CH. 4 – Changes
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"I think we need to pregame," Mike suggests as we get in my car.
Once again, I'm driving. I don't think I've even had the option. The first time they got plastered at a party, I had driven. I didn't drink and it kinda became this thing. And now they expect it.
I maneuver the foggy streets to the liquor store, the one by Ben's house. They won't recognize me on this side of town. Ben lives like two minutes from Kennedy High School, where my sister goes. He chose to go to Riverside High because that's where all of us were going. His parents were less than pleased, and tried to force him to go to Kennedy but he threw up in the principal's office during orientation. There's some discussion on whether or not he really initiated the vomiting himself. He claims it was self-induced. I'm skeptic.
The guys give me cash and I head into the store. I'm the tallest and have a decent amount of facial hair. I rarely get carded.
I grab a twelve pack of Coors and six bags of CornNuts and set my shit on the counter. There's this tweeker chick working the register and she doesn't look at me the entire transaction. Sweet.
Once I'm back in the car, they guys polish off the twelve pack and I crunch as loud as I want.
We all plan to crash at Mike's house because his mom is pretty cool. She owns this organic health food store here in town. She's always trying to get us to try like wheat grass pancakes or almond platypus milk. Really weird shit. But she smokes a lot of weed which makes her inept at determining the degree of intoxication of others.
Plus, if anyone gets all vomity, they can just walk to Mike's.
I park at the Hale's and I feel like I'm in some alternate universe or something. I've fantasized about this moment every day for the past three years.
The two-story house looks silent and I'm wondering if this is a hoax. A ploy to make an ass out of Jake. It wouldn't be the first time.
Once the front door opens, all doubt is removed. The house is a seething mass of flesh and hormones, grinding and swaying to the thump of a heavy drum beat and badass guitar riff. Mike looks at me, the proud look of accomplishment on display.
"Dude, can you believe this shit?" he says under his breath.
We talk about crashing these parties all the time. We've imagined glorious displays of grandeur, like real glasses instead of plastic cups and little appetizers with toothpicks in them instead of pretzels. We've listed the people we would piss off and cuss out, all on the premise that we're too intoxicated to be held accountable for our outrageously judgmental behavior. It's fueled by a desperate jealousy.
Now that I'm here, though, it's just another party. Same kids. Same beer. Same music. I think Eric Yorkie's even wearing the same sweater, yellow with black stripes. It's his Charlie Brown sweater.
This, however, is not the same house. And this is not the same girl. Rosalie is in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, drinking a pop. She's wearing a tight black skirt and heels, with a bright blue fuzzy sweater. Her honey hair hangs in long curls and is held back by a silky scarf. And I'm still wearing my band uniform pants.
She's surrounded by a force field of friends. Lauren's hanging on Tyler's arm and Emmett's talking to her about something. She's laughing, clearly the center of the conversation.
This was a dumb idea.
Jake, Mike and Ben file in behind me and make their way toward the makeshift ice chest in the sink. They grab drinkage and they're on the move.
I grab a can of Dr. Pepper and follow, avoiding Rosalie's line of sight because my stomach is all knotted up. I need recovery time before I speak to her. You know, so I won't make myself look like an asshole.
The lower level of the house is laid out like a big circle; every room leads to the next. People I've known for years and those I've never seen before mill and migrate, like a turbulent vortex of social interaction. I lose sight of Jake but keep following the flow of traffic, figuring I'll just catch up with him at some point. Instead, I'm intercepted by a waifish smart ass with rainbow hair and black eyeliner.
She has to be drunk. Or high. Or both. Bella Hale is literally climbing the walls. Her bare feet are pressed into either side of an arched doorway. She's at least five feet off the ground hovering in the arch like a micro-ninja or something. She's steadying herself by gripping the lip of the frame and she seems to be searching for something. Or someone.
"Oh! Edward!" she shouts and jumps down from her elevated position. She snakes through the crowd, like a black mamba and I'm a trapped rat. Next stop, paralysis.
"Hey," she pounces, breathless. "I'm looking for someone but crowds are like kryptonite for the vertically challenged."
"Ah, that's kind of like the compact car conundrum," I say. "Do you how hard it is to drive with your knees in your chest?"
"Well, you have a chance to put all that legroom to good use." She taps my knee with her foot. She might be trying to kick me. "Could you maybe scan the crowd from way up there? I can't find my sister."
"She's in the kitchen," I say. "I just saw her."
"Cool," she says and punches my shoulder. "Thanks, Edward."
"Don't mention it," I mutter but she's already slithering away through the horde.
I finally find Jake and Ben outside and they're already three sheets. Ben's such a lightweight. All Jake has to do is breathe on him and he passes out.
"Where's Mike?" I ask as Jake proceeds to pound another Coors and crush the can. I don't know how they can drink that shit.
"He's with Jessica. They might be killing each other," Ben says and then Jake burps in my face and rubs his belly.
"Since when are you friends with Bella Hale? I saw you talking to her. She's a fucking piece, man. I heard she's a freak in the sack. Introduce me! Or are you going to tap that?" Jake slurs and his eyes are half-closed.
"We're not friends. I had Saturday school with her last weekend. And no, I am not going to tap that." Jake smells like beer and bean and cheese burrito. I'd hate to be his toilet.
"Hook me up! You just have to provide the introduction. I'll do the rest myself."
"If we happen to see her again, I'll introduce you. But I'm not going to track Bella down just to burden her with your antics."
"Antics? What are you, eighty?" Jake laughs and I roll my eyes. "Just hook a brother up, dude."
"If we see her," I say. And as if it were scripted in a cheesy melodrama, Bella walks out the fucking door. She's wearing her big poofy coat and smoking a joint with her curly, red-headed friend whom I've nicknamed The Giggler. And she put on boots, thank God.
Jake looks at me, like a five year old in a candy store and I force an exhale. White fog floats around my face as I try to figure out what the hell I'm going to say to her. Hey, my buddy wants to bum rush you doesn't seem like something that would tickle Bella's fancy.
"Bella," I call out to her and Jake's practically salivating. Bella and The Giggler mosey over to where we've congregated.
"Masen the Trumpeter," Bella announces. Apparently, I'm not the only one who appoints nicknames. We're standing under this big oak, the skeleton of a tree stripped free by inclement weather. She tries to pass the joint to The Giggler but Jake intercepts the bud.
"Hey," I nod, unsure as how to proceed. "Great party."
"Thanks, but it's not really mine. My sister's the popular one, not me." I hate it when people dispute compliments. It just makes me feel stupid for saying something nice to them.
Jake elbows me in the rib. I'm a bit disturbed he's standing so close that he can poke me with his elbow.
"So, this is my buddy, Jake. He was wondering who does your landscaping. He really loves the layout of your backyard." I can't even say it with a straight face because Jake looks like he wants to punch me. It doesn't matter though, Bella's thrilled.
"Really? I have a vegetable garden on the side of the house. Do you want to see it?" she asks. She grabs Jake's arm and drags him away.
"So you're into gardening, huh?" I hear him say.
"Yep. Remind me to show you the plants in my closet," Bella retorts and it's a match made in heaven.
Ben abandons me for The Giggler and Mike's nowhere to be found. I'm surrounded by people, yet completely alone. I circle inside the house, trying to catch a glimpse of Rosalie but I can't find her so I park myself on a fake wicker lounge chair outside. This party has become a "run down the clock" situation. Just me an my Dr. Pepper. Two girls in miniskirts walk outside for a cigarette and they cross their arms and bitch about how cold it is. Lauren and Tyler come out onto the porch to fight and then spend ten minutes having a gropefest. None of them notice me. Being invisible has its perks.
Jake and Bella eventually step outside for air. I can practically smell their intoxication. Bella whispers something to Jake and then hits him in the stomach. They're giggling and Jake keeps putting his hand on her ass. She doesn't seem to mind.
Jake pulls her in close and pushes her rainbow hair from her face and she has stars in her eyes. He leans down and kisses her and the inexplicable happens.
Rage. I want to hit him. In the face.
It's not that I'm jealous of Jake. I wouldn't want to be him for anything in the world. I'm just disgusted by how easily people fall for his shenanigans. Even smart, semi-scary people, like Bella Hale.
I'm sure she can handle herself.
But still, I feel like I should save her from him or something.
Just then, Ben barges through the slider and Mike's right behind him. They plop down on the lounge chair next to me. Ben's glassy-eyed and drinking Jameson, which can only mean one thing. The Giggler shot him down.
"Rough night?" I ask him. He takes another swig from the bottle and then wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater. He looks over at Bella and Jake sucking face over by the slider and he's just appalled.
"How does he do that?" he asks, exasperated.
I shrug, and he offers me the bottle out of courtesy. He knows I'll never accept it.
"No thanks," I say and raise up my can of cola. He nods and hands it to Mike. Mike drinks and then looks over his shoulder. I hate it when he smokes weed. He gets so damn paranoid.
"I forgot. Ed-DD. Always sober, all the time. That's brave, man, to live through high school completely straight. How do you do it?" Ben says and Mike's leg won't stop shaking.
"It's not a big deal. I find other outlets for my dissension," I reply. Like shooting zombies or racing million dollar sports cars. And porn. Lots of porn.
"What, like reading the dictionary?" he laughs and I shrug. I appreciate a good vocabulary.
"Edward!" Jake's yelling at me from under that big oak. Bella's bent over and I'm thinking she might be puking but then I see her throw her head back. She's laughing and balance has become an issue.
"Edward, I need your expertise," Jake yells again so I walk over to see what he needs. Probably something dumb. Mike follows. I'm sure he thinks we're going to talk shit about him.
"Edward," he says again and I'm starting to hate my own name. "Bella, do you know my buddy Edward here?"
"Not intimately," Bella snorts.
"Did you know my buddy Edward here has a huge boner for a certain lady whose sister is standing in our general vicinity?"
"Jesus, Jake!" I mumble and pull at my hair. I want to disappear. I expect them to laugh, bust a gut at my expense but the only one laughing is Jake. I look up and she's staring at me. I cannot for the life of me read the expression on her face. Is she intrigued? Confused? Sympathetic? I don't get it.
"Did you know if you spill hot oil on polyester pants, they'll adhere to your skin?" Bella says and it takes me a minute to comprehend. I look down at my navy band pants. I forgot I was still wearing them.
"I'll make sure to change before I do any oil boiling," I snark. It's rude and I expect Bella to scoff and whip her head around in disgust. Instead, she smiles, the side of her mouth twitched up in a grin.
"I always do," she says and it's my turn to grin. Jake pulls out a blunt this time, weed rolled in brown paper. He lights and drags and he's passing to Bella but she refuses. Instead she's trying to grab one of the naked branches above us.
"Need a lift?" Jake asks. He passes to Mike and then his hands are making indentations in her poofy jacket.
"I used to climb this tree all the time," she says as she finally grasps the lowest branch. She hangs and then immediately drops, dusting her hands off on her corduroy pants. "I also used to have a lot more upper body strength."
I drink my soda and blow puffs of fog into the cold air. Ben wanders over to us and points at Bella, accusing.
"What the hell's wrong with your friend, man?" he slurs. It's time to cut him off.
"Victoria?" Bella laughs and I'm wondering if there's anything that offends this girl. "She's a bitch, huh?"
Ben's unsure of what to make of this odd creature before him. She confuses him too. I'm glad it's not just me.
"Well, she's not very nice, if that's what you mean." He's a polite bastard, even when he's pissed and plastered.
"Yeah, she's got anger issues. Plus, her asshole boyfriend just broke up with her. She's contemplating lesbianism," Bella says.
"With you?" Ben asks, exasperated.
"Would that bother you?" she responds, her hands on her hips.
"No-no, of course not. Gays are great," Ben stutters. Bella pats him on the head and he looks like a scolded puppy.
"Oh honey, there's no such thing as gays," Bella remarks and Mike's staring down the grass.
"Wow, how open-minded of you," I say curtly. Mostly because I want Mike to know I'm cool with his gaydom.
"There's no such thing as straight, either." Bella's unaffected by my comment and I can tell she can't be goaded into explanation.
"What?" Mike says.
"Labels are binding and demand a certain expectation of behavior. Why do we have to be one or the other? Can't we just be?" Bella asks.
"It's a nice idea, Bella. But the rest of the world doesn't work that way," Mike says quietly.
"Change has to start somewhere. And it usually starts with those of us who choose to reject the status quo." Bella kisses Mike on the cheek.
Mike inhales. I mean really breathes. Something happens in that moment and it's stunning. I've known Mike my entire life and this chick soothes his soul with some two second existential testimonial.
Jake butts into the conversation and like everything, turns it into an opportunity for inappropriateness.
"Bella, if you're questioning your sexuality, I'd be willing to help you experiment."
"I'm sure I'd have plenty of suitors," Bella says and her dark eyes are on me. She's staring again and this time I'm uncomfortable for a whole other reason.
"Dude, this heavy shit is bringing me down. Let's play cards. Shit on your Neighbor Or Fuck the Dealer." Jake nods at Bella. "You got cards?"
"Uno momento," she says before she prances inside. It reminds me of sixth period Spanish with Rosalie.
"I'll be back," I announce and Jake tosses his roach into my Dr. Pepper. I guess I was finished with that anyway.
"You gonna go get your girl?" Jake asks and I shrug.
"I'm just gonna..." I trail off because he knows where I'm going. Even before I do. He gives me a bro hug, and wishes me luck. I don't really have a plan in place, but I don't think luck will have anything to do with it.
But this is my chance. It has to be. Seeing her sister at Saturday school, the tutoring, Jake finding that Victoria chick outside smoking. That's way too many coincidences. Something huge is going to happen tonight.
I head to the kitchen, searching for a trash can, and like a sign from the heavens above, Rosalie walks into the room. She's alone, holding a dozen empty cups. She opens a cupboard and trashes the cups. There's the fucking trash can. I hate it when people hide their trash cans in cupboards. It's so demeaning.
She opens the fridge. Her cheeks are pink against her ivory skin, like a fricking Disney princess or something. She finds a bottle of beer and is trying to get the cap off so I swoop on the opportunity.
"Here, let me get that for you," I say and Rosalie practically jumps.
"Oh my word! You scared me," she says and then laughs. I smile and pop off the cap. I hand her back the bottle and her eyes are soft.
"It's not mine," she says, nodding towards the beer.
"I didn't think it was," I shrug and she beams.
"How's Calculus been? Any better?" she asks and I'm just ecstatic she even remembers me.
"Oh, loads. It's like a whole new world, that class. You should see me, I'm calculating slopes and graphing functions and stuff..." I trail off.
There's this little hot dog magnet on the fridge. You can pull the wiener out of the bun and put it back together. Completely grotesque. I can't keep my hands off it. I keep popping the hot dog out of the bun. Every time I do it, it clicks.
"My uncle got that for me when he was in Coney Island. It's ridiculous but Bella won't let my mom toss it," Rose laughs.
Now. Do it now, while she's laughing. How bad can it be if she's smiling?
"Hey, Rose. I know you don't really date but do you think maybe you'd like to see a movie with me or something?" I ask.
She looks down. It's not going to fly. My face starts burning even before the words are out of her mouth.
"I'd really like that, Edward," she says.
Oh, Jesus the sweet relief. It's short-lived, though because she quickly adds: "I'd really like to be your friend."
Friend.
It's okay. She could not want to be my anything.
"Cool," I say and make a break for the back door. "See you around."
"Monday!" she calls behind me and I give her a wave.
That could have been worse. She didn't completely shut me down. Could be counted as a success, right?
Shit, why did I bail? Now she's going to think I'm scared or weird or something. Why couldn't I just be cool about it, act like that's all that I want too? Friends. That's how the best relationships start, right? Friends.
I head back outside and Jake, Mike and Bella are playing Fuck the Dealer. They've been throwing back vodka shots and they're completely plastered. To my surprise, Ben's making out with the Giggler bitch on one of the lounge chairs.
"Edward! We need a fourth!" Jake calls and I take my time walking over to them. Bella's doing a pretty good job of controlling her limbs but Mike's toasted and letting it all hang out.
"This girl…" he says and points his finger at Bella, throwing his arm around her shoulders. "This girl is fucking amazing. I'm gonna marry her."
Bella snorts and she and Mike erupt into fits of laughter. Then Bella gasps.
"Let's do it! Right now!" Bella says. "Edward, you can be the wedding speech giver or whatever he's called."
"The priest?" I ask, confused and they burst into giggles again.
"But you don't have a bouquet. Or a garter," Mike says. "What will you throw after the ceremony?"
"Throw your bra," Jake suggests.
"I've used my bra as a slingshot before," Bella says. "No lie."
Who would lie about that?
"What? That's not even possible. Physically speaking, of course." Jake's got ulterior motives here, I can tell. I've seen that look in his eye before.
"Are you calling me a liar?" Bella scoffs.
"Prove it," he whispers in her face and she chews her lip.
"Fine," she spits and stands up. She takes off her coat and her shirt underneath is really thin. She's going to get sick, I just know it.
She reaches under the front of her shirt and unclasps her bra, her eyes fixed on Jake the whole time. I've never really thought about it before, but bras that clasp in the front are kind of hot.
"Bella, you don't have to." I'm starting to feel slightly uncomfortable about this whole thing.
"Shut up, Edward. Not a big deal." She smiles at Jake as she pulls the straps off her shoulders and through the sleeves. Once her bra's off, she quickly zips her coat in place and is MacGyvering a sling shot out of the stretchy blue fabric. She picks up a small rock, pulls back and launches the object into the air.
"See?" she says smugly and before it can be stopped, Jakes snatches the bra from her hand.
"I want to try," he says. He sounds like a five year old.
Bella motions to him to be her guest and he searches for a small rock to shoot. When he's found an object that will suffice, he positions the rock, pulls back and shoots.
It drops to the ground with a thud right by his feet. Failure to launch. Mike and Bella laugh hysterically and I can't help but join in.
I'm thinking Jake will laugh with us, but he's pissed. He throws the bra high in the air, right into that oak. It snags on a branch and there it stays.
"Fuck!" Bella shouts. "You have to get that down."
"Why? I think it's awesome! For years, you'll look up there and remember me." Jake laughs but Bella's throwing a fit.
"You have to get it down. That's my sister's bra. She'll kill me if she finds out I borrowed it."
Holy shit, that piece of fabric has touched Rosalie's tits.
"I'll get it," I say and Jake laughs hysterically. Bella's silent but her eyes might as well be screaming at me. I don't like how she stares, like she's figuring me out.
It doesn't take me long to scale the tree. I grab the bra, the soft fabric is stretchy and thick. Huh, there sure is a lot of padding in this thing.
Bella's watching with squinted eyes so I toss the bra down to her. She fumbles to catch it, but it's intercepted by Jake. He runs and Bella chases, their little game an obvious outlet for massive amounts of sexual tension.
I move my hand to a lower branch and I'm about to step down when I see a flash of movement on the side of the house. It's a small enclosed area and I remember Bella mentioned a garden. This must be what she was talking about.
There's someone over there. I climb a little higher and peer through the bare branches.
Shit, it's two someones. And I'm pretty sure they're fucking.
I lean down and try to make out the faces but all I can see is the back of the dude's head and the top of his white ass glowing like a fucking beacon. He's a big guy, tall and completely shadowing whatever he's thrusting into.
It's like a train wreck. I know it's weird to stare but my curiosity is persistent. Who is that?
Whoever it is, they're awful quiet. Not that I have a ton of experience with sex, but I've watched a lot of it.
The guy grabs her leg and a pair of hands wrap around his shoulders and then slide up the back of his neck. He presses his face into a shoulder and I might just get a glimpse of her face. I inch further out on the branch, as far as I can without being seen.
A little closer. Just a little…
I can see her. Honey hair and luminescent skin.
Rosalie. My Rosalie. My sweet, virginal Rosalie who doesn't date and is saving herself for marriage. Or politics.
Maybe he's hurting her. Maybe she can't fight him off. Maybe she needs me to save her.
Maybe I'm delusional.
I can't breathe. I try to steady myself but my hands won't stop shaking. My foot slips, and the branch is so cold it's making my fingers throb.
This cannot be happening.
Oh God, it's spinning. The tree, the dotted sky, the damp grass below. It's all spinning and I don't know which way to climb anymore. I keep seeing her. Eyes closed, mouth open, a fog around her face. Her fingers digging into his neck, her leg hitched around his hip.
Oh God, I'm going to be sick.
The sky disappears, blades of grass grow larger and larger and then I'm absorbed. The earth slams against every cell in my body, my head flings back and there's pain.
Daggers shoot through my shoulder, my neck snaps like a rubber band against a naughty wrist. It's all dulled by the ache in my chest.
Fire washes over me and then I freeze, icy coagulation in my veins. My heart fights to force the fluid through my organs and then it escapes, the gash in my scalp creating a path of least resistance.
How long I lay there with thick jellied blood, I don't know. It feels like years.
"Edward?"
That voice. She's probably staring at me right now. At the blood pooling around my ear, at the obscene twist of bone and flesh. Trying to figure me out from the inside.
"Edward! Oh my God, Edward, wake up! Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." She's bossing me around and I don't appreciate it.
Then there's warmth. Heat radiates around my fingers and up into my elbow and I jerk my arm away.
"He's conscious," she says. "Call 911!"
It's getting louder and the warmth is spreading, a slow wildfire now in my face and then my neck.
"You're not supposed to move the body."
"For Christ sake, he's not dead, Jake."
"Put this under his head."
My head rests on a cottony cloud and I let myself float. Her touch is a life vest, the squeeze tethering me to reality as I drift between consciousnesses. It doesn't hurt anymore, not really. I'm numb.
Not bad for a crash landing.
…
A/N:
So not exactly the time of his life we were expecting, huh? I can't wait to hear your thoughts! I'm really trying to respond to reviews but ffn is fucking pissing me off with this new format. So I apologize if I don't get to reply. It means I got fed up with the all the clicking bullshit and had to take a step away from the computer. But I love your comments and I want to kiss all your faces.
Boo prereads and Lightstardusting beta's like a Christmas miracle.
Thank you for reading!