Chapter 4: Pushing Buttons

"You learn to like someone when you find out what makes them laugh, but you can never truly love someone until you find out what makes them cry." - unknown

"Bella?" Charlie whispered six inches from my face, early Saturday morning. My eyes flew open and I gasped at the rude awakening. "Oh, good. I thought you were in a coma. You slept in your clothes, you know that?"

I sat up stiffly and blinked a few times to clear my eyes. It was raining out.

"Yeah, dad. I know."

"Well do you know where your truck is?" He sounded annoyed now. I had to think for a minute.

"It's still at school," I told him finally. "I went with Alice and Rosalie right after class yesterday and Rose drove me home last night from Alice's. It was too late, I didn't want to drive because I was too tired."

Satisfied at my safety-first excuse, he left me alone so I could take a shower and change. Still exhausted, I thumped down the stairs and into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal. I glanced at the clock and realized it was only nine in the morning. Just because he likes to get up early on his day off shouldn't mean that I should have to ...

"Bells," Charlie called just as I sat down at the table, "we uh, we don't have much food here right now."

"I know, dad," I mumbled between bites. After a moment, he entered the kitchen and joined me at the table, a mug of coffee between his hands.

"I was wonderin', maybe would you want to come on down with me to the grocery store today? That way we can buy things we both like."

"Yeah," I nodded, feeling less cranky as I ate, "that would be fine. I do need to get my truck at some point, though."

"Alright," Charlie said. Without another word, he stood and went back to his recliner in the living room. I heard the channel change to ESPN. Ah, football season, I noted. College games today.

After breakfast I returned to my room to tidy up, not knowing exactly when Charlie planned on shopping. I retrieved a can of furniture polish from the hallway closet and dusted my dresser and desk, then swept my bedroom floor, made my bed, and finally connected my laptop, the battery in which desperately needed a charge.

Then I moved on to the bathroom, using a bleach cleaner to disinfect the sink and counter, cleaned the toilet, scrubbed down the shower and tub and tossed all the towels into my laundry basket, which I then proceeded to carry down the stairs and threw all of it into the machine with the last of the laundry soap.

Feeling accomplished, I returned to my room and plopped down into the rickety old wooden chair Charlie had given me to go with my desk.

My phone vibrated on the desktop beside me, and I instantly grabbed it, hoping to see Renee's name on the caller ID. But it was a text message, from Alice.

Hey! Hope it's not too early, just wanted to make sure you slept well! Xoxo

I didn't bother to hold back my smile as I re-read it twice before replying.

Nope, I'm awake! Slept like a baby! You? What are you doing today?

I didn't receive an answer right away, so I hesitantly paid attention to my laptop, instead. Maybe Renee emailed me, and I haven't answered her and that's why she hasn't called. Maybe she thinks I'm angry with her ...

I realized I hadn't spoken to my mother since I'd gotten to Forks – two whole weeks. For us, that was a record.

My phone vibrated again.

Good! Spending the day with my dad. Edward and my mom went shopping at a new art supply store in Port Angeles. U?

I smiled again, more so at her reference to Edward this time. Based on what he'd told me about inheriting his mother's love of art, I began to get a sense of just how close they actually were. It was sweet, but also somewhat amusing to think of Edward Cullen, the cigarette-smoking, class-skipping, sarcastic, bad-ass as a momma's boy.

Homework, grocery shopping with my dad, etc.

I wrote back to her quickly, returning my attention to my laptop, which had finally finished loading. I double clicked the icon to open my email. Carefully, I scrolled through my inbox, checking off the spam mail for deletion as I went. I reached the bottom quickly; there was nothing from Renee. Nice ... so she officially has not tried to contact me in two weeks. My plane could have gone down and I might not have made it here alive and she never even tried to check...

My bitter anger towards my mother returned, two-fold. I picked my phone up, flipped it open, and closed it again.

Why should I be the one to call? I had to leave because she wouldn't stop that alcoholic son of a bitch from hurting me, from hurting us. I uprooted my entire fucking life because of her bad decisions, and she doesn't even care to see how I'm doing?

She chose him over me.

Tears stung and threatened to fall, and I sucked in a huge breath and let it out slowly, determined to not let that happen. I didn't want to cry over her, over them. That would somehow allow them to win. I pictured them together in Jacksonville, sipping fancy alcoholic drinks on the beach, watching the waves, completely carefree.

Renee was free to do as she liked, I realized. She'd never really let having a daughter stop her from doing much, but she would always make it work. I took care of her, and in her own ways, she took care of me. And now she had Phil, and she didn't need me anymore. I'd always known my mother was a flake, but it was an endearing quality up until she'd met Phil. Now, I imagined I felt the same way all her old boyfriends must have felt – completely rejected, and the burn was that much worse because Renee couldn't even be bothered to pretend to care about her only daughter.

One rebel tear slipped free and quickly glided down my cheek and fell. I wiped it away immediately, as if someone might see. My phone vibrated again.

Facebook? ;)

Facebook, what? I wondered. I had one, yes. I hadn't checked it since I'd been in Forks, though. And honestly, I hardly even used it – I hadn't made enough friends over the years in Phoenix to even make it worth while.

I closed my email and navigated to the site, taking a moment to remember my password to sign in. Once I did, I was startled to find over twenty friend requests awaiting my approval. Alice, of course, was one, which explained her text. Rose, Emmett, Jasper, even Lauren were all amongst those requests. All of them were from Forks, some of them classmates I'd never even spoken to.

I accepted them all, even Lauren, as I was in no position to be turning down "friends" – even the shit-talking variety. I clicked onto my own profile to see what information I'd included on there when I'd signed up. I winced as my picture loaded on the left-hand side; it was a photo Renee had taken of me the summer before freshman year, and the only one I'd ever bothered to scan onto a computer. I was fourteen, and I looked about ten. That needs to be updated, soon ...

Only a minute or two passed before a red notification popped up on my screen to indicate that Alice had left a message on my page. I grinned, forgetting my anger at Renee momentarily, and refreshed the page.

Yay! I 3 Bella!

Around noon, Charlie finally came upstairs and asked if I was ready to go. We took his police cruiser down to the grocery store and he instructed me to lead the way, insisting on pushing the cart instead of picking what went inside it. Aisle by aisle, we stocked up on the basics – milk, bread, pasta, fresh vegetables. He looked vaguely unfamiliar with some of these, and I guessed he'd eaten a lot of microwavable dinners in the last decade or so. I made sure to choose things that were on sale and only picked out foods I knew I could incorporate into specific meals, rather than things that just looked good.

"Uh, here, take the cart," Charlie said quietly when we reached the non-food section of the store. "I need some deodorant, you know the kind I use. Get whatever else you need."

I was all at once surprised and grateful for the bashful respect he showed in allowing me to add my personal products to his bill. He wandered off to flip through a magazine while I strolled the aisle, picking out a new toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant for both of us, shampoo, and face wash. This trip, I realized, couldn't have come at a better time – I'd been living off travel-sized soaps and lotions, and they were running out.

The bill came to over $200, and I glanced nervously at Charlie as he paid, but he didn't flinch. I knew he wasn't used to spending that much and felt guilty, yet he seemed to be in good spirits as we pushed the shopping cart out into the parking lot.

"Thanks," I said, tapping his arm so he'd look at me. "I appreciate you letting me get all that."

"Of course," he mumbled. We loaded the groceries into the car and I returned the cart to the front of the store. "I'll swing you over to the school on the way home so you can get your truck."

"Sounds good, " I agreed.

I'd followed Charlie home in my truck and helped him carry the bags into the kitchen, offering to put everything away so that he could watch the last half of a football game on television. My stomach growled, so I left out the bread and some cold cuts, and made two sandwiches after I finished up.

"Your birthday is next weekend, Bella," Charlie informed me as I sat down on the couch across from his recliner, handing him his lunch and a cold beer.

"Yah," I sighed, taking a bite. "I know. Don't remind me."

"Well, what do you wanna do?"

"Nothing," I blurted. "Seriously, don't make a big deal of it. I'm only going to be seventeen, it's not even a special birthday."

Charlie chewed thoughtfully, not taking his eyes off me.

"Fine," he said finally. "You're too much like me, you know that?" I smiled, nodding. "How about I take you to the diner tonight. That way, you can't say I did anything for your birthday, 'cause it's not til next week."

I couldn't help but laugh at his harebrained logic, yet, for the second time that day, I felt overwhelmed by Charlie for going out of his way to be considerate with me. After all these years of only having to take care of himself, I felt like I was a burden to Charlie. But he continued to prove he was glad to have me there, and it was difficult to absorb that. It was difficult to accept being taken care of, and not having it the other way around.

"Sure, dad," I said softly. "That sounds good. I ... I appreciate it."

Charlie just nodded and finished his sandwich. I took his plate, along with mine, to the sink and went upstairs to do some homework.

Charlie and I were seated in a booth towards the back of the diner around seven o'clock that night. It was busy, as usual, but our waitress was on top of it and brought our drinks out before I'd even opened the extensive menu.

"Get whatever you want," Charlie had insisted. "It's your non birthday dinner. Plus they're cheap here." He snickered at his own joke, and I smiled, too, shaking my head.

I finally ordered chicken parmesan, while Charlie chose a bacon burger and home-made fries. The waitress hustled off to put our order in and I sipped my soda patiently, figuring the same awkward silence that settled on Charlie and I at dinner would also apply here. I was wrong.

"So, Bells, have you heard from your mom?"

I swallowed hard and looked down, hoping to ward off any outward expression, sad, angry, or otherwise.

"No," I admitted. "She hasn't called."

"Well maybe she emailed ya," he suggested, taking a long sip of his beer.

"She didn't email me either."

Silence. I began to tear my straw wrapper into tiny pieces, littering my place mat with white confetti.

"I think I have a right to know what happened," Charlie said finally, surprisingly angry. His jaw set and his eyes narrowed as he spoke. "Obviously something happened, that you felt you needed to come here. I didn't want to address it before you showed up, but I think now that you're here, I've got a right to know."

"I...I can go back," I mumbled, caught completely off guard. "I know I'm a burden on you, and I shouldn't have brought this here, to you." I began to stand up, not knowing where I'd go, only knowing I couldn't continue this conversation calmly in public.

"Sit. Down." Charlie growled. I obeyed, slightly terrified. I'd never actually seen Charlie angry before, and I didn't know how to interpret it. My own angst went out the window in favor of respecting the temper of the only parent I currently had on the west coast.

Our waitress returned, placing our plates in front of us along with extra condiments and napkins. I thanked her stiffly and waited for her to leave.

"I'm sorry," I finally said, quietly beginning to cut into my chicken.

"You are not a burden, Isabella," he replied. "That's what made me angry. Just so we're clear. Your mom took you and left me when you were a little girl, and I've barely seen ya maybe ten times since then, up until two weeks ago. Don't you dare tell me you're a burden to me."

I opened my mouth to speak but he held out a hand, and I stopped. He took another sip of his beer and then a bite of his burger before continuing.

"I don't know what happened, and I have a feeling it's something pretty bad. I've got my own ideas of what it might have been. It would have to be bad to make you want to leave Ren – your mother. But in a way, I'm glad. I – I'm glad you're here."

Tears threatened to return once again but I successfully forced them back, focusing on my food. We ate in silence, and I wasn't pressured to speak again until after our plates had been cleared.

"It was bad," I said finally. "It wasn't a good ... it wasn't good at all. I couldn't stay there."

"Do you still like cheesecake?"

I paused, confused. Charlie looked down and began to fidget with his shirt sleeve.

"Yes, why?"

"I'll ordered some earlier, kind of as a surprise," he said, sounding sad. "Go on, keep going."

I took a deep breath, wondering how much I should really tell Charlie about why I came to Forks.

I've lied to him so many times already, I chided myself. The least I can do is tell him the truth about this.

"It's Renee's boyfriend," I admitted. Charlie bit his bottom lip, still looking down. It occurred to me how alike he and I acted, even though I'd grown up so far from him and seen him so few times throughout the years.

"He hit you, didn't he?" Charlie suddenly looked up, his eyes glistening. It was probably the closest I'd ever see my dad to crying, and I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. The tears were going to get their way any second.

"He hit us both," I whimpered. "He – he drinks. He got her to, to drink. A lot. Like, all the time. She never -" I sobbed into my napkin and stopped to catch my breath. "She didn't drink before him, she never did. And now ... now all the time. And he hit us both, he just, he threw me, and he choked her. So many, so many times."

I didn't notice our waitress return, but she put two plates of cheesecake between us and darted away again, obviously wanting to stay out of whatever was making me cry.

"I tried to talk to her, dad," I sighed. "I tried to tell her to leave him, I told her we didn't need him. I told her I didn't wanna get beat up in our own home anymore. And she took his side! She took his fucking side!"

I slammed my fist down on the table, sending my fork flying into the booth behind me.

"I told her I wouldn't stay, and I don't think she believed me," I added. "But I left. I had to leave."

Charlie stayed quiet for a long time. I sat there, my stomach in knots, mashing a spoon into my slice of cheesecake until it was unrecognizable, matted onto the plate. I waited as calmly as I could, finally able to suppress my tears, because I could tell Charlie had something to say and was having trouble getting it out. My mind raced, wondering what it would end up being; would he be angry? Sad? Both? Would he threaten Phil, or Renee for that matter? Would he promise to never make me go back there? Or would he tell me that he regretted divorcing Renee, because none of this would have happened then?

"Let's go home," he said finally. So we did.

When we got back to the house, I went straight up to my room without a word. When I'd decided at the diner to tell Charlie the truth, a part of me knew it was less about being truthful with him and more about getting it off my chest. I'd never told anyone about what Phil had done to us, how he'd ruined everything. I needed someone else to know, someone aside from Renee.

But I didn't feel any better now that Charlie knew. In fact, I felt worse – which I hadn't imagined possible. I sat on my bed with my head in my hands, realizing that fact. I felt worse. I was angry and ashamed that I'd cried over my mother, again. I was embarrassed that I'd acted out like that and made the other diners stare. I was angry that I'd upset Charlie, because he was enough like me that I knew he'd internalize what I'd told him, rather than keep the issue on the table. Charlie wouldn't deal with what I'd told him, and he wouldn't help me deal with it. I'd told the wrong person. And on top of all that, without meaning to, he'd lied. I was a burden – I was sure of it. Financially, I was a burden, and emotionally, I was now a burden as well.

Renee called my cell phone that night, but I didn't have it in me to answer. She didn't leave a message.

Returning to school on Monday was a relief, an opportunity to return to normalcy after a miserable weekend.

In math, our teacher had suggested working in groups to study for our first big test, so Jasper and I had partnered up. And, of course, third period history was a treat because of Alice. She'd greeted me with a hug and we'd passed notes throughout class. Lauren had shown for study hall, but I'd ignored her, spending the period talking to the school newspaper supervisor, Mr. Krauss, about ideas for the first issue of the school year. By lunch time, the bad mood I'd held onto since Saturday night had completely dissolved.

Lunch was my favorite part of the school day. I got to see Alice, Rose, and the boys. Edward usually showed up somewhere near the end of the period, and I always wondered, but never asked, what class he was leaving early to join us. That day was no different – Edward sidled into the cafeteria five minutes before the bell rang, his hair soaking wet. He sat in the empty chair beside me and I smelled tobacco on him immediately, scrunching my nose in disgust while he wasn't looking.

I walked behind him to biology this time, at least until a fight broke out on the opposite side of the stairwell we were climbing. Instantly, a crowd formed and I was sucked in, being pushed and shoved to my knees, unable to stand back up and move away because of the mosh-pit mentality. I began to panic after being kicked in the back and neck a few times, wondering if I'd been sucked into the fight. I tried to yell for someone to let me stand, but no one heard me over the screaming and commotion.

Suddenly, I felt myself being raised, from where I wasn't sure. A path was made by an unseen source and I accepted my escape without question. I took the stairs by twos until I reached the second floor, just as the bell rang. On the landing below, I could hear the fight still going on.

"Are you alright?"

I froze, and slowly turned to see Edward behind me. My heart was still pounding from racing up the stairs and away from the crowd, and hearing his velvet voice so close to me was doing nothing to help.

"Yes," I replied weakly. "Was that...you?"

"I got you out of there, yes," he admitted. His right hand came to rest on the small of my back as he led me down the hallway. "Are you alright, though? I saw you getting knocked around before I was able to move those morons away."

"I'm fine," I breathed. "I think I panicked more than anything." He nodded, his hand leaving my back and coming up to my shoulder, then my neck. I felt him gently part my hair, sending warm shivers down my spine.

"You're already bruising right there," he said. "If you want, I can get some ice ..."

"No," I cut him off. "It doesn't hurt, I promise. We're late to class."

Thankfully, Edward took the responsibility of explaining to our teacher why we were late while I slipped past him and took my seat. As I pulled out my homework, I realized I'd never given Edward the worksheet I'd collected for him on Friday. I handed mine in, avoiding making eye contact with him even though he probably never knew we were assigned anything. It's not my fault he didn't show up, I reasoned, still feeling guilty.

For the last ten minutes of class, we were allowed to sit quietly and read a short chapter in our text books on cell reproduction – or something. I was unable to process anything I read after Edward passed me a note.

You didn't tell me we had homework on Friday?

I scribbled back, annoyed, You should have shown up then!

I had somewhere to be.

I snorted. Smoking in the bathroom again?

Is that your business?

No, but it's not my job to keep track of your assignments when you'd rather give yourself cancer. Why do you do that, anyway? It's gross.

I practically threw the note back at him then, not intending to respond anymore. Our teacher had glanced at us more than once already, so he must have at least noticed the movement as we passed the notes hastily to each other. I didn't want to get caught.

I saw Edward read my response, pause, write back, and hand it to me again, but beneath the table this time. I reluctantly took it and read it as casually as I could.

I know. I'm trying to quit :(

You should. You smell like cigarettes instead of cologne.

It's harder than it looks, otherwise I would have already quit. So you like my cologne?

Edward watched me read his last note, and I'd just shrugged. I didn't know how to respond to that, but the bell rang less than a minute later so I didn't have to. I folded the note back up and tucked it into my pocket. As I packed away my notebook and text book, Edward slipped past me into the aisle and began to head for the door before stopping dead in his tracks and turning back to face me.

"I hope you feel better," he said in an almost-whisper. "I hope it doesn't bruise too badly."

I smiled, but he turned and left before I even thought to thank him for rescuing me from the crowd.

In bio the next day, just a few minutes into the lecture, another slip of paper appeared in front of me, interrupting my note-taking.

Do you want to be a reporter when you grow up?

No, I replied, attempting to keep focused on class. Edward smelled good that day, not a hint of cigarette smoke on him at all. Maybe he's really trying to quit after all...

What do you want to be, then? Aren't journalists reporters?

I waited a few minutes to respond, as our teacher had stopped writing notes on the board and was speaking to us directly. I hid the note in the sleeve of the oversized hoodie I'd worn that day, as the rain had continued and brought with it much colder temperatures.

No, not all of them. I want to be an editor. I don't have the personality to be a reporter, I'd get too nervous and ask the wrong questions, or not ask any.

Edward snickered as he read my response, then took my lead and pretended to take down notes. Why the hell is he so interested all of a sudden? I wondered. I wasn't really complaining – every time he passed me a note, my heart would skip a beat. I'd already decided that only happened because he was so incredibly attractive, and I wasn't used to getting attention from guys. It's natural to get flustered, right? Any girl would.

I glanced at him just as he ran a hand through his tousled copper hair, trying to jot down all the notes on the board before they were erased to make room for new ones. I should have been doing the same thing, but it was hard to look away from Edward Cullen. While just about everyone else was bundled up that day due to the unseasonably cold weather, he still wore a light, fitted t-shirt that clung to his midsection, faintly hinting at the muscles beneath. I kept finding myself staring off into space, imagining how it would feel to be the first girl in Forks to be held in those arms.

After the last bell of the day rang, I went to my locker to drop off some books and found Edward waiting there for me.

"Hey, Bella," he greeted me quietly, moving aside as I approached.

"Hi..."

"I forgot to ask you something earlier," he began, his tone changed completely. I nodded for him to continue as I concentrated on opening my locker, hoping I didn't look nearly as nervous as I felt. How did he even know where my locker was? Alice?

"Well?"

"What kind of newspaper do you want to work for eventually? I mean, something big, like the New York Times? Or would you rather do a small-town paper like the Peninsula Daily News?"

He came to find me to ask me that?

Puzzled by his question and stumped as to my own answer, I just shrugged. He wouldn't take that for an response, though, and waited for me to speak.

"I haven't thought about it," I snapped. I was sure that my cheeks and ears were deep crimson as he took in what I said and seemed to think it over.

"I was just wondering," he murmured. "See you tomorrow, Bella." He turned and disappeared around a corner, leaving me completely confused and in a daze. When Alice suddenly pounced on me from the opposite direction, I nearly jumped into my open locker.

"Whoa, Bella, easy!" she cooed, giggling.

"Sorry, I keep getting caught off-guard today..."

"I noticed. What were you and my brother talking about?"

"I don't even know," I admitted. Judging by the look on her face, she wasn't surprised.

The following day, Edward and I were on our own to use the entire sixth period to complete a lab. As Alice had told me on my second day, I was indeed lucky to have him as a lab partner – in fact, maybe too lucky. It was difficult to absorb the lesson we were supposed to be learning when my partner was filling in all the answers before I could even read the questions.

"Why are you rushing through this? I have to learn it too," I finally protested, once half our lab was filled out. Only fifteen minutes of class time had passed.

"Sorry, habit."

He pushed the lab sheet towards me and I took it, reading over some of the answers he'd filled in, attempting to answer the next few on my own. As I read, I became aware of the fact that he was watching me.

"What? What's the matter?"

"Huh?"

"You're staring at me."

"Yes, I am," he admitted. "You bite your lip when you're thinking. It's not very becoming. Your lip is nearly bleeding."

"Maybe you shouldn't look, then," I snarled, turning in my seat to face forward instead of towards him. "I'm not here to be becoming."

"I didn't mean to offend you," he insisted, his tone flat and insincere.

"You didn't," I shot back. "Forget it. Stop staring at me and let me learn the lab."

"Why are you so cranky today?"

"I wasn't until you told me I was being unbecoming."

Honestly, I didn't know when or why my mood had changed, but it had been instantaneous. I was genuinely pissed at him, keenly aware that he was the type to push all of my buttons once he discovered them.

"I apologized for that," he growled. I froze, glancing at him from the corner of my eye.

"Fine."

Edward left our table and excused himself to the teacher to use the bathroom, and I boiled, knowing he was trying to aggravate me by making me think he was going to smoke. For some reason, though I didn't really know him at all, I didn't believe he would fall off the wagon just to piss me off. So when he returned a few minutes later, still smelling of cologne and nothing more, I made sure to smile and act as if I'd never gotten angry.

"May I help you with the lab again?" he asked, holding his hand out for the sheet. I complied, and turned to face him once again. We worked for the next few minutes to complete the lab, well ahead of our classmates.

"Keep it here," I whispered when he moved to hand in our sheet. "Otherwise he'll give us more work to do." Edward nodded and we kept our lab out, open on the table, but began to work on things for other classes.

"Why did you move to Forks?" he whispered suddenly, a few minutes later.

"I missed my dad," I answered quickly, feeling disgusted with myself for the amount of lying I'd been doing lately.

"I don't think that's necessarily the entire truth," he challenged quietly. "I get the feeling something happened to make you move. Everyone knows everyone in Forks, and your dad didn't mention your moving to town until just a couple of weeks before school started."

Fire spread across my face and I dropped my head, shocked at how on-point Edward's analysis had been. I'd clearly underestimated the power of gossip in a town like Forks.

"Why are you so interested in me lately?" I countered, knowing how defensive I sounded, but not caring. "All these questions lately, and why? I don't know anything about you, except that your sister is wonderful, and that you smoke, and like art, and that all the girls here talk about is how you won't lower yourself to date Forks girls. So why are you so interested in me?"

If my reaction had startled him, he didn't show it. We sat there facing each other, neither of us moving a muscle in a thirty-second cold war. Finally, he cocked one eyebrow and exhaled slowly, as if I'd knocked the wind out of him.

"I'm sorry for being so intrusive, Bella," he said, his tone condescending. "I won't ask you any more questions. Please excuse me."

He stood and exited the classroom without asking permission, and our teacher didn't even bat an eye. In fact, it seemed that no one had noticed except me. I considered telling our teacher Edward had skipped out, just to be spiteful, but I kept myself under control until the bell rang. The way he'd spoken to me, that tone he'd used, had me seething, angry over being subtly insulted multiple times over the course of one strange conversation. But something kept me from following him out that door and berating him right in the hallway; fear? Fear that if I angered him the way he'd angered me, he would no longer speak to me at all? Was that really something I feared?

It would be a cold day in hell before I'd be more accepting of being spoken down to thank not being spoken to at all. And it was cold that day ...

Apparently, I hadn't been the only one to pretend indifference; despite Edward's intentionally even tone before he'd up and left class, he ignored me for the rest of the week for good measure. Friday, he hadn't even come to school.

"Where's your brother, Alice?" Emmett had asked with a few minutes left of our lunch period. Alice had just shrugged.

"He left before me this morning, I don't know why he isn't here." She didn't seem concerned, and I tried to act uninterested.

"So what's everyone doing this weekend?" Rose changed the subject, and I silently thanked her. Emmett replied that he had practice both days, and I remembered that he played football for the school. I made a mental note to suggest going to some of the games, if it would mean getting to spend time with Alice.

"I'm basically free," Jasper answered next, winking at Alice. She beamed. Disgustingly cute, those two.

"What about you, Bella?" Rose asked.

"Not sure," I answered honestly. "My dad took me out last weekend for my bir-"

Shit, I wasn't going to mention that. I tried to think of something quickly to add to my sentence, but my mind had already gone blank.

"Your bir...?" Alice pushed. "You don't mean your birthday, do you? Is your birthday this weekend?"

"No," I moaned. "No, no, forget it. For-get-it."

"BELLA!" Alice jumped up and threw her arms around me. "Why would you not tell us that? We should do something!"

"It's fine," I insisted gently, trying to communicate without words how much I loathed having that kind of attention. Birthday parties were just not my thing.

"Come on, we'll do something small. We can all go to my house and just get pizza and hang out."

I paused, considering it. If it was really just going to be a casual hang out, that I could do. I'd wanted to go back to Alice's amazing house since I'd left it.

"No birthday hats or cake?"

"None," she promised. "Pizza and board games and nothing more." Her eyes were shining with hope, waiting for me to give her the go-ahead on her idea. I sighed.

"Fine," I said finally. "Just pizza and board games. Nothing else! No cake or singing or streamers, none of that."

"Yay!" Alice squealed so loudly, people at other tables looked over. "Which day is your birthday, anyway?"

"Sunday. The thirteenth."

"So Saturday night, then," she said, to everyone else this time. "Saturday night, seven o'clock. Just come over, we'll be in the basement." Jasper and Emmett nodded, neither one looking surprised at Alice's hyperactive party-planning skills. It occurred to me that I'd been smiling the entire time – my cheeks hurt.

The bell rang and we all dispersed for our next classes. Alice followed me, though, and grabbed my hand as we headed up the stairs.

"If you don't want to do anything, you can tell me," she offered softly. "I know I get really excited, and not everyone likes birthdays as much as I do. If you don't want to-"

"No," I cut her off, smiling purposefully. "It actually sounds like a lot of fun. Tomorrow night, at seven, then."

"Okay, good!" We hugged quickly and she jetted down the stairs again, while I continued on to biology, where I knew I'd be sitting alone. Not even the thought of seeing Alice in gym later on could dispel my disappointment when I confirmed that Edward was not, in fact, going to mysteriously appear in his seat the way tended to do. I found myself hoping that he would be home Saturday night.