"¡Hola classe! Entreguen los deberes, y después empezaremos la lección de hoy," Señorita Carmen says as she walks into the class.

Emmett's stomach sinks. He wonders if he heard that right because he doesn't remember them having a homework assignment due.

He spent all last night at a kegger at one of his friends' houses up in Ravenna and almost slept past his last alarm for class, so he didn't have time to check their class message board this morning.

"Oh, shit," he says under his breath to himself as he remembers it. They were supposed to translate two dozen phrases from English into Spanish.

Obviously, he didn't do it.

His grade in the class is a C- at best. His athletic scholarship is at stake. He needs this grade.

If he has to ask Carlisle for even more money, he's screwed.

He looks over to his left at Edward. He's in the process of grabbing his copy of the homework out of his backpack.

"Psst!" Emmett whispers. "Can I see your answers for fifteen through twenty-four?"

Edward gives him a dirty look, glancing between his homework and Emmett protectively.

"Yo, man, don't be like that. I'll owe you one. Be cool."

Edward scowls but discreetly slides his paper over. "Don't copy it word-for-word."

"Gracias."

Quickly scrawling down answers, he gets through number twenty-two before he has to pass his sheet up. Emmett stacks it on top of Edward's assignment and hands it to the girl sitting in front of him.

"Psssst! Hey, are you going to the game Sunday?" Emmett whispers at his seat neighbor again, this time more forcefully. "I'm benched, so you can't see me play, but you should come. Even though it's going to suck without me."

Edward looks disinterested, "No, I'm not going. I have other plans."

"You never have plans," Emmett protests. "If you're talking about your podcast, that doesn't count."

"No, I have a date," the redhead hisses under his breath.

"You have a date?!" the taller of the two says a little too loudly. The other students around them look over curiously.

Señorita Carmen looks at him disapprovingly. "Silencio, por favor, Emmett."

The professor goes on to discuss a reading they had—Don Quixote—that Emmett read half of before he got bored and went out to get pizza with his football teammates.

Surely there was a movie adaptation or something he could watch later.

As soon as they're dismissed, Emmett grabs up his backpack and crutches and hobbles his way out of the door following Edward. "Who's your date with?"

"You don't know her. She just moved here from Forks," Edward answers, shoots him another unpleasant side-glance.

"A freshman?"

"Yeah."

"Nice! Congrats, buddy. Also, I can't make my rent this month. On a scale of one to ten, how disappointed in me do you think Esme is going to be?"

"What do you mean you can't make your rent?"

"Lifeguards aren't in as high of demand now that summer's over. Also, if you haven't noticed, I can't swim like this." He motions at his broken leg. "Diego already floated me a couple thousand to get me through last month."

"For what?" Edward asks incredulously.

"I might have lost a bet and had to buy two rounds of shots for everyone in the bar on a busy Saturday night. It's not important, but me having a home is. Try to butter them up before I drop the news."

His friend sighs in reluctance, "When are you telling them?"

"Alice texted me that we're having a dinner party or something, so I was just going to announce it in the middle. They can't get too mad if there's a large group of people around."

"Yes, they can. That sounds like an awful idea."

"Whatever," Emmett dismisses. "Last weekend's podcast was hilarious, by the way. When you ranted for ten minutes about consumerism and then played Material Girl by Madonna? Amazing. And the Dolly Parton bit had me dying!"

"I'm glad you find my misery entertaining."

"You know I always do," Emmett laughs. "Hey, can you slow down a little, I can't keep up with your fast-walking on these crutches."

Edward looks irritated but slows to a normal pace. It's like he thinks walking quicker than everyone else is a personality trait.

"So my question is why don't you ever play Celine Dion?" Emmett asks. "She's a legend and she'd fit right in with the rest of the music you play."

Edward wrinkles his nose in disgust. "You want me to play Celine Dion?"

"Yes, 'The Power of Love', specifically. The people need to hear her finest work. I don't think you can call yourself 'Seattle's best music podcast' without her."

Edward laughs in a way that looks like he's possibly on the verge of having a mental breakdown and shakes his head.

"Also, my buddies and I are throwing a sick Halloween party if you wanna come! We're getting a DJ and everything. Just don't tell Alice yet because she'll show up to plan and tell me good parties don't have trashcans full of jungle juice again."

"I don't do parties, and she would be right. That sounds gross."

Emmett shrugs. "Just an idea, man. You didn't date up until two seconds ago either."

"I'll think about it."

"Aight, good talk, my dude. I look forward to hearing Celine this weekend." Emmett realizes he can't clap him on the back as he walks away because of his crutches, so he settles for a classic head nod. "I'm off to geology. Laters."

"Later."

...

Alice stands in the middle of a heap of fabric, pinning and stitching together silvery pieces onto a dress form. Yards of glittery tulle and sequins are scattered across the table and floor while she works.

Her phone sits propped up beside her, Esme's voice coming through on speaker loud and clear. "Okay, so you want to have the dinner next Friday?"

"Yeah, it's going to be good weather. Saturday it'll rain," Alice replies, sitting at her sewing machine and quickly joining sections of light grey satin together. "I told Edward to invite Bella! I can't wait to finally talk to her."

"I still don't understand what's happening with that. Are they dating?"

"Not sure, but they're going to be. That's all that matters. What should we cook?"

"Are you helping me do the cooking now?" Esme laughs. "Pasta? Everyone likes pasta, right? It going to be you, me, Carlisle, Emmett, Edward, Bella..."

"And Jasper."

"And Jasper. Sorry, who's Jasper again?"

"My friend. I think he eats pasta. I don't know." Alice holds up her work-in-progress to the light of the window. The beginnings of a sparkly, short dress are forming. "Do you want to get lunch? I'm going to take a break soon."

"I can't, I'm getting groceries then going apartment hunting with Carlisle's new intern."

"Ooh, I want to meet her! Does she like to shop? I need more friends who like doing fun stuff!"

"I'm not sure, I've only talked to her a little bit when I went to meet Carlisle for lunch the other day."

"I want to meet her!"

"I'll see what I can do," Esme replies with a laugh. "I just got to the store, so I'll talk to you later okay?"

"Get more orange juice, please! Edward drank the last of it this morning."

"I will, bye!"

"Bye!" Alice hangs up the phone and goes back to her sewing.

She wonders if her dress should by a halter top or off-the-shoulder. She drapes the fabric this way and that to get a sense of how it will look.

A few minutes after she hears the bell tower ring and signal that it's eleven, the door to the classroom opens and Edward comes in. He sits in the seat across the table from Alice's sewing machine.

"Ready to go eat?" he asks.

"Give me a minute, I'm almost at a stopping point. I want to get this last panel attached." She presses down on the foot pedal of the sewing machine, quickly joining the fabric.

"Is that supposed to be a dress or a disco ball?" he asks, looking at the piles of silvery material with feigned interest.

"Isn't it cute?" she squeals happily. "I can't wait to wear it!"

His face remains skeptical, but he nods. "It's definitely going to get attention."

Alice snips off the excess string from the seam she just made and folds the fabric carefully before placing it in a large tote bag. She grabs the rest of her materials and stacks them in on top of it.

Edward is wearing the same khaki pants he wore for the past five days, and his shirt collar is lying limp and weird like it was previously buried at the bottom of a laundry basket. It's not very cute.

"Who let you walk out of the house like that?" she says, wrinkling her nose. "You look like one of those sad people who's given up on life."

"That's me," he agrees listlessly. "I couldn't care less."

She sticks her lip out in protest. "Can you at least rotate two or three pairs of pants if you don't care what you're wearing? Seriously, I'm sick of those."

She hated it when he outfit-repeated because it made it hard to figure out when her visions of him were happening. It turns her premonitions into an endless stream of rainy days and Edward in boring, bland clothes.

"Fine. Whatever."

"Thank youuu," she sings. "Did you see Bella today? Why aren't you eating lunch with her?"

"I'm eating lunch with you."

"If you don't talk to her, she's going to think you don't like her," she advises as they head out of the classroom toward the Ave.

"She literally thinks I'm stalking her. I don't think that's a problem."

"Well, are you?" she asks rhetorically, already knowing the answer. He's clearly obsessed.

He scowls. "Emmett's planning a Halloween party and told me not to tell you because you'd ruin his plans for trash booze."

"You snitch!" She grins. "I'm not surprised. I saw he's moving back in with us. Did he mention that?"

"Yeah, his roommates are kicking him out because he's in debt and can't pay up."

"Ouch. Well, it'll be fun to have everyone back together," Alice chirps. "I'm sure Esme will be happy. She likes a full house."

Much to her delight, her party is going to be even more exciting than she originally planned.

Rosalie grumbles as she toils away under the hood of the old green Honda.

She doesn't know how Jasper's been driving the piece of shit around town when it smells like burning oil, but she's putting an end to it.

She can't fathom how someone could procrastinate a car service so long when he drives it like he does. He should have taken it in well over four months ago, especially since he drove it up to Seattle from Houston like this. It's like he doesn't even care.

She checks the air filter, tops off the fluid levels, and clips on new windshield wipers.

The car ultimately still looks like junk when she's done with it. It's not as satisfying as she had hoped.

Once she's finished internally and externally cursing Jasper's car, she heads upstairs into the apartment to get ready. Esme's picking her up in half an hour, and she would prefer not look like a dead rat. The ends of her hair are all dry and gross, and she smells like an auto shop.

Peter and Charlotte went out for lunch about an hour ago, and the door to Jasper's room is still shut. She hasn't seen him in a few days, but she assumes he's been home because someone's doing the dishes every night.

After a shower, blow-dry, and the help of a curling iron she found below the sink, she looks presentable. She decides on wearing the only pair of jeans Vera sent over along with a black Guns N' Roses t-shirt.

Rosalie blends some concealer over the yellowing bruise around her temple until she's satisfied with the result.

She opens the medicine cabinet and scrutinizes the contents. Most of the prescription bottles are still half-full and seemingly untouched from the last time she looked.

There's one on the top right that was recently filled. She picks it up and reads the label.

JASPER HALE. ALPRAZOLAM 0.5 MG TABLETS. TAKE ONE TABLET BY MOUTH UP TO 3 TIMES DAILY.

Xanax. Interesting.

Surely he knows better than to drink when he's taking that. It would explain why he's always so fucked up all the time. If he's even taking it himself, that is.

She shuts the cabinet and finishes getting ready.

When she gets downstairs, Esme's already waiting outside in a blue Tesla Model Y. She waves at Rosalie enthusiastically as she gets into the car.

"Hi! Ready to go look for future homes?" Esme grins, her brushed-out curls bouncing as she moves. Her hair looks a lot nicer than Rosalie's. "I'll forward you the tour itinerary so you can make your own notes. I wasn't sure which neighborhoods you'd like, so we'll go look at a little bit of everything today."

"Yeah, sounds good, thank you for doing this."

"Of course! Okay, we're going to start off with some places in the downtown area, then if none of those work there are some spots around Greenlake, Ballard, and West Seattle that could be nice. They're all within good commuting distance of Harborview."

"I know almost nothing about Seattle neighborhoods, so I trust your judgment."

Esme smiles and does a little happy dance as they drive to the first of many apartments. "So you've been in Seattle, what, two weeks now? Did you have many friends in the area before you moved?"

"Not really. Just my brother."

"I didn't either when I first moved here. It's a big city, so I'm sure it won't take you long at all to find some," Esme reassures. "What made you decide to leave New York?"

"I broke off an engagement." Rosalie's words come out sharper than she intended. It's a difficult topic for her.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be." The blond takes a deep breath. "Did you grow up in Seattle?"

"Nope! Columbus, Ohio, born and raised! I've only lived in Seattle for about five years now."

"And you like it?"

"I love it. It's a wonderful city once you get to know it," Esme says, her blue eyes twinkling in the sun. "Oh, if you're not doing anything next weekend, we're having a little get-together at the house. Dinner and drinks, that sort of thing."

"Sure, I think I'll be free." Rosalie knows for a fact she doesn't have anything better to do, but she doesn't want to seem overly eager for company. "I'll let you know tomorrow."

Esme slows the car and pulls into a paid parking lot. "Okay, here we are! The first of the bunch!"

Rosalie looks out the window at the tall, concrete apartment building and wonders if she'll ever feel at home in Seattle. Or anywhere, for that matter.

...

"I'm back!" Alice calls out as she opens the front door of the house.

There's no response.

It's one of the rare occasions when it's after 8 pm and she's the only one home. Carlisle and Esme must be out at dinner, and Edward wanted to stay back at the campus to play piano some more.

She, however, is ready to take a bath and crawl straight into bed.

Turning on the lights, she sings to herself as she traverses the stairs up to her room, carrying the big pile of fabric and pins that will eventually become her midterm design project.

She still has a good amount of hand-stitching to do so that the sequins and beading are exactly how she wants them.

When she gets to her room, she sees that the window's been left open, making the room uncomfortably chilled.

She doesn't remember leaving it like that, and no one else would go in her room while she wasn't there to open a window. It's strange.

She tilts her head in thought and sets down her things in the nearby armchair.

Before shutting the window, she surveys the ground below.

Meticulously landscaped flower bushes, an abandoned baseball bat, and a wheelbarrow sit in the grassy area, but nothing is out of the ordinary.

She can ask Esme about it later.

Walking into the adjoined bathroom, she turns on the light in anticipation of a nice, warm bubble bath to soothe her sore feet. She spent all day trecking around in heels as usual, but her new pair of Prada sling-backs still aren't quite broken in yet.

Suddenly Alice gets a vision of a disheveled office space washed in the red glow of a darkroom.

Dozens of photographs of herself—dancing at the campus gym, standing in line in the cafeteria, in a Capitol Hill boutique trying on dresses—are scattered across the desk. Someone's in the room, but she can't make out any details of what they look like. A television in the background is playing the local news on mute.

Someone's been following her.

She looks in her closet, under her bed, and does a walk-through of the entire rest of the house before concluding that she's the only one in the house. The security alarm shows it's been armed since that morning.

It isn't clear when the vision will happen—she hadn't seen a clock or calendar—but she's certain the photos were already taken. They were all of outfits she had worn and places she had gone in the last few weeks.

She wonders who would be following her, though, and why.

She hopes another vision comes soon, but she's afraid of what she might see if it does. If it's at all connected to the premonition she saw last week of being blindfolded and gagged, she's in trouble.

Running the bath and sinking into a tub of vanilla and jasmine-scented bubbles, she tries to relax.

She's going to have to be extra diligent and trust that things will all work out in the end. Her visions aren't consistent enough to be fool-proof sources of information, but they usually help her enough.

She knows that someone's following her, so she can look out for opportunities they'll do it again and try not to be alone when they happen. That could be enough to avoid potential danger.

The trouble with seeing the future is that she can't report that she saw someone doing something illegal in the future to law enforcement. They'd think she's insane.

She wonders if she should tell Edward, Esme, or Carlisle and if they'd even be able to help if she did. Extra eyes could be beneficial, but that means she would have to worry them with something she knows so little about.

So far, the only one in danger seems to be herself. Ideally, she won't have to get everyone wrapped up in unneccessary drama and she can just side-step the whole ordeal unnoticed.

No matter what happens, the future can change. If something bad comes her way, she will make sure that it does.

Alice rubs her temples and sinks deeper into the bubbles. If she tries to force her brain to pick up another vision, she'll give herself a migraine.