A/N: The world of Twilight is the property of Stephenie Meyer. This is for Day 9 (ice skating) in the 25 Days of Fic Challenge. It is intended to be consistent with my other Twilight ficlet, "Vampires Don't Need Hot Chocolate."
"That tree wasn't supposed to be there!" Bella wails. It's toppled into a snowdrift now, except the top part that has crumpled a minivan. She stomps her feet in unfamiliar skates as Emmett laughs and Alice pulls out a cell phone to take photos for the insurance claim.
Edward and Rosalie are pensively skating together, alternating who goes backwards in wide loops until they spin and Edward lifts Rosalie high over his head for Jasper's video camera. It's one of the few moments when they unreservedly get along, old grudges swept aside in her certainty that together, they are beautiful.
Bella feels her first pang of envy since becoming a vampire. As a newborn, she's used to being the fastest and the strongest. She has amazing self-control for one so young. She is beautiful beyond her wildest hopes. She bore a half-vampire baby and lived; her vampire power is an exceptionally useful ability to shield those she loves. Edward loves her.
In this moment on the frozen pond in northern Minnesota, nothing of hers compares to the swirling, controlled grace of Edward and Rosalie on ice skates.
Rosalie grew up in a snowy climate and must have skated when she was human. She doubtless never, ever pushed off across the ice with vampire strength, so relieved that vampire reflexes meant she couldn't fall, so exhilarated at speed like flying—only to plow into a tree when she realizes she has no idea how to steer or stop.
Alice, done with the van photos, is a blur of spinning motion above the ice.
"I hate skating," Bella mutters.
"No, you don't," Emmett says. "You hate not knowing how to skate. Come on. I'll teach you. I know what it's like to be defeated by your own strength."
He holds out a meaty hand. Bella wants to refuse it, but the others are having such fun that she'd be wrong to sulk.
She lets Emmett lead her onto the ice and teach her to stop with her toe—without putting a foot through the ice. Learning is a tedious round of practice and repetition, just for simple moves that don't begin to compare to Edward and Rosalie's intricate dance.
As the first rays of sun slide pink and gold across the pond, turning her skin irridescent, she clasps hands with Emmett again, and they dance.