AN: Thank you to Judiri, BellaxoxEdward, oneiros lykos, barefootduchess, PinkPalmTree1989, cheesepuff311, Supernaturally Angelic, DemonTwins-Ichigo-Makuri, 4vr17Vi, heya, HorsecrazyJr., cRiMsOnGoDdEsS01 and barefootduchess for all of the reviews, alerts and favorites. Onto the next!
3. Bothered:
My next day at school was a lot better than the first...and a lot worse.
It was better because I actually knew where all of my classes were and what to expect from them. Jessica took up her seat beside me in English and Mike sat beside me in History so that I didn't have to worry about conversing with either him or Jessica for an hour. A small part of me wondered when either of them was going to ask the other out. The larger part of me simply didn't care. And my day was better because Isabella Cullen wasn't in school.
It was worse because I was dog-tired. It had rained even harder last night than it had on the first. I might have gotten about an hour of sleep, tops. It was worse because I was even clumsier in my fatigue. It was horrible because I had to play volleyball in Gym and ended up tripping on my shoelace and taking out two of my teammates as I fell. And it was worse because Isabella Cullen wasn't in school.
At lunch I had walked into the cafeteria with Mike and Jessica with every intention not to glance at the Cullen table. I failed miserably. As soon as I was through the door, my eyes zeroed in on the odd family. When I saw that Isabella wasn't with them, a tension that I hadn't realized was there eased from my shoulders. With that out of the way, I happily joined in with the useless chatter at Mike's table. Mike was talking about going to some local beach soon and I had been invited to come.
"It will be awesome, dude," Mike explained, "There's supposed to be this huge swell coming in with the good weather."
"It's been forever since we hit the waves," Eric joined in, "It's been too cold for surfing."
"Yeah, well, it will still be cold," Mike shrugged.
"But at least we'll have some sun to help keep us warm," Jessica beamed, "And we can bring food for a bonfire!"
"Do you think the native kids will come out?" Lauren asked in her haughty voice, "I swear one of them was eyeing me last time."
I rolled my eyes at her, "Where is this beach?"
"It's down on the Quileute reservation," Angela replied, "In La Push."
"So are you in, Edward?" Mike asked.
"Sure, I'll go," I shrugged, "But there is no way that I'm going surfing."
"Aw, c'mon," Eric chided, "Have you ever been?"
"No," I shook my head, "But it sounds to me like you need amazing coordination for that."
Mike shrugged and I leaned back in my chair. The Cullen table was just in my line of sight and I could clearly see all four of them. They were huddled close together, as if they were discussing something, though their lips never moved. Isabella still hadn't shown. At that moment, one of the girls looked up at me. It was the small one, the spiky one, Alice. She caught me looking and smiled at me before the blond caught her and nudged her in the side, making Alice look back down at the table. Huh. Looks like Blondie didn't like me either.
Walking to Biology that afternoon had been a challenge. I held an internal battle with myself the entire way, thinking about what I'd say to Isabella if she were there. I'd demand to know what her issue with me was and then I'd run away with my tail tucked between my legs in the same thought. There was absolutely no way that I could work up enough of a backbone to even say hello to her, much less confront her. I knew myself better than that. Still, it had been fun to imagine that I had even an ounce of bravery. Excuse me, Mr. Wizard, where do I sign up for some courage?
I exhaled audibly when I arrived to class to find my table empty. I was so happy to see that empty seat that I could have danced, which of course I didn't because that would have resulted in injury, mine and probably several of my classmate's. I sat in my seat and sighed with relief as Mr. Banner continued the lecture from the previous day. I happily took notes without worry of being glared at if I should chance a look out the window.
At the end of the day, and after I had finished my half-hour long mantra of apologies for the volleyball incident, I hurried from the locker room and into my fish-bowl car. I was eager to get home and start on my homework. I had an essay on Wuthering Heights due on Monday that I had to dig out of the farthest reaches of my room. As soon as I got to the house, I was surprised to see an ancient Chevy sitting in the driveway. I parked by the curb and made a hasty retreat for the porch. I let myself into the house with the key under the door mat and hung up my coat in the small closet off the stairs, shaking my hair to free it from the drizzle.
"Edward?" My mother's voice called from the kitchen.
"Yeah," I replied, "What's up, Mom?"
"Come on in here, baby, there's someone I want you to meet," she replied.
Feeling curious, I wandered toward the kitchen. Seated at the kitchen table was a girl about fifteen or sixteen with long, waving black hair. Her face was pretty and very angular with skin that was a lovely copper color. Her eyes were a bright, rich brown. Seated beside her in a wheelchair was a heavyset gentleman with a heavily lined face and rich russet skin. His hair was salt and pepper and kept back in a thick braid. They both looked very Native American. Perhaps they were from La Push where the beach that Mike had been talking about was located.
"Edward, this is Billy Black and his daughter Rachel," my mother said, "Billy was the one who sold me your car."
I started forward and took Billy's hand. He had a good grip on him. His black eyes never left my face and the weight of his gaze made me feel slightly uncomfortable. He looked at me as if he could see into the very depths of my soul. I suppressed a shudder as I turned toward his daughter. She smiled brightly at me as she took my hand. Wow, she had a good handshake, too.
"It's nice to meet you," I said.
"How are you liking the car, Edward?" Billy asked me in a deep, gruff voice.
"I love it, actually," I replied, "Thanks."
"No problem," he shook his head, "It used to be my son, Jacob's car, but he bought himself a new one when he went away to collage. And, seeing as how the thing still ran fine, I'd though I'd sell it."
"Well, I'm glad you did," I replied, lacking any other response.
"It was supposed to be my car," Rachel chimed in, her voice was clear and pretty, "But I wanted the Chevy outside more."
"She drove," Billy explained, "She loves that old truck."
"Aren't you a little young to be driving," I asked.
"No," Rachel replied hastily, "I'm fifteen. I'm old enough."
"Alright, sorry," I said, taking a step back, trying to make my escape toward my room.
"Where are you going?" My mother asked.
"Um, homework," I replied, "Anyway, it was nice to meet you two and thanks for the car!"
With that, I bolted for my room. I launched myself at my bed and began pulling out clear plastic containers full of old notebooks and binders. I shifted through some of my old poems and musical compositions, picking up one of my favorite tunes. It was Claire de Lune by Debussy, something I had learned in my sophomore year of high school. My father had bought the sheet music for me on my sixteenth birthday. I set the sheet music aside and continued to dig through my old papers, looking for the essay I needed.
"Holy crow, you have a lot of music," called a female voice from the door.
I looked up to see Rachel standing in the hallway, her eyes roaming over my CD collection. I turned bright red when I realized that my room was a mess and instantly grabbed up some dirty clothes that I had lying around, stuffing them under the bed, hastily.
"What are you doing up here?" I gaped at her.
"Oh, your mom said it was okay," Rachel replied, leaning through the door to take in more of the room, "What are you, a nerd or something?"
I glanced at the rows of books that she was looking at, "I like to read, is that a problem?"
"No," she smiled, "So can I come in or what?"
"You might as well," I replied, feeling less than accommodating.
She skipped merrily into my room and right over to my vast music collection. I let her look around, satisfied that none of my clothes were on display and went back to sifting through my papers.
"You like Muse?" she exclaimed.
"Obviously," I offered, not looking up from my task.
Jeez, did I have a void in this container or what? Where was that paper? I felt pressure on my bed and looked up to see Rachel holding one of my notebooks of poems. I snatched it from her hand and dropped it back on the bed. My action hadn't fazed her in the slightest. She reached for the Debussy piece and examined it.
"You play music?" she asked, handing the sheet music back to me when I held my hand open for it.
"Yes," I said, setting the sheet music on my bedside table so I wouldn't lose it in the melee, "Or at least I used to."
"What instrument do you play?" she continued.
"Um, piano and guitar," I answered.
"I wish I could play something," she said gently, "What are you looking for anyway?"
"An old essay," I said, leaning over the side of my bed to pull out another container.
"What for?" she asked, peering over my shoulder.
"I need it," I said, "What's with the twenty questions, kid?"
She shrugged, "I dunno, I'm bored and you seem like you need someone to talk to."
"Well, I really don't, but thanks anyway," I replied.
"You're kind of a jerk, did you know that?" she snapped, getting off my bed and walking toward the door.
I watched her go and mentally smacked myself. She was right. I was being a jerk. With a sigh, I dragged myself off my bed and stumbled after her. I managed to catch up to her before she made it into the kitchen.
"Hey, Rachel," I said, "I'm really sorry."
She stood on the gray throw rug with her arms crossed and her pretty face set into hard lines. I ran my hand through my hair and shifted uncomfortably on my feet. This was exactly why I didn't talk to girls. I always ended up saying something stupid.
"I was being a jerk," I repeated her phrase back to her, "But I really am sorry. Will you forgive me?"
I offered her what I hoped was a charming smile. She eyed me for a long moment before she dropped her arms.
"I guess I can," she replied, raising her head in a superior way, "But only if you play something for me."
"Like what, Muse?" I asked.
"No," she shook her head, sending her black hair over her shoulders, "I mean something you wrote."
"Um," I mumbled, "I haven't played in a while."
Four months, to be exact. When my father fell ill, I lost the will to play, except when he asked me to. I'd never refuse to play Claire de Lune for him when he asked me. It had been his favorite piece, after all.
"I'm sure you'll remember something," Rachel pressed. She was a stubborn thing.
"I guess I can try and play my guitar," I shrugged. I needed more practice at that, anyway.
"Sweet," Rachel punched the air and tore back up the stairs.
As I followed her, I racked my brain for anything that I might remember on guitar. I could only think of one song that I knew from memory. I wandered into my room and headed for my closet. I found my guitar case and gently pulled the acoustic guitar out, testing the strings for tune. I winced at how awful it sounded. Shows how long it's been since I played. I sat on my bed and tuned the guitar, turning the pegs gently. I played a few experimental chords and pronounced the guitar tuned.
"I only know one song from memory," I informed Rachel, who was bouncing on the edge of my bed with excitement, "I'm not entirely sure that it's appropriate, either."
"Please," Rachel rolled her eyes, "I listen to Marilyn Manson."
"Alright then," I shook my head with a slight smile, "A little Radiohead should be no problem."
And with that, I set off into the acoustic version of Creep. I really should have warmed up before I sang, though. I was so out of practice with everything. Rachel didn't seem to mind my raspy interpretation. She watched with a huge smile on her face as I strummed out the notes. As I played, Isabella Cullen's face flashed behind my closed eyes. Her pale white skin and onyx eyes, the lovely mahogany spill of her hair filled the void behind my eyes. I hit a sour note as I thought about the death glare she had given me and opened my eyes at once. Rachel was frowning up at me and I shook my head to try and dislodge the image that had made me mess up.
"Are you okay," Rachel asked, "You went all pale."
"I'm fine," I answered, "Sorry."
"It's okay," Rachel said, though she was still looking at me as if she were afraid I'd puke.
"Rach," called the deep voice of Billy from downstairs, "C'mon, kid, lets get home."
"'Kay," she called back.
She stood up and gave me another worried glance, "Um, thanks for playing for me. You're amazing."
"Thanks," I smiled, "It was nice to meet you, really. I'm sorry for being a jerk earlier."
"It's okay," she beamed, "We should hang out again sometime."
"Sure," I smiled back.
"Rach!" Billy called again.
"Bye," she waved and then she disappeared down the stairs.
I sat on the edge of my bed with my guitar still in hand and tried to explain to myself why Isabella had popped up in my head. I found no reasonable explanation and put my guitar away. I cleaned up the mess of papers on my bed and began my search for my essay again until dinner. Elizabeth and I ate in silence for a moment.
"How did you like Rachel?" she asked around a forkful of salad.
I shrugged, "She's cool."
"I heard you playing guitar," Mom smiled, "You're pretty good."
"Thanks," I said, chasing a cherry tomato around my plate with my fork, "I'm better at piano, though."
We lapsed into another silence as I continued to play with my food. For some reason, I wasn't very hungry. Maybe it was because I was being glared at every time I closed my eyes. I'm sure that had nothing to do with it at all. Elizabeth leaned against the table with her chin on her hand, staring at me. I fought not to squirm under the weight of her gaze.
"Edward, is something bothering you," she asked.
"No," I lied.
She quirked her eyebrow at me and I caved.
"It's just this...er, girl at school," Crap. I knew which direction this was about to take as soon as the words left my mouth.
"Oh," my mother's face brightened as she sat up in her chair, "Do you like a girl at school, hun? Tell me about her! What's her name?"
"I don't like her, Mom," I ammended but I could see that the damage had already been done so I pressed on, "Uh, her name is Isabella Cullen. Do you know anything about her?"
"Bella?" my mother's smile widened, as if it were possible, "Dr. Cullen's daughter?"
"I think so," I nodded, "She sits with four other kids. They're all pretty pale...and good looking?"
"Yep, that's them," my mother nodded, "You should see the doctor! Too bad he's happily married or I'd..."
"Mom!" I interrupted loudly.
"Right, sorry," she replied but she still had a distant look in her eyes, "Bella is a sweet girl. She comes into my shop quite a bit. She's something of a budding artist and boy, can that girl paint!"
So my mom knew her. Weird. I stared at my baked potato in silence.
"Actually," my mother pressed, "I think you two would get along really well."
I winced as Isabella's glaring eyes flashed through my head.
"Anyway, they're a good group of kids," she continued, "They never get into a speck of trouble and they keep to themselves, which is a shame. I'm sure they'd make a lot of friends if they just opened up a little more. Of course, I suppose it's hard when you move to a new town every couple of years. We're lucky that Dr. Cullen's wife likes it here and that she wanted to stay until the kids finish school."
"Oh," I said, forcing myself to take a bite of steak.
"Why?" Mom asked, that sly smile on her face.
"I was just curious," I shrugged, "Isabella is my lab partner at school."
"You should talk to her, Edward," she insisted, "I mean it. You're such a withdrawn boy...it worries me, a little."
So that's why Rachel had been sent up to my room. The plot thickens.
"I choose to be this way, Mom," I said, "There's no need for concern, I promise."
"Still, you should talk to her," she repeated, "You'd do each other good."
I rolled my eyes and forced another forkful of food down my throat.
That night, I managed to get to sleep quickly through a break in the rain. The rest of my week flew by, too and Isabella still didn't show up at school. Maybe she dropped out to pursue a career in modeling or something like that. Lord knows that she could have done it easily. It wasn't until Monday that my happy little reality shattered.
It had begun like any other day. I showed up at school and greeted the students I knew. Jessica sat beside me in English and tired to copy my answers on the Wuthering Heights quiz we had. Mike and Jess talked each other to death in History and I could almost swear I saw them holding hands at one point. It had begun to snow while we were in class and I made a face as we walked outside. Mike was immediately hit in the face by a snowball and I ducked for cover. We never had much snow in Scottsdale and whenever we did, it had always been a light dusting that melted fairly quickly, but still, I didn't care for it much.
I managed to make it into the cafeteria without getting hit by the flying mush balls once. Score for me...and then immediately lose that point. There, sitting at the usual table sat Isabella Cullen. She was laughing with her family, brushing snow from her shoulder while Emmett tossed a fresh snowball at his brother. Jasper shook his head at Alice who was leaning away from him with a disgusted look on her face.
Mike and Jessica appeared at my side then, laughing hysterically. I lowered my gaze to the floor and followed them to the line. I picked up a bottle of orange juice and wandered over to our table, keeping my eyes fixed on my destination. I sat with my back facing the Cullens so that I wouldn't accidentally look at them. Crap. What was I going to do in Biology? I sipped at my orange juice until the bell rang and then I trudged out of the cafeteria with all of the poise of a man faced with the electric chair. This was absurd. I shouldn't be afraid to go to class.
As I made my way toward the Biology room, my palms started to sweat. Stupid, calm down. She was only a girl for crying out loud. An amazingly beautiful, possibly homocidal girl, but still. As I walked into the room, I sighed with relief to find my table empty yet again. Hazaa, I was in the clear!
I sat at the table while Mr. Banner passed out microscopes and a box of slides. I pulled out my notebook and began to doodle on the blank page, and broke the lead of my pencil when I heard the chair next to me scrape against the floor. I didn't look up from the page, though, determined to keep drawing.
"Hello," called a sweet, gentle voice.
I looked up, startled, to see Isabella Cullen looking at me. I looked behind me, thinking that maybe she were talking to someone else. There was no one else there save the lab partners at the next desk who were more interested in making out than the slides on their desk. I turned back to face the girl beside me, swallowing hard. I immediately noticed that there was something different about her. Her pale complexion was slightly flushed and the bruise-like color under her eyes had gone. And her eyes, they were a soft gold. But I was sure they had been black as night before...Hadn't they? She must have gotten contacts or something.
"You're Edward Masen, correct," she inquired in her lilting voice.
I gaped at her with a nod, "Isabella Cullen?"
"Bella, actually," she replied with a soft smile, "I do hope you'll forgive my rash behavior last week, I wasn't feeling myself."
"How did you know my name?" I asked, feeling like a complete moron.
She offered me that winning smile again, "I know your mother. I come into her shop a lot and we get to talking. She was very excited about your arrival here."
"Oh," I said.
Mr. Banner saved me from any further reply by giving us the instructions for our lab. Fortunately, I had already done the exact same lab back in Arizona so it would be a breeze for me to do today. He finished explaining and commanded us to start working.
"Would you like to begin?" Bella asked me.
"Ladies first," I replied, trying my best to smile without looking like an idiot.
She smiled at me again as she reached for the microscope and quickly and efficiently adjusted it to the 40X objective. She pulled the first slide from the box and examined it for a mere second.
"Prophase," she announced, picking up her pencil and writing it into the worksheet in neat, elegant handwriting.
"Er, can I have a peek?" I asked.
"Of course," she smiled again, "How rude of me, here."
She slid the microscope over to me and I reached for it. My hand brushed against hers and I jerked it back with a sharp intake of breath. Her hands were like ice but that's not what made me draw back. When our skin had touched, it felt like I had been shocked. She pulled her hand away and hid it under the table.
"Sorry," she replied softly.
"No problem," I replied, peering into the lens of the microscope. She had been right.
As soon as I had taken my turn, she switched the slide on me. I looked at her and she quirked her perfect eyebrow at me, silently gesturing for me to look. I pressed my eye to the lens and looked.
"Anaphase," I pronounced.
She kept her hands under the table so I pushed the microscope her way. She glanced at if for a fraction of a second before her perfect lips quirked up in the corners and she wrote the answer in the correct space. The rest of the lab progressed much the same way with each of us taking a turn but she never brought her hands from their clasped position under the table. We were done in no time. Mr. Banner walked by with a frown when he saw that we weren't working anymore.
"Isabella, did you even allow Mr. Masen to have a turn?" he inquired of her.
She smiled pleasantly at him, "Actually, sir, he identified most of them."
Mr. Banner looked at me then and I squirmed in my seat.
"I already did this lab before," I fessed up.
"Ah," Mr. Banner nodded, as if that explained everything. It kind of made me mad, "Well, just...read the next chapter of your text books or something."
And then he wandered off muttering something about being glad that we were lab partners and advanced placement programs. Bella had already taken out her text book and opened it to the next chapter, but she wasn't reading it. Instead, she was staring at me. I could feel her gaze like a physical weight. I tried not to look at her and failed. She had a perplexed and slightly annoyed look on her face as she stared at me. Now I was sure of it. Her eyes were a different color.
"Do you wear contacts?" I blurted out without thinking.
Her face fell for an instant and then she blinked at me, "No, why do you ask?"
"Your eyes are a different color," I replied.
She smiled then and I swallowed hard, "You pay attention to the color of my eyes?"
"Uh, obviously not very well," I offered, feeling heat in my cheeks.
She laughed then and it was a musical sound, like wind chimes in an autumn breeze.
"It must be the fluorescent lighting or something," she replied.
"Must be," I agreed quietly.
A silence stretched between us and I tried to stop staring at her. She, on the other hand, made no such effort. She continued to gaze at me as if she were trying very hard to X-Ray my brain. I think I was starting to feel it smoke from the force of her scrutiny. I gave up in my futile efforts not to look at her and raked my brain for any topic of conversation.
"So, my mom said you were a painter," I offered.
"I am," she nodded, her mouth smiled but her eyes stayed the same shade of frustrated, "And I hear that you are quite musically inclined."
I went red in the face again. Damn my mother and her bragging to complete strangers! Bella swallowed hard and looked away from me for a moment as she closed her eyes. I frowned at her. I hope she wasn't about to throw up or anything. She opened her eyes again and looked at me once more.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Of course," she replied.
Another long, uncomfortable pause filled by her unrelenting attempt to bore a hole through my head with her eyes.
"Why did you come to Forks, Edward?" she asked with a near forceful determination.
I felt my jaw unhinge slightly at the blunt question. Surely my mother must have mentioned why I was coming to live with her. I'm sure she had to have done. How else would the receptionist have known? Bella stared at me with a face that demanded an answer but then she looked away again, frowning.
"Forgive me," she shook her head, not meeting my eyes for once, "I had no right to ask you that."
What I wanted to say was that she was right, that she didn't have the right to ask such a personal question of someone whom she had been very rude to on the first day she met them, but what came out was...
..."My father died."
Her head snapped up and her honey eyes went wide, "I'm so sor..."
"Don't," I stopped her, "Don't apologize. I hate it when people do that."
She nodded. Her face had softened, lost its demanding edge, even her eyes seemed less intent. She didn't speak to me again that period and she even stopped staring but I found myself wanting to talk to her, wanting to tell her how much I hated it here and how I wished that I didn't have to stay but I kept my mouth shut and just sat at the table, staring at the faux marble table top until the bell rang and, just like last Monday, Bella flew out of the room before anyone else had time to breathe.
I stared after her at an utter loss. What the hell was wrong with that chick? Was she bipolar or something? Her mood swings were amazing. Surely she couldn't still be on the rag. Mike collected me for Gym and I followed him wordlessly. During Gym, I was only there in body, mentally I was still in Biology, trying to figure out what had just happened. It was a good thing that my team had decided to make me stand in the corner of the court after last weeks disastrous game so my lack of mental presence wasn't noticed.
As I walked out to the parking lot, I caught a glimpse of Bella standing by her blue-green Aston Martin. She stared at me as I dropped the key to my car in a puddle. I refused to look in her direction until I was safely inside my car with the blush of embarrassment fading. She was shaking her head and laughing as the tiny pixie girl was sliding into the passenger seat of Bella's car. I stayed in my car until I saw the Cullens drive away and only when I was sure that they were gone did I start the engine and head for home.
AN: Sorry about that guys! At least this one is really long. How did you like Rachel? And what about Bella?
