Family

Dad came home not long later—by that point I had picked myself off the floor and had actually done something with my day—and said we'd been invited to Billy and Jacob's for dinner, so I changed clothes, bundled up leftovers, and slid into the cruiser next to him. I really hoped for a silent drive. "So, about this Hale boy…"

Damn. I could only be allotted so much luck a day, I supposed. "Yes?" I said warily.

Dad laughed. "Don't worry, honey. I don't like the idea of you dating; you're just seventeen, but he seems like an admirable boy. I approve as much as a father can approve of sharing his little girl with someone else."

I gave him a long-suffering look. "Thanks so much for your support," I said jokingly.

"Be careful, though, Alice."

"About what?" I was really hoping he wasn't going to talk about anything…embarrassing.

"I don't want you to give anyone the wrong idea."

Of course he was being vague. How typical. "About what?"

"I know some of the guys here are interested in you, and I wouldn't want them to get their feelings hurt. So just, you know, watch yourself."

"Dad, are you worried about them having the wrong idea, or my friendliness being misconstrued as skankiness?" I asked exasperatedly.

"Er…both," he admitted sheepishly.

I sighed. "I will absolutely do my best, especially where Jacob is concerned, because I know that's what you were getting at."

He smiled at me. "That's my girl."

Billy's tiny house overflowed with all of us in it. Jacob was thrilled with the leftovers, and Billy pretended not to be. "Do you distrust my cooking expertise?" he asked with mock offense.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because buying ready-made pizza and pasta at the grocery store is really hard to do."

We laughed as Billy pantomimed ramming Jacob in the ankles. It was a good Sunday dinner—of course, it was centered on NFL football, and I filled Jacob in about Victoria and my birthday. I managed to catch myself just before mentioning Dad's failure of a cake. He could tell, though, and he shot daggers at me in a loving way. Jacob seemed to take my references to Jasper in stride, and I appreciated knowing that he wasn't lying to me. I was glad he and I thought of each other as good friends. I noticed Billy looking at me curiously several times throughout the night, his ancient eyes peering out of his leathered, wrinkled blanket of a face, but he didn't say anything until we were about to leave. Jacob and my dad were out in the yard, and Billy caught me by the arm.

"Happy late birthday, Alice. I'm glad to see you're doing well, but I wanted to ask you to be careful," his melodious voice resonated.

It was my turn to be curious. "I will, Billy. I'm always careful," I replied.

"What I meant was, be careful about whom you count as friends."

"Er…okay, but I really have—"

"Alice, please don't do what you're doing. Don't be friends with him," he pleaded.

I was utterly confused. "Why?"

"I don't think it's very safe for you, that's all," he said defensively. "I don't think you realize what he's like."

I rolled my eyes. "Billy, is this about that legend? Because if it is, I think it's complete bull-shenanigans—no offense—but I don't want to judge someone before I know him."

"Jake wasn't supposed to tell you that," he muttered darkly. "Anyway, be that as it were, just remember what I said, and think about it. Don't judge someone before getting to know him, but don't let any preconceived notions cloud your judgment," he said with a brighter tone. He was staring directly at my head at the 'preconceived notions' part. I was starting to feel like everyone knew about my pseudo-psychic dreams.

"Okay, Billy," I replied cautiously. I assured him I'd see him soon because Jacob might require an editor for his English papers, or so he told me. On the dark drive home, Dad could tell I was thinking heavily on something, so he asked what's up. "I don't think Billy likes Jasper…at all," I said even more cautiously, knowing Dad's feelings on people who didn't like the Cullens.

"Are you sure he's not just upset you're not more interested in Jake?"

I looked at him. "Dad, isn't he like, fifteen?"

"Well, you're seventeen, and Jasper's interested in you, and he's eighteen," Dad retorted.

Well, actually… I thought to myself. "I think this is something more. He kept warning me not to 'do what I'm doing', which I can only assume is code for, 'Keep away from the Cullens.'"

Dad's jaw set angrily. "Yeah, and Billy and Jacob stopped going to the doctor when the Cullens moved to town, too," he muttered.

"Why?" I asked. "Is it because of that stupid story?" Even though the Cullens were the Cold Ones, that still didn't explain why the Quileutes wouldn't like them.

"I guess so," he conceded. "Billy hasn't exactly told me any of their stories… probably because I think they're a bunch of superstitious fools, but they're friends, practically family." He fell silent for the rest of the drive, leaving me to my own thoughts. Jasper was still hunting, so I framed and arranged yesterday's pictures and fell asleep reading a book on the Civil War that my grandfather had given me. The romanticism of Gone with the Wind was lost on me after the second showing—I thought Scarlett was stupid—so my views of the Civil War had always been clouded, but of course Jasper made it interesting. I wanted to learn more about anything he'd been a part of, and the vain part of me didn't want to look ignorant.

I didn't feel the compulsion to be early for school. I felt tired and overdrawn from the busy weekend, but I dragged myself out nonetheless. As an experiment, I put setting mousse in my hair and let it run wavy and free; Dad looked at me with surprise over the rim of his coffee cup on my way out the door. It had turned bitterly cold and windy; Dean complained loudly as his cold engine struggled to turn over. Jasper was leaning against Edward's Volvo when I got to school. His face split into a smile as I approached. "I like what you've done to your hair," he said, tugging at the ends playfully before taking one of my small hands in his.

"Everyone is staring at us, you know," I said casually.

"So?" His grin and amber eyes were irresistible. And that was that.

Not that anyone else would let that dismissal rest. I was bombarded all day. The most typical comment was, "Well, it looks like someone had a good weekend." And they were right. I told everyone we weren't dating, but I don't think anyone bought it, including me. I managed to pay a phenomenal amount of non-attention in my classes, and I had to cock my head and say, "Sorry, beg your pardon?" on more than one occasion. Academia was so disinteresting, especially when you read ahead over the weekend anticipating how little attention you'd pay in class.

I had to admit that the open stares and gawking I encountered when Jasper beckoned me to sit with him at lunch were kind of fun. "How was your Sunday?" he asked lightly.

I rolled my eyes. "Pass. And yours?"

"Better than yours, I'm going to guess."

"My dad and I went to La Push, and what would have otherwise been a fun night was spoiled by my dad's superstitious best friend telling me to stay away from your family or else," I said.

"This is very interesting…" Jasper pursed his lips. "Or else what?"

"Dunno," I shrugged, biting into my bagel. "He didn't say what would happen. Okay, so he didn't explicitly say 'or else'—minor detail. But he did clearly convey that he doesn't like your family and doesn't want me to be around you. Why doesn't he like you?"

"None of the Quileutes do, but I suppose he's trying to protect you," he remarked.

I growled through my teeth. "I can stand up for myself."

He laughed. "I don't doubt it. You know what the interesting thing about this is?"

"What?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow as I twirled the stem of my apple.

Jasper leaned in as if he were about to reveal a big secret. "Jacob was not supposed to tell you those legends," he whispered.

I popped my open palm onto the table and shook my head, pulling back. "Can I please know what's going on? Billy said Jacob wasn't supposed to tell me, you said he wasn't supposed to tell me… I'm sorry, but I'm failing to see the existential purpose of this."

The bell rang, accentuating my point, and I groaned as I hoisted my bag to my shoulders, preparing to turn around and head to class. Jasper tugged on my strap. "This is exactly why this"—he gestured broadly with his hand—"is so dangerous for you. If vegetarian vampires were all there was to it, this would be a cakewalk," he whispered, sending cold fire dancing on my spine. "There is so much more to know…it's all very complicated-"

"Then teach me," I said boldly, sticking my jaw out.

He considered me for a moment, feeling me out with his ability, then he swallowed and dazzled me again with his eyes and smile. "Okay, then, Miss Alice. To Calculus, shall we?"

I didn't get my answers right away. I forced myself to pay attention in Calculus—I'd just bombed a quiz and couldn't afford to sidestep anything else for the rest of the midterm. Despite being in a senior class, math really wasn't my forte, and it came slowly to me. I threw myself into the lecture as wholeheartedly as I could. The rest of my day was pretty breakneck; then came grocery shopping, making a halfhearted attempt to cook something new with the inexhaustible supply of fish in the freezer, and catching up on Candide, which is to say that I read the entire book because the test was tomorrow. I stumbled up to my room and collapsed on my bed, not intending to sleep but grateful for the stillness. Until, of course, the phone rang.

"Hello, this is Vickie Hanson with Seventeen, and I'm looking for Alice Brandon. Is she available?"

"Um…speaking," I floundered. I wasn't sure if my confusion could grow any more.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions for an article, if you don't mind."

The pieces fell into place. "Oh, right, about my sister. Sure, I can give you anything you need."

"Well, actually, we already interviewed her sister, and we felt the piece was a little bit…dry." she twittered nervously. "We'd like to interview you because of how much your sister talked about you, and we felt it would be a nice companion piece. Two sides of the same coin, if you will."

"Um…sure," I repeated lamely. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, to start, why did you leave pageantry just as you were rising to the top?"

I couldn't hold back a laugh. "I was hardly near the top, but I just didn't really feel like it was my thing."

"Not your thing. How could that trendsetting lifestyle not be your thing?" she asked incredulously.

"I just…" I shrugged. "I'm more into photography and music…and history," I added. "Modeling was more of my mom's idea."

"Your mother…is she the reason you moved to Washington?"

"No," I lied adamantly. "I wanted to get to know my dad better, and a change of scenery seemed nice."

"What is your relationship like with your mother?"

I didn't like this question. "My mother and I…are very different people, but we love each other," I said as truthfully as I could.

She asked me a few inconsequential questions about my hobbies, academics, and my adjustments to Washington and then hung up. I fell asleep soon afterward and passed it out of my mind. The next two weeks were a complete whirlwind of midterms shoved in before the Thanksgiving holiday. My afternoons unfortunately didn't include Jasper as much as I wished, but he came over almost every night. I learned that by telling me the legends, Jacob had broken some vampire treaty made with the Quileutes that as long as the vampires didn't hunt on Quileute lands or change any humans, that the Quileutes wouldn't reveal them. I immersed myself in my budding friendship with Kate, relationship with Jasper, and schoolwork, leaving little time for anything else. It was maybe two weeks after the interview, which I'd forgotten about, when I got a phone call. I picked up the phone and heard one long, irate shriek, followed by a banging noise, like someone pounding a phone into a table. Dad's phone didn't have caller ID, and I passed the call off as a prank.

The next day, I came home from school to find a fat, overnight envelope. I ripped the tab open curiously and tipped it over to find several items. The largest and most colorful was the December issue of Seventeen. Suddenly, I did not have a good feeling in the pit of my stomach anymore. I glanced at the cover and knew my bad feeling was right. The dual headliner read "Inside The Limelight: Rising Star Revealed, Sister Tells All." I tore through the magazine to the article. The whole thing was terribly, horribly, cataclysmically wrong. "In a modern-day Cinderella tale, one daughter is favored while the other is the victim of a mother's hatred," the exposé read. The article proceeded to misquote me and talk about fictional physical abuse given to me. It detailed a mostly-untrue life of fantastic opulence while I got second-best of everything and included doctored photos of me with bruises. The quote about my mother that I gave her? Well, it was changed to, "My mother is a very complicated woman. She was diagnosed bipolar, and I guess that I'm her form of emotional Tylenol."

I threw the magazine down on the kitchen table, unable to stomach any more. Then I noticed brightly colored pictures spilling over the table. I recognized them as family photos. My face was cut out of all of them. Next I picked up a newspaper clipping with a bold headline proclaiming FORMER TEEN QUEEN FOUND DEAD. The clipping from the Biloxi paper talked about my apparent death of anorexia, stating that I'd moved to Washington to seek treatment with my father (true) and that I'd succumbed (false) and that my family was terribly grieved and would hold a private memorial service (also false).

I stared at the hateful contents of the envelope, finally understanding that my mother had faked my own death and Seventeen had slandered me. The newspaper clipping shook in my hand. I couldn't breathe. I felt the walls of my desiccated lungs constricting and collapsing in on themselves. I had taken so many low blows from her without a complaint, but this was beyond everything else combined. I slid down along the wall, slumping in on myself, curling up. In its self-defense, my mind wouldn't allow me to think or do anything else. I'm not sure how long I sat there, but it couldn't have been more than an hour. For once, I felt no urge to punish myself by starving. I felt the urge to drown myself in comfort food. I grabbed my keys and drove in a slow daze to the Cullens'. Jasper met me at the door. It didn't take an empath to sense my emotions, I was sure. "Alice what…"

I stopped him. "I'm sorry; I really need to see Esme. I'll explain later. Promise." My voice sounded so wooden, so calm. I was surprised I could talk at all, considering the gorge of bile rising in my throat. I took a few deep breaths, sensing Jasper's distress, and wandered up the stairs to Esme's boudoir, where she was sitting on the couch humming over color swatches. She smiled when she saw me, but her face fell quickly. I sucked in my breath to steady myself. "I got a letter from my mother today," I said conversationally. "I died. Who knew?"

I dropped the envelope onto the table and watched her lovely, shocked face as she took in the newspaper article detailing my demise, the magazine interview gone awry, the photos. I thought I could deal with this until she looked into my eyes. Her glorious eyes were so grief-stricken. "Dearest Alice…" she breathed, and her face crumpled. I felt mine mirror hers as I melted into her arms. She played with my hair, stroked my back, and rocked me as I cried stormily. I'd never cried like this before. The sobs were loud and animalistic. They frightened me, as did the wave of loss that swept over my body.

When my sobs finally abated just enough so that I could speak, I choked out, "I don't know why I care. But she gave birth to me. She raised me. Why doesn't she want me?" Next came shaking that scared me almost as much as the feral sobs that ripped my throat apart.

Gradually my body calmed itself, and then I felt very tired. Esme held me for a long time without saying anything. She'd noticed I'd begun to shiver from the slight cold of her skin, and she pulled a woolly throw blanket over me. "Alice," she said finally, "did you ever hear how Carlisle found me?"

"Not the whole story," I replied.

"Well, he set a broken leg of mine when I was a girl trying to climb a tree, but he changed me after the death of my child. I married a man who was abusive, and I left him after I found out I was pregnant. The poor dear came early and was very sick. He died in my arms a few days after birth. That's why I jumped off the cliff, you know."

Shock pelted my brain. "Jazz s-said you f-fell," I stammered.

She smiled, still stroking my hair. "He's much too kind. I had every intention of dying. I couldn't see how any good could happen to me." She was quiet for a while, and then she said, "Alice, as someone who has lost a child, I can't begin to imagine why anyone would lose one voluntarily. I know I am not the woman who gave you life, and I'm not trying to replace the hole she's left. But I love you. You are a beautiful, brilliant, big-hearted lady, and I am so very proud of who you are and what you do. Anyone with an ounce of sense would consider herself lucky to be your mother. The woman who gave you life might not realize what a blessing you are and she may not want you, but I do," she finished fiercely.

I didn't know what to say or do; my heart rose to my throat. I felt a hand on my shoulder; Carlisle had appeared. "Esme is telling the truth, Alice," he said quietly. "You are very much wanted by all of us."

I looked up at him. I felt five years old again. "Thank you, Carlisle," I said quietly. He bent and ghosted his lips across my cheek gently before he scooped up his things and left.

I turned back to Esme and slid off her lap. "Thank you for being my mother," I said, kissing her graceful cheek.

"Thank you for letting me be," she said simply, rising and pressing her lips to my forehead.

I wandered down the hallway to Jasper's room. He was sitting on the low couch/bed tuning his guitar and strumming chords absentmindedly. He set it aside and stood when I came in the room. "I hope you were eavesdropping so I don't have to go through all of that again," I said matter-of-factly.

He smiled slightly. "I didn't have to eavesdrop. I think everyone heard you." He wrapped his arms around me, letting his feelings run straight to my heart while he languidly traced my curves and contours with his fingertips. He filled me with love, steadfastness, strength—one of the many ways he told me I was adored and wanted.

I heard Edward playing a twinkling melody on the piano downstairs. "Mmm, that's nice," I said contentedly. "What is it?"

Jasper crushed me to his chest gently. "It's something he wrote. It's for you." his bass voice rumbled musically in his chest. My eyes went wide. I was too touched to say anything.

He swayed me gently as we listened to the notes of the song flow around us. He smoothed his fingertips over my hair, my cheekbones, across my lips, sparking tiny wildfires everywhere he touched. "Alice…I know that us trying to be your family is like…like how tofu must be compared to real meat…okay, that's a terrible comparison, since I haven't ever had tofu and haven't eaten for a long time... But you are wanted; you are loved by all of us, especially me. I'm really bad at this. I've never done this before. I didn't even think it was possible for me to do this. But you…you are gorgeous and brilliant and you have this spirit that leaves me speechless…and I love you." He looked at me seriously.

I knew this moment had been coming, but it was much less final and fatalistic than I thought it would be. I took a deep breath. "I love you, too, Jasper Hale."

A slow grin split his face. He kept his eyes on mine as he slowly leaned in and kissed me. My heart stopped along with my breathing. My God, he was a good kisser. His hand moved to tangle in my hair as I slid my arms tighter around him. He pulled away far too soon, but I guess it was okay that he did, because my knees had literally knocked together like a colt's, and they were starting to buckle. He cupped my face in his hands and smiled again. "Well, that was an interesting experiment."

I sucked in some much needed oxygen. "I wouldn't mind if we, you know, practiced…worked out the kinks," I joked, except that I meant every word.

He humored me and laughed. "We've got all the time in the world, little lady," he said, pressing his lips softly to mine as he spun me around. Downstairs Edward's song transformed into something tempestuous and delightful. I was with the family that made me whole. For once, I had a home forever and always.