would be for me to sell the entire website for less
than that?"
"Duh. What do you think I've been saying? We should have at least gotten a hundred
thousand."
He let out a bark and hopped in his seat. "Oh, my God. This is too good."
"What?"
"Million, Bella. Seventeen million."
There was a loud ringing in my ears. "April fools?" I asked steadily, even though it
was May.
A slight turn of Edward's smirking face told me all I needed to know. This was no
joke.

  387  
 I wish I could say I kept my composure. I wish I could say I didn't let out an ear-
piercing scream, throw up my arms, and let my foot off the brake pedal. I wish I could say
that almost instantly Edward and I weren't screaming for an entirely different reason as
Firebolt rolled off the side of the road, plummeted down a small hill, and hit a tree.
I wish I could say that the first words out of my mouth as Edward and I sat panting
in a wrecked Firebolt were, "Are you okay?" rather than, "SEVENTEEN MILLION
DOLLARS! Holy shit! Holy shit! Holy shit! Seventeen million! We're fucking millionaires!
HOLY MOTHER OF…"
Edward's hard breaths curved into a smile, and then there was laughter. In all the
five years I'd known Edward Cullen, I'd never heard him laugh that loud and that
hysterically. He threw back his head and soon my laughter mingled with his.
"Why… are you… laughing?" he choked out. "You… just killed… Firebolt."
"Because we can afford to fix him!" I squealed delightfully. "We're freaking
millionaires!"
He only laughed harder.
"What about you?" I finally asked. "Are you okay? Why are you laughing?"
"Because… because…" He blew out a breath, trying to compose himself. "Because I
have a confession. I promised myself years ago I would tell you when the moment was
right." He swallowed, shaking his head. "There's something I've called you in my head since
we first started dating in middle school."
My eyebrows knitted suspiciously. "Called me?"
"A term of endearment, if you will." He grabbed my hand and twisted the daisy ring
he gave me a few summers ago around my right ring finger. "In my head, I call you…" a
small chuckle overcame him. He coughed it back down and gave me a serious expression. "I
call you Whoopsie Daisy."
I gasped and snatched my hand back. "You do not!"
"Bella, you just ran your car off the side of the road! You can not be offended by
this!"
"But that – millions! Not my fault!"
He was laughing again, slapping his knee, wiping his face. "Oh, Bella, I love you so
much. You don't even know."
Begrudgingly, a tight-lipped grin reemerged on my lips. I rolled my eyes and gave
myself to it. "Whoopsie Daisy," I repeated and glanced down at my ring affectionately. "So
that's why you've given me thousands of daisies over the years… it was all a big inside joke."
"I don't know if this helps, but you are the very first person in on the joke," Edward
offered.
I leaned back and rested my head on the seat. It wasn't difficult. The car was tilting
backward, propped up by the tree. I took the moment to think of it all… where we had
started and where we had come. Two middle schoolers. A ringer and a potterphile. An
entrepreneur and a web developer. Seventeen. Million. Freaking. Dollars. Perhaps more like
ten, with taxes and Jenks' cut. But still… A lot. Of freaking. Money. We'd already changed
our world. Now it was time for the rest of it.
My head lolled toward Edward. He was watching me with a gentle smile. "So," I said,
"I guess that would make us Daisy and Swirl."
"Guess so," he said.
"I love you."
"I love you."

  388  
 I let it sink in for one more minute, before letting out a last chuckle and reaching for
my cellphone. "We should probably call my dad. Get a tow truck out here." I paused. "Or…
Do you think we have time to, um…" I glanced down at his pants and waggled my
eyebrows.
Edward looked around, considering. The sun had almost set. Only a few resilient
rays of light illuminated the forest around us. "If anyone had seen us go off the road," he
said practically, "they would have come to check by now."
"And anyway," I added, "it only seems fitting to give Firebolt a proper bon voyage.
You know, before we send him to a premium auto shop to be fixed."
Edward unsnapped his buckle and patted the space right next to him with a cheeky
grin. That night, we made it to Prom with fifteen minutes to spare.
We never regretted it.

  389  
 Chapter 39: A Farewell

"Hey, Bella! Bella!" Jessica Stanley whisper-hissed over Lee Stephens. I turned from
the sea of ugly, yellow graduation caps in front of me to look at her. "Is it true you and
Edward did an interview for TIME magazine?"
I instantly wished I had ignored her and pretended to be absorbed by Principal
Benson's speech on our potential and the hard work it would take to fulfill it. If only. I'd
been drifting in and out for the past ten minutes, choosing instead to admire Edward, our
class valedictorian, who was sitting on the raised platform just behind Benson with the other
speakers and honorees. Binoculars would have been handy at a time like this.
"It was only a little interview for a blurb on young entrepreneurs," I whispered back.
"Oh. Em. Gee. You're, like, totally famous," she said.
"I – um, no," I said with a tight-lipped smile.
We had tried to keep the MyT-Spot deal a secret until after graduation, but there was
no restraining the cat in that bag. It seemed like the whole town knew by the end of Prom
weekend, and now we had no choice but to manage a slew of gossip and inquiries we were
not prepared for, from a bunch of people who had hardly ever spared us two glances.
"What about the party tonight? Do you have any inside deets? I heard there's going
to be an actual white tiger."
"That's all Alice," I answered shortly. Alice had begged and begged for us to let her
throw a graduation party at Mrs. Evans' mansion – our mansion. Edward was the one who
had finally conceded after Jasper called, begging for the sake of his sanity. There were
conditions, though. All bedrooms were locked up tight, especially ours, and Alice had to do
all the work. She better not have ordered a white tiger.
"Who's DJing?" Jessica pressed. "Is it true you got–"
Benson's voice floated above hers. "… a student who exemplifies the determination,
will, and work ethic necessary to follow…"
"Shh. Shh. Shh." I swatted away Jessica's questions. "This is Edward."
Benson wasn't going to give up the microphone so easily. He took another two
minutes to announce in embarrassing detail all the things Edward and I had tried to keep
quiet over the past couple weeks, finishing his introduction with a note about all the
achievements he was sure Edward was going to accomplish at Dartmouth. Normally I would
be thrilled for such admiration to be thrown Edward's way, but the more Benson spoke, the
more flustered Edward seemed to get. He'd come a long way from that boy who hardly
spoke in eighth grade, but speaking in public was still not his forte.
I let out a ripping stream of hollars above the crowd's applause as Edward took the
podium. His gaze flitted in my direction, his mouth warming into a smile. Pride swelled in
my chest. This was my man. As the gym quieted, he laid out his speech-covered papers and
took a deep breath.
"Hello, Forks High Graduating Class of 2006," he said with a small wave and a
nervous chuckle. "Today, I stand before you tasked with representing 153 individual high
school experiences. I wouldn't dare. It would be an injustice to even attempt it. 153 students
could all go see the exact same baseball game. Inevitably, 153 different sets of memories will
walk out of that stadium. Realizing this is one of the more beautiful things about high

  390  
school, particularly when you learn that it is our differences, not our similarities, that define
who we are."
So far, so good, I thought. I didn't know what he had planned or where he was going.
He'd staunchly refused to give me so much as a sneak peek of his speech.
"With that said, there is one very important thing all 153 of us have in common.
We're each walking out of here with a diploma in hand." The entire student body exploded
into a chorus of applause and cheers. "Yes, we're all very excited. But for some, maybe,
there's also a feeling of loss. Tomorrow, we wake to a world where we don't see the faces of
our teachers and classmates five days a week; where we don't come back to this building,
which, for four years, has been our home away from home; where goodbye is a necessity for
growth."
I didn't know about all that. I, personally, was getting pretty antsy to move clear
across the country where nobody knew my name or financial status.
"It's a lot to process, but there's someone in this audience who summed up the
whole experience much better than I ever could in the admissions essay that got her
accepted to no less than seven Ivy League colleges." I sat stock-still as Edward turned the
page of his speech. He couldn't mean… "I'd like to read you an excerpt of this essay, written
by Bella Swan, who earned a reputation so geeky, her nickname is Harry Potter Girl. As a
side note, she was also the Homecoming queen."
There was not a red known to man that could match the deep flush of my cheeks as
everyone turned to look at me. I slid down in my seat and tried to hide my face with my cap.
Oh, my God. I was going to kill him.
" 'Dear Mr. Harry Potter,' " he read out loud and clear. The crowd tittered and a few
"Whoop! Whoops!" floated my way. I wanted to sink into the Earth and dissolve into a
billion tiny particles of matter. The smile in Edward's voice was evident as he continued.
" 'I will always cherish the memories we have together: the midnight release parties,
the hand-painted posters, the vast collection of Potterphernalia I have acquired over these
last several years. You have been my friend, have taught me about growing up, have inspired
me and given me the courage to fight for what I want.
" 'An idea has ignited within me a passion stronger than I have ever known; it is a
vision of me in college, working toward something much greater than an obsession with a
fictional character, working, perhaps, toward something created by me. That idea doesn't
become reality if I'm planning your next release party.' "
Snickers rose from the crowd in tiny bursts, some lines drawing louder laughs than
others. I found myself reluctantly joining in. I was still going to flay Edward alive for this,
but the way he read it with confident humor didn't make it sound so very terrible.
" 'It is with sadness and regret, but also a strong feeling of hope and rightness, that I
must inform you of our parting of ways. The top shelf on my bookcase that once belonged
to you will soon play host instead to an assortment of textbooks and binders. The posters of
you that have hung on my wall since I was a young girl will be packed away in boxes and
replaced with homework assignments and charts of code and data. My wardrobe will
drastically change from that of Gryffindor scarves and Quidditch jerseys to the proud colors
of…' " Edward paused. "This was where she inserted the colors of whichever college she
was applying to." The crowd laughed again.
"The essay goes on for another several paragraphs, very creatively weaving Miss
Swan's extensive resume and personal attributes throughout an emotional goodbye. It's the
conclusion, though, that I'm particularly fond of." Finally, my humiliation ebbed enough to

  391  
chance a peek from under my cap. Edward was looking right at me, glowing. I rolled my
eyes and smiled back, giving him my blessing to finish his speech. Who was I kidding? I
never could stay mad at that man.
" 'Mr. Potter,' " he said, " 'I've loved every minute I've spent in your magical world,
but it's time I start having my own adventures. I've come to see that the real world we live in
has a magic all its own, and that with hard work and perseverance, we can write our own life
stories. Better yet, we can live them. Here I am, moving on from you, Harry Potter, but
hopefully never forsaking the magic.
" 'Yours Truly, Bella Swan.' "
The gym filled with applause. "Go, Bella!" I heard my dad shout from somewhere
behind me. Emmett was catcalling loudly a few rows ahead. I burrowed my face in my
palms, too embarrassed to so much as raise a hand in acknowledgement.
"That was awesome," I heard Jessica say. She was tugging at my sleeve. I doubted
she would have thought so if I wasn't worth millions now.
"My fellow classmates," Edward addressed the crowd again, "All the things that Mr.
Benson said about me before I came up here are true. I got good grades. I'm going to
Dartmouth. Bella and I are now, at the risk of sounding extremely rude, completely loaded.
But my biggest success and greatest happiness is the one that comes easiest to me, the one I
don't work at, because it comes to me like breathing." His stare was piercing. "Love."
I put my hand over my heart and mouthed, "I love you," back.
"Whatever you do, live your life," he said. "Make it what you want it. Be happy.
That's the true measure of success.
"I leave you with one last short poem from my personal hero, J.R.R. Tolkien.

“All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

“From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king."

The crowd was silent, as if waiting for more. Clearly feeling the pressure, Edward
suddenly called, "To The Lord of the Rings!" with an impulsive fist pump. I clamped a hand
over my mouth and almost fell out of my chair with laughter. There was no better way for
the Ringer to end his speech.
Edward turned to retake his seat, and the applause and cheers and laughter was even
louder than before. It took Mr. Benson a solid minute to settle the graduating class down
enough to present the next speaker. It took even longer for the smile to slide off my face,
but Ms. Cope, who I'd never liked in the first place, managed to do it eventually when she
got up to recite a long, boring poem from some long, boring book in a long, boring voice.
I took the opportunity to slip from my sleeve a graduation program we'd been given
before the start of the ceremony. It listed all the members of our graduating class, as well as
the speaking schedule. I'd used it as a makeshift yearbook for my friends to sign.

  392  
 My actual yearbook was filled to capacity with several inscriptions from classmates
who "didn't have much of a chance to get to know" me but knew what an "awesome
person" I was, dozens of congratulations on all my inevitable future successes, and at least
five doodles of Harry Potter with his wand and lightning bolt scar. There was only about
half a page of blank space left, which Edward had reserved by boxing it in and penning a
small threat to anyone who dared sign there. The sophomore known as "Suspense" had
amassed the guts to write within the forsaken lines, "You'll always be the girl of my dreams, Bella Swan."
Edward had retaliated over lunch by "accidentally" spilling a cup of ice-cold water over
Suspense's nether region.
As Ms. Cope droned on, I perused my friends' final thoughts on our time in high
school. Alice's bubbly, all caps signature caught my attention, particularly the first line. "I
CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY OVER!" An emotion tugged in my stomach and I felt the
momentary impulse to cry. It was over. High school. Security. Childhood.
It surprised me how hard it hit me. It surprised me it hit me at all. I took the
moment to take it in, to feel the sorrow, to feel the grief. This was it. A few more minutes in
this gym, with these people, and it was time to move on with my life. I had written the words
of my essay so many months ago, but it never seemed as real as it did this instant, not even
when Edward was reading it out loud.
As soon as that diploma was in my hand, my introduction to the world would be
complete and I'd get straight to work on the story of my life. I ducked my head back to my
program, hiding the miniscule smile that pulled at my lips at the thought of a small, emerald
green box sitting in my backpack. I knew exactly where I wanted that story to start.

BELLA!

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY OVER!

CONING UP WITH AND EXECUTING THE
DIABOLICAL PLOT HAS TO BE ONE OF
NY FAVORITE HIGH SCHOOL NENORIES.
CAN YOU BELIEVE WE PULLED IT OFF AND
I'VE BEEN WITH JASPER A WHOLE YEAR?
I'N REALLY GOING TO NISS YOU WHEN
YOU GO AWAY FOR COLLEGE. I WISH YOU
WERE GOING TO UDUB SO YOU COULD
PLEDGE A SORORITY WITH NE.
AT LEAST WE HAVE ONE NORE THING
THAT'S GOING TO PASS US INTO FORKS
HIGH LEGEND – OUR GRADUATION PARTY!
TRUST NE. IT'S GOING TO BE
G-H-E-T-T-O-F-A-B-U-L-O-U-S!

LOVE YOU LIKE A SISTER!

ALICE

Dear Alice,

I can't believe we actually became

friends after how much we hated
each other in middle school.

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Seriously.

I can't believe it.

I think you're going to have an

amazing time at UDUB. Make sure
to keep your MySpace updated. I
want to see all the weird things you
have to do when pledging!

I know you're going to do great in

college because there's no
stopping Alice Brandon once she
puts her mind to something.

Seriously.

I can't believe it. Lol.

I'm sure I'l l see you many more

times over the course of our lives,
but I'm kinda going to miss you
during the in between.

Goodbye for now, Bella

Bella, Bella, Bella.

What to say? You're such a beautiful

and wonderful person! What would I
have done these past 5(!) years without
you? We laughed together, we cried
together, and we even screamed at
each other. Actually, I don't think we
ever got in a fight! The screaming was
purely Harry Potter related. Props to us!

I know for a fact that this is not goodbye

between you and me. We're only going to
be seven or eight states apart for college,
and really, there's not enough distance
in the world to stop our friendship.

Reach for the stars. You are going to

change the world. I can feel it.

Your Bestest Best Friend,

Angela

  394  
Hey Angela!

Remember that time in junior year when

we memorized all the words to POA's
"Double, Double, Toil and Trouble" and
came up with a choreographed dance?
I still remember all the moves! We were
such geeks.

What am I saying? We're still as crazy as

ever and still best friends. Let's not ever
forget these memories and many more.
Like when you locked us out of your car
on the interstate (in the rain, no less)!

You are a beautiful, smart, fun, talented

girl, and you always put a smile on my
face. I couldn't have gotten through
the last 5 years without you and don't
ever want to lose you.

Your bestest best friend,

Bella

P.S. Something Wicked This Way Comes!

Bella,

The ride from hell is over.

Congratulations on your millions.

Best,
Rosalie Hale

Rosalie,

Just… best of luck out there.

Keep Emmett in line.

Bella

Bella,

It is good to finally be done! I hope you

have a great time at college. Let me know
if you're working on any new websites
and I'll be sure to check them out.

You have a real talent. Keep up the

good work.

Ben

  395  
Ben,

It has been fun knowing you through

the years! Good luck next year and
with following your dream of directing
martial arts movies.

You can do it!

Bella

BELLA!
Have you heard this one?

Me: Knock, Knock

You: Who's There?
Me: You know
You: You know who?
Me: No. You know.
You: You know who?
Me: No. I'm not You-Know-Who.
You know who I am.
You: Who?
Me: It's yo mamma!

What do you think? I came up

with it myself.

Have a great summer!

You know I will!

Emmett McCarty
Emmett,

I don't know what to say, except that

you are someone I will truly miss.
Don't worry. I'l l be back from college
next summer for the book release
(it better be released then! I'm dying)
and the Order of the Phoenix movie.
We'l l keep the tradition alive by
going together.

Don't trip on your graduation gown

on the way up to accept your diploma!
And please tell me you're wearing
something underneath it…

See ya tonight!
Bella

About a half mile from the mansion on Mrs. Evans' property – our property –
Edward and I had discovered a break in the forest, a meadow that looked the embodiment

  396  
of Spring, painted blue and yellow and white with wildflowers. The sun bathed us in a
glowing warmth as we lay sprawled on our picnic blankets in post-graduation bliss.
"You know who?" Edward said.
"No. It's you know. Wait. I messed that up. It's just you know. Ya know?"
"Not really."
"Just say 'you know who' again," I said.
"You know who?"
"No. I'm not You-Know-Who. You know who I am."
"Who?"
"It's yo mamma."
He was silent, staring. "I don't get it."
"Come on! It's a Harry Potter joke and a yo mamma joke all in one."
Edward's stomach vibrated under my head as he chuckled. "That is truly a terrible
joke."
"Maybe Emmett's the only one who can pull it off."
"Even then, I'm not so sure." He brushed a strand of my hair and I smiled, content.
"If you had to pick just one, what would you say is your favorite Emmett-related high school
memory?"
"There's a lot of good ones, but I'd have to go with the senior prank. You?"
"The time in freshman year when he had my back in the fight with Mike Newton."
"Riiight," I said, dragging out the word as I recalled the one thing that still stood out
to me after all these years. "God, you were sexy with that shiner." Edward laughed again and
I rolled over so I was facing him. "Okay. Favorite memory from freshman year."
"That one's way too easy," Edward said. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three."
"Valentine's Day," we said in unison and high-fived.
"When you showed up to the dance dressed as Harry Potter."
"And you told me you loved me for the first time."
"And you told me you loved me for the first time in English," I retorted.
"I admit, I was a wee bit of a coward back then." Edward held up his thumb and
forefinger about an inch apart.
I grabbed his fingers and widened the gap significantly. "That's more like it." He
took the opportunity to grab my hand and kiss it. "What about sophomore year?"
"Another easy one," he said. "The end of year baseball game where you dressed up
as the catcher and helped me hit my first home run."
"Oh, yeah," I said. "I'd totally forgotten about that. Actually, now that I think about
it, I can't remember a lot of sophomore year. What did we do that year?"
"It's funny how when you're experiencing things, you think you'll never forget them.
Then a few years later you find a picture or ticket stub or something that reminds you that
you did forget."
I picked at a small thread on his blue t-shirt. "That's very insightful, Edward."
"It's too bad I only just now thought of it or I could have included it in my speech."
"Yeah. You could have done that instead of reading my freaking admissions essay," I
said, pinching his side.
"Hey, hey, hey!" He sat up and swatted my hand away. "In case you didn't notice,
that essay went over swimmingly. It was a brilliant idea."

  397  
 I stuck out my tongue. He took the opportunity to lick it. "Ahh!" I laughed, pushing
him away. "In all seriousness, though, watching you up there definitely cracked my top five
Edward-related high school memories. I could hardly contain how proud I was."
"Top five? Now I'm curious. What are the other four?"
Thinking it over quickly I said, "I'll tell you, but I'm not including anything sex-
related for fairness' sake."
Edward nodded. "That is fair."
"Number five, your speech. Number four, freezing on the beach as you gave me my
daisy ring. Number three, when you sang ‘Hey There Delilah’ at the senior showcase, but
replaced Delilah with Bella. You're definitely not a pop star, but it was still so stinking sweet.
Two, when you agreed to let us keep Willow." I gave our furbaby a syrupy glance as he
chewed on his paw a few yards away. "And number one, when I found out we were
millionaires."
"Willow doesn't top the money? That's cold-blooded," Edward joked.
"It's a lot of money!"
"Well, if Willow can't do it, I don't think anything can."
"I have a feeling something will." I had a feeling something would very soon. I eyed
my backpack which was sitting about a foot from us and butterflies erupted in my stomach.
I covered it up with a shrill, "Your turn."
"Off the top of my head… watching you, Angela, Alice, Rosalie, and that puppet
dress up as *NSYNC and perform ‘Bye Bye Bye’ for the senior showcase."
"We were awesome," I agreed.
"Awesome? Nope. Laughable? Absolutely." I elbowed him and he continued after a
kiss on my nose. "I've already mentioned baseball and Valentine's Day, so I'm going to skip
over those and instead go with any time you've ever attempted to cook for me. Our vows,
obviously. Sir Mix-a-Lot. And number one would have to be a few weeks ago when you
fulfilled my ultimate sexual fantasy and with such incredible elven detail." He sighed deeply
and stroked the curve of my ear. "Bellewyn Riel."
"Men," I said bleakly.
He laughed and began to stand up. "It's going to get dark soon. We should probably
get back to the house before people start showing up. Heaven knows what Alice has done to
it by now."
"Wait!" I grabbed his arm. "Before we go, shouldn't we sign each other's yearbooks?"
Suddenly, my heart was pounding and I was having difficulty keeping my breath steady.
Edward shook his head and settled back down. "You're right. What was I thinking?
This is the last time we're going to be alone for the rest of the night. I hear this party is
supposed to be epic."
"Epic?"
Edward reached over and grabbed his backpack and I did the same. "Epic. I think
that's the new 'it phrase.' I've been seeing it online a lot."
"Ahhh," I said distractedly, rooting around my backpack for the little, green box. As
soon as it was located, I made sure Edward was preoccupied with his yearbook pen, before
slipping it out and wedging it between my crisscrossed legs. I gulped. This was actually
happening.
"Okay. It works," Edward said, turning back to me. "Where's your yearbook?"
"In my backpack," I said. "I was actually wondering if I could sign your yearbook
first."

  398  
 His eyes narrowed, surprised and suspicious. "You've never asked that before."
"I know. It won't take long, I promise. There's only one thing I really need to say."
I opened his yearbook to my designated page and jotted down the eleven words I
had been reciting over and over in my head since I'd decided to do this. The book passed
shakily from my hands to his, and as he read the inscription, I fumbled to open the box in
my lap until a ring was showing.
The One Ring.
Nah. It was the engagement ring I'd designed for Edward months ago, perfect as it
ever was: engraved swirls on the outside, Edward's favorite Elvish phrase on the inside. I
blew out a breath and awaited his reaction.
Slowly, he lowered the yearbook, his eyes wide, his mouth in an astonished "O."
He was taking too long to speak. He was taking too long to blink. Proposing was
brutal.
"Well… will you?" I asked, sounding like an angry, old hag rather than someone who
was actually searching for a yes. "Oh, shit." I smacked my forehead and scrambled up. "I
forgot to kneel. I knew I was going to forget something."
Edward's astonishment transformed into something akin to amusement as I
repositioned myself and tried again. "Well… will you?" I asked in a flowery, delicate tone.
"Are you, um…" Edward's head tilted down and I saw his tongue lick through a
breathtaking grin. He composed himself and looked back up. "Are you sure you're ready?"
"Come on, man! I'm here with the personalized grand gesture, the knee, the ring.
This isn't an impulse decision. I want to marry you, Edward Cullen."
"Before…" he reminded me hesitantly.
"Before, I didn't know who I was. Now, I finally realize what I want from this life.
Being with you, and creating things with you, and marrying you is a huge part of it." My
voice hitched as I felt the impact of my own words. It felt beyond incredible to mean them.
"I'm ready, Edward. I'm ready."
His hands slipped into my hair, pulling me to him. His tears mingled with mine. His
lips conveyed every emotion he felt without a single word.
"Wait," he said, pulling back and brushing the wetness under my eyes away with his
thumbs. "Wait a minute."
"Okay," I said, biting my lip.
"Where is your yearbook?" he asked seriously.
I hiccuped a laugh and pulled it out of my backpack. My eyes greedily gobbled up
every scribbled word as it was written, but Edward still held it up to me after he was done
and said, "That's my answer." It was the least eloquent yearbook entry he'd ever written, but
it was by far his best.
When I was younger, I thought Edward was beyond perfect. Now, I could see that it
had always been his flawed edges that fit perfectly to mine that drew me to him, and him to
me. If given the chance, not even another seventeen million could have convinced me to
change a second of our non-romantic romance.
Maybe eighteen million and the chance to meet Daniel Radcliffe.
Nope. Not even then.
"I have an official retraction," Edward beamed as I slipped the ring on his finger.
"This, right here, right now, is my new number one."
"No retraction necessary," I said. "We're not in high school anymore. It's time for a
new list."

  399  
 Dear Swirl,

Will you marry me?

Amin mela lle,

Your Daisy

Daisy,

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES

I love you a million times over,

Swirl

P.S. YES!

***

Introduction Complete

  400  
 The Acknowledgements of m81170 as Narrated by Daisy as Written by m81170

On December 31, 2009, Swirl became one of the 58% of fictional characters
conceived during a night of drunken depravity. I didn’t come along until the next day…
during the hangover. From the millisecond Swirl’s neurons met my neurons, we erupted like
a volcano in M’s brain, swimming around having adventures and falling desperately, madly,
stupidly in love. We were M’s personal brand of heroine. It took some poking (not the
physical kind) to convince her to sit down and let us meet in paper. She typed up a chapter
and posted it on FanFiction.net that same night.
About three things M was absolutely positive. First, she needed a beta. Badly.
Second, our story, An Introduction to Swirl and Daisy, would only be five or six chapters long.
Just a few one-shots, really. Nothing fancy or too time-consuming. And third, she was
unconditionally and irrevocably in love with us. “You are my life now,” she muttered to the
Word document. Then added, “Well, for the next few weeks. Seven chapters, tops.”

5 Years Later…

xsecretxkeeperx: It would have been better if you had never become friends with M. I
know you’re indignantly gaping at the screen right now, but let me explain: I said it would be
better if you weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want you to be. Over the last few years you
have sacrificed countless hours, beauty sleep, and sanity to make Swirl and me a million
times more eloquent than we were in M’s original drafts, then sat back quietly as M
shamelessly took the credit. She wasn’t the only one who put her heart and soul into this
story, and she’s astounded (and a little horrified) by the amount of loyalty, determination,
and patience you’ve shown towards us over the years. You dazzle her. Frequently.

Squalloogal: M wasn’t so sure about you when you first met because, let’s face it, you’re a
saucy little perv. But then she decided as long as she was going to hell, she might as well do
it thoroughly, and never looked back. You have been invaluable to her over the years -
organizing the Swirl and Daisy FGB team, Skyping her through writer’s block, editing this
PDF in less than a week. You are the best Tiger Muskie on this planet (and Charlie says
there’s millions out there, so that’s quite an achievement).

Whyuh: The first time I saw the drawing you did of me in the Harry Potter costume, I said,
“Look at me! I actually look pretty!”

M scoffed. “That's practically an insult, the way you look in Whyuh’s art. You're much more
than beautiful.”

She’s right, of course. The drawings you’ve done of Swirl and me are precious to all of us.
Thank you for making me more than words on a white document. Thank you for making
me real. M will always treasure those drawings and, more importantly, your friendship.

Just4ALE: You hold such a special place in M’s heart. You did so, so much for Swirl and
me. More importantly, you lived your life as a shining example of confidence, generosity, and

  401  
vitality, and in doing so instilled those values in M. She dearly misses you and wishes you
could have been here to see her jog her first 10k, climb Pikes Peak, complete this story, and
reach all her future milestones. But without the dark, we'd never see the stars, and she knows
you’re watching from somewhere else.

gkkstitch: My life became so much more interesting with two words from you. Let’s say it.
Out loud. “Word prompts.” My Misadventures would be less than half the story it is without
you. Chief Swan offers an awkward but appreciative pat on the back for giving him Poker
prowess, and Dr. Cullen offers a kiss on the cheek for making him a competent doctor.
Your expertise was invaluable, you amazing, masterful Spidermonkey.

ms. ambrosia: You taught M how to develop websites, and then she taught me. It takes
someone of exceptional grace to be so generous with their talent. M feels incredibly blessed
the two of you met in the Twilighted banner forums. And for the record, Swirl keeps those
Arwen manips of me in his bedside drawer. If he dreams at all, it’s of those manips. And he’s
not ashamed of it.

Rachel1313: In fear of being publically ridiculed, M was never going to confess this. Luckily
for everyone else, I don’t give a shizz. She has the Swirl and Daisy icon you made tattooed on
the inside of her wrist. Like, permanently. She loves it. And will continue to love it every
single day of forever.

acciodanrad9 (who also falls under the below category): You’re not even in the Twilight
fandom and you beta’d the first two years of my life. You must love M. She loves you too,
and is elated you've been her BFF since sophomore year of high school… the original
Angela. Mischief managed.

M’s Real Life Friends and Family: I wouldn’t be who I am if any one of you wasn’t in
M’s life. My journey and relationships were shaped by her relationships with you – some bits
and pieces, some situations… quite identically. The love and support you give her goes
beyond the limit of what any "thank you" can encompass. You are the most important thing
to her now. The most important thing to her ever.

Aeri and Anong (who also fall under the above category): Without you, I would have never
existed. It was you who took M out on New Years Eve, got her sloshed, shouted, “Swiiirl!”
every time a certain someone texted her, and called her Driving Miss Daisy. It all started with
you two. Perhaps what you were intoxicated by, aside from the shots of alcohol, was my very
presence.

wime09, elizabethan, AltheaJams, Profitina, jackbauer, AcrossTheSkyInStars, Zors: I

endlessly appreciate you for telling M when she was making me sound like the bad guy. I am
the bloody superhero. You were the best batch of pre-readers a fictional teenage couple who
run an imaginary t-shirt website and fight over their respective fandoms could have asked
for.

The Most Amazing People on the Planet - Swirl and Daisy Readers: 5 years, folks… 5
years. What a stupid writer.

  402  
What sick, masochistic readers.

As hard as it was at times for M to write Swirl and Daisy (she often thought of it like some
kind of demon, summoned straight from her own personal hell to ruin her - generally after
the fourth night of sleep deprivation), she knew it was just as hard and annoying for you to
wait.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret: when M posted the first chapter of Swirl and Daisy,
she thought maybe – maybe – she might find a nice, small niche readership of about twenty
people… if she was lucky. The fact that she had that plus thousands stick with her until the
end blows her flipping mind. Seriously, what was it about me that invited you in? My face?
My voice? My Swirl? Yeah, we all know it was definitely the Swirl.

No amount of “thank yous” would be sufficient to express her gratitude to the readers,
reviewers, and pimpers of Swirl and Daisy. It has opened up so many doors, given her so
many opportunities…

When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it’s not reasonable to
grieve when it comes to an end. But it’s Twilight fanfiction. Another ending. No matter how
perfect the day is, it always has to end.

Goodbye stupid, shiny Volvo owner.

  403  
 Outtake: The Boy and His Business Card  

Originally written and posted after Chapter 6: The First Time They Went On a Date, this outtake
offers a look at that fateful first meeting between Chief Swan and Edward Cullen.

Of three things I was absolutely certain:

1. Bella Swan was beautiful.

2. Bella Swan was fascinating.
3. Bella Swan had asked me if I was gay within two minutes of meeting me.

That was going to be a problem.

Basic Public Speaking, 2nd Edition – The Roadmap to Confident Communications.

By Douglas Parker

Know the needs of your audience and match your contents to their needs.

What were Chief Swan's needs?

He needed to know that I liked his daughter… a lot. He needed to know that if he
gave me his approval, I had every intention of courting his daughter and that I would do it
honorably.

Know what your strong and weak points are.

Strong points:

1. I had a 4.0 GPA, which showed that I cared about school.

2. I had a job, which showed that I was responsible.
3. I had extra-curricular activities, which showed I was well-rounded.
4. I had no misdemeanors on my record, which showed that I wasn't a hoodlum. I
figured this would be the most important thing to the Chief of Police, and I was more
relieved than ever that I had decided not to cut school that one day last year for the Lord of
the Rings convention in Seattle. I'm sure truancy was as bad a crime as any in his book.

Weaknesses:

1. I had only just met Bella Swan this morning.

2. I didn't know very much about Bella Swan.
3. I found Bella Swan very… appealing in ways I'm sure her father would disapprove
of.

Know your material.

 

  404  
 This… was a problem. I had only known Bella Swan for approximately eight hours,
and seven of those hours had been spent in other classes, away from her. Some people
might assume that I was jumping the gun by going to her father so soon for permission, but
I knew that if I hesitated for even a moment, some other student (probably that hooligan,
Mike Newton) would swoop in and try to steal her heart.
I couldn't risk that. I wouldn't be thwarted in my efforts to attain Bella's affections
just because I was worried that some people might think it a little too soon than was socially
acceptable.
"Mr. Cullen, the chief will see you in his office now," the receptionist called from
behind her desk.
My gut tightened as I stood up. My hands grew sweaty and I nervously wiped them
on my slacks. Dad stood up next to me, and put a hand on my shoulder. "You'll do fine,
son," he said encouragingly. "Are you ready to go in?"
"Yes, I think so. But, um, I think this is probably something I should do alone," I
answered, hoping he wouldn't be too offended by my dismissal.
He nodded his head in understanding. "As long as you're sure about that. Make sure
to straighten your tie and look him in the eye when you talk. Your mom and I are proud of
you, even if the answer is a no," he said with a pat on my back.
I quickly straightened my tie and put on my suit jacket, before grabbing my briefcase
and taking a few relaxing breaths.
"Oh, and Edward, you probably don't want to bring that with you," Dad said,
nodding at the book in my hand.
Douglas Parker's book on public speaking was like a life vest to me and I realized I
had been clutching it in my hand rather tightly. I hesitantly handed it over to my father,
before nervously turning on my heel and walking to Chief Swan's office. I reminded myself
over and over again that I had given many successful presentations to Mrs. Evans for E.C.T-
shirts and I needed to treat this similarly. I would present him with the facts, tell him what I
was asking, and let him make the decision.
I took one last, deep breath, trying to recall all the tips I had learned about public
speaking, before knocking. This was it.
"Come in," a deep voice called. I anxiously opened the door and walked in to meet
my fate, whatever it may be.

Body language is important.

I walked over to Chief Swan's desk as confidently as I could and shook his hand with
a firm and steady grip.

Speak with conviction as if you really believe in what you are saying.

"Hello, my name is Edward Anthony Cullen, age thirteen, currently enrolled in Forks
Middle School. I am here to speak to you about a matter of great importance, and by the end
of our meeting, I am sure that I will have convinced you that I am the best possible
candidate for the position I am inquiring about."

Use audio-visual aids or props for enhancement if appropriate and necessary.

  405  
 I opened my briefcase and handed him a binder. "This is my portfolio. In there you
will find my resume, past report cards, and a letter of recommendation from my mother."

Maintain sincere eye contact with your audience.

I looked Chief Swan dead in the eye. "I am positive if your answer is yes that you will
not regret it. I will make sure you do not regret it."

Pause. Allow yourself and your audience a little time to reflect and think.

I paused.

Speak to your audience, listen to their questions, respond to their reactions, adjust and adapt.

"Do you have any questions, sir?"

Chief Swan was leaning back in his chair, assessing me with, what I thought was, an
amused look. Did he think this was funny?
It was a few moments before he spoke. "Why don't you sit down, Edward?"
I took the seat in front of his desk, anxiously awaiting his decision. Chief Swan sat up
in his chair and began going through the paperwork I had presented him in my portfolio.
"I see here that you have a 4.0, that's very impressive."
"Yes, sir. And I have never missed a day of school unless it was due to illness, and
even those are rare. I believe that shows responsibility. I give you my guarantee that I will
always be dependable, if your answer is yes."
Chief Swan grunted in acknowledgment and it grew silent while he continued to
finger through my paperwork. My heart nearly stopped beating as I caught a glimpse of a
picture of Bella on his desk. She was smiling brightly as she pulled a cake out of an oven and
it looked as if it had only been taken a few months ago. She looked so natural and happy in
the picture and so different from any of the other girls in school. God, she was beautiful.
"But don't you think you're a little young?" he asked, interrupting my thoughts.
I had anticipated this question. The picture on his desk of Bella smiling inspired me
to answer with conviction. "I know people may say that thirteen is young, but my mom
always told me that when you know it, you just know. I know this is what I want, my heart
knows what it wants, and I hope that my youth won't get in the way of that."
He glanced up from the paperwork at my words. "But it says here that you own and
run your own t-shirt business. Why do you want to be a volunteer on top of that?"
"A volunteer?"
"Aren't you here to apply for the volunteer deputy program?" Chief Swan asked.
I sat there, frozen, as I tried to figure out what he was talking about. It dawned on
me that I hadn't once mentioned Bella in the entire time we had been speaking. I was such a
moron.
"Yes, sir. Yes, I am." Apparently, I was also a liar.
"Good," Chief Swan said as he leaned back in his chair. "Then I only have one more
question for you."

  406  
 I gulped. The sweat on my palms and my racing heart were making me increasingly
uncomfortable while I waited for this final question. I didn't want to lie, but my future
happiness depended on me getting on Chief Swan's good side.
"Why does your mother mention that she is positive you will treat my daughter with
the utmost care and respect in her letter of recommendation?"
Oh. Shit.

Add humor whenever appropriate and possible.

"Why were the suspenders arrested?" Damn word vomit!

Chief Swan just continued to stare at me with a stony expression.
I only had two choices in this situation. I could give up and flee like a coward,
leaving behind any chance I had at courting Bella Swan. Or I could fight for her, like
Aragorn fought for Arwen. Well, not quite like that, since we weren't in Middle Earth.
It was an easy choice. I persevered. "For holding up a pair of pants."
I saw Chief Swan's mustache twitch, but out of anger or out of humor, I did not
know.
He leaned forward in his seat once more and looked me dead in the eye. His public
speaking skills were a lot more intimidating than mine. "Okay, Edward, you got to level with
me here and be honest. What does Bella have to do with this?"
"I think she's my soul mate." There would be no more lying for me, ever again.
Chief Swan's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "And what makes you think that?"
I hesitated, trying to come up with a way to explain the deep connection I had felt
with Bella the moment our eyes met. "We… had a moment," was the best I could come up
with.
He snorted. "You had a moment?"
"Yes," I answered earnestly. Screw being subtle; I was going to just throw it all out
there. "And it was the best moment of my life."
"Was it now?"
"Yes," I answered again, as genuinely as possible. "It's like, when I look into her eyes
all the air leaves my body, but instead of feeling suffocated, I feel like I'm floating and like I'll
never need to breathe again as long as I can see her," I tried to explain.
"But you've only known her for a few hours," he countered.
I was happy that I had prepared an answer for this question ahead of time. "My
personal hero, J.R.R. Tolkien says, 'All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is
given to us.' I could have wasted a few more days getting to know Bella, only to discover
what I had already known – that she's perfect. And by that time, it may have already been
too late. I would rather secure your permission now, sir."
Chief Swan seemed to be considering my words. After a few moments, he finally
spoke. "If I agree to this, are you going to treat my daughter with respect?"
"Absolutely," I answered with complete and utter sincerity.
"And you'll keep your paws to yourself?"
"Absolutely," I responded again.
Chief Swan sighed a little before rising out of his chair and walking around the desk
to where I was sitting. He hovered over me threateningly before saying, "If you hurt my
daughter or if she comes back to me in less than perfect condition, you and I are going to
have a major problem."

  407  
 I nodded my head fervently. "Yes, sir."
"Okay, son." He held out his hand to me.
Relief washed through me as I shook Chief Swan's hand. "Thank you so much. You
won't regret it." I quickly stood up from my chair and grabbed my briefcase. "This is my
business card." I handed him my freshly printed card. "It has my home phone, beeper, and
fax number. Please feel free to contact me whenever you want, day or night."
He took the card and glanced at it with a weird expression. "You sure you're only
thirteen?" he asked offhandedly.
"I would be more than happy to submit a copy of my birth certificate if you require
one," I said, worried that he thought I had lied about more than one thing.
Chief Swan's loud laugh startled me. "No, Edward, that won't be necessary." He
went back around his desk and took his seat again. "It was nice meeting you. Thank you for
asking my permission before you did anything with my daughter."
"It was nice meeting you as well, sir. I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon." I turned to
walk out the door.
"Yes, I suppose I'll be seeing you this upcoming Saturday," Chief Swan said.
I spun back towards him. "You will?"
He had a smug look on his face as he said. "Of course. At eight AM, you start your
first shift as a volunteer deputy.”

"How'd it go?" my dad asked as I walked out of Chief Swan's office.

"Couldn't have gone better," I said with a wide smile.

Chief Swan tried to fight the grin that spread across his face as he watched the kid
stumble out of his office in that ridiculous suit and tie. Shaking his head, he glanced back
down at the business card he held in his hand.
Edward Cullen was a strange boy. And Charlie was sure he didn't have a shot in hell
with Bella.

  408  
 Outtake: An Anthology of Teenage Angst: Part 1

Originally written and posted after Chapter 7: An Interlude: The Introduction of Swirl, this outtake
was written as a thank you to reviewers, particularly those who wished to know what was in those ill-fated
love notes Edward wrote.

Charlie Swan had always considered himself to be an exceptionally observant man.

He had to be. He was Fork's Chief of Police. So he couldn't quite understand why his
daughter thought he didn't know exactly what was going on between her and Edward
Cullen.
Yes, he knew Edward had come by their house every day for the last week and a half
to beg and plead for her forgiveness. How you ask?

Exhibit A: Edward Cullen

Ever since they had their argument, Edward had been spending a ridiculous amount
of time "volunteering" at the station. Charlie used the term "volunteering" lightly; mostly the
boy sat at the front desk, moping and drowning in his overdramatic, teenage angst.

Exhibit B: The Daisies

Every day when Charlie got home from work at seven o'clock there would be a new
bouquet of daisies in the kitchen, dining room, or living room. One day, Bella had apparently
run out of places to store the damn flowers, and he'd walked into the bathroom to find a
vase of daisies sitting on top of the toilet seat.
He hadn't realized he owned that many vases to begin with, later finding out that
Renee had left a large stash of them in the attic. Figures she'd find some new way to remind
him of her even ten years after their divorce.

Exhibit C: The Love Notes

Bella was smart enough to burn those before Charlie got home every day (the smell
of smoke and flaming paper gave that away). Edward wasn't quite as clever. He left the
rough drafts of his love notes crumpled in the front desk's trashcan, not bothering to shred
them. For as much as everyone raved about Edward being a genius, Charlie had expected
him to be a bit brighter.

Sneaking a peek at Edward from inside his office, Charlie saw the same thing he had
seen every day since the argument with Bella: Edward scribbling furiously away at a sheet of
notebook paper.
Really, the kids had made it too easy for Charlie to deduce what was going on… not
to mention the call he'd received from Esme, telling him exactly what went down between
the two and pre-apologizing for whatever action Edward was planning to take to win Bella
back. That had tipped Charlie off just a little.
Charlie checked the time as he watched Edward finish up his letter. It was now three
o'clock. In mere minutes, Carlisle would pick Edward up from the station, take him to the
flower shop down the street, and then drive to the Swan residence so his son could offer
Bella his penance.

  409  
 "Hey, Edward," Charlie called after Edward was finished stuffing the note into his
backpack. "Why don't you come talk to me a minute before your dad shows up?"
The boy sauntered over to the office, depressed as ever. "What can I do for you,
sir?"
"You start school again tomorrow, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"You've been spending a lot of extra time at the station, and I thought you should
take some time off to get adjusted to your school schedule."
More to the point, Edward looked like he could use some time to sleep. It was hard
not to notice that his normally pristine appearance had been replaced with wrinkled clothing
and bags under his eyes. Coincidentally, Bella had looked equally as shabby this past week.
"Thanks, sir, but I'd rather not," Edward said. "Being at the station helps keep my
mind off… things."
Charlie could understand that. His hours at the station had doubled when Renee left
him and took his only child with her. Of course, she had been his wife of five years and his
high school sweetheart before that. Edward had taken Bella out on their first date three
weeks ago.
"But, don't you have some sort of T-shirt business to keep you pre-occupied?" he
pressed.
Edward's shoulders sagged, defeated. "My muse is gone."
Huh. Well, who was Charlie to deny Edward what small comfort he had?
"Is there anything else, sir?"
"Nope, that was all," Charlie answered, dismissing Edward from his office. He felt
bad for the poor boy, but it was only a matter of time before his young heart got over it.
Puppy love was fickle and never lasted.
Charlie waited until he heard the front door close before he got up from his office
chair and strolled as casually as he could to the front desk. He grabbed the small trashcan
from under the desk covertly, catching only the attention of Deputy Marks. Charlie gave him
a stern nod to indicate that he should mind his own damn business and walked back to his
office, trashcan tucked under his arm.
Sadly, this had become the highlight of Charlie's day over the past week and a half.
Once he had gotten over the fact that Edward was writing these notes to his daughter, he
found that the sentiments of a heartbroken young teenager were quite amusing. He reached
into the trashcan and grabbed the first piece of crumpled paper.

Dear Bella,

Before you, my life was like a moonless night. You shot across my sky like a meteor, lighting my vision

with the purest of white lights. And now that you are gone, the vast, black hole of despair is swallowing

me whole.

Apparently Edward had decided that this approach was too depressing to pursue
further because it stopped there. Charlie chuckled, once again thinking about publishing this
kid's letters as an anthology of teenage angst. He would be a millionaire.
He grabbed another one from the pile.

  410  
Dear Isabella Marie Swan: The Beautiful,

Everything about you invites me in – your voice, your face, even your smell. Your scent calls to me like

heroin to a drug addict.

A violent shudder ripped through Charlie's spine. He thanked God that Edward had
decided to cut that particular line of pleading short. He had a line when it came to his
daughter, and Edward had come dangerously close to crossing it.
The length of the next letter Charlie happened upon suggested that this one was
going to be a winner. Edward had fully completed it, signing his name at the bottom and all.
These ones were Charlie's favorites.

My Darling Bella,

I hope that this letter finds you in good health and that you are coping much better with our separation

than I am.

Bella, I must confess that my life now reflects an alternate universe of Lord of the Rings, where

Sauron manages to obtain the ring of power and all of Middle Earth burns and perishes into the fires of

Mordor. And every last Elven realm that was once pure and sacred is corrupted and massacred by

darkness.

And Aragorn and Arwen are never able to be together because Arwen leaves to go to the Undying Lands

and Aragorn dies in battle.

And there is no more reason for anything.

My life is so empty without the radiance of your presence, the softness of your touch, or the song in your

voice. I cannot live in a world where we do not exist. Please do not make me.

Yours forever and always,

Edward Anthony Cullen

Home Phone: 360.555.9452

Pager: 360.555.7385

Fax: 360.555. 5832

edwardcullen@myt-spot.com

Charlie stared at the letter, processing exactly what Edward had revealed about his
level of attachment to his daughter. It was strange – the only person Charlie knew that was

  411  
this melodramatic was Bella. This meant one of two things to Charlie; either Edward was
secretly a teenage girl or he was actually in love with his daughter (as much as a thirteen-year-
old could be).
Though the first option seemed possible (Edward's father was a doctor), he decided
that the second was more likely. What was he going to do about that?

Charlie considered his options:

1) He could kill him. As the Chief of Police, no one would ever suspect him.
2) He could fire him as a volunteer deputy and forbid Bella from ever speaking to
him again.
3) He could help him.

Charlie mulled it over for a few minutes. The first two prospects were appealing;
although, Charlie reluctantly admitted he had grown rather used to the Cullen boy being
around. He certainly didn't like Edward by any stretch of the imagination, but his presence
wasn't entirely… disagreeable.
Also, Charlie knew what it was like to be heartbroken. Sure, Edward's age and
inexperience with matters of the heart worked against him, but Charlie had been young
when he first set his sights on Renee. He had forgotten what it was like to be thirteen and in
love, but he couldn't forget the pain and heartbreak he felt every day since Renee left.
It was that fact that made him decide on a course of action. God help him, he was
going to assist Edward in winning back his daughter.
And damn it if the thirteen-year-old LotR geek in Charlie Swan's mind didn't give
Edward Cullen a high five.

  412  
 Outtake: An Uncomfortable Conversation and the Assault of Mike Newton

Originally written and posted after Chapter 12: The First Time They Had “The Talk,” this outtake
was meant to offer some insights into Edward’s life and show what happened during that scuffle with Mike
Newton.

The average American teenage male thinks about sex once every seven seconds. The
average American teenage male did not have Bella Swan as his girlfriend. I did. Dating the
most enticing creature on the planet was not always easy. Logically, it provoked the number
of times I thought about sex to be exponentially greater than the average American teenage
male, which led to even the simplest tasks being complicated.
I was sitting at the front desk of the police station attempting to file paperwork on
recent traffic violations, but my mind kept wandering to Bella in the blue shirt she wore
today. Damn, that blue shirt was going to be the death of me. It was a tighter fit than usual
and the effect of the color against her skin made her seem ethereal, almost otherworldly. The
neckline plunged enough for me to get a peek of her–
"Edward, will you join me in the office?" The Chief could smell when I was thinking
inappropriate thoughts about his daughter.
A year ago, I'd been discouraged that Chief Swan only seemed to tolerate me for the
sake of extra help around the office. But as my feelings toward Bella had grown deeper and
my thoughts toward her more perverted, I not only understood Chief Swan's hostility, but
judged him for not being hostile enough. I deserved to be shot for the mental images my
brain conjured: Bella in a hot tub; Bella dressed as Arwen; Bella wielding a sword… naked.
Perhaps today's my execution, I thought upon entering Chief Swan's office. He gave the
appearance of lounging casually behind his desk, but, in actuality, he was trying to intimidate
me with his stare. It never failed to work. If everything went as planned, this man would one
day be my father-in-law. On top of that, he was in charge of the police force. If he killed me,
no one would suspect him. That was a little scary. "Hello, sir. What can I do for you today?"
"Why don't you take a seat?" No good conversation started with that phrase, but I
scrambled into a chair anyway. "I've been thinking about the time you spend volunteering at
the station. It's been about a year now, hasn't it?"
I nodded but remained silent. He was going to fire me and forbid me from seeing his
daughter. He probably saw the picture I drew of Bella in the cowgirl costume. I knew I
should have burned it.
"Well, you've been doing good work. I, uh, got you something to make it more
official." He nodded to a brown package on his desk.
Had he just complimented me? That was a first. A twig of hope sprung free in my
chest. I dubiously picked up the package, and, amidst opening it, that twig grew into a full-on
evergreen shrub. Inside was an official police uniform – navy blue, with sewn-in military
creases and pleated patch pockets. The feel of it suggested one-hundred percent polyester,
and I'd bet it had adjustable cuffs and permanent collar stays. My hard work had paid off,
authenticated by this tangible symbol of Chief Swan's acceptance.
I should have rejoiced, but all I felt was overwhelming guilt. "Chief, I can't accept
this."
His eyebrows shot up. "And why is that?"

  413  
 "I don't deserve such a gift or your trust. I deceived you and have been a fraud this
entire time. I couldn't live with myself if I knew you had given this to me under false
pretenses." I was devastated to have to tell him all of this.
"And what false pretense is that?"
Bella would no doubt hate me once her father told her what I'd done. "I didn't
volunteer because I wanted to help out at the police station. I took this job because I wanted
you to accept me as Bella's boyfriend."
There were a few moments of silence before I had enough courage to look up at
Chief Swan. His mustache was twitching, his body was shaking a little, and his face was
turning red from trying to hold back his anger. He started coughing into the crook of his
arm, only managing to choke out a quick, "Excuse me," before resuming his coughing fit.
Now I was causing my girlfriend's father health problems; I was surely doomed. He cleared
his throat gruffly. "Yes, Edward, I already knew that."
Now that was a bombshell. "But, sir, if you knew then why didn't you fire me months
ago?"
"I didn't exactly keep you on as a volunteer because of your resume and superb filing
skills. I wanted to keep my eye on you. I was a young man once." It was demoralizing to
hear that, but I pushed away any hurt feelings, knowing he loved Bella almost as much as I
did. "Speaking of which," he continued, "there was something else I wanted to talk to you
about."
"Anything, sir."
He grunted in acknowledgment but didn't speak immediately. He sat back
contemplatively, and brushed his mustache between his thumb and forefinger. "How do you
feel about fishing?"
"I feel fine about it, sir."
"I was thinking about going on a fishing trip this weekend. Would you be interested
in joining me?"
My evergreen shrub burst into a Christmas Tree. "Yes, sir, I would very much like
that."
"Do you know a lot about fishing?" he asked.
I shook my head no. Again, he waited to react and continued to introspectively
stroke the hairs on his upper lip. It put me on edge. I was playing right into his interrogative-
capable hands.
He sat up in his chair, and folded his hands in front of him. "I'm going to level with
you, son. When you're young, it may seem like a good idea to, uh, catch a fish," he said.
"And once you catch that fish, you may think it's a good idea to prepare and cook that fish
right away."
"Is that not a good thing?" Why would you wait to eat your fish? Wasn't that the
point?
"At first it may seem like a very good idea. As a matter of fact, it may feel like the
best idea in the world, but when you realize the fish you've caught isn't a common trout…"
"So, we're not fishing trout?" I asked when he trailed off.
"No. See, I know you, Edward, and I think you want a tiger muskie. A tiger muskie is
one of the most sought after and rarest of fish. Do you want a tiger muskie?" he asked.
"Uh, sure." Were tiger muskies indigenous to Washington? They sounded fairly
exotic. He couldn't possibly expect me to catch one, could he?
"Good." He sounded relieved by my answer, apparently under the impression that
we were on the same page. I was too embarrassed to correct him. "Here's the thing about a

  414  
muskie. You have to wait for it. You have to take your time and be incredibly patient. Do
you understand?"
I decided to nod. Never had my wish to read people's minds been greater. Chief
Swan was talking about fish... but was he?
"Tiger muskies can be tricky to catch. With all the time and effort you put into
getting them to you, you don't want to rush things. You want to wait for a special occasion
before you take that step."
"But how do I know when the right time is to cook it? I mean, I've never gone
fishing before. I don't know any of this."
Chief Swan considered his answer. "That's a good question. It's generally a good idea
to wait until marriage."
He wanted me to wait years before serving my fish at our wedding? "Well, Chief
Swan, you've given me a lot to think about." That was an understatement. I decided to quit
while I was only infinitesimally behind. "Thank you for the, uh, fishing advice. I look forward
to our trip this weekend." I stood up to shake his hand.
"Any time. And don't forget to wash that uniform and have it pressed before you
come in next time. You'll look sharp," he said.
"Yes, sir." I'd also research tiger muskies in my spare time. As much as I was looking
forward to the fishing trip this weekend, I prayed that I didn't catch any trout.

The next afternoon found Bella and me hard at work. She was on the computer
sorting through T-shirt submissions and I was finishing homework. Or, at least, I was trying
to finish. Again with the simplest tasks being complicated around Bella. Homeland security
implements a color-coded advisory alert system to measure the level of threat against the US
which looks like this:

Green – Low
Blue – Guarded
Yellow – Elevated
Orange – High
Red – Severe

I had instituted a similar system when I started dating Bella, except the green, blue,
and yellow alerts were utterly useless. There was only Code Orange, Code Red and Code
Helm's Deep, which is something I had come up with for when I was in dire situations. Like
now.
"Edward, we really should work on MyT-Spot this Saturday."
I cringed. Part of me wished I had never found out what T-spot rhymed with. Was it
my fault I ran across that word in my mother's Cosmopolitan magazine (which, by the way, I
had only been reading for the health articles)? No. Therefore, any dirty thoughts and, uh,
things that happened from said dirty thoughts were also not my fault.
"And then if we finish early, we can watch The Sound of Music for Musical Theater."
Oh, how I wished Bella's hills were alive with the sound of music – I'd sit at my
piano and make her beautiful music all day. Of their own accord, my eyes zeroed in on
Bella's chest. She was wearing the "Shieldmaiden of Rohan" shirt I had designed, which was
enough to make my palms grow sweaty. It hugged her figure tightly and accentuated her–

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 "Edward?"
My name on her lips – oh, how it sent a shiver down my spine and a jolt to my–
"Edward, are you listening to me?"
"Yes. I'm sorry; this book is engrossing." I had to at least pretend like I wasn't the
most perverted person on the planet.
She glanced at it curiously. "Isn't that your Algebra book?"
"Well, yes. But logarithms require my undivided attention." Hopefully I could keep
up the facade that I was her studious boyfriend and not a hormone-driven sexual deviant for
at least a few years longer.
"If you say so," she said. "What do you think about Saturday?"
"I can't actually do anything on Saturday." Bella's face fell. "It's not that I don't want
to, because trust me, there is nothing I'd like to do more than spend it with you!" I hurried
to assure her, while trying to find some reasonably legitimate excuse. "But I have to do this
'male-bonding' thing."
Bella stood up from the computer chair and turned in the direction of my dresser.
"With who?"
"My father." Technically, it was a lie. Metaphorically, it wasn't. Chief Swan was like a
second father. And also, if things went my way, he would be my father-in-law four years, ten
months, and fourteen days from now (June 20, 2007 – my nineteenth birthday).
Bella was wandering around my room, at times running her fingers along something
she found interesting, like the edge of my dresser or a book on my shelf. I loved it when she
touched my thing – er, things. "Oh? And what are you and your father doing?"
"Sports," I rattled off. Fishing was a sport. Kind of.
"Which one?" she pressed.
"Baseball," I said, hating to outright lie to the one person in the world I loved more
than anything. Fishing was a dead giveaway to who I'd be spending Saturday with, and I
wasn't ready to divulge mine and Chief Swan's little secret. I couldn't find any possible
phrasing that made sneaking around her back for over a year and volunteering at the station
with her father sound good.
"That's interesting," Bella said, changing course in her walk around my room. My jaw
clenched. She was heading for my bed. This was never a good thing. For her.
It could be very frustrating, being in love with the most wickedly beautiful girl on the
planet, but for the most part it was manageable. However, the sight of her wavy brunette
locks, her fair skin, and her stunning figure standing so close to my queen sized bed had a
tendency to remind me of the fact that my once stainless sheets needed to be thrown in the
washing machine… again.
"So, where are you going to play baseball at?" Bella asked, running a finger over my
comforter. On occasion, I wondered if she intentionally did this to torture me. Then I
remembered this was Bella – pure, sweet, innocent, perfect Bella who had no idea of the
inner-workings of a teenage boy's mind and could not possibly derive any pleasure from the
subsequent torment I suffered at her tantalizing image.
This was why I had come up with Code Helm's Deep. In this situation, I needed to
avert my eyes to something bland, think of the fanart drawing I had accidentally run across
of Gandalf and Gimli doing things, and come up with an excuse for Bella to get away from the
bed. My attention focused on the jar of change I had on my dresser and said, "Bella, I think
that you should, uh, probably go wash your hands."
"You think my hands are dirty?" I took my eyes off the jar (not the best idea). She
was absolutely gorgeous in her fury, and that wasn't doing anything to help my… reaction.

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 "If it helps, you're amazingly pretty," I said. According to Teen Vogue magazine
(which, by the way, I only read for the movie review on LotR), seven out of ten teenage girls
were insecure about their appearance. Ever since reading that statistic, I'd made it a goal to
ensure Bella felt beautiful. I stood up from the seat by the window and walked over to her,
letting my fingers glide softly against her perfect cheek. "Truly, you are the most gorgeous
girl in the world."
Her eyes softened and a shy smile lit up her face.
"However," I said, "you touched my dresser and it's been a week since I dusted. I
wouldn't want you to get sick because of my carelessness."
"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever told me," she said wistfully. I couldn't
resist kissing her, what with that beautiful smile and her face being so close to mine. My lips
went first to her cheek where my fingers had been moments before, and then to her lips.
Kissing Bella was like nothing I had experienced. It was unearthly, the connection I
felt with her when our lips touched, our hands knotted around each other. It was better than
playing the piano or reading The Lord of the Rings. It was more than fireworks or a chorus of
angels singing. It was the most blissful and exciting feeling in the world, but peaceful at the
same time. It moved me, and whenever I walked away from a kiss like this, I left a changed
man. Bella was my other half. I had known this from the moment I saw her.
She pulled away, looking both innocent and mischievous. I had seen this look on her
face several times, and the hormone-driven sexual deviant in me did a victory lap. "Since we
can't do it on Saturday, why don't we go down to the movie room and watch The Sound of
Music now?"
Had I mentioned the movie room was my favorite room in the house?

September 13th was akin to a national holiday for me. Early this morning, I'd snuck
into the school to decorate Bella's locker for her birthday. Three dozen daisies had been
shipped in from Seattle late last night so they would be fresh today, and I had found daisy-
themed wrapping paper at a gift shop in Port Angeles the week before. It was probably over-
the-top, but I couldn't resist the dainty, white flowers with too many petals that reminded
me so much of her.
My favorite part, however, was the sign that I had stayed up most of the night
making for her. I'd spent an hour tracing out her name with a stencil to make sure it was
perfect, and even longer painting and embellishing it with her favorite colors. I then added
the final touch – "Born 2:57 a.m., September 13, 1988." Bella was going to love it.
All right, she was going to hate it. I wasn't an idiot (my IQ being 130), but I couldn't
help myself; my favorite day of the year was September 13th. Not only was it the day my
beloved was born, but this date last year was also the first time I got to hold Bella in my
arms as we danced underneath the twinkle lights in Forks Middle School's gym. It went
unacknowledged because I didn't know it was her birthday, and unfortunately the event was
marred by Alice (agaryulnaer) Brandon. I wasn't going to make the same mistake this time.
Everything was going to be perfect, and even if she didn't want it, I was going to spoil Bella
with as much love, affection, and gifts as I could give her.
Conveniently, there was a soda machine about ten yards away from Bella's locker
that was perfect to hide behind in order to do homework (read: make-out) in private. I hid
behind it now to watch Bella's face when she saw her locker for the first time.

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 She looked absolutely gorgeous entering the hallway, with a window above her that
cast the morning sunlight into a halo over her head. She was my angel. And true to Bella, she
couldn't help but stumble as she made her way down the staircase to her locker. I let out a
lighthearted laugh and vowed to always be there so she could stumble into my arms.
Bella covertly looked around to see if anyone had noticed. My smile grew even wider
because, little did she know, I was always watching. Okay, that sounded creepy. I wasn't a
stalker. I mean, it's not like I snuck in her room nightly to watch her sleep or anything.
The moment Bella spotted her locker she froze and her face grew that beautiful rosy
red that I loved. She looked both livid and horrified. With shaky steps, she approached the
locker, glancing around her, I presumed, to see if I was standing nearby. When she didn't see
me, she resolutely strode towards her locker, determined, I'm sure, to rip off the wrapping
paper.
But once she got there, she stood stock-still. I had never seen a sight so breathtaking
– Bella, still bathed in gold, her face softening as she read the three tiny words I had written
at her eye-level, only to be seen by her: Amin mela lle.
It meant "I love you" in Elvish. I was sure she'd known this for a long time. My only
question and worry was, why hadn't she said it back to me, yet?
She resisted the urge to rip off the wrapping paper, at least for now, and went about
getting her books for her first period class. I waited until she was on her way to English
before stepping out from behind the soda machine. The smile still hadn't left my face when I
walked into the gym locker room. I was going to have to rush through getting changed for
PE, but it was worth being late.
I walked over to my locker and began pulling out my gym clothes, biting my lip to
keep from laughing out loud as I replayed the look on Bella's face. I knew exactly what
image would be fueling my, er, dreams later tonight.
"–second base with Alice Brandon last year and, shit, her body is bangin' hot."
"Dude, what body? She weighs, like, eighty pounds. Now her sister, that's a nice piece of ass."
Teenage boys could be so crass. I tried blocking out the crude conversation going on
in the next row of lockers by returning to a happier train of thought. I envisioned what Bella
would look like in the gown I'd bought for her birthday. I'd had it tailored based off a
pattern from one of Arwen's dresses in LotR, excited that this one specifically showed off a
bit of her ches–
"Come on, you'd seriously rather do Cynthia over Alice?"
"Dude, I'd do 'em both. That threesome is waiting to happen."
Why did they have to be so vile? I recollected the color of fabric I'd picked out, a
lighter shade of blue, of course. Blue always looked best on her and there was always the
chance the pale fabric would be see th–
"The tough question is whether I'd hit it with Brandon or Bella Swan…"
My body stiffened. I gripped my gym T-shirt firmly.
"…'cause Brandon's rep tells you she's a freak in the sack, while Swan, you know she has a tight,
little–"
I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the T-shirt tighter in my palm, and prayed that
their voices would go away. This wasn't the first time the boys at school had talked about
Bella; she was the most gorgeous girl in school so it was bound to happen. But it had never
been this sickening, this revolting before, at least not right in front of me.
"Are you kidding? You know her and Cullen haven't done shit together."
"That's the best part! She's got that, 'Pure, ripe for the picking' vibe. But, man, if I could get her on
her knees–"

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 "SHUT UP!" I roared, pounding my T-shirt covered fist against the locker in front
of me. The image he had forced upon me of my precious angel on her knees before him
made me queasy, and I had never felt so much fury in my life. I flung around the row of
lockers to face Michael Newton and Tyler Crowley. "Never speak about her like that again."
They both looked surprised to see me standing there, but Tyler soon recovered by
chuckling good-naturedly and saying, "You know we were only kidding around."
"Well don't," I said.
"Dude, you can't tell us what we can and can't say," Mike said. "Swan's one fine piece
of ass, and if you won't tap that, she's fair game."
"Shut up."
"You can't keep me from speaking my mind, bro. It's my first amendment right to
free speech," Mike said, a laugh in his voice. "And I'm thinking that you should give Swan
my number so I can show her how a real man can make her see God and all the apostles.
That bitch will scream my name–"
Something in me snapped. Rage. I felt an insurmountable rage flood my body. I
pounced on Mike. My fist connected with his jaw. The T-shirt I had been gripping was gone,
letting a satisfying sting electrify my knuckle. My arm swung back and lashed again. It was
more the unexpectedness of my attack than actual skill that allowed me to hit Mike again and
again, before I felt Tyler's arms wrap around my chest and pull me back.
Mike stood up from where I had rammed him into the locker. "What the hell,
Cullen!" He wiped blood from his nose.
"Don't you ever say her name again. EVER!" I yelled, struggling against Tyler's grip.
Mike laughed. "I'll say her name while she's giving me h–"
There was a loud bang from behind me. Tyler groaned in pain, then released me. I
saw Mike's eyes widen as I flew at him, tackling him to the concrete ground. Just when I was
about to land another punch, he managed to knee me in the gut… hard. A deep grunt fell
from my lips. I lost my balance and rolled over, enough to see that, of all people, Emmett
McCarty was holding Tyler down so he couldn't interfere.
Mike used my moment of distraction to push me off and stand up. Gaining my
equilibrium back, I lunged for Mike's knees with enough force to knock him off his feet and
back into the locker. He groaned loudly with the impact of the fall. I crawled over to where
he was lying, and yanked the front of his T-shirt so he looked me in the eye. "Don't you ever
speak about her again," I said, breathless from the fight. Mike eyed me warily.
"Edward, we have to get out of here." I turned to the sound of Emmett's voice.
"Coach Clapp is going to freak if he finds us – holy shit!" I heard, rather than felt, the impact
of Mike's fist connecting with my eye. It took a second for the full force of the disorienting
pain to hit me, and, when it did, I fought back a whimper I wouldn't give Mike the pleasure
of hearing.
"Dude, that was not cool," Emmett reprimanded.
"He started it!" Mike whined.
"Whatever, man. Sucker punches are for pussies," Emmett said, clear disgust in his
voice. "And I heard what you were saying about Bella Swan. You don't talk about another
man's girl like that."
Mike clearly had a death wish. He chuckled and said, "You're just saying that 'cause
Royce fu-"
I barely managed to get out of Emmett's way as he thundered toward Mike and
kicked him firmly in the gut. "Shut the hell up, asshole." Emmett turned his furious gaze
towards Tyler who was hovering at the other end of the lockers. He pointed to his foot and

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then to Mike. "That didn't happen," he told him, a silent threat in his words. "And I was
trying to get Edward off Mike, not hold you back."
Tyler looked between Emmett and Mike, who was pathetically clutching his stomach
on the floor, then to me. I simply shrugged – I wasn't about to rat out Emmett. Tyler
nodded in agreement.
Emmett grinned wildly. "Well, I guess that about makes you a hero, doesn't it?" he
said with a pat on my back.
"Uh, sure?" I said. A hero?
Emmett laughed, but it was cut off by the shrieking sound of a whistle. All four of us
looked up to find Coach Clapp standing in the doorway and his face told me that, hero or
not, I was in a tremendous amount of trouble.

It's funny how a certain situation can bring back memories of events from your
childhood. In first grade, the entire class would go out to the park and play Power Rangers
together. The boys would run around pretending to throw punches and kicks at each other,
while the girls argued over who got to be the Pink Ranger. Specifically, I remembered this
one time where Mike was pretending to punch me, and accidentally hit my nose. There was
blood everywhere and Emmett, as the Blue Ranger and therefore the healer, volunteered to
take me to the nurse's office. As we were walking off the playground, Mike "tripped" over
Emmett's shoelaces and had to go to the nurse, too.
I'd forgotten all about that until about ten seconds ago, and now I felt a slight tinge
of nostalgia sitting in the reception area of the principal's office with Mike and Emmett.
The three of us had already gone in to recount what happened to Principal Benson
(or, at least, recount what Emmett had told us to say) and the school nurse had stopped by
to check out my and Mike's injuries. She gave us disappointed looks and muttered several,
"tut tut tut's" under her breath. Mike was a lot worse off than I was, but I still managed my
fair share of bruises and a cut above my eyebrow.
Mike was sitting in the chair across the coffee table with an ice-pack over his eye.
Tyler was taking his turn talking to the principal. Emmett had spent the last five minutes
asking me intrusive questions about Bella's and my sexual relationship (or lack thereof).
"Dude, you're telling me that you and Bella haven't done anything anything?"
"No."
"But how?"
"Not everything in a relationship is about sex," I said, hoping that Ms. Cope was
sufficiently distracted so as not to overhear the contents of our whispered conversation.
"Well, duh. It's not all about sex. There are obviously other things, ya know?" He
paused for a moment, then looked at me suspiciously. "Wait, do you know that there are
other things?"
I couldn't help but crack a smile. Emmett had been a good friend when we were
seven, but we had drifted apart when I discovered LotR and he discovered what was under
Rosalie Hale's pink Power Ranger costume. "Yes, I know there are other things. I choose
not do them."
"But why?"
"Because Bella is not a harlot. She's a lady and deserves to be treated as such," I
explained, amused by this whole line of questioning. "Sure, Bella and I could give in and do
stuff together, but what's the rush? We have our whole lives to spend together."

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 "You do realize that only, like, two percent of high school couples actually get
married, right?"
"The other ninety-eight percent didn't have what Bella and I share," I answered
earnestly. "But what about you and Rosalie? Don't you…" I trailed off as I noticed a slight
tightening in Emmett's eyes and jaw. After a few moments of awkwardly letting the last
statement hang in the air, I glanced down at my watch for something else to look at and was
surprised by the time. There was only two hours left before lunch and I wanted this all to be
over before Bella had the chance to worry. "I wonder what's taking so long."
Emmett snorted. "I bet Crowley's in there squealing like a little girl."
"I don't think so. You do a fairly convincing imitation of the Enforcer."
"Well, you do a fairly convincing imitation of The Rock," he said.
"Mostly it was luck. And I couldn't have done it without you, so thanks."
"I was looking to kick someone's ass anyway," Emmett said. "But aren't you worried?
I mean, shit like this goes on your transcript."
Never once until this moment had I even considered the fact that this would blemish
my perfect record – a record I'd spent the last decade of my life striving to keep flawless.
"No, I guess I'm not. I promise, though, to make sure none of this goes against your record.
You were only trying to help me. Provided Tyler isn't 'squealing like a girl,' you should be
fine."
Emmett laughed. "Dude, that wasn't for me; that was all about you. I don't give a
shit about my permanent record." I must have looked as confused as I felt because he said,
"Come on, man. You beat the shit out of Mike Newton and had to have both Tyler Crowley
and the great Emmett McCarty pull you off him? That shit is legendary, man. No dude will
be talking smack about your girl for years to come."
A small smile crept onto my mouth. "So, you did that to–" I was interrupted by the
office door swinging open. Chief Swan walked in and over to Ms. Cope's desk.
I. Was. So. Screwed.
"Dude, you are so screwed," Mike said. "They called the police. You are totally
getting booked for this."
"Shut the hell up, idiot," Emmett said. "You were the one making inappropriate
comments about the police chief's only daughter."
Mike's face paled, and he remained silent after that.
"Chief Swan, I'm glad that you're here," Principal Benson said, leading Tyler out of
his office. "Crowley, McCarty, you can both return to your classes now."
Chief Swan shook Principal Benson's hand and mumbled something I couldn't hear.
Grabbing his backpack, Emmett stood up from his chair. "Do you tell Bella the truth about
everything?"
"I try to," I said, feeling qualmish about the fact that I hadn't yet told her about my
relationship with her father, and realizing she was probably going to find out later that night
when he prohibited her from seeing me again.
"Well don't tell her the truth about this. I mean, at least not the whole truth.
Remember – legendary," he said with a wink. "Good luck, buddy." On his way to the exit,
Emmett stopped where Chief Swan was standing and whispered something in his ear. The
Chief shot a furious glance at Mike, who turned green. He let his gaze linger on Mike, then
turned back to the principal.
I couldn't have looked much better than Mike. Four days ago Chief Swan had
presented me with solid evidence that I was in his good graces, and now any goodwill I had

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built up over the past year was gone. It was devastating to realize how deeply this one
mishap could affect my relationship with Bella.
"Mr. Cullen, you are free to leave with Chief Swan now," the principal said. Holy
Faramir! I was going to jail.
"Don't look so pleased, Mr. Newton," Chief Swan snapped. "I'll be placing a
personal call to your parents tonight. Come along, Edward." Hopefully one good thing
would come out of this, and Chief Swan's threat would scare Mike into never thinking about
touching Bella again.
My gait was unsteady as I followed Chief Swan into the hallway. What he was about
to do was going to hurt far worse than any punch Mike might throw at me. If he forbade me
from seeing Bella again, I'd find a way to be with her no matter what (even if it did involve
sneaking into her window at night). I needed her like I needed to breathe.
Chief Swan shut the office door behind me, but didn't continue on to the school
exit. He just stood there, and not wanting to be rude, I opted to stand by the door as well.
"He, the principal, wanted to give you seven days suspension for the fight," Chief Swan said.
"But I was able to talk him down to three days suspension with twenty-five hours of
community service."
"Oh," I said, not sure if it would be appropriate to thank him.
"And we'll go ahead and consider the community service time-served from the hours
you put in down at the station," he said.
"Okay. Thank you, sir, for letting me serve under you for so long. It was truly an
honor. I'll return my police uniform to you later this afternoon," I said, truly sad that my
time at the sheriff's department was ending due to this foolish debacle. "I also understand
that you may have to arrest me for assaulting Mike Newton. I accept that."
"Edward, you don't have to–"
"But please," I interrupted as a sudden wave of desperation swept over me, "don't
force me to stay away from Bella over this. I couldn't stand it if you did. I know statistically
speaking fifty-eight percent of people arrested for assault are likely to be repeat offenders,
but I promise that I will never do anything like this again. And I would never do anything to
hurt Bella or put her in danger. I will always protect her, even if it is against myself." There
was something in my eye and it began to water up. I averted my gaze from his, furiously
blinking.
Chief Swan had been silent during my speech, watching me carefully, as if to detect
any falsehood in my words. "I know that my daughter is safe with you," he finally said, and I
let out a sigh of relief. "Edward, I'm not here today to fire you from the police station or to
arrest you for assault. I'm here as your emergency contact because your father is in surgery
and your mother is on a field trip with the middle school."
"What?"
"Your parents asked me to be your emergency contact a few months ago because
your grandmother lives farther away," he clarified. "And, uh, also, we spend a lot of time
together, you and me." He cleared his throat and looked off at the lockers. "Edward, you
should know that if you ever need anything at all, you can count on me to be there and have
your back. As the Chief of Police, I have to say that your actions were reprehensible. But as
Bella's father, I need to thank you for sticking up for her, for protecting her, the way you did.
That's how I know that she's safe with you and, uh, I'm proud of you, son, for taking care of
my little girl."

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 There were no words to describe how I felt at his words. It was quickly becoming
one of the best non-Bella related moments in my life. "I promise to spend the rest of my life
protecting Bella, sir."
He chuckled. "Edward, I admire your dedication, but only two percent of high
school sweethearts actually get married and you've only just started ninth grade. There are
other fish in the sea, so to speak."
"No, sir," I said. "I may be young, but I know that Bella is the only fish for me."
Chief Swan was looking at me in that intense way he had when we'd talked about fish in his
office and comprehension slowly dawned. When the Chief talked about "fish" he wasn't
talking about fish at all – he was talking about Bella. It was the most obvious metaphor in
the world. "She's my tiger muskie."
His eyes probed mine for any hint of insincerity. He mustn't have found any because
he nodded, saying, "You better go get the stuff you'll need over the next few days. I'll bring
Bella over to your house after school is finished."
I turned away from him to walk to my locker, a feeling of victory swelling in my
chest. It was baffling that my assault of Mike Newton turned out so splendidly, but I still
couldn't help the small smile that lit my face at the thought of officially having Chief Swan's
approval. My smile faltered, however, when I realized just how strange our conversation had
been the other day. I was going to have to re-evaluate everything that he had ever said about
fish. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine as I realized he wasn't talking about
"cooking" fish for our wedding.
Oh well – only four years, ten months, and twelve days to go.

As Edward gathered his school supplies, Charlie noticed something rather odd on
the other side of the hallway and walked over to investigate.

Bella Swan
Born 2:57 a.m., September 13, 1988

The locker was ridiculously flamboyant, but what caught Charlie's attention was the
barely noticeable message inscribed in tiny handwritten letters, "Amin mela lle." Charlie
decided then and there that at Edward and Bella's wedding, he'd swear on his mother's grave
that he'd never had a doubt in his mind that they'd end up together.

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 Outtake: The Reaffirmation of Edward and Bella as Seen by Carlisle Cullen

Originally written and posted after Chapter 15: The First Time She Told Him She Loved Him,
this outtake is an “outsider’s” perspective on Edward and Bella’s relationship. To this day, it’s one of my
favorite things I’ve written.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen had always considered himself to be lucky in regards to his family.
He'd endured his fair share of struggles, but by the grace of God he'd overcome the odds.
After a difficult pregnancy, his wife had delivered a baby boy six weeks pre-mature on June
20, 1988. The first few weeks had been devastating for Carlisle and Esme, as they watched
their son fight to be strong enough to live and breathe on his own.
There was never a happier day for either of the new parents as when they brought
Edward home to their beautiful white house and settled into a cozy lifestyle. Watching
Edward grow up was the joy of Carlisle and Esme's life and, in Carlisle's mind, the three of
them made the perfect little family.
As he got older, Esme began to worry that Edward was missing something in his life.
The young boy was rather reclusive, choosing to spend his time reading instead of playing
with kids his age. Though he would never use the word "normal" to describe his son,
Carlisle thought that Edward was happy and he knew that his son was healthy – that was all
that mattered in his eyes.
Carlisle could have never predicted that the arrival of the Police Chief's only
daughter to Forks would have affected his life so thoroughly. He never expected to see the
young girl beyond perhaps an occasional trip to the emergency room. And yet on September
5, 2001 the lives of the entire Cullen family changed irrevocably when the little spitfire
named Bella Swan tumbled (quite literally) into town.
"And where are you going?" Carlisle had called as his son charged into the house that
afternoon and immediately headed up to his room.
Edward paused midway up the stairs. "I have to get changed. I need to go to the
police station to talk to Chief Swan."
"What? The police station? What did you do?"
"It's not what you think," Esme cut in, following her son into the house. She walked
over to Carlisle and pecked him on the cheek. "Edward has found his soul mate."
He looked between his wife and his son in disbelief, expecting one of them to start
laughing. "Is that true?" he asked Edward, when neither of them did.
Carlisle almost choked on a cough as Edward's eyes glazed over and the goofiest grin
overtook his face. "The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost; her white arms and clear face
were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night; yet queenly
she looked, and thought and knowledge were in her glance, as of one who has known many things that the
years bring."
"So she's… Arwen?" Carlisle concluded, debating having another discussion with his
son about the difference between reality and fiction.
"Better! And her eyes are not grey, but rather like orbs dipped in the deepest,
darkest, sweetest chocolate imaginable."
His son had just described a girl's eyes as chocolate orbs. It was like something out
of a bad romance novel. "And what's this about the police station?"

  424  
 "The girl who has so swiftly stolen our son's affection is Chief Swan's daughter,"
Esme said. "He wants to go talk to Charlie about possibly dating her."
"Don't you think you're jumping the gun there?" Carlisle asked, amused at his son's
unusual request.
"No, you don't understand. You haven't seen her. She is… breathtaking. The boys at
school couldn't stop talking about her. I have to act now, before it's too late."
Carlisle tried to process what was happening. That morning Edward had woken up,
had a bowl of fruit loops, and accidentally slammed into the front door frame when he tried
to walk and read The Two Towers at the same time. And now he was in love?
"She's everything I could have imagined and more. She's my soul mate." The young
boy's voice held no doubt or sense of irony.
"Your soul mate?" When Esme had said it earlier, it sounded like a joke. Edward said
it with such sincerity that Carlisle wouldn't dare laugh at his son's newfound devotion.
And yet, it wasn't the way Edward wouldn't stop prattling on about Bella's eyes,
Bella's hair, Bella's t-shirt that convinced Carlisle to drive Edward to the police station later
that day, but rather the way his wife's eyes sparkled as she watched her son talk about the
new love of his life. From the expression on Esme's face, Carlisle could tell that Edward had
found that elusive something that had been missing from his life for the past thirteen years.
He made a silent promise to his wife that he would do everything in his power to
make sure that Edward never lost it again.

Carlisle sat back in his office chair and massaged his forehead. That promise was
getting more difficult to keep as each day passed. How had he never realized what obstinate,
difficult creatures teenage boys could be? Granted, Edward had never acted the part of the
rebellious, disgruntled teen before, but he had come unflinchingly close to the edge since his
break-up with Bella. Carlisle feared that a few more days like today would push him over
that edge.
How Edward had managed to land himself in the principal's office for the second
time in a year was beyond Carlisle's comprehension. He'd been so attached to his spotless
academic record previous to this year. A fight with Michael Newton and a root beer float
had changed all that.
Carlisle cleared his thoughts and flipped through the patients' charts he'd be treating
tonight. It would be a fairly quiet evening – so far there was only a girl in her early teens with
a broken leg and a pregnant woman who was having early labor pains. This was his first day
back to work since Friday, having taken a four-day sabbatical to stay home with Edward
while he worked through his devastation over losing Bella. Not that it had done any good.
Carlisle was useless at dealing with this side of his son, though he'd always been Edward's
closest friend and confidant.
Of course, he'd known that as his son got older their relationship would begin to
change. What Carlisle hadn't realized until the night Edward lost Bella was how much it
already had changed. He no longer carried the title of best friend – that belonged to Bella
now.
Carlisle picked the charts up from his desk and made his way towards the maternity
ward. Since suffering through his own terrifying ordeal, he'd had a soft place in his heart for
young, pregnant mothers. He understood how frightening it could be feeling as if something
was not quite right with the baby.

  425  
 The young girl with the broken leg would have to wait.
Still, something about his decision felt off. As he made his way to the young mother,
he couldn't help but think of Bella.

A loud pounding on his office door roused Carlisle from the book he was reading.
The art of paper airplane making was often overlooked in the United States, but John
Collins managed to outline the finer points of the craft perfectly in his book The Gliding
Flight.
He was surprised to find Bella at his door, and even more so when she said, "I need
to go home."
Something was wrong. Bella never asked to be taken home. She'd stay until curfew
every night, and even then Edward would ride in the back seat of the car with her. "Are you
sick?" Carlisle snapped into doctor mode and did a quick mental inventory of her physical
appearance. She was grasping her backpack tightly in front of her, her eyes were bloodshot,
and she was trembling.
"No. I just need to go home," she said.
"Okay." Carlisle grabbed his keys. "Will Edward be coming with us?"
"No," she said, her voice empty. "He won't be. Not anymore." Not this. Anything
but this. Edward would be devastated. "Do you mind if we leave now? I really need to get
home."
Carlisle focused back on the girl in front of him. He needed to take care of her
before he began to think of what awaited his return in the aftermath of a break-up. "Can you
meet me down at the car? I need to make a quick call first."
She left the office without another word.
He picked up the phone and dialed a number he had come to know by heart over
the past year. "Charlie, we have a problem…"

He might not have recognized the bedroom he walked into as Edward's if it were
not for his son sitting stagnant at the foot of his bed amongst the trashed ruins of what had
once been his personal sanctuary.
Slowly, Carlisle waded through the chaotic remnants of Edward's bedroom. His
dresser had been pushed over, but not before he had taken out every article of clothing in it
and furiously thrown them around the room. The shelf that had held all of his Audrey
Hepburn memorabilia had been pulled out of the wall, leaving large chunks of plaster
missing where the nails had been. A poster of Arwen had been shredded to pieces and the
frame that had held it broken by the fists of a distraught teenage boy repeatedly throwing
blow after blow to it.
Carlisle paused when he stepped on a sketchbook that lay on the floor. Edward had
torn every drawing the book contained to scraps, but Carlisle could make out bits and pieces
of Bella's face. He bent down and reached to pick up the book.
"Don't," Edward ordered. "Don't touch that."
"Okay." Carlisle straightened his stance but did not move towards his son. It was
clear Edward wasn't ready to be approached. "Why – why did you tear them up?"
For a moment he thought Edward wasn't going to answer, not because he didn't
want to but because he seemed at a loss for words. "She didn't like them."

  426  
 Carlisle wanted to question that; Bella had always been intrigued by Edward's artistic
aptitude. But it wasn't a good idea to challenge his son right now. Instead he asked the
question he most wanted to know. "What happened?"
Edward was silent much longer at this query. "She doesn't love me," he said minutes
later.
"That isn't true." There had never been any doubt about the extent of affection the
young girl felt toward his son.
"And what would you know about it?" Edward asked, angrily turning to face his
father. "Can you read her mind? Because I certainly can't."
"You don't always need to be a mind reader to know what people are thinking."
Edward had already turned his back to him. "Listen to me. I saw how she looked at you on
your first date and I see how she looks at you now. She does love–"
"Fuck off."
Never in his life had his son spoken like that, and Carlisle stood in stunned silence.
"Please, leave," the boy amended quietly.
"Let me help you," Carlisle pleaded.
"Out! Get out!" Edward's voice broke and a sob ripped through his body.
Carlisle stood there for only a moment longer, then turned and walked out of the
room. He waited outside Edward's bedroom door for hours, hoping that his son could feel
his presence through the wall that divided them. When Esme came home, he couldn't find it
in himself to leave his son alone. His wife returned a few minutes later carrying pillows and
blankets, and the two parents spent the night on the hallway floor.
He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep until he woke up to the sound of Edward
retching into the bathroom toilet. For the first time in years, Carlisle shed a tear for his son.

Instead of going in to work like any normal Tuesday, Carlisle sat in his home office,
sifting through paperwork.
It'd been four days since what he now scathingly called "the incident" had taken
place and Edward wasn't doing much better than he had that first night. He hardly slept, he
barely ate, and he outright refused to discuss "the incident" beyond what he had already told
his father. Esme was out of her mind with worry, not to mention distraught by Bella's
absence.
On Monday, she had insisted that Edward wasn't ready to go back to school yet, and
against his better judgment, Carlisle had allowed him to stay home. It was his opinion that in
order to move past this, his son should confront his problem head-on instead of running
away from it. But perhaps a few days home from school, cooped up in his depressing torn-
up bedroom, was what Edward needed.
To put his wife's mind further at ease, Carlisle had taken the last few days off work.
He'd brought paperwork home from the office to keep his mind occupied between his
hourly check-ups of Edward, which essentially included walking upstairs, opening his son's
bedroom door, and making sure he was still alive. He didn't believe Edward was really
capable of hurting himself, but he wasn't ready to leave the volatile teen home alone yet.
Carlisle was just reading over a grant proposal for new x-raying equipment when the
soulful sound of Sting singing “Ain't No Sunshine” began blaring from Edward's stereo
through the ceiling. Carlisle groaned – his son did have a flair for the dramatics. Over the
last two days, he'd blasted Whitney Houston's “I Will Always Love You,” Patrick Swayze's

  427  
“She's Like the Wind,” Taylor Dane's “Love Will Lead You Back,” and many more equally
ridiculous eighties power ballads throughout the house… on repeat. Carlisle was slowly
beginning to lose his mind.
By the sixteenth repeat of “Ain't No Sunshine,” Carlisle had hit his limit. Preparing
himself for a confrontation with his son, he put down his paperwork and walked upstairs.
He didn't bother knocking on the door; Edward couldn't have heard it over the ruckus his
stereo was making anyway. The room was completely dark – the lights were off and the
window shades were drawn with the slightest touch of sunlight peeking through the edges.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust so he could find his son. When he did, his
heart stopped. Edward sat in a lonely chair placed directly in the center of the damaged
room with one of Carlisle's brandy glasses in his hand. Watching in horror as his son, yet
unaware of his presence, raised the glass to his lips and took a sip, Carlisle nearly burst with
anger. He understood that Edward was in pain but how many hundreds of times had he
gone over the dangers of underage drinking with him?
He marched over to where his son sat and yanked the glass away from him.
Edward's face transformed into the same angered expression as Carlisle's. Shouting
something that couldn't be heard over the stereo, Edward made a grab for the glass, and
Carlisle felt his fury peak. Striding over to the window, he threw open the shades and then
made his way to the stereo where he slammed the off button.
"I need that!" Edward shouted, before silence could fall over the room.
Carlisle kept his back turned, trying to remind himself of what it was like to be a
teenage boy with a broken heart. He couldn't dredge up the sympathy necessary to keep his
temper in check. "How could you, Edward?" he asked, spinning to face him. "I can not
begin to tell you how disappointed and angry I am. I know that you are hurting but this," he
held up the glass for emphasis, "is unacceptable. Alcohol is not–" Carlisle paused as
something about the brandy glass caught his attention. He stared at it a moment longer
before bringing it to his nose and sniffing. "This is chocolate milk."
Edward crossed his arms defensively. "What's your point?"
"Why are you using one of my brandy glasses?"
"Haven't you ever heard of symbolism, Dad?"
Not quite knowing what to say, Carlisle took a moment to reflect on the situation.
He had caught his son sitting in the dark, drinking chocolate milk out of a brandy glass. A
small, hysterical laugh sounded throughout the room. "What am I going to do with you? I
have to warn you, chocolate milk is a slippery slope." Carlisle knew he shouldn't mock his
son right now, but he blamed it on the absolute madness of the situation. "What next, hot
chocolate? Coffee? Or worse, espresso?"
"I do not need to explain myself to you," Edward said, grabbing the glass back.
"Now, if you don't mind, I have things to do."
Carlisle patted his son on the shoulder and headed out of the room. The lights cut
off as Edward lowered the shades. Carlisle stopped in the doorway to offer one last
sentiment before the music started up again. "Oh and Edward?" The bronze head did not
turn but Carlisle knew he was listening. "You're going back to school tomorrow."

"Ace high bids," Charlie said, nodding to Principal Benson.

Benson opened his wallet and pulled out two ones. "Two dollars." He tossed them in
the middle of his desk.

  428  
 The irony was not lost on any of the three men that the Chief of Police, the
hospital's Chief of Staff, and the Fork's High School Principal were all cramped in a small
office playing Seven Card Stud on another man's dime. The taxpayers would not be happy.
Carlisle looked at the two cards sitting in front of the principal, a two and an ace. He
wasn't a whiz at poker, but he'd played his fair share in the dorms at John Hopkins. The
smirk on Benson's face was an easy tell that he was excited about something hidden in his
hand. "I call," Carlisle said, throwing in his two dollars. It was too early in the game to know
anything, but his hand was shaping up nicely.
"Are they talking yet?" Charlie asked as he also called and tossed in two dollars.
Carlisle leaned back to peek out the one miniscule window in the office. Edward and
Bella were sitting with their arms crossed and their backs turned to each other, waiting for
the three men to emerge. The plan that the two fathers had so brilliantly concocted upon
entering the principal's office was to not leave the room until Edward and Bella had talked
out their issues. Alas, the pigheaded teens didn't seem inclined to talk at all. Half an hour
into their plan without the slightest hint of movement from either of them, Principal Benson
had broken out the playing cards.
"Nope," Carlisle said, coming back to the game to find that Benson had dealt a king
to add to the pair of twos. In his hand he held a king and a seven. Two pairs. Not bad for
someone who hadn't played poker since college. "I swear we have the two most stubborn
kids on the planet. Of course they had to gravitate towards each other. I thought opposites
were supposed to attract."
"Haven't you heard? They are opposite," Charlie said. "Bella likes Harry Potter and
Edward likes Lord of the Rings. How will they ever survive?"
Carlisle looked up from his cards. "Wait a minute. That is what this whole mess has
been about? Surely not!"
"I'm assuming there's more, but Bella refuses to talk about it."
"Same on this end." Carlisle threw a dollar into the pot. "As I said, ridiculously
stubborn, those two."
Charlie let out a gruff chuckle. "Maybe, but you can't deny that they're meant to be
together. Knew that the day Edward walked into my office."
"Did you, now?" Carlisle didn't believe for a second that a father as protective as
Charlie would ever think that his daughter was "meant to be" with a boy she had known less
than twelve hours.
"Yes." Charlie looked him straight in the eye. "I swear it on my mother's grave."
"Well, I'm personally shocked that you let a little punk like Edward date your
daughter at all," Principal Benson said, dealing the next round. "No offense Dr. Cullen, but
the boy seems like a troublemaker."
Carlisle felt a flash of anger. Edward was many things – a geek, a gamer, a nerd – but
he certainly was not a troublemaker. He was about to speak up in defense of his son, when
Charlie beat him to the punch. "Edward may be many things but a troublemaker is not one
of them." There was a cold tone to his voice and a glint of anger in his eye that made Carlisle
feel envious of the relationship this other man had built with his son.
"Oh, come now," the principal said. "This is the second time he's landed himself in
the office since the start of the school year. That should mean something to you, of all
people."
Charlie's gaze turned even stonier. "Yes, he has. The first time he was in here
because he defended my daughter. The second was because he needed to be defended from
her. He's a good kid."

  429  
 "Now, that's not fair," Carlisle said. It was his job to defend Edward, not Charlie's.
"You can't blame Bella for everything."
Charlie shook his head and chuckled. "Bella isn't the one sitting out there with vanilla
ice-cream and root beer in her hair. She's hardly innocent."
"Well, yes. But we both know Edward must have done or said something extremely
stupid to drive Bella to do that."
"As if that's any excuse," Charlie said. "Bella's like her old man, stubborn as a mule
with the temper of a raging bull. She's been so unpredictable this week that I wouldn't be
surprised if all the poor boy had to say was 'hi' for her to dump it on him."
Carlisle scoffed. "Poor boy? As if Edward is some kind of angel. This has been the
week from hell in the Cullen household. He's no saint. Trust me, whatever Bella did, she did
it because he provoked her."
Charlie sat forward in agitation. "I highly doubt–"
He was cut off by the principal clearing his throat loudly. "Gentlemen, as amusing as
it is watching the two of you defending the other's kid, which, by the way, has never before
happened in my twenty year teaching career, we are playing a game of poker here."
"No, Benson, Carlisle and I are playing poker," Charlie said bemusedly. "The two
and three in your hand, coupled with the seven you were just dealt equal squat. It takes five
to make a straight, not four."
The smirk immediately slipped from Principal Benson's face. "How did you–"
"You have a tell," Carlisle and Charlie answered at the same time. The two stared at
each other, coming to a silent understanding that neither was dealing with a novice.
The principal scowled and tossed his cards on the table. "I'm out."
Charlie turned back to Carlisle. "Pair of kings gets to bet," he reminded the doctor.
Glancing down at his cards, Carlisle checked the last card he'd been dealt. Dear God,
he'd gotten a full house! He looked over at Charlie's cards. In front of him were a seven, a
three, and a pair of tens. Unless he had gold in his hand (which Carlisle highly doubted)
there was no way he could beat a full house. "I bet five dollars."
Charlie seemed to study Carlisle before throwing a five-dollar bill into the pot. "I'll
see your five dollars and I'll raise you five dollars." He threw a second five-dollar bill onto
the desk.
Surprised that Charlie had raised the pot, Carlisle hesitated. He hadn't made a bet the
entire round. He's the Chief of Police – he's good at bluffing. "All right." He pulled out his wallet.
"I'll see your five dollars and raise you ten dollars."
Charlie's lip twitched. "This is Seven Card Stud, not checkers. You can't raise again."
Attempting to cover up the fact that he had not known that, Carlisle said in his most
daring voice, "Come on. Between friends, we can certainly bend the rules a little, right?"
Charlie was looking far too amused and smug for Carlisle's liking so on a whim he added,
"Unless you don't have the, uh, cards, for that." He hoped that Charlie understood that he
was using "cards" as a euphemism for "balls."
"All right. I'll see your ten dollars and raise you twenty dollars." Principal Benson let
out a low whistle. For a game that was supposed to have a five dollar limit, this was getting
pretty steep.
"Fine. I'll see your twenty dollars and raise you fifty dollars." Cullen men were never
known to back down from a challenge.
Charlie rolled his eyes. "I'm the Chief of Police in Forks," he said patiently, as if he
were explaining very simple math. "I do not have the luxury of ever having that much cash."

  430  
 "Oh. Right," Carlisle said. "Never mind then, twenty dollars it is." Perhaps he was
too excited for his own good as he flipped over his hidden cards to reveal his full house. He
wasn't a particularly aggressive man, but something in Charlie brought out his competitive
side.
"That's a good hand," Charlie conceded with a nod.
A smile crawled up on Carlisle's face as his eager hand twitched towards the
winnings. The testosterone running unfiltered in his veins released the predator within, and
his animalistic male nature let out a roar of victory.
"However, it doesn't beat four of a kind," Charlie said, revealing his pair of tens.
Damnit.

Despite the emotional toll this week had taken on him, Carlisle smiled politely at Rita
Crowley, the woman running the nurse's station.
"Mrs. Thompson came by a few minutes ago and wanted to say thank you for
calming her down," Rita said. "Hopefully she'll learn to differentiate between labor pains and
indigestion."
"This is her first pregnancy and that can be a scary thing. All that matters is if I can
give her peace of mind," Carlisle said. "Do we have the x-rays from the teenager with the
broken leg yet?"
"Yep." The nurse handed Carlisle a clipboard with the patient's full medical record
and the x-rays. "The chief's daughter is in bay two."
The chief's daughter? "The chief of what?" he asked, rejecting the conclusion his mind
had already come to.
"Chief Swan," she clarified. "The Chief of Police. You know him, don't you?"
It felt as if the air had been knocked out of Carlisle. Snapshots of all the horrible
ways Bella could have broken her leg started running through his head and he suddenly felt
sick. Part of him said he shouldn't react so strongly. But the other, more prominent part of
him was screaming that this was his family – the girl his son loved and would one day marry.
She was his daughter in every way that mattered.
"Dr. Cullen? Are you all right?"
"Why didn't someone come get me?"
The nurse looked confounded at his harsh tone. "It isn't critical. She's young, non-
pregnant, and perfectly healthy. It wasn't an emergency."
Carlisle was already shaking his head. "Let me be clear, Rita, with her it is always an
emergency." He was being unfair and irrational, but didn't care. Bella was lying injured in this
hospital and nothing else mattered.
"Really, she's perfectly–"
"Forget it." He was already running to bay two. No matter how often he repeated
non-critical, non-emergency, young, perfectly healthy in his mind, he couldn't get his racing heart to
decelerate. He paused outside the bay, not wanting to barge in there hysterically; that would
freak Bella out. He at least needed to appear calm and collected.
Taking one last deep breath, he stepped inside. "I heard the police chief's daughter
was here." He was trying for suave, but it was more awkward than anything.
"That she is," Bella murmured from her hospital bed.
Charlie stood up from his chair and shook Carlisle's hand. "Doesn't it feel as if we
just said goodbye?"

  431  
 "Well, at least the kids keep us busy," Carlisle said. "How did she do it?"
"Tripped over a cash register."
"Right." To anyone else this explanation might seem odd. To Carlisle it made perfect
sense, this was Bella after all.
"My leg has been broked," Bella said. "Broked by a cash register."
"The morphine seems to have kicked in quite quickly," Carlisle observed, as Charlie
sat back down. "Bella, why don't you tell me about this cash register. What happened?"
Carlisle walked over to his patient and pulled out a penlight to check how reactive her pupils
were.
"That light looks like Edward's penny jar," she said.
Carlisle halted his movement. "Did you hit your head when you fell?"
"Nope."
"Are you sure about that?" His patients didn't normally start talking about penny jars
unless they had sustained some kind of head injury.
"Yeppers. The cash register hit me leg. Hit me leg hard. But not as hard as Edward
hit me heart."
At her statement an idea so horrible, so grotesque, and yet so appealing planted itself
in Carlisle's mind. He knew it was wrong. He knew it was unethical. But he couldn't bring
himself to stop. "I'm going to need to ask you some questions about your personal life while
I finish checking your vitals."
"Why?"
"Because he needs to make sure your brain still works right," Charlie said, eagerly
leaning forward. "You make sure to answer everything he asks."
"Okie dokie, artichokie."
Carlisle pushed all feelings of guilt aside. Hopefully she wouldn't remember this
tomorrow. "Can you hear this?" he asked, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together near
her ear.
"Yes."
"Very good. Did you bite your tongue when you fell?"
"Nope."
"Do you like Lord of the Rings?"
"Nope."
"Did you hurt your elbow when you fell?"
"Nope."
"Did you tell Edward that you don't like Lord of the Rings?"
"Yep."
"Did you ask Edward for your Evenstar back?"
"Absolutely not."
"Are you still working at MyT-Spot?"
"Oh, my God. I don't know!"
"Are you sexually active?" Charlie butt in.
"Ugh, Dad, no. We're only fourteen years old and Edward wants to wait until
marriage. But that doesn't stop his thing from getting har–"
Charlie threw his hands over his ears. "Okay, okay, okay. I get it. Shut up."
There was a brief awkward silence in the room before Carlisle continued. "Did
Edward break-up with you?"
"Yes," she answered immediately and then paused. "Maybe. I don't know. It was all
very confusing."

  432  
 "Was the break-up over Harry Potter versus Lord of the Rings?"
"Well," she dragged out the word. "It depends on how you look at it."
"How do you look at it?" Carlisle asked impatiently.
"Harry Potter's hot. What's the big deal? I mean, it's not a complete departure. They
both have green eyes like apples and green M&M's. They're like orbs of grassy wonder that
make you want to lay down in a field or plough it. And Harry Potter has a scar just like
Edward's scar. Except Edward's scar is just above his pee–"
"Bella, I don't–"
"–inky toe." Carlisle breathed a sigh of relief, glad she didn't seem aware of the other
scar.
"And they both wear glasses, even if Edward only needs his for reading. I don't care
what people say, geek is chic. And the way his hair frames his face, the way it feels when I
run my fingers through it and he makes that purring noise that makes me want to pounce on
him like a cat…"
As Bella continued to regale them of all the small things that she loved about
Edward, the two men shared a look. They were sorry they asked.

Leaning against the doorway to the living room, Carlisle observed his son in quiet
amusement. He was watching Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone with rapt attention.
After talking with Bella earlier that evening, he could better understand his son's
hesitance in speaking about the break-up. Carlisle couldn't push him to talk, he just needed
to be there for him. On a whim, he entered the room and sat down next to the young boy.
Edward didn't ask him to leave, so Carlisle took this as a sign that he was allowed to stay.
Neither of them spoke for quite some time, just watched the movie in silence.
"Harry, do you know why Professor Quirrell couldn't bear to have you touch him? It was because of
your mother. She sacrificed herself for you and that kind of act leaves a mark. This kind of mark can not be
seen. It lives in your very skin."
"What is it?"
"Love, Harry. Love."
Edward groaned. "I don't get it. What is so great about this?"
"I hear the character has green eyes," Carlisle said under his breath.
"It's a complete knock off of Lord of the Rings except with uninteresting characters
and a boring plot. Who would read this?"
Carlisle smiled. His son had spoken to him; it was a miracle. "I have."
"You have?"
"Yep, and I quite enjoyed the series as well. It has a few interesting themes running
through it – loyalty, friendship, bravery. I have to admit, though, my favorite would have to
be love. The author explores the love a parent feels for their child quite thoroughly."
Edward didn't respond to that, only slumped back onto the couch and pretended to
continue watching the movie. Carlisle, however, was determined to make his son understand
the significance of JK Rowling's message. "It's an interesting feeling – unconditional love.
And something I think can only be found once you look into the eyes of your child for the
first time."
"That's not true," Edward said defensively. "I feel that for Bella."
"Do you now? Unconditional love?" Carlisle asked. "Because I heard a little rumor that
you didn't like that Bella enjoyed Harry Potter so much. Is that a condition for you? That she

  433  
only likes the things that you enjoy?" Edward opened his mouth to respond but didn't find
an excuse to counter his father's statement. "With your child, however, they could trash their
bedroom, ignore you for days, get called to the principal's office, tell you to fuck off," Carlisle
added for good measure, "and you still love them. You don't love them any less than you did
the day before. As a matter of fact, you may find that you love them more regardless of all
those things, because they need it more. That kind of love, Edward, is unconditional."
Edward didn't speak for several minutes as he thought about what his father had
explained to him. "I made a mistake," he said, standing to leave the room.
"Where are you going?"
"To fix it. I need to make a phone call."
"Uh, Bella may not be up for a call this late at night," Carlisle said after a moment's
hesitation. For obvious reasons, tonight was not the night for Edward to try and fix his
broken relationship, but HIPAA prevented the doctor from divulging any information about
Bella's recent trip to the hospital except to immediate family. Edward wasn't that yet.
"Dad, Bella dumped a root beer float on my head today. It's going to take a lot more
than a phone call to fix this mess. I'm calling Angela."
Carlisle knew that look on Edward's face – he had something big up his sleeve. "Is
there anything I can do to help? A trip to the flower store, perhaps?"
For the first time in days a small smile flitted across Edward's lips. "I appreciate the
offer but I got it from here. Everything's going to be all right. I promise."
Carlisle nodded in understanding, a sweet sort of contentment settling over him. He
had kept his silent vow to Esme and done everything in his power to help Edward. Now it
was his son's turn to keep his promises.
"And Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you."

Edward and Bella sat in a large white room that housed a piano. He was attempting
to play her a song on the instrument but was hindered by Bella's refusal to let go of his left
hand. Annoyed by the disjointed noises interrupting his work, Carlisle had left his office to
seek out the source.
His wife was hidden in the hallway sneaking glances at the love-struck teens. "They
are cute together, aren't they?" Esme whispered over the disorderly notes flowing from the
piano.
The moment was made more perfect when, without a word, Bella slipped a necklace
out of her hoodie front pocket and placed it in Edward's palm. Carlisle didn't need to see the
trinket to know that a beautiful glass ornament hung from the silver chain. Bella's Evenstar,
her heart, belonged only to his son.
Edward had gotten the gleam back in his eye. All was right with the world.
Dr. Carlisle Cullen was very lucky, indeed.

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 Outtake: An Anthology of Teenage Angst: Part 2

In Chapter 22: The First Time She Made a Frenemy, Bella’s pet mouse dies and she desperately
needs her father, who is on an overnight outing with the Forks High baseball team in Seattle. I wrote the
phone call that takes place between them from both Charlie and Bella’s perspectives to help me with the
dialogue.

Coach Swan was going bonkers. He didn't often use that word – it was the term
Renee had used to describe herself right before she left him – but he felt it was the only one
that aptly expressed what he was feeling.
He was currently sitting on a bus surrounded by sixteen of the noisiest, most
obnoxious teenage boys on their way to play their last game in a two-day baseball
tournament. Well, "play" was putting it generously. "Lose" was the more accurate portrayal
of their run so far.
Despite his daughter's reassurances that he was doing an amazing job, Coach Swan
couldn't help feeling like a big, fat failure. He didn't blame the kids; he blamed himself.
Shouldn't a good coach be able to rally a team to one victory? he thought as he checked over his
starting line-up. At the very least, he should have been able to teach them to hit a ball.
A roar from the back of the rickety bus jerked Coach Swan's attention from the
roster to Mike Newton running up the aisle, slapping the back of his teammates' heads in
some bizarre ritual that Coach Swan could not for the life of him understand.
"Newton, get in your seat and stay there!" he barked. The last thing Coach Swan
needed was an injured player. The boys were certainly testing his patience this weekend. He'd
forgotten how insufferable young boys could be.
Thank goodness there was at least one polite, well-behaved boy on the bus –
Edward. He took special care not to treat Edward too differently from the other boys on the
team, though Edward was his favorite player (despite his inability to actually hit a baseball).
Edward would never dream of running down the aisles of a large moving vehicle… or so
Coach Swan had thought.
"Coach Swan!" Edward called, barreling down the gangway.
"What the hell are you–?"
"It's Bella!" Edward stuck one of those newfangled, portable phone devices in Coach
Swan's face. "There's something wrong and she won't talk to me. She's hysterical!"
He noticed Edward was also a bit hysterical. "Give me that." Coach Swan grasped
the phone and held it to his ear. "Bella, are you there?"
Edward slid on his knees into the empty seat in front of Coach Swan, peeking over
the top in agitation.
"Hi. It's me," Bella answered in a meek voice.
Coach Swan cursed himself for not following his gut and forcing Bella to stay with
the Cullens. She had just been so damned determined! "Is everything okay? Edward said you
were panicked."
"I'm sorry." And she truly sounded it, worrying Coach Swan further.
"Don't be sorry. Just tell me what's going on."
A wailing noise Bella hadn't made since the week she and Edward split up propelled
Coach Swan's mind into a million disastrous scenarios: Bella tripping down the stairs,
shattering her spine, paralyzed forever; a burglar murdering Angela in her sleep and holding

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Bella for ransom; a coven of vampires sweeping though Forks and capturing Bella (yes, his
mind did often wonder into the realm of the impossible. He was, after all, a Sci-Fi
enthusiast).
"You're scaring me. What happened?"
"My mouse died."
After Coach Swan processed that she wasn't in imminent danger, he let out a relieved
sigh and uttered a silent thanks that it wasn't something graver. He was on the verge of
berating his daughter for scaring him when she let out a positively distraught, "Daddy?"
"I'm so sorry, Bella," he said, mentally kicking himself for even considering rebuking
her.
Edward leaned forward, snapping his fingers in front of the coach's downturned face
and then pointing at himself. "I know how much you love that mouse," Coach Swan added
for the boy's sake. Edward placed his hand on his heart, making his own exaggerated sighing
motion.
Bella sniffled, "I wish you were here. I don't know what to do." Words could not
express the emotions that surged through him at her confession. Bella finding the love of
her life at such a young age was the unluckiest thing to happen to him since Renee leaving. It
was incredible to him that even with Edward in the picture, his daughter still needed him.
"When we get home, I'll help you bury Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the backyard,"
Coach Swan said in the most sympathetic and reassuring voice he could muster, hoping to
capitalize on this situation so Bella might consider coming to him with more of her
problems. He told her he would be home in six or seven hours, but she didn't want to wait
that long.
Coach Swan's heart dropped. "Well, I suppose we could skip this game and head
back early…" he said unsurely. Moments like this were when his inexperience as a father
kicked him in the ass. Did a good father disappoint the entire baseball team by turning the
bus around and heading back early? It was only a mouse after all.
Edward waved his hands to catch the coach's attention and nodded in agreement to
this course of action.
"No, don't do that," Bella said, and Coach Swan let out his second sigh of relief for
the day. "Let Edward play. I'll take care of it."
Edward was now furiously pointing at his chest and mouthing, "I want to be there. I
want to be there," repeatedly. Coach Swan stifled an amused grin. "I have a feeling Edward
might want to be there."
"Edward doesn't like mice," Bella pointed out.
Edward waved his hand again and quietly demanded, "Tell her I love her!"
"But he does LIKE you," Coach Swan said, with a wink at the boy.
Huffing in irritation, Edward turned around and all but the top of his unruly hair
disappeared behind the seat barrier.
"I'll be fine. I'm not alone." Coach Swan did feel better knowing Angela was there.
"Where's the shovel?"
He gave her some basic instructions for how to bury Miss Elizabeth Bennet and
even made her laugh a little with a well-timed joke. As their conversation ended, he felt
hopeful that he'd done a good job helping his daughter in a time of need.
"Edward, stop pouting and show me how to hang this thing up," Coach Swan called
over the seat.
Edward's head grudgingly popped up. "You know I more than 'like' Bella," he said,
flipping the phone shut.

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 "Yes, and I reckon she feels the same."
The boy nodded, "She does, but she wouldn't talk to me..." he drifted off, crestfallen.
Coach Swan smiled and went back to working on the starting line up. "Sometimes a
girl just needs her daddy."

Later that night Coach Swan walked into his living room to find Edward sitting
stiffly on the couch while Bella rested her head on his shoulder. She'd been crying on and off
since they'd gotten home from the tournament.
Coach Swan suppressed a chuckle as Bella attempted to snuggle closer and Edward
became even more rigid. The poor boy had never been particularly comfortable with displays
of affection in Coach Swan's living room and for good reason. He glanced around in
paranoia and spotted Coach Swan observing them.
"I'm sorry," he mouthed over Bella's head, raising his hands to show they weren't
anywhere inappropriate.
The Police Chief in Coach Swan brought his middle and index fingers to his eyes,
then pointed them at Edward in an, "I'm watching you, Cullen," gesture. When Edward
sufficiently looked petrified, Coach Swan turned to the kitchen to order them a pizza.
"Dad," Bella called, "will you come sit with us?"
"Maybe a little later. I'm gonna get us some dinner." Bella's lip quivered and he
immediately added, "But that can wait if you really want."
She nodded and Coach Swan walked over, uncomfortably taking a seat next to Bella.
Coach Swan had never felt more awkward in his life, holding the hand of his daughter as she
cuddled with her boyfriend. He glanced over at Edward, who was pointedly focusing on a
picture above the blank T.V.
Smiling, Coach Swan lifted his daughter's hand and placed a gentle kiss on it. She
could have done worse finding her soul mate at age twelve – a polite, well-behaved boy he'd
always consider a son.

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 Deleted Scene: Sweatshirts and Their Various Uses

This is a scene from Chapter 26: The First Time Sex-Ed Was About Sex that, according to my
original author's note, was "physically painful for me to remove."

Mrs. Dixon passed out index cards to the class and held up a fish bowl. We had two
minutes to write any questions we didn't want to ask out loud on the cards and place them in
the bowl. Mrs. Dixon would then take the rest of the afternoon to anonymously read and
answer them.
I took out a scratch piece of paper and practiced distorting my handwriting so she
wouldn't be able to tell which was mine. When I decided it was indistinguishable enough, I
scratched out the words, "Why do boys get hard when it rains?" on my index card.
It was a question I'd been pondering for quite some time. In freshman year, I had
noticed Edward carried a sweatshirt with him wherever he went. A sweatshirt he never wore.
I'd asked him about it, but he'd only responded it was nice to have, "just in case." Something
about his answer had felt off.
After weeks of observing his peculiar behavior, I had finally figured out the truth.
Edward carried that sweatshirt so he could put it in his lap, "just in case" he got turned on in
the middle of class.
It was during one of our make-out sessions, having felt it through his jeans for
twenty minutes, that I'd gathered enough courage and confidence to ask, "Why does your
thing get hard so often?"
Edward had pulled away immediately and scampered to the other side of the couch.
"W-what – what do you mean?" he'd bumbled out.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you," I'd said, fiddling with the cuff of my long-
sleeved shirt. "I just noticed at school, you always cover it up when it's… you know, like,
hard. Isn't it kind of weird that it happens in the middle of the day?"
"Not at all," Edward had said. "It's perfectly normal."
"Oh, it is?" Then, something had dawned on me. "You must think about sex a lot."
"Of course, I don't," he'd said indignantly. "It's the weather. For some reason, the
rain, the moisture in the air, it causes penile erection."
I'd wanted to ask why that was, but it was clear he hadn't wanted to talk about it
anymore. Since then, I'd always wondered how that worked.
The fish bowl made its way around the room and collected the questions. Edward
had stubbornly refused to so much as touch his index card after the earlier worksheet
incident. He was still stewing, even after I had spent most of lunch trying to talk him down.
At least we got to sit together for the rest of the class.
Mrs. Dixon checked that she'd gathered all the questions before mixing them up in
the bowl and selecting one at random. "Can I get pregnant from a toilet seat?" she read.
Giggles and whispers rocketed through the room. "No, for a couple of reasons. Sperm
cannot survive very long outside of the body. It needs a warm, hospitable environment, and
even then the vagina or vulva would need to come into direct contact with it. When a female
uses the restroom, she positions her vagina over the hole to urinate, not onto the seat."
It astonished me that she could speak like that publicly without feeling embarrassed
or self-conscious, especially with the majority of the class acting like seven-year-olds saying
dirty words for the first time.

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 A barrage of questions followed that she answered with equal nerve: What happens
if a boy takes birth control? What is the average size of a penis? How long does sex last? Can
boys run out of sperm? If you jack off too much, can your penis fall off? To her credit, Mrs.
Dixon didn't laugh at one question. There were a few she lifted an eyebrow to, however,
before silently slipping them into her desk.
After the first twenty, the questions and answers started bleeding into each other. It
was a while before one caught my particular attention. "My girlfriend is pressuring me to
take our relationship further, but her father scares the crap out of me. Suggestions?"
Edward sat up straighter. The nerve of him! I couldn't believe he had put something
so obviously related to us in that bowl. Only, when Mrs. Dixon started talking about
communication, he didn't focus on her. Instead, he searched the faces of our fellow
classmates. I followed his gaze and almost laughed when I saw Angela glaring at Ben.
I snatched the unused index card off Edward's desk and wrote, "I know what you're
thinking and it's not the same. Her father's a pastor. Ben's afraid of going to Hell."
He read the note, then mouthed, "We'll talk later."
"Why do boys get hard when it rains?" Mrs. Dixon rang out. It was comical how
quickly Edward's complexion drained of color. "The weather has no effect on a male's ability
to get an erection." Edward ducked his head and heavily kneaded his temple with his right
hand. "An erection happens because blood rushes to the penis. Many things, or actually,
anything can trigger this, particularly in teenage males." His head slumped to the desk, and
he buried it in his hoodie. "Hypothetically speaking, the rain could create arousal in a male,
but it would be specific to him, not the entire gender."
So what did that make Edward? Was there a word for someone who got turned on
by rain?
"I do not get turned on by rain!" Edward yelled, when I asked him on our drive
home from school. "I get turned on by you. I was just too embarrassed to admit that back in
ninth grade."
"So you decided to lie and confuse me instead?"
"No. Yes. I don't know. I thought you'd forget. I can't believe you remembered."
"I can't believe you thought I could forget."  

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 Outtake: The First Time He Met Her

All faces looked the same.

I would know. As Yearbook photographer, I was practically a professional. Class
hadn’t started yet, but I was already sorting through yesterday’s batch of pictures
documenting the lives of the students at Forks Middle School. The girls, faces hidden under
too many cosmetics, either posed with their friends or pretended they didn’t want their
picture taken. The boys made even less sense. What was charming about being rowdy and
disgusting in front of a camera? Why wasn’t it cool to simply smile?
Rosalie Hale’s face floated across my screen and I paused to look at it, wondering
what it was about her that threw most of the male eighth grade population into a tizzy. My
gaze shifted to find her above the computers and almost immediately darted back to my
screen. I much preferred to look at her, and all people, through the lens of a camera.
My father said it was because I had social anxiety. He was a doctor, so perhaps he
was correct, but he also didn’t have all the facts. He didn’t know how I felt about these
people. I stopped my thoughts in their tracks and chided myself. It had occurred to me a few
weeks ago that my social isolation was turning me into a snob. I was no better than any
other person on this planet. Just like Aragorn was no better than Frodo… even though
Aragorn was the one who paved the way for Frodo’s success, and Frodo was briefly taken by
the ring in the end, when Aragorn never gave in to its power.
Now, there was a happy thought. A new Fellowship of the Ring trailer was rumored to
come out at the end of the month. I couldn’t wait, even if it meant having to pay for a silly
movie to view it before it was uploaded to the LotR fan sites. Picture by picture slid by on
my computer screen, and I wondered if any of these people were secret Ringers. My dad was
my best friend, but in the quietest, darkest parts of my mind, I didn’t mind admitting that it
would be nice to have someone else to go with.
Our teacher arrived and started calling roll, an unnecessary formality. This was a
woman who had watched each and every one of them grow from diapers to adolescence…
who had invited them to all of my LotR-themed birthday parties… who had listened to me
cry when, for whatever reason, they no longer invited me to theirs. I smiled a little. As long
as I had my mom here and my dad at home, I didn’t need anyone else.
The next day, I came into class a little early and began sorting the previous day’s
photos. I did it again the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that. Then
I’d upload the good ones to the server like a good photographer, so no one would have any
reason to ask me where they were. And no one did. No one ever talked to me, until one
day…
“Hello,” a quiet voice said from right next to me.
I ignored it. Last week, I had made the mistake of thinking a seventh grader was
waving me over to her table. I was halfway to there before I realized she was actually waving
to a friend who was walking right behind me. I had instantly changed direction and headed
to the Yearbook room. I’d been eating lunch with Mom in here ever since.
A throat cleared, followed by a more forceful, “Hello.”
I looked up. The first thing I saw was a bright light, before a face came into focus,
one that I had never seen before. Spots marred my vision as my eyes adjusted. I blinked
them away, trying to take in this person – this girl – in front of me.

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 She was an interesting kind of pretty. The part in her hair was crooked. Her thin
fingers clung to the straps of her backpack. No make-up tainted her features.
She wore a t-shirt.
T-shirts were my downfall.
I had the impulse to snap her picture, but a lens would only distort her visage – the
greatest injustice of our time. Such beauty could never, never be captured. No. I had to
remember this moment, imprint it to my brain. What was said. How I felt. The way she
looked. This was the moment I’d be speaking about for years to come… when people asked
me how I met my wife.

The room was buzzing, warm and crowded, filled to the brim with nervous
excitement and unbridled hope for a bright future and dreams fulfilled. Dorothy Books was
the first person in her family to go to college, let alone Ivy League. To everyone back home,
she was something special, but the group surrounding her refused to let her bask in her own
achievement.
“Are you Isabella Swan?” asked a brave soul somewhere to her left. Dorothy resisted
the impulse to look up at the messy brown bun sitting directly in front of her, but couldn’t
keep herself from listening for the confirmation.
Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen, the boy sitting beside her, were on the short list of
new students to look out for in Dartmouth’s Class of 2010, and of course, second to the
curiosity over their very young success was the gossip they were starting Dartmouth as a
couple. Would they leave as one? It all seemed a little silly to Dorothy.
Isabella sighed. “I actually prefer Bella. Just Bella.”
“So, that would make you Edward Cullen?” Questions McQuestionsen asked. At
Edward’s nod, he gave a little leap. “I knew I recognized you from that TIME piece. I’m
Jeff.”
“Nice to meet you, Jeff,” Edward said, shaking his hand.
Several students in the rows in front of Edward and Bella turned around and started
introducing themselves. Disgusted with herself, Dorothy stopped pretending to be absorbed
in the orientation packet and instead watched the scene unfold. It was pretty pathetic,
freshman already kissing other freshmen’s butts because they’d had a bit of luck as teens. To
Edward and Bella’s credit, it didn’t look like they were enjoying the attention.
It wasn’t long before they had to start fielding questions.
“How did you get the idea for your website?”
“It was just something I thought of when I was a kid…”
“How did you turn it into such a profitable enterprise?”
“A lot of the business stuff had to do with my grandma…”
Edward couldn’t keep up. He tried to ask Jeff a question about his hometown, but
three other people bombarded him with questions about Forks. What a silly name for a town,
Dorothy thought.
Given their seating arrangements, Dorothy had an unhindered view of Edward and
Bella’s clasped hands. Every once in a while, when Edward would run his thumb along the
skin of Bella’s hand, Dorothy could just make out something round on his left ring finger. A
minute later, when the conversation turned from their business to their relationship,
Dorothy found out it wasn’t a wedding ring, but an engagement ring. She couldn’t help but
be impressed that Edward was the kind of man secure enough in himself to wear an

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engagement ring. When every other girl in the class swooned over the same thing, Dorothy
wanted to punch herself.
“How did you guys meet?”
Only at this did Edward and Bella look at each other, all gooey-eyed and shy.
Bella ducked her head and said, “It was nothing special. We were just in the same
class in middle school.”
“Oh, come on. There’s a story there. I can tell,” Nosey McNoserson pressed.
“It was a Yearbook class,” Bella offered.
“What was the first thing you said to each other?” another girl asked.
“Yeah. Give us allllll the details,” Jeff, the original questionator, said in the exact
same snarky voice running rampant inside Dorothy’s head. She couldn’t stand romantic
comedies – not in movies and especially not in real life.
“Really. We can’t even remember the first thing we said to each other,” Edward said.
“Possibly, I said hello,” Bella said. “Possibly.”
“I wish I’d transcribed the whole thing as it was happening,” Edward said, giving her
a syrupy look. “I wish I could recall the first thing I said to the woman I’m going to spend
the rest of my life loving.”
There was a soft, “Awwww…” from some of the girls in the room, and a sarcastic,
“Awwww…” from one of the dudes. Dorothy snorted.
Newsflash: They were not that cute.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked. I had to be absolutely sure before another
cafeteria-like scene unfolded and before I fell madly in love with this beautiful, Elven-like
girl for the rest of my life.
There was no mistaking this girl’s, “May I sit next to you?"
I nodded. I stared. I exploded on the inside. She was speaking to me! And of all the
people in the class, it was me she wanted to sit next to! I quite literally could not take my
eyes off this alluring, charming, graceful creature as she sat down and started up the
computer. She was so close, I could smell her. There was a hint of strawberries in her
decadent aroma. She was intoxicating, exhilarating. She was… looking at me.
Those brown eyes held more soul than a Ray Charles song. Those were the kind of
eyes I would never forget. I’d see them every night in my dreams. I needed something for
her to remember me by, something that none of the other boys in school would give her. I
reached down and checked my pockets.
I had just the thing.

“I do remember that at one point, I gave her a business card.”

“Whose business card?” Nosey asked.
“My business card.”
“You had a business card?”
“I kid you not.”
“And you were how old?”
Bella laughed. “I’m pretty positive that’s exactly what I said at the time. And I
remember his response to a T.” Suddenly, a very different voice came out of Bella, lower and
very quiet. “ ‘My name is Edward Cullen, I'm thirteen years old. My home phone, beeper,

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and fax number are all on that card.’ You have to understand, that’s how he introduced
himself to everyone when he was in middle school.”
“It’s not as if I talked to that many people back then. I was shy,” Edward said. “And
it turned out to be a very smooth move because then I was able to, under the guise of
professionalism, shake her hand.”

It was better than eating a vanilla sundae topped with a cherry. It was better than the
satisfaction of playing a particularly difficult piece of music perfectly. It was better than
reading The Lord of the Rings while snuggled by the warmth of a fire. It seemed to last forever,
and yet it ended too soon. There was a feeling of deep loss when her hand left mine.
Where did we go from here? I knew what I wanted, but would she want to start
courtship immediately?
She opened her mouth. "You aren't gay, are you?"
My eyes bugged out of my head and I turned back to the computer as quickly as
possible.

“I defend younger Bella’s actions!” Bella exclaimed, though her cheeks flushed.
“Some backstory is necessary. When I was in elementary school, I had a crush on this boy
who was definitely… ya know. There is nothing wrong with checking before you get your
hopes up is all I’m saying.”
Dorothy nodded in agreement. She was from San Francisco.
“There are more tactful ways of doing it, my dear,” Edward said.
“I was in middle school! If I was on the dating market now, I’d keep that in mind.”
“I’m not gay,” Jeff said. Dorothy could practically see Edward’s glare through the
back of his head. “Uh… just kidding, dude.”
“Anyway,” Nosey said, also shooting Jeff a glare. “What happened next? How did
you respond?”
“If I remember correctly, I didn’t say anything at first. I– ”
“You remember correctly,” Bella interrupted. “Longest ten minutes of my life.”
“I was devising a plan,” Edward said firmly. “When Bella wasn’t looking, I sent our
teacher a message, asking her to help me out. Side note, our teacher was my Mom.”
“What do you mean you sent her a message?” Bella asked. “You never told me that.”
“Yeah, well, this part is a little embarrassing.”

Bella just asked if I was gay. I was going to need as much help as I could get, which
meant… I needed my mom. She was at the front of the class talking with Bella, only seconds
away from assigning her a Yearbook position. If only there was a quick, easy, and discreet
way to send her a message that she would instantly receive!
I had to take a risk. Bella’s head was turned toward her, not me, so I waved my
hands insanely to catch my Mom’s attention. She raised her eyebrows only slightly, enough
for me to know she was paying attention. I pointed at myself, then formed both my hands
into a heart, and then pointed at Bella. I did that five times, until I was sure the smile tugging
at my mother’s mouth meant she knew what I was saying.

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 That was confirmed a few minutes later, when Bella came back to our desk and said,
"Ms. Evans told me that I'd be working with you as your assistant photographer."
I nodded slyly, ready to activate Phase Two. I wasn’t a great conversationalist, which
the last twenty minutes had proven in spades, but there was one place where I could win
over any lady’s affection: the computer. My heart was pounding a million miles a minute as I
typed in the perfect first message to her.

COMP520072: This is Edward Cullen to Bella Swan.

I kept my eyes on the screen as I awaited her response.

COMP520073: BS to EC. How do I no this is rly Edward?

Her spelling was atrocious. Well, nobody was perfect. She was still the sweetest, most
enchanting girl I’d ever laid eyes on.
COMP520072: Because the ID on this computer is the number right before yours.
COMP520073: Oh.
COMP520072: I would like to answer your question now.
COMP520073: Wat question?
COMP520072: You asked if I was gay.

“As you have witnessed, she still blushes about the incident to this day, so you can
imagine what she was like when I brought it up – red all over. I worked up the nerve to type,
‘You look really pretty when you blush like that.’ Then, just for effect, I added, ‘And no, I
am not gay.’ ” Dorothy could hear the smirk. “And that’s the story of how we first met.
Nothing too special. Just us.”
Dorothy kept her eyes narrowed on the back of Edward and Bella, as he raised her
hand to his lips and kissed it.
Middle schoolers flirting over instant message?
Damn it. They were that cute.

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