Chapter 12 - The Bully

Edward

Last night, I divided my time between two separate but equally important tasks. One was protecting the town from a certain vengeful vampire stalking the region. The other was guarding the life of that vampire's primary target - Bella.

I sat outside of her house on and off all night, constantly on the lookout for danger while also listening to the random words Bella mumbled from her dreams. Some were normal. Others had me shaking my head at their absurdity. It's the closest I've been to reading her mind so far. I admit I may have gotten a little too intrigued. Whenever my other responsibilities required periodic attention, I found it difficult to pull myself away. Nevertheless, I would leave the Swan property every so often, run a few laps around Forks to ensure James wasn't nearby, and return to Bella's house once again - where I would hear her say things like "monkey shower" in her sleep. What does that mean? Who knows. But, hearing her say those two silly little words was funnier than anything I've ever seen on TV. I never knew what she would say next.

It's a quarter to six in the morning when an alarm clock buzzes. Not long afterwards, the beeping stops and I pick up on the sound of bare feet padding around Bella's bedroom. Aware that she is awake and (hopefully) safe from harm for now, I leave my hiding spot in the woods outside of her house. I return to my own home to find that both Esme and Carlisle are absent. I don't worry. No doubt Esme is out on patrol since her shift begins early in the morning. Carlisle is most likely gathering information concerning the latest human disappearance to strike our region. I run upstairs, shower, and throw on some clean clothes before heading to school.

Even though it's unlikely James would bust into the high school to pursue Bella, I remain paranoid and keep an eye on her for the entire day. In the afternoon, we meet in the meadow as usual. I'm not in the mood for anything in particular, so I pick a cassette at random and hit Play on the tape player. It turns out to be the Purple Rain album, a personal favorite of mine. Each song is a masterpiece, featuring layer upon layer of sounds to delight your ear. When side one of the cassette ends, I flip it over to the next.

Maybe I'm just too demanding

Maybe I'm just like my father, too bold

Maybe you're just like my mother

She's never satisfied (she's never satisfied)

Why do we scream at each other?

This is what it sounds like

When doves cry

"Whoa," Bella breathes out. She swings away from the tape player, her eyes landing on me. "This is incredible."

I stretch out my legs and cross my feet at the ankles. "Well... yes. You shouldn't expect anything less than greatness from Prince."

Her brows knit together. "Prince? Prince who?"

"That's it. It's just 'Prince'. He's arguably your... our generation's greatest musical philosopher." I shake my head in disbelief. "I can't believe you've lived seventeen years and never even heard of the man before."

She only shrugs in response.

"He played all 27 instruments on his first album," I add.

Her eyes stretch open. "No way."

I nod my head. "And almost every song he's ever recorded was written by him too. That includes the one you're hearing now. When Doves Cry was the number one song of last year."

"I can see why." Bella tilts her head as she thinks over what I just told her. "He must be very talented to be able to do all that."

"He is. And somehow Prince's music sounds even better in person."

A look of wonder crosses her face. "You've seen him before?"

"Yes. At one of his concerts."

"When?"

"Last fall."

Bella blinks rapidly and sits up straighter. "Um. Wow. Well... tell me about it."

"Tell you what?"

"Everything. I want to know what the concert was like. I've never been to one before."

She stares back with such an excited sparkle in her eyes, I decide giving her a simple answer wouldn't be fair. After all, we have a deal. I agreed to answer her questions regarding music as long as she doesn't come to the meadow alone. She has upheld her end of the bargain. I must do the same.

I squint slightly as I think back on that evening, my infallible memory bringing forth the image with perfect clarity. "The stadium was packed with people - at least twenty thousand - all screaming for Prince to hurry up and come out on stage. Eventually, he emerged from some fake stage fog, dressed in this purple ruffled shirt, the tightest pair of pants imaginable, and black boots that went up to his kneecaps. He looked like a pirate who just raided Cher's closet. If it had been anyone else, he would have been laughed offstage. But with Prince, the crowd loved it. The style fit his flamboyant personality.

"But it wasn't until he began strumming his guitar did anyone there realize his true potential. You could feel every note he produced vibrate through your body. It was like he was delivering the music personally to each member of the audience. And while he played, he also danced and sang his heart out. He made it look so easy." I pause before adding my final observation from that night. "It was one of the best performances I've ever seen."

Bella lets out a long sigh. "That's amazing. I wish I could have seen something like that."

I frown at her choice of words. She makes it sound as though she won't be alive to ever see such a thing for herself.

"You can still see it," I reply. "Prince goes on tour a lot. I'm sure he'll pass through Seattle or Tacoma again sometime soon."

Bella's gaze falls to her lap. "Yeah... but while he's playing there, I'll still be stuck in Forks."

"Stuck?"

Bella worries on her lower lip a few times before responding. She meets my eyes again hesitantly. "Have you ever had a nightmare and wished you could wake up from it?"

What a question for her to ask me. I haven't slept in almost eighty years.

Curious as to where she is going with this, I nod my head. I'm sure I had a nightmare at least once back when I was human.

"Well, Forks is my nightmare," she says softly. "And I've been trying to wake up from it for ten years."

I remain quiet and observe her closely. Bella doesn't speak much in the meadow. Our conversations are usually restricted to music and not much else. I cock my head a few degrees and try to get a read on her, searching to see where this sudden pessimism might be coming from. It's useless, of course. Her mind is as impenetrable as a fortress.

"You know," I begin slowly, "you don't have to live here forever. Before you know it, you'll be eighteen, graduating high school, and off to college."

She huffs through her nose. "Yeah, right. At the community college right down the road."

"Not necessarily. I believe there are dozens of other colleges and universities you could attend in Washington. And there's even more you can choose from within the continental United States."

"Fat chance of that ever happening," she grumbles. "My dad would never let me leave the county."

"Why?"

"Because he can't 'protect me properly' if I'm all the way in Seattle, or Spokane, or wherever," she answers, using air quotes to emphasize her point.

"Protect you from what?"

She shrugs one limp shoulder. "From everything, I guess. Music. Moving cars. Life. All the good stuff."

Our conversation on the subject ceases abruptly. The Prince album continues to play in the background. The last song on the tape, Purple Rain, appears to captivate Bella from the very start. She sits in a daze as she listens, eyes barely blinking. I've been through medical school a couple of times and once saw the birth of a newborn child. I held my breath as the infant emerged into this harsh and unforgiving world, covered with amniotic fluid and streaks of blood. Although the baby's thoughts were primitive and difficult to decipher, I knew that he whimpered and shook with rage because he had been pushed unwillingly out of the warm womb he had enjoyed for the last nine months. But, as he was placed into a pair of waiting arms, the child locked eyes with his mother. He stopped crying. The rage and grief he felt vanished in an instant. With widening eyes, he stared at his mother's smiling face as though she was the most interesting thing he would ever see.

That is what Bella reminds me of at this moment: A newborn child discovering the love of their mother for the first time.

The cassette ends with a click, pulling Bella back to reality. She meets my gaze and sends out a tiny smile. "That was great. Thanks for letting me listen," she says. Then she springs to her feet and collects her things from the grass.

I suppose it's time for her to go home.

I pull out the cassette from my boombox and stare at it for a second or two. Then I glance over at Bella again. She's pulling on her jacket, moments away from leaving the meadow and returning to that sad, silent house in Forks.

An idea latches itself on me and refuses to let go.

"Bella," I call out.

She looks my way. "Yeah?"

I pause and choose my next few words carefully. "You liked what you heard today. Didn't you?"

"Sure."

I continue to observe her as I lightly tap the cassette against the palm of my hand. "Have you ever heard of the Sony Walkman?"

Her thin eyebrows draw together. "Uh. I think so. It's a portable radio... or something like that."

"Correct. But it's also a cassette player. It's small enough to fit in a pocket."

A touch of amazement passes over her face. "Oh. That's cool. I guess I learned something new today," she says. She resumes adjusting her jacket around herself, most likely believing what I said was only an interesting piece of trivia I wanted to share.

"I have one in my car," I reveal quickly.

Her brown eyes light up with interest. "Really?"

"Yes. All it needs is a few batteries and its headphones and it will play for hours. The Walkman's very quiet. No one can hear what you're listening to as long as you keep the volume on low and you're far away from others. Whenever I want to block out the world and relax undisturbed, I pop in a tape and concentrate on the music."

Bella gazes off into outer space as I speak, a light and dreamy expression softening her face. She's behaving as though I've told some impossible yet also incredibly intriguing fairy tale.

I lean forward and try to capture her starry-eyed gaze. "I won't be needing it for a while. Would you like to borrow it?"

She blinks hard, reawakening from her daydream. "What?"

"I said you can borrow the Walkman, and some of my tapes too. The Purple Rain album sounds better the more you play it."

I expect for her to jump at the chance. Instead, the sparkle in her eyes dims. "Um. That's awfully generous of you... but I can't take it."

"Why not?"

"If my dad found me with a cassette player, you and I would both get into trouble. It's best if I don't bring anything like that into the house." She lifts her book bag from the soft meadow grass and hangs it from her shoulder. "But thanks for the offer, Edward," she adds in a lower voice.

Then she twirls around on her toes and walks straight into the forest.

I follow her as usual and keep my distance. When she passes into the Forks city limits, I don't stop tailing her. It isn't until she reaches her house do I finally relax my guard. I don't hear, see, or smell anything to indicate that James has been anywhere near her house. Bella's elderly neighbor sits on his front porch across the street. He rocks in a chair and waves in greeting as she bikes up her driveway. Her father isn't home yet, but at least she won't be completely alone.

Content with Bella's safety for now, I back away and head for home.

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Two days after Daryl Niven vanished off the face of the earth, the town newspaper ran the story.

Grizzly Bear Attack Suspected In Local Man's Disappearance

The headline came as no shock to me and my family. We kept track of the investigation and already knew what they would announce to the public. Of course, the law enforcement's conclusion is almost laughable. It's unheard of for a bear to break into someone's home, drag them off into the wilderness, and leave no mauled body behind. Yet the authorities decided nothing else could properly explain how the back door of the man's cabin was forcibly ripped down, or why the man's formally friendly and outgoing dog was now a shivering mess. To the humans of the Olympic Peninsula, a giant man-eating bear is the most frightening creature you could ever come across.

How wrong they are.

More than a week has passed since that headline ran in the newspaper. After a brief flurry of panic among the townspeople of Forks, things have gradually settled back to normal. And during all that time, Bella nor I have been back to the meadow. Each day, I would catch her eye in the school cafeteria and she would give the slightest head shake in return.

It was a signal.

It said, "No. I'm not going to the meadow today."

I thought little of it at first. I assumed she had errands in town to run or chores to do at home. But after she refused for the third time in a row, I began questioning why she was staying away from the meadow.

It was time for me to investigate.

I arrived outside of Bella's house that evening, much earlier than I usually do. My nighttime guarding duties normally begin long after dark - not at sunset. I could hear her moving around downstairs but had no idea what she was up to until her father arrived home at six o'clock. Watching the goings on from the Chief's perspective, I saw that Bella had prepared a large meal for them. It almost looked like a wedding feast.

"What's the occasion?" her father asked.

Bella's eyes flicked down to the table. "Oh... I was just a little bored today and decided to make something special for dinner."

Chief Swan hummed in response and grabbed his fork. He already shoveled in several bites of his side salad and steak when his daughter softly cleared her throat. He pulled his eyes reluctantly away from his dinner plate to look at her.

"Uh, Dad? While I was cooking today, I noticed we're running low on a few things in the kitchen," Bella began. "So, I was wondering if it would be all right for me to bike down to the grocery store tomorrow?"

Chief Swan grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth. Then, he shook his head in the negative. "I don't think that's a good idea. The forest rangers haven't found that bear yet."

"But I'll only be going across town. I won't be anywhere near where that guy was-"

"I said no, Isabella. It's not safe for you to be riding all over town while there's a dangerous animal on the loose." The Chief stabbed a cherry tomato with his fork but paused before putting it into his mouth. "Let's give it a few more days to see if they can track it down. After they catch that bear, or if they at least think it left the area, then you can go out by yourself again."

Bella slowly nods her head in response to his decision and stares down at her dinner.

Well, there was my answer on why Bella had been unavailable to go to the meadow. I turned away from the Swan house and left the premises so they could eat the rest of their meal without my prying telepathic abilities invading their privacy.

Four days pass by.

The calendar flips to the month of April. And during that time period, I learn a little more about the girl with the silent mind just by observing her. On Saturday, she works as a volunteer down at the public library. On Sunday, she sits on a swing outside of her home and reads a book she checked out the day before.

So that's where she gets most of her reading material...

On Monday, the temperature around Forks is noticeably warmer. The air sweeter. Spring has officially arrived. I run home after a long night spent protecting Bella's house. Carlisle and Esme sit in the living room reading - she with a gardening magazine, he with a new book on tropical diseases.

"Good morning, Edward," Carlisle greets. "See anything of interest during your shift?"

"No. It was uneventful," I respond. Except for that time when Bella mumbled "I'll deal with the jellybeans tomorrow" while she was asleep. That was pure comedic gold. But I keep quiet about that. I haven't felt the need to inform Carlisle and Esme of what all my nighttime duties consists of at the moment. Nor have I mentioned our little listening-to-music-in-the-meadow arrangement. Neither one affects our hunt for James. So, why should I bother telling them that useless tidbit of information?

Esme places her magazine on the glass coffee table and rises from the pale peach armchair. "Well, I guess it's time to start my shift now." She bends at the waist to kiss Carlisle. A flirty smile pushes up her dimpled cheeks. "And I'll see you later tonight, darling," she adds huskily.

My lip curls up in discomfort as Carlisle fantasizes exactly what "later" means for the mated couple.

Thank the heavens I have an excuse not to be here tonight. I'd rather run around Forks until the sun explodes than have to watch the sexual escapades of my family members. Mind-reading is truly a curse sometimes.

An hour later, I arrive at school with several minutes left before the bell rings. I maneuver around slow moving students and head towards first period English. When I turn a corner, I catch sight of a familiar brown-haired girl. Bella has her back facing me while she balances a few textbooks on the crook of her arm. She appears to be cleaning and organizing her locker. I watch as her free hand reaches for a fifth book to add to the pile she holds.

The entire stack of books begins swaying from side to side, threatening to tumble to the floor like a house of cards.

Since Bella is busy with her task, she doesn't notice what is about to happen. I analyze the minds of those around us. The half a dozen students nearby are all busy yapping to their buddies. No one is paying me or Bella any mind. I speed up my movements and arrive at her side right when the topmost book slides off. I catch it, set it back where it belongs, and steady the wobbling stack in an eye blink of time.

Then I'm gone.

She never knows I was there.

I enter the English classroom and find a desk in the very back. Bella arrives soon after and sits on the front row. The good students often congregate up there. They're the ones who make perfect grades and have absolutely nothing to hide from the teachers at this school, or the world at large.

That's exactly where Bella belongs.

Mr. Brown marches in when the bell rings and orders his students around like General Patton did to his troops in Northern Africa. It's day one of our oral reports on The Odyssey. I'm the first to be called to the front of the classroom. I spend seven minutes speaking about the topic Mr. Brown assigned for me. All I have to do is discuss whether the locations in the story were largely mythological in nature or if they were based on the geographic knowledge from that era. It was a simple assignment, and I complete it easily. Towards the end of class, the teacher calls on Bella to do her report. She rises from her desk with notes in hand and sets them carefully on the wooden stand. After that, she never looks down at her notes again. She holds her head high and addresses the room with a soft but clear speaking voice.

"My topic is: Why is Penelope traditionally considered to be one of the model wives of Ancient Greek literature?" She pauses, her eyes sweeping around the classroom. "In order to answer the question, you first have to understand that the social values of two and a half thousand years ago were different from what they are today. Women, even ones from wealthy families, were treated like property to buy, sell, and trade. Once a girl reached thirteen or fourteen, it was usual for her father or another close male relative to seek out a husband for her. It was a business transaction between her family and her future husband - romantic love rarely was involved. So, it is very likely that Odysseus and Penelope were brought together-"

Damn. Bella's looking pretty foxy, thinks a boy sitting at the desk next to mine.

Although my face is directed down at the textbook in front of myself, I see and hear everything Adam Wescott is currently admiring. The gentle waves of Bella's mahogany-brown hair. The bright gleam in her eyes. The curve of her waist and her flared hips. I notice she abandoned her usual bulky sweater and is instead wearing a thin, sleeveless white blouse. It's light and airy, perfect for the warm weather Forks is enjoying. It also shows off the creamy-white skin of her arms.

I suddenly find myself agreeing with this boy.

Bella does look nice today.

Before I can ponder further on this surprising observation of mine, Adam adds more for me to think about.

She keeps looking better and better, he muses. I wish I had the guts to ask her to the dance like Todd did. Dude's putting his life on the line trying to go out with the Chief's daughter. But, I gotta hand it to him. He's a brave S.O.B. Todd must have balls of steel.

I frown a little at what Adam has revealed. Of course I've overheard many of the students chattering about some little dance they put together every year. I know all about it. It's a secret dance held in some out of the way place far away from town. Chief Swan has no idea it exists. However, new questions about it are now taunting me to distraction.

Why hasn't Bella mentioned to me that she's going to the dance? She had the opportunity several times while we were at the meadow. Is this the reason why she wanted to learn more about music?

And, who in the hell is Todd? She never said anything about him before either...

Holy ta-tas, Batman! Adam thinks to himself. He stares at Bella with his mouth hanging open. She sure has grown up a lot in the last couple of years. I wonder what cup size she is now? B, maybe? No. Looks like it's closer to C. I wonder what they feel like?

Even though Bella speaks eloquently of the role married women played in Ancient Greece, Adam doesn't hear a word she says. His thoughts dive deep into the gutter. Everyone in the room except Bella and himself fades from existence. In his mind, Bella stops talking altogether and casts sultry eyes on his pimply face. She then brushes her long hair over a shoulder and, one by one, unbuttons her blouse until her cleavage is exposed. The bra he pictures her wearing is white and sheer, leaving nothing to the imagination.

The pencil in my hand snaps in half. To admire Bella is one thing. To regard her as though she's no better than a centerfold in Hustler magazine is another entirely.

Just as the Bella of his fantasies moves to unhook her bra in the back, I decide to take action. I elbow the heavy textbook off my desk and watch it fall out of the corner of my eye. It lands directly on Adam's foot.

"Ow!" he howls.

A perfect hit. That's what he gets for wearing canvas boat shoes to school. They offer no protection from falling objects.

I whip around and feign surprise, completely ignoring the curious looks the people in the class are giving. "Uh-oh." I lean over into the aisle and retrieve the book from his battered toes. This puts the two of us in much closer proximity. I harden my gaze into steel and stare straight into the little pervert's polluted soul. "Sorry about hurting you, Adam," I growl, too low for anyone else to hear. "I must have been daydreaming again."

His look of absolute terror is truly satisfying.

"Eh. N-no p-problem," he stutters. Then he quickly turns away in hopes I will never notice him again. He spends the remainder of class watching the clock, begging for the hands to move faster so he may flee the classroom. This ticks me off too. Bella is bringing up many good points in her oral report. Adam should really pay attention. He might learn something.

Nevertheless, I sit back and let the matter go. There's a bright side to all of this. At least he isn't undressing her in his imagination anymore.

At the end of the hour, the bell announces that first period is over. Bella collects her book bag and walks to her second period class. I don't see her again with my own eyes until noon. She's at the small table in the cafeteria that she always occupies. I fill my lunch tray with food and sit directly across the room from her. A few minutes later, she lifts her face away from the book she's been reading. Our gazes cross. Her head moves up and down. I mimic her actions. Then I pretend my vanilla pudding cup has suddenly captured my interest.

But one corner of my mouth also curves up slightly. After more than a week's absence, Bella has agreed to go to the meadow. Her father must have declared the town safe enough for her to travel around again.

If he only knew.

Although Bella once claimed that everyone at this school hates her, I have found the opposite to be true. A majority of students hold nothing against her personally, but they continue to stay far away. There are two reasons why. Evidently, rumors have swirled around for years about Chief Charles Swan's extreme protectiveness of his daughter. No one wants to hang out with her and risk putting themselves on her father's bad side.

Cowards.

The other reason why they stay away from her is much more infuriating.

Befriending her would hurt their precious reputations.

Most of the students leave it at that and avoid interacting with her. It's highly irritating, but at least they aren't cruel about it. Then there's the people I truly despise. These students have found ways to benefit from Bella's loner status. All they have to do is say a few barbed words about her and their friends get a nice laugh out of it.

The worst offender is Heather Sawyer.

She's vain, petty, and - for some inexplicable reason - is the most popular girl at this hellhole. Heather's tongue is sharp as a thorn and stings with insults. Bella is her favorite target. She fires out unkind comments here and there, loud enough for Bella to overhear them a good distance away. She never says them to Bella's face. This gives the illusion that she is too far above Bella socially to ever stoop to talking to the girl directly.

Today Heather is especially sour. The boy she has a crush on keeps looking at the quiet, unpopular girl sitting in the corner. So, Heather arms herself with a new put-down. If all goes to plan, she believes it will knock Bella down a few more notches.

"Oh my god, you guys," Heather says to her circle of friends. "Did hear the news about Chief Swan's daughter? It's unbelievable."

"No. What is it?" Crystal Perkins asks this while swirling a French fry in some ketchup.

Heather bends forward, as though she has a secret to share, but her voice rises in volume instead of lowering. She wants her friends and the people at tables nearby to hear every word. "Well, have you noticed how Bella Swan rides a bike everywhere she goes?" A few around her nod their heads. Heather smirks at each of them. "Ever wonder why she doesn't drive a car yet?"

The boy beside her squints one eye as he thinks. "Uh. I dunno. 'Cause it's too expensive?"

Heather snorts in reply. "Nice guess. You're wrong, though. For sure her family has the cash to afford a car for her. That's not the problem. What I heard was that she's too dumb to pass the written part of the driver's exam and can't get a licence. She's flunked it three times so far."

Her friend Crystal blinks in confusion. "How can that be? I thought she was super smart. Isn't Bella like on the honor roll and stuff?"

Heather raises an eyebrow in challenge. "Yeah, but she didn't do all that by herself. The Chief arranged those grades for her. He's got all the faculty here scared stiff of him. They're sure to give the Chief's kid a big, fat A in exchange for her daddy not targeting them all the time - like giving them traffic tickets for just going a mile over the speed limit. I heard he tried bribing the DMV to pass her on the exam but they refused. Pretty pathetic, right?"

Heather's crush buys the story and looks at Bella in this new, unflattering light. "Dumb, huh? That's too bad."

Emboldened by the boy's remark, Heather spews out more things she "heard" about the Chief's daughter. While a few people recognize that what she says are all lies and exaggerations, they are fearful of contradicting Heather. She's liable to snap back at them. So, they stay mute and laugh along with everyone else. When Heather mentions the nice used car her dad purchased for her recently, I'm hopeful she's ended her jealous crusade. I am proven wrong. It turns out to be a way to highlight how much better she is compared to Bella since she was able to pass the driver's test without needing to cheat. The subject of her car also provides her with an idea for after school, one to further hurt the soft-spoken girl sitting in the corner.

Not able to stand it for a second more, I jump up from my chair and storm out the exit doors. It's time to teach Heather the benefits of keeping her mouth shut.

Hours later, the final bell rings for the day. I'm one of the first to escape outside. I find an unoccupied spot by the school, lean my shoulder against the brick building, and wait to see what will happen. A steady stream of students flow into the parking lot. Bella soon appears at the bicycle rack. She crouches down to unlock the chain wrapped around the front wheel of her bike.

And, exactly as I expected, Heather and a handful of her cronies show up on the scene.

"Are you kidding me?" She mocks loud enough for everyone in the area to hear. "A padlock on a rusty old bike? Who would bother trying to steal that hunk of junk? It belongs at the dump."

Her gaggle of friends chuckle to themselves as the group passes by the bike rack. Bella frowns ever so slightly but doesn't say a word to defend herself.

"I'm surprised it even works," Heather continues on. She reaches her late seventies model car with a superior sneer stuck to her face. "I know if my dad bought me the cheapest transportation he could find, I'd start wondering if he even gave a shit about me."

With that parting shot, she slips behind the steering wheel and shoves the key in the ignition.

The engine sputters and goes dead.

Heather tries cranking again. And again. The car sounds like it's suffering from late stage emphysema.

A couple of kids begin snickering quietly into their hands. More people join in once it's apparent the car isn't going anywhere.

Heather slings the door open and goes to check the engine. She strains and grunts as she tries to yank up the hood. It doesn't budge. I suppose no one ever told her about the lever you have to pull first.

"Hey Heather!" a sophomore boy shouts. "What was that you were sayin' again? Something about dads not giving a shit about their kid's transportation?"

The parking lot explodes with laughter. Heather's face becomes redder. I do believe this is the first time in years her peers have looked at her with anything less than admiration.

But one person isn't laughing.

Bella watches what's going on with tired eyes, appearing much older than she should considering her age. Quietly, she removes the chain securing her bike to the rack and straddles the seat. Then she rides away and never looks back.

At the same time, an amused but also kind boy from the senior class takes pity on Heather. He pops the hood open and tightens the battery cables that I had tampered with earlier. When Heather finally fires up the engine, she thanks him with a small, humbled voice. All thoughts of bad-mouthing Bella have disappeared now that she has had her own humiliation to contend with this afternoon.

I push off the brick wall where I've stood these last few minutes and walk over to my car.

My work here is done.

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A/N-

Songs used in this chapter-

When Doves Cry by Prince. Was Prince merely a man? I don't know. I have my suspicions. (An advanced alien being is my current hypothesis) But, no matter his true identity, the music he created has certainly lived long and prospered. RIP.

Next Chapter- It's Bella's POV. You saw how Bella had a rough day at school. She hopes some time spent at the meadow will make her forget about it. And it works... thanks to Edward. He's so helpfully distracting sometimes. ;-)

Thanks for reading!