Being home alone was a new experience. Charlie would get back from work around 5:30 p.m. So I had three extra hours to be home alone. Using my spare time, I took stock of the fridge to make a shopping list. If we only had the basics, then we'd probably get bored quickly. Not that it matters right now since we're going out to eat later tonight.

Kitchen tasks done, I sat about getting my computer setup. All it needs now is the internet. Something that was beyond my understanding without being able to look it up. I also have a small window of time to try my hand at clearing the air of the house, so to speak.

The house needed a lot of work. I started by opening windows, letting the cool fresh air chase out the stagnant. Significant items, like the couch, the kitchen table and chairs, even the fireplace, were easy to fix. Going in and out of the rooms with a giant cardboard box on my hip, I collected the smaller bobbles, tackle boxes, books, photos, and even dishware before setting it on the kitchen table.

There were a lot of photos. They lined the wall. I'd heard the myth that a piece of someone's soul caught itself in each photograph, and I was beginning to believe it with the energy these were giving off. They were nice pictures too. Charlie's parents, Renee, me, but they were still too sad. I almost felt like touching one, but I knew I'd go back to that moment, and I didn't know how long my mind would be kept there. It was safer behind the cool glass. I set it aside, trying to ease the guilt from ignoring the grandparents I'd never met.

If someone were watching me right now, it might look like I was meditating. Picking something up, rotating it, rubbing it, moving it, each thing's aura becoming easier to stomach every second. By the end of the hour, I was a sweating, nauseous mess. I wasn't able to stop one vision from slipping past my defenses, Charlie younger than now, alone by the fireplace, nursing a beer and staring at the calendar. July 2001, that year, I'd have been thirteen and should have been with him. The loneliness was stifling, and after it was cleansed, I was glad to be rid of it. Now, if only I could control all my other magic, then maybe I'd be in a better place too.

In the end, the room was lighter. The fireplace felt cozy, the pictures a message of love. I'd also taken it upon myself to place crystals around the house. I'd prepared the necessary excuse that I'd gotten into geology long ago in case Charlie asked. I hated taking a shower before bed, worse if it was even on the same day. But I had to fix myself. Aside from the sweat, the smell of electricity and static clung to me.

By the time Charlie was home, I'd taken a quick shower, my hair was wrapped in a towel, and I was sitting on the couch reading Wuthering Heights for English, a cup of tea on the coffee table. The rooms had been sufficiently aired out, and it felt like a completely different house.

"Jesus Bells, what'd you do to the place?" He came in holding a white bag with what looked like a book of some kind. He set it down on the floor.

I sat up, putting my book down. "Cleaned. You don't like it?"

"No ― I mean yes, I just ― is this really the same house?"

"Unless we are breaking and entering, then yes, this is the same house."

Charlie opened then closed his mouth, putting his belt and gun away. Guess I never really cleaned then? Even the room looks lighter. How the hell? I snorted, grabbing my tea letting him explore. I hadn't really moved anything.

"I was thinking of going to the store tomorrow, that big thrift one, and grabbing some pots."

Charlie looked at the photos over the fireplace, clearing his throat briefly, "Going to start gardening?"

"That's the plan." I poured some more hot water from the kettle, an ancient thing, into my cup. "Unless you would prefer me to just stick to the outside. I wanted to get herbs but thought the rain would wash them out."

Charlie looked around the room one last time, "well, do what you want. I obviously don't know what I've been doing for a good while." I just grinned and sipped my tea. He gestured to the towel on my head. "Are you going to be ready to go to The Lodge like that?"

"I can be ready in five." I sat my tea down, removing the bag and dropping it into the trash. Whether or not Charlie knew what was about to happen was beyond me. I was starving. Using up all that energy cleaning the house had made me ravenous. The only thing tiding my hunger over was all the water and tea I'd been drinking since we had nothing I'd wanted to make.

I hurried, tugging on fresh clothes, looking longingly at my bed I wouldn't mind sleeping in. Loose leggings and a baggy shirt. I put my hair into a bun, then ran down the stairs in my tennis shoes. Charlie grabbed his keys, then we were out the door and in his cruiser.

He was quiet, looking at me and back at the road. His thoughts were quiet too, but his mood was confused, curious, and a touch happy. It was the last one that didn't make me question him. We pulled up to The Lodge, a homie place that only existed in towns like these. The wood paneling, natural and unpainted. A dark green roof, large windows showing people in booths enjoying their meal. In one booth, I noticed Jessica sitting with her family.

I debated ignoring her but decided against it. I felt guilty, but obviously, she'd forgotten what happened at lunch. When Charlie and I walked in, a woman with a small apron, yellow shirt, and black slacks greeted Charlie and me. Asking if I was the daughter he always talked about. Charlie grew red and itched his nose before we both sat down not too far away from Jessica's table.

"Someones waving at you," Charlie said. I turned and looked, and Jessica was waving. I returned the gesture. "Glad it seems like you made friends."

"I'm like a shiny new toy," I replied, opening the menu. "People will get bored of me soon enough."

"Well, don't make that seem like it's a bad thing." he scoffed.

"Would you like to go back to high school for me?" At his silence, I added, "thought as much."

"It was that bad?"

I shrugged, looking at him, "No, it was a good day. I had people to sit down with at lunch. I was only late to one class. My Trig teacher seems like he has a vendetta against any student who might do well. It was a completely normal day." I lied.

"Well, I'm happy to hear that. Who else did you meet."

"Why, so you can run a background check?"

"Maybe."

I laughed, setting my menu down already deciding I wanted a steak and salad. "That's Jessica. I met a kid from my English class, Mike."

"I assume that's Mike Newton. The Newtons run a sporting goods store nearby. It does pretty well with the backpackers."

I nodded, "I also met Angela Weber."

"Nice girl, that one, dad's a pastor."

"Also met someone named Lauren, I think someone named Eric." Eric hadn't introduced himself, but Jessica had thought of him. "I also met an Edward."

"Carlisle's boy?"

"One of them. So out of those people, what're your thoughts?" The waitress came by and took our orders. Charlie raised his brows at mine, but he ordered roughly the same thing.

"I think it's a good group. I haven't pulled anyone in for a misdemeanor yet." He put his elbows on the table, "Carlisle, he's a good one. He and his wife moved to town, I think, two years ago now. He's kind of above this town's paygrade. We're lucky to have him and his wife, Esme, who fell in love with the place. I should probably have him give you a check-up too. Man's a good doctor."

I took a sip of my water, letting Charlie talk. He mentioned the kids, how they were all exemplary in some way, and they didn't cause trouble.

"People think bad about them because they're different, going camping every other weekend and the like. But they're just living their lives. The gossip mongers are just searching for anything they can get their hands on. I wouldn't pay any attention to it."

I nodded, "I get that."

"Any trouble today?"

"Like someone giving me a hard time? Or someone avoiding me because of you?"

"You have to choose?" He grimaced.

"All I'll say is that your name precedes you, Chief." I joked, "The teachers all think very highly of you."

He shook his head, "Sorry 'bout that."

"You don't have to apologize. Like you said, we shouldn't pay any attention to it."

Our food came quickly, and we paused our conversation to eat while it was hot. The food was good, better than I expected. The food stalled all conversation, and we ate in pleasant silence. At the end of the meal, Charlie left a healthy tip for our waitress. I was comfortably full and tired, even if it was just now nearing eight o'clock.

When we got home, I said as much. Charlie said good night and told me he was going to putz around some more. I went up to my room, yawning, playing the events of today over in my head.

My newest ability to avoid the rain seemed odd. I didn't know what type of power that was. Maybe it put me under a bubble of sorts. It felt like it messed with physics, and I'd keep an eye out if it happened more later. I would be lying if I wasn't shaken by how Jessica forgot what I said in response to her speculation on Mrs. Cullen and the Hale twins. It was better than what happened with Sam, but still, it was unintentional and frightening.

What if I told someone to hold their breath? Or told them they should give me all their money? I wouldn't be malicious enough to do that, but I didn't want to think about it. I recognized why. Compulsion. And unlike Renee, I didn't want to be unaware of when I took agency away from others. I clenched my fists. As much as I loved her, I couldn't shake the feeling of being used or essentially forced to do things because she wanted me to. I resented that she wasn't aware of what she was doing. It's dangerous, and I didn't want to be the same.

So now I'm trying to get ahead of the curve. I released my hands and took a breath. Climbing into bed. I let my body relax. Tomorrow I had more errands to run. Things to build a nest I'd be comfortable in. Then I could work on the powers I came to work on, or maybe even my new ones. I felt clammy at the thought. For now, though, I wanted to rest.

I was lying in a field of flowers. So many wild blooms I don't think I could name them all. The sun was on my face, and I saw diamonds. I laughed, curling up into a cold embrace. The man, I couldn't see, but he let his arm slide down mine before he brought my hand up to kiss my palm. A hazy image of his eyes, dripped in honey, crinkled with affection.

I leaned up and moved my hand across his chin over his lips. Feeling their fullness but unable to see them. He smiled against my fingers before he playfully nipped them. I snatched my hand back, my mouth moving, but I couldn't make out the words. He leaned forward, touching his forehead to my shoulder.

I felt light, my eyes lowering to him as I took my hand, bringing it up to his hair, then ran my fingers through his locks. I gently moved my hands to cup his face, then I smiled and leaned down to brush my lips against his.

"Is this what you expected?"

I gasped, cold in my room. I'd kicked the comforter off at some point. My room was still dark, and I had to pull myself from the still-potent smell of lilacs and sun to look at my clock. Two a.m. I brushed my hands over my hair, which had gotten loose in the night, and allowed myself to groan. I sank back down my bed, wondering if I could will myself back to sleep, to the dream. But I'd lost it.

Three a.m. then four. Even with my eyes closed, I saw honey hues staring back at me. I'd rarely had romantic dreams, especially ones where I couldn't see the other. It felt like heartache. I decided to rub it out of my chest. I sat wondering if that was just a dream or a premonition. A question I usually only had when dreams were that vivid.

But try as I might, I didn't think it was real, men did not sparkle, and eyes like that did not typically exist outside of contacts. It felt like I had a hole in my heart, and I cursed my subconscious that would tease me that way.

The rest of my morning consisted of me tiptoeing around the house. Getting coffee started, soft boiling eggs for later, putting together a cheese sandwich for my lunch. I filled the time as much as I could, running from the weird sensation of loss since I woke up.

It was frustrating, and I found myself annoyed by Charlie for the first time at a thought directed at the bags under my eyes. I was being unfair, so I held the snippy reply back. It would have only confused him and made me madder.

School was weird today. I wore another sweater and decided to test the thermal leggings I bought. Warm enough to get by. I survived English and was officially introduced to Eric, while Mike decided to sit next to me, much to the original seat owner's annoyance.

Eric shot daggers at Mike, who announced loudly for everyone in the vicinity that he would walk me to our next class. It felt like Mike was claiming me as territory, something I didn't appreciate. Eric offered to come with me since his class was next door, and I made a point to keep him between Mike and myself till we got to class.

I was starting to feel how tired I was around trig. Mr. Varner called on me for a question I hadn't raised my hand to. I plucked the answer from his head, which followed with an unfavorable comparison to other know-it-alls. I didn't let it bother me. Other than that, Jessica was someone I'd begun to doubt had any kind intentions toward me at all.

She was with me for attention, so her thoughts told me. After class, we went to lunch and sat with an increased table of people. Eric, Angela, Jessica, Mike, and myself. Lauren retreated to a table of separate friends, and her thoughts were particularly dark when I was mentioned in conversation. My cheese sandwich seemed sad compared to what lunch was serving, but I'd be going to the store soon enough.

I expected Biology to be a stilted, awkward affair, at least until I found out Edward Cullen was absent. I wish I could say it was easier. But Mike's feelings, much like Lauren's, were borderline infectious. I felt scattered because they'd tangled in mine during our apparent close proximity. I didn't lie to myself. I wanted the silence. Needed it with the way my migraines have been adding up.

During gym, I accidentally used my magic. When a wayward ball I'd hit went towards my teammate, I swiped hard to the left, making it spike loudly against the floor, and the students nearby jumped. No one noticed it was me, but I spent fifteen minutes in a bathroom wiping the sweat from my body post-panic attack.

School couldn't have ended quickly enough. I'd made it to my truck and all but sped out of the lot. Errands were not something I enjoyed, especially when I'd been down in Phoenix. I pulled up to the thrift store that doubled as a grocery store and hardware store. Never mind the sprinkle of rain, thoughts of food became secondary. I needed to get my hand on some plants.

The store nursery was small and roofed off. Its plants were on two shelves, all the other space taken up by tools. It was nothing out of the ordinary, but I knew I'd have to go to a nursery for more. Looking at all the plants with their waxy or soft leaves, I felt at home, holding them in their pots. I eyed them strategically so they wouldn't look amiss in Charlie's house. A sad pot of wilting chamomile caught my eye. It was added to my cart and a variety of dill, mint, parsley, rosemary, tarragon, and thyme. I bought medium-sized square pots that I was sure to fit in the corners or on the window.

I couldn't resist a hanging English ivy plant, and aside from seeds I hadn't looked at, I knew the allowance I allotted myself was nearly capped.

I walked around the store, familiarizing myself with the layout. In the grocery store, I bought chicken and beef. Marinade mixes, noodles, canned vegetables for soups. I looked longingly at the cooking wine. I needed to have Charlie pick some up later. I meandered over fresh fruits and vegetables. I was sure if Charlie were to make a salad, it'd come straight from a bag. Shaking my head, I put a variety of vegetables in my cart. Eventually, there was no more space, and I was done. I'd likely spend the rest of the day frustrated and sorting these into their proper place in the kitchen.

I wasn't wrong. It took a lot of finagling to fit all the groceries in my truck, and I spent a reasonable amount of time protecting the mound beside me anytime I braked too hard. Getting home, I spent time reorganizing a system of dry goods, spices, and perishables in the kitchen. I started prepping carrots, potatoes, and celery, hoping Charlie wouldn't mind chicken noodle soup for dinner. Moving the dial to a simmer, I let the soup sit and do its thing while I started replanting my herbs.

Charlie came home soon after, his thoughts front and center, Smells good. which gave me some additional confidence. He checked out the soup, stirring the pot curiously, then picked up the mint and pursed his eyebrows. Though it was only the second day, he asked some of the same questions as before. If I'd made any new friends, how were the classes, and if I was thinking of joining any clubs. I tried giving him longer answers than a simple, "It was fine." But eventually, my weariness won out, and we sat in semi-awkward silence.

We were sitting at the table, the sounds of our spoons clicking against the bowl. Charlie started talking, "I fixed the internet."

I pepped up at that, "When?"

"I found the time, figured it would help."

"Thanks, dad." Then added, "sorry if I'm a little closed off. Just a lot on my mind."

He nodded, spooning his soup in silence. Must be missing Renee. Or maybe I'm not doing enough?

I took a breath, "But I don't want you to think it's anything you're doing." I hesitated, wondering what I could say to alleviate some of his thoughts. "I have pretty vivid dreams and can get stuck in my head sometimes. Today was just one of those days, you know?"

Oh. "We'll if you need a moment, just let me know."

"I will." I smiled. We finished our meal in a more comfortable silence after that. Charlie grabbed the dishes citing the same rule I said earlier, and I spent some time finding a bowl to put the leftover soup in for both our lunches tomorrow.

I was actually able to get some sleep last night. It snowed a bit, and aside from catching myself mid-slip a couple of times, I survived another day at school with thunderous inner chatter. Edward was still absent, and as ego-filled as it was, I wondered if I was the cause of it. His family appeared as usual, but I didn't get much insight into their thoughts aside from their general feelings. Worry, annoyance, and impassive acceptance.

My head hurt too much, but I was able to pick up a word or two from his sister, the blonde one. Risky — Not worth it — Things — put up with. My head pulsed, and I quickly turned my head to the table. Maybe I'd get better when the migraine went away.

Aside from that, I'd been fidgeting almost all day with the urge to come home. I really wanted to practice my powers. When I walked into the living room, I threw all my bags on the couch, and then I rushed upstairs to put on some hiking boots and grab a scarf. This was my first time doing this, and the anticipation made me more aware as I stood at the edge of the forest. There was a clear divide. I recalled every fairytale I'd ever read where some unsuspecting child walked into the woods, how it was used as a metaphor for change.

And then I just did it. I walked, crushing twigs and sticks under already crunchy snow, hopping over small plants, and struggling past bigger ones. Maybe twenty minutes in, I found a small clearing where the ground was level and dotted with hoofprints. A sign this area was well attended to by the elk or deer.

Yet despite the feeling of it being right, my first thought was, What now? I moved in the clearing, debating silently before taking off my jacket, the one I'd saved for the coldest days. My breath came out in white puffs, and I rubbed my hands together in front of my mouth, trying to generate heat. Maybe I should rethink writing down my powers. It might actually be nice to have a record of what I could do.

Charlie wasn't the type to enter my room, and I seriously doubted anyone reading it would understand what I meant.

I usually just did magic, not practice it. So I didn't know where to start. I couldn't believe I'd walked all the way out here but didn't know what I was doing. I kicked a rock. "Great Idea Bella." Stupid. What did I expect to happen? It's not like I was a Disney princess calling animals to me with a song, and for a second, I thought it was possible. It wasn't like I was mortified enough. I stood lamely in the semicircle of trees.

I knew I was empathetic, I was comfortable with what I could do so far with that. As for hearing thoughts, I couldn't practice that alone. It's not like it had an on and off switch. I had visions of the past and the future. I could float, It'd happened twice, but it was rare. Could I do that? I took a breath and shook out my hands, wondering how I should start.

I jumped, trying not to shoot my hands up in the air like superman. I felt ridiculous. I eyed the rock that I kicked and stepped on it. It was only an additional foot off the ground. I leaped off of it. Landing on my feet, but I didn't fly.

It would have been nice if it worked the first time. I hopped back on the rock to try again. I gave little jumps, as I whispered "I got this." under my breath on repeat, and I shot off of it harder this time. I landed, slipping quickly, and my butt hit the ground hard. I bounced on the cold Earth, cold slush streaking up and down my back. "Oh, come on!"

I picked myself off, sliding the ice off my jeans, and took a breath. I tried again, and again, and again, and again. My face was flushed, my body hot and wet, my hands chapped from the cold. I felt like a child wanting to stomp and scream for a moment but somehow managed to hold my tongue.

I huffed through another cold breath. Obviously, I was doing something wrong. Maybe it was something else. The last two times, it'd been unintentional. I was almost meditating, trying to fix a different problem. Maybe it was the meditation-like state that did it. It didn't seem very useful, especially with my eyes closed, but I didn't know how much time had passed. The grey sky rolling overhead with the threat of more snow. I sat down. Crisscrossed on the snow. Copying the pose I'd done when I'd wished myself away.

I kept my back ramrod straight at first till it relaxed into a gentle curve. Allowed my body to do what felt right. Suddenly, I thought of golden eyes, a flower field, sun, and lilacs. No. Flight.

The thought fought its way between my focus and last night's dream. I felt a kiss on my palm and then my wrist. I clenched my hand, eyes shut tight. A breath stuttered out of me, and then I felt the air around me tingled, smelling like lilacs in the breeze.

"Is this what you expected?"

I opened my eyes, and in front of me, without a drop of snow on it, was a lilac tree. The clouds above Forks, rolling away as if a strong breeze pushed them aside, and in their place was the sun. My head was splitting, my hands clenched so hard the nails were biting into my palms, I'd made a lilac tree appear in front of me with magic.

I wanted to cry, and after a second, I was wiping silent tears across my cheeks. Even if it wasn't what I wanted, I did something. And while it was beautiful, I couldn't help but be disappointed. The smell coming from the delicate purple blooms was light, and the sun warmed my front. How unfair was it that my magic bought me a happy memory, but it wasn't good enough?

After that, I put on my jacket, wiping my eyes and wrapping my scarf three times around my neck. Poking and prodding the tree told me it was really here. I let my hand linger over some buds of flowers. Bloom. Watching slowly as they unfurled from their buds. I wonder what Grandma Marie would make of this. I took a step back, looking around the clearing then using my foot to dig into the snow to the frozen clover underneath.

I placed my hands onto the sad, flat plants. Grow. Then watched as they multiplied, shooting through the snow all around me. I was both amazed and curious. I had always had a green thumb, but I'd never gotten to experiment with it and didn't know how much I could stretch it. I stopped, standing. What if I could do it from a distance? Looking at a fern peeking up from the snow, I imagined it growing thicker, taller, wider. My headache pulsed anew, but I saw snow shift on the plant.

I let go. It worked, it was harder, but it worked. It hadn't taken long, and it wasn't just the fern that had changed. The clearing around me was now devoid of snow. Plants unfurled from their hibernation, creating a little scene of spring. Stems rise and then become heavy with the size of their leaves. I turned in a circle watching it happen, feeling powerful, hopeful because this was the first time I could just be.

My nose stung. I brought my hand up and touched the bottom of my nostril, pulling it back to see blood. I pinched it shut, sighing, and hoped it would solve itself. Looking up at the sun, devoid of clouds, I realized I could do more than I imagined. I pulled my hand away, giving my nose an extra check to see if it was still running before deciding to walk back to my house.

I'd walked further into the woods than I expected, but I still managed to beat Charlie. I took care of my aching body, grabbing a bag of frozen peas and working it on a sore spot on my back. I'd get my knees later. Turns out flying was out of the question, for now. My palms had cuts on them, and one of my wrists was shot. But I can make plants appear out of thin air and could make them grow, isn't that what really matters?

The next day, I hid my injuries in gloves and a long-sleeved tee-shirt. It was another sunny day. On my drive to school, I had to avoid pedestrians jogging in and around traffic. The school was vastly different on a warm day. People sat outside on benches to eat. I had to dodge multiple slushy snowball attempts from both Mike and Eric. Jessica said she'd make anyone and everyone pay if they got snow in her curls. I believe her. Angela and I were making mini snowpeople to place with us at the table. I had a blast, laughing, joking, feeling normal.

I also noticed the Cullens weren't nearby. I didn't even have to ask before Jessica supplied it for me as if she expected me to ask.

"Dr. Cullen pulls the kids anytime there's decent weather to go camping." She kicked her foot in the snow, and the school doesn't even seem to care, I could never. "They probably have a cabin somewhere."

I simply nodded and broke a carrot stick for both Angela and my snowpeople.

It was when I got home that I felt my spirits dip. I hadn't checked my email. Logging into my computer for the second time— I had four emails, all from Renee. The first was from four days ago.

Bella

Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida. But I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom.

I sighed and moved on to the next one.

Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom.

I reread the message, I could understand that she wanted to hear from me. But it was also the first time that I hadn't jumped at her beck and call in a long time.

Isabella,

If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today, I'm calling Charlie.

The timestamp was from yesterday when I went out to practice my magic. The next one was sent an hour later.

I don't know what I expected. No one picked up. This is exactly what I was worried about, Bella. I want to have a serious conversation with you about this. I can't believe we haven't been in contact at all.

I started writing,

Sorry, Mom,

I've been busy setting up for school and acclimating to the weather. It turns out I enjoy the rain, but it's sunny now. The flight was fine, no turbulence. Did you find your blouse? It was with Phil's laundry, so maybe you've found it by now. Dad is great. He is really busy, so go easy on him. He's made sure I feel at home here, including getting me this computer, so I don't have to go back and forth from the library. It took a bit for the internet to get up and running, but we're all good to go. I love you.

I sent the message. I felt a rock in my stomach, I didn't typically look into our messages, but it was hard not to read into them now. If her email was anything to go by, she was already in Florida. I set the computer clock to EST to know what her time was, just in case.

I spent the rest of the night eating with Charlie, then coming up to put ointment on my bruises. I wished writing to Renee hadn't been as off-putting as it was. Instead, it made me weird, and I had enough weirdness already. I threw myself on my bed, bouncing back, and looked at my ceiling. It was easy to fade away. Tranquil. My first night, I'd been on edge, but I didn't have to be on edge anymore. I was making it my own.

Charlie could tell me to mow the lawn or water rocks, and I could say no. The freedom of that was worth an angry email. I'd pacify her. I've done it for years. Curling into a ball on the covers, I slid a pillow under my head. I didn't want to get her on the phone just yet. I don't know if she could compel me through that— which was rare enough, even with my pendant. Technology and Renee had always been polar opposites. Maybe that would stop it? I wouldn't know till it happened though.

Not that she'd know I wanted to wait for a couple more precautions to talk to her. Then there was Charlie. Did he have any immunity to her magic? I sighed, taking a sheet and pulling it over me. Charlie was fine. I was fine. We would be fine. I've planted roots here. I just don't know how she'll react to finding out I wanted to see where those roots took me.

Snow. Soft piles of snow were everywhere. White-capped trees stood sporadically around me. I was in a forest, different from the Olympia. These were pine and grand giant firs. I shuddered, but the cold didn't bother me. I looked down and saw I was still wearing the long-sleeved shirt and loose sweats I'd worn to bed. I leaned down and tried to scoop some snow up, only to have the faintest sensation of cold and nothing in my hand.

I took a step forward, and again there was a sensation of wind, but it didn't bother me. Odd? I was sure I was asleep. At that thought, I looked down to count all my fingers, five on each hand, nothing off about them. If this wasn't a dream, then what was it? I had no choice but to look at the clues around me.

I turned, looking up at the sky, and gasped. The sky was dotted with the most stars I'd ever seen. But it was the giant green ribbon of light tinged with purple moving like waves on the sea. The Northern Lights danced across the sky, and I stood wide-eyed, feeling small. Alaska. I started walking, my feet hovering slightly over the snow. Why Alaska?

Then I saw him.

Edward Cullen, sitting in a snowbank. Still, like one of Michelangelo's sculptures. Had I conjured him here? I walked toward him without a sound and took in the icy pale of his skin. Tilting my head, I decided this was a dream. Crouching down to look at the frost on his eyelashes, the snow lay unmelted on his hands. I didn't know my mind could be so morbid as to make this image.

"I'm sorry." I whispered, "I didn't know I would do this to you."

His eyes opened slowly, looking at me before him. I expected him to say something cryptic. Instead, he all but groaned. "Why are you here?"

Pinching my brows together, I shook my head. "This is a dream."

"As if I could do that." His eyes were more of a burnt amber than the black I remembered. "Then this would be more of a nightmare."

"I think that's a bit far." I sat, rocking back on my hands.

His brow furrowed, and he took a cautionary breath. I don't know what he was waiting for, but he seemed to relax as he released his breath. Meanwhile, I tried making it seem like I wasn't invading his dream.

After some more silence, I hesitated to speak. "Besides, aren't nightmares supposed to play on our fears?"

He looked as if he was in pain, or maybe like he was going to laugh. It was hard to say. "I'd say this has done a pretty good job of playing on them."

I would have bristled, but it was cordial. Instead, I shrugged. "That must be hard for you then."

"You have no idea."

"You're right, and here we are."

"In a dream," he muttered, looking at me, taking in my clothes, my hair, my eyes. "I still can't read you."

The riddles were forthcoming, after all. "And I can't read you," I said back. Even in the dream, his thoughts were silent. He couldn't know what I meant by reading him anyway, so I moved on, "You've been gone a while."

"I will be for longer still."

"Then what's the point of this?" I questioned. Why did I find myself in his dream? I felt like Alice talking to The Hatter.

"I don't know." His brows also pinched in confusion. "I think I'm trying to talk myself out of being the monster I'm capable of being."

I was curious, "Is it working?"

"No," he laughed. It was a rich sound. "No, I'm doing very bad at that."

"At least you're trying. That's all we can do."

"Is it?"

"I think so. Being yourself, being the monster, being both, it's a struggle." Like my magic, I could control it or let it run amok. I sighed. "Sometimes, what's right isn't easy."

"I've heard that before."

"It's good advice. Old advice, but it's true."

He looked amused. "Right and wrong, good and evil, it's subjective. Should I do what I want, despite the consequences?"

"I don't know. What's right for me may be wrong for you."

"So what would you do then. In your opinion of right and wrong."

"With what?"

He still looked amused, "if this is my dream, shouldn't you already know?"

I scoffed, standing, "Like I said, I can't read you. So I don't know." His gaze turned curious, and he rested his hand against his leg. "What are you doing?"

"You've never lasted this long before." Now it was my turn to be perplexed. Then, hesitantly he reached out, looking at me for permission before reaching his hand toward mine. Just before contact, I lurched up in my bed. I retched, sweat pouring down my body. I looked at the clock. One a.m. I felt heavy and cold, so unlike the last time. I all but crawled myself from bed to the bathroom.

I shivered, stripping off my clothing to hop in the shower. I needed heat. Water rolled down my body. Even at its coldest, it was warmer than me. I fought through it to get to the heat, almost melting when it soothed me. I stood under the water for a while, moving only when I heard gentle knocking.

"Bells? Are you okay?"

I rubbed a hand down my face. Stopping the water, I called out, "yeah. I'm fine."

"I just wanted to check." I should give her some privacy.

"Thanks." Glad he was leaving on his own, adding as an afterthought to myself, I muttered, "It should be easier to go to bed after this."

The water warmed me up, I took longer than I typically would, and I'd stay in longer if I could. Instead, I reluctantly shut off the shower. I toweled off and got redressed in my pajamas, even with them being damp. I wanted to try and go to sleep. It felt like I was outside my body, and despite both feet on the ground, it was hard to place where I was. I was trying and failing to move on from Edward's dream.

We'd only met two times if I could call that "meeting." It was still my first week here, and I would rather not flirt or date anyone yet, especially with all my issues. I'd seen what jumping into a relationship had done to Renee, that was enough to make me second guess dating in general.

What a peaceful dream, though. Sad but peaceful. If my dreams were just scenic overlooks or walks in the rain, I wouldn't be able to tell reality from sleep. It wasn't until the light was coming in that I knew I hadn't been asleep, and just like Tuesday, I didn't get much sleep at all.

Today was the most challenging day yet. I was supposed to read a passage from Wuthering Heights aloud, but I'd scrambled the words on the page. I had to explain that I couldn't read it. Mike checked it, kindly announcing that the page was messed up. Mr. Mason made it seem like it was a printing error making me share Mike's book for the rest of the class. His thoughts were particularly frustrating today. She smells like oranges. Maybe I should say something. Girls like compliments.

"Hey, Bella," he whispered. I shrank back, trying to keep the unexpected panic from my eyes. "You―"

Mr. Mason tapped the board. "Something you'd like to share with the class, Mr. Newton?"

He sat back, red coloring his face. "No, just uh, asking how Bella liked the book."

"Save it for after class." Why does it have to be my class? She's too distracting.

We moved on after that, and Mike was like a kicked puppy. In fact, all the people around me sounded louder.

Can't wait for school to end already. Just want to go home and play my game.

If I was sitting next to her, I would have just slid her a note, smooth Eric.

Wish we were reading something fun. Wuthering Heights is so boring, I haven't even read it, and I'm passing.

I'm pretty sure Jenny took my shirt. Does she like me? Should I make her jealous?

All these thoughts swirled in my head, and I felt nauseous. After class, I went to the nurse, She looks sick, still have to take her temperature though. Who, even after finding I was 97.3, it took ten minutes of convincing to call my father for permission for me to go home. I just needed to rest.

The week finished uneventfully after that. Friday, I was still muddled but able to handle everyone with relative ease. The weekend was a godsend. I slept till ten and came down in time to see Charlie reading a new book with a piece of bread soaking in an egg mixture. Hope this is a nice surprise, and Bells likes this. Betty Crocker never steered mom wrong. She's gotta have my back too.

I joined him and let him fuss over flipping the french toast in the pan, he was committed to taking a day a week to at least make me breakfast. I made him a cup of coffee, and it was nice bonding with him over this. He told me he was using his mother's cookbook, an old Betty Crocker with stains and pen in the margins subbing or completely rewriting the recipes. We didn't really talk about his mom often, my Grandma Helen, he mentioned she knew the recipes so well she eventually hadn't needed the book anymore and handed it off to him.

The weekend passed too quickly. I managed to avoid phone calls with Renee. It was easy so long as I sent her an email every night before bed talking about what I'd done through the day. It felt like a school assignment. Her responses were sometimes good and sometimes not. I picked apart every word of the bad ones, ignoring that she didn't write, "I love you too," or the hanging threat of calling Charlie.

I did a lot of reading to clear my head. At least I'd finished Wuthering Heights.

Monday came in with thick clouds and air that bites. I wore my hair up today, winding a pale green scarf around my neck. Most of the other students wore varying degrees of layers loosely, making me think that I would adapt like them soon enough. People were waving and smiling at me as I walked towards English. I smiled and greeted them back, content with the pleasantries. I was the first to arrive.

Mr. Mason was pulling papers together, and his sporadic thoughts sounded throughout the room, Do I smell like popcorn? Ah, I nearly forgot I should give the kids a Pop Quiz on the characters' relationships. Make sure they're awake. I rolled my shoulder, confident that I'd be fine.

"Mr. Mason?"

"Yes, Isabella?"

I cringed but didn't correct him, "Do we have to get a copy of Macbeth ourselves, or do you loan us copies."

"I loan them," he gestured towards the back. "Done with W. Heights already? Never would have pegged you for a reader." With a flighty mother and meathead dad, I'd have expected her to think a magazine was advanced reading.

I shut down my shields hard. "My dad loves to read," whether or not it was true was beside the point. I felt anger coil in my gut. "Especially the epics."

"Really?" He tried to hide his doubt but failed.

I felt my face grow flinty. "Really."

Mr. Mason's eyes glazed over, then he blinked. "That seems right."

My heart stuttered in my chest. Oh no. I turned and rushed to the back, changing the subject. "So." My voice shook, "can I borrow this?"

I took the slim screenplay as he said it would be fine. I took my seat, trying to quell the weight of compulsion again. At least, it was harmless. I lied to myself. What was I even doing anymore? More people filled the class, and Mr. Mason seemed fine, greeting the few students who spoke to him normally. Like his world was unaffected. Was there any harm in the thought that Charlie was well-read? Suddenly my hands itched to call him and find out. Make a truth from the lie.

Eric came in first, lighting up when he saw me, and I shot him a small smile, even when he sat in the seat Mike had claimed as his own.

"Bella, how was your weekend?"

"Great," I replied, was there any other option? "I got to relax. After the big move, it was nice to not have to unpack on Sunday."

He nodded and started talking about something he overheard Mike talking to me about last week, and I treated it like a new conversation. Mike was annoyed when he came in, grumbling as he took Eric's seat. Five minutes to class, Eric asked what we were doing today.

"Pop quiz," I said. Nodding up towards Mr. Mason, who was still rifling through papers. A girl nearby turned around.

"Pop quiz?" Eric said, "how sure are you?"

"A hundred percent." I opened my pen case, "how comfortable are you with the relationships between the characters?"

Eric opened his book and started looking through it furiously. So did several others eavesdropping nearby. As soon as the bell rang, Mr. Mason called out to clear our desks for a pop quiz. I finished first, and I got more than one grateful look when class ended. I felt better using magic for good, or was it evil?

Swirling flakes of snow danced around us once we left.

Mike hurried up to my side, "What do you think, Bella? Will today be a repeat of the last snow day?"

"Give it an hour or two and maybe." I laughed, leaving him behind with an, "I'll see you at lunch."

Spanish with Jessica was interesting, Mrs. Goff thought in Spanish and English. While I still understood Latin and French, I was still beginning with Spanish. We left, and I stopped just in time to miss a slushy ball flying through the air. I pulled my binder up, using it to block multiple projectiles flying around us.

Jessica shouted at Eric and Mike with mock anger, at least until one splattered on her shoulder. Then she joined the fight while I ran ahead. Angela was waiting for us near the Cafeteria. Rather than leaving her in the crossfire, I grabbed her, dragging her along with a well-timed, "hurry!" We laughed while we escaped. Everything else was forgotten as we turned into kids in the snow. The others caught up to us, Jessica huffing, but Mike and Eric seemed closer than before.

Suddenly, I felt like I was being watched, and I turned my eyes to the table in the corner. I looked away quickly, but all five of the Cullens were there. I mean, it was reasonable. He'd been absent for six days. I wonder what he was doing at that time? Not that we were close enough to talk that way. If I'd bothered to ask in the dream, he might have answered, but not now.

I sat with the others at the table facing him. I was hyper-focused on their actions. His brother, the big one, shaking snow at his girlfriend and the pixie-like one. The one that looked tortured, smiling wildly. I hadn't picked up on their thoughts. Instead, I got their emotions, but even rather than fun and lighthearted amusement, they were aloof and rehearsed. Sure, there were some bursts of what could have been genuine happiness, it still felt practiced.

A small thought from one of them, a voice the perfect mixture of high and soft, came in like static. Like I said— she'd look this way.

I didn't notice I was staring. This was the second time there were gaps in someone's thoughts, and it was his other sister. Why? I wanted to examine it further, but I met Edwards stare head-on. Blushing at being caught, I held it for a little while longer before announcing, "I'm going to grab a soda."

"We're in the middle of a conversation," Jessica stated, affronted.

I hesitated, "Sorry, I'll be right back."

I felt multiple eyes on me as I took my time measuring my steps. I could play at "normal" too. Every fiber of my being wanted to focus on what was being said at that corner table, so I had to get up and distance myself. I didn't trust my magic since it'd proved time and time again to take my wishes very literally.

I'd apparently been there a bit before Jessica huffed over and grabbed my arm. "Bella, are you okay?" Why did I have to come get her?

"Sorry, you had to come get me. I was lost in a daydream." More like trying to figure out what to do with the growing static at my fingertips.

Better me than Mike, what is it about her? "Edward Cullen is staring at you," she whispered.

I chuckled at the thought that, much like James Bond, everyone was addicted to pairing Edward and his last name together, as if he wasn't the only Edward in our grade. I didn't know what to say to that though, "Are you sure? He could just be daydreaming, and we're in his way."

"You're probably right. The Cullens don't like anybody. Well, they don't notice anybody enough to like them." Jessica's thoughts were bitter, at least they didn't use to. "He's still looking at you."

"Then we should move." I sighed. My lunch was waiting for me. I walked back with Jessica toward the table, who giggled every time she looked over at Edward's. She was like a tell. Anytime I almost turned to look at him, she would shift too.

Around this time, the emotions began to spike, and I picked up on the other's thoughts again. Mike wanted to continue throwing snowballs. Eric wanted to know if I'd told him about the pop quiz to get closer to him. Angela wondered if she needed to grab applesauce for her brothers.

My head pounded, and finally, I gave in, turning just enough that I could hear Edward's silence without having to stare at him. I could just relax. At least until the bell rang. Angela, Mike, and I split from the group to walk to class.

I made it there before my table mate. Letting the imaginary line fill the table as I pulled out my notebook, textbook, and pen. I dated my notes, feeling like I was about to face an inquisition. I had to fight against the urge to fidget in my seat. I waited, listening to my classmates, waiting till he walked in so I could have a genuinely, hopefully, normal class. All I would have to do is ignore being glared at. Easy.

Mr. Banner distributed microscopes and a box of slides to each table. I looked them over, remembering a Lab I did in Phoenix that was similar. Even without me reading his mind, I could tell we'd be sorting through the phases of mitosis and labeling them—

I felt him enter the room. Immediate relief, like putting a burn underwater. All other feelings and voices became muted. The silence was almost hypnotic. The scrapping of his chair broke what little harmony I'd had as he takes his seat next to me. A second later, he spoke.

"Hello." His voice was different than when he'd try talking to Mrs. Cope, reserved but still full-bodied. I remembered thinking he sounded like wine, and I found that there was no other way to describe how smooth and rich his tone was.

I blinked, looking over at him. He was looking me in the eye, seemingly focused on not straying anywhere else. His eyes looked warm but wary. There was something different about them, but I was distracted by how cautious he looked. His hair was still wet, dripping onto a blue shirt that looked expensive, hair mused.

"My name is Edward Cullen. I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."

I pursed my brows, figuring that much like me, he'd heard my name on other people's lips. Still, I expected more from someone that seemed to hate me at first sight. "Nice to meet you."

Mr. Banner started the class a second later, leaving me feeling awkward and more than a bit confused. He went through an explanation of what we should be doing. We were going to be looking at Onion Root Tip Cells. He said the slides in the box were out of order, and we had to separate them into the correct phases of mitosis. We couldn't use our books, and we had twenty minutes.

"Starting…" He paused for effect, "now!"

"Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked, wearing a friendly smile.

It was my turn to be wary. I slid the microscope over to myself, grabbing a slide, and placed it under the slots. I began adjusting the microscope till it was in focus, all the while he watched. I looked through the lens for a moment, then announced, "prophase."

"Do you mind if I look?" His hand caught mine as I was about to remove the slide. I let it hang there, his hand like ice. He seemed shocked when I didn't pull away, but suddenly the static in my fingers shocked both of us, making him let go with an odd expression on his face.

"I'm―"

"Sorry," I mumbled, sliding the microscope to him, then lamely I added. "I carry a lot of static."

His expression turned serious, as if he couldn't understand what was happening. He grasped the microscope instead, and I released a breath I was holding, glad we'd moved on.

"Prophase." he agreed. I penned in my answer as he grabbed the next slide. He glanced at it through the microscope for a fraction of a second before saying, "Anaphase."

I held my hand out, "May I?"

He looked up, surprised that I'd challenge him, but slid the microscope over to me. I quickly checked, a smile tugging at my cheeks.

"Anaphase." I agreed, "Slide three?"

I held out my hand, and he dropped the next slide in my palm, careful not to touch me. I looked briefly with it under the microscope, "Interphase." I said, automatically pushing the microscope over to him.

He looked, then nodded. Both of us continued in our quiet way till we were finished, and all we had left to do was talk. I finished writing our final answer then looked at him. Looked at his eyes, finally noticing they were honey gold. I felt myself flush. It was hard not to think of the meadow. Since that dream, it'd been hard not letting my mind wander to that place, to wonder who I was with. It seemed too much of a coincidence if it was Edward, but the longer I looked, the more he filled the silhouette in my head.

"Did you get contacts?" I asked.

"No." his mouth quirked as if I was being silly.

It went away a second later as I continued, "There's something different about your eyes. I thought they were darker when we first met." He froze, then shrugged.

I was about to probe him more when Mr. Banner came up, beginning to overlook our answers. "So Edward, did you give Isabella an opportunity to look through the microscope?"

"He did," I answered while Edward continued.

"Actually, Bella identified three of the five slides." I looked at him gratefully, glad he gave me some credit even if we were both equally right.

Mr. Banner turned his attention to me, and I could feel his skepticism as I dropped my focus from Edward.

"I've done a lab like this before, but with whitefish blastula."

The surprise wasn't unusual, as Mr. Banner nodded thoughtfully, "Were you in an advanced program in Phoenix?"

"Yes." I felt embarrassed.

Pursing his lips, Mr. Banner said, "Well, It's a good thing you're lab partners." He turned to walk away, his thoughts bleeding into mine, So the other kids can get a chance to learn something for themselves.

I froze, watching him leave. Edward must've noticed.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"Nothing!" I said a little too quickly, not that he needed to know what other people thought. It was hard to remain optimistic when I could hear and feel what others couldn't. Harder when I realized that I couldn't blame people for their ugly thoughts. It wasn't as if they acted on them. Instead, I refocused on Edwards' quiet and took a slow breath. I was prepared to go through the rest of class in companionable silence when he shocked me by speaking again.

"So, you like the snow?"

"I do." He was trying for small talk, or maybe he was trying to get to know me. I wondered briefly if there was a reason.

"I heard you came from Arizona?"

"Did you think I wouldn't like the cold?"

"Something like that."

"What did you think I would say?"

"I thought you would say you'd only seen snow on T.V."

"You're not wrong." I chuckled. "I wanted a change of pace."

"And Forks was that?"

"It was an opportunity." I said, then remembering how we talked in his dream, I felt like continuing, "it's complicated."

"I'm sure I can keep up." he insisted, wanting to know more.

I took a moment. I wondered what it would be like and what it would feel like to tell someone else all the things I could do. It would be so easy. It would also scare him off. I only allowed it because his eyes were just like the ones from my vision. The feel of the sun and the smell of lilacs filled the room. One kid in the back sneezed and whispered something about allergies. Even Edward tilted his head and looked around before settling his eyes back on me.

I cleared my throat, slightly mortified for allowing my daydreams to interfere. "My mother got remarried," I said finally.

He shifted, like that made sense. "When did that happen?"

"September."

"Do you like him, or?"

"Phil is fine, he's―" He's Phil, it was hard to describe. Young, nice, easy. "He's what my mother wants."

"Then why didn't you stay with them?"

This is where it gets complicated, "He has to travel for work. He was a coach, but he just got scouted into minor league baseball. Jacksonville, Florida."

"So you were sent up here so they could travel together."

"No," I hesitated. "I was given a choice."

"It seems like it was an ultimatum."

I bristled, "I came up here because it felt right."

"Sorry," he said quickly, "I'm making assumptions. I'm not questioning your decisions."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and the scent left the room. I'd only been viewing him as a quiet space, and now I wished I could look into his mind or feel him. After a second, I added, "I wanted to come. I wanted them to have a proper honeymoon, besides— my dad has always been up here alone. It didn't feel right especially―" after never visiting after I was 12. I sighed, "I wanted to spend time with him."

"It just looks like it was hard."

"Sometimes the right things are hard to do," I said.

He stiffened, then smiled, "I believe I've heard something like that before."

I shrugged, I was playing with fire, but it was too close to our previous conversation. changing topics, I began again, "luckily, I don't mind it up here."

He had a slight furrow between his brow like he was trying to figure me out. "So you do like it?"

"It's different than I imagined. Louder too." I said the last part without thinking, quickly continuing to hide my blunder. "I didn't know I would be as happy as I am up here."

"And you are? Happy?"

"Given the alternative, yes." I fidgeted with my pen. It felt like I needed to find something for my fingers to do.

"You didn't come here for anything else?" he asked suddenly.

Was my excuse not good enough? "What else would I come up here for?" I challenged, and there was my mistake. If I had been nonchalant, maybe he would have shrugged my story off. Instead, his mouth twitched like he'd expected this. Annoyance flared inside me. Was he trying to play me?

"I think there's more to your story." He took in my expression, which was probably an open book. "You put on a good show. I'm willing to bet that you're hiding something that you don't want anyone to see."

I was quiet. All manner of retorts I had were unkind, to say the least. The rational part of my head said I'd be sitting next to him for the remainder of the semester. The other part said, how dare you.

"Am I wrong?" Flinching, I narrowed my eyes. He continued with a smile. "I didn't think so."

The tension in my gut coiled tighter, and I felt the familiar stirrings of pressure and air from when my magic took control. I breathed through my nose. "Is my life really that interesting to you?"

"I don't know. That's a very good question." He shrugged as if it was nothing, but he looked like he was just as confused as I was.

The bubble was still there, waiting to pop, and I swallowed, thinking that would resolve it. I looked at the whiteboard, the tables, focused on Angela's chatter with a partner, too timid to push her thoughts on the slide but wanting to get the better grade, so she kept insisting that the slide was anaphase. A pencil dropping to the floor two rows over―

"Am I annoying you?"

"I'm more annoyed with myself. I need to control myself better." I struggled to say it wondering where I could direct my magic. It'd be easier if he didn't affect me so much. He was just doing what others had tried to do since I moved, but he was doing it in a way that dug too close to the real reasons why I came, and I wasn't that good of a liar.

"I think you are actually completely in control of this conversation." He said. "And you're hard to understand."

I let out a hollow laugh, "Usually, it's the opposite. My mother said I'm too easy."

Finally, I looked at the plants by the window, the bubble popped, and the pots of donkey tails grew larger and longer, struggling for space across climbing spider plants and palms. The fact that no one seemed to notice was a marvel. Everyone else focused on the labs. My hands shook, and I hid them under the table.

"Are you okay?"

"Peachy." I lied. If I react like this every time we talk, then we'd be in a jungle. Of course, that's assuming no one would notice me being the cause of it.

"I just can't get a read on you." He said. I almost smiled at him, sharing the same thought myself.

"I think you're probably too used to reading people. You probably know a lot more than you let on." If he questions everyone in such detail, what else does he know in a tiny town like this?

He cleared his throat, adding, "Usually." Then he smiled, and it was blinding, straight white teeth and crinkled eyes. Golden eyes, like the meadow. I hoped I didn't sit there with my mouth open as I became increasingly confused and curious. Mr. Banner called everyone to attention then.

I felt hot sitting next to him. I became entirely too aware of him next to me. Even as he turned to the window in apparent boredom, I didn't miss the peculiar look he gave the plants, but he just shook his head and probably continued whatever thought he'd had.

The lecture went on, and I debated talking to him some more. After being given some time to process, I realized that while his questions were invasive, they were genuine and fuelled by curiosity. It wasn't a bad conversation, I'd just overreacted, and I actually didn't mind the challenge.

When the bell rang, before I could say goodbye, he'd gathered his things and swiftly left the room. The chatter from before began to refill my mind, and I took a breath to smother out the feeling. I'd have to get used to how jarring it was when he left like that then. Like he was running from something. For someone who thought I was harboring secrets, he had some of his own too. I gathered my things, wondering how I'd level the playing field next time.

Mike was waiting for me outside the door and fell into step with me like he had all week. "That was awful. They all looked the same. You're lucky you had Cullen for a partner."

I raised a brow at him, "I'll let you know that I knew what I was doing."

Mike looked away quickly and began talking about other things. It wasn't until we were outside the locker rooms where we typically left each other that he spoke his mind. "Sorry―Anyway, Cullen seemed more talkative today."

"I couldn't tell? I never really had an opportunity before." Aside from the dream, putting together both conversations actually led to more questions than answers.

I've never seen him say a word to anyone else. Why Bella? I don't like the way he looks at her. She doesn't seem too into him though, wouldn't she be asking about him if she was interested. It couldn't have been that much of a conversation then. He finished the thought, pleased, "Yeah, guess it doesn't really matter then."

"Yeah," I raised my hand lamely, "see you in class."

P.E. was more animated than usual. Mike kept attempting to chivalrously get between the ball and me. He managed to do most of his position as well as my own. It would have been impressive if I hadn't been trying to participate myself. Coach Clapp just shook his head, his thoughts, What in the hell is Newton doing? gave me more perspective to how others might view him, and as kindly as I could, I thanked him so he could return to his position.

Once class was over, I didn't wait to leave. Walking out to the parking lot covered in wet grey slush, a small flurry was starting again as the weather couldn't make up its mind. Inside my truck, I let the heater run, setting my things to the side while I waited till someone was kind enough to let me back out in my behemoth of a truck.

Keeping a cautious eye on the road and any sliding cars, I saw Edward Cullen, staring intently as he leaned beside his Volvo. I would have stared at him, maybe if I could. Instead, I was forced to break after the car in front of me hit a hard stop. I looked forward, seeing a sea of brake lights, then turned to look back at Edward, who seemed to be amused by whatever idea he'd had in the meantime. He must have shaken the thought from his head, and with a parting look, got into his Volvo.