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thanks to ezrocksangel for the rec & the fictionaters for the rec
and maylin & fats for continuing to be alive...

***

James stood next to me as I stared at the racks with benign curiosity. We were in JC Penney, awkwardly walking through mountains of clothes with no distinct purpose. The small strip mall in Port Angeles had very few stores, and somehow we ended up here. James picked up a barely-there bikini strapped lacy thing and shoved it in my face.

"What about this?" he probed. I was pretty sure that the amount of fabric in that piece of clothing wouldn't have been enough to cover a hamster.

"James, it's November," I replied instead. "I thought we were going shopping for new winter clothes."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, returning the shirt to its place. I ran my hand through a row of huge snow jackets with weird faux-fur ringing the hood like a freaky raccoon. I found the fabric annoyingly itchy. James pulled one on and zipped it up to his chin, pulling the hood over his head to form a giant faux-fur afro.

I snorted a laugh as he ran around in circles scaring all of the other customers.

"I'm the evil Eskimo coming to keeeel you!" he screamed. He jumped up behind a five-year-old and made her run away screaming and crying. I shook my head at his antics, but I couldn't deny that I found them amusing. We had been looking through the store for a good three hours, and all that had come out of the impromptu trip was three plain colored turtle necks. James told me I looked like an off-duty nun in them. I told him to fuck himself.

All was going well until the bitch brigade approached.

It was clear that they did not, in fact, shop at JC Penney. They had Nordstrom bags draped over their arms, the plastic rustling against their True Religion size 24 skinny-ass jeans. James was still chasing down unsuspecting victims. Their heels clacked a steady rhythm against the linoleum floor. I dodged their line of sight, ducking behind stray racks and shelves. They stalled for a moment, checking a loudly ringing phone playing Party in the USA. It caught me off guard and I dived behind a low shelf, landing on my knees. I held my breath and stared at the floor. There was a small circular stain about the size of a penny, just slightly darker than the light grey carpet, right in the middle of my vision.

"What is she doing on the floor?"

Shit.

"She probably just barfed her brains up like in PE. She totally did that. It was so gross, you don't even know."

"Oh my God you're right. I bet she's like, bulimic or something. There's that girl that's bulimic. I would say they were friends but I don't think she has any."

I slowly turned around. Three stilettos stared back at me, all three slightly different shades of red. I gulped and stood up slowly, keeping my eyes on the floor. Tanya, Lauren, and Jessica. Bitch brigade.

"Guys, she's actually shopping here. That is so gross. I heard all of these clothes had, like, lice or something."

Lauren said that. I knew for a fact that she had lice in the fourth grade. Everyone was afraid of catching it so no one would talk to her for the entire year, well after she was cured. I was pretty sure that was the bane of her existence, and the brief period of social outcast permanently haunted her memories.

They continued with the marginally insulting remarks, attempting to outdo each other's wit. They pretty much failed, especially when the contest ended with 'yeah, and she smells, too.' James finally approached. I didn't know what the hell he was doing, but he was still wearing the awful faux-fur snow jacket. I felt his hot breath on my neck when he got close enough.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Oh, she was just barfing on the carpet or something," Lauren politely filled in. There was a pause as James looked for the remnants of the supposed-vomit.

"I don't see any barf."

"That's because it's your face, duh!" That was Tanya. Of course that was Tanya. It was the only thing even closely resembling wit. I was pretty sure she was attempting to imply that James's face looked like barf. It was a stretch, of course. And I couldn't help but be a bit relieved when at least some of the negative attention was turned from me. I fingered the fabric of the turtlenecks in my arms and bit my lip. The shoe on the far right began to tap up and down with impatience.

"Can we go now? I'm totally over this." It was Jessica. In that moment I thought of her as my savior. They called something crude about my sucking James's dick on their way out, but it was partially disguised by the clacking of those damn stilettos they always wore. They wore them to make themselves feel superior. Because taller, in their book, was automatically superior. And damn it all to hell if that tactic didn't work. James sighed beside me, unzipping the jacket and throwing it on the shelf I had been ducking behind. He shuffled his feet from side to side. He was, for the first time, at a loss for words.

"Want to just buy those shirts and leave?"

"I don't want them anymore."

"Just get them. You need new clothes. Little B, you wear the same clothes every day. It's so freaking gross."

"Thanks."

"You know I'm not insulting you. Constructive criticism."

"I guess I just get it all confused."

James did something gentlemanly and purchased the three shirts. Of course, they were on sale for about 7 bucks each, but it was still a sweet gesture on his part. I returned home a little after dinner time to find Charlie snoozing loudly on the couch. Whatever game he was watching - how stereotypically Charlie, watching the game - was absolutely blaring. I turned off the TV with a click and half-heartedly attempted to rouse him from his state.

I had just sat down when a light knock at the door forced me to stand again. I then remembered that it was Edward, picking me up for another session with Carlisle the Counselor (with drugs). I called him that because that was what he was to me. I mean, I didn't not like Carlisle. He was all right I guess, until he began talking about stuff I didn't want to talk about. I tacked on the (with drugs) when he outright prescribed me some anti-depressants. He told me that I was clinically depressed, and gave me these huge ass pills that made me barf every morning like a pregnant woman. He took me off them soon after, but his actions allowed me to dub him the name Carlisle the Counselor (with drugs).

Edward stood outside my door with rain flecked in his bronze hair. It was matted down with droplets dripping from his sideburns and along his jaw, making me anxious and throbbing and no longer tired. The rain was coming down in sheets, framing him in a silhouette outside of my porch. We had yet to actually see the movie that he had suggested. It just never came about. I mean, we still saw each other in Spanish and all. But at lunch Edward basically disappeared. And I never saw him after school unless he was taking me to Carlisle, and that was just awkward. Just like today, he stood uncomfortably on the porch, his hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

"Hi."

"...Hey."

I followed him into the rain, hunching my shoulders against its slightly painful downpour. The heaters of his car were welcoming. I rubbed my hands back and forth in front of them, creating friction. Edward shifted the heat to a higher power, but his eyes stayed trained on the road before him. The windshield wipers whipped water recklessly. I sighed and stared at my hands, eager to be with Carlisle and away from the thick tension of Edward's car.

"So, do you not want to go anymore?" he asked suddenly. We were speeding on wet pavement. I gripped my seat.

"Go where?" His driving scared me.

"To the movie, I mean. We don't have to... if you don't want to." He stumbled through is sentence.

"I do want to. I just didn't know if that was real, I guess." I didn't realize I was thinking that until it came out of my mouth. I hated when that happened.

"What do you mean, not real?"

"Like, if you were just taking pity on me or something."

"Bella," he laughed. I loved his laugh. And I loved the way he said my name. I just loved it. "I eat in a bathroom stall."

So that was where he went at lunch. We were silent for the rest of the way. Edward's house was as dark as ever. Apparently Esme was out doing something, so Edward led me up to Carlisle's study himself. It felt as though Edward was still uncomfortable going into Carlisle's personal area, for he hovered outside the door. I knocked timidly and Carlisle answered almost immediately, opening the door with a gentle smile.

"Hello Bella."

His eyes still freaked me out.

Edward stayed until the door shut him out. I resumed my seat on the couch, quickly becoming a creature of habit. Carlisle sat down in his chair and pursed his lips, sticking a pen in between them. I could tell he was going to throw something new out there. His posture changed when he was going to try a different approach with me. Even Carlisle the Counselor (with drugs) couldn't hide all of his mannerisms, even though he tried so carefully.

"Do you remember how you felt the moment it was happening?"

I knew what he was getting at immediately. I stiffened up, blocking myself off.

"Are you asking if I liked it?" My tone was sharp. "Of course I liked it. Everyone likes fucking, right?"

Carlisle put down his pen and pinched the bridge of his nose. Like father, like son. I averted my eyes and stared at the green-brown carpet. The clock ticked incessantly in my ear. I wanted to throw it out the window. I wanted to throw it out the window and watch it land in a mess of glass and gears, so it would never tick again.

"But do you remember exactly how you felt?" he tried again. He kept his eyes on my face. Reading my expressions, I assumed.

"Not exactly," I admitted. "I mean, I wasn't exactly pushing him off of me. I didn't do that."

"Did you feel like you shouldn't?"

"I don't think I felt anything."

I pulled at a lose strand of fabric on the couch. It came out easily. Carlisle wrote something down quickly on his notepad, returning it to the side table in a flash. After the brief conversation he moved onto more neutral topics. Mostly the facts that I liked, simply about my day or my dad or anything of that sort. Edward tapped on the door the minute our hour was up, as he had been prone to do as of late. It was only about seven when we arrived at my house. I made to reenter the rain when Edward's voice stopped me.

"What about tonight?" he blurted out.

"Edward, context," I reminded him.

"Movies tonight. There's that scary movie thing in Port Angeles at 9." I had heard about that. Port Angeles was apparently feeling nostalgic towards Halloween, and in that spirit they were playing a constant string of scary movies in one of their theatres. A brief glance inside the window confirmed that Charlie was still asleep on the couch. I pulled at the hem of my sweatshirt before answering.

"Sure," I shrugged. He grinned at me before backing out of the driveway. The drive to Port Angeles was only thirty minutes or so, so we had a good half hour of sitting in a dark theatre together. It made me anxious as fuck, and it didn't even distract me when Edward attempted to make stupid jokes or when he paid for my ticket. He purposefully bought a huge bucket of popcorn to set between us. It gave me the space I so dearly needed.

The first movie in the marathon, and the only one we were seeing, was The Shining. Edward and I saw the movie together when we were in fifth grade just to say that we did it. Edward started crying from fear when Jack chased his son through the maze. We made eye contact during the same part that night, sharing a rare grin on our memory.

The tips of our fingers brushed several times. The occurrences were complete accidents, of course. Just accidents in the popcorn bin, jolts of electricity to keep me awake and stimulate my senses. The movie ended much too soon for my liking, and the small group of us filed out into the bright lights of the foyer. Edward clutched the popcorn to his chest. I didn't know why he saved it. Stale popcorn is gross.

"So, um, home?" he suggested. I nodded my response and we walked together to the car, hunched over and separated a bit like the classic uncomfortable couple.

The drive home was silent.

The walk to the door was silent.

And when his fingers gently and slowly brushed against my cheek in goodbye, I was silent.

***

mmmreview?(:

happy Halloween!