Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or the characters. Thanks a million to my beta, CrystalRaindrop!

Age Chart

Alice: 14, Jazzy: 17 Em: 20 Rose: 19

I'm a house of cards
In a hurricane
A reckless ride
In the pouring rain
She cuts me and the pain
Is all I wanna feel
She'll dance away just like a child
She drives me crazy
Drives me wild
But I'm helpless when she smiles

~ Helpless When She Smiles - The Backstreet Boys

When She Smiles — Chapter Twenty

Previously...

Alice.

Even thinking her name sent wave after wave of painful anticipation through me.

It had been so long. Was her hair still long? Was she still the little girl I knew? Or was she a young woman now? Had she gotten taller, or was she as short as always? Was she still afraid of the thunder? And, most importantly, was she OK? Would I be hurting her by coming back?

It was far too late now to consider turning around. I couldn't. Even if I wanted to, I wasn't sure I could physically force myself to move from the seat of the cab. I didn't think I could make myself go in any direction that wouldn't lead me directly to her.

Alice...

I looked out the window, and a tiny smile flickered on my lips as I began to recognize the scenery.

I'm coming. Wait for me... please...

June 14th - 9:00 AM - Alice POV

"So, what are we doing today?" I asked, feeling as light as a feather as James broke into a run. I laughed as we stumbled across the wide, open field of the park. We didn't stop, however; we continued onward, leaving the lush, green grass of the park behind. He just shrugged, a contagious smile upon his lips.

"You'll see," he said, and I nodded, considering this.

"Victoria and Laurent weren't waiting at the park, were they?" I guess, and he laughed loudly.

"You caught me," he admitted. "Victoria actually had a dentist appointment today, and Laurent tagged along. So, I figured we could do something together." He slowed down, no longer running but instead simply walking fast. "You... you do wanna hang out with me, right?" he asked hesitantly, and Alice nodded, smiling softly.

"Of course! And I really do want to explore the river, too. It sounds like a lot of fun!" She paused for a moment, then continued. "We are going to the river, right?"

James nodded, walking now, his pace slowed even further. "Yeah. I... I have a surprise for you!"

"Really? What is it?" I asked, excited. And then he turned to look at me, and I felt my heart flutter. It was a strange feeling for me, because I hadn't felt anything like this in over three years. No other boy besides Jasper had ever made me this excited, this happy about life. It still wasn't the same, of course. But it was still fun. It was still... really nice. I liked holding his hand, and having him smile at me. And, of course, part of me was screaming that it was just because I didn't like being alone. And someone was finally paying attention to me. Why wouldn't that make my cheeks flush, and my heart race? But the other part of me was scared that I did feel something for this boy. I didn't want to... but at the same time, I did. What if? What if ... Jazzy never came back? I was fourteen. He'd left me, and I didn't want to be alone forever, waiting for him.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise," James teased, snapping me from my thoughts. "But, between you and me... it's a picnic," he said, and he glanced at me from beneath his shaggy hair, waiting for my response.

He needn't have worried.

"Oh my gosh!" I squealed. "That's awesome! A picnic by the river."

I was still smiling as we began to walk through the thin foliage that led to the river. But with every step we took, something inside of me — small, but growing larger every moment — screamed at me to turn around. Not because I was afraid of James, but because I was afraid of feeling something for him. How often did someone take their best friend on a picnic by the river? Not often, I was sure. James...

I bit my lip.

James probably felt something more. Even though it had only been a few days. He obviously wanted to be something more than my friend. I didn't think he would force that on me, but it still scared me. Was I setting him up for disappointment? Because I wasn't sure...

I sighed. It didn't matter, anyway. It was just a picnic, and I was blowing things out of proportion.

I shook my head to dispel the thoughts that were confusing me and making me feel sad when I should be happy. James noticed the motion, and stared at me, confused. I stared back, my eyes meeting his. I felt my cheeks flush once more, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of his hand in mine, warm and comforting

"Are we there yet?" I asked, trying to distract him from me. It worked — he smiled and looked away.

"Almost," he promised, and as we continued to walk along, hand in hand, I decided it didn't matter. Sure, I was unsure. But... this was life. Life was never certain, and it generally didn't make sense. Maybe I shouldn't be hanging out with James so much. But then again, maybe he could make me happy. I didn't know, and I didn't want to worry about it. There was a chance — a large chance — that we would both end up hurt.

But... as sick as it was, I took comfort in the fact that James couldn't hurt me any more than I had been hurt before. Nothing could hurt that badly.

Jazzy, is it bad to be happy right now? To be happy... without you?

June 14th - 11:45 AM - Jazzy POV

"We're here," the cabbie announced, and I nodded, thanking him silently. I passed a few twenty dollar bills over the top of the seat, and carefully folded my large frame out of the car door. I grabbed my lone bag, and tossed it over my shoulder as I took in the view of the house in front of me.

It was still empty, and dark inside. The door was closed, and probably locked. The front window had been replaced, I noticed. There was no longer glass on the front lawn, or blood on the doorstep. I glanced up, and smiled bitterly as I looked at my window. It was closed now, of course. But...

I shivered, and it had nothing to do with the weather. It was actually pleasantly warm outside, despite the clouds that threatened to begin pouting down rain on me at any moment. Instead, my reaction was because of the memories that flooded back as I stared at the window that I had used so many times to escape my own personal hell.

The difference was that, this time, I had nowhere to run. I couldn't run to Alice, like I used to. I couldn't climb in through her window, and let her hold me and chase away all the demons.

... it made my knees weak to realize that I almost wished I could go back to that, to all of the pain and the horror. Simply... simply so that I could have my baby girl hold me again, to whisper in my ear and tell me everything would be all right. If it hadn't been for what had happened to Rose, and my mom...

I sighed, and shook that thought from my head. I had more important things to concentrate on right now. The most important of which, of course, was Alice. It was only a few miles to her house.

Should I go there? What was I going to do? Just... knock on her door? Or maybe I should call first, warn Esme or Carlisle that I was coming. But... what if they didn't want me to come? What if Alice was happy, and they didn't want me to ruin it for her?

I could feel the cold worming its way inside my jacket, chilling me slowly. I shivered, and sighed once more.

There really was only one option. I had to see her. There really wasn't any other way.

No matter what was waiting for me, or what her reaction was, I had to see her.

I took a deep breath, turned my back on the house in front of me, and began walking in the direction that I knew would lead me to my baby girl.

12:30 PM - Alice POV

Dear Jazzy,

I paused then, because I wasn't sure what to write. I was sitting in my room now, an hour after James had dropped me off at my house. The picnic had been lovely. More than that, it was amazingly fun. Even if he did make me sit in the grass. I frowned, my eyes flickering over at the jeans I had been wearing.

The fact that I had sacrificed my jeans (for a day or two, anyway — until mom got around to washing the laundry) meant that he was fairly important to me.

I turned back to my journal, shaking my head and trying to remember what I had been meaning to write.

Dear Jazzy, I began again. I know it's been a while since I've written. I'm sorry. I've been a little busy. James and Victoria and Laurent come over every day now.

I'm confused, Jazzy. I haven't talked to you in over three years. I haven't heard from you at all. No letters, no phone calls... nothing. But there's still this burning fire in my chest every time I think about you. It doesn't heart so terribly much anymore. ... no, it still does. But it's something more now. It's a yearning, to see you.

But now there's James. He's nice. And... he likes me. Or, at least I think he does. He said something, in passing, today. I didn't respond, and he just continued talking. I don't know what he meant by it, and I was too nervous to ask.

I think I like him, too, but ... it's not the same. I think I could be happy with him. He's a nice guy, and he's in my grade. But...

...I don't know. Lately, it seems ... I can't help but think you're coming back. I don't know how, and I don't know why. It doesn't make sense to me, this feeling. But I feel that... I need to wait, just a little longer. I feel almost that if I give into James, you'll come back and I'll lose you.

And this feeling scares me. I want you to come back. I want you to hold me in your arms again, to tell me you love me and call me your baby girl.

I still have that necklace, you know. The one you gave me when I turned three. It hangs above my bed, chasing away the bad dreams and soothing me so I can sleep. You gave me your heart when I was three, and I've always held it for you. I'm still holding it, I think, and I'll hold it for as long as you need me to.

I love you so much, Jazzy. My best friend. My protector. And, if you ever come back, my one true love.

I'll wait, Jazzy. Just a little longer, because I feel that if I don't, I could lose something amazing. I could lose you.

So... come quickly, Jazzy.

Your best friend,
Alice

I put my pencil down, slowly closing my journal and tying the bow that sat on top of it. I was so engrossed in this task that I didn't see my mother walk into the room.

"Alice?" she asked quietly, and my head shot up, my eyes moving frantically to find hers.

"Hey, momma," I whispered, and she smiled, moving over to my bed to sit beside me. I placed my journal on the bed next to me, and turned to face the woman who had always been there to hold me when I needed a shoulder to cry on. She stared back, a tiny smile on her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes. I frowned, reaching out to gently brush my hand against her cheek. "Are you OK, Momma?"

She nodded, and reached out to take my hand in hers, holding it to her cheek.

"I love you, Alice," she said quietly, and I could hear my heart beating fast in my chest. Worry twisted into knots in the pit of my stomach; was something wrong? I almost voiced the question, but just then she continued, her voice more sure than it had been before. "I've noticed you seem really preoccupied lately. Is it this new boy?"

I somehow didn't think she was here to talk about James, but I followed the conversation, knowing that her reason for entering my room would appear soon enough. I shrugged. "James, Victoria and Laurent, you mean?" I asked, purposely grouping the names together. I shrugged again. "Sure. They're fun to play with. It's nice to have friends who are as bored during summer as I am."

"Is that all?" she probed gently. "You can always talk to me, you know. And I've noticed you've been spending every moment that you're home in here, writing in your journal. Whatever it is," she said, and she brushed a lock of soft, black hair behind my ear. "You know you can always talk to me."

I nodded fervently, smiling now. "Of course I know that. And..." I paused, considering my words carefully. I didn't want to worry my mom, but ... I wanted to tell someone of the irrational feelings I'd been getting lately, about Jasper coming back. It had been getting stronger every day. I wasn't sure how I knew, but I did. I knew — or, at least I hoped I did — that he was coming back. That I would see him. "I... I've been thinking about Jasper a lot lately."

Momma nodded slowly; it seemed as if she was taking a moment to digest my words. "And?" she probed, wanting me to say a little more before she took over the conversation.

"And... his birthday — his eighteenth birthday — is tomorrow."

My mother drew in a slow, deep breath.

"And... I dunno," I continued, feeling silly now. "I think he'll come back. Maybe not to stay, of course... he still has a year of school yet. But I... I just feel it, Momma. I feel like he's closer to me than he has been in a long, long time."

"Alice..."

But she wasn't sure what to say. I could see it on her face. I knew that she thought I was being silly, but I wasn't! For as long as I could remember, I had been really good at predicting people's intentions, and their feelings. It had only grown more potent with age. It was how I knew James liked me, and how I always knew, before anyone else, who was going to hook up at school. It was stronger with the people I loved, of course. And Jasper was the one I loved more than anything.

"I know he may not, Momma. I realize that this could all be something that I've just... dreamed up, I guess. But ... I don't know. I just feel it, and I can't ignore it."

"I don't want you to get hurt anymore, baby," she whispered, and her eyes flashed with pain. But, before I could even begin to try and understand what I'd seen, she had composed herself and was speaking again. "Jasper has hurt you a lot. Not on purpose, I know," she added as I opened my mouth to object to her words. "But he hurt you a lot by leaving."

"Not by leaving," I corrected. "By not writing. It wasn't a big deal that he left — I mean, it was. But it was only three years we'd be apart. He'd come back. That was the plan. But then... then he stopped writing. And calling. And... he forgot about me. completely."

My eyes fell away from hers then; they burned with tears that I didn't want to shed.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered, and I looked up again, because I could hear the tears in her voice, too. But they were different from mine. Mine were sad; hers were regretful, and her eyes were full of apology when I finally caught her gaze.

"Don't be sorry, Momma," I whispered, not understanding. "It wasn't your fault."

"But what if it was, Alice?" she whispered, and her voice cracked now. Her tears fell without pause. She clasped my hands in hers, and as she touched me — her hands cold as ice — I felt a wave of shock and pain shoot through me.

"What... do you mean? How could it be your fault? You couldn't have made him write. I mean, it was his choice, and — "

But she cut me off then, and her words echoed through my head, reverberating and silencing me. How could I speak? There was nothing to say.

"I hid the letters, Alice," she confessed, her words coming in a rush. Her voice broke again as she choked on a sob. "I hid them all. Dozens of letters, both from Jasper and from you. They're all in my closet, just sitting there, yours never sent and his never opened."

I just stared at her, shock clear in my eyes. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even think.

"Momma..."

"I'm so sorry, Alice," she said, and she was begging me to understand. "It was a horrible thing to do, and I realize that now. I just didn't want him to hurt you anymore. A clean break. I thought — "

"You thought wrong!" I finally cried, and I was on my feet without even realizing it. Tears were finally falling, and now that the dam had been broken, I couldn't seem to hold them in. "I needed him! I love him! I would have done anything, gone through anything, waited as long as I needed to! And now... he thinks I'm not talking to him. He thinks I abandoned him, when he needed me most."

And that was it for any sense of control I'd had. I ran out of the room, weeping and shaking and not even sure where I was going.

He needed me. He loved me. He had written — possibly every single day — and he believed that I'd given up on him, that I'd moved on, that I'd forgotten him and didn't want him... that I didn't love him.

I only knew he was feeling those things, because I had been, too, for over three years. I'd believed that he'd given up on me, that he didn't love me.

I didn't even realize where I was until my fingers — numb with shock — were roughly shoving my mother's closet door open. I quickly tore through everything, looking, searching...

I found them. In a small shoebox. Dozens of letters. Mine, all in pink envelopes with my messy scrawl written all over them. Jasper's, in plain white envelopes, all elegantly addressed. Addressed... to me.

Dear Alice,

How are you doing? I love you, and I miss you. A lot.

Life hasn't changed very much. I still go to school — a new school, but that's not much different...

And the next one, much the same as the first.

Dear Alice,

I saw a little girl today that reminded me of you. She was so small, and her hair was in pigtails, just like you used to wear yours...

I tore open another, not caring as the envelope ripped in half. And then another, and another...

Dear Alice,

It's raining. Like, non-stop. It reminds me of Forks. Of home. Of you...

Dear Alice,

School is boring. Home is boring. Life is kind of slow. It's kind of nice... not having to fear every single day...

Dear Alice,

I saw a journal today. I almost bought it for you, but then realized that you already have a size-able stack from me. Every birthday... and you rarely write in them...

I laughed a little through my tears. I was on the last of those. There had been like, six of them. And they'd all been filled up with thoughts and memories of Jasper.

Dear Alice,

I won't write again. I figure that, if I give you some space, some time, that maybe you could heal a little. I'm trying so hard to be perfect for you, baby girl. I'll do anything. Am I not trying hard enough? I can try harder. Anything. It doesn't matter.

I began sobbing again, harder than before, as I finished reading the last one.

"No, Jasper!" I yelled, and I pounded my fist into the floor, not even caring as a shock of pain shot through my fingers. I yelled, unintelligible words this time. And then there were a pair of arms around me. I didn't fight them, even though I knew they were the arms of the one who had caused all of this pain — my mother. I needed to be held, comforted. I needed to be loved.

"I love him..." I whimpered, and I buried my face in her neck. She just rocked me back and forth, humming softly.

"I know, baby... I know. I'm so sorry. So ... so sorry. Nothing I can ever say will make up for this."

I silently agreed, but even thinking it made me feel horrible. So I cried harder; it was the only thing I could think of to do.

Jasper... please...

"I love him..." I cried again, and I knew that, though the words were true, they probably didn't change anything.

... please still be waiting for me... I still love you... I always will...

"Jasper..."

And then my vision blacked out, and I didn't feel anything.

I realize that the sneak peak isn't in this chapter. But without the chapters pre-written, that's bound to happen, especially when my writing rages out of control...

NOTE: Nothing to say. I'm trying not to break the mood I'm in. It's the mood that you're probably in, too. The OMG mood. Yeah.

Please Review! ( I accept Anon. reviews, too! )

NEXT CHAPTER:

"I've lost my chance," I murmured numbly, and I dropped my head into my hands, trying to block out the world.