Playlist: Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town by Pearl Jam, Ants Marching by Dave Matthews Band
Chapter 3
2008
The car ride to Forks High is quick. I sit in the parking lot, staring at the building for several minutes. So much happened here. So much didn't happen here. I love and hate this place. I want to dip it in bronze and preserve it. I want to burn it to the ground.
I exit my car, one boot at a time, and slam the door shut. As soon as I do, I realize I left my purse inside. Maybe on purpose so I can come back if I need to. I leave it there and stride past the old gym where Coach Harris used to make me play volleyball so he could stare at my ass. For years, I told everyone he was a pervert. No one believed me until a freshman came forward, telling Forks News Five he'd set up a rendezvous with her. Five girls came forward after she did. Gross. I'm glad he never actually came onto me. Just leered.
I stare at the double doors, remembering what it was like to be here day in and day out. When the agony of high school was a regular thing.
1996
"Swan, you coming to the game?" Tyler asks, and I nod, though I can't look at him. He's still hopeful even after our dance date that ended early. "You gonna cheer for me?"
"I'm gonna cheer for everyone. I'm in the band. That's what the band does."
He gives me a forced laugh. "Alice's after?"
"Yeah, I'll be there."
"Me, too."
Edward waves me over absently. He's at his car, talking to Heidi, a senior cheerleader. I should've known he wouldn't stay single long. Cute football players are hard to come by. There's Tyler and Emmett and Edward. A few so-so boys, but that's about it. Edward stands above the rest, and Emmett's been in Rosalie's pocket since she was a freshman even though he was a sophomore playing varsity football.
"I gotta go. My ride," I say, turning away.
"Hey," Edward says, after giving Heidi a quick hug.
"Hey." I sound morose to myself. I hate all these couples. They're so couple-y.
"What's with you?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"He's bugging you again, huh?"
"He's not bugging me. He just won't take a hint. I mean, a girl leaves you with blue balls. Would you think she's interested?"
Edward laughs raucously as he gets into his car. "I would say not. Alice?"
"She's heading home with Jasper."
"Then why am I taking you home?" He's perturbed, it seems.
"Because I'm not going home. I'm going to your home. Like always." My hands are on my hips. I don't know how they got there.
"You're in a bad mood."
"I'm just—ugh! Can we just go?" I throw my bag in and slam the door after I'm seated.
Once he's in the car, he keeps talking. "Okay. You need to get high. Or laid. Or something."
"What I need is a make-out session with Jordan Catalano, but that's not gonna happen because I'm not Angela Chase, am I?"
"Who the hell's Jordan? I thought Angela just got together with Ben?"
"She did. Forget it. You don't understand."
"You could enlighten me." He's irritating. I told him I didn't want to talk.
"You couldn't handle it."
"You'd be surprised what I can handle. I'm from Seattle, yo."
I chuckle at his obvious first attempt at using the word yo. "You are so not ghetto, so don't even try."
We make it home just in time to catch The Alice and Jasper Show. She's leaning over the console, her tongue in his mouth, hand on his chest. I think I might throw up.
Edward gets out of the car and bangs on the driver's side window. "She's the closest thing I have to a sister. And I like you, but I will mess you up!"
"Thanks, Dad," Alice says, huffing all the way to her room where she slams the door, locking me out.
"Great. Now what am I going to do for the next few hours?"
Edward shrugs.
I point to him and glare. "Entertain me."
Edward leads the way to his room, opening the door wide. I've only been in a few boys' rooms. None of them look like this. Edward's room is filled with posters—singers and bands—and music. Lots of music. CDs are strewn across the floor, on his unmade bed, piled on his dresser, and even organized haphazardly on some shelves.
I sit on his bed and throw my backpack down. "She's gotten moody," I say. "It's bugging me."
"You're bugging me."
"Hey, what did I do?" I cross my arms over my chest, the excess fabric of my huge shirt bunching up beneath my hands.
"You're feeding off her and her I-have-to-have-a-boyfriend crap. You don't have to have an anything."
"I know that."
"Then why are you acting weird?"
"I just miss her."
"Tell her."
"I can't tell her. She's been after Jasper since the seventh grade. She'll feel guilty, and then she won't know what to do, and I can't add stress to her life. Ever since Riley and Royce and Alec. . . I mean, she's not good with stress."
"Okay, well, just hang. Chill out."
"What's with you and Heidi?"
"Nothing." He picks up a CD from the floor, opening and closing it, keeping his eyes glued to it.
"You kiss her yet?"
"You kiss Tyler?"
"Yeah."
"But you didn't suck?" His lips turn up in the corners.
I throw myself back on the bed, cover my eyes, and groan. "Jasper is dead to me."
"Shouldn't you be killing Tyler in your fantasies. He's the one telling people. That's messed up, if you ask me."
"No, Tyler's a nice guy. He just—I don't know. Anyway. So, no Heidi action?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure I want it." He sits at his desk chair. It used to be Riley's. Weird.
"You're a guy. Every guy wants it."
"Not with her."
"Then who? Who do you want it with?"
He returns to his CD sorting, this time at his desk, and pauses briefly, turning it over and over in his hand. "Not with her," he repeats. "Not unless I'm desperate."
"That's exactly how I feel about Tyler. I'm not interested like that."
"Good," he mumbles and holds up Pearl Jam Vs. I nod. He puts it on, then lies next to me on the bed while we listen to Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town. I laugh at the sentiment of the song, and Edward belts out "Helloooo" with Eddie Vedder. I giggle and roll to my side, staring at Edward for the rest of the track.
He's fascinating to watch as he listens to the music, his eyes fluttering open and closed, like he's inside the sound itself. It's beautiful. Like him.
-OP-
The game runs into overtime, Tyler running in the final touchdown and saving our butts. My dad's there to watch me perform but leaves early since I'm taking the bus home from the away game. He doesn't stop by to say hello or goodbye, he simply waves when the game is over. It's so different from Esme's fawning over Edward's game and my marching performance. She's such a mother, and I love it. I crave it. Edward seems goofy-happy when she's around, too. Looks like we both need some mothering. In his case, I wonder why that is.
The crowded bus is loud and full of music. Drumline's always playing cadences on the floor and the backs of seats. We come to a screeching stop at a light, and then the smell hits us. Burnt rubber or something awful fills the air, and we're evacuated.
The football team comes to our rescue. We're instructed to leave as much as we can behind since we'll be tightly packed like sardines in their bus. Tyler spots me and pulls me into his seat without asking. He drapes his heavy arm over my shoulder. I don't complain even though he smells of sweat and grass.
We chat, which is fine, but I don't like the way he's looking at me in my tank top and suspendered uniform. He's watching my boobs more than my eyes. My stomach clenches when he leans toward me. We're talking about biology. How is that an invitation to kiss me?
"Tyler, no," I say quietly, turning my head to the side.
"I miss you. I hardly ever see you." He leans in again, and I have nowhere to go but backward. I scoot as far away as I can, my hands splayed out on my seat and the one in front of me. This is no good as my chest protrudes with the pose. He stares again. Boys are pigs.
His hands are around my waist pulling me in, my hands making that awful sound of sweaty skin against vinyl, screeching out my desire to be anywhere else but here.
"Bella. Helloooo," he sings. Edward. Thank goodness. "You gotta hear this story Emmett's telling."
"Yeah?" I say, looking up at my savior.
"Come on," he says casually, offering me his hand. I take it and follow him to the back of the bus where he sits alone. Nowhere near Emmett.
"Thank you," I say quietly once I'm settled near the window. I rest my head against it, not caring if I leave a grease stain on the glass. I don't really care about anything right now. Although, I am jealous that Alice has someone like Jasper. Someone I know cares about her for who she is and would never try to cajole her into anything.
With a gentle hand on my back and a soft, "You okay?" I nod and brush my hand over my cheek, wiping away a few tears.
The drive is long from Port Angeles to Forks, especially since we had the thirty minute switch-buses delay, but it's much better with Edward by my side. His heavy thigh is pressed against mine, and his breathing's even, eyes closed.
"You asleep?" I whisper.
He shakes his head.
"Why'd you drag me back here?"
"Because he's a jerk, Bella."
"And you're not?"
"Not here, I'm not. And not with you."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know." He opens his eyes and leans forward, hands on his thighs. He swivels his head to me and says it again. This time I think he does know, but he doesn't explain himself.
When he leans into the seat again, I scoot closer, and he pulls me to his side, his arm around my shoulder. It's so different from Tyler's. I drop my head to his and fall asleep for the rest of the ride.
-OP-
Tyler doesn't show up at Alice's, but all the rest of the usuals do. The party's loud; I'm not in the mood. Edward stays by my side most of the night, quietly watching me. When everyone's gone but Jasper, I take a quick shower and slip into my pajamas.
I peek into the den where Edward's got MTV on. Kurt Cobain garbles into a microphone. I miss Nirvana. Edward's eyes meet mine, and he nods upward, asking me what's up.
"Where's Esmom?"
"Her room. She's reading, probably."
I head into Esme's room. Carlisle's out with his drinking buddies tonight, so she held the party herself, adding a chocolate fountain to her usual chicken wings and multitude of chips.
She holds up a finger, and her eyes sweep over the page quickly. She reaches to her nightstand and places her bookmark in it. "You want to talk about it?"
"I don't understand why everyone has to hook up. Why can't we just be?"
"You can just be. Most girls aren't as confident as you, Bella." Her soft eyes tell me she's being honest. Then again, she's always honest.
Her words make me laugh internally. Sure, I am capable, but I am not so confident. I put up a good façade, I guess. Even one Esme can't see through. Unless she's just being polite, which could be the case. Polite or not, I need her advice, her comfort, so I let out my worries. "Why is Jasper so important to Alice?"
"We all lost a lot that night when the boys got on the road. I think she's seeking what she lost: closeness, companionship, love."
"Don't I give her those things?"
"You do, honey, but it's different coming from a boy."
"I guess so. Is this the part when you tell me that someday I'll understand?"
"You will. When it happens to you, you will understand. And you'll forgive her."
"Okay," I say softly, my hand pressed against her doorframe. "Thanks, Esme."
"You're welcome. You'll call your mom tomorrow, right? I can't keep stealing these moments from her."
"You're my mom." I grin, and she returns the sentiment with a small but sad smile.
"I'm very flattered. Call your mom anyway."
I probably won't. Mom's been gone a long time. We don't have much of a relationship since I don't hear from her often. But I don't mind it that way. I much prefer Dad over her.
I pass Edward without a word and attempt to sleep, but Alice's tossing and turning tonight makes it impossible.
I get up at two, heading for the kitchen. The dim light glows above the stove, and beneath it so does Edward's red hair. He's hovered over the counter, eating something straight from the container with his fingers.
"Tell me about Seattle," I say.
He turns around, eyes wide, not thinking I'd catch him here. He's shirtless, wearing ratty striped pajama pants. He shrugs as his chest vibrates with a short chuckle, returning his fingers to the bowl. "You're like a ninja. What do you want to know?"
"Everything. About your family, your friends, why you're here. Take me away from this place with your words."
He sits beside me at the island, sharing his left over chicken wings with me, goofy grin in place.
"It's not a good story," he admits.
"I don't care."
"I was not a good person, Bella. I'm not a good person."
"That's such bull."
"I was stoned all the time."
"I wish I was stoned."
"No, you don't."
"Fine, I don't want to be stoned. I just want to forget."
"There are other ways to forget. Ways to get high." He leans across the island and presses his thumb against the edge of my lip before bringing it to his mouth and sucking on it. "Sauce," he says.
"Uh huh. Sure," I say.
"See?" He cocks an eyebrow. "I'm not a good person."
I catch his eyes with mine and wait a beat, then: "Well, maybe we match."
"Maybe."
A/N: Reviews are better than listening to Pearl Jam with a boy. Okay, maybe not, but I still like them. Hope you're enjoying the ride. And did you check out my pretty banner by TwistedLea. She's awesome, by the way. Thanks, lady!
