Disclaimer: The characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. No profits here.

Fourteen

I woke gasping, unable to catch my breath, shocked from a dream I couldn't remember. Panic set in as the darkness resolved into nothing familiar; this wasn't my bed, this wasn't my room, I wasn't wearing my clothes. I lurched upright, a hand at my throat.

Something clicked and my brain started to function, memories of the night rushing back.

As we'd been standing on the porch, staring with mixed reactions at the falling snow, headlights swung into view in the distance, slowly bobbing up the gravel drive. "Carlisle," Esme whispered, her relief obvious. Then, more firmly, "Let's get inside." At Emmett's grumble she insisted, "Come on." Looking at Jasper and Rosalie she added, "I know you both weren't raised by wolves."

"Low blow, Mom!" Emmett cried, flopping onto the loveseat across from the fireplace.

"I think Emmett was actually raised by gorillas!" Alice called, then darted towards the kitchen, somehow knowing he'd chase after her. He flung himself from the loveseat with a growl, launching himself over the breakfast bar as Alice disappeared around the corner. A loud crash shortly followed. Esme flinched at the noise but she didn't look angry.

"Clean that up!" she called. At Alice's giggle she added sternly, "Now!"

"Yes, Mom!"

Curiosity propelled me into the kitchen to find Alice and Emmett kneeling over the wooden bowls he'd knocked to the floor. A gentle hand on my shoulder stole my attention from them, Esme's voice soft as she said, "I think I should call your father."

I swallowed but the lump of anxiety in my throat didn't go away. Esme seemed to understand, rubbing my upper arm consolingly. "It wouldn't be safe to drive in this snow, even in the Jeep."

"We had to dig out the back tires five times last weekend," Rosalie groused. "I don't know why you insist on driving when the snow plows haven't been through yet."

"Babe, it's more fun that way!" Emmett had finished stacking the dishes and came to her side, wrapping a muscular arm around her waist.

"Nonetheless, it's dark out now and it simply isn't safe," Esme concluded. "What's your phone number, Bella?"

Alice rattled it off before I could speak and Esme dialed it into her cell. I felt the blood drain from my face as she listened to it ring. As if sensing my discomfort, Rosalie, Emmett, Jasper and Alice trailed back down to the basement. The distant sound of video games kicking back on soon drifted up the stairs. Edward remained, leaning against the counter, his expression worried.

"Hello? Chief Swan? This is Emse Cullen." Her voice was so warm and reassuring that I was almost comforted. My gaze flickered to Edward and I saw he was running his hands through his hair. I'd been so worried about my dad's anger with me, I didn't realize Edward might be picturing equally dreadful visions…probably along the lines of my dad coming after him with a shotgun.

"I'm so sorry we're not being introduced for the first time in person," Esme went on. "I have to apologize as well for the fact that I was so absorbed in a project that I didn't notice the weather." She paused and I could hear the faint sound of my dad's baritone through the earpiece.

"Yes, well, they were in the basement and weren't able to see the snow either." There was another pause as he spoke and I fidgeted, wondering what he was saying. "No, I agree. Driving in this weather would be reckless." Another pause. "I'm sorry to hear how many accidents you've dealt with today." She glanced down at me, a slight smile curling her lips as she listened to him. "We have a guest room with its own bathroom so it won't be a problem at all." I bit my lip, hoping my dad would trust her. "I'll be sure to get her home the moment the plows come through." Esme pulled the phone from her ear and gently said, "Your father wants to speak with you."

I took the phone reluctantly and turned my back, not wanting to see Edward's anxious eyes or Esme's reassuring calm. "Dad?" My voice was almost a whisper.

"Bells, listen," he started. "I know you're a good kid and these things happen." I exhaled, relieved. Neither one of us spoke for a moment and I tugged at the hem of my shirt nervously, not sure what to say. Finally, he gruffly finished, "Be careful."

"Okay, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow."

I handed the phone back to Esme, not sure how to hang up given all of the buttons on the face. She took it back with a smile and then called the Hales to let them know Jasper and Rosalie were staying the night.

After she hung up, a slight frown flitted over her face and her voice was faint, as though she was simply thinking out loud. "Now, I know Rosalie has clothes here but I don't think any of her things would fit you…Alice might have something you could wear to bed…"

"No." Edward's voice was curt, cutting in. His hair was beyond tousled, standing on end around his head; his expression was less nervous though, now that the phone call to my dad was over.

Esme looked up, her brown eyes understanding while mine were confused. "You're probably right."

"I know I'm right." He still sounded curt. Esme turned to me, her gaze trailing up and down my figure, assessing.

"We're about the same size. I'll find you something after I cook dinner."

"Do you need any help?" I asked, my voice soft. I still felt shy around her, despite how kind she'd been. I wasn't certain why I was so desperate she like me.

"I see what Carlisle meant, now," she laughed. "You are not at all a typical teenager."

Edward settled at the bar while Esme directed me around the kitchen, asking me to rinse a bundle of asparagus and a head of lettuce. As she turned on one of the burners, Dr. Cullen finally appeared around the corner, the shoulders of his wool coat damp with melted snow.

"I don't think it's ever taken so long to get up that drive. I wasn't sure the car would make it." He leaned down to kiss Esme's cheek and smiled at me in greeting. "Well, hello, Bella. Are you stranded her for the night?"

I blushed, glancing at Edward. "We were in the basement and didn't see the snow."

"And how is your hand doing?"

"Dad," Edward grimaced. "We're not at the hospital."

"Let me see," Carlisle ignored his son and reached for my wrist. I obediently turned it over, grinning at Edward's embarrassment. "If it were anywhere but the palm, it wouldn't have scarred," he muttered regretfully.

"Oh, it's alright. I have tons of scars. They add character."

"I disagree. Emmett has a ton of scars and no character," Edward replied.

"I bet I have more. Once you have more than five, that's when the character starts building," I insisted.

"Did I hear my name?" Emmett's heavy tread announced his arrival, appearing in the doorway to the basement. He snuck a hand around Esme and stole a carrot from the cutting board.

She smacked at his hand and said, "Bella was claiming to have more scars than you." My cheeks flamed but I didn't look away from Emmett's narrowed eyes.

"Bullshit."

"Language." Esme's voice was soft but ominous nonetheless.

"Sorry, Mom." Then, turning back to me, he rucked up the leg of his cargo pants. "Torn ACL when I was fifteen." The angry red lightening bolt ran down one side of his knee. "JV football homecoming game."

I took a deep breath, willing my gaze not to waiver from Emmett's challenging, amused stare. I lifted my hands and ran my fingers through my hair until I found the raised line above my ear. "Fell off the swings when I was eight. Six stitches." Emmett reached to where my fingers were buried in my hair, unhesitating. I glanced at Edward and saw his ears were pink, watching us with a strange expression.

Emmett grunted when he found the line then whipped around, lifting the back of his shirt. I could just make out a faint white blotch to the left of his spine. "Jumping over a fire pit on a dare," Esme's chuckle interrupted him. "A dare from Edward," he clarified. Carlisle, who had sat down at the bar, gave Edward a disapproving look. "I was fourteen."

"You didn't have to listen," Edward grumbled, looking down at his hands.

I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt, struggling to get it past my elbow. "Twelve stitches." Emmett came close, peering at the curving line on the soft inside of my upper arm. "I tripped and crashed into a French door at a restaurant. I was eleven." I blushed, remembering. We hadn't even sat down to eat. "It was my birthday."

"Oh, that's terrible," Esme breathed, full of sympathy.

I shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

Emmett had sunk to the floor and was ripping off a sneaker and sock. "Gross, Emmett. Are you trying to kill my appetite?"

"Shut up, Edward."

He revealed a foot speckled with curling hair and lifted his leg, flaunting the bottom. "Car accident!" Esme whipped around from the cutting board, looking down at her son with open surprise. I glanced over at Carlisle and Edward and saw the same shocked expressions on their features. Emmett was clueless, his grin victorious as he looked at me. I was decidedly confused but leaned forward to look at his foot. The scar was indeed grotesque, a mess of faint dots and dashes, as if he'd stepped on glass.

I raised my eyes and saw that Esme had turned back to the counter while Edward and Carlisle had regained their equanamity, their faces neutral. Internally shrugging, I thrust my barely healed left hand in Emmett's direction, the line there bright pink and raised. "Cooking dinner a week ago. Seven stitches."

Emmett scrambled to his feet, protesting, "You can't count one you just got!"

"Why not?" Carlisle was amused.

"Yeah, that doesn't seem fair," Edward sounded defensive.

"I—I have another," I stuttered. I could feel the blood flooding my cheeeks. "I just can't show you."

Emmett laughed. "No deal, Swan! Why should I believe you if I can't see it!"

I looked away, turning back to the sink where I'd been rinsing the vegetables. "We tied anyways, Emmett. So nevermind." I was sure I was the color of a beet.

"At least tell us where it is, Swan," he cajoled.

"No, Emmett." I tried to sound firm but my voice quavered with embarrassment.

"Please--"

"Enough, Emmett," Carlisle spoke, his tone brooking no argument. Emmett made grumbling noises but didn't say another word. I glanced at Carlisle, trying to communicate my thanks with my eyes. He just nodded, a smile flitting across his face.

Esme took advantage of our large numbers to use the formal dining room, asking Alice to set the table, ordering Emmett to fill up three carafes with water, her manner always so gentle that I couldn't see anyone refusing to do her bidding.

I attempted to disobey her when she tried to usher me out of the room after we'd all finished eating. Pretending as if I hadn't heard her, I began stacking dishes and silverware, avoiding her gaze as I tried to help clean up. She effortlessly disarmed me by simply saying, "Edward, would you take Bella downstairs?" I looked up, mouth agape at the underhanded tactic. Esme just smiled, clearly amused as Edward took the dishes from my hands and led me out of the room. "Nice try," she murmured as we passed her on our way out.

I stared into the darkness of the guest room, my eyes unable to make out even the faintest shape of furniture. The heavy curtains blocked out all light, so different from my bedroom at home.

I laid there for a moment longer before rising with an impatient sigh. I was wide awake, completely unable to figure out the time, and restless with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. I fumbled towards the direction of the door and found myself in a gloomy hallway, the house quiet around me.

Esme had shown me the guest room shortly after dinner, pointing out the pajamas she'd grabbed from her own dresser. The cotton pants were impossibly soft, patterned in a narrow stripe made up of blues and whites. A matching racerback tank was in the same pale blue, an eyelet ruffle adorning the neckline. I'd thanked her for lending me such pretty things, thinking of my own mismatched sweats and tees at home.

I glanced down at the pajamas now but concluded I was decently covered. Besides, no one appeared to be up anyways. I trailed down the steps to the main floor, wondering if I might be able to find a book to read to lull me back to sleep. Then I heard the faint sound of the television.

I padded through the kitchen and stopped in the doorway that led to the basement. The sound of Wii boxing was unmistakable. I glanced at the microwave and saw it wasn't quite five in the morning. Wondering who could possibly be up, I headed downstairs.

The recessed lights in the ceiling of the basement were set on dim but the sight of Alice balancing on the ottoman in her bare feet and pajamas was no less surprising. With wide eyes, I suddenly understood why Edward hadn't wanted me to borrow her clothes. Her tiny figure was garbed in what looked like satin shorts, the color a brilliant flamingo pink. The spaghetti straps of a matching camisole appeared to barely stay put on her narrow shoulders as she jabbed and punched, the Wii controller grasped in her hand.

I stumbled on the last step and Alice whirled, a grin splitting her features when she saw me. "Good morning, Bella! What are you doing up so early?"

"I could say the same thing," I smiled, approaching the sectional and taking a seat.

"Oh, I don't sleep!"

"Alice, that's impossible."

"Well, I don't sleep much," she shrugged and began punching and throwing her fists again.

"That'd be nice," I said faintly as I settled into the soft cushion, putting my feet up on the ottoman. "I sometime wish I could get by on less."

"It has it's downsides," Alice replied. "I was diagnosed with A.D.D. when I was seven." I looked up at her, startled not by the revelation but that she would share something so private with me. "The Ritalin didn't work so the diagnosis was changed to A.D.H.D." She didn't look at me as she spoke, her eyes fixed on the video game on the television screen. "They kept increasing the dosage, but I wasn't responding to normal therapeutic levels. So they added—" she grunted as she delivered an upper cut to her opponent. "—Dexedrine." My eyes only grew wider as she continued speaking, unable to imagine trying to rid Alice of her bubbly, manic energy. It was inherent to her nature. "When I started having panic attacks, I was given Xanax." She juked, her bare feet bouncing on the ottoman. "It was only when I started hearing voices and was admitted to the psych ward that someone questioned a thirteen year old girl being on so much medication."

Alice's voice had been casual, almost light, but my own was a hoarse, emotional whisper. "I'm so sorry."

She turned to me, her blue eyes surprised. "Oh, there's no need!" She hopped down from the ottoman and flung herself to the cushion at my side, curling her dainty legs beneath her. "I'm so lucky, Bella," she said softly as she took my hand. I couldn't believe she was comforting me and looked down guiltily. "Esme was volunteering at the hospital where I was admitted. There are very few people who are willing to take on a foster kid at such a late age, especially with my history."

I nodded. Though I'd just met Esme, she was clearly an amazing person. "Was this in Seattle?" I wasn't entirely comfortable asking questions but given everything Alice had just told me, it didn't seem out of line.

"Yes. I was admitted to Harborview. Carlisle didn't work on the psych unit but he was attending there." She paused, her eyes distant as she remembered. "Esme told him about me. He pulled strings to have me transferred to the children's hospital so I wouldn't have to be around the truly psychotic, people off the street, the whole place smelling like…" Her voice trailed away.

Impulsively, I threw my arms around her. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, she embraced me in return, a soft giggle bursting against my ear. "What is with you, Bella?"

"What do you mean?" I pulled back suddenly certain I'd offended her.

Alice grinned at me, her blue eyes bright as she considered me. "I knew I'd be friends with you the day you called Edward a total douche."

"I wasn't talking about him--"

She didn't let me finish. "But you've even got Emmett mentioning the car accident as if it's no big deal." My eyes widened, my mind beginning to make the connections, why Edward, Esme and Carlisle had reacted as they had during the Great Scar Match the night before.

"Car accident…?" I said faintly.

Alice tilted her head, her smile fading. "It's not my story to tell, Bella. But I--" She paused, glancing up at me. "I can tell you this much. It's how Emmett's parents died."

"And he was in the car," I added softy, my eyes going blank with the tragedy of such a thing. Alice just nodded.

Squeezing my hand, she leapt up, climbing back onto the ottoman. She grinned down at me, as light-hearted as before. "I can only discuss three serious things before breakfast and I'd better not max out my quota for the day." Alice turned back to the television. "Besides, I have a feeling Edward's going to put me over my limit."