Renesmee always liked a challenge, but wasn't too sure how she felt about this one.
The schoolbus wobbled on the wet road as it drove through the suburbs of Forks, dropping off students in twos and threes. Renesmee sat at the very back of the bus, her sketchpad open on her lap. She chewed her bottom lip as her small hand swept across the page, drawing the head of a wolf. She focused on the minute details, pulling the face from memory. She'd soon be reunited with the subject of her artwork, she remembered elatedly, and bent closer to get a better look at her progress.
"That's pretty good," a stuffy voice spoke above her, and she jerked upward in surprise, having thought most of the bus was empty by now. A boy in a red sweater knelt on his seat in front of her, spying over the back to watch her draw. He offered a small smile despite her furrowed brow.
"Thank you," she said, relaxing at the kindness in his round face, easily returning his smile. He had blue eyes and a spattering of freckles on his cheeks and nose. She'd never met him before.
He waited for her to introduce herself, and she did the same, until finally she realized he wasn't going to without prompting. Like her, he seemed a bit shy.
"I'm Renesmee," she told him, hoping he wouldn't make fun of her name the way the other kids had.
"Renesmee?" he asked, tilting his head, and she fought a grimace, nodding. He considered it for a moment, then said, "That's a cool name. I'm Henry. I'm in Mrs. Wringer's class."
She was taught by Mrs. Ford. That explained why she didn't know him. "Nice to meet you, Henry," Renesmee told him, and meant it. She'd had a rough first week, to put it simply. A lot of the kids in Forks Elementary's second grade regarded her in an almost suspicious way, like they sensed she wasn't entirely like them. Some were nice to her, but nobody had invited her to sit with them at lunch yet, and she often found herself in the library during recess.
Which is where she was today when she realized she wasn't sure if she was up for assimilating to human life. She wanted to meet other children and see what it was like to learn in a school. Her parents were apprehensive at first but ultimately caved and enrolled her in classes when she explained how important it was to her. She wanted to be like the rest of her family, her coven: going to school and making friends.
But it was turning out to be much more difficult than Renesmee had anticipated, and she'd boarded the bus today feeling as though she'd made a mistake. Now, looking at Henry's sweet, open face, she wondered if she just needed time.
He sat with her during the rest of the ride, until they came upon his neighborhood stop. He gathered his backpack and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Renesmee."
Renesmee brightened, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest, making her hummingbird heart flutter even faster. "Okay," she agreed happily. "Thanks for sitting with me. Goodbye, Henry."
He waved, pleased to have also met a potential friend, and hopped off the bus. She peered out the window to watch him trek to the stop, where an older boy waited for him. His brother, Renesmee assumed, glad he didn't have to walk home alone in the drizzle that had started.
Renesmee's stop was the last on the route, and she quickly stuffed her sketchpad and pencils back into her bag. She hurried to the front of the bus, thanked the driver (the only child to do so), and leapt off gleefully.
Waiting at the bend in the road that would lead to the Cullen mansion was her Jacob, tall and broad and beaming like a ray of sun, and her mother, pale and beautiful in the shimmery midday light. Renesmee ran to Bella first, hugging her legs to say hello, and Bella ruffled her daughter's wild bronze ringlets.
"Did you have a good day?" she asked as Renesmee then went to Jacob, who scooped her up into his warm arms and tossed her bag over his shoulder. It was comically small on his muscled back, especially with the glittery unicorn pattern.
Renesmee nodded vaguely in response to her mother's question. She'd kept her thoughts very precise around her father; she didn't want them to know school wasn't going as well as they all had hoped. She was afraid they'd worry and not let her go back. It wasn't a nice feeling to conceal the truth, but Renesmee thought it was necessary. She also wanted to figure this out on her own. She was a big girl now.
"I met a boy on the bus," she told them, walking ahead of them now as they trekked up the hill towards home. She stepped in the puddles formed on the asphalt, enjoying the squish of water under her boots.
"You did?" Bella sounded satisfied, and that made Renesmee proud of herself. "Good for you. What's his name?"
She told them about Henry and what street he lived on, and that he had an older brother. That's all she knew about him since they didn't talk much earlier. He just watched her draw, content listening to the pencil on paper and observing her vision of the wolf come to life.
"He's in Mrs. Wringer's class," she added as an afterthought. "But I will see him tomorrow."
"You should sit with him at lunchtime," Jacob suggested. "I'm sure you'll make more friends that way, Ness."
Renesmee frowned contemplatively. She wondered if Henry's friends would be as welcoming, and if he'd say something to them if they weren't nice to her. All the ifs dimmed her previous shine.
She rearranged her thoughts to be more positive as the giant white house loomed into view amongst the trees, knowing her father was close by. Sure enough, the front door opened and he appeared, having heard them come up the road. Renesmee broke into a run, eager to see her daddy, and he came down the porch steps to meet her halfway.
"Hello, my dear," Edward sang, peppering her rosy face in kisses. "I missed you so much. How was your day?"
She told the same story, glad she didn't have to say it out loud again. She spoke to him with her mind, their own special way of communicating. She felt the most at ease being able to use her gift or talk to her father without needing it. Picking the right words could be so exhausting.
That was another thing about school Renesmee was having trouble adjusting to. She was expected to talk and chatter more, and Mrs. Ford found her painfully timid due to her refusal to engage verbally.
But it wasn't Renesmee's fault. At least, she didn't think it was. She knew she couldn't use her power with the other kids—it would endanger her whole family if they started telling everyone the weird new girl could show you pictures in your mind. But she didn't like talking, either, so it was frustrating.
Inside, the rest of her family greeted her, delighted to have her presence in the house again. She didn't think much about her situation for the rest of the day, instead opting to play board games with Jacob and later go hunting with her parents. By her bedtime she was tired, and after a bubble bath she donned her coziest pajamas and flopped into bed. Bella joined her with a new book, a collection of fairytales from a bookstore in Port Angeles, and Renesmee snuggled up to listen.
Storytime was her favorite part of the day, and soon she was drifting off to the musical lull of her mother's voice, hoping her day tomorrow would include Henry.
The din of overexcited elementary school students hurt Renesmee's ears. Even at the back of the bus, she had to press herself into the corner to avoid being pelted by erasers and wadded up pieces of paper. The driver had given up on trying to control them, and Renesmee felt a surge of pity for the older woman.
Her anxiety ebbed considerably when Henry came aboard, finding her with a smile. "Hi, Renesmee," he greeted as he took a seat next to her.
"Hi, Henry," she answered politely, lifting her backpack to dodge a pencil.
He laughed, then reached into his own. "I have something to show you. Close your eyes."
She hesitated, then did so. He searched his bag for a minute, then made a triumphant sound as he withdrew whatever it was. "Okay," he said, sounding excited. "Open your eyes now."
In his hand he held a Rubik's cube, which Renesmee had seen in a toy catalog around Christmas. It was out of order, faded, like it hadn't been played with in a long time.
Henry was grinning. "My brother gave it to me," he explained, handing it to her. "See if you can get it."
Unthinkingly, Renesmee began twisting it in her fingers, her brain hyperactively figuring out the puzzle without much effort. A perk to being half-vampire, only it didn't occur to her until she was finished and saw Henry's bewildered expression that she probably should have pretended to have some level of difficulty with it.
"Wow," Henry said finally, in awe.
"Sorry." Renesmee gave it back to him, the rose petals in her cheeks turning scarlet.
He studied the cube like he expected her secret to jump out of it. She shifted nervously, hoping he wouldn't suspect anything and ask her how she really did it.
She didn't know what she'd do with herself if they had to move away because a seven-year-old found out.
She pressed her lips into a line and took out her sketchpad, seeking a distraction. Henry watched her again, still seeming like that was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen in his short life.
Once they got to school, he offered the cube to her again. "Keep it," he insisted when she shook her head. "You solved it! It's yours. Show your mom and dad. It's really cool. Maybe you can show the kids in your class."
I wonder if they'd believe I did it, she thought to herself, but thanked him gracefully and put it in her backpack as the bell rang, signifying the start to their day.
They went their separate ways after assembly, and Renesmee swallowed as she followed her class to Mrs. Ford's room. The teacher, a young Black woman with a fun Afro and cheery smile, high-fived everyone as they entered. Renesmee liked that a lot about Mrs. Ford. She made everybody feel special.
The first few hours of school were typical, nothing out of the ordinary. Rain blanketed the windows and Renesmee listened to her classmates ponder what they were going to do at recess if it was wet outside. She planned, as usual, to go to the library. She was currently reading the Little House On the Prairie books and was quite invested.
When lunch rolled around, Renesmee felt queasy. Another day of eating alone, probably. She searched for Henry in the halls and then the noisy cafeteria, bursting even louder than the bus this morning. It made her sensitive ears ring, and she pouted. It'd be tolerable if Henry was here.
After grabbing her tray (she'd asked Esme not to make her lunch today), she dawdled for a moment as she wondered which direction she should go. She scanned the room for Henry, remembering he was wearing a green shirt.
She was about to give up when she heard her name, and turned in that direction. Henry was waving to her at the end of his table, and she gratefully went over to join him. He glowed as she sat down next to him. She noticed the kids around him, his classmates, were all shouting over each other and not including him much.
"Did you show anybody your Rubik's cube?" he asked, biting into a celery stick hungrily.
Renesmee dipped a baby carrot in some ranch. "No," she admitted. "I don't want people to think I'm a show-off."
Henry frowned. "I don't think that," he assured her kindly.
"I know," she said, wishing she could show him how she felt. "But my classmates might. They don't know me very well."
Granted, Henry didn't either, but at least he had a general sense about her to know she didn't do it to impress him. They ate in silence for a bit, Henry thinking about what she'd said.
Ultimately he seemed to give up on finding a solution, and said, effectively changing the subject, "You should come over to my house. We have video games."
Renesmee hummed thoughtfully, chewing another carrot. There wasn't much human food she liked, but she did enjoy baby carrots with ranch. "Okay," she told him earnestly. "I'll ask my mom. My uncle plays video games."
That in itself presented another dilemma. She honestly wasn't sure if her parents would let her go to Henry's. It wasn't about her thirst, since they willingly put her in public school, but maybe they'd want her to keep humans at arm's length. She didn't know if there were limits.
Maybe socializing with humans was never going to work for Renesmee. Maybe she'd never truly have friends.
She blinked away tears before Henry could notice, but he was telling her about the stack of games he had at home he wanted to show her. She simply nodded in agreement, hoping he'd get the chance to.
Just Jacob waited at the stop today, and she sullenly got off the bus, a stark contrast to her mood yesterday. Jacob bent to hug her, asking, "What's wrong, honey? Something happen?"
"No, Jacob," she lied, shaking her head. If she hated lying to her parents, she detested being untruthful to Jacob even more. She handed him her backpack and deliberately didn't take his hand as they began walking.
He didn't push her, but she could feel the nervousness emanating off of him as she added distance between them.
On the bus, Henry had reminded her to ask her parents to let her come over. She regretted saying yes and was regretting her desire to go to school all over again. Everything was going around in circles in her head; it overwhelmed her. The reality of it, of what she was and having to hide it, suffocated her.
Jacob immediately noticed her pinched expression and stopped her by kneeling down in front of her, hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he said, gentle but firm. "You look like you're gonna cry. What is it?"
She took a breath, trying to dislodge the ache in her ribs. She shrugged, shutting him out again, and wouldn't look him in the eye as she whispered, "Nothing, Jake."
The agonized concern in his face was too much for her. She pulled away and continued walking with a sniffle.
She managed to compose herself enough by the time they reached the house, but was acutely aware her father would know something was wrong just by Jacob's thoughts. She went around to the backyard where Emmett had put up the tire swing a few weeks ago, and climbed onto it. She sighed, folding her arms on top.
Through the glass of the back wall of the house, she could see Jacob talking to her parents, who seemed confused and worried by her dull behavior. She closed her eyes and kicked her legs to make the swing move. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want her momma and daddy to come out here and try to have a heart-to-heart. She didn't want them to know she was embarrassed—ashamed of what she was and how difficult it was to exist with such a big secret.
She thought about the Rubik's cube, and that's when she started to cry.
She stopped the swing and took off into the forest, initially on the mild path that lead to her parents' cottage. Tears fell from her eyes in a stream, her short legs carrying her swiftly through the underbrush and around moss-covered trunks.
"Nessie!" she heard Jacob call out in a panicked voice, but she didn't turn around. She wasn't going to get hurt out here. She knew and loved these woods.
"Renesmee," Bella shouted, closer than Jacob, and a half second later she was blocking the little girl's path. She held her white hands up as if in surrender while Renesmee stuttered to a halt.
Hiccupping back a sob, Renesmee could barely see her mother through her tears. She felt angry all of a sudden, an emotion she was unfamiliar with. "Go away, Momma," she wept, attempting to get around her and failing, for her mother grabbed a hold of her before she could make her escape.
"Baby, no," Bella chided softly, bending down to hold her daughter's arms. By this time Jacob and Edward had caught up to them, standing several feet away to give Bella the chance to comfort her daughter first.
"No, Momma!" Renesmee screamed, probably the loudest she'd ever spoken in her life. She felt guilty instantaneously, and cried harder. Bella's expression remained passive, patient, her eyebrows knit together with a sadness Renesmee didn't know or understand just yet.
"Shhh," Bella soothed, squeezing her elbows. "Don't yell. It's not nice."
Renesmee wanted to yell at the top of her lungs.
She almost did, then, aching to let out a sound that might convey how desperate and frustrated and hurt she was. But Bella's face hardened in warning, the first time she'd ever seen her mother be cross with her. It frightened her so much she covered her own face with her fists, tears soaking the sleeves of her shirt.
All this nonsense because of a Rubik's cube, she thought. She felt mad at Henry then, which she knew was irrational but she couldn't help it. Another sob escaped her, and the pain in her chest bloomed. Everything hurt. It was scary.
"Bella," she heard her father say, coming closer. "I think she's having a panic attack."
Renesmee didn't know what that meant, but she certainly felt panicked, like there was an iron fist, stronger than a vampire's, around her throat, making it harder to breathe.
There was a sharp whine from a worried wolf; Jacob had phased out of stress, and now he paced uncertainly, circling them like he was protecting the space.
Bella's grip loosened, and Renesmee saw fear reflected on her face now, all traces of sternness gone. Edward bent to sit with them, a large hand steadying his daughter's trembling back.
"Renesmee. Nessie." He spoke to her now, calm and sincere. "I know you're upset. You're feeling a lot of big things, which is okay, but you're hyperventilating. You remember what that means? Carlisle explained it to you."
She remembered suddenly, her grandfather answering her question regarding a scene in a book that bothered her. He'd said the character had an emotional reaction to whatever had happened, and began breathing quickly due to anxiety. That was a first for Renesmee, learning what anxiety was and what it could do to your body. She never imagined she'd be like that girl in the book, and she felt even more ashamed.
"Don't be embarrassed," Edward reassured her instantly. "It's alright. Take a big breath."
It felt impossible, but she did it, as broken and painful as it was. Tears kept flowing down her ruddy cheeks, but the sobbing tapered off. Edward rubbed her back supportively; Bella grasped one of her little hands. Jacob continued pacing.
"Good girl," Edward nodded. "Do it again. Breathe in, hold it, then let it go."
This went on for several minutes, until Renesmee's vision cleared and the knot in her chest went away. She felt very tired all of a sudden, and sagged against her father.
"It's okay." He eased her onto his lap where he sat on the forest floor, and wiped her eyes with his cool thumb. "I know. Lots of feelings for my darling girl."
Her chin wobbled as fresh tears pooled in her big brown eyes. "I don't like it," she admitted, defeated, unsure herself if she meant her emotions, trying to be human, or going to school. Maybe all three.
Jacob sauntered over, deciding it was safe to encroach on the family bubble. Renesmee reached out a hand to pat his muzzle, and he leaned into her touch gratefully. She scratched his nose as she caught her breath, overwhelmed still, but calmer.
For a while the only sound was her breathing and the rustle of trees above them, the breeze tossing their branches as a storm brewed in the clouds overhead. It was fitting, Renesmee mused, that a thunderstorm would be coming right now. It matched how she felt: reckless, scattered, discontent. Like the sounds she had wanted to make were her own thunder. A statement, a declaration of frustration.
She missed Henry then, a random sensation of vacancy filling her. He was a nice boy. He'd let her have his Rubik's cube and thought she was awesome for solving it. He wanted her to come to his house and eat popsicles and play video games. He'd complimented her drawing and let her sit with him at lunch.
Henry wanted to be her friend, because he didn't have any, either. And even if he did suspect (which he didn't) she was some sort of supernatural being (which she was), he was a seven-year-old boy. He'd probably think she was cool. It didn't matter to him what she was, as long as she was his friend first. It was possible for her to make—and keep—friends.
Additionally, her parents wouldn't have let her go to school if they didn't trust her with their secret. Renesmee was a smart, precocious child, and their brush with the Volturi made it clear what would happen if any vampire revealed what they were to humans. Renesmee wouldn't do that. But it was hard, knowing she was different.
"It's what makes you special," Edward reminded her, kissing her hair. "And you're very brave, wanting to go to school and meet humans, but also keep our secret. It's a lot for you to handle, isn't it?" She nodded. "But you're doing it. And it will get easier as you grow up. I promise."
Renesmee sniffed, chin tucked under his. He hugged her gently. Bella stroked her cheek softly.
If nothing else, she'd always have her family to rely on, to teach her how to go through school over and over, and make the most of it, whether the people around her liked her or not. That didn't lessen her worth or what made her unique. Humans, as vulnerable as they were to the forces of vampire beauty, often simply could not see what was right in front of them—but Henry could, and he did, and he wanted to be her friend.
They eventually wandered to the cottage, where Jacob stood protectively at the door while Edward and Bella brought their daughter inside. Renesmee clung to her father, sleepy now, ready for bed even though it was barely dusk.
"You can go to Henry's house," Edward told her as Bella started a bath for her. She looked up at him in surprise. He smiled. "Yes. It's okay. Be friends with Henry. He seems like he needs somebody, too."
Renesmee swung her legs as she waited for the bus to roll up to Henry's stop. Her drawing of Jacob was finished, and it sat in Henry's spot so he could see it as soon as he walked up. He dawdled to the back of the bus, brightening when he saw her there, then gasped at her sketch.
"It's done!" he exclaimed, picking it up carefully to admire it further. "Wow. You're really good."
"Thanks." She blushed, then motioned for him to sit down. He seemed pleased that she still wanted him to join her, as if he were the one who'd been doubting himself. Maybe he had been, she realized, remembering what her father had said about Henry needing friends, too.
"When can I come over?" she inquired, and he gasped in delight.
"Your mom and dad said yes?" She nodded, and his dimples mirrored her own. "Awesome. I told my mom about you. She said this weekend when she's home from work."
Renesmee glowed with excitement. Her first real play-date! She'd get to meet his brother, and his mom.
She opened her sketchpad to a new page and dug her box of pencils out of her bag. Henry watched intently as she began to draw, two short figures soon appearing. His smile grew when she gave one the outline of brown hair and the other, red curls. It would take some detailing, but Henry looked happy, almost sheepish that she was drawing him.
Renesmee was different, but Henry didn't treat her as such. He just saw her as Renesmee. And she saw him as Henry, a nice boy who wanted to be her friend.
She wanted to be his, too. And it didn't feel like a challenge anymore.
