Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns these characters. I don't.
At graduation, few words are exchanged but they are more along the lines of "Excuse you" and "Sorry"; either of which I'm not sure who said what but that we are not looking at each other as we say it.
He has gone from the tidal wave in my life to the dull sea water foam that washes out my foot prints in the sand; my foot prints being anything I leave behind in high school. Washed up and forgotten.
We don't talk over summer break, but then again, I don't talk much with anyone over summer break, except for when Emmett asks about Fox. My mother wasn't happy about Fox but I wasn't happy about my father not coming to my graduation, so with a solemn face expression, I had walked right into my house with Fox hung over my arm like a jacket and headed straight for my room. She's been here ever since.
I find out that Emmett finds out about Royce and Rosalie and he's not shy on the phone when explicits ring on the other end and with wide eyes, I look around the living room in curiosity if my mother heard from another room.
Alice remains a mystery to me and I only get word from Emmett that she is studying abroad for university and that sooner or later she will become hipster chic with her tattooed fingers and saturated Polaroids. Her classes start earlier than everyone else's and she sends me photos in the mail of the great city of London.
I sit back in my desk in the lecture hall as my British Literature professor goes on about William Wordsworth.
I go to community college in the mornings and in the evenings I sit at the dinner table, with my mother, never speaking.
In the nightlife, I accompany only myself to the concrete jungles where the graffiti still grows on the walls and I am still a mystery to everyone.
Coming to the realization that when I thought about Edward, he was all I thought about; the only thing that occupied my mind, that processed my daily thoughts. And when the obsession died, I found myself not thinking about anything at all.
And I became bored. Bored with everything.
Emmett still speaks with Edward every once and a while but kind of ignores the topic now that he sort of... knows. Knows about it all.
Or at least what the rumors say.
Down in the laundry room that one day, word got out about Edward and me because of all the yelling. Some sophomore whispering into the ears of her friends, peers, anyone who would listen; juicing up the juicy details about what they heard.
Her and Edward were fighting.
Her and Edward were fighting and she was crying.
She was crying and he was yelling and then they kissed and I don't know about you, but it's a wonder no one knew they were dating.
Her and Edward were fighting but they were not dating.
Her and Edward had a secret romance. Apparently no one knew.
Who is her again?
I think her name is Bella Swan.
Bella and Edward were fighting. Then they had sex on one of the washers. No wonder washer #11 isn't working.
Emmett never asked me for anything specific, just if what he heard was close to the real thing. Obviously, it wasn't.
I think by that time, I was so tired of everything that I gave into the rumors because they sounded so much better than the real thing. But Emmett knew I was lying so I had nothing else to say.
I sit my in British Literature class now and concentrate on my work schedule because it's the only thing I look forward to these days. Over the summer, I had gotten a job by the beach to supply my time with something other than grooming cat hair out of my clothes. So now besides giving spray paint and henna tattoos on the boardwalk, I study full time at my community college.
My major: undecided.
In September, it's still always pretty warm. And though most of the shops on the boardwalk are vacant because the summer crowds die down, I still get paid to spray paint tattoos all over myself in order to sell at least one tattoo a day.
My mother says she doesn't like the look of it, me coming home every evening with smudged black ink all over my body. When my father is actually home, he says nothing. And that's mostly how my days go.
Until late September, on the board walk, the winds pick up and my example design posters are fluttering away from their posts and I adjust them neatly by adding new staples. And a tap on my shoulder is light but deliberate and in my mind I prepare for a smile when really I get green eyes.
"Hi, Bella."
And these green eyes leave stains on my skin deeper than any real tattoo could ever.
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