An: Just like in Alice's back story written by SM, she has premonitions and feelings of the future before she becomes a vampire. Those are still in this AH fanfiction!
3 Years Earlier
The tiny dark-haired girl walked to the front of the court room. Through her watery gaze, she stated her legal name and swore to be truthful. And if she were being honest, she didn't much care for her given name, Mary Alice Brandon. I didn't fit who she was anymore. Then again, she had never truly liked the name Mary either. There had always been something about the past that never settled well with Alice, and her brain could never remember why. She didn't like to focus on where she had come, but rather where she was going. The pixie-like girl had always been drawn to the future in a way that many had described her as intuitive. Others lucky. Her biological father, a burden. Her stepmother, a freak. Carlisle, a visionary. Esme, a dreamer.
Alice preferred the words of her foster parents to those of the man that made up half of her DNA. That's why she knew she must speak on behalf of them that day. Even though sharing and remembering were tasks that she often found difficult, she realized that life without Carlisle and Esme would be much harder. Although Alice couldn't directly pinpoint the outcome, a feeling in her gut told her everything would work out. For she had chosen this family just as they had chosen her.
"Mary…" Caius began interrupting her thoughts.
"Alice," she corrected almost too quickly, "I go by Alice."
"Didn't you just tell the entire courtroom that your birth name is Mary?" He furrowed his brow.
"Yes, that's legal name," her eyes flitted around the room. Looking into people's eyes had always been difficult for her, "The name I choose to go by is Alice. I just promised to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Didn't I?" See that was thing about Alice, sometimes she just honestly couldn't remember. If the thought felt unimportant or the event had caused her pain, she could forget it quickly. But, they never went away, they just buried themselves for a while.
"Yes, you did," the lawyer sighed.
"Well, then truthfully, I don't like being called Mary," the girl shrugged softly.
"Very well," the blond man pinched the bridge of his nose, "Alice, how old are you? And when did Dr. and Mrs. Cullen find you?"
"I'm fifteen," she grinned, "I know I don't look like it, but I swear I am. Carlisle says it's because I did have proper nutrition growing up, but we're working on it…" she trailed off as the icy blue gaze glared at her, "But…they didn't find me. I found them."
A stiff tendril of hair popped out of Caius's typically motionless style, as he reared his head back, "How on God's green earth does a child find their own guardians."
"Oh, Mr. Caius," she giggled, "I decided on this family long before any of them had met me!"
"Mar…Alice," The lawyer corrected, "Do you care to explain?"
oOoOo
Little Mary Alice sat pleasantly alone at a small desk inside of St. Monica's Orphanage. Secured in her tiny digits was a broken crayon. She was really eleven years old, but her petite frame resembled that of child three years her junior. Alice had always been small and from what she could see, would probably continue being small for the rest of her life. Both she and her sister, Cynthia, had been born prematurely. And while her little sister's birth had been marred by the death of their mother, Alice's was ruined by her own arrival. Or at least that's what she came to believe from the conversations her father and his new wife had, while they thought she was sleeping.
Difficult, that was the word her father often attached to her from a very young age. She could understand why. Due to her undeveloped lungs, the young girl became sick very easily. Also, she often hard time paying attention to the world around her because she was always catching glimpses about what was to come. It was true, life had not been easy, but it would get better. In truth, Alice recognized from an early age that due to her gift, she wasn't even the slightest bit like other children. Perhaps that's why her father and stepmother preferred Cynthia. She was much more normal compared to her sister. And just maybe that's why her family left her here with the nuns.
"Mary Alice," Sister Ann, lightly jostled the child's shoulder, "What ever are you drawing?"
"My family," the girl responded, eyes still fixated on the paper in front of her, "See. There's my new mom and dad and me!" her slender finger pointed to the blond man she had sketched and then to the curly haired woman beside him, "Aren't they pretty?"
"Yes, beautiful," The old nun smiled. Although strange, the child did have an artistic gift, "And who are the others?" she humored her, "Are they your brothers and sister?"
Alice pursed her lips and shrugged, "Maybe. They live with us too. But they haven't decided if they want to be my siblings. So, I haven't seen it."
"Mary Alice, what have we said about those vision?" the habited woman arched her brow.
"That they're just my imagination," a defeated sigh came from her pale lips, "And that I shouldn't let them get the best of me."
"Very good, child," sister cooed, "Now, tidy up. It's time for bed."
Alice gathered her crayons and put them away in the communal bin. She neatly folded the picture and tucked it into her jumper pocket. Although the sisters were nice and the boarding house was warm, the dark-haired girl longed for more. She desperately wanted a family, a real one that would love her. Alice had tried earnestly to be a part of the family she was born into, but it just never seemed to fit. Day in and day out, she watched as other children left with their forever families, who would care for them. But, Alice's never came.
As she laid in bed that evening, an overwhelming sense of adventure overcame her. It was in that moment that Alice knew the only way she to find her family was to go out and search for herself. She quickly gathered her thin coat and slipped on her quietest shoes. This was one of the few times being tiny was considered an advantage, as she easily slipped out the back door and into the snow that was falling in piles up to her ankles. Alice shivered a bit, but pushed through the blizzard that raged around her. Something inside of her knew that if she just pressed forward, she'd find them tonight.
Alice was well aware of the little town, just south of the orphanage, but that feeling in her heart was pulling her north. Soon enough a numbness began to overcome her entire body as snow blanketed the entire area around her. But, nevertheless, she persisted, reminding herself to simply put one foot in front of the other. The child's eye lids began to droop, as her muscles felt tight and weak. Alice fell.
Then like most of her other memories, a hazy consciousness took over her mind. She could hear someone screaming for help. She saw the faded glow of red and blue lights though her foggy vision. And she felt the plastic of the mask that was too big for her slender face. Everything hurt. Nothing made sense. Her visions had never led her astray, not once. Perhaps Sister Ann was right, and all of this was just her imagination running wild.
"She's a ward of the state," a confused voice mumbled, "What's protocol when it comes to unclaimed children?"
"Ask Cullen" a gruff man responded, "He's got at least four foster kids. He'd know."
Alice faded again, but this time she wasn't sure for how long. But something inside of her knew that she needed to fight it. A moment later the young girl opened her eyes. They flickered a few times, adjusting to the brightness around her. At the foot of the hospital bed were two doctors and a nurse. The man in the middle immediately noticed the shift in her movement. He was tall and blond, with kind worried eyes, which Alice decided were much too old for his young face.
"Hello Dear," he approached her slowly, as not to frighten her, "I'm Dr. Cullen and this is Dr. Marsh. We're here to take care of you. Don't worry," he tentatively reached out his hand, "we're going to make sure you're well taken care of."
The dark-haired girl's eyes sparkled, as she grasped his soft warm hand, "You're real. I found you...It's you!" she grinned weakly, before safely falling to sleep.
"Esme," Alice heard the doctor's muffled voice through the door, as he and a stranger entered the room, "I know we've already taken on four, but you didn't see her face as I spoke to her…and the way her little hand held onto mine. You would have thought the child had known me forever. I know it sounds insane, but do you think we could bring her back with us?"
"How could we not," a quiet, tender voice brought comfort to the room, "Carlisle, she already feels like she can trust you. And the child…she has no one."
"Do you think we could handle…five?" the blond man swallowed hard, as Alice could hear the reservation in his voice.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," the lady spoke, and the room once again seemed to brighten, "Have you called our agent?"
"About fifteen minutes before you arrived," the doctor replied sheepishly, "Her mother passed years ago, and her father terminated his legal rights when he remarried. She's been at St. Monica's for over two years now…"
"Carlisle does that mean she could stay...for...forever?!" Alice could feel the warmth around her, as the woman spoke. This is how mothers were supposed to sound, "I hope they bring in the paperwork soon. She'll recover much quicker in home where she knows she's loved and welcomed."
"Of course, love," the girl could hear the admiration the man's voice held for his wife.
Although her almost ebony eyes were fighting every urged to open, Alice forced herself to look beside her. Next to her bed sat the warm, candy colored haired, lady from the picture she had drawn the previous evening. A small smile spread across her face, once again her visions has not failed her. Alice had found the people she would one day call her parents.
"Hello Mary," her future mother spoke in a soft soothing tone, "I'm Mrs. Cullen, Dr. Cullen's wife. You can call me Esme, if you'd like."
"Alice," the girl's hoarse voice croaked.
"What dear?" Esme leaned in closer.
"I don't particularly like Mary," her words, though still weak, held more clarity this time, "I go by my middle name, Alice."
"Well, Alice it is then," the woman grinned, "You save your voice. Can you nod your head? I need to ask you a few questions," the little girl mimed zipping her lips, before letting Esme continue, "Would you like to come home with Dr. Cullen…"
Alice began nodding her head so rapidly, it almost made her dizzy.
Her new mother giggled, "Let me give you all the facts before you decide so quickly! You see, Dr. Cullen and I already have four children, that we adore. Three boys and one girl. They're all around your age. We want to make sure you'll be alright, with so many other children."
Alice pointed to the pocket in her little jacket, which hung on the back of Esme's chair. The warm looking woman turned, inspecting every inch of the coat before finding a dampened piece of paper in the pocket. She unfolded the page to reveal an almost uncanny recreation of the family she and Carlisle had formed, Alice included. Esme's hand slowly rose to meet her mouth in astonishment, as the child nervously studied her expression.
"Well, it certainly looks like you are more than ready to join us," that same welcoming grin appeared on her lips, "Rose," she pointed at the blonde in the picture, "She likes to draw too. I think she'll be very glad to have a friend at home."
Yes, it was in that moment that Mary Alice Brandon knew she had found her way home. Esme visited her everyday while the other children were in school, showing her pictures of the house and the others who lived within its walls. She told her all about Emmett and his rambunctious, playful spirit. And how Rosalie was thrilled to no longer be the only girl in a home full of boys. Edward was Alice's age, and they would be in the same class when she was able to start school. Finally, she showed her a picture of Jasper and spoke of his quiet, thoughtful demeanor. Almost instantly, she felt a closeness to him, as if she had known him her entire life. Yes, Jasper would be her best friend. They needed each other, but she didn't know why. Not yet.
Alice could not wait to join the Cullen Family. On the day she was discharged, Esme and Carlisle were waiting to welcome her with balloons and flowers. The paperwork had been filed that morning and she was officially their new foster daughter. However, she hoped she could drop 'foster' sometime in the near future. They dove her to their little home in Seattle, where she and Rosalie would share a bedroom. On the left side of the room was a small bed that matched the adjacent wall. Atop its plush mattress was the sunniest yellow spread, with a mountain of multicolored pillows placed perfectly against the frame. Alice had only mentioned once that she loved colors. They had listened and done more her than she could remember anyone doing.
The tiny girl stepped into her and Rose's attached bathroom and caught sight of herself for the first time in a long time. Her skin was pale and sort of grey. Her long black hair was completely tangled in the back. She felt her face fall, to nervous to look back up at her own reflection. Alice didn't want to meet the rest of her beautiful new family looking like a zombie. Luckily, her future mother had been beside her and noted the change in the child's typically sunny demeanor. Esme smiled and picked up the brand-new brush, which rested on the side of the sink.
Alice jumped as her foster mother began to run the brush through knots in her hair. An instinctual action that came from living with her stepmother. Esme froze, quickly studying the girl's terrified expression. Oh no, tears began to well in Alice's dark eyes, as she tried to push the memory deep inside of her. She had messed it up already. Mother's were supposed to brush their daughter's hair. Esme was trying to be helpful and she had ruined it. All of it. Why couldn't she just forget? However, a tender touch on the child's shoulders gave her enough comfort to look forward.
"Alice," Esme's voice was worried, but as kind as ever, "I know we haven't known each other long, but know you can tell me anything and I won't think any differently of you. Now, you don't have to tell me, but did someone use your hair to hurt you?"
Her head dropped, unable to look kindness in the eye, and nodded a small, embarrassed yes. Then those same hands that had brushed her shoulders, now embraced her in a hug. She buried her head in her foster mother's neck and clung to her just as tightly. A few tears leaked from her eyes and she swore she heard a muffled sob escape Esme's mouth.
"Listen to me sweetie," the mother tilted the girl's chin up to meet her gaze, "No one in this house will do anything to hurt you," for once her tone was serious, gravely serious, "Carlisle and I will never, ever, let anything like that happen again."
Alice believed her without a doubt. It was something about the fire that burned in her eye as she spoke, which allowed the girl to feel entirely sure this family was to be trusted.
"Now," Esme sniffled, her usual tone returning, "Would you like me to continue helping you brush your hair? Or would you like to do it?"
"I just don't understand why I have to have it so long," the girl sighed, once again looking at her reflection.
"It doesn't have to be," her foster mother furrowed her brows, "You can have your whatever way makes you happy. It's your hair, no one elses!"
"But my stepmother told me…" Alice looked down at her feet.
"I don't care what that woman told you," the fire had returned in Esme's eyes, "Alice, this is your hair. Not hers. If you want to shave off the sides and have a rainbow mohawk, you can. And if anyone tries to question or tease you for your choice, I'll cut my hair the exact same way. You can be whoever you are in this this home. Carlisle and I only ask that you be respectful and kind. Now, my darling, what do you want to do with your hair?"
An awestruck Alice could feel the tears welling in her eyes agin, this time for a different reason. Never before had anyone allowed her the freedom to truly be who she was or accepted her without question. Yet, here stood Esme letting her know that she didn't have to hide or even ask permission. She and Carlisle gave her a home where she would never be judged. Not by her hair. Or her past. Or her visions of the future. For the first time she was allowed and encouraged to be totally and completely…Alice. She could create Alice. The girl turned to the mirror and studied her reflection once more, thinking of exactly what sort of hair suited her best.
"Esme," she stated very seriously, "I hate my long hair. I want to put it behind me. I want to cut it off."
For the next twenty minutes, the young girl flipped through pages on the internet to find the perfect style. Across from her in the small master bathroom stood Esme, pulling out all the necessary tools to style the child's hair. Carlisle walk in and smiled as Alice excitedly told him about her big hair cut. He was thrilled that she was so eager for this change and told her he was proud she was making it. Her first father wouldn't have thought twice about her hair. He would have told her to "listen your stepmother" or to "learn to behave." Carlisle told her she was brave and even asked her permission if he could stay to watch her grand transformation. Of course, the girl happily obliged.
Alice enjoyed showing both Carlisle and Esme her ideas and not one negative word came out of their mouths. And when she finally selected the perfect flippy bob, they smiled and agreed with her. The style looked fun, fashion forward, and most of all freeing. Esme called it elegant. Carlisle chose sophisticated. Everyone thought that it was very…Alice. The foster mother pulled her dark tendrils of hair into two low ponytails and handed the girl the pair of scissors. Alice looked at the shears with wide eyes and suddenly felt very afraid. She quickly scooted them across the counter in Esme's direction. Change was good, but that didn't mean it wasn't scary.
"You do it," Alice spoke quietly, "I'm too chicken."
"You are not chicken," Carlisle scoffed, "Perhaps you need someone to be brave with you," he offered her his hand, which she almost instantly accepted, "Esme will cut the first one, then if you want, you can do the second."
"Yes," Esme smiled at her in the mirror, "I think it'll help you feel a lot better."
The child nodded in agreement. She trusted Esme and Carlisle entirely and couldn't remember a time in her life where she felt so in control of her own destiny. Perhaps, she felt this way when her own mother was alive, but she had been so young when she passed. And her face was merely a blur in the back of the child's mind. It was easy for her to block out the bad, at least for a little while. Alice wanted to remember only the good and this hair cut was going to be great. She closed her eyes, as Esme raised the scissor to cut the first matted strand. She squeezed Carlisle's hand tightly, as she could hear the slicing just below her ears. Then there was a quiet thud.
Her eyes snapped open and immediately fell to the floor. There it was. The first ponytail. Alice turned her attention to the mirror to see that half of the hair she so desperately despised had vanished. It was no longer apart of her. She loved it, even without styling. Esme smiled behind her. Her hand out stretched waiting for the girl to take the blades. Carlisle released her hand and gave her an encouraging two thumbs up. This time, Alice readily accepted the scissors, bringing them just above the hair tie. Her mind said yes, but her body said no. Her fingers refused to budge.
"It's alright, sweetie," Esme placed a hand on her back, "It's just one cut."
"You can do it," Carlisle's smile lit up his entire face, "We believe in you."
Alice forced her hand to close around the handle of the scissors. Surprisingly, they smoothly glided though her thick mop of hair. She cut and cut until the last strand came loose and pooled on the floor next to it's twin. Her foster mother wrapped her loving arms around her, and the girl could feel her pride. And this time Alice knew for fact that they both had tears in their eyes.
"Goodbye Mary," Esme whisper.
"Hello Alice," Carlisle grinned, as he placed a hand on both their shoulders.
It was the first day of her new life, and Alice couldn't have been more thrilled. Carlisle went to pick up the other children from school, while Esme styled her new locks. She had just finished when the other children arrived home. There was some reservation in the room, for everyone. But, finally the blonde girl stepped forward first.
"Hi, I'm Rosalie. That's Emmett. That's Edward. And over there is my twin brother Jasper," her mouth turned up in a smirk, "But, they don't matter much because you're going to be my friend. And they already have each other."
"I'm Alice," the little pixie grinned back with confidence, "I really like your outfit, it's really pretty. I like clothes and fashion. And you've got awesome style."
"So do you," Rose's mouth gapped, "I mean look at your hair, it's so chic!"
Alice blushed. Yes, this is exactly where she was supposed to belong. From that first encounter, the girl new that she and Rose were going to be the best of friends or even better, sisters. However, they were night and day, in both looks and attitude. The little dark-haired girl knew she was supposed to be with Carlisle and Esme. Rosalie on the other hand was never so sure. So while she was always kind to Alice, she wasn't always respectful to their shared guardians. Rose liked to stir the pot, often getting her and at least one other kid in trouble.
Most of the time it was Emmett. Those two were joined at the hip. Yet, he seemed far more grateful to be in the Cullen's home than his blonde counterpart. And Alice thought he was far more fun when he wasn't causing trouble with Rosalie. However, that didn't mean he was absolved of creating mischief of his own. Together they liked pulling pranks on the others, sometimes landing them both in hot water. But, punishments were fair, usually only consisted of cleaning up the mess they created and on rare occasions a weekend grounding. Alice knew, her brother Emmett would always be there to laugh with her.
Edward was the best behaved of the four. He had been with Carlisle and Esme the longest and seemed to love and appreciate them the way she did. Edward was also good at reading people, so he picked up on Alice's special talent right away. He never directly questioned her about it, but would always asked for more detail when she spoke about the things she saw. And he didn't think she was strange, like some of the kids in their class at school. Edward accepted her as his sister, just as quickly as she made him her brother.
Alice loved everyone in the home instantly, it was like they were always supposed to be a family. Whether the others saw it that way or not. However, the one person that intrigued her most, barely paid any attention to her at all. Jasper was a very solitary person, who enjoyed keeping to himself. He was stanch and serious, but never scary. The little pixie valued any time she was able to speak with him one on one. Even if it was short, it was always meaningful. Jasper always had something nice to say, but Alice often felt that they would never be siblings. But, that never made her sad.
When she had been with the Cullen's almost a year, the girl had nearly forgotten all about her past traumas. Alice was adjusting well to her new life and anything negative was cleverly hidden in the deepest crevices of her mind, never to come out again. Not until she saw them. They were shopping at the mall. Her father, stepmother, and Cynthia, all looking for Christmas presents.
"Daddy!" she shouted instinctively as she sprinted towards them, almost as if a switch flipped in her brain, "Daddy, it's Alice!"
Jasper, who had been shopping with her, followed behind in a state of confusion. Cynthia's eyes lit up at the sight of the older sister she thought she had lost. Her first father was too nervous to even look her direction, while her former step mother glared at the young girl. However, Alice couldn't see past the thoughts she had forced herself to create about them. Her former parents quickly scooted Cynthia away, in an attempt to ignore her. But the little pixie was nothing but persistent.
Alice suddenly felt someone tugging on her arm. It was Jasper. He was trying to keep her away from her family. But why? He didn't say anything, but his eyes, full of concern, begged her to follow him. Why did he want that? He certainly didn't know her family like she did. Right? Nevertheless, with the newfound confidence, Carlisle and Esme had instilled in her, Alice pressed forward, calling to them again. This time so loudly that she caught the attention of the shoppers passing by.
"You insolent little brat," her stepmother reached out and yanked her upward, by her arm. Alice's eyes filled with tears, "How dare you speak to us. We are not your parents. Children like you should be…"
"Let. Her. Go." A usually silent voice spoke loudly and clearly, gaining her former family's attention.
"Excuse me?" the wicked woman reared her head back, dropping Alice in the process.
"I said, let her go," Jasper's fists were clenched at his side, "If she ain't your kid, you don't grab her like that."
"Boy, how dare you speak to my wife that way," Her father reached for the collar of Jasper's shirt, as the young man readied himself for a fight.
"What is going?" a typically calm Carlisle rushed in, removing the man's hand from his foster son's shirt.
Esme was next on the scene, the rest of the children following her like ducklings. It was only then that Alice came back to reality and broke down in uncontrollable sobs.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered, as the trembling child, pressed her head into her foster mother's stomach.
"Ok, someone needs to explain what's going on?" Esme's eyes darted between the parties, as she knelt to comfort the girl.
"This boy? Is he yours?" the snooty woman still held her superior tone, "Because he tried to assault my husband!"
"Yes," the doctor furrowed his brow, "This is my son, but I highly doubt he tried to attack you husband ma'am. He's twelve."
"Carlisle, I didn't even touch him. I swear. He grabbed me first," Jasper turned to the blond man, "And it was only because I yelled at her," he pointed to the lady, "She yanked Alice up by the arm, so hard, I bet it left marks!"
Esme quickly pushed up girl's sleeve to reveal a red handprint that had already begun to bruise. That wildfire was ablaze in her eyes again. And Alice noted that she looked like a mother bear ready to attack. Carlisle, being far more level headed at this given moment, came between them. The little pixie sobbed harder, throwing her arms around her foster mother's neck.
"It seems the only violence here today was done to my children," Esme lifted Alice into her arms, as she protectively pushed Jasper behind her.
"Hey lady," the former father snapped, "I can talk to that kid however I want, and so can my wife. No matter what you all say, she's got half my DNA."
"Excuse me, sir," the children nervously watched as Carlisle's arm hair began to bristle, "You do not get to speak to my wife in such a way. And you certainly do not get to claim this beautiful child as your daughter. I have documented proof that you chose to give her up."
"So what? You're the kid's parents now?" the stepmother nearly cackled, "You don't know anything, you're just a kid yourself."
"Yes, I'm her foster father," the doctor glared, "Alice isn't even legally mine and I can tell you that my wife and I love her and care for her more than you ever did."
"What? Do you want a prize for taking on the burden my first wife left me?" Mr. Brandon shrugged.
Carlisle's face turned from shock, to anger, to acceptance in less than a second. He knew there would be no use trying to reason with them, "No. I don't. But thank you, for not only allowing Esme and me the gift of raising this girl, but for showing my sons what a true coward looks like." He turned to his family and rested his hand on his daughter's back as she sobbed into his wife's shoulder, "It's time for us to go."
That day, a vision solidified itself in Alice's mind, the Cullen's were her family. And that would never change.
oOoOo
"We moved to Forks after that," Alice shrugged, "Things got a lot better…until well…now."
"So, Ms. Brandon," Caius rubbed his temples, trying to follow the girl sporadic train of thought, "What your telling me is that you still have good memories of your real family."
"My first family," the tiny dark-haired girl corrected, "Real implies that they're my true family, which they aren't. I don't have good memories of them. I have masked memories. My therapist told me that I use my vivid imagination to overshadow that trauma that I experienced. It's how I protect myself."
"Do you often find yourself needing this protection?" he leaned against the wooden bar between them
She thought for moment, "No, not really. Carlisle and Esme are very good at making sure I use my real feelings. They don't need for me to be perfect. They just need me to be Alice."
"Well, Mary…" the lawyer began.
"Alice," she corrected again.
"Alice," he continued, exasperated, "What would be the perfect scenario, for you?"
"Easy," the girl's dark eyes glimmered, "My real parents. You know, Carlisle and Esme," she pointed towards them, "They'll adopt me!"
"Well," Caius smirked, as he walked away from the stand, "I can't insure that'll happen."
"I can," Alice stood defiantly, "I've seen it!"
Present Day
"So does Alice really have visions?" Bella's mouth hung open in shock.
Edward shrugged, with a chuckle, "Who really knows. But, all I'm saying is I'd never bet against her."
"Well, clearly, Carlisle and Esme are still your parents," the brunette took a sip of her coffee, "So did they adopt her?"
"Of course," her boyfriend smiled back, "They adopted Alice, Emmett, and me."
"Why not Rosalie and Jasper?" the girl's brown eyes stared at him in confusion.
"A matter of choice," he fiddled with his cup, "But, I'll explain that when we get to them."
"Ok, so get to them!" Bella replied impatiently.
Edward shook his head, "Not yet. We're going in order remember? Emmett went next!"