Chapter 37

"Sometimes hearing the truth takes more courage than speaking the truth."
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

Bella

Edward got his cast off today. Instead of the royal blue fiberglass, his hand is now encased in a black brace. You'd think he'd be happy about it, but his expression when he walks into homeroom is the same as always—neutral with his eyes on the floor. I look at the calendar in my binder and realize with a start that it's been six weeks since he broke his hand. Six weeks since I broke up with him. How can it seem like only yesterday, but also a lifetime ago?

My eyes still follow him every day. The anger is long since gone, but the hurt remains, and somehow, I think it always will. But there are new emotions—concern and confusion—and they're starting to nag at me with their sensibility and logic.

If everything Edward said and did was a lie, then why does he still seem devastated by our breakup? I believe he knows now that I'd never tell anyone, and if he was upset over not getting what he wanted or missing the sex, wouldn't he be over that by now?

Admittedly, I'm watching from the sidelines, but it seems like he's just … existing. He doesn't hang out with Jasper anymore, or anyone, really. He's … alone, and I haven't seen him smile—I mean really smile—since the day we broke up. And the rumors I heard last week were downright disturbing. I know he had it out with Bitch Face in the middle of the dance because everyone saw it, but I also heard he got really fucked up with Ken Doll and Tyler that night, and somehow Ken Doll ended up with a black eye. Edward didn't have any visible injuries, but I'm sure if he did get wasted he had a seizure on Saturday, and—

And you're still living your life as if it matters to you what happens to him.

I know I'm still in love with him, but the question that's been keeping me up at night is this: is he actually in love with me?

Reason needles at me—he would have gotten over not getting his way by now, and if he wanted sex, Bitch Face would have mounted him in front of the entire student body if he asked her to, or he could have charmed just about anyone. Instead, he walks around looking like a lost puppy, and he's isolated himself from almost everyone.

If he truly only cares about himself and his gain, he's doing a piss poor job of taking care of himself right now.

The Gothlet is next into homeroom, and—what the fuck? Her gaze falls on Edward, but it's not the your-balls-will-soon-be-mine death glare she usually gives him when she deigns to acknowledge he exists at all. Her eyebrows are furrowed as if she's concerned, and when he looks up at her, her lips curve into the hint of a smile. I shake my head to clear the hallucination, but her smile lingers as she sits down beside Angela.

I lean forward and fix her with my best what-the-fuck-was-that look, but her smile just widens as her eyes twinkle at me. Holy shit, has she been hitting the hay with the stoners again? Jasper may like her high as a kite once in a while, but the rest of us aren't into that shit, and certainly not during school. I don't get it, but I brush it off as some sort of cosmic oddity.

Until it happens again.

On Tuesday morning, I'm at my locker grabbing my books for biology, and as I turn to head down the hall, The Gothlet is passing by Edward. He's facing his locker, but as she touches his arm, he looks over his shoulder at her. I can't see how she's looking at him, but his expression brightens a little, and I think I see the hint of a spark of life in his eyes.

I must be losing my mind, or she's losing hers.

If I'm seeing things, it's my own problem, and I probably need to get my head examined, but if she's actually talking to Edward after what he did to me—I know she's a Goth, but the Girl Code still applies, doesn't it? Besties before testes? Chicks before dicks? That's still a thing even if black is the color of your soul, right? I don't know what's going on, if anything at all, but I can't help but feel a little hurt.

I'm on my way to lunch on Wednesday when the shit finally hits the fan. Angela and I are walking down the hall, and I glance toward the little hallway by the art room as I always do because that's the place Edward and I had our first civil conversation, and who do I see there but The Gothlet, deep in conversation with he-whose-balls-were-promised-to-me, AKA Edward.

Now I'm fucking pissed. Because unless she's negotiating for his nuts, which I seriously doubt, she's just violated every Girl Code there ever was and napalmed our friendship.

I stomp down the hall with Angela clueless at my side, but I stop at the water fountain and pretend to drink until they both emerge from the alcove. Edward heads to his locker, but The Gothlet is coming our way.

"I'll meet you in the caf, Ang. I need to talk to Alice for a minute."

Ang looks confused, but she nods slowly. "Okay, I'll see you at our table."

I don't even notice as she walks off—my eyes are fixed on Baroness Von Backstabber as she skips down the hall.

She's still a good ten feet away when I can longer contain my temper.

"What the fuck, Alice? What's going on with you and Edward?"

She looks slightly surprised, but then she smiles—smiles!—at me. "So you noticed."

"Of course, I noticed! He hasn't talked to anyone for weeks, and now all of a sudden, he's smiling at you and you're holed up talking in our hallway? Now what the hell is going on?"

The Gothlet sighs heavily. "We need to talk."

A million things are flitting through my mind as I follow her through the lunch line, each one scarier than the last, until finally, we're seated at a table away from everyone else.

The Gothlet turns deadly serious as she faces me, her hands resting palms down on either side of her tray.

"Edward told me his secret."

"What?"

"Well, not the actual secret, but he told me you saw something you weren't supposed to."

My mind is reeling. "How in the hell did you convince him to tell you that?"

"I didn't! I finally got him alone to cut his balls off for you, and he spilled his guts instead. Sat down and told me everything … well, except for the actual thing."

"What did he say?"

"He told me that he has to lie to cover up whatever it is, so when you saw it, he pretended to like you to keep you quiet."

Pain radiates around the edges of the hole in my chest as if it's trying to connect with the heart that isn't there anymore, and I lean back in my chair and press a hand there.

"But, Bella, there's more," The Gothlet says, reaching out to cover my other hand, and I listen to the rest of her words with my eyes closed.

"Once he got to know you, he realized that he really liked you. He fell in love with you, and he was so afraid of losing you that he made a mistake—he decided not to tell you how it started out. It was the wrong thing to do, and he knows that, but if it hadn't been for that note-saving bitch Rosalie and Lauren's stalker obsession with him, you'd still be together right now."

I sigh and shake my head. "I know all this, Alice. He told me the last time we talked. But how do I know him saying he loves me isn't a lie? I know he would do anything to protect himself."

"Bella, it's been six weeks since you broke up. If you haven't spilled his secret in all that time, do you really think he'd be trying to get back with you to protect something you're already protecting for him?"

Her words make sense, and the lovesick part of my brain is nodding furiously. But the voice of hurt is louder.

"After we broke up, he went right back to the populars, and he let Lauren help him with everything. How could he do that after she broke us up and humiliated me? He obviously thought what she did was just fucking fine, and he had to know that getting close to her would hurt me."

"No, he didn't!" The Gothlet exclaims. "Rosalie covered for Lauren—only you knew who gave you the note. Edward didn't find out until the dance two weeks ago when Lauren fucked up and admitted it to him."

So that's what happened at the dance! I wasn't there, but The Gothlet and Ang told me Edward was livid, and Bitch Face ran out crying. I haven't seen them speak a word to each other since.

"That doesn't mean he loves me," I say stubbornly.

"He's been miserable since you broke up—anyone can see that."

"Maybe his dick's just lonely."

The Gothlet huffs impatiently. "He's got one working hand, and if that's not enough, he's gorgeous and popular enough to have almost any girl in the whole fucking town. If he wanted some, I'm sure the cheerleading squad would strip down and build him a pussy pyramid.

"I believe he loves you," The Gothlet says, and when I meet her eyes, I see nothing but certainty. "Christ, when I threatened to cut his balls off, he asked if I could hit a major artery for him so he'd bleed to death. Does that tell you anything about his state of mind?"

Holy fuck! Tears choke my throat and gather at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back. Is he really that miserable without me?

"He had absolutely no reason to tell me all this. All I wanted were his balls, and all this tumbled out instead. I think … I think he's just really tired of lying."

"Well then, he should stop," I retort with no small amount of heat.

"Can he? With whatever this secret is that he's keeping?"

I think about his anxiety and how hard it was for him to adjust to me, a single person, knowing about his condition, and the answer is obvious.

"No, he can't."

"Well then, is it fair to ask that of him?"

"That's not what I want," I admit, and although I wish things were different, I know I'd help him keep his secret forever, if that's what he needed. "I just wish he hadn't lied to me. He's so good at it, Alice—how can I trust him again? Keeping his secret is more important to him than me, and that means there's always the possibility this could happen again, and … and he's selfish.

"He assumed I would tell everyone what I saw to make me popular by putting him down because that's how he operates. That's why he used to bully people, did he tell you that? He put them down so the focus was never on him. Everything he does, he does for himself and no one else."

"No, he didn't tell me that," The Gothlet says, frowning. "But he hasn't bullied anyone since he started dating you, has he?"

"No."

"And he didn't go back to that when you broke up, did he?"

"Well … no."

"I think you've changed him, Bella. I've known him for years—he stopped being a bully when he started dating you, and since you broke up, he's been a ghost.

"And what about you? I know you still love him. You watch him every second of the day—it's like your world revolves around where he is, and if he's not in the room, then you have no center.

"He made a mistake, Bella. A really bad one, but I think he'd do just about anything to make it up to you. You both love each other—should you really have to spend the rest of your lives miserable because of one mistake? Just … talk to him. I think you'll see what I'm talking about if you just open your heart and listen."

Fuck. It's as if The Gothlet and every nagging doubt in my head brainstormed and came up with the best way to confuse the hell out of me.

"I don't know, Alice. I need to think about it."

"I get it," The Gothlet says, squeezing my forearm. "And I hope you don't think that because I talked to him, now I'm on his side. I've just never seen two people so miserable, and I thought maybe I could help fix it."

I want to be angry at her, but my heart's not in it. I'm just so tired of feeling angry and hurt, and all she really did was listen to him.

"I'm not mad at you."

"Thank God!" The Gothlet exclaims. "You know, Assward can be really endearing when he's pouring his heart out to you. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him; he was that pathetic."

A vision of Edward the day after his first near-miss of a seizure at school comes to me unbidden, his head resting on my shoulder as he tells me he needs a way to escape.

"Yes, he can."

"But if he did somehow manage to bullshit me, this time it'll be his junk in a jar, and I'm keeping it for myself," The Gothlet says, winking at me as she gets up and heads over to sit with Jasper.

My mouth hangs open, but only for a few seconds. I think I'm actually getting used to The Gothlet's way of solving every high school problem with violence.

I rest my head in my hands, my brain going a thousand miles an hour trying to process everything The Gothlet said while the team Edward side of my brain flashes only one message: I told you so.

The Gothlet made all the points team Edward has been dogging me with for weeks, but she has one thing my Edward-loving neurons didn't have—she's talked to Edward and verified that he's still saying and feeling the same things he did six weeks ago.

Maybe he is telling the truth.

Something warm and bright surges through the hole in my chest, and for a moment, I feel as if it isn't there. But only for a moment.

So what if he is telling the truth and he does love me—can I ever trust him again? And The Gothlet says he's changed, but has he really? Did he stop bullying because he doesn't want to hurt anyone that way again, or because it doesn't benefit him as much as he thought it did?

The questions swirl around in my head for the rest of the week, and although I feel Edward's eyes on me more than once, I can't seem to bring myself to meet them. I feel like I'm standing on some sort of precipice—caught between the need to play it safe and the urge to just jump—and so I hesitate, with uncertainty as my companion.

¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)¸.·ˆ¯)

I don't know what I'm doing here. The Gothlet damn near made me swear a blood oath that I'd show at the dance, but as I walk in the caf doors, I'm already regretting it. I haven't been to a dance since the Winter Formal, the night that was arguably the best night of my life. Even if Edward and I never get back together, it'll still be the best night of my life because everything was just so perfect. I keep those memories in a separate place from the hurt I still feel, distancing myself as if I'm watching a movie—the scenes edged with soft golden light.

This dance is nothing like that, and I seriously don't know what the fuck I'm doing here. I dance with The Gothlet and Ang, but The Gothlet has a new move added to her groove this evening—she keeps looking over her shoulder as if she's expecting something … or someone. I'm not an idiot. Her insistence that I come tonight and her pleas that I talk to Edward add up to a Gothlet-staged Dr. Phil session, with the pixie swooping in to wave her wand or shoot her arrow or whatever the fuck to make everything magically okay. Alas, Cupid of the dark side, it doesn't work that way, even if it is Valentine's Day.

I've been a resident of the land of confusion ever since Alice confessed to me on Wednesday—my heart and head pulling in different directions and switching places with a frequency you can clock with an egg timer. I just don't know. I want so much to throw caution to the wind and believe in him, but I'm scared. I can't do halfway with Edward. If I reach out for my heart that's still in his keeping, there'll be no defenses, no caution—I've missed him so much, I know I'm going to grab on with everything I have. So I have to be sure.

And I'm not.

I'm scared that the same selfish person I met six months ago is still lingering under there—that he's the real Edward, not the sweet, sensitive boy who was forced into a personality of self-protection by his own fears and a debilitating illness. The boy I fell in love with as he slowly and painfully let me into his lonely world. I want that boy back. I want to heal his wounds and soothe his soul and make him smile again.

I'm fucked.

A slow song comes on, and Ben and Jasper materialize out of nowhere, just like good boyfriends should. I feel a tug in my chest for what was, but I try my best to ignore it.

Alice looks at me with pity in her eyes and another glance over her shoulder. I don't think he's coming.

But no matter how much I'd prefer it, I'm not destined to be alone with my loss right now.

"There she is! Go on!"

A pair of well-worn black Chucks appear toe-to-toe with me, and I look up into the face of Austin.

If I didn't know better, I'd say he looks nervous.

"Hey, Bella, I …"

He runs a hand through his hair just the way Edward does—when Edward does it, I want to climb him like a tree, but with Austin, it sends a nervous shiver down my spine and makes me want to plant both hands on his chest and push, hard.

"Um … would you like to dance?"

Eddie boy may have gotten your cherry, but when it's my turn, I want the whole pie.

I've got something long and loose and full of juice right here for you.

Just making sure I wouldn't be stepping on your toes if I take my turn.

I just stare at him as his words roll around in my head, my eyebrows rising ever higher.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, I … I'd really like to dance with you."

He honestly looks confused. Even if he doesn't know I overheard his conversation with Edward, has he forgotten his homeroom soliloquy that clinched his starring role in "Could You Be More of a Chauvinistic Pig"? Because I sure haven't.

"Austin, I wouldn't dance with you if you were the last guy on earth and dancing was the only way to avoid getting the Black Plague. I would rather die covered in pus-filled boils than do anything with you."

I say it loud, and the fact that the current song ends just as I start speaking increases the range of my words.

He's stunned, but as laughter starts to echo around us, his eyes narrow and his cheeks flush with red splotches.

"Shit, Austin, you just got told!" Ken Doll exclaims, howling with laughter.

The Gothlet walks up and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Wow, Bella, tell us how you really feel!" And her cackle sets off another round of mirth at Austin's expense. Meanwhile, Mr. Long and Loose and Full of Juice is turning puce—damn, that rhymes and somehow makes this even funnier!—his eyes blazing with humiliation and hatred.

"You bitch!" he roars, taking a step toward me before Jasper grabs him by the shoulder. "You're gonna regret that," he warns, pointing a finger in my face as he slowly backs away.

The look in his eyes frightens me, but it's replaced by a fierce surge of pride in myself for saying what was on my mind for once. A satisfied smile tugs at my cheeks as I look at the faces around me … and then my eyes fall on Edward.

He's here.

A/N: The Gothlet has given it her best shot—now it's up to Bella. And what's up with Austin? Okay, readers, cross your fingers and send me all your good wishes and mojo because I'm not done writing the next chapter yet. It's a big one and I want to make sure it's as good as it can be, so I'm taking my time. I hope to post in two weeks!