TwiGirlsNextDoor School's Out For Summer contest
Pairing if Applicable: Bella, Charlie and various others
Title: The Summer After
Rated E for Everyone.
Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all rights to Twilight Characters – the rest is my imagination
Brief Summary: She got to give one important gift. Would it be enough to earn a reprieve? Would it be enough to fix an ache in her heart?
She sat in the plane, watching the rain and remembering what she could.
It had been a gloriously warm day, wonderful after the cool, wet weekend of camping in tents she had endured with the Girl Scouts. So cool and wet that the big hike that had been the point of the weekend was cancelled. No big surprise to her; she had decided to expect the worst in life. It was usually correct and that way it hurt so much less.
The sun shone so warmly that she stopped on the walk to school and put her sweater in her bag. She had just started to walk again when she spotted Emmett at the next corner. He looked like he was looking for someone and he waved her over as soon as she came into view.
"Hey Bella. You look so nice today."
"Hi Emmett. Don't you usually walk with Malcolm?"
"Yeah. It's hot already." His voice was thick and he'd looked past her.
"It's June. It should be."
That is where her memory froze. She knew what happened next, that he 'd told her about the car accident, that he'd brought her to the principal's office and waited until her mother came and got her. She hoped she'd thanked Emmett for being kind. She remembered singing in the big church. She remembered the redwood casket, strangely short and covered in white roses.
She wished she'd gone to the cemetery; she'd have liked to save one of those roses.
0O0TSA0O0
It was only a month ago, that she'd walked home with Mary. Emmett and Malcolm had struck up a conversation about the summer. She was going to take swimming at the park. Malcolm said he might too. He'd taken her book bag. He'd held her hand.
He always looked her in the eyes. Most of the boys now paid attention about a foot lower. He never did, or at least she'd never caught him. She'd meant to kiss his cheek.
The flight attendant looked at the sticker on her chest. Oh she hated the orange tag that made her seem so much younger. Irina was nice, she had a blonde up do and talked right to her, never making her feel small. This one seemed bored as she read the sticker and then she marked the paper on the clipboard.
"Isabella M Swan, transfer to flight for Port Angeles."
"Uh, Yes. I'm headed to Port Angeles to meet my father."
"We've notified him of the weather delay. I'll take you to get some refreshments and then put you on your flight. It should still get you home by 8 tonight."
She waited in a private lounge decorated for the ten and under set, unable to get comfortable on the juvenile furniture.
Home Bella thought, what a joke. Home is Chicago, with Renee. Bella again opened up her memories to pass the time. After the funeral, her mother thought it would be good to get her out of town. Renee realized from her daughter's tears that her classmate was more than just another boy in the class. He was her crush. The girl had seen so much heartbreak; she needed to have a good summer far from this pain. Charlie had friends with kids, right? It had to be better than a summer in the city.
Summer in her neighborhood with a great library and a new bike, the promise of swimming lessons at the park pool and watching the boys play baseball, maybe even playing some softball herself. Well, at least she could stand in the out out field, or try to hit the ball.
Now, she was on her way to the sunless coast. Was there even a library in Forks? Could she get a card at her Father's house? Would he let her ride a bike? Would there be a bike for her to ride?
She was 12 and she had not lived with her father since she was 6. He'd come to visit her a few times wherever she'd lived. Mostly it was cards on holidays and the occasional package.
It was just past 8PM when the luggage carrousel spat out her suitcase. She dragged it over the lip of the conveyer belt and debated going out to the sidewalk. Just as she was about to move, a hand touched her shoulder.
"Miss Swan, you have to wait here for your father to sign you out."
Resigned, she sat on her bag, watching the door. She hadn't reached 75 counting in her head when she heard Charlie's voice.
"I'm Isabella Swan's father. I'd like to get her home."
Bella pondered those words as they drove in the police cruiser back toward his town, Forks.
Her father spoke, keeping his eyes on the road the entire time.
"Bella. I know you like to read, so I got you a library card. You just have to go in and sign it. Rebecca, Billy's older girl is driving now, so I asked Billy if you could ride her bike. It's a pink 3 speed. I hope that's ok. I got you a pink helmet to match."
"Seriously?"
"Uh, Isabella. I know you didn't want to come this summer. I know you. I mean your Mom told me. I agreed that … "
"Oh, I get it. I do appreciate the card and the bike. I do."
"We'll get on. We will get on. It's the nicest time of year in Forks"
Charlie spoke to the windshield, convincing himself as much as his daughter.
0O0TSA0O0
The first few weeks fell into a simple rhythm. Bella got up after her father, and called him to tell him her plans, or leave a message. She'd eat breakfast, do up the dishes and pack a lunch some days. She'd read after she'd tidy up the house or do some laundry. Some days she'd bring lunch to the station for her and her father, some days he'd have her share pizza or they'd go to the diner.
She made dinner most nights, but at least once a week they'd have dinner at the diner. Her dad was a regular, ordering without looking at a menu.
He did like her cooking, but he wanted her to have some fun. This summer was not supposed to be all chores.
Fourth of July found them watching fireworks from a vantage point where the firing line was in sight. Charlie had duty, as it was a busy weekend, but seeing the fireworks lit made up for the long day. The neighbors had invited her over for a barbeque, and Bella had brought a noodle salad from her grandmother's recipe. It had been mostly adults, the kids being under ten. She'd eaten a burger and drank a Coca-cola. Charlie bought her ice cream from the Quick Stop on the highway. He told his daughter that fireworks deserved ice cream.
She felt a little less alone as they sat on the rear bumper of the cruiser. The 1812 overture was on the radio for the fireworks, and after the opening volleys of light, the music changed. Bella did not know the name of the music, only that Malcolm had liked it, played the Base portion on his big stringed instrument in the auditorium. She'd heard his practices and had often stopped in to listen.
She thought she could convince Charlie that her eyes were irritated from being so close to the line of fire for the display.
She was wrong.
"Bella, Bells. I don't think the fireworks are worth crying over."
"Irritated eyes." She drew in a deep breath and sniffled a bit.
"Irritated heart." He waited out her response.
"He played that song. He was sweet. He shouldn't have been around me. Disaster follows me where ever I go."
"Bella."
"No Dad. I kissed him. I kissed him back. I probably marked him for his fate." Bella spoke with a bitter tone, as a large firework lit up the clearing, sparkling the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
"Bella. I … you're … young to be kissing, but hear me out. A pretty girl kissed him. The best girl kissed him. My girl. That is a good thing. He has that. Forever. You gave him that."
"Dad."
"No. I'm your dad. I was a boy. Trust me, I know boys. He has that. You gave him a little piece of your heart. He'll never lose it."
"That's why it still hurts?"
Charlie was not a touchy sort of guy. He'd barely hugged his own daughter a dozen times since she and her mother left. It was awkward, but it was not forced, just unusual as he slid his arm around his daughter's shoulders.
"It hurts because you did. It means it was real. It's real like these fireworks are beautiful too. They only last a moment, and then we can remember the light. It's a nice memory. It will be a nice memory. Just give it time. It sucks, but it means you have a heart, a good heart."
"Ok, Dad. I'll remember."
They sat in silence through the rest of the display. Years later Bella would remember it as the longest conversation they'd ever had.
0O0TSA0O0
The weekend after the Fourth, Bella was on a fishing & camping weekend with her dad, the Black's and the Clearwater's. They were near the shore, a few miles up from First Beach. Billy Black had leant Charlie the bike that Bella now rode. Sue and Harry brought their son and daughter, but Leah was always talking to an older boy, Sam and their younger son Seth tagged along with Jacob, Billy's younger son.
Bella preferred to read, where ever she found herself. It was easier to blend in; she didn't worry about tripping into the campfire or tangling the fishing lines. Never mind the other trip where she'd capsized the boat. She was there, she helped with the chores, she made mud pies with the younger boys and she shared a tent with Leah. She tried to make things better for everyone around her but not get in their way.
It was the beginning of who she would be for a long time. If you looked in the picture albums after that summer, you would look hard to find a picture of her. Her face in a group shot, sure but if you saw a hand with a dish or someone in the background, tending to what ever needs doing-that would be her place.
As the embers of the campfire glowed to their end, she sat downwind of the smoke and regarded the starry night sky. The clouds had parted enough to allow a decent view of the heavens and Bella imagined Malcolm sitting on one, with his music covering the horizon. It was now just an ache, not so raw to think of the boy with the tousled hair who never teased her about being a klutz; the boy who spoke with her as a friend-just another member of the class sharing his jokes and his hopes.
Her first kiss was his only kiss.
She watched the sky long after the rest had turned in for the night.
She sought out the images of the Myths. The muses were they all just benevolent messengers of beautiful ideas? As the moon shifted in the sky, she imagined three, malevolent males, crimson robed and scowling. Aro, Marcus and Caius tying a red ribbon to her ankle, vowing to trip her at every turn. Muses of mayhem and misfortune, determined to crumble every good plan. Bella must protect others from her visitors.
That summer she laughed again for her father, she spoke kindly to her mother and she protected all she knew from her real heart.
It would be many moons before her muses fell silent before another pair of emerald eyes.
That is a tale for another summer!
~fin~