Chapter 4
We are bound by the secrets we share.
– Zoe Heller
By Monday morning, Ben and Angela are an item, and it'd be sweet enough to gag me, if it weren't two of my new friends. Angela seemed happy but quiet before, and now she just seems to … glow. She and Ben can't keep their eyes off each other, and they both blush beet red every time their gazes meet. I wonder if that's what hot flashes feel like during menopause?
Oh, who the fuck am I kidding? I know deep down I'm jealous. My only real affection for guys has been one-sided. I have no idea what it feels like to have those feelings returned and responded to. But she's so damn happy, it rubs off on The Gothlet and me, and we both grin and roll our eyes every time we see them.
But there's one person who certainly isn't grinning at them. The Gothlet and I sit behind Angela in calculus, and she elbows me as we sit down. "Hey, I heard Newton is so pissed at Angela that he punched a dent into his locker."
"Why?" I ask, glancing toward where he sits glowering at the front board.
"My guess is because she embarrassed him by making a scene on Friday night. He always gets what he wants," The Gothlet says, shrugging.
"What about Bu—um, Jessica?"
"Oh, she's his, but he kinda does what he wants, you know? Most of the popular guys are like that, or at least, they try to be."
I can't help but let my eyes fall on Gorgeous, sitting just behind Ken doll. He doesn't have a girlfriend—does that mean he just gets what he wants when he wants it too?
Gorgeous has been quiet all morning, and when I sit down beside him in biology, he shoots me the side-eye, his cheeks flushing a delicious pink, but that's all I get. No looks, no conversation. And although he still looks clit-throbbingly … well, gorgeous, I'm more focused on studying the non-sexual aspects of him at the moment.
I consider myself a pretty good judge of people, and there have been three instances now where he hasn't done what I expected: after Angela talked back to him, the way he tried to be nice to me in class last week, and then not jumping into the fight on Friday night. There's something … different about him, and it's more than just that he's the hottest specimen of the male species I've ever seen. He's a mystery, and I guess I'm just going to have to ogle and learn.
The silent treatment continues all week, so I just watch him. I watch him pal around with Jasper and be shamelessly hit on by Resting Bitch Face. I watch him bully guys younger and older as Ken doll's wingman and make crass remarks to girls. I watch how he smiles, but it never seems to reach those piercing green eyes of his. And I watch how the eyes of half the girls in the school seem to follow him, but his eyes seems to shy away from mine. Intriguing.
Friday comes around, and once again, we're forced to speak to one another. Our lab is "characteristics of life," and we have to walk around the room and discuss whether what we're looking at is (or was) alive and write down why we think so. Great.
Gorgeous gets up without even giving me a glance, and I hurry to follow him to our first station. He's brought no notebook or pen, so I guess I'm the secretary for this assignment. Jerk. But then he looks up at me, and I stop breathing just like I always do. He's two feet away, and it's as if there's this electricity crackling between us, but his look is … wary.
"What do you think about this one?" he asks without preamble, and I shake my head to clear the lusty haze that always clouds it when his eyes meet mine.
"Umm … I'd say no. It's a fossil, so it was once alive, but it's more than dead now because all the living parts have been replaced by minerals."
He glances up at me, the hint of a smile lightening his somber expression. "Agreed, Tum—um, Bella."
My eyes shoot to his in shock, but he's staring down at the table. That's the first time he's ever used my name. But he's off to the next station before I can reel my jaw up from the floor, so once again, I scramble to follow him. He's … different today. Cautious, somehow.
We continue with the assignment, but I decide to try to make conversation around it. It's the best chance I've had yet to try to figure him out.
"Did you enjoy the game last week?"
Gorgeous stills and his eyes flash to mine, widening a little. "Yeah, it's always good when we win."
"Your brother was the MVP. That's pretty cool."
His teeth grab his upper lip, but he doesn't miss a beat. "He's really good. I think he'll get scouted this year."
"We missed that last touchdown, watching the fight," I observe, and Gorgeous tenses beside me, his hand curling into the fist that it didn't that night. "When that sophomore boy jumped in, I thought—"
"What did you think?" Gorgeous snaps, turning to glare at me before I can even finish my sentence. I watch him carefully, but I'm not afraid. On the contrary, it seems like he is.
"I thought you'd throw the next pu—"
"What, just because Mike's a drunken asshole, I have to be one too?"
"Well, you usually—"
"You know nothing about what I usually do," he spits at me.
"I was just going to say—"
"Well, you're wrong."
"Can I finish my damn sentences?" I bark at him, garnering the attention of the three groups around us and Mr. Banner.
"Something wrong here, kids?" Banner asks as he approaches, glancing between us.
"No, sir," Gorgeous responds quickly, moving on to the next station. His cheeks are on fire, as I imagine mine are, and I can see his chest rising and falling rapidly. He's just as pissed as I am, but I have no idea why. I know I was fishing for information, but I didn't expect him to lash out like that. Why the hell can't we have anything that resembles a conversation?
We finish the assignment in silence, and when the bell rings, Assward runs out of biology like the pussy I'm starting to think he might be.
I just shake my head, more confused than ever. Why don't the good-looking boys ever make any sense?
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It's Monday morning, and when I arrive at school, the halls are in such an uproar you'd think Justin Timberlake just entered the building in a speedo. Girls are screeching; some are bright red and look embarrassed, and all the boys are laughing their asses off. What. The. Fuck?
As I open my locker, a memo on official school letterhead falls into my hand.
Attention: Mandatory Vagina Inspection
To all female students at Forks High School:
The district is required to conduct a mandatory vagina inspection on all female students at Forks High School in accordance with Washington Health Code 69. Vagina inspections will be conducted on Friday, October 6, promptly at 8:05 AM, and makeups will take place the following Friday at 10 AM. All students who have not already completed a vagina inspection must attend one of these two mandatory sessions. Students will be excused from any classes they miss in order to attend an inspection.
Please note: All clitoral piercings must be removed prior to inspection, and the traditional Northwestern Pass/Fail judging system will be used. Please ensure that vaginas are clean and orderly. A "Fail" will be given for all unshaved vaginas.
For questions, please contact Richard "Stick" McCockiner, Director of Vaginal Corrections.
I throw my head back and laugh out loud, and Jessica and some other prim and proper girl I've never met look at me as if I've lost my mind. They seriously don't think this is hysterical?
Just then, Angela comes strolling up, wearing what The Gothlet and I have come to refer to as her "Ben's my love-muffin" face. She returns to earth when I thrust the memo at her.
"Oh. My. God. Is this what everyone's going nuts about?"
"Looks like it. I think there was one in every girl's locker this morning."
Angela snorts. "Oh, Mean Greene is gonna be pi-issed when he finds out."
"Who do you think did it?"
"There's no doubt who did it," Angela answers, casting her eyes down to the end of the hall. Ken doll and Gorgeous are standing in the middle of a large group of junior and senior boys, and both are getting slaps on the back.
"So, Stick McCockiner, can I be your assistant?" one of the seniors shouts, thumping Gorgeous on the shoulder.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he answers, but his shit-eating grin would tip off a five-year-old. His brother, Emmett, stands just behind him, grinning and shaking his head.
"Hey, Lindsay, I'll do your mandatory inspection for you," one of the jocks calls, going after the ass of a blonde who glares at him as she hurries away, and all the boys howl with laughter.
The day goes on, and while the administration is obviously pissed, no one gets busted for the memo because there's no evidence to incriminate anyone, not even fingerprints!
Gorgeous has a smug little smile on his face when he walks into biology, and most of the boys crack up as he walks by. He sits down, shaking his head, but he's obviously quite pleased with himself.
"Nice one," I say, and he startles a bit as he looks over at me.
"What?"
"I said, nice one this morning," I repeat, turning a little red.
"Why, Tumbleweed, whatever do you mean?" he purrs, his words thick with sarcasm, and I'm about to snark back when his dancing eyes meet mine. Wow, he's in rare form today. Maybe we can actually have a conversation. And holy shit, does he look hot when his smile reaches up and crinkles the corners of his eyes.
"Oh, nothing, Stick," I answer, but the grin stays as he turns his attention to the front, and my chest floods with warmth.
Our next encounter is anything but warm.
"Hey, Sarah, it's time for your inspection!" Ken doll calls after one of the sophomore girls from his position on the steps after school. "'Stick' here and I have just what you need."
All the boys snicker as poor Sarah's face goes red.
"Nah, let her go. She doesn't have anything worth inspecting," a familiar velvet voice chimes in, and now the laughter is loud, and Sarah's face crumples as she turns away.
I stop so suddenly that The Gothlet runs into me, but I only have eyes for the copper-haired boy who's smirking, enjoying the spotlight of shame and embarrassment he's just shined onto another human being.
"Come on, Bella. At least, it's not us this time," The Gothlet says, urging me forward.
I move, but my glare stays locked on Assward until he meets my eyes. The smirk freezes on his face, and he stares as I mouth "asshole" at him.
Now his eyes narrow, and he glares right back, but none of the guys notice because Ken doll is already making fun of someone else.
"Bella!" Our stare down is broken as The Gothlet waves a hand in front of my face. "What the hell are you doing!"
"Letting Assward know he's an assward."
"Yes, I saw that," she replies, exasperated.
"Why should he get away with that kind of crap? That girl didn't do anything. He's just being a dick for the sake of being one," I answer, my pique still right at the surface.
"While I applaud your brass balls, haven't we had enough trouble with them lately? Things finally seem to be calming down for Ang. Let's not get them focused on us again, okay?"
"But it's not right," I argue, not really sure why I'm pushing the issue—it just feels like what I should do.
"I know it's not right, but we can't change it. No one can," The Gothlet replies, a sad little frown on her face.
I know she's right. This is the nature of high school, and probably a microcosm of the whole world. The strong prey on the weak, and if you're not the weak at the moment, you're still powerless because all it takes for you to become the weak is to open your mouth against the strong. Sometimes life just sucks.
As I follow her out into the parking lot, The Gothlet's words run through my head again. Where exactly are my brass balls coming from?
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As the week goes by, Stick McCockiner sees the end of his fifteen minutes of fame, and the use of the word "vagina" in the halls drops significantly. It's a pity, really. It was kind of fun to watch the girls' faces flame—when their personal assets weren't being disparaged, anyway.
Since my non-verbal chastisement of him Monday after school, Gorgeous has been ignoring me. I waited eagerly for Friday's biology lab to come so he'd be forced to talk to me, but Banner showed us a movie, and Gorgeous spent the period with his head on his desk. Coward. I don't feel bad about giving it to him for embarrassing that girl, but guys like him usually shake that shit off and don't look back. He can certainly dish it out, but somehow when I give it back, it feels … wrong. It's like I don't want him to be the one doing these things because I want him to be a decent guy, and so I get angry, but after I get in his face, I feel as if I've kicked a puppy. I just don't get it.
On Tuesday afternoon, as I make my way to my locker after physics, the junior/senior hallway is once again in an uproar. Groups of boys are clustered around their phones, laughing hysterically. The popular girls have smirks on their faces, but the rest look slightly horrified. Uh oh. Which poor girl is the target this time?
The Gothlet darts in front of me, her eyes wide as saucers, and grabs my arm. "Have you seen her?"
"Seen who?"
"Angela! We need to find her before she sees!"
My stomach drops into my shoes. "Sees what?"
The Gothlet takes a gulping swallow as she hands me her phone. I breathe in sharply and nearly drop the damn thing. It's a picture of Angela in only a bra and leggings. But the humiliation doesn't end there. There's an arrow pointing to one of her boobs and a caption that says, "Training bra: clearly not needed." On the other side, there's an arrow pointing to her nearly flat stomach, captioned, "Whore handles."
FUCK.
ME.
"Scroll down," The Gothlet whispers, clutching my arm tightly.
The next picture is Angela sitting down, gym t-shirt on, and her knee drawn up and bare from the pant leg she just removed. Her panties are pink cotton with an arrow pointing to both front and back —"Worn out" and "Insert here."
JESUS CHRIST ON A FUCKING POGO STICK.
"Who?" I growl, a tidal wave of anger overwhelming the tears stinging my eyes.
"Rumor is Newton or Assward."
I turn and glare at Ken doll, but his back is to me, and he's surrounded by most of the senior boys, laughing and making lewd comments. Tears of frustration roll down my cheeks. There's nothing I can do to humiliate him. Anything I say will just make things worse for Angela, and likely make me the next target. The other boys surround him like the outer wall of a fortress; their approval of his jackassery is disgusting.
I heave a frustrated sigh, trying to hold my temper in check. "Let's find her," I tell The Gothlet, and we leave the drove of douchebags behind.
We search every bathroom and the empty classrooms, both of us calling and texting her as we go. By the time we make it back to our lockers, the halls are all but deserted, and we've had no luck finding Angela.
"I bet she saw it and ran," The Gothlet says, shaking her head. "I'll drive by her place on my way home and text you if I find her."
"Okay," I tell her. "I just have to pack up, then I'll head out too."
The Gothlet gives me a sad smile as she turns away, both of us understanding what kind of hell tomorrow will bring. Stupid fucking boys and their need to put others down to raise themselves up! I slam my locker shut with a bang as my anger flares … and Gorgeous rounds the corner.
It feels as if the Big Bang happens again inside my chest. All my emotion—sorrow, disappointment, humiliation, fear, hurt, frustration, and an unbelievable amount of anger—rush together and explode outward in every direction.
"Hi, Tum—" he gets out before whatever he sees stops him cold. "What?"
"Was it you?" I growl, taking two steps toward him.
"Was what me?"
"Don't play with me, jackass; you know exactly what the fuck I'm talking about!"
His expression was merely curious before, but now Gorgeous' eyes narrow as he snaps, "No, I really fucking don't, so either tell me or leave me alone."
"This!" I yell, shoving my phone in his face. His eyes widen, and he snatches it out of my shaking hand.
"Where did you—"
"It was you, you asshole! How could you!" I scream. As he stares at the picture, Edward's eyes widen even farther, and he gasps as all the color drains from his face.
"Where—"
"You are the biggest douchebag I've ever known! How could you humiliate her like this?"
"But I—"
"FUCK YOU! You're just like the rest of them!" I yell, swiping my phone back as Edward takes a step back, staring somewhere over my shoulder. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to me, which makes me want to fucking kill him.
"Mister Popular! Everything's perfect in your life, so why do you have to go around making other people's lives miserable, huh?" I poke him in the chest for emphasis.
That snaps Edward out of wherever he was, and his eyebrows draw together as he glares at me. "My life isn't perfect," he grates out, but I hardly pause long enough to let him finish.
"Of course, it is!"
"Bella, you have no fucking—"
"You guys are such assholes! You go around putting everyone down and making them feel like shit, just to make yourselves feel good! What kind of a horrible human being does that?"
Edward winces and closes his eyes as my words rain down on him, but when he looks up, there's fire in his eyes. He takes a deep breath like he's trying to calm himself, and I go ballistic because I want him to lose his shit.
"Bella—"
"You and all your fucking perfect friends! Nothing ever goes wrong for you! You have no idea what it's like to be different or alone! You—"
"You know nothing about me, so shut the fuck up!" he roars, stepping forward and getting right in my face. I can feel his hot breath as it comes in gasps—his face is bright red, and there's a vein bulging in the middle of his forehead. He looks as if it's taking everything he has not to hit me. He brings a clenched fist as high as his waist, then he storms off down the hall, leaving me fuming in his wake.
I wasn't fucking done yet.
I take off after him, breaking into a jog as he whips open the door to Mrs. Goff's room and storms inside.
Fuck that asshole; he's going to listen to every Goddamn word I have to—
But Edward isn't standing there, ready to round on me and continue right where we left off. He's sitting on the floor with a faraway look on his face.
I don't want to hesitate, but the hair on the back of my neck is standing on end. Something's wrong.
"Edward?" I say, taking a tentative step toward him.
His eyes snap to mine, and there's terror in them, and embarrassment.
"J-j-just g-g-go, B-b-bell-a-a," he stutters out, and he lays down on his side on the floor.
I stand there, confused and undecided, flummoxed by his odd behavior. I know he really wants me to leave, but something tells me I really shouldn't.
Just then his whole body stiffens, and I freeze, unable to look away. He throws his head back, eyes closed, the tendons in his neck standing out rigidly, but he doesn't look to be in pain. He doesn't look to be really conscious either. And then, with a cry, he starts convulsing.
I watch in horror as his body jerks uncontrollably. I'm unable to move. His head hits the floor with an audible thud, and suddenly, I'm propelled into motion—I slide across the floor and put my knees under his upper body, instinctively turning his head to the side and holding it as his body twists and writhes. As I hold him, I notice that I can only see the whites of his eyes, and his lips are turning blue. I don't know who's shaking more violently, him or me.
And then, as suddenly as they began, the convulsions stop. Edward goes limp against my knees as he gasps for air, his lips regaining a little pink with every harsh breath. He moans a little, but his eyes don't open.
What the hell am I supposed to do now?
I pull out my phone, but I don't have Emmett's or his parents' numbers. I'm about to dial 911 when, with a flash of intuition, I reach for his arm, grasping the bracelet on his wrist. Now that I can examine it closely, I see the small caduceus in the bottom corner. I turn it over, and printed on the back in large black letters it says:
Edward Cullen
Epilepsy
ICE: XXX-XXX-XXXX
I dial the phone number with shaking fingers, and a moment later, a woman answers.
"Hello, Esme speaking."
"Mrs. Cullen? This is Bella Swan."
"Yes, how can I help you, dear?" I can hear the confusion in her voice.
"I'm with E-Edward, and h-he just had a s-seizure," I stutter out, and the line goes dead for a moment as we both absorb what I've said.
"Oh my God! Is he all right? Is it over?"
"Y-yes, I think so. He stopped shaking a minute ago."
"How long did it last?" she presses urgently.
It felt like an eternity, but I try to make a realistic guess. "Um, a minute or two?"
"Thank God," she says, relief evident in her tone. "Where are you?"
"We're in Mrs. Goff's classroom at school."
"I think Emmett is still there somewhere. I'll call him, and he'll come and get Edward. Can you stay with him until Emmett gets there?"
"Of course," I respond quickly. There's no chance I would leave him alone like this.
"Okay, I'll call Emmett now," Esme says. "Are you all right?"
"Y-yes. Just ... shaky."
"I understand, dear; that's normal. If Edward wakes up before Emmett gets there, he's not going to know what's going on. Just tell him that everything's okay, all right? Thank you for staying with him."
I don't know what to say.
"I'll call Emmett now. Sit tight."
"Thank you," I answer, and I hang up the phone.
Edward's still lying on my knees, but he's beginning to move around a bit. I stroke his hair gently, and his eyes snap open.
"You're okay," I whisper soothingly, but the look on his face tells me he has no idea where he is, maybe even who he is … and certainly no idea who I am.
I continue to stroke his hair and talk softly to him, and he closes his eyes and seems to relax again.
We stay like that for about five minutes until Emmett comes barreling through the door.
The sound makes Edward jump, and he rolls to a sitting position.
Emmett's on his knees beside him in a heartbeat, his arm curling protectively around Edward's back.
"Hey, bro, are you with me?"
Edward looks up at him and nods very slowly.
"Let's get you home, okay?" Emmett asks him, but it's more of a declaration than a question.
"Okay," Edward mumbles, bringing a hand to his forehead. "What happened?"
"We'll talk about that later," Emmett answers, putting an arm under Edward's knees as he stands, lifting him easily. Edward lays his head against Emmett's chest and closes his eyes again, and Emmett looks down at him and sighs.
I watch this whole interchange from behind them, unable to tear my eyes away. I've never seen this side of Emmett, and I have a feeling I wasn't meant to ever witness it.
As he stands, Emmett looks at me for the first time. His displeasure is easy to read, but he takes a deep breath and says, "Thank you, Bella," as he walks out of the room.
I just sit there and shake for I don't know how long. I can't process what just happened. Slowly, my brain begins to unfreeze, and I pull myself off the floor and into one of the desks.
Oh my God, Edward has epilepsy. I just sit there for a while and let this knowledge seep into my consciousness. And then, I slowly start to think and puzzle it out.
Obviously, he'd had it for at least a little while since neither his mom nor Emmett were surprised about what happened. If this was the first seizure he ever had, his mom would have flipped and sent EMS, not Emmett. His mom did seem surprised that it happened at school, though. Maybe he doesn't have seizures at school? How could that be? I think about Edward's "vacation" days, and suddenly, it clicks into place. He isn't spending those days playing hooky; he's not in school those days because of having seizures. I wonder if there's some way he knows he's going to have one, and that's why he never has them at school?
Is it possible I'm the first person at school to find out about this? This isn't the kind of thing high school kids would keep quiet. If anyone knew Edward has epilepsy, it would have been whispered to me as he walked by sometime during that first week of school, probably even the first day. All the juicy gossip on everyone else was passed to me that way. And people would treat him differently. If they were nice, they would just walk on eggshells around him, wondering when would be the next time he'd fall down on the floor. If they weren't nice … I shudder to think about how cruel kids can be about things like this. No, there's no way anyone knows.
So, Edward has a secret, and a huge one, at that. That must be why he lost it when I accused him of being perfect. Oh shit! Everything I know about him is now cast in a different light.
One thing is certain, though. He's going to be furious that I know about this. But even with how much it terrified me, I don't wish I hadn't been here. The thought of him having to go through that alone, with nobody knowing where he was and that he was in trouble, and no one being there to comfort him after—it's more than I can stand. He's been a jerk, but this afternoon, he was just a boy, lost and frightened. No one should have to go through something like that by themselves.
A/N: So now we're all in on the secret—kudos to everyone who guessed right about Edward's bracelet, and to the three of you who actually guessed that he had epilepsy. I didn't drop a lot of clues for that, so I'm pretty impressed! I wonder how Edward will feel about Bella knowing? Teaser team on Wednesday night, teaser in Shadow Fics on Thursday, Chapter 5 will post on Monday. Have a good week, all!