The water felt cool against her skin. Heat had long since left the tub, but she couldn't bring herself to leave it quite yet. Her skin stopped raisining when she was five years old. No one knew why. And no one truly noticed until she was older. Just one more benefit to being a—no, not that word. Anything but that word.
A loud set of raps, knuckles on hardwood, echoed into the bathroom from her closed bedroom door and her body lurched in a startle. The large mass of meat and scale tucked neatly—but uncomfortably—within the walls of the porcelain caused the water to slosh, splashing enough onto the rug to soak through to the tile. Morgan gasped instinctively at the sudden sound, arms slapping over her chest as she blinked away a bout of exhaustion.
"I'm coming!" she called, frustration audible in her voice.
"We're going to be late, Morgan!" a female voice came through the door, muffled, almost in sing-song, and she fought to keep from rolling her eyes. Alice. "It's your first day of Sophomore year! Esme wants pictures!"
"Okay! Just give me a minute!"
Morgan eased the scales into the skin of her legs, the meat taking the shape of feet attached to ankles, and she sighed at the sight of her human form. With both hands on either side of the tub, she pushed herself up to stand and carefully stepped out onto the partially drenched rug. Her clothes for the day had been pre-selected. They sat stacked neatly on the closed toilet lid, even their mild earth tones a little too bright for the pale of the bathroom.
She didn't enjoy this house as much as she had previous ones. Her parents were adamant about being creative in decorating her room, her spaces, insisting she simply tell them what she wanted and they would find a way to get it for her. They'd said the same things at every other house. Though, she couldn't quite understand her own personality much anymore. Not after Denali. Who was she now? What was she? Her family's opinion of her didn't change—in fact, her siblings all agreed that the new Morgan was cool. She was special, unique, gifted, to use her mother's words.
But, looking in the mirror at the outline of her own face, Morgan couldn't find any of those words. She still felt too pale, and the small smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose didn't add much help. With such a drastic change to her diet, she'd also lost some weight, and now she felt physically like a shell of her old self. Still, she combed out her hair and kept the makeup to a minimum of mascara and lip gloss as she always had. Her morning routine was about the only thing that remained the same.
Next, she toweled off and lathered her arms and legs in medicated lotion to combat her ever-present dry skin. Though it would be worse later in the day when she was truly dry, she would only have time to apply it in the mornings and it spared some stress. Then she dressed and gave her glasses a quick wash before exiting the bathroom. She pulled her cell phone off the charger on the bedside table, slung her bag over her shoulder, and unlocked the bedroom door.
The second she opened it, she was met with Alice's stressed appearance. "Come on, you need to eat before we leave," Alice grabbed at Morgan's shoulders and tugged, turning to guide her toward the stairs from behind. "And Esme wants a picture."
"She takes one every year," Morgan nodded.
Alice ushered Morgan all the way down the stairs. Taking a shorter stride, Morgan attempted to walk ahead of her and escape her grasp as they reached the bottom, moving quickly toward the kitchen. "There she is," Carlisle smiled warmly as she approached, standing in the kitchen archway with his hands in the pockets of his pants. He was dressed for work, she noted, but he hadn't left yet. "How'd you sleep?"
"Okay. I thought you'd be at the hospital already," Morgan pointed out, as she reached the archway.
He nodded, smiling a little more at the attention to detail, "Well, I didn't want to miss sending you on your way to school. It's a big day."
"Sophomore year," Esme spoke up from inside the kitchen, easing a filet onto a plate from a still-sizzling frying pan. "How exciting! I cooked you some swordfish—still your favorite, right?"
Morgan could feel a warmth in her chest—a dense kind that faded into the chest cavity until every inch was completely full. The excess poured itself out onto her face in the form of a small smile, a gesture she fought unsuccessfully. "Yeah, it is," she nodded a little, the bubbling excitement within her parents beginning to rub itself off on her. "You guys really didn't have to-"
"Nonsense. You only go to high school once, right?" Carlisle interrupted.
"I wish," Emmett strode into the kitchen then, drawing everyone's eyes. In his hands, he held a camera. The same camera they'd used to take a photo on the first day of each grade, all at different houses, in different towns, for different schools. But this time, it was only fitting it was all different, she thought, as her eyes landed on the device. He set it on the kitchen island, before continuing, "You ready for your close up?"
Carlisle placed his hand on her right shoulder in a comforting gesture, arm across her back, as he gently tugged her left side to his torso in a side-hug. "Bring it on," Morgan feigned enthusiasm, eliciting a chuckle from him.
"Alright, sit down and eat before you get the shakes," Esme insisted. She carried the plate of swordfish to the dining table in the connecting room as Emmett checked the camera for film. Carlisle gave Morgan's shoulder a squeeze before retracting his hand and instead gestured toward the dining room.
Morgan followed Esme to the dining table as her hands fidgeted in front of her, wringing lightly, put on the spot by the show made out of her morning. Truly, she did love the attention. She loved that they cared enough to go to such lengths to celebrate her. Despite it, she always felt an anxiety in her veins that flushed her cheeks with embarrassment when they did. Esme pulled out her chair for her as she approached, and Morgan tilted her head in a brief expression.
"Mom, it's another first day of school—it's not like I graduated," she reminded her. Still she sat and allowed Esme to help her scoot in, before the woman took her own seat to Morgan's left.
"Oh, I know, honey. We just love you so much," Esme spoke gently, her voice comfortingly soft as she reached out a hand, her other arm braced against the table as her fingers slid through the pale yellow strands of hair nearest her. "We want you to feel accomplished, because you are. We all know it hasn't been easy changing schools so many times. And we want to be able to remember these special occasions as you get older."
The warmth in Morgan's chest chilled just enough to notice. It soured her tongue, the implications of Esme's words. She'd known her whole life that some day she would die, and every member of her family would simply continue on, untouched. But it was bittersweet to think about as she folded her arm atop the table and reached for the fork beside her plate with the other hand.
Any other moment, she would have playfully swatted at her mother's hand, giving in under the pressure of the embarrassment, the spotlight. Today, however, she didn't have the heart to. Instead, she relished in the feeling of physical affection as Esme stroked her hair, and she dared herself to remember what her mother's skin felt like. "Thanks, mom," Morgan's voice was quieter, giving Esme a kind smile before taking a bite of the meal prepared for her.
"You're very welcome, sweetheart," Esme returned the smile. It had been just over three years since Morgan's life began to change so completely. With it came different requirements. Meals were comprised of nearly entirely fish—fresh caught, preferably. The water bill had gone up extensively with multiple daily baths and basic backyard pool maintenance. They began conducting monthly eye exams in order to keep up with her constantly changing vision status.
Morgan was easily the most high maintenance member of the family, but Esme and Carlisle did everything in their power to meet every need, satisfy every desire. Looking across the table at the young woman she'd become, Esme knew it was far more than worth it. After all, Morgan was the child Esme always wanted, but could never have. They scratched each other's backs, in a sense—Morgan satisfying Esme's desire for children, Esme satisfying Morgan's newly acquired aquatic needs.
Raising her was not without its rewards. Carlisle joined the women in the dining room, lowering into the chair across from Esme, and Esme finally retracted her hand. The absence was immediately noticed, but Morgan sat quietly as she ate. "Alright, I've got everything ready for pictures," Emmett's voice came from behind, and she twisted in her chair to see him.
"We should get this show on the road," Rosalie entered the dining room from the left. "We're going to be late if we don't leave in the next fifteen minutes."
Morgan hurried up from her chair and pushed it in, before taking her plate to the kitchen. "You've barely eaten," Esme worried over her, standing from the table to follow her into the next room. Though, it was then that a sudden blur formed the frame of Alice on the other side of the island, by the archway. She was followed quickly by the appearance of Jasper, the pair in complementary outfits that only highlighted their pale skin.
"It's okay, I've packed her lunch," Alice assured Esme, as Morgan placed her plate on the counter beside the sink. She turned to face her just as Alice set a plastic container atop the island. The inside contents appeared to be some kind of chunky mixture, and Morgan wrinkled her nose. But Alice was quick to explain, "It's tuna salad. With a pickle."
"Thank you," Morgan gave Alice a small smile before gratefully accepting the plastic container, slipping it into her bag beside her own camera. It'd been a Christmas gift from Emmett not many seasons prior. Something to aid one of the only hobbies she couldn't put down.
They would, in fact, be very late if they didn't leave soon. So, Alice and Jasper lead the way to the front door, leaving it open for Rosalie and Emmett to pass through. Edward arrived at the doorway in a blurred smear of dark blue, transitioning to a normal walk to make it past the porch, to show the others he was present and accounted for. But the moment Morgan's feet crossed the doorway, her eyes caught sight of a polar color that forced them to stand still.
Her jaw eased open as air caught in her lungs. Esme and Carlisle came to stand on either side of her, eager to observe her reaction to the newest addition to the Cullen family garage. "What is that?" Morgan questioned, shock rounding her eyes. But it was excitement that turned her head, twisting her torso at the waist to see her parents.
"An early birthday gift," Carlisle answered. "We know it's still months away, but we wanted you to be prepared to get your license the day of. The others have all agreed to take turns being your co-pilot."
In the driveway was parked a nineteen-seventies Volkswagen Beetle convertible—a car she couldn't remember mentioning, but had desperately wanted for four years. A squeal of genuine excitement erupted from somewhere within her and she lunged at Carlisle. "Thank you so much," she wrapped her arms around him in a tight but somewhat brief hug, which he returned, before moving to hug Esme next. "Both of you."
"It's got a full tank. Emmett checked the fluids this morning before you woke up. Everything should be in order and ready to use," Carlisle explained, as Morgan pulled away from Esme.
Esme placed a kiss to her daughter's cheek before allowing her to retreat completely, and Morgan smiled softly at her. "Can I get a picture before you go?" Esme asked.
"Oh, right," Morgan nodded. She moved to stand in front of the door—the setting for each photo throughout her youth. "Do you have the camera?"
As Carlisle and Esme moved to stand opposite her, Carlisle lifted up the device in a gesture, "Right here. Smile."
Morgan's smile was as genuine as she could muster under the manufactured circumstances, but she truly wanted the photo to be a nice memento. She put in a little extra effort to brighten her eyes, so that maybe the happiness her family managed to conjure within her could somehow be saved through the lens, paused forever in another frame on the mantle. The camera flashed and, not a second later, a car horn blared. All eyes turned to look, only to find Edward in the passenger seat of Morgan's new car with the window rolled down. "Let's go! She's not going off to war," he called out to them.
The heavy, groaning sigh his response elicited from Morgan was almost entirely involuntary. "Haven't you been around long enough to know which underwear gets stuck up there?" she called back, taking steps toward the stairs at the edge of the porch. But Edward was already rolling his window back up in a visual attempt at ignoring her. She turned to see her parents over her shoulder one more time, saying, "Bye, love you!" and then she was off.
She trotted quickly down the sparse steps before jogging to the driver's side of the beetle, and Carlisle and Esme waved from the porch as they replied with their own 'i love you's. As she slid into the front seat, she twisted her arm in order to toss her bag onto the small rear seats. "Keys?" Morgan held out a hand, palm up, toward Edward as her other hand pulled the door closed after her.
"Seat belt," Edward reminded, with a pointed expression.
Tossing her eyes, she was quick to comply and clip the seat belt into place across her torso. Only then did he hold out the keys for her to take. She plucked them from his hand and drove the key into the ignition, and with a twist the engine came to life. It felt so surreal to be behind the wheel of her dream car. She'd driven nearly all the other cars at least once—but this one was hers. With a final wave to their parents, Morgan drove down the driveway, following the gravel road behind the others in the Jeep.
The drive was relatively quiet. Every now and then, Edward would mumble a reminder or correction, but he preferred to simply observe. It was easier that way. There was a much lower chance for conversation. However, it seemed as soon as that thought crossed his mind, she began to speak—almost as though the tables had turned and the words rang out in her mind instead. "You told dad what to get, right?" she asked, rhetorically.
"He said he wanted to get you a car," Edward shrugged as he replied quietly. His eyes remained aimed at the glass ahead. Or, really, anywhere but in her direction. "Figured it should be something you'd actually like."
"Well, thank you."
He nodded, risking a swift glance in her direction. "You're welcome."
The tension within the vehicle was thick. It always was when they found themselves in a room together. There was no denying they'd had their ups and downs over the years, but Morgan still desired his affection and approval as much as from her other siblings—if anything, more so. His absence had only grown throughout her youth. However, the explanation wasn't nearly as obvious. In stories, the others had described Edward as 'adoring' during her infancy in their household.
Then, at some point, he backed off. Maybe he'd grown tired of it? Bored? After all, what immortal being wants to spend their days changing diapers and pacifying a stranger's baby? Though it was understandable from an impersonal perspective, it left a sting like a hand across her cheek every time he turned away from her. Morgan fought to maintain her positive mood as the silence resumed. It didn't matter if he cared, she knew. The rest of her family did. And that was enough.
When they pulled into the high school parking lot, Morgan took the spot beside the Jeep. Before she'd turned the key, Edward had opened his door, and ducked out of the vehicle as the engine began to settle. A disappointed sigh slipped past her lips, but she swallowed it down and followed suit. Pushing the door shut behind her, she pulled her bag strap onto her shoulder and walked around the end of the Jeep to join the others.
Then, she paused as a thought came to mind. Her eyes immediately dropped and she shoved a hand into the top of her bag. "Everything okay there, short stack?" Emmett questioned, only partially in jest, as he rubbed a hand over the top of her head.
She scoffed and shot him a disgruntled look as she ducked away, but continued rifling through her bag. "I think I left my water bottle at home," she explained her demeanor.
Jasper reached into the backseat of the Jeep on the other side from them, retracting his hand to reveal a reusable plastic bottle. Morgan C was scribbled on the bottom with black marker, the name visible as he tossed the full bottle over the end of the Jeep, toward Emmett. "Head's up," he warned his brother, as it sailed through the air.
But Emmett caught it with ease, before holding it out to Morgan. Her slightly distressed features flattened as her eyebrows knitted. "Thanks," she spoke slowly, taking the bottle from his hand. She hadn't remembered seeing Jasper grab the bottle. After all, she'd left it in her bedroom. Perhaps he got it before joining them downstairs? Regardless, having it would make the school day much, much easier. Already she was feeling a dryness in her throat, in her lungs, and there was nothing strong enough on this earth to force her to use the public fountain.