Disclaimer: The Twilight Saga belongs to Stephenie Meyer and is not mine.
A/N: Once again, thanks so much to my mentor Amelie Gray and also to my beta anythingzombie for catching all my mistakes.
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"Bella, this is Edward. Edward, this is Bella," Esme said. "You're going to be attending kindergarten together next week."
Bella, Edward and their mothers were at a convention for promising, young musicians in Seattle. Edward was already beginning to plunk out melodies on Esme's upright, while Renee had realized that her daughter was predisposed to the spotlight; she just hadn't realized that music wasn't how Bella was going to get it.
The ironic thing was that, although Esme and Renee had often seen each other around the small town of Forks and had exchanged pleasantries on many occasions, they'd had to go to Seattle to really talk. In the past hour they'd been there with their children, they had found companionship.
Edward examined the bouncing brunette toddler named Bella doubtfully. Her glittery shirt had animal cracker crumbs all over it, and by the looks of her dirty feet, she had been walking around barefoot since she'd arrived. He glanced down at his uncomfortable, shiny shoes and frowned. How come she was allowed to walk around without any shoes on? As he returned his gaze to her eager, brown eyes, he felt a sudden desire to kick off his shoes and run around with her, but that would just be silly. Plus, Bella was a girl, and Emmett said that girls were gross. And, well, Emmett knew everything because he was going into second grade. Still, Bella didn't look that gross. She looked nicer than his twin sister, Alice, who pulled his hair and bit him and screamed like a banshee. Bella looked like a downright saint compared to Alice—except that Edward didn't really know what a saint was, just that his Grandma Elizabeth called him that when he did something good. Anyway, this Bella girl seemed okay.
Little did he know, Edward was receiving the same sort of examination from Bella. As she stared at Edward, she wondered how her mother expected her to play with this stiff, serious, unsmiling boy. He shifted uncomfortably in his khaki pants, button-down shirt, and dark green tie. The only untidy thing about him was his hair: it stuck out in every direction, and it was the strangest color, too. Bella thought of shiny new pennies glinting in the sun. She wondered if his hair actually felt like pennies—hard and cold. And his eyes were the most vivid green she'd ever seen in her admittedly short life. God must have had the sun on really, really bright when he made Edward, Bella thought to herself, amazed at how Edward shined without a sparkly shirt. She was instantly jealous. Everyone must have looked at him as walked by. She sighed heavily. She guessed it wasn't his fault, though. He seemed okay.
"Edward, dear, what are you supposed to do when you meet someone new?" Esme said, breaking through their thoughts.
Edward gave Bella a little grimace. She giggled. He was funny.
"Hello, Bella. My name is Edward A. Cullen. It's nice to meet you," he said, sticking out his hand.
Bella looked at his hand then up at him like he was crazy. "S'nice to meet you, too. My name's Bella, and I'm not going to shake your hand, even if you have penny hair and leprechaun eyes."
The mothers burst into laughter at that. "Bella," Renee scolded through her tears of mirth. "That's not polite at all."
"Yeah, I do not have leprechaun eyes," Edward complained.
"I'm just telling the truth. Haven't you ever seen a leprechaun before?" Bella asked indignantly.
"Leprechaun's aren't real. My brother, Emmett, told me."
Bella's eyes narrowed. "They are too real. I've seen one," she lied, wanting to win the argument. When she thought about it, though, the only reason she knew what a leprechaun was was because Jessica Stanley told her. And Jessica Stanley once told Bella that she was a magical fairy at a play group, even though Bella went swimming with Jessica, and Bella saw that Jessica most certainly did not have purple, sparkly wings.
Jessica Stanley was such a big fat liar.
"No, you haven't. You're an awful liar," Edward informed her.
"Well, maybe not, but if I had seen a leprechaun, I bet they would have the exact same color eyes as you," Bella retorted. "Besides, I wish I had leprechaun eyes. They're pretty."
"I don't have pretty eyes," Edward whined.
"Yes. You. Do," Bella said forcefully. For good measure, she stomped her foot and stuck out her tongue.
Edward wanted to hit the girl.
"Okay, that's enough, kids," Renee said, grinning like a mad-woman. To Esme, she said, "I can hear the wedding bells."
Esme hummed in agreement, smiling. "We're going to go sit by the fountain and talk, okay? You guys can stay here if you want."
Bella and Edward looked at each other as they left.
"Why are you here?" Bella finally asked, pretending to walk on an invisible tightrope.
"I'm learning how to play the piano," Edward answered mildly.
"Well," Bella said, biting her tongue in concentration, "I'm going to be a famous singer when I grow up." She stopped and turned to face him. "Wanna hear me sing? I'm real good," she declared proudly.
"Okay," Edward replied, amused.
Bella sang Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star with gusto, her discordant voice making Edward wince.
"How did I do?" she inquired once she'd finished.
Edward stared at her, aghast. "You're a terrible singer. You didn't sing one note right." This was all very true because in a year, everyone would discover that Edward had perfect pitch.
"No, I have a great voice," Bella said stupidly. "My mom said so."
Edward's head jerked back surprise. "Well, your mom was probably lying to make you feel better because you sounded exactly like Emmett's hamster last month when he accidently squeezed it too hard. My dad had to kill it because some of its ribs were broken."
Bella's eyes welled with tears. "You're so mean," she cried, burying her face in her hands and sobbing. "Now how am I supposed to be a famous singer?"
"You can't," Edward said, astonished that she would ask such a question.
This, of course, only made Bella cry harder.
Edward looked at her with alarm. He didn't mean to make her cry.
"Bella?" he asked her hesitantly. "It's okay. Not everyone can sing."
Bella sniffled. "They can't?"
Edward shook his head violently then said, "Don't tell my mom I said this, but my dad is the worst singer I've ever heard in my entire life."
"Really?" Bella said, smiling.
Edward nodded his head emphatically, glad she had stopped crying.
"Well, I guess I'll have to find out how else to become famous then."
Edward looked at this crazy five-year-old girl incredulously. "You're silly," he said.
Bella pursed her lips. "No, I'm not."
He giggled. "Yes, you are."
"No."
"Yes. You're silly, Bella."
Mistaking his words as a five year old is apt to do, Bella protested, "My name's not Silly Bella. It's just Bella, stupid."
"Silly Bella," Edward taunted, laughing.
"I am not," she whined. "Why do you keep saying that?"
"'Cause you are." Edward shrugged, his stupid green leprechaun eyes glinting. "Silly Bella."
Bella groaned in frustration then, after a moment of thought, she pursed her lips together. "Well, if you get to call me Silly Bella, then I get to call you Leprechaun Eyes. Deal?"
Edward pondered this for a moment. "Deal." Bella's answering grin made him realize how much he liked this girl and how much fun he'd had. "But we have to be friends forever, okay?"
"Okay," Bella chirped, very glad that she had come to this music convention. Even if she couldn't sing a note in tune.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Chapter 2:
"So, Bella, any ideas as to who might be writing this?"
Bella looked up at Rosalie. "If I knew, do you think I would be sitting here right now?"
"That's a good point." Rosalie frowned. "Does the website's name have any meaning to you? Or is it just a pathetic, cheesy attempt of the site's owner to be funny. Because 'cheesy' is written all over this thing."
Bella blushed. "Er, well, my childhood best friend called me that. It was sort of our thing. But it kind of caught on. Everyone that I knew started to call me Silly Bella when I did something stupid or clumsy. My dad, my friend Emmett, Alice, Jasper, people at school. The whole town of Forks practically." It got pretty annoying sometimes, too.
Rosalie sighed. "Well, that's unhelpful. Anyone in town could have leaked the name. But who would know enough of your childhood stories to make a website and spend money advertising it?" Rose mused. She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms over her chest. "Bella, go home and read over the one story that's logged so far, and tell me if you have any new leads. I know they say any publicity is good publicity, but I'd like to keep your slate clean as long as we can. Especially if these stories are accurate."
"Well, I'd like to keep myself from dying of embarrassment, actually," Bella said sarcastically, "but whatever floats your boat."
Rosalie rolled her eyes. "You know, this is why you're the actress and I'm the PR. You're dramatic while I'm sensible."
"Oh, please, Rosalie. What was with you being a complete bitch to Angela this morning, huh?"
"I was upset," Rosalie explained coolly.
Bella sighed. "Whatever. Now, were you lying when you said I'd gotten movie offers?"
"Thanks for reminding me," Rosalie said, reaching over for a small stack of papers. "Here. You can read over these at home, too."
Bella smiled. "Thanks. I'll call you tonight if I have anything decided."
"Good. Bye, Bella."
"Bye, Rosalie," Bella said, standing up.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
"Alice," Bella babbled into the phone, her eyes tearing up. "Alice, please come over when you get this message. Please." She snapped the phone shut, leaning back in her seat.
Although she had remained together throughout her meeting with Rosalie, Bella had fallen apart as soon Collin had closed her car door. She sniffled now, trying to hold back a sob. It was like this guy knew exactly what would hurt her worse. She could put up with being called unattractive. She could put up with media lies. But the nickname Edward had given her? The one her closest friends had used as a term of endearment? Now plastered all over the web? She couldn't handle it. Every time it would show up in an article or an interview, she would think of him and what could have been.
"Miss. Swan, we're here."
"Thanks, Collin," she mumbled, exiting the car as quickly as she could. Alice opened the door before Bella could and hugged her tightly.
"What's wrong, Bella?" Alice asked.
"Everything," Bella sobbed into her friend's shoulder. She allowed Alice to guide her into her living room. She sank into her couch gratefully. Wrapping her arms around her waist, Bella whispered, "I wish I could just disappear."
"What happened?" Alice's voice was calm and comforting.
Reluctantly, Bella leaned forward and grabbed her laptop off the coffee table. She quickly found the offending website and handed the computer over to Alice.
Alice covered her mouth in dismay. "Oh, Bella. Bella, honey, I'm sorry. So sorry."
"Now, I won't ever be able to get over him, Alice. And I know you want me to be friends with him again, but I can't," Bella cried. "I just can't. Especially after this. And I haven't even read the story in there yet! Why would someone do this to me?"
But Alice didn't respond. She was too busy staring at the computer screen, horror and realization displayed on her face. "He wouldn't," she hissed under her breath, her eyes narrowing. "Oh, he is so fucking dead."
"Who, Alice? Do you know who wrote this?" Bella questioned eagerly through her tears.
"I'm sorry, Bella…I have to go and…meet Jasper for lunch." She got up quickly, her eyes full of fury. "I really am sorry." She fled, muttering obscenities under her breath.
Bella sank back into the couch miserably, grabbing her laptop and placing it on her lap. She moved her curser to the side bar and clicked on the tab that said Bella's Childhood Chronicle. At the name, she couldn't help but think that Rosalie was right in saying that the site owner was cheesy. The name was such a pathetic attempt at alliteration. She clicked on the link that read, "Domino Effect," with apprehension. A paragraph of sheer mortification appeared before her eyes.
The post told of the time when she was fifteen and knocked over a line of twenty students as they made their way out of the school for a fire drill, spraining two classmates' ankles and giving Mrs. Cope a concussion. She had caught her right foot on her left foot and found herself knocking into Eric Yorkie, who, in turn, knocked over Ben Cheney, and so on and so forth. It had been one of the worst moments of her life, and Mrs. Cope had never liked her since.
The paragraph was full of hidden insults and layered with malice. About halfway through, the author labeled Bella as "a danger to society" and said that she was "in dire need of inner ear surgery." Angry tears pricked at her eyes. Who did this person think they were to insult her like this? They probably hadn't even met her! Furiously, she clicked the contacts link in the sidebar to find this awful man's—or woman's—number but was dismayed to find that there was only an email address. She nearly growled in frustration; she'd have liked to have some sort of verbal contact. But this would have to do. She quickly typed the address into her email.
To: S. L. ii at mason. com
From: Bella Swan
Subject: Let's talk.
Dear Sir or Madam,
This is Bella Swan, the object of your website, and I'd kindly like to know your name and telephone number ASAP. Thank you very much.
Sincerely,
Bella Swan.
She looked at it for a few moments, wishing she could add in a few scathing comments, but it was always best, when trying to get someone to cooperate, to be polite, and if that didn't work….well, then this S. wouldn't know what hit him...or her. She clicked send before wandering back onto the website.
She clicked on the link that read The Current Scoop on Bella. God, this person had no creativity whatsoever.
There was the picture of her tripping after her academy awards, of course, and a video. She pressed play.
There Bella was in her costume for Propriety, performing the climax of the movie. Except that it wasn't Bella on the screen. Not really. It was Lillian Harper, elite of New York, selfish, snobbish, and obsessed with image and beauty, but on occasion, around Will, gentle and wistful.
'I can't, Will!' she yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face flushed. 'It doesn't matter how much I want it! I can't!'
Will's—Jacob's—face was enraged. 'Well, it's not just your decision! It's mine, too, Lily!' His face crumpled. 'That's my baby, too,' he whispered.
'Do you want me to lose my propriety? This baby, this thing, it will ruin me. Especially if it belongs to some brainless Indian proletariat! Everything I have worked for. Gone, Will!' she cried.
Will looked up at her, his eyes cold. 'You'd give up your own child for your God awful propriety? I might be poor and Indian, but if you kill that baby, Lily, no matter how many people thinkyou're perfect, no matter how much you deny that we ever happened, you'll always be lower than me, lower than dirt,' he said, his southern accent prominent with grief.
In the movie, Jacob played a Native American descendent from Texas whose ancestors quickly adopted the European way of living, hence the southern accent. This was strange, of course, and Jacob's southern accent was one of the main criticisms of the movie by those who hadn't read the book beforehand. Those that had read the book, though, praised the director's decision because Southern values were a large part of Will's personality in the novel.
After a moment of visible vulnerability, Lillian sneered through her tears. 'I find that highly unlikely, William. Although I do understand your desire to be superior to me, the only way that will occur is if I do what you wish.'
'You just don't get it, do you?' Will said incredulously. 'You're just so God-damn set in your ways that you don't even see that what you're doing is wrong! May the lord have mercy on you.'
Lillian's eyes blazed. 'Don't you dare preach to me, Will!"
They stared at each other furiously, their chests heaving, until Jacob finally collapsed to his knees, hugging Lillian's legs. 'Oh, God, Lily, please. Please don't do this. You'll die of guilt. Please, if not for the baby, then for me,' he begged. Bella/Lillian refused to look down, her eyes fixed on the door. Then, a whisper, 'Lily.'
Her eyes shining, she extracted herself from his grasp, saying, 'Goodbye, Mr. Bowen. I wish you well' and began to walk out. Halfway to the door, Lillian Harper stopped and turned around to look at her lover. 'I—I'll miss you,' she choked before quickly spinning around and….
And tripping on a chair leg.
And falling.
God, no.
The camera swiveled back to Jacob in enough time to see him jerking out of character. One moment, he was tearing up from sadness; the next, he was tearing up from laughter. From backstage, you could hear both groans and laughter.
Bella Swan banged her head on her desk repeatedly. How the hell had they gotten this? These weren't ever supposed to be released! Lonnie had said that if people had seen all of her flubs, it would ruin the effect of the entire movie. She lifted her eyes back up to the screen.
The same scene occurred again. Now, the table and chairs were shifted a foot to the left. Bella knew what was coming next. She watched as she tripped out of Jacob's hold on her legs and fell flat on her face. Again. There was a lot less laughter than before.
Bella exited out of the video quickly. She knew what would happen next. She would trip again. This time over her skirts, and in the next attempt to film a shot, Jacob would be overwhelmed by laughter, thinking of her recent falls.
Of course, her director, Lonnie, had not been so amused at their failure to film this pivotal scene and had yelled at Jacob and her for ten minutes, telling them to get their heads on straight and screaming to the sky, "Why the hell did I fucking decide to use fucking rookies? I fucking told myself I wouldn't fucking do this anymore! Fucking stupid…" and mumbling other obscenities.
Naturally, the next time they performed the scene, Bella, having not eaten in the past eight hours or slept in the past seventeen, hadn't been able to stop crying when it had come time for her to say her lines.
It had been a dark day on the set. One of the worst. And it was hard for her to stomach the fact that there were probably people watching the video right now, laughing at her misery. She stared at her computer screen dejectedly, wondering if her career was over.
However, just as she was about to stand, her computer pinged, indicating a new email message. Eagerly, she clicked on the button to view it.
From: S. L. ii
To: Bella Swan
Subject: Let me see….
Dear Object Of My Website,
Hmmmmm. I would prefer to keep those minor details to myself, actually. I hope that doesn't cause any problems for you.
Sincerely,
S.
P.S. I'm debating whether I should put your email address on the site. That would be a nice touch, don't you think?
P.P.S. By the way, I'm most definitely a sir.
Bella felt her cheeks heat up with anger. How dare he?
Dear S.
Listen, I don't who you think you are, but I want your contact information right this fucking minute!
Beyond pissed off,
Bella Swan
P.S. You wouldn't dare.
His reply was immediate.
Dear Silly Bella,
No, you won't get my contact information, and yes, I would dare.
Try me,
S. L. ii
Her thoughts quickly changing directions, Bella hastily typed up her reply:
Dear S. L. ii
How do you know that name?
BEL-LA
An instant messenger box popped onto the screen.
S. L. ii: What name?
Bella Swan: You know!
S. L. ii: No. I think you'll have to clarify for me.
Bella growled.
Bella Swan: Oh, my God. Fine.
Bella Swan: Silly Bella.
S. L. ii: Ah, that name. A little birdie told me.
Bella Swan: Care to give me any names?
S. L. ii: Not really. Besides, anyone in your hometown would have been more than willing to tell me anything I wanted them to.
Bella Swan: I suppose you won't tell me how the hell you got those deleted scenes either.
S. L. ii: Good supposition .
Bella Swan: Fuck you.
Bella logged off, fuming.
This S.L. guy was so dead.
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