Chapter 3: Accidents

"You seem on edge today. Again."

The words spill from my mouth as Bella pulls into the school's parking lot, unable to handle the tense silence that has been sitting between us for the past few mornings. Bella's lip worries between her teeth as she puts the car into park, and she shrugs carelessly. "I'm fine, Sophie," she assures weakly. "Just getting used to everything, is all."

I'm hardly a pro when it comes to lying, but I can tell immediately that my sister isn't telling me the truth. The only thing I can't be quite certain of is why- is there something she doesn't want to say, or is there something she doesn't want to say to me?

"Are…I mean, people are being nice to you, right?" I ask softly. "Because you can tell me if they aren't."

Bella lets out a humored breath, and she looks down at the steering wheel. "You planning on beating someone up if I say yes?"

"So is that a yes? Someone's being mean to you?"

She shakes her head, stills for a moment, and shakes it more fiercely than before. "No. Just….this weird guy from my class. No one's being mean," she tells me, putting intentional inflection on the last word as if to point out that we're no longer in middle school, and using 'mean' to describe people is something a child would say. I cough and clear my throat, and jokingly, I crack my fingers and move my arms in a stretching movement. "I'll beat him up, Bells, just give me a name."

She looks at me with a raised brow and a smile, and she shakes her head again. "Yeah, okay, Mike Tyson. What're you gonna do, kick the hell out of a guy just for being rude?"

"Duh, I'll literally kick his ass. I can take him, I bet. I do play defense."

"I'm anti-violence."

"Since when?"

"Since now."

We both look at each other, wearing matching grins despite all the other differences in our respective appearances. She looks more like our dad, I think to myself. I'd always been told I look more like-

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and as soon as I see the contact name and two of the messages below, my grin morphs into a look of confusion.

From: Jake

Any chance you and Bella wanna hangout this week?

From: Jake

Btw, Dad wants to know if you remember the Clearwaters?

The Clearwaters? I can only assume he's referring to Dad's friend, Harry, and promptly text him a question mark in reply. Of course I know Harry- we've only been getting leftovers from his annual fish fry's for the last few years, and he, Dad, and Billy have been coming over to our house every other Sunday for football watch-a-thons longer than I've been alive.

From: Jake

Dad wants to know if Harry's kid can hang with us

His sister's being a total nightmare, he's your age I think

It's a strange request, and I try to search my brain for something familiar about the boy Jake's talking about. Harry's son…Harry's son, I repeat inwardly, trying to remember. I draw up nothing but blanks.

To: Jake

Sure

I'll ask Bella and let you know :P

"Who's that?"

Bella's voice breaks the quiet, and I glance over at her. "Jake, he wants to know if we can all hang out this week sometime," I tell her, showing her the text. She doesn't really read it but her eyes scan over the screen, and she nods. "Yeah. That sounds nice."

"Cool. And just, like, out of curiosity…do you remember Harry's kids?"

She purses her lips in thought, and she shakes her head. "I think I remember there being a boy and a girl, but that's about it."

"Yeah, same here. Apparently, there's some drama with Harry's daughter, so Jake asked if his son could tag along."

"Sounds good. You don't really know them?"

"I don't think so. I mean, the only time I really get to see Jake is on the weekdays, anyway. I usually have games on Saturdays."

"Good to know. So I can, uh, go to one of them."

A smile twists at my mouth in delight at the assurance, and I beam to myself inwardly at her memory. I hadn't mentioned it in the past few days, not only because of her sour morning-moods, but because of my own hesitations about her coming. I didn't want to push too hard, knowing she's not a 'sports-person' and all, but I'd secretly hoped she'd remembered.

Something warm blooms in my chest at the fact that my hopes had come true.

I fiddle with my phone if only to have something to do, and flip it open to text Jake back.

To: Jake

Bella's down. More deets later. Can't wait! :)

The next few days go by just as the previous ones have, and it's hard to keep a smile off of my face when I'm feeling this good.

I must've been right when I told Dad how perfectly things would go – because things are going perfectly. My car rides with Bella are no longer filled with that weird, tense silence, but instead replaced by aimless chatter and my persistent meddling. Dad's been in a good mood, too, maybe even a better mood than I've ever seen him now that Bella's starting to settle in.

Maybe even more importantly, I can tell my performance on the pitch has gotten even better since my conversation with Coach the other day. I can tell that cutting back on sweets…and cutting back in general, really…has made me a lot quicker on my feet, even in such a short amount of time. Coach looks at me with something like approval, I think, as I dart around the field with the ball under my feet and sweat pooling at the nape of my neck.

I think you can bring this team to where it needs to be. I think you can bring us all the way to States.

It's the most amount of belief I can remember anyone ever having in me, and it's real- Coach knows soccer better than the back of his own hand, so I know he's not just offering me a lame compliment because he thinks I'm just some dumb kid, or the Chief's daughter. It means something to know that I was brought onto Varsity with such high expectations – it means even more to know that he's willing to push me to be even better than I thought I could be.

If I had any doubts that I belonged on Varsity, most of them disappeared after we had our meeting- Coach gave me the wakeup call I clearly needed. I can tell my speed is catching up to where he says it was last year, and I tell myself I can be even faster if I keep working hard. The past few nights I've started dreaming of running a five-minute-mile - an idea that was once so unrealistic now feels like something tangible.

I know raw talent when I see it.

Coach hasn't called me into his office since the last time, and I've taken to running home from practice instead of walking or getting a lift. The weight of my soccer bag only adds to the workout, and by the time I get back to my house, my head feels light and fuzzy from the adrenaline.

I clamor up the stairs, my bag bouncing up and down against my side as I open the front door. "Home!" I call out breathlessly, glancing around to see Bella in the kitchen and Dad in front of the living room TV. My lungs constrict as I drop my bag down on the floor, and I immediately whip out my phone to check the time.

Twenty minutes. The added weight probably slowed me down, too. I think tomorrow I can get here in fifteen.

"How was practice?" Dad calls out over the sofa, arm stretched over a throw pillow. I nod my head, trying to bring my breathing back to normal as I wander over to the kitchen sink. I immediately grab a glass and turn on the faucet, filling it to the very top with cold water and swallowing it down in two large gulps.

"Good," I finally respond.

Bella greets me with a small smile and opens the oven, and my senses are overridden with the aroma of meat and cheese and food. "I made dinner," she says to me, poking at a tin-foil-covered casserole dish on the upper rack. "Dad told me you liked enchiladas."

My mouth waters as I see a long cheese-pull attached to the foil, and I nod my head. "I love enchiladas," I nearly moan. "Smells so good, Bella, wow. I can't even remember the last time somebody used the oven in this place."

"You don't cook?"

My cheeks redden a little at the implication, and I refill my water glass. "Dad doesn't really know how…and I, uh, don't really have anyone to teach me, y'know?"

Bella nods a little shamefacedly, and she closes the oven door. "Well…I'm not a chef, or anything….but I could always teach you some things around the kitchen, if you're curious."

My eyes light up at the suggestion, and I immediately nod my head. "Uh, are you kidding? I'm so down!" I say excitedly. "Who knows, maybe the student will surpass the teacher, one day."

Dad lets out a coughed laugh somewhere a few feet away. "Don't be too hopeful, Bells. Sophie can barely handle making a scrambled egg."

"That was one time, Dad."

"And one call to the fire department I didn't think we'd need to make."

"Well, I promise I'm a very different person than the one I was back then."

"This happened six months ago."

"...And it led me to grow as a person! Don't listen to a word he says, Bella. Us young people have to stick together in the battle against the elderly."

Dad lets out a startled noise, and my sister and I both smile at each other. "Sorry, Dad," Bella tells him, offering me a secretive smirk. "You're gonna have to live with being outnumbered from now on."

From now on.

The grin on my face spreads even wider, and I can feel the corners of my mouth splitting as the timer on the oven goes off. Bella pulls on a pair of oven mitts I didn't even know we had, and she pulls the casserole dish out and onto the kitchen counter.

Half an hour later, I'm using my fork to twist the leftover tendrils of cheese on my plate into my mouth like an animal, my eyes closed in appreciation as each taste of salty, cheesy goodness bursts on my taste buds. All of Coach's advice had flown out the window two servings ago, and if I was a little more selfish, I'd ask for a fourth.

Bella looks at my plate in astonishment, and Dad merely chuckles. "I'd say this was great, Bells, but I think all the noises Sophie's making speak for the both of us."

"So good," I tell her gratefully, already feeling disappointed that between the three of us, the enchiladas are nearly gone - she and Dad had barely finished their second helping by the time I'd shoveled a third onto my plate. "You're, like, my new favorite person."

She bats off the praise. "Almost everything I made came in a box or a can, you know."

"And? It's still delicious. I'd eat this every day if I could."

Her cheeks pinken, and she moves the casserole dish over to Dad and me. "You guys can have the last of it, if you want. I'm pretty full."

Dad shakes his head and lets out a winded breath. "I don't think I have any room left in me. Sophie, you want the rest? Since your shoveling it down like you haven't eaten in days?"

"Because I haven't," I blurt out unthinkingly, already greedily reaching over for the spatula before my words catch up with me. Dad narrows his eyes at me in bafflement, and I let out a startled laugh. Stupid, I chide myself internally. Stupid, stupid, stupid, why would you say that?

"I just mean I feel like I haven't, obviously," I continue. "Soccer practice makes me feel hungry enough to eat a horse."

"Haven't you and the girls on the team been getting pizza and stuff after practice?"

"Yeah, but you know, athletes. All that running around messes up your whole appetite."

I can't tell if it's a convincing enough explanation, but I reach for the spatula anyway and give myself a heaping portion of enchiladas. Lying is not only, decidedly, not my forte, but it's something I've never really tried to do – Dad being the Chief of Police hardly gives me enough opportunity to get away with little fibs, not that I've had much to hide from him, anyway.

"When are we gonna get a chance to see you play, Soph? Regionals are coming up, aren't they?" Dad asks me. Despite my mouthful of tortilla and cheese, I nod my head.

"End of next month," I choke out. "Coach says we might even make it to Nationals, maybe, if I work really hard."

"Well, good. Work hard, as long as that means you're still having fun."

He says it pointedly, an unsubtle reminder of a conversation we've already had far too many times before. "Soccer is an afterschool activity," he's said for years on repeat, usually after a failed exam or two. "It's meant to be something to keep you busy. This isn't supposed to swallow up your whole life, do you hear me?"

I don't tell him he's wrong, but he is- soccer's not all fun and games, but he's never even played a sport besides intramural football in high school, so I've always known he wouldn't completely understand. "Loud and clear, Dad," I've replied tonelessly countless times, knowing that no matter what he says, I know what soccer means to me.

"Always," I say cheerfully. "So Bella, any updates on that weird guy?"

As intended, the immediate distraction forces Dad's eyebrows to raise in curiosity as he looks at his other daughter. "What weird guy?"

"A weird guy from her class. Is he still being weird?"

Bella shrugs it off, looking a little miffed at my careful redirection. "He's just some guy, Dad...Edward. And he's…fine. We're partners in lab, he was nice enough, I guess."

"Edward. Still weird, though?"

She lets out a chuckle, and for some reason, I get the idea that there's a lot more to that than I understand.

"Yeah…still weird."

While I went to sleep soundly with a full stomach the night before, the next day, I realize I feel like I'm definitely paying the price.

My stomach feels like I've eaten a brick as I run around the field- there's no practice today, at least, not formally. But Coach had called me in during my lunch to ask if I'd have time to run a few drills after school, and I would've been an idiot to say no.

I feel like an even bigger idiot as I sluggishly run around the field, the enchiladas from a whole day ago sitting at the base of my stomach like my body is filled with wet cement. I can tell Coach Warren is frustrated with me, his frequent sighs of disappointment and whistle-blowing enough of an indicator if his expression wasn't obvious.

He blows a final whistle, and crooks a finger at me. My head collapses forward until my eyes are met with the grass below my feet, feelings of defeat tugging at the back of my head.

"Not your best work, Swan, not by a longshot."

He's right, of course- even I know that. But still, it sucks to hear.

"I'm sorry, Coach."

"Have you been following my instructions?"

"About dessert?"

"Among other things."

"Yes, Coach. I swear," I promise him. "Yesterday…my sister made enchiladas, and I didn't think we'd have practice today-"

He puts up a silencing hand, just like he did during our last meeting. He looks at me from under the sunglasses he doesn't need to wear in the cloudy weather, and he narrows his eyes. "Uh-huh," he says shortly. "That doesn't really sound like you got the message, I take it."

"What?"

"If you're not serious about your performance, Sophie, then fine," he says calmly. "I mean, I thought you had what it takes to go all the way in this sport, but if you want to play like your average, then I'm not gonna keep wasting my time," he explains, shaking his head in dismay.

"N-No, Coach, I am serious," I assure him. "I am. I do have what it takes, and I have been listening. I'll be better about it."

"I don't want to hear promises, Swan. I want to see the improvement with my own two eyes."

His words sink like a punch to the chest, and it's all I can do to keep my eyes from watering in self-pity. "I'll prove it," I say, forcing the words from my throat. "I will. You weren't wrong about me. It means...it means so much, being on this team. I'll push myself even harder."

Coach must hear some conviction in my voice because, after another minute of assessment, he smiles slightly and puts a hand on my shoulder. His thumb brushes across my bicep- almost paternally, I think. "Don't keep me waiting, kiddo. And a note for the future, athletes are always prepared. Treat every day like its game day. No more excuses about when you think you have practice, and when you don't."

I nod my head, trying not to recoil from his hand as he pinches my cheek. "Get outta here. Remember, starting tomorrow, I need your head to be screwed fully on."

"Of course, Coach. I swear."

I run off the field, bag in tow as I try to quell my quaking nerves. I feel weird, not about anything in particular, but in general- like my skin is too tight and I haven't showered in days, even though neither of those things are true. I head out to the parking lot with my headphones in, swiping at my forehead, when something cold grabs my hand.

I immediately pull my hand sharply away from whatever's grasped onto it, whipping my hand close to my chest in alarm as my heart beats too fast for my liking. What the hell?!

A girl I only vaguely recognize looks up at me, her eyes blazing gold as the pour into my own. She's short, or at least, shorter than me, and her dark, inky pixie-cut seems a little familiar. I must've seen her around a few times, and I only register in that moment that the cold thing that had grabbed onto my hand was her own.

"Sophie?" the girl asks, her voice high like the chiming of tiny bells. "Bella's sister?"

The mention of Bella makes me blink a few times, and I swipe at my forehead again. "Do I…do I-?"

"We don't know each other," she interrupts. "But your sister just got taken to the hospital a few minutes ago... there was an accident. I'll give you a ride, c'mon."

I blink again, my mind refusing to cooperate as the girl skips off into the passenger seat of a silver Jeep far nicer than I've seen any other high schooler own. Your sister. Hospital. Ride, I repeat in a looped thought, walking slowly over to the car. What? What's happening?

"Come on, Sophie. Buckle up," she says again. For some odd reason, I do exactly as she says and the exact opposite of what Dad has always told me about hopping into cars with strangers – albeit, I'm sure he didn't picture a tiny high school girl as the type of person who'd persuade me to hop in.

I get in the Jeep and notice a blond guy in the driver's seat – he doesn't turn around to look at me, but any apprehension I feel miraculously drains from my body as I fasten my seatbelt. He backs out of the parking space without any regard for speed limits as soon as my belt clicks into its hold, and we zoom away from Forks High like someone's lit a fire under the blonde dude's ass.

"I…I don't…is she okay?" I ask anyone at all, not directing it to either of the car's occupants specifically. "My sister, is she okay?"

Neither of them says anything for a moment, and my mind immediately fills with images of the worst possible scenarios. An accident, the girl said…a car accident? A car crash?!

Was she kidnapped?

Am I being kidnapped?

Yet again, somehow my body floods with the feeling of pure calm I know doesn't match up with my internal panic. Everything in my head is telling me I should be crying, that I should feel the urge to cry, and yet… I don't do anything. My tears stay firmly in my eyeballs, and in something like disbelief, I wipe at my face just to double-check.

"She's going to be alright," the girl tells me finally, turning around in the passenger seat to lay a gentle hand on my bare knee. I immediately move my leg out of the way after the brisk touch, and she smoothly pulls her hand back. "She's at Forks Hospital, and she's definitely receiving the best care she could ask for."

"What kind of care? H-How do you know it's the best?"

"My father's the Chief doctor," she assures, turning to me again with wide, trusting eyes. "I know you're worried, Sophie, but I have a feeling she'll be completely okay."

Okay, but that's not really a guarantee, though, is it? I want to ask her. What even happened?

"How do you know my name?" I ask instead, my brain lagging behind. "You…you said we don't know each other."

"Your sister mentioned it before she left in the ambulance," the blonde speaks for the first time, his voice heavy with an accent I can't quite place.

Oh. That makes sense, I guess.

Just as I begin to realize how incredibly strange it is to be sitting in a speeding vehicle with two total strangers, the girl turns around again. "My name's Alice, by the way. And this is Jasper."

I swallow roughly in some halfhearted attempt to digest this information in addition to all the rest, and nod.

No one speaks until we pull up to the hospital, and with a barely uttered thank you, I hop out of the Jeep and sprint my way into the waiting area of the Emergency Unit.

"Bella, Jesus Christ."

I slam my way through the doors of the patient entrance, my bag nearly caught in the door handle until I wrestle my way out from under it. The calm that washed over me on the ride here is completely gone, and in its place are unshakeable nerves that fill me from head to toe. I see her dark brown hair and my Dad right next to the hospital bed, and at the sight of her upright state, I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding.

She's sitting up. She's okay.

"Bella," I say again. "What the hell happened?!"

My sister turns to me in surprise, and my arms outstretch towards her before they fall limply to my sides- I'm not sure how hurt she is, if I'm able to give her a hug at all, if I even should since I'm not sure she'd want me to. My eyes quickly scan over her for any sign of harm and seeing none, I only grow more confused.

"I'm fine," Bella says quickly, almost a little annoyed as if she's had to say the exact same thing a dozen times before. For all I know, maybe she has.

For the first time since I've burst my way in, I notice the astonishingly handsome blonde man with a stethoscope in front of them, and my eyes widen. Shouldn't there be a doctor here? Why is a male model in the ER with my sister?

"Charlie, is this your youngest?" he asks Dad warmly, giving me a kind smile.

"Sophie, this is Dr. Cullen-"

Doctor.

"Doctor?!" I exclaim despite myself. "You..." I stammer, trying to find something to say. "You're, like, really young."

Dad clears his throat sharply, and he gives me a warning look. "Sophie," he says cautiously. "Sorry, Dr. Cullen. I'd say my daughter isn't usually this…to-the-point…but that'd be a lie, unfortunately."

Dr. Cullen merely smiles and waves it off. "It's been a stressful afternoon for all three of you, I imagine," he says nonchalantly. "As I was saying, Bella, you might experience some post-traumatic stress or disorientation, but your vitals look good. No signs of any head trauma. I think you'll be just fine."

"Trauma," I say aimlessly. "What trauma, exactly? What happened?"

No one answers me, but Bella looks up at the doctor with a strange look on her face. "You know, it would've been a whole lot worse if Edward wasn't there. He knocked me out of the way."

"Edward…your boy?" Dad asks the doctor.

My eyes widen even further, and I have no idea what to do with all these fragments of a larger picture I don't currently have. I recognize the name, but nothing else makes sense. "Edward, as in the weird guy from your class?!"

This time, both Bella and Dad are the ones to shoot me warning glances. Dad tilts his head towards the doctor too obviously for me to ignore. I whisper a series of halfhearted defenses, not sure exactly why I'm having to defend myself in the first place- Bella was the one who said he was weird, not me.

"Yeah, it was amazing," Bella says to the blonde man. "I mean, he got to me so fast. He was nowhere near me."

He smiles at her patiently. "Sounds like you were very lucky. Charlie, if anything changes, feel free to give me a call directly. You have my number."

The doctor walks away, shooting a humored smile back at me over his shoulder as he makes his exit. Dad, Bella, and I are left in silence.

"Is anyone gonna tell me what happened?" I push fervently.

Bella opens her mouth, shuts it, and opens it again. "How'd you even get here, Sophie?"

I roll my eyes, not understanding why neither of my family members wants to answer my question. "Two total randos gave me a ride. Alice and…Justin, I think, I don't even remember. My head was in a million places."

Bella looks at me oddly. "Jasper?"

Jasper. Right. "Yeah, that's it. I sprinted in here as soon as we pulled in, I have no idea where they went. Or why they gave me a ride, since as I said, they were randos."

"They're Edward's siblings," she explains, her eyes flickering side to side contemplatively.

"Okay...did he get hurt too, or something?" I demand. "What does Edward have to do with anything? What actually happened?"

Bella looks down at the white tile floor, refusing to meet my eyes. "I don't know," she admits honestly. "I really don't."

As we leave the hospital wing, Dad mentions offhandedly that he needs to sign some paperwork, and my sister and I stand out in the hallway.

"I just..." I try again, softening my tone. "You're okay, right? I know what the doctor said…but you're not hurt?"

"Not hurt," Bella says.

We walk down the corridor when she puts a hand on my elbow, forcing me to stop in my place. A flurry of whispers I can't make out echoes somewhere a few feet from us, and she puts a finger over her mouth in a motion to silence me.

"What was I supposed to do, then? Let her die?"

"This isn't just about you. It's about all of us."

Bella peaks out from behind the wall, and as I try to crane my neck over her shoulder, she quickly shoves me backward.

"I think we should take this to my office."

Shuffling uncomfortably, Bella creeps out of hiding and turns to whomever the whispering parties are, and I finally peek out from behind her. Dr. Cullen, a blonde woman, and a bronze-haired man are huddled together closely, watching us right back.

"C-Can I talk to you for a minute?" Bella asks out loud, although to whom I'm unsure. Dr. Cullen tugs at the blonde woman, who glares at the two of us until her back is forced to turn. The other man walks grimly over to my sister, and I try desperately to fit the pieces of this situation together. Is this Edward?

He's pretty handsome for a guy I was told was a total weirdo. Aren't weird people supposed to, I dunno, wear black trench coats and guyliner, or whatever? I think oddly. What's so weird about a hot boy?

The man raises an amused brow at me, and Bella seems to remember that I'm inches away from her back. She lightly shoves at me again, and I blurt out a confused puff of air. "Go," she says anxiously between clenched teeth.

"What?" I whisper harshly. "I'm not…who even is this guy?"

"Sophie, go. Help Dad with the paperwork."

"Yeah, no. Maybe after you tell me-"

"-Sophie."

Childishly, I fight the urge to stomp my foot in frustration at all these non-answers. But seeing as Bella wouldn't talk when she, Dad, and I were alone, I know for sure she won't talk to me with this random guy in front of her. "Fine," I bite out in annoyance. "Come get me if you want me to kick the shit out of him, or whatever."

It's become something of a routine, I think, standing outside Bella's bedroom at night with the hopes that we can talk. This time, however, I have very specific questions I want to ask, and answers I feel I'm duly owed.

I barely knock before I barrel my way inside, uncaring of whatever she's doing or if she's too busy. "You never said," I blabber in a rush, pacing back and forth on my former carpet. "...What happened. So because you scared me half to death today, and it's not fair that no one's telling me anything, I think you should tell me. Like, now."

Bella looks up from her book with a raised eyebrow, and she slowly closes it and places it beside her. "A car nearly slammed into me," she says simply.

The casual tone to her voice catches me off guard, and as I take a moment to digest her words, I stand still and stammer. "Wha...H-How?"

"It skidded on ice, I guess."

"O...kay," I say, befuddled as to why she couldn't have said this before. "That's...it?"

"It's not that dramatic. Did you want a whole plot?"

"That's not what I meant. I'm just confused because it feels like there was, like, a whole big secret about this."

She shakes her head, but her eyes trail down to her bedspread. "Edward knocked me out of the way," she continues, her voice too stiff in its explanation for it to be totally transparent. "But everything's fine. It wasn't a huge deal."

I look at her for another minute and breathe a sigh of relief, taking her admission at face value. It doesn't feel like the total truth, but what do I know? It certainly doesn't seem like the sort of thing that'd be the secret I thought it would be. "Well…" I trail off, a little embarrassed at my panic-filled approach. "I'm glad you're okay, Bella. And that was quick thinking, by the way. Making sure somebody told me before I found out, I would've had a full-on panic attack, I think."

Bella blinks, and then quickly, she straightens up in her reclined position. "What do you mean?"

Was the doctor wrong? Maybe she has a concussion.

"The people who gave me the ride to the hospital? They said you mentioned my name. That's how they knew who I was, since you must've told someone to make sure I knew about the accident."

She blinks again, and she shakes her head. "I-I didn't mention your name," she tells me. "I didn't say anything about you. Not at all."

I'm sensitive enough to admit the comment stings a little bit, although I know she doesn't intend for it to be an insult. "Well, you must've. Because Edward's siblings or whoever they are knew what I looked like, and they knew my name…so…."

"But I…I didn't."

Her eyes flicker again in that familiar contemplative look I've begun to recognize, and I wave it off. "Or maybe they just knew somehow. Small town, soccer, Chief's kids, who knows?"

"Yeah. That must be it."

I turn to leave, only feeling half-satisfied with the answers I've gotten before Bella calls out to me.

"Soph…Sophie," she asks.

I turn around, and she fiddles with her fingers as I glance back. "Thanks," she says. "For being worried. For coming. I was fine, but...I'm glad you were there."

I smile tiredly, and roll my eyes. "I thought I told you big sisters aren't supposed to thank little sisters as much as you do."

"I know. But thanks, anyway. It's nice…it's nice to know that you'd do that for me."

Of course I would, I think. Wouldn't you do that for me?

I don't ask her this, nor do I intend to. "We're sisters," I say instead. "This is what we do for each other."

"I guess we do. Night, Soph."

"Night, Bells."

A/N: Next two chapters are up! Please leave a review if you have any thoughts- don't worry, next chapter we get our first introduction to Seth and Sophie! xoxo