I do not own Twilight.
I have a few chapters on hold for tomorrow, and plan to write for a good portion of the day, so stay tuned because things could get hectic.
Enjoy!
"You gonna go back?" Alice asks.
We're sitting in her car in the driveway of my mom's house. Charlie's cruiser is here, so I know he, at least, is home.
I shrug, because I haven't been thinking about that much. "I don't know if he wants me to. I mean, he asked to go back to his cell last time."
Alice rolls her eyes and picks at the ends of her slightly longer hair. It's not as crazy now, and I'm almost certain she could pull it into a ponytail if she tried hard enough. I kind of miss the spiky ends.
"The day Edward doesn't want you around him will be the day pigs fly," she says.
I heave a sigh and look out the window at the surrounding woods, the road, the other houses. Everything is so normal out here, it seems so weird. Edward hasn't seen normal in three months. I'm suddenly stunned that I actually don't know how he is doing. I don't think I've asked him once during the sessions; I haven't had a chance. Everything is so structured based on what Beth thinks is best.
"How's your dad, by the way?" Alice asks after a few seconds of silence. She's looking at me with real concern. I feel like we are in high school again, hanging out in a car in a driveway somewhere, extending our curfews for as long as possible. Mine was always much earlier than hers.
"He's doing good," I say. "He's pretty much healed. He can't go back to work. He spends a lot of time moping around and hiding his crutches from my mom." I smile, because it feels nice to be able to say things like this when, two months ago, I was rushing to the hospital, thinking I may not find him in a positive condition. "How's your dad?" I ask.
"Oh," Alice says, and waves her hand dismissively. "He's fine. I hate that the hospital doesn't tell you what happened when they call. I rushed over, thinking my dad was dead."
I nod in agreement, but Alice is looking at me sheepishly.
"What?" I ask, taken aback.
"I'm sorry for what I said to you in the elevator." She grimaces. "It was really bitchy of me."
I laugh, because it seems like years ago that I saw her in the elevator. Decades, really. Another lifetime.
"It's fine," I say. "I deserved it."
"Maybe you did," Alice says and her grin makes the corners of her eyes crease. I laugh; I can't help it.
"Thanks for the ride," I say and then stop before getting out of her car, my fingers reaching for the handle. "Do you think we can be friends again?" I ask and I really hope the answer is yes. If not right now, then sometime in the future.
"I thought we already were friends again," is her only response.
And this is just how Alice is. One minute, everything is a mess, and the next, the corners have been smoothed and everything is together.
I've missed this in my life.