So the world hasn't ended yet today, and I'm disappointed because I thought there would be rioting in the street and I could steal a Lamborghini and get away with it. Oh well.

Chapter Seven

It was the wrong kind of blush.

All through Spanish and into APUSH, this one thought kept pounding itself into Bella's head. It was the wrong kind of blush.

At her father's funeral, she had spent most of the time tucked into Jasper's arm, runoff from her eyes and nose ruining his shirt. Later, when they were back home, her mother had shouted at her, calling her a disgrace who wore her heart on her sleeve. Bella had blushed then, feeling herself go red first in anger, and then in shame as she remembered the weakness she had shown. Her dad had taught her to be stronger than that.

Knowing what today was, Jasper and Alice had left Bella to her thoughts in Spanish, and none of her close friends had APUSH with her. So all morning, no one had noticed – or at least, commented on – the abstraction in Bella's eyes as she remembered Edward, his eyes as he listened, his arms as he held her, how she had just sobbed all over him, spilling out her problems like they actually mattered. But as she thought back to this morning in the parking lot, what caused the new dilation in the capillaries of her face wasn't so much the embarrassment of her outburst but rather the way Edward had acted like it wasn't embarrassing at all.

It was the wrong kind of blush.

"Bella," Mr. Barrett snapped, and she jumped.

"I – um–" Bella stuttered, glancing around, before collecting herself. "I'm sorry, what was the question?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, but repeated, "Why did the French condescend to form an alliance with the colonies during the revolution?"

"Oh." Bella sat up. "Because the French were in favor of anything that damaged the British empire, including a rebellion on this scale, and after Saratoga, they had reason to believe that an alliance would be profitable. They didn't join before then because, had they believed that the colonists would lose, when the war was over they'd be seen as abetting a rebellion, which would be reason for Britain to declare war against them."

Barrett nodded curtly before moving on to his next victim, leaving Bella to her preoccupation again.

When the bell rang, expelling the class into the hallway, Bella brushed her hair from her face and held her books to her chest as she joined the queue for the stairs so she could get down to the physics lab for fourth period. The anniversary was always hard, more so even than his birthday. But she was better off at school, with other things to think about, than just sitting home wallowing in remembered grief, she was sure. She saw Rosalie coming and, knowing that she'd be able to tell that something was wrong, Bella ducked her head as she hurried past the other girl. She'd had quite enough of talking about it today.

When she pulled into her driveway after school that day, Riley was just getting out of his car across the street. Seeing Bella, he waved, and jogged over. She groaned a little inside. Judging by the smile on his face, he hadn't remembered. "Hey, Bella."

"Hi, Riley." Bella locked the car and started for her front door, hoping he wouldn't follow her. But, being Riley, he did.

"Hey, d'you think you have time to help me out with calc tonight?" he asked, and she looked up at him incredulously.

"You need help with calculus?"

He shrugged, embarrassed. "I know, right? Don't tell Alice. I just really don't get it."

Bella hesitated, knowing that she should. But she knew she wouldn't be focused, and she'd probably confuse him even more. "Sorry, Riley, I can't. I have too much else going on."

Riley studied her for a second, and she had to bite her lip to keep herself from looking away, shifting her books to her other arm. She was thankful he didn't ask her what was wrong, instead saying, "It's no big deal. I mean, in twenty years, I won't really care what I learned in calculus, right?"

Bella forced a laugh. "That does you very little good at the moment, though. But you know that Shepard offers help before school. Can you get out of zero period tomorrow?"

He shrugged. "Probably. And thanks anyway, Bee."

"No problem," she assured him, and he waved once before heading back across the street.

Well. If she could handle myself well enough to fool Riley, one of the most empathetic people she knew, then why on earth, Bella asked herself angrily, had she lost it in front of Edward this morning?

She couldn't sleep that night, although she went to bed at eight. As she lay awake all night, she heard nothing but silence. Renee never came home from work. Bella knew it made her a horrible person, but she couldn't work up the energy to worry about her mother, to wonder where she was. When the sun came up the next morning, Bella got up and showered, although she just wanted to go back to sleep. She wasn't over the previous day's residual sadness yet.

Fortunately – or unfortunately, depending on how one looked at it – when she got to leadership, she had plenty to occupy herself. The bell had barely rang and most people were still looking for seats when Mr. Whittier dropped a three-inch white binder labeled HOMECOMING down onto the table. Beside Bella, Matt groaned.

"Save it," Mr. Whittier snapped before shoving the binder at Sean, the ASB president. "You people have three weeks. By then, we're going to need a theme, a budget, a system for ticket sales, and a court nominated and elected. The game is November third; the dance is the fourth."

"Why so early?" interrupted Erin.

Whittier shrugged, but Jake, the boys' athletics commissioner, answered her. "That's just how the numbers worked out. Something happened with the league, so there were fewer football teams in our league this year."

"Anyway," Whittier interrupted, "we don't really care. Now get moving."

He left the room for his standard coffee/breakfast run, and Sean, sighing, flipped open the binder to last year's file. "Okay, so the theme last year was 'Shadowplay,' because it was Halloween weekend or something. So we can't go there…."

"We can't do anything that this year's senior class will remember," Beki interjected. "Go back four years."

"How about this." Jesse stood. "Why don't we look at themes from other dances starting four years ago? Prom or Winter Formal or whatever." Nobody stopped him, so went and grabbed two more fat binders.

Forty-five minutes later, they had managed to limit their choices down to two: 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow' and 'In the Jungle.' Brittany, the commissioner of special events, called for a vote.

"Somewhere Over the Rainbow," she called importantly, standing up to tally. Bella raised her hand and glanced around to see about two thirds of the class doing the same. Brittany shrugged. "Okay, then. Majority has it."

"Cool." Jesse closed the Prom and Formal notebooks and moved to replace them on their shelves. "Since that took way longer than it should have, we need to get moving tomorrow with floor plans and stuff. I nominate Bella as being in charge of the music."

Bella sighed. "Do I have to?"

"Yep."

The bell rang and they all packed up. Never mind that Bella was busy, or tired, or just not in the mood. She'd do it, though. She always did.

Bella hadn't seen her mother since the previous morning's walk-of-shame debacle, and she didn't really want to deal with her again just yet. During calc that afternoon, she asked Jasper if she could have dinner with him and his dad that night. He didn't ask why, and Bella didn't volunteer it. It wasn't so much that she didn't want him to know about what had happened with Renee yesterday – hell, he lived next door and had since they were born, so he knew what Bella's mother was like. It was more that she had already told Edward. It had the feel of something personal now, something tangible between the two of them. Something they could both lay claim to, if they wanted.

Did Bella want to? Could she?

After her dad's death, she had diluted all her relationships – except my friendships with Jasper and Alice, who'd been her rocks through the funeral and the tumultuous five years thereafter. Bella had never allowed anyone new to get close. Was she capable of changing that now?

And was it even worth it? He'd already told her that he was leaving next summer. She'd had enough of being left. Maybe it was better to not even be in that position at all.

"Hey." She jumped at the sound of Jasper's voice from the driver's seat of his truck. "You awake?"

"Yeah." She passed a hand over her eyes.

"Long week," he said, smiling sympathetically. "Worse than usual this year?"

Bella was about to say yes, but then she remembered Edward's face yesterday morning, his arms wrapped around her as she finally allowed herself cry. "No," she realized. "It wasn't."

His eyebrows raised, but he didn't ask. Instead, he commented, "Alice's got a new song in the works. She won't show it to me."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "I hate it when she does that, you know? We're all going to see it anyway."

"Hey, just because you've got no aversion to letting others see your works-in-progress doesn't mean the rest of us are immune."

"True." He pulled into his driveway and they both got out. Bella ignored her own house and Renee's car in the driveway, following Jasper up the slanting concrete and onto the porch while he dug around in his backpack for his key. He got the door unlocked and they stepped into the quiet; his dad was on the board of a company that did something involving insurance downtown, and didn't usually make it home before Jasper. His mom had left when Jasper and Alice and Bella were about six.

Despite the healthy income he had, Michael Montgomery refused to buy a house in the wealthier area of LA, or Beverly Hills, saying he'd rather have money in the bank than a house that was more trouble than it was worth. This proved useful when Danny, Jasper's brother who was four years older than him, had gotten into Pepperdine but not qualified for much financial aid.

Jasper dropped his keys on the shelf by the door and he and Bella both left their bags in the living room before heading into the kitchen. "Do we want to eat now?"

Bella shrugged. "Whatever you want is fine. It's your house."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Did you have lunch?"

She shifted. "Maybe," I muttered.

"Did you have dinner last night?" Bella didn't answer, and Jasper nodded grimly. "We'll eat now." He pulled open a drawer and extracted a pile of takeout menus. He fanned them out, holding them like a hand of playing cards. "Pick a menu, any menu."

Bella couldn't laugh. She shrugged and nudged forward the menu in the middle. Chinese. He picked up the phone and placed the order as she brought their school stuff in to the kitchen table. She sat down and started in on her APUSH reading. She realized that the class was already at the War of 1812. October was passing alarmingly fast. Jasper hung up and joined her, and she asked him what he was getting Alice for her birthday.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you," he said, pushing his book away. "Paramore's coming to town in March, and tickets go on sale in three weeks. Should we–"

Bella nodded with a good imitation of enthusiasm. "That'd be great. And you're brilliant, and I am forever grateful to you for not making me think."

He grinned and went back to his homework, but they'd been working for no more than fifteen minutes when he spoke again.

"Can I make an observation that is completely objective and not influenced by any personal feelings?"

Bella warily put her pen down on her notes and looked up at him. "That sounds ominous."

He tilted his chair back so that it balanced on two legs. "Maria doesn't seem happy."

Bella sighed and he held up his hands. "Let me finish," he pleaded, and she closed her mouth. He continued, "She doesn't smile as much as she did last year. I'm in English with her, she sits diagonal to me, and she hardly ever looks up in class. I'm sure it's The Boyfriend."

Bella raised and eyebrow. "Isn't Alice in that class, too?"

He shifted. "Yeah."

"And what does she think?"

"I haven't told her yet," he confessed, shrugging. "She'd just lecture me again about not asking her out when I had the chance or something."

Bella sighed. "I don't know what to tell you," she said. "I don't have any classes with her, I haven't since freshman bio. But you have to let her go, Jasper. She's not yours, and it's not up to you to look after her."

He glared at her. "Quit telling me to let her go. At least I have the sense to know when I've fallen for someone."

She felt her face change, and he was instantly apologetic. "Bella–"

"Jasper, stop. Not today. I don't want to think about it today."

"Okay," he replied, and bent his head back over his book. They worked in silence until the food came, and he got up to pay for it, waving off the money Bella extracted from her bag. Half an hour later, he asked for her help on a calc problem, and she talked him through it. But her mind was only half on any of it.

Because despite what she'd told Jasper, she was thinking about it. About Edward. About how he'd told her that he understood her hurt, how he implied that he had his own tragedy somewhere. About how she could feel herself growing more and more attracted to him. About how something was changing for her. About how she had to stop it, whatever it was, now, before it hurt her too.

~oOo~

"¿What're you doing?" she demanded, and Tony jumped and looked up from the comic he was reading. He knew that there was no right answer to that question. He also knew he had to try and answer it.

"N-nothin'." He trembled. He didn't want her to come closer.

She slapped him across the face. "You lyin' to me, Tony? That's not cool with me."

"I'm not–" He stopped. What did she want him to say? "I'm not lyin'."

She took a step closer, and another, before squatting in front of him. Her fake yellow hair looked old and gray in the late afternoon sun.

"No," Edward shouted, sitting up straight.

Jesus Christ, not again. That was the second one in five weeks. He fell back on his pillows and pressed his hands to his eyelids, trying to force out the memory of her face. "Leave me alone," he muttered to nobody.

Suddenly disgusted with himself, he threw the bedcovers off and left the room, heading for the kitchen. He was seventeen years old, and he'd seen worse than that and survived. So why the hell did it keep coming back to him? It didn't matter anymore, he thought as he passed through the dark house.

He filled a glass of water at the sink, not bothering with the water purifier thing in the fridge. Before he could drink any of it, the light snapped on behind him. He jumped and turned, hating how his body reacted in fear.

"Edward," Carlisle said, his hand still on the light switch. "Are you all right?"

"I – yeah," Edward muttered, turning back around. He'd forgotten that Carlisle was working the five AM to three PM shift in the emergency room this week. Edward looked at the clock over the stove, and it said four-oh-one. "I was just thirsty."

Carlisle walked towards his newer son, and Edward hated how the man's forehead wrinkled in worry. He told himself that he'd have to remember to keep a cup or something next to the bathroom sink so he could avoid crap like this. "Are you sure?" Carlisle asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I had–" Edward stopped himself before he could say the word, but Carlisle finished the sentence for him.

"A nightmare?"

There didn't seem a point to lying, so Edward just nodded, avoiding his eyes.

He was glad that Carlisle didn't touch him, but then he leaned up against the counter next to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Edward shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Dreams aren't real."

Carlisle stood there for another minute, appraising Edward, before he nodded. "All right. But if you change your mind, just come find me this afternoon."

"Sure."

Carlisle put his hand on Edward's shoulder for a second before he went out the back door to the garage. Edward stood where Carlisle had left him, watching him go. Carlisle was a good father – one only had to look at Emmett to know that. But Edward didn't need a father. What he needed was for everyone to stop thinking he did need someone.

He went upstairs, showered, checked his homework – anything to avoid going back to sleep. When it was finally late enough to go down for breakfast, he picked up his stuff and went downstairs. Esme was already in there, with Emmett.

"Hey," Edward said, but didn't look at either of them as he went to pour himself some coffee.

"Good morning," Esme replied, smiling. "You're up early."

Edward shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"Ah." She dropped a pad of butter onto the griddle behind her and watched it melt and sizzle. "Emmett, why don't you go make sure you have all your homework ready for today?"

"Sure," Emmett replied, grinning, and got up and left the room. "Subtle, Mom. Really subtle."

Once he was gone, Esme pointed a wooden spoon at Edward's chest and planted her other hand on her hip. "You need to start telling us about these things so we don't find out about it first from the team's emails."

"What?" Edward was too tired to keep up with her.

"Your race next weekend, silly. Why didn't you tell us? We'll be there, of course, but it would have been nice to hear about it from you personally."

Edward stared at her.

"What is it?" she asked, concerned.

"You actually want to go?" he blurted out, and then clamped his mouth shut.

But Esme didn't look surprised. "Of course we do," she said quietly. "I know you're not used to people caring. But we're going to your race because we want to be there, and we want to be there because we like you and want to see you do well. That's why we go to Emmett's games." She reached out and touched her son's cheek lightly, smiled, and went back to cooking breakfast.

Edward said hardly anything as Emmett came back down the stairs, as all three of them ate, as, an hour later, he went out to the truck. Only when he'd pulled into a spot in the nearly full parking lot did he realize what the date was. October sixteenth. That meant that he'd been with the Cullens for a month and twenty-one days.

All around him, people beeped their cars locked, talked, laughed, walked onto campus. But Edward didn't move.

He'd made it more than a month. He was still here, still in the Cullens' custody, and so far, the only person who'd even mentioned relocation had been him. Esme had said that they were coming to his race on Friday. He hadn't been pulled in to talk to any administrators about switching schools.

The Cullens wanted to keep him, he realized. God knew why, but they wanted to keep him.

He didn't know how long he stood there before he shook himself and headed to class.

When he got to chem, Bella was sitting at their shared table, making notes on what looked like the rough draft of an essay. She looked up and smiled at him when he sat down. Just like the day before, she didn't mention how she'd cried, and he didn't either. He wanted to ask if she was okay, though, and that bugged him, because he didn't know why he even cared so much. Or he did know and just really didn't want to deal with it.

"Hi," she said.

"Hey." Edward glanced at the paper. "The Wolberg essay. Due in two weeks, right?"

"Mm-hm." She crossed out a sentence and rewrote it above the line.

"Yours?"

She shook her head. "No, it's a friend's. She asked me to proof it for her."

"Do people do that a lot?" he asked.

She nodded. "I don't mind," she told him, and paused. She tilted her head and looked at him again. "You want me to look at yours?"

"Uh," Edward said, startled. "Sure. I mean, if you have time."

"I have time." She smiled again. "And anyway, I owe you one."

He looked at her in confusion for a minute before he realized she was talking about two days ago. He shook his head. "No, you don't."

Bella put her pen down and looked at him, earnest now. "I do, though. You didn't have to take all that trouble for me. And you certainly didn't have to listen." Edward opened his mouth to argue, but she interrupted him. "Listen, just let me proof your essay, and we'll let it go if it makes you feel better. Okay?"

"Why?" he demanded.

Her eyebrows pulled together. "Why let it go?"

"No, why do you feel like you owe me?"

She sighed, and looked away. Edward frowned. He wanted her to look back up – it was easier to guess what she was thinking that way. "Because it was important," she said quietly, almost like she was talking to herself. He saw that far-off look in her eyes he'd seen the other morning. "It mattered to me. And…." She hesitated, blushing a little, then shrugged. "That's it, really. I want to make it up to you."

Edward was glad Miss Somerset opened the lesson then, because he didn't have the first damn clue how to respond to that one. "It mattered to me. And…" And what?

Already, today was pretty damn weird. And it didn't get better for a while.

When he walked into pre-calc third period, Mr. Taylor was handing back the second test they had taken. Edward's was already on his desk, facedown, when he took his seat. Slowly, he turned it over.

Forty-one percent.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath and slammed it back down. The girl in front of him, Leah, who was on the girls' JV cross country team, turned around and raised her eyebrows at him, then glanced at the facedown test. Wordlessly, she faced front again.

Edward didn't hear much of the lesson, which, all things considered, wasn't really helpful. He had told Esme he couldn't pull honors classes, and she'd ignored him, and look what had happened.

There was a minute of panic when Edward didn't remember if there was anything in his contract about school. He was sure there was – there always had been before. Shit, if there was….

He shook it off. He hadn't actually done anything else to get himself in trouble, except for that thing in the locker room with Chris Janssen, and it looked like Emmett had kept that one to himself. Without this test, his grade in the class would've been a C. Not perfect, but passing. He didn't even want to think about what his grade was now.

When the bell rang he shoved the test into the cover of his book and was the first one out of the classroom. He didn't want Leah or anyone to ask him exactly what he had gotten. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd at the stairs and went down without looking where he was going. Which was how he managed to walk into Bella. Again.

"Shit, I'm sorry," he muttered, but at least he didn't knock her down this time.

"It's fine," she replied automatically, smiling, and then looked into his face again. "Edward, what's wrong?"

Without saying anything, he took the test back out and handed it to her. They stepped out of the direct line of traffic by the stairs, and she looked down at it. She saw the score and grimaced, then began flipping through it, studying the problems. "Ah."

"Yeah. And if my grades slip, the system'll take me out of the Cullens' house." Edward ran a hand roughly through his hair as he stared across campus. "My grade wasn't all that great to begin with, and doesn't the quarter end soon?"

"Last Friday in October," she replied, handing it back. "So not really. There's time. You guys should be starting the trig unit next, right?"

He looked back at her. "What?"

"The trigonometry unit," she repeated patiently. "Isn't that what's due up next?"

"I – I think so." Why did she care?

"Good." She nodded briskly. "So I'll tutor you."

"Really?" Edward raised an eyebrow, not believing it. "First my essay and now my math class? Bella, you don't owe me anything."

"I'm not doing it because I owe you," she retorted, looking almost like he'd insulted her or some shit. "You remember that conversation we had on the second day of school, about you dropping out?" She waited for Edward to nod before going on. "I'm trying to give myself the opportunity to say I told you so. I'm hoping that if your grades stay up enough, you won't quit. So this is purely selfish, because I like being right."

Edward laughed; he couldn't help it. "I'd actually really like it. How much do you charge?"

"I don't." She held up a hand, shutting him up. "And don't argue, or we're both going to be late to class. I have rehearsal today, but if you want, I can come by your house around four-thirty tomorrow afternoon."

Her chin came up, and Edward was pretty sure it'd be a bad idea to argue. He agreed, "Fine. Thank you. You know how to get there?"

"Of course." She'd started to walk away, and said this last over her shoulder. "I was at that kickback, remember? The one you bailed on." She smiled again and disappeared into the crowd.

He shook his head and went to class. At least he had a shot at help.

He turned in his summer assignments to Mrs. Wolberg a full week before she expected them, earning him a couple of points with her. She didn't look as surprised as he expected – it wasn't exactly a secret that he'd been a gangbanger in Tucson, and he'd thought it would shock her that he was in her class at all, let alone being responsible about it. But she just accepted the papers like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. And they took notes in APUSH, so nothing else bad could happen there. During practice, he made sure he got back from the run in the middle of the pack and then got up quickly after dismissal. In the locker room, he avoided Chris Janssen, trying to ignore the way Emmett kept glancing at him.

But he needed help. "Emmett," Edward asked as soon as they were outside. "What would Esme and Carlisle say if I failed a test?"

Emmett grinned. "Hypothetically?"

"Yeah."

His brother shrugged. "They wouldn't shout or anything, they'd just do the disappointment thing. Which is worse, in my opinion. If, hypothetically, it was your first F all year, not just in that particular class but in anything, and if we still had a couple of weeks to go before quarter, I wouldn't bother. It's not worth the headache."

"For real?" Edward asked, wary.

"Yeah," Emmett assured him, clapping Edward on the back. "And I won't rat you out."

"I didn't think you would." Emmett looked at Edward skeptically and he insisted, "I didn't. If I did, you think I'd've brought it up at all?"

Emmett raised his eyebrows. "You finally decided to trust us?"

Edward hesitated before answering. "I'm not sure yet."

Emmett shrugged, shaking his head in something that almost looked like disgust, but left it at that. And when they got home, he challenged Edward to an epic Call of Duty battle on the Xbox, and for the first time, Edward accepted. He even had fun with it, pretending he didn't know how to play at first, and then wiping the floor with Emmett's ass. Several times. Even after Emmett figured out Edward was messing with him.

Three hours later, Emmett was staring at the screen with his mouth open. "You are a dirty rat bastard liar."

"Yeah," Edward grinned. "Go again?"

"Hell, yes." Emmett sat forward and set his face. "I'm not losing to you."

Edward raised his eyebrows. "Then what do you call the last seven rounds?"

"I was going easy on you at first," Emmett defended himself indignantly. "And after that they were flukes."

The doorbell rang, and Esme left her study to go answer it. Edward didn't pay much attention until he heard a voice – a voice he recognized – ask for Tony. He froze, and Emmett shot him.

Emmett whooped, but Edward ignored him, dropping his control and standing, facing the door. Esme had stepped aside for James – he was in a suit, his tats covered, and he looked perfectly respectable – and was about to invite him in. Edward strode forward.

"That's okay, Esme, we'll talk on the porch." Hell no you are not getting inside this house. And, ignoring her confusion, Edward stepped outside and shut the door before turning to face James.

This may have been Peter's brother but it wasn't Peter – Edward couldn't just intimidate him and make him swear to him like he had that night outside Talbot's and that'd be it. He had to be polite. "James."

"Anthony," he rumbled in reply. Edward could see the discoloration where he'd used some sort of cover-up to hide the tattooed teardrops by his eye. James was only a few years older than Edward, but the suit and the hairstyle – combed instead of covered with a bandana – made him look at least twenty-five. "Long time. How you been?"

Edward shrugged, waiting for him to get to the point. The less time they wasted, the sooner James would be gone. Hopefully.

James looked over Edward's shoulder, like he could still see into the house through the closed door. "So you're living the good life here, aren't you? New family, new clothes – I noticed you've been lasered." He stared at the place on Edward's bicep where the AG symbol used to be.

"Why are you here, James?"

"Well, nobody sent me," he said, holding up his hands and smiling. "I'm not even strapped." Edward didn't believe it, but if James could tell he ignored it and kept talking. "I'm here because Peter was confused, and didn't know what to do with his two conflicting oaths. Aro doesn't know I'm here."

Edward cursed internally. He'd been so stupid to believe Peter.

"I just want to know," James continued like they were friends, "why you believe that you were jumped out."

"Because the intent was to kill me and I survived."

"Ah," James smiled, holding up a finger. "But it was interrupted."

"Were you there?"

James shook his head. "No, but I heard about it. My little brother felt quite bad about it. He told me he hadn't really wanted to hurt you."

Edward said nothing to that, but he took his turn to speak, keeping his voice low. "I wasn't the narc, James. I don't know who ran to the cops, but it wasn't me."

James shrugged. "Doesn't matter now, man. The point is that you owe them your loyalty and you left. You could've come back and you didn't."

"James–" Edward broke off, looking into the street. It was so quiet, so domestic… across the street he could see a bike lying in the lawn where the little girl who owned it had left it when she'd had to go inside for dinner. "I'm trying to do better. Okay? I'm trying to just leave it, and be safe another way."

"By relying on rich people?" James demanded, the calm breaking for a second. "I don't think so." He was about to say something else, but the front door opened. Edward looked towards it, prepared to turn Esme away again, but it wasn't her.

"Is there a problem?" asked Emmett, his eyes on James as he snapped the door shut again behind him.

"No," Edward snapped, but it was too late – James had seen Emmett's face. He'd recognize him again.

James shook his head, hitching his smile back into place. "Of course not. Just having a conversation with Tony about where his loyalties should be – who protected him when he needed it."

"Yeah, a damn good job you guys did of it when you beat him to a pulp," Emmett retorted. "Leave him alone. It was a jumping out. He hasn't informed on any of you since, he hasn't gone to the cops."

"What–" Edward started, glaring at him, wishing he'd go back inside.

"You were covered in scars and tattoos when you came to live with us, and my parents had to sign your medical history papers," Emmett said without looking at Edward. "And I came this close to landing in it too, remember? It wasn't hard to guess."

James was watching Emmett too. "It seems I misjudged him," he said slowly. "If you're telling me the truth, and he didn't betray us even after the fact…." He stopped and looked at Edward, then he shook his head, muttering, "No. He still swore to us on his jumping in. And he left us."

"You would have killed me for something I didn't do!" Edward almost shouted, losing his temper for the first time. Emmett shot him a warning look, but Edward ignored him.

James nodded again. "True. I have much to think about," he said, still smiling. "I'll leave you now. But just so you know, Tony, I don't plan on telling them where you are. All I'm concerned about is what I'm going to do." He turned to go. "I'm parked around the block – I didn't want any of your foster family members to see the car – I'm sure you understand."

And with a last smile, he went down the steps. Edward waited until he'd turned the corner at the end of the block before going back inside. When he did, he pounded straight upstairs to his room, and he didn't notice that Emmett was following him until he'd pulled his duffel bag out from under the bed.

"What're you doing?"

"Nothing is going to happen to any of you," Edward said, going to the closet and pulling out clothes. "I promise."

Emmett leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms. "Doesn't look like you can guarantee that, Edward."

"I know. I don't want you people involved in my problems." Edward stuffed the bundle of clothes into the bag. "That's why I'm leaving."

Emmett snorted. "The hell you are. When they endanger my family, they become my problems too."

Edward shook his head, thinking out loud. "I can't stay here. When I'm gone, and they see I've left here, they'll leave you guys alone. They'll know I wouldn't tell you where I was going. You'll all be safe."

"I wasn't just talking about Esme and Carlisle, Edward," Emmett said quietly, and Edward heard but didn't listen at first. But when his words registered, Edward stopped what he was doing and looked at his foster brother. Emmett met his eyes as he continued, "You're family. Whether you like it or not. Now put your shit back, and let's go talk to Carlisle."

Edward hesitated, and Emmett sighed in exasperation and unpacked the bag, putting the stuff back in the closet and throwing the bag under the bed. Then he motioned Edward out the door and followed him down the hall.

They stopped at Carlisle's office and Emmett knocked. After the invitation to enter, he pushed open the door, motioned Edward inside, and shut it behind them. Carlisle looked up from the file on his desk, his hazel eyes worried. "What's wrong?"

Emmett sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the desk. Edward reluctantly did the same, and Emmett motioned to him. "Tell him."

Edward looked from Emmett to his father, the man who was willing to be Edward's father if he'd let him, and realized maybe he wasn't alone. It wasn't like he was suddenly a believer in the family system, or that he thought he'd be safe through the power of their healing love or anything. It was just that he knew, suddenly, that these people were willing to help him, and his life would be easier if he accepted their help.

So he told Carlisle. Not just about that night, but also about the night at Talbot's, and the exact circumstances and consequences of his beating. When he finished, Carlisle was quiet for a long time. He took his glasses off and stared out the black window adjacent to the desk. "He came here," Carlisle mused, and Edward froze, sure Carlisle was going to call his caseworker and have him taken away. Better.

Emmett interrupted. "I believe him when he said he came of his own volition, Dad. I know gangbangers, I know drug dealers. When they come to intimidate, they come in groups. Three, at least."

Carlisle nodded. "That's as may be, but tomorrow we go to the police. We should inform the school, as well." Now he looked at Edward. "I'm not going to force you, but I'd suggest that you spend as little time in public as you can. No need to make it easier for them." He stood up. "Dinner should be ready soon."

"Wait," Edward said as Emmett stood too. "You're not going to send me back to the system?"

Carlisle looked at him like he was honestly surprised he'd suggest that. "Of course not. You're safer here with us than you'd be at Saguaro House."

"That's not what I–"

Now Carlisle's face changed as he understood. He came forward and put a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Edward. Don't worry. We're not going to turn you out just because of this." He smiled. "We weren't planning on ever turning you out at all, actually."

"Told you so," muttered Emmett.

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