Chapter 10 - The Deal

Bella

My bike's tire popped on a lonely stretch of road last night, giving me no choice but to walk home on my own two feet. During that time, I came across two people. The first was a stranger to me. The guy acted relatively decent at first, but that changed once I refused to respond positively to his creepy, sexual advances. Then, the second guy showed up, looking angrier than a cornered wolverine. He wedged himself into the conflict without any prompting from my end and told the first guy to beat it.

That second person was Edward Cullen - my school's current obsession, and also rumored pyromaniac.

To be honest, he's the definition of a loner. Whenever one of his many admirers comes up to shoot the breeze with him, Edward sends out a terrifying death glare which sends most of them bolting back to their desks. But, he seemed a little nicer last night. He looked me straight in the eyes, spoke a few times like a sane person, AND gave me a ride in his fancy Batmobile-like sports car. Everything was going along fine until I stuck my foot in my mouth and screwed everything up. I snapped at him for asking a question about my embarrassing lack of knowledge when it comes to music. He never uttered another syllable to me after I did that. I guess I can't blame him. I wouldn't want to talk either if someone just bit my head off.

Oh well. At least he still drove me home.

Almost as soon as I stepped into the house last night, I called Dad at the police station and asked him to pick up my bike from where I left it. During our brief conversation, I conveniently forgot to mention the part where I had run into a creepy guy earlier who may have wanted to do some very bad things to me. Charles Swan would have freaked out and probably constructed a tower (à la Rapunzel) for me to live in for the remainder of my life. My freedom is limited enough as it is. So, I wisely kept quiet.

Hours later, the alarm clock on my nightstand beeps extra early in the morning, waking me from a sound sleep. I climb out of bed and go downstairs to see if Dad remembered to bring the bike home after his shift ended. He did. I push my bike into the garage and go to work. We always keep a few extra tire tubes on hand just for occasions like these. I get the job done long before school is set to begin. I quietly reenter the house and try not to wake Dad up yet. He had to cover someone else's shift and didn't come home until late. He needs to sleep a good eight hours and relax for the rest of the day, but I know he won't. He'll show up to the police station by eight o'clock this morning just like always, decked out in his uniform with puffy bags underneath his eyes. A workaholic never takes a break from their career if they can help it.

Since I'm out of bed with plenty of time on my hands, I cook a cheese and sausage omelet and leave some inside of the warm oven for Dad. I even make a bag lunch for myself to take to school, consisting of a ham and cheese sandwich, potato chips, and a few apple slices.

Look at me. I'm practically Julia Child.

Other than a bit of fog still on the road (which makes it a little harder to see), the ride to school goes as normal. I lock up my bike at the rack and head to first period English. Right when the bell clangs, our teacher begins roll call.

"Jennifer Brewer?" Mr. Brown says.

"Here."

"Gabe Cagle?"

"Here."

"Edward Cullen?"

No one makes a sound.

Mr. Brown glances up from the attendance roll, does a visual scan of the room, and marks Edward down as absent.

My forehead scrunches into a mass of lines. Edward was absent from school yesterday, and now today too? I just saw him out cruising the streets of Forks last night. He seemed perfectly healthy at the time. So, what happened? Did he get sick again? Or, is he just playing hooky?

The English assignment Mr. Brown gives the class distracts me from that line of thought. The rest of the morning zips along about as quickly as the Himalayas rose up from the Indian subcontinent. At noon, I drop by my locker before heading to the cafeteria. I'm exchanging my History textbook for Chemistry when I hear a familiar voice speaking nearby.

"That blouse makes me want to gag," says Heather. "It's such an eyesore! It's buttoned up to the neck and has like zero appeal. Even a bag lady living on the streets of Seattle wouldn't dare wear it."

Her comment freezes me in place. My back may be turned, but somehow, I know that put-down was meant for me.

I tell myself to ignore what she said and leave. But call me a glutton for punishment, I guess. I turn my head around anyway and make eye contact with her. For a second, I swear I see the old Heather standing there - the goofy, funny one from our childhood. At the time, she swore we'd be friends forever. Then she blinks and it's gone. All that's left is the Heather of today. Her eyes are cold, but dangling from her lips is a small, triumphant smile.

She knows I heard what she said, and she doesn't care.

As usual.

That's the price of popularity in Forks. In order to keep yourself socially elevated, you must push the underdogs like me further down the ladder. I slam my locker shut and rush away to the cafeteria. Her betrayal happened years ago, but today it stings just as badly as it did when I was eleven.

I guess that feeling will never change.

The lunchroom is buzzing with activity by the time I reach my table. Even though my appetite is practically nonexistent now, I force myself to eat some of the ham sandwich I made this morning. But, I'm distracted. There's a novel hiding in my book bag, one which can temporarily relieve the stress I'm feeling just by me opening its pages. I toss my sandwich to the side once I've eaten half of it and dig out Middlemarch, George Eliot's masterpiece. It's long, dramatic, kind of old-fashioned, and exactly what I need to get my mind off of my pathetic excuse for a life.

A few minutes later, I overhear a girl from the next table over talking obnoxiously loud. "Hey. Did you guys hear anything else about Rory Parker?"

"No. What about her?" asks a boy.

"Oh my god. You haven't heard? Everyone's saying she ran away from home last night."

"No way," another girl says.

"It's totally for real," the first girl responds. "Chief Swan was down here a little while ago and pulled a few people out of class. I was in the front office when I saw it happen. I heard him asking if they knew where she could have gone."

I usually ignore the gossip around here since ninety percent of it is about as real as the book I'm reading. Though, now that I'm thinking about it, there may be some truth hiding in the gossip this time. Every single day, Rory unleashes her unique brand of verbal torture upon me. It's a tradition she's had since we were freshmen. Sadly, she's the only person my age who talks to me consistently. Lucky me. But, she's been a no-show so far this morning.

"Whoa. Did the Chief find out anything?" the boy wonders.

"Don't know. But I bet I know what happened to her. Rory went partying somewhere, got hungover, and now she's passed out cold. She's gonna be in a shitload of trouble once she wakes up and has to drag her ass back home."

Someone at the table laughs. "Yeah. That sounds about right. Rory never could handle anything stronger than a beer or two."

My eyes wander away from their table and search for Rory's flame-red hair among the mass of people in the cafeteria. I see no sign of it. But I do notice that there's an undercurrent of excitement hovering in the air. Everyone is chatting up a storm about Rory the Runaway... except for two people. Me, of course. And, Edward Cullen.

He sits at a table diagonally across the room from me. There's a slice of pizza and a carton of milk on his tray, though he touches neither.

Hmm. Edward's back at school. I wonder why he never showed up for first period English? Maybe he had an early doctor's appointment or something...

I shrug off the question for now, pick my book up, and go back to reading.

Lunch ends far too soon for my liking. I'm forced to put away my novel and concentrate on my classes. Chemistry and Calculus go by at an evolutionary crawl. When the final bell tolls, I zip out through the classroom door and come across an unwelcome sight. Heather and her current best friend, Crystal, are standing in the hallway. Their critical eyes follow me as I pass by. I walk faster until I've escaped outside, the sounds of their whispering mouths still echoing in my ears. Eager to get the hell away from this place, I unlock my bike from the rack at record speed. All I want to do is relax, pretend my life doesn't suck, and read for a while in a stress-free environment. Going home doesn't sound so great at the moment. The house has a depressing, stagnant feeling attached to it even when Dad isn't around. There's a much nicer place I visit whenever weather permits.

My meadow.

So, that's where I decide to go.

I hop on my bike and pedal until I reach the four-way stop. I turn off of Main Street and onto a road that weaves like a ribbon out of town. The landscape changes from residential homes and businesses to uninhabited forest within only about three miles. Sometimes it's convenient to live in such a tiny, rural town.

Upon reaching a primitive logging road, I pedal a couple of minutes more. Soon, I slide off the bike and hide it in some weedy undergrowth. If you aren't paying close attention, you'd miss the faint signs of the trailhead to the meadow. Mom and Dad kept it that way on purpose. Litter and too many tromping feet would forever affect the ecosystem there. I enter the forest and follow the familiar dirt path. As soon as I step into the meadow several minutes later, I inhale the heavenly scent. It's fresh. Green. Alive. And in a few short weeks, thousands of wildflowers will bloom. This place will be awash in dozens of brilliant colors.

I can't wait.

I plop down on the thick carpet of grass and reach into my book bag. Out comes Middlemarch again, which goes straight on top of my lap. My nose happily buries itself into chapter three. I get to the part where Sir Chettam is unsuccessfully wooing Dorothea when I hear a twig snap. And then another. The birds high in the trees halt in their beautiful crooning and start squawking in terror. Feathered wings flap furiously as they fly away in every direction. It's as though they believe a dangerous animal has appeared within their territory and it's time to flee to safety.

Then, bursting upon the scene like a thunderstorm, appears Edward Cullen.

He stomps out of the forest and into the soft grass, his face clouded with a fearsome, angry frown. One hand is fisted around a boombox, the other holds a small black carrying case. With no prior warning, he drops to the ground only about ten feet away from where I sit. He unzips the black case, plucks out a cassette, and stuffs it unceremoniously inside of the boombox. Edward's pale-white index finger smashes the Play button. A slow beat and a woman's voice breaks the silence.

Lying in my bed, I hear the clock tick and think of you

Caught up in circles

Confusion is nothing new

As the song builds up in intensity, Edward continues to scowl at the ground like someone pissed him off and ruined his day. My book drops from my grasp and out of my interest. I stare at him in frozen astonishment, too intrigued by his quiet temper tantrum to look away.

If you're lost you can look and you will find me

Time after time

If you fall, I will catch you, I'll be waiting

Time after time

"Do you have any idea how vulnerable you are right now?"

The voice I heard overpowers the music. It's rich and pleasing to the senses, like a serving of red velvet cake.

And it didn't come from the boombox.

Edward slowly raises his face. Stormy, golden eyes pierce across the few feet which separates us until they meet mine. I want to say something about that weird remark he just made, but I've been rendered speechless. All I can do is go on staring at him like I've misplaced my tongue somewhere. It's not every day mysterious heartthrobs from my high school wander into the forest just to strike up conversations with me.

"You came to a secluded spot in the middle of nowhere - alone - with no means of defense. Does that sound like the responsible thing to do?" he hisses between his pearly-white teeth. "Well? Does it?"

I knit both of my eyebrows together, confusion splashed all across my face. "I've been coming here since I was little and nothing bad ever happened. What's the big deal?"

Edward's stormy eyes blow up into full-fledged hurricane strength. "The 'big deal' is that you were harassed in the middle of town last night. Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't come along. And what do you do the very next day? You wander off into the wilderness all by yourself!"

He pauses to pinch the bridge of his nose. The music in the background switches to a new, quieter song. Gradually, his fingers release their tight grip and he reestablishes eye contact with me. "What if that same man followed you here this afternoon, Bella? Hmm? Or, what if a mountain lion crept out from behind that bush over there? What would you do?" His gaze hardens along with his voice. "What if I were a threat to you, Bella? What if I came here with the sole purpose of taking your life? A helpless girl like you would be at my mercy."

Being called "helpless" snaps me right out of that confused trance. I've pretty much taken care of myself since I was eight.

I reflect his scowl right back at him. "Well, I guess it's a good thing for me you aren't a cold-blooded killer then, huh?"

Like a flash of lightning, his narrowed eyes widen slightly. Then he glances away from me. "Erm," he answers in a rough grunt.

We enter into another period of silence. I interpret it as proof he's dropped the overbearing asshole act. I pluck up a piece of grass and twist it around my fingers while my curiosity bubbles underneath the surface. Unable to keep quiet for a second more, I cock my head to the side and ask a question that's been bugging me for days. "So, how did you find the meadow? I haven't seen anyone else here in years."

Edward hesitates before answering. "I found it by accident one day." Another frown weighs down his face. "Years ago."

"You've lived in Forks before?"

"No. I lived in this area before, but not Forks itself. I was... hiking through the woods when I found it. I thought the meadow made a decent place to escape to every now and then. It's peaceful."

The blade of grass stills in my hand. That's why I come here too. It's an escape from my current reality.

I stare off into the near distance, at the dogwood tree which stands alone in the center of the meadow. My eyes unfocus and enter a hazy world of my own, a scene from the past unfolding before me.

The sun's out, all warm and inviting. I'm barefoot and being chased through the meadow's knee-high flowers. I almost make it to the dogwood tree when the dark-haired woman with eyes like the sky swoops in and twirls me around in the air, sending a gurgling laugh straight up my throat. My smiling dad watches us play from the comfort of the picnic blanket.

With a sigh, Mom carefully sets me down on my feet. "You're getting so big," she says. "Pretty soon I won't be able to pick you up anymore."

The thought sends a thrill down my little body.

Me? Big? I can't wait!

Mom holds out both hands and gives them a shake. "Come on, Bella."

I eagerly take her hands, no questions asked.

"There's an old song I think you'll like," she says. "When I was a girl, my mother told me that the fairies sing it sometimes after the first flowers of spring bloom. There's even a little dance for it too. I want you to learn it. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

I bob my head up and down and grin, eyes squinting through the bright sunshine.

"OK then. The dance is easy. All you have to do is hold on to my hands while we spin in a circle. But when I say the words 'fall down', we'll have to drop to the ground. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes, Mommy."

She smiles down at me. "Good. Let's get started!" Then she sings, her voice opening up to the heavens like an angel.

"Ring-a-round the rosie,

A pocket full of posies,

Ashes! Ashes!

We all fall DOWN!"

"Bella?" calls another voice.

My eyelids flutter a few times, immediately wiping away the daydream. The vision of Dad, Mom, and the happier time in my life disappearing as quickly as it had arrived.

I look away from the dogwood and over at the new boy in town. Edward's watching me closely, one bronze eyebrow raised. "Are you all right?" he asks.

I swallow hard. It feels like I've been placed underneath a microscope and he's examining the slide. I raise my chin up a little higher and try to sound confident. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

Edward goes on staring, like he's here to monitor my mental breakdown and doesn't want to miss out on the free entertainment, but he says nothing in return. I try to ignore him and instead listen to the new song that just began playing. It sounds interesting, but some of the lyrics are a puzzle to understand.

Always slipping from my hands

Sand's a time of its own

Take your seaside arms and write the next line

Oh, I want the truth to be known

(Ha ha ha, ha-hi)

I know this

Much is

True

"Lolita," I whisper under my breath.

"Excuse me?" My eyes flick away from the tape player and land back on Edward. He aims an incredulous eye at me.

"What?" I blurt out, suddenly self-conscious.

"You said 'Lolita'."

I fidget in place. "Yeah. So?"

"Why did you say it?"

"It's nothing." His gaze refuses to leave my face, as though he's super glued it there and doesn't plan on peeling it away anytime soon. I feel my cheeks heat up from the scrutiny. Eventually, I roll my eyes and give up on trying to hide my crazy. "Fine. I'll tell you. That song has a couple of lines that sounded kind of familiar. It took me a while, but I realized whoever wrote that song must have been partially inspired by Lolita."

Edward's brows slam into his hairline.

"What?" I say again.

"You... aren't allowed to listen to music, but your father doesn't mind that you've read Lolita? A novel about an adult man and his sickening obsession with a middle school aged child?"

I can't help but cough out a humorless laugh. "My dad doesn't pay attention to what I do as long as he believes I'm behaving myself. When he sees me curled up with a book, he probably thinks I'm still reading Heidi, or Anne of Green Gables." I allow a break in the conversation to occur before talking again. "So... what is this song about anyway? The lyrics are all over the place."

Edward stretches his long legs out from under himself and purses his lips. "Music is merely poetry accompanied by instruments. Normally all you need to do is listen to the words to know what the songwriter wants to get across - though I must admit listening appears to be going out of style as of late. Most people dance to the beat and never give the words a fraction of their attention. But in this particular song's case, I think it's meaning is open to interpretation."

Another song comes on. I bend forward and rest my elbows on my crossed legs, my hands cradling my face as I concentrate on the lyrics. There's a giddiness filling my chest the more I listen. I'm doing what millions of others do all the time who think nothing of it. Just listening to music everyone else in the country has heard has me feeling almost normal again.

As an idea takes shape within my brain, my eyes drift away from the tape player. Edward's leaning back on his hands, one Nike crossed on top of the other. I sit up and clear my throat. "Um. Are you planning to come to the meadow anymore after today?"

He squints slightly. "I'm not sure yet. Why?"

"Because I was thinking. I come here all the time, right? And you come here sometimes. So... maybe I can listen to your music with you whenever you do decide to come?"

He doesn't respond as quickly as I would like. The song playing goes through its entire chorus before he says a peep. "Aren't minors prohibited from engaging in that sort of activity here?"

"Yes."

"Then why risk it?"

I shrug a shoulder and glance down at my lap for a second. "Because I want to hear music again. It's been... a very long time. I've missed it."

Edward stays silent for a long moment. Then, his head tilts at an angle, as though he's sizing me up. "I am a very private person. I don't like interacting with most people."

I flash a look of mock surprise at Captain Obvious. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

He frowns but keeps on going. "As I was saying, I prefer keeping to myself - especially at that hellhole of a place called Forks High. If word got out that I was meeting with someone after school, I would have a hundred students who are no brighter than sea slugs pestering me about it. Then there's a much greater problem - your father. I'm sure if Chief Swan found out I was exposing his daughter to the evils of rock and roll, he would make it his mission to track down and destroy every last one of my cassette tapes and vinyl records. So, if I were to agree to what you have asked, you would have to keep quiet about everything. You couldn't tell a soul about our meetings or the music I own. And, frankly, I'm not convinced that you are capable of keeping such a secret."

My eyebrows slant in offense. "I know lots of secrets, and I've never told anyone."

"Is that so?"

"Sure. When you don't talk much, you can't help but overhear things sometimes."

Edward studies my face for several seconds. "Name one thing you've heard."

I shoot him the side-eye. "Do you think I'm stupid? If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret anymore."

His lips twitch a time or two before settling down. "Fair enough. I'll make you a deal then. If you promise to come to the meadow only when I am present, I will agree to bring my tape player for your listening pleasure."

"Huh? That's a terrible deal. Why wouldn't I be able to come here whenever I want? I've never needed a babysitter before."

The relaxed expression on Edward's face falls into another, more pronounced frown. "Because I don't want to feel guilty the day you come up missing and everyone assumes you're merely a runaway."

His words send chills racing up my spine. "Rory?"

He slowly nods his head up and down. "According to what I overheard at school today, Rory left her house last night and met up with a man. Interestingly enough, they were last seen together at a location not too far from where we sit right now. Less than half of a mile away, in fact. It's been said this man wore a leather vest, black boots, and had long blonde hair. Rumor also has it that Rory decided to run away from home immediately after meeting him. That's an incredible coincidence, is it not?"

I cover my mouth to hold back my horrified gasp.

Leather vest.

Black boots.

The man from last night! The one who introduced himself as James. He tried to lure me off the road to do god only knows what. And even though Edward told him to leave town, I guess James stuck around and chose someone else to take my place.

"That could have been me," I murmur.

Edward dips his head once in acknowledgement.

Waves of guilt slam into me, one after another. Rory ran smack into James and now she's gone missing. If James had taken me instead, Rory would have gone to school today and been just fine.

What happened to her is all my fault. I have to make up for it somehow.

"We should probably report to the police what happened to us last night," I say out loud.

Edward shakes his head at me a couple of times. "You can if you want to, but it won't do any good. The police consider Rory's disappearance an open and shut case. There's no evidence to indicate she left town against her will. And even if they were to take you seriously, they won't ever find Rory."

"But we have to do something! She needs our help. Maybe if we give my dad a better description of what James looks like, the police will try looking harder..." My voice fades to nothing as Edward's grim statement finally penetrates through my thick skull.

"You think she's dead," I whisper.

He closes his eyes for a second and releases a sigh. "I've lived in a lot of different places and seen many things. The... man we saw last night... I've unfortunately come across his type before. I doubt he suddenly developed a conscience and allowed Rory to walk away unharmed. And even if the authorities were to connect him with Rory's disappearance, I can guarantee that James is already long gone from the area by now. They'll never catch him. The only thing we can do at the moment is watch our backs and hope James doesn't return to Forks."

"And what if he does?"

"Then we'll report him, if you want," Edward replies. I nod my head in agreement.

Song after song plays, each one slow and rhythmically calming. I draw my knees up to my chest and stare straight ahead. I try to recover from the shock I've been exposed to today, but there's no possibility of that happening anytime soon. Yesterday, Rory was alive and teasing me like always. Today she might be dead. She's never liked me, and I've never liked her. But she shouldn't have been preyed upon by a psycho.

Period.

I lift my chin from my kneecaps and sit up straighter. At the sound of the movement I've made, Edward's eyes reconnect with mine. "So... you say you'll let me listen to your cassettes with you as long as I keep it a secret, and if I don't come to the meadow by myself anymore?"

He holds up a finger, silently asking me to wait before jumping to conclusions. "Let me amend that, please. As long as you keep this a secret, only come to the meadow when I am present, AND stop wandering down deserted roads all by yourself - especially after dark. Then, I will agree to the arrangement you proposed."

I twist my mouth to the side as I contemplate his offer. "OK, I guess. But if I'm expected to do all that, you have to at least tell me everything you know about music whenever I ask."

"Why?"

"Because I'm ten years behind the rest of the planet music wise. I want to catch back up. And I figure since you carry around a boom box and own multiple cassette tapes, you probably know more than I do."

I wait patiently to see what he'll say. Several tense seconds tick by before I get my answer.

"Deal." Edward leans forward slightly, a serious glint flashing across his eyes. "Now, tell me the name of that book sitting in your lap."

00000000000000000000

Edward

It's dusk when I walk into the house. The television is turned to the local public broadcasting station. There's a large blank canvas set up nearby as Esme prepares to paint alongside Bob Ross. I'm sure the forest landscape she creates will outshine anything the Joy of Painting host can come up with.

I walk up to Esme and hand her the Ziploc bag that's been weighing down my pocket for the past week. "Would you return this to the girl's house, please?"

Esme glances at the plastic bag for a moment. "Of course I will. And next time, I'll try and see if I can find something less... awkward than a bra for you to carry around. Maybe a sock or mitten of Bella's. Or, maybe a-"

"That won't be necessary, Esme. I don't think I'll be needing anything like that anymore." I bolt for the stairs but stop after a few steps. I glance over my shoulder at her. "I believe I've found a better way to acclimate myself to the girl's scent." Before Esme can open her mouth to press for more information, I'm already up in my bedroom with the music turned up to blasting.

00000000000000000000

A/N-

Songs used in this chapter-

Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper. Cyndi = Icon of the 80s.

True by Spandau Ballet. I hereby nominate this to be one of the eightiest '80s songs to have ever been recorded. It's got everything you'd expect in a song created in that decade. An electric keyboard and synthesizers, a catchy hook, AND a snazzy saxophone solo. Come on. You know you wanna go listen to it. :-)

Next Chapter- Their little arrangement proves interesting for Edward as he tries to solve the mystery of Bella's silent mind. And Death stalks the citizens of the Olympic Peninsula.

Thanks for reading!