Bella's POV

Staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror I blink. I can't believe what I'm seeing.

Through the cloudy mist of confusion in my mind, one thing is clear. I will never ask Dad for fashion advice.

Not ever again.

Not in a million years.

My outfit is horrible.

My shirt looks okay, if I am trying to advertise that I love butterflies. Which I don't want to do. But my overalls are hideous. They don't fit me right.

Looking down at my bear cafes, I groan.

Apparently, I have had a growth spurt since the last time I wore my overalls. Because the pant legs no longer reach my ankles, like they used to when I wore them last year. Nope. Instead, the pant legs now come up to my cafes, making it look like I'm preparing for a flood.

"That's just great." I mumble to myself.

My bottom lip trembles. I feel like I'm going to cry again, nothing is going right.

Holding back tears I turn around, unlock the door, and open it. "Dad, we have a problem!" I call out, my voice trembling.

"What's the problem?" Dad asks from inside my room.

"Come and see." I say, sounding a bit snappy.

"I'm sure everything is fine, and you look very adorable." Dad says. He sounds every bit like a doting parent speaking to a toddler.

I roll my eyes and groan. Does he not realize "adorable" is a complement for tiny children and small fluffy dogs?

"I'm not five, Dad." I complain. "I'm not trying to look adorable. I'm trying to look pretty, and this outfit isn't helping."

"I'm still trying to find a jacket for you to wear." Dad says, ignoring what I said. "Why don't you come into your room so you can show me what's wrong?"

"I seriously don't need a jacket, Dad." My words come out sassier than I intended. "Everything is not fine; I can barely move in this contraption."

Dad mumbles something about a jacket and I roll my eyes. Once again, I tell him to come here, only this time I add that I cannot wear the clothes he picked out. They're horrible and I would be better off wearing nothing at all on my date with Edward. That gets his attention, he tells me he'll be right out of my room in a jiffy.

Standing in the hallway, I sigh. I'm feeling so irritated with my clothes I could scream. I hate this feeling.

"Okay, Bells," Dad says, walking out into the hall. My big puffy purple jacket is in his right hand and his eyes are on the floor. "Now what's the matter…" His voice trails off as his eyes finally look at me.

"Yeah," I say dryly. "I haven't worn this," - I tug on the front of my overalls - "Since last winter, when I was in 8th grade. It no longer fits me."

"I see." Dad sighs.

Not saying anything, I stare at him. I'm trying to silently communicate my annoyance with his fashion choices. Also, I want more than anything for him to say I don't have to wear my heavy winter jacket. I really hope he understands what I'm trying to tell him through my mind.

"You don't have to wear those," He gestures to my overalls. "I'll find another outfit to go with this jacket."

Nope, my attempt at silent communication did not work. Seems he really wants me to wear a jacket.

"What outfit am I going to wear?" I wonder, feeling grumpy. "You said no to dresses or skirts. So, what are you going to make me wear?"

Dad lets out a loud deep breath. He gulps and his face softens.

"I'm not trying to make you wear anything you don't want to." He says softly. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I'm just trying to help."

His voice is gentle, and I hope I didn't hurt his feelings. Very quickly, I apologize for being snappy.

"That's okay." He accepts my apology.

I waddle over to him and give him a hug.

"Somehow, I think," He says with his arms wrapped around me. "Jeans with a t-shirt that has the police logo on it doesn't seem like something you'd want to wear. Right?" His words are in the form of a joke. But there's some seriousness to it.

"Absolutely not." I pull away to see him properly. He smiles at me. "Why would I want to wear one of your shirts?" I wonder, trying not to show my horror.

Dad shakes his head no. "They are youth shirts from the Cadet program. I have a few extra t-shirts in the trunk of my cruiser." He explains. "I was thinking the shirt might be a good reminder for him to behave."

Feeling horrified, I stand still, saying nothing at all. My eyes are on Dad. He's acting so odd and unbelievable. Doesn't he know he would ruin my life if I were to wear something like that?

At the thought of wearing that hobble outfit, or any other dorky thing Dad might suggest. Tears collect in my eyes and immediately fall down my cheeks.

"Sweetie, don't cry." He says, wrapping me in another hug. "It was a thought, not a suggestion. I know I'm not too great at choosing clothes but -"

"You're not." I agree, interrupting him. "You might want to read a book on the type of clothes girls actually wear." I sniffle between sobs.

Patting my back Dad sighs. "Okay. What would you like to wear?"

"A skirt, a nice blouse, and no jacket." I answer automatically.

"Hmmm."

Our hug comes to an end. Wiping my eyes, I look up at him. The expression on his face is hard to read and I hope he listens to me.

"Do you still have those skirts with shorts sewn into them?" Dad wonders.

I look at him wondering where this is going. For a second I hesitate to answer.

"Yes. They're in a draw with my shorts. Why?"

"If you really want to wear a skirt," Dad begins, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "One of those skirts would be a good choice to wear tonight."

I let out a deep sigh. The sound is a mixture of relief and dread. That skirt isn't exactly the one I had in mind, though it's a step up from Dad's other fashion choices.

"I'm able to wear a skirt?" I ask in disbelief as his words finally register in my mind.

"If you want." He shrugs his shoulders. "You could wear a skirt with shorts. When it comes to being alone with a boy, it's best to be modest and cover-up."

Feeling happy he changed his mind, I smile at him.

"You also don't have to wear this," He hands me the jacket he's been holding all this time. "Unless you really want to."

His last words are light and make me smile.

"Not a chance." I take the jacket from him.

With that, I head into my room to change into something better than overalls. I'm very happy Dad isn't going to make me wear clothes that I don't feel comfortable in. Really glad he came to his senses.

For the first time in my life, I care about fashion and looking nice. It's different, kind of weird, and I wonder if this is part of me now.

Closing my bedroom door and walking by my desk, my phone that sits in front of my computer begins to chime, letting me know I received a text. Followed by two more.

Suspiciously, I stop and eye my phone, wondering who would be texting me. No one but Dad has my number and I'm sure he wouldn't text me when we're in the same house.

While I think about that, my phone receives several more texts back-to-back. Way too many to count.

With my phone blowing up with an insane number of messages, my curiosity shoots through the roof. I grab my phone and flip it open. Immediately I am startled to see I have 95 messages from one unknown number. Nope, 96, 97, 98. 99? That number just text me again, making it 100, and I have no idea who would be this persistent on texting me this many times.

"Who is this person?" I ask myself aloud as I receive yet, another message from a very anxious and possibly demanding person. This person most likely has the wrong number.

As more texts come in, I open the very first one up. Right away I find out this person actually has the right number. She is trying to get in contact with me and her name is Alice!

Oh boy.

I quickly read the message to see why she's texting me so much…

'Hi, Bella! Alice here! I was shopping and missed why you have those hideously small overalls on. But for the love of every fashion goddess, don't wear the overalls!'

Staring at my screen, I let out a deep breath. That's just great, of course Alice "saw" me in this horrible outfit. Seeing the future is her gift, after all. I just hope she didn't tell Edward what I was forced to try on.

Not sure what to reply because I haven't read the next 100 messages, I don't type anything yet. I think about what I will text her as I open and read the next message…

'That's just great. I'm grounded. How did I not see this coming?'

'Now I can't go buy you a formal strapless dress for this special occasion. With six-inch-high heel shoes.'

'Don't argue with me about fashion, Bella! This is not the time.'

'A girl's first date is supposed to be magical. You must dress like a princess. Not a farmer.'

'Burn the overalls and shirt!'

'Burn them now!'

'Rost those sorry excuses for clothes like marshmallows at a campfire.'

'Listen to me, Bella! Do it!'

'Burn them! That outfit is for 5th grade! Not for a date.'

'I mean it, Bella! Burn them or I will use you as a Barbie for the rest of eternity!'

'It's happening sooner than you think.'

'We're going to be sisters and have so much fun.'

'Listen to me. Burn those overalls.'

Blinking my eyes, I quickly go through the rest of the texts. They are along the lines of the first seven she sent me. I begin to see Edward's pixie-like sister in a whole new light. She's obviously a very anxious, hyper, demanding, control freak, pyromaniac, Barbie loving, vampire that cares about fashion a little too much. Her texts hurt my head.

I can't figure out what she means about becoming her sister. But I can imagine her frothing at the mouth, like a rabid dog at the sight of the shirt and overalls I still have on.

Just when I get all caught up on her text, she sends me three more. Trying not to get overwhelmed with her trying to pick out a dress for me and tell me how to do my hair. Not to mention what type of socks and shoes I should wear, when she's not even here. I finally type out my reply…

'Alice, it's okay. I know what I'm going to wear, a jean skort and purple shirt with a matching shirt. I'm going to keep my hair down.'

Feeling confident with what I chose to wear, I press the send button as another text comes in…

'NO DENIM! That's so last season.'

'And ABSOLUTELY NO skorts. Those are so tacky.'

'Go with that silk black dress that's in the back of your closet, the silver shoes with sequence. Wear plain black socks, and French braid your hair. Edward will love it.'

I stare at the words on the screen. I would be lying if I said I wasn't feeling overwhelmed right now. Not to mention very irritated. With hot tears in my eyes I sit on my floor, clutching my phone in my right hand.

I really don't want to wear the black dress I wore for my grandma's funeral. Nor do I want to wear the thrift store dressy shoes I only wear to church when I go with Angelina's family, and my hair… Well, I don't have any idea how to do a French braid.

Is that how Edward is hoping I will dress? He didn't say anything about it this afternoon. All he said was that he couldn't wait for tonight. But maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he wants me to dress a certain way and just didn't tell me.

Tears begin to slide down my cheeks. Fashion is not my strong point and I have I know idea what I'm doing.

Apparently, dressing my best is way more difficult than I anticipated. First, I couldn't decide on an outfit I liked. Then dad wanted to pick out my outfit like I'm five-years-old. Now Alice – a girl I literally met two days ago – is basically telling me my choices are all wrong.

I guess I just do things all wrong.

Ten more crazy fashion texts come in. Her fashion tips are more for the Red Carpet than a night of mini golf and I am done. Since my choices of clothing are so horrible, I might as well find a burlap sack and wear that. Then see how Alice will like my choices of feed-sack dresses.

In seventh grade I learned that during The Great Depression, mothers would often sew their children clothes using cloth feed-sacks. 'Maybe I should do that to get Alice off my back.' I think sarcastically to myself.

My tears stop following while I begin to imagine sewing a dress from a fed-sack. I'm sure it would look very silly, and Edward would most likely think I lost my mind. But still, it's a funny idea. I let my daydream play out in my mind like a movie on a screen until Dad knocks on my door, wanting to know if I'm ready.

"Almost." I call through the closed door. I know that's not exactly the truth, I'm nowhere near ready. But I didn't want to say that.

"I'll be outside in the cruiser." Dad informs me. He sounds happy.

With that he disappears, and I pop up and run to my dresser. Opening it up I begin to realize something. Alice hasn't texted me in a while and I wonder what happened to her, but at the same time, I'm grateful she stopped texting me. I guess she gave up.

Nope. Guess not. My phone begins to make the noise it does when a text comes in.

I groan and glare at my phone.

This girl is getting on my nerves now.

Dreading what fashion advice Alice will give me now, even before I have a chance to change my clothes. I cautiously flip open my phone and am surprised to see a message from a number that is not Alice's.

Thank God!

Wondering who is texting me now, I open up the message and read it...

'Bella, what did you do to Alice?'

'My sister is completely broken. She's curled up in a corner of her room, rocking back and forth mumbling, "Fed-sack dresses. They're back. Oh the horror!" over and over again. No one can calm her down… Again.'

'This is her second fit this evening. This is getting ridiculous.'

'Btw, this is Rosalie.'

Dumbfounded, I waste no time, I text her back.

'Nothing. I didn't do anything.'

'I was only daydreaming about wearing a fed-sack dress, after Alice texted me too many times. She kept disapproving of what I wanted to wear.'

I press send and look through my drawer that has my shorts and skirts with shorts sewn into them, the ones Dad approves of. I quickly came across the jean skirt that I had in mind. But a yellow one with a flower print catches my eye. Maybe I should go with that one, after all I have a matching blouse in my closet.

That would be a good choice. I think. I hope so.

Though now, I find myself second guessing my choice. I hate that feeling and quickly change out of my overalls and into my yellow skirt. Once again, a text comes in, followed by four more.

Dang, these vampire girls' sure text fast. I open the first one and read it as more come in….

'Ugh! Not this again.'

'Emmett once thought of wearing a neon tie-dye shirt, with a kilt, and suspenders, with pink fuzzy bunny slippers to our senior prom. Please don't ask. It's not something I can explain.'

'Though I can say this, he claims it was just a thought. He said he was never going to go through with it, he always planned on wearing a tux. But Alice thought it was a real decision he made. That it was set in stone. All because she saw it.'

'Sometimes people's daydreams interfere with what she sees.'

'Sometimes her visions are weird.'

'Whatever she said about what you're choosing to wear, don't listen. Don't take her advice to heart.'

'She gets too worked up over fashion. When she gets pushy just do what I do; tell her to back off. Otherwise, she'll try to dress you whenever she wants. In whatever she believes is best.'

'Back to when Alice saw Emmett's strange daydream. She ended up having a nervous breakdown over it. That was not a fun summer.'

'I have my fingers crossed that she won't stay in meltdown mode. This is crazy.'

'What are you planning on wearing, anyways?'

Trying to decide on how to respond to Rosalie, who I don't know that well, I stare at my phone. Thinking about the yellow blouse that goes with my skirt, but wondering if I should wear it or not, words start to spin into sentences inside my mind. I decide to not reply to the first several texts, just the last one.

'A yellow skirt with flowers printed on it with a matching blouse, and maybe my hair in a bun or down? I'm not sure.'

'Alice made a big deal about a denim skirt. That was my first choice. But I guess by her reaction Edward wouldn't like that outfit on me.'

'So, I decided on another outfit.'

With the truth laid out in the open, insecurities invade me along with nervous butterflies in my stomach. I wonder what she might say as I change my shirt.

Seconds go by without a reply. Slipping my phone in the front pocket of my skirt, I try not to think about my outfit being all wrong since she didn't respond to my message. I quickly finish getting ready, trying to only think happy thoughts.

Only positive and nothing negative. At least I'm happy with what I'm wearing.

Brushing my hair, I grab a blue scrunchie from my dresser, and slip it on my wrist as Dad begins to lay on the horn. I roll my eyes and run out of my room. Carefully, I sprint down the stairs, holding onto the banister for support. I manage to make it down the steps without tripping. With one big leap I'm out the door. Shutting it behind me, I quickly jog over to Dad's cruiser and get in.

"Sorry I took so long, I had second thoughts on what to wear." I apologize, putting my seat belt on.

"Don't worry about it. You look nice, your outfit choice is good." Dad reassures me, backing out of the driveway.

"Thanks."

Two seconds into our drive a text comes in and then another one.

Holding my breath, fearing a little that it will be Alice, I slide my phone out of my pocket, and flip it open. Dad chuckles, making a typical lame dad joke of kids being glued to technology. I don't say anything as I notice the message is from Rose, not Alice. That makes me feel very relieved.

I begin to silently read my text…

'Sorry about the late response, I'm actually in the middle of writing. But people in my house are crazy and very needy right now. You wouldn't believe what's happening over here.'

'Don't worry about impressing my brother, he'll like whatever you chose. If it helps any, he had similar troubles. Our mother had to pick out a shirt for him before they left. All because he didn't know what to wear.'

Surprised at the last part, I smile a little. Seems like I'm not the only one that didn't know what to wear.

Quickly I thank Rose for her help. She probably has no idea how much our back-and-forth conversation put me at ease. But it did. She was more helpful to me than Alice was.

Not wanting to text any more, I slide my phone back in my pocket. I look out the window, thinking about Edward while Dad drives.

I sit back, enjoying our drive in comfortable silence.

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Thanks for reading.

We have one more chapter until E&B go on their date. Yay! Switching POVs takes a while to get to a certain point in the fic, at least for me. I know this is a long story, hope you guys are still with me. :)

If you have any suggestions about what could happen during a game of mini golf with Bella, leave your suggestions in the review section. I'd enjoy hearing it and adding it in.

Please leave a review. :)))