Chapter One
Hi, friends!
Yes, I've started another new story while I already have two others going – and for those of you worried about "Not to Pass On" and "Everything's on Fire," I have drafts of the next chapters for both, and they'll be up soon, I promise.
For now, just know that this is an AH story, and that I'm super excited about it. I don't know if any of you recognize it from the version posted over at Twilighted, but if you do, please realize that this is nothing like that god-awful mess. It's been completely overhauled, much for the better
So I hope you enjoy!
"And I've emailed your teachers, and they've agreed to waive your summer assignment due dates until the end of the quarter," Tony's new foster mother finished, smiling at him.
Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat. What the hell was he doing here, he wondered, in this house, with these people? This wasn't his world. He didn't want to be here, and he was sure that they all knew it.
"Esme," he started. Even though he didn't have to give a damn, he really didn't want to hurt her feelings. Esme didn't have to do this for him, after all, he knew that. She shouldn't have done all this for him. She'd realize that soon enough – all his other foster parents had. "I shouldn't be in AP classes."
At once, her pretty face got all shocked. "Of course you do! I've seen your grades, Edward. You can handle it, I know you can!"
Where did she get off on thinking that? Tony wondered. He'd only ever studied because it bought him time off the street. And at his old high school in Tucson, overcrowding and underfunding meant it didn't matter what your grades were; the teachers cared more about keeping order and making sure that there weren't too many reasons to call the sheriff. And those students who wore their gang colors proudly, as Tony himself did, only got attention when they were being accused of terrorizing some rich kid.
Esme was still watching him, waiting for an answer. "I just…" Tony started, "I'm not right for those classes, is all. And could you call me Tony?" He had always gone by the middle name. Not Edward, and sure as shit not Junior. For some reason his mother – who'd been a sixteen-year-old druggie when he was born – had decided to name him after a father he'd never met. The way Tony saw it, the man had never wanted anything to do with him, so why should Tony have to be connected to him?
Esme picked up Tony's transcript from the shiny wood coffee table and studied it. "Tell you what," she said, suddenly businesslike. "You stick it out for a semester. If it doesn't work out, you can quit, but not until you try it. Okay?"
He kept his snort to himself. He was pretty sure that he'd be gone by the end of the month. Esme Cullen and her husband The Doctor wouldn't want to keep him. He only had a year until he turned eighteen, anyway.
"And I won't call you Tony," she added, frowning. It looked so out of place on her face. "Your name is beautiful, and besides, it's what's on your documents. Anyway, I can't stand West Side Story."
"What?"
She watched him for a second, like she was trying to decide whether or not he was messing with her, but he honestly had no idea what she was talking about. "Never mind. But we do need to keep a degree of uniformity, at least until the trial time period for your foster placement here ends. Is that okay?"
It wasn't worth the effort, so Tony just shrugged. He wouldn't be here long enough for it to matter.
Esme glanced at the clock, and then over her shoulder into the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. Can you go tell the others for me, please?" Without waiting for an answer, she patted Tony's hand and stood.
"Sure," he muttered, even though there was no one left to hear. He got up and stared out through the huge windows that overlooked the perfectly landscaped backyard, watching the sky get steadily darker. Then he stretched his arms out and went down the hallway to the 'game room.' It was so fucking stupid how big the Cullens' house was.
He heard laughter as he put his head through the doorway. "Hey," he said, and it got quiet real fast as the people in there looked up at him. Emmett, Tony's new foster brother, was playing pool with his girlfriend Rosalie. All of a sudden, Tony was really aware of the holes in his jeans. "Uh, Esme says dinner'll be ready in twenty minutes."
"Cool. Hey, do you wanna play winner?" Emmett said, holding out his pool cue, and Rosalie stood up straight and looked between the two of them. Tony couldn't tell whether they actually wanted to hang out with him, or were just trying to make Esme happy. But he was pretty sure it was the second.
"No. I'm good." He had already backed out of the room.
Rosalie shrugged. "Suit yourself."
But Emmett looked really disappointed, and Tony wondered why he cared. They weren't anything to each other, after all. Tony liked Emmett and all, but still.
Even after three days of being in this house, Tony wasn't used to having his own room; he'd had one only once before and he almost never slept in it. As he shut the door behind him and fell back on the bed, he thought about Esme. It would be easy to think that she was naïve if Tony didn't know what he did. As she and her husband Dr. Cullen (it was still hard for Tony to call him Carlisle, even though he'd asked, twice) had driven him from Saguaro House, the group foster home run by the Arizona State Child Protective Services, Esme'd told Tony she couldn't have kids. Two years ago, they'd brought Emmett to stay with them when he was fourteen, even though he was on drugs and had a habit of getting wasted. Barely a year after coming to live with them, he'd been completely sober.
Maybe that was what made them so sure that it would work out with Tony, he thought. But there was a difference between Emmett and Tony: Emmett wanted to be saved. Tony didn't need saving. He was fine. He could take care of himself. He'd just keep his head down until he turned eighteen, and then he'd be gone. Maybe the Cullens would keep him until then. Maybe not. In any case, this was temporary, and there wasn't really any point in pretending otherwise.
Tony stood, stretched, grabbed some clothes out of his duffel bag – he still hadn't even bothered to unpack – and headed into the bathroom he shared with Emmett to shower. As he pulled his shirt over his head, he caught sight of the shiny scar that crossed his back from his right shoulder to his left hip. He knew without looking for them that there were several others, all over his torso, as well as a couple of tattoos that didn't matter anymore. But the scars had done their job, he thought grimly, reaching into the shower and turning on the water.
Guys like Tony – wards of the state, foster kids – they couldn't rely on a family for their protection, not in the world they lived in. So we had to find it somewhere else. One of the most powerful Aryan gangs in Tucson, Anam Gi, had started recruiting Tony when he hit sixth grade. He was jumped in when he was thirteen. And for a while, it had been okay. For a couple of years he was still too young or too new to really be trusted with any responsibilities, but eventually he had to pay his dues.
At first it was just intimidating guys who didn't pay Vincent, the head of AG, for their crack. But once he got his license, they expected him to make deliveries. He didn't care. It guaranteed him protection, and he didn't mess with the shit himself. He'd seen too many guys get shot while they were wasted because they didn't know what was happening. But he did what he was told, he was left alone, Vincent got his money, the junkies got their drugs. Everyone was happy.
Only then there'd been the drug bust. The cops had come down on the gang in the warehouse where they hung out, and Vincent, most of his friends, and anyone else who hadn't been able to run fast enough got caught. And since Tony mostly kept to himself, since he didn't do the shit himself, he'd been blamed as the narc.
The water from the shower head splashed against Tony's body, little streams running over his scars, and he thought back to that night they'd jumped him again, this time for revenge. They would have killed him, he was sure, if that cop hadn't been out on patrol and driven past the alley.
But the incident had been too much for Tony's foster mom of the moment, and she'd kicked him out. Which was how he'd wound up at Saguaro House in Phoenix, and from there in the Cullens' house.
He watched the soapsuds swirl down the drain. Even though it hadn't been finished, it seemed like Anam Gi had decided to accept his beating as a jumping-out. After all, he reasoned, they'd had two weeks to come find him at the hospital, another one to visit the Saguaro House, and three more days to come after him here. He probably wasn't worth the effort, now that they had to lie low for a while and they didn't have a leader.
Tony wasn't complaining. When he turned eighteen, he'd be on his own, and he couldn't wait. He didn't need the AG, just like he didn't need the Cullens' charity. He didn't need anyone.
He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off before wrapping the towel around his waist. With his wrist, Tony cleared some of the steam from the window so he could see his face. Green eyes stared back at him from under a shock of copper hair. The reflection of his pale, half-naked body unnerved him.
He shook his head, reached for a T-shirt and pulled it over his head. He didn't need anyone. Not their help, and not their protection. If they could just see that now, everything would be so much easier.
The pilot flashed the 'fasten your seat belts' sign, and Bella felt the nose of the plane dip down as they flew in towards LAX. In the seat next to her, her mother, Renee, ignored the sign, still focused on her laptop. Bella didn't bother to tell her to buckle up. Renee wouldn't do it unless a hot male flight attendant came up to her and asked her nicely. While she looked a lot like an older version of Bella – there were liberal streaks of gray in her brown hair and a fine skein of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, despite her best efforts with makeup – Bella had long since gotten used to her adolescent, indifferent attitude towards… everything.
To distract herself, Bella made a to-do list in her head. As soon as they got home, she had to make sure that everything was in order for leadership orientation, which started in two days. And then, she had to do a final proof on her summer assignments, and then she had to make sure she had everything she needed for the first day of school, both for herself and also for the junior class, of which she was president. And somewhere in there she had to find time for her two best friends and her boyfriend Chris, none of whom she had seen for two weeks.
The sensation of being overwhelmed began to creep over her, and she shook it off. She could do this – she had been for years now.
The plane taxied down the runway without incident, and Renee sighed happily as they deplaned. "You know, sugar," she said to her daughter as they gathered up their carry-on bags, "I love my sister, I really do, but she just doesn't understand me. Or you, either."
Ugh. Bella hated to be called 'sugar,' as she told her mother more than once. But she chose to ignore it now, instead considering her answer to Renee's complaint carefully.
Bella's Aunt Maggie was almost ten years older than Renee, and was always scolding her for being irresponsible. First, it had been for taking off from Michigan right after high school to move to Phoenix and become an actress. Then it was getting married at the age of twenty and producing Bella a year later. Then, when she finally did decide to go back to school, it'd been her choice to train to be 'a kindergarten teacher, of all things.' No part of this constant strain of criticism served to endear Maggie to her sister.
"I'm sure she just wants to see you happy," Bella replied eventually.
Renee snorted. "No, she doesn't. She wants the chance to say she told me so, then for me to come groveling to her, all dependent. But not me. I love my life, sugar. I love it."
That one, Bella chose not to answer at all.
At the baggage claim, Bella heard a squeal behind her and turned, smiling widely. Her best friend Alice was bouncing towards her. Alice had a habit of bouncing everywhere. She had dropped Bella and Renee off at the airport two weeks ago and was here to pick them up, so they wouldn't have to leave a car in long-term parking. She pulled Bella into one of her signature bear hugs before holding her at arm's length to inspect her, as if it'd been months rather than days since they'd seen each other.
Alice always been the prettier of them, Bella reflected. Her layered black hair fell to her collarbone, framing her round face, where her bright blue eyes and slightly upturned nose stood out against a smattering of freckles. Hers were much lighter than the sunspots that streaked across Bella's own pale skin, so thick she looked almost tan (the effect wasn't flattering). Alice, however, was legitimately tan and enviously fit from her summer softball practice, and Bella only now realized how much she'd missed her blunt honesty over the past weeks. "Hey, babe."
"Hi," Bella smiled back, but couldn't stop herself from looking over Alice's shoulder. "Where's Jasper?"
Alice shrugged. "Basketball practice. With my dear brother. Jasper was super-stoked because Riley finally let him drive. But since softball ended early, I drew the short straw." She winked.
"You people make me feel really unathletic, you know that, right?" Bella raised her eyebrows.
Alice poked her in the side and Bella squealed. "Then can you explain to me why you're a size two and I'm not? And it's a healthy size two, not an anorexic size two."
Renee had pulled out her phone and was checking her text messages. "Sugar," she said, and both girls turned to her. "Phil just invited me to go out tonight. You gonna be okay getting dinner on your own?"
"Um. Yeah. Sure." Bella could almost feel Alice trying not to roll her eyes and say something sarcastic, and was glad when she restrained herself.
Bella turned to Alice again. "Did Chris come?" she asked hopefully.
"Um. No, he didn't." Alice avoided Bella's eyes as she turned to pull one of her bags from her hand.
Alice was a patented failure at evasion, but before Bella could ask her what was wrong, Renee turned and started walking towards the parking structure, not checking to see if the others were following.
Alice took Bella's arm to draw her to the car. "Was it like that the whole time?" she whispered.
"Pretty much, yeah," Bella replied, also in an undertone so Renee wouldn't hear. "You know how she and Maggie always piss each other off. I don't know why we have to go back there every summer."
Alice laughed. "Well, Maggie probably wants to see that you haven't died of neglect or anything yet."
"Thanks."
They got back to Alice's old, dilapitated Ford convertible (which Jasper had nicknamed the POS) and loaded the bags into the trunk. Renee took the front passenger's seat, forcing Bella to take the back. She could see Alice bite her tongue as she got into the driver's seat and bolted into the lane between the rows of parking spaces, ignoring the sign that posted the speed limit at ten miles per hour.
That gave Bella pause. "Are you okay, Alice? You're acting kind of uptight."
Alice glanced at her in the rearview mirror, but Bella couldn't see her eyes through her sunglasses. "I'm fine," she said after a moment.
"No, you're not."
She shrugged. "Fine, I'm not. But it can wait." She glanced at Renee, and then shook her head. Bella understood. Alice wouldn't discuss whatever it was in front of Bella's mother.
Bella sat back in her seat and stared out the window as Phoenix whizzed past. After half an hour of Alice ignoring just about everything they'd been taught in Driver's Ed, they turned on their street – Jasper and Bella lived next door to each other with Alice and her older brother Riley across the street. Bella got out and breathed in deeply, perversely savoring the smell of smog in the air. All you could smell in Maggie's small town was cow dung.
Renee handed Bella her bags before unlocking her own car. Alice shook her head incredulously as Bella led her inside so she could start the laundry.
Jasper and Riley got back about an hour later, and after they'd let themselves into Bella's house, Jasper wrapped his arms about Bella and was swinging her around. "Bella's home!"
She hugged him back, even if he did smell like he'd just gotten done with a two-hour sports practice. Only, breathing quickly became a problem. "Jasper… lungs… require… oxygen," she gasped dramatically, and he laughed as he set her down. Bella forgotten how tall he was – he had a whole foot on her.
Bella smiled as she hugged him again. And then she said quickly, so as to catch him off guard, "What's Alice not telling me?"
He opened his mouth in surprise and Bella thought he would have answered had Alice not sucker-punched him in the gut. Bella glared at her. "I told you later," Alice hissed at Jasper, storming off into the kitchen.
Riley laughed and then took his turn to hug Bella. "How was Michigan?"
Bella shook her head. "If I could never go back again, I'd be happy."
He ruffled her hair. "Listen, I gotta go. I need to do my summer homework. And don't say it, Bella. Just don't. Okay?"
"Riley. Really. Please put at least a little effort into it."
He grinned again, not promising anything, and left.
Jasper shook his head, smiling at Bella. She knew he was calling Riley a slacker in his head, but it was a little hypocritical. The most responsible thing Jasper had really ever done was get OnStar installed in his old beat-up truck, and that was just because his father had told he'd have to get rid of the truck without it.
Although Bella didn't forget Alice's tetchy behavior from earlier, she let it go for another few hours as Alice and Jasper peppered her with questions about Michigan and her boorish cousin Doug – who had somehow managed to get a girl to agree to marry him in the last year – and the pizza had been ordered. They chattered to her about the band of which they were all a part, too, and Jasper promised to show her a new song he was working on soon. But Bella didn't need to know them as well as she did to see that they were nervous. Finally, she folded her arms across her chest and glared between them.
"Okay, spill."
The other two glanced at each other, and Jasper looked as if he would very much like to deflect Bella's attention, but Alice put up her hands to stop him.
"Bella…" she started slowly, and Bella felt that cold feeling you get when you know you're not going to like what's coming. She leaned back against the counter, waiting.
Alice took a deep breath. "The day you two left… that night, there was a party at Jenny Miller's. We went," she said, indicating herself and Jasper. "We saw…." She faltered, looking at Jasper for help. He sighed, and took over. Bella was grateful, because she knew he'd tell it straight, once he got going.
"Basically, Chris got drunk and made out with three different girls. He disappeared into a bedroom with one of them." Jasper said the words quietly, as if that would lessen their impact.
Bella's breath caught, and she quickly looked away from his eyes, from the pity there. Her gaze landed on the large stone fireplace. Incongruously, she wondered why they had a fireplace. It never got cold enough to light a fire.
"Bella?" Alice said her friend's name like she was unsure, like she was expecting a slap.
Without looking up, Bella told them, "The night before I left, he tried to get me to have sex with him. I… I've never even let him put his hands up my shirt, and he wanted me to sleep with him in the back of his car. I told him I wasn't ready, and I thought he understood." She raised her head, and her eyes shifted from one of them to the other. "He couldn't even wait twelve hours?"
Alice started forward as though she would hug Bella, but Jasper stopped her. Bella was glad. She didn't want anyone touching her just now.
"Did you love him?" Jasper asked, his voice low.
Bella met his eyes. "No. No, I didn't." Of this, she was absolutely sure.
He nodded once. "Okay."
And they didn't speak of it again that night. The pizza came, and they put on the only movie that the three of them could always agree on, Forrest Gump. When Bella's mother finally came home, from her God-knows-where, Bella was able to smile, and laugh, and hug her properly, and ignore the tequila on her breath. She knew Jasper was watching her all night, and was glad when ten o'clock finally came so she could tell them both that she'd had a long flight, that she was jet-lagged, that she needed to sleep.
She padded down the hall to her room and sat on the bed, and for a moment just looked around. The walls were the same color they'd been when her parents bought the house eighteen years ago, but now they were covered in posters of bands and bulletin boards and pictures of Bella and her friends. There was her computer and her printer on the old, worn-out desk that her dad said he'd used in high school, power cords winding over the side and ending in plugs that lined up neatly in her power strip. Short bookcases lined the walls, ending just below the chair rail. Her dresser on the adjacent wall, a window between it and the next corner, where a green bean bag chair sat. Jasper and Bella used to pretend that the bean bag was their pirate ship, but they'd outgrown the game before Alice and her family had moved in across the street.
Because it was a corner bedroom, the wall next to that had a window too, this one a long narrow one parallel to the ceiling. Her bed was under it, a night table next to it. On the night table sat the last photograph that had been taken of her and her dad: Bella's twelfth birthday party, almost a month before he died. She knew that if he'd still been here, he would've told her to never date Chris in the first place. She sighed and got up, collecting her toiletries.
Only then, once she had showered and slipped on her old pajamas and crawled into her own bed for the first time in two weeks, only then did she allow herself to cry. Because even though she had not loved him, he had still managed to hurt her.
It did hurt. Nobody had to know. But it did.
Hey, I just met you
And this is crazy
But here's a new story
So review for me maybe?
I know, I hate that song too. Just couldn't resist. Just so you know, Anam Gi is a Celtic phrase that means, roughly translated, "Faithful Soul." I saw them as being a division/subset/thing of the Irish Mafia.