Chapter 16 - The Rebellion
Bella
The slow song playing on the stereo reaches its end. My arms drop reluctantly from around Edward's neck. He loosens his hold on my waist and steps away. Our dancing lesson is over.
Now I understand how Cinderella must have felt when she had to leave the royal ball before the stroke of midnight. And it's all because I have to leave Edward's bedroom before my dad gets home.
It sucks going back to your normal, humdrum life.
But a part of me is threatening to go rogue. I want to tell Edward to plant his hands back where they were and keep them that way. We don't need music. Heck, we don't even need to move. We can just stand here and I can stare up at him for a few more hours. I'd be fine with that.
No, idiot. Don't even go there. All he was doing was teaching you a few dance moves. He was only being nice.
My inner voice is right. I can't look too deeply into this. I mean, so what if his laugh is so magical that it made my heart stop? It isn't his fault that he affects me to that extent. And big whoop that when we danced, all I could see was him. I forgot all about stupid music bans, boring small towns, and overly strict fathers. I think I could have easily stayed in that dazed bubble and happily lived out the rest of my life.
After pouring over the evidence, I see that Ms. Linda must have been right about me. I have a crush. A very, very bad crush. Edward accidentally swept me off my feet and I've fallen flat on my face. But that isn't his problem. I'm sure he wouldn't like it if he knew about these strange, new feelings of mine. Dozens of girls at school sigh at his every move, and he hasn't exactly hidden how much he loathes their fawning. I don't want to be grouped in with them in his mind. He might push me away. So, I'm just going to have to keep my mouth shut and deal with it on my own.
Edward and I walk out of his bedroom and he closes the door behind us. I begin to hear distant voices floating up from downstairs. I look to him for an explanation.
"My parents are home," he says.
A nervous tremor rattles my stomach. "Will they be mad that I was here without their permission?"
He smiles. It's small but gloriously crooked. I suddenly have trouble remembering how to breathe.
"No. I can guarantee they won't be mad," he says lightly. "My parents will be delighted to see a guest in the house."
Despite his assurances, it's hard for me to believe what he's saying. His parents don't mind that a person of the opposite sex was hanging out in their kid's bedroom? Sure, it's not like we were doing anything scandalous up there. But, still. Wow. Edward's parents must be really laid back compared to Charles Swan. He would have a heart attack if I tried bringing a boy up to my bedroom.
Not that a boy would even want to go to my bedroom.
Edward and I walk side by side down the staircase. When we reach the first floor landing, I take a peek into the Cullen living room. Two people are sitting on a peach colored couch. I haven't seen Esme since our run-in at the grocery store weeks ago, but I can see she looks as gorgeous as I remember. Honey-brown hair. Stylish clothes. A face that could launch a thousand ships. She even flashes a toothy grin and waves at me like a beauty queen on a parade float. She could (and should) be on the cover of Vogue.
The man next to Esme has his arm loosely draped around her shoulders. He is her male counterpart in jaw-dropping attractiveness. He's dressed in a casual button-down shirt while his straw-blonde hair is slicked back into a pompadour. This must be Doctor Cullen. He looks a lot younger than I was expecting. I wonder if his new patients suddenly develop fainting symptoms once they get a good look at him? I hope the nurses have smelling salts on hand. He could easily be mistaken for a movie star from sunny Hollywood if it wasn't for one thing: All of the color has been drained from this man's skin. And the weirdest thing of all is that Edward and Esme's complexions look identical to his.
I thought they came here from Boston. Does Massachusetts get even less sunlight than Washington?
Edward escorts me close enough to the perfect-looking couple where we can talk without shouting. "Bella, these are my parents. Esme and Carlisle."
An easy smile slides up Carlisle's face. It makes him appear even more youthful than before. "Hello, Bella."
"Hi," I reply.
I expect for Esme to say something but she remains mute. The smile she wore when I first saw her today has faded. Her eyes have grown to the size of chicken eggs and are drilling a hole into me. It's like she's seen a ghost instead of your average teenage girl.
Carlisle elbows her ribs. "Oh!" she trills. She shoots up taller in her seat. A weird little laugh bubbles up her throat. "He, he. Um. Sorry about that Bella. My mind must have wandered off without me. I was just admiring that locket of yours. It looks...just lovely on you."
Her comment makes me slightly self-conscious. I reach up to toy with the locket but stop myself and force my hands back by my sides. "Thank you," I reply in a quiet voice.
"I'm so happy you came by today. We don't get visitors out here very often." Her head tilts at an angle. "Did you two have a good time up in Edward's room?"
My mouth moves but thankfully nothing comes out. I have a strong urge to shout out something like, "We didn't do anything wrong, Esme! Our clothes were on the entire time!" I'm sure that wouldn't sound incriminating.
As I struggle to find something appropriate to say, Edward intervenes by handing me my rain jacket. "Well, that's it for question and answer time. I'm afraid we've got to go now."
"What! Going?" Esme looks between the two of us. "Already?"
"Bella has to go home. It's almost time for dinner."
"I can handle that! Bella, why don't you stay and have dinner with us? We can...order a pizza or something." She turns to Carlisle. "They still deliver pizza, don't they? I'm fairly sure I saw it advertised on TV once."
"Yes, honey. I believe they still do." Carlisle's eyes sparkle over at Edward. "We can drag out the board games too while we're at it. That should make for an interesting family date night."
Edward gives Carlisle an intense stare-down. "As much fun as that sounds, Bella cannot stay any longer. Her father expects her home soon."
Esme's rosebud mouth drops into a frown. "Oh." Once that moment of disappointment passes, she recovers some of her lost cheeriness. "Well...maybe some other time then?"
She looks so hopeful, I can't find it in myself to disappoint her with the truth. And the truth is, the only way I could ever eat dinner with the Cullen family is if my dad stays late for work and doesn't know anything about it. I'm sure Dad wouldn't be happy to learn how close I've gotten to the youngest member of their family.
I direct a small smile back at Esme. "That sounds great."
And it does. Too bad it will probably never happen.
Edward and I walk outside into heavy rainfall. As soon as both doors of his Jaguar slam shut, he cranks the engine and we take off.
"Your parents are nice," I say to him.
He agrees with one fluid nod of his head. "That they are."
My bottom lip finds its way under a tooth. There's a question nagging at me. I try to hold it in.
I lose the fight before we even reach the end of the driveway.
"Are you guys distantly related or something?" I blurt out.
His forehead furrows. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you guys have a couple of traits in common."
Edward stares straight ahead. "Is that so? Such as?" There's an edge to his voice that wasn't there before.
"Well...you all have the same skin tone. And your eyes look to be about the same color too." Plus, all three of the Cullens have faces of stunning beauty - especially Edward. It's harder for me to admit that out loud. He might get a clue on how I feel if I start comparing him to some toga-wearing mythological god.
Edward drives for a short distance before forming a response. "We're not related by blood. Though, it does sometimes feel that way."
"What do you mean?"
He glances briefly away from the road. "We're a family made up of orphans, Bella. All we have is one another." He pauses to shake his head at himself. "Even during the times when I made poor decisions and disappointed them, they stood by me. I didn't deserve their loyalty, but I got it anyway."
"Well... that's what families are supposed to do." I breathe out slowly through my nose. "It must be a relief to have people to support you no matter what."
"It is indeed." At the fork in the road, Edward merges onto the one heading towards town. "What about you? Do you have any family besides your father?"
"No. They're buried at the Forks Cemetery. My dad and me are all that's left." I lower my head and look down at my lap. The gold chain hanging from my neck grabs my attention. I instantly forget about our former conversation. Something from earlier has popped back into my thoughts.
"Edward? Esme seemed awfully interested in this locket. Are you sure she doesn't want it?"
He laughs softly to himself. It sounds like music. "I'm positive. The last thing Esme would want is for you to return that locket."
"Then why was she staring at it?"
"Because Esme was being Esme. She's easily excited."
"Excited about what?"
"She was excited that the locket has found an owner. She thought I'd be stuck with it forever." The smile he gives is uneven. "And I'm sure she's thrilled that I will no longer be trying to gift it to her or my sisters. I'm surprised she didn't thank you for finally taking it off the premises."
I lift the locket and admire it again. It isn't flashy like most things you find today. There's no neon colors or famous, name-brand logos to distract you. It has more of a muted beauty. There's just a few spiral loops engraved on the oval front. I think that's why I like it so much.
It's twilight when we reach the street I live on. Remembering my past instructions, Edward parks well away from my house. Only the surrounding trees are aware of who is dropping me off. I pull the hood of my jacket over my head and run back out into the rain. By the time I make it to the trunk, he already has my bike untied and waiting for me. I take it from his hands. "Thanks, Edward. So... I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"
The stare he returns has my stomach doing somersaults.
Repeatedly.
"Yes. Tomorrow," he replies.
I climb on my bike and head for home. My face points straight ahead instead of glancing over my shoulder at what I'm leaving behind. Watching Edward's car drive away wouldn't be a good idea. The frown on my face would be a dead giveaway on how much I wish I could still be in the passenger seat.
Oh well. At least Dad isn't home yet to see how pathetic I've become.
I unlock the door and rush to the kitchen. The meal I make for the two of us is done lightning fast. Dad grunts out a hello soon afterwards and digs into the Hamburger Helper and peas I made. At the last forkful, he compliments my cooking skills and disappears into the living room to wait for The A-Team to come on. He doesn't comment on the new locket around my neck. If he even noticed it, he probably thought it was something I've owned for years.
I crawl into bed at around 10:30 and snuggle underneath the blankets. The tap, tap of the rain outside lulls me to sleep. My dreams are vivid and filled to the brim with a certain boy I've gotten to know.
There's Edward sitting on the couch with me in his room.
There's Edward giving me a lopsided smile.
And then there's Edward pulling me close and brushing his lips across mine.
That last one really gets my attention.
Even in my half-conscious state, I know I am treading dangerous ground. I can't let myself think that way. I try to dream of neutral subjects that would normally bore me to tears, like classroom lectures on how grass grows. Nothing I do helps. Edward always reappears on the scene and the dream focuses itself entirely on him again. After the third or fourth time this occurs, I give up the fight and decide I should enjoy it while I can. Dreams are there for a reason. They give you the opportunity to live out your fantasies within a safe, controlled environment without the boy you are obsessing over ever knowing about it.
Sounds good to me.
Hours later, the alarm clock chirps from my nightstand. I have half a mind to pound it into smithereens. I was having a very nice dream before I was so rudely awakened. Edward and I were dancing again in his room...but this time our bodies were pressed so close together, only our clothes separated us. We moved around like professionals. There were so many elaborate spins, slides, and dips that it would have made me dizzy in real life. Every step he took, I followed perfectly in sync. The dream versions of us made it look so easy. Then Dream Me just had to go potentially ruin everything by opening her mouth and saying three risky words.
I love you.
I can't believe Dream Me had the nerve to say something like that. To just blurt it out? With no idea how it will be received? She must either be a lot bolder than I am or just plain stupid. But before Dream Edward could even respond to what Dream Me had confessed, my alarm clock rang and woke me up.
Now I'll never know if I was having a perfect dream or a horrible, embarrassing nightmare.
With a groan, I crawl out of bed and prepare for another day at school. It's pouring outside this morning. The rain is that heavy, soaking kind we often get around springtime. Thankfully, there's no thunder or lightning accompanying the rainfall. I put on my best rain coat and boots before I attempt biking through the mess. The ride is no fun. The streets are slick and the air is humid. It feels like the town is trapped inside a closed Tupperware container. I mentally pat myself on the back for wearing a short-sleeve shirt underneath the rain coat. I would have died from heat exhaustion if I had worn something thicker.
The school building offers welcome sanctuary from the inclement weather. I immediately shake out of my wet coat and drape it over my elbow. As I move away from the door, I notice the hallways are crawling with people. The parking lot is too flooded to hang out in this morning. Students have no choice but to huddle in small groups inside the school if they want to talk before classes begin. And that's what they do.
Except for one person.
Edward stands by himself and leans against a wall at the end of the hallway. His clothes are mostly dry but his hair is still damp. A bead of water drips down his forehead. He looks good, as usual. If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn on my life that he just finished shooting a shampoo commercial. But, something about this situation doesn't seem right. I don't understand what it could be until I separate myself from the crowd and walk over to my locker.
Edward is staring at me.
He and I have an agreement. While we're at school, we keep our interactions to a minimum. We don't talk. We don't greet one another with high-fives. And we certainly don't openly stare. That's a huge no-no. So for Edward to be looking at me straight on and not hiding it is... well, it's weird.
I try to play it cool as I retrieve my books and walk to first period English. Most of my classmates are present but not yet in their seats. I slide into my desk on the first row and arrange my things the way I like them. Then, I look straight ahead at the chalkboard and wait for class to start.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Edward strolling through the door. He moves to my row and heads to where he always sits - at the very back of the class. But today he changes his routine drastically. His hand lands on top of mine. Cool fingertips brush over me, from my wrist to my upper arm, as he passes by.
I suck in a breath. It's like he struck a match along my bare skin.
And it feels oh so good.
After several moments of stunned inaction on my part, I twist around in my seat. Edward has already made it to his desk. He reclines back in his chair and locks gazes with me.
His eyes are scorching hot. And I am helpless to look away.
My heart pumps faster. The classroom spins around us, making it feel as though he and I are riding a Tilt-A-Whirl at a carnival.
Why is he doing this? Doesn't he understand that if we keep this up, someone will notice?
Brriing!
The bell signals the start of class. Edward looks towards the door a second before our teacher enters the classroom. I seize the opportunity. With his hypnotic eyes elsewhere, my body twirls back around and faces forward.
It's a miracle. I've been freed from the spell.
As covert as can be, I perform a quick visual survey of our surroundings. Our classmates are either still chatting it up with their friends or rushing to their desks. Somehow Edward and I got lucky. No one saw what just happened. I'm very relieved...and also disappointed. It would have been nice if I had found a witness. I could have at least confirmed I'm not imagining that Edward just raked his hand up my arm in the middle of a classroom full of people.
It isn't long before Mr. Brown whips out an English textbook and launches into the lesson. I think I hear one out of every ten words exiting our teacher's mouth. I'm having a little trouble concentrating. Or a lot, to be honest. My skin still tingles from where Edward touched me. The goosebumps on my arm refuse to retreat. Even my eyeballs twitch in their sockets, eager for me to turn around and spend the rest of the day soaking Edward's image in.
I pray that Mr. Brown doesn't plan on calling on me today. This might be the first time in the history of this class that I won't be able to answer one of his questions. Making a giant ass of myself in front of almost two dozen people is something I would rather avoid.
More than halfway into first period, the intercom system buzzes to life. The speaker hanging above the chalkboard looks so old that Thomas Edison probably built it himself. "Mr. Brown?" drones the nasal-voiced school secretary.
Our teacher lifts his weathered face up from his opened textbook. "Yes?"
"Could you please send Edward Cullen to the front office? His mother is here to pick him up."
"All right, Ms. Fields. I'll tell him right away." The intercom clicks off. Mr. Brown peeks over his reading glasses. "Edward? I assume you heard that?"
"Yes, sir," says the smooth voice at the back of the room.
Mr. Brown pulls out a sheet of paper from a drawer in his desk. "I expect for you to complete your assignment at home and bring it in tomorrow." He hands over a worksheet and then promptly dismisses Edward from both his class and his mind.
Edward stuffs the paper inside of his Trapper Keeper and backs away from the teacher's desk. While the people around me have their faces pointed down to their textbooks, mine is following Edward's departure. The door opens and he steps out into the empty hallway. For the briefest of seconds, his eyes connect with mine.
Then the door swings closed and he's gone.
Not having him there in class doesn't help my concentration. In fact, it makes things worse. I have nothing to do but wonder why he had to leave barely thirty minutes into the school day. My overactive imagination thinks up all sorts of scenarios, from doctor's appointments to tragic funerals. I find a new note in my locker later in the morning. I spread it open eagerly and read its contents.
Bella,
There is a small family matter I must attend to today. I won't be able to see you this afternoon as I had planned. I'm sorry. Perhaps tomorrow?
E.
I slip the note inside my pocket and practically float my way to third period. Edward had planned to see me this afternoon? But it's raining. That counts out meeting up at the meadow. So, what does this mean? Was he thinking of taking me to his house again? And if so, would he have taken me to his room and touched me like he did in English class?
My heart rate spikes at the thought.
I find my desk in U.S. History and shake my head at myself. Wow. I'm going crazy over a boy. I can't believe it. And here I thought I was immune.
The feelings I'm trying (and failing) to ignore bubble like a whirlpool inside of me throughout the rest of the day. A mountain of relief lifts off my shoulders once school lets out. I walk into my house and shrug out of my rain coat. Clouds hang thick outside, making the afternoon abnormally dark. I switch on the lights in the living room and move to the back of the house. I'm desperate to find something to keep my mind off of Edward. I sit down at the kitchen table and pull out my homework. It's done much too quickly. My mouth twists as I ponder over what I could do next. After some careful deliberation, it hits me.
Dinner.
That's what I'll do. I'll make a big dinner. Then I'll sweep and mop the floors. And clean out the refrigerator. I can even rearrange the pantry. That should occupy my time until I have to go to bed. Before I know it, tomorrow will be here and I'll finally get the chance to ask Edward about what was going on this morning. Either he'll say he was staring because he has strong feelings for me, or he'll confess to something slightly less romantic. Like, there was an ugly zit sprouting out of my chin and he couldn't pry his eyes away from that horror show.
Thirty minutes goes by. Steaks are sizzling on the stove. Dinner rolls are baking in the oven. I'm chopping vegetables for a salad when I hear the front door open and slam shut.
"Isabella!"
I flinch at the sound of my father's voice. It's barely 4:30. He never comes home this early from work.
I set down my knife and wipe my hands off before entering the living room. Dad is standing on the mat near the door, his hat dripping with moisture. At the sight of me, he pulls it off and hangs it on the coat rack. His eyes are granite-hard.
"Dad?" I drawl out in confusion.
He moves closer, his footsteps careful and deliberate. "I'm going to ask you a question. And I want you to tell me the truth. Do you understand me?"
"Yes."
"How did you get home from school yesterday?"
The question is like a punch to the gut. And judging by the tone of his voice, he already knows the answer. I can't lie my way out of this. Everything feels dry now. My mouth. My tongue. I try to redistribute some saliva but it isn't helping much. "I...I caught a ride," I answer hoarsely.
"With the Cullen boy?"
Reluctantly, I nod my head. I barely swallow down the lump lodged in my throat. "How did you know?"
"I bumped into an old buddy of mine this afternoon who works at your school. He happened to mention that he saw you and 'your boyfriend' together." Dad slowly releases his breath through his teeth. Once he is calmer, he presses on with the interrogation. "Why would you get into a car with him, Isabella?"
Since I'm unsure of how much he knows, I'm careful with how I respond. I don't want to dig myself a deeper hole by admitting more than I should. The answer I throw together leaves out quite a few important details. Like, how I went to Edward's house yesterday afternoon and listened to rock music in his room. "It was raining pretty hard...and Edward offered to take me home. I didn't see a reason why I should refuse, so I...got in."
Revulsion crawls over Dad's face. "What you did flies in the face of everything I've taught you. You know how I feel about teenage drivers. They're reckless. A hazard on the roads. If I could push the legal driving age up by a few years, I would. But since I can't, that means you have to avoid intentionally placing yourself into harm's way. You should never get inside of a car driven by someone who is barely old enough for a driver's license."
My eyes drop to the floor. "I'm sorry."
"Well, sorry doesn't cut it. It was raining yesterday. The streets were wet. Do you realize how many accidents I've been called to in the last few days? Ten. And that was with adult drivers. A teenager does not have the same degree of experience behind the wheel as a full grown adult."
"Edward was very careful. He drives responsibly," I mutter in his defense. "He never even went above the speed limit." ...In the city. Though he did go a little (or a lot) faster once we made it to that rural road leading to his house. But he never once made me feel unsafe.
"That's no excuse. He could have gotten distracted, ran off the road, and you would have been killed. You can't just hop into a car with some kid and think you're invincible." I hear Dad make a deep grunt of frustration. "I knew that Cullen boy was nothing but trouble."
My face jerks up. "That's not true."
He stares back quietly for several heartbeats. "What did you just say?"
My stomach flip flops. I've never openly contradicted something my father has said before. I usually bow my head, listen to his speech, and willingly accept whatever punishment he deems fit for me. But I cannot do that now. Hearing him badmouth Edward is too much to take.
"I said it's not true," I repeat using a clearer voice. "Edward isn't a troublemaker."
"I think I know the facts about him better than you do, Isabella." There's a definite warning in his voice, telling me to watch what I say or face the consequences.
I ignore it.
"You don't even know him."
"He disobeys the law. That's all I need to know," Dad grunts.
"Disobeys the law? All he did was have a few cassettes in his car, Dad! That shouldn't be a crime."
"Well, like it or not, it is a crime. If he doesn't want to follow the rules, he can leave town. I won't stop him. And I'll say good riddance if he does. He's a punk with no respect for authority."
"If he has no respect for authority, maybe it's because you haven't given him a reason to respect it in the first place," I mumble back.
Dad's face grows boiling red. I guess he heard that.
"See? This is exactly what I was talking about. Cullen comes waltzing into town, thinks he's above the law, and now he's gotten you talking back to me. Make no mistake about it: He is trouble. If you knew the things he's done in his past, you would understand why I wouldn't trust that kid farther than I can throw him."
In defiance, I fold my arms across my chest. "Then tell me. What has Edward done that's so terrible?"
"His parents died in a house fire a few years back. It's believed he was somehow involved."
I've heard people say this about Edward before. I've never believed it, and I especially don't buy it now after getting to know him. Would a boy who killed his parents have the gall to speak so openly (and tenderly) about them yesterday?
I don't think so.
I keep my voice steady and ask my dad a follow-up question. "OK. So you say there was a house fire. And what police agency told you this information?"
"I didn't hear it from a police department. He's a minor. His records are sealed. But Mrs. Romero came to the police station one day recently and told me the whole story. She was very helpful."
I'm so disgusted, I almost want to hurl. It takes all of my willpower not to call Charles Swan an idiot of epic proportions.
"Oh my god. You believed something Mrs. Romero told you? Just because she works at the post office doesn't mean you can trust what she says. She's the town's worst gossip. If she told me that the sky was blue, I wouldn't believe her unless I stuck my head outside and saw it for myself."
Dad turns up the glare. "Mrs. Romero is in the gardening club with Edward's adopted mother. So, I assume she received the information from Mrs. Cullen. I'm sure it's accurate."
I snort. "I seriously doubt Mrs. Cullen would tell some nosy busybody like Mrs. Romero anything about her son. She doesn't strike me as the dumb type. Anyway, I heard that same story the first day Edward showed up to school. It sounded just like the ridiculous rumors I've heard kids say about you." I arch my brow at him. "Did you know that you're not a police officer? You're actually an alien in disguise. Your mission here is to ban music globally. Once that's been accomplished, the mother ship will return to take you back to your home planet."
"This isn't a joke, Isabella."
"I know. And I'm not laughing. I'm trying to prove that you can't believe everything you hear about Edward. If you want the truth, why don't you go and ask him what happened yourself instead of automatically believing the worst?"
Dad's eyes narrow into slits. "Why are you defending him so much?"
"Because he's a good guy. Yet here you keep attacking him like some overgrown bully."
Dad's hand scrapes down his angered face. "That's it! You're grounded. That means no telephone or TV. And no going anywhere after school. It's straight there and back home until I can figure out what to do with you." He waves a dismissive hand towards the stairs. "Now, go to your room."
I move approximately three steps before my father adds more to my punishment. "And I better not hear your name connected to that Cullen boy ever again either."
My feet slam to a stop. It feels as though I've walked straight into a brick wall. Slowly, I twist around to face him. "What?" I can't articulate my disbelief any better than that at the moment.
"He's a bad influence on you, Isabella. Just look at how you're behaving. Talking back to your elders. Sneaking around behind my back. You are forbidden from hanging around him. Is that understood?"
White hot anger burns like lava through my veins. My dad wants to keep me away from Edward? But he's the closest thing to a friend that isn't a member of the AARP that I have left. Edward might even be more than a friend. For one terrible moment, I try to imagine what life would be like without him. There would be no more hearing him explain why a particular song playing from his boombox is a masterpiece. And I would never again see his heart-stopping smile, or smell his warm and pleasing scent.
And just like that, I make up my mind. I refuse to live in a world where I'm not allowed to even talk to Edward.
I have to stand up for myself.
I fist my hands at my sides, look Dad dead in the eyes, and drop a bomb. "No."
Dad stares back, completely unmoved. "Yes. My decision is final."
"You can't do this. I'm seventeen. I should be allowed to see who I want. I'm practically an adult. I'm not some little girl anymore."
"Well, if you acted like an adult, maybe I would treat you like one. You hanging around Cullen proves that you're not mature enough yet for me to trust your judgement. He's nothing but a no-good punk. So, you will stay away from him. End of story. This is my house, my rules."
I take note of Dad's unbending stance. My words of protest wither and die. This is a waste of time. There's no point in arguing with him. He wasn't lying when he said his decision is final.
Well... I've made a decision too.
My head lifts higher. I walk calmly upstairs and leave Dad behind. I throw open my closet door and stand on the tips of my toes. Out falls an old duffel bag from the top shelf. I pull open my chest of drawers and begin throwing in underwear and socks. In goes a pair of pajamas and some bras. Next, I make a quick trip to the bathroom to grab a few things. I'm sticking my toothbrush into a side pocket of the duffel bag when my dad pokes his head through the door.
"What are you doing?" he wonders.
I zip up the pocket before I answer him. "I'm packing a bag."
"Why?"
"Because you're right. I can't expect to stay here and not follow your rules. It wouldn't be fair to you. But I can't live like this anymore. I'm leaving."
"You're l-leaving..." He sputters his words, confusion written on his face. "Where would you even go?"
I walk over to the closet and pull some clothes off their hangers. "I have some cash saved up," I explain. Turns out not having much of a social life has kept me from blowing through my allowance money. While everyone else my age went out with friends on the weekends and stayed broke, I was cooped up at the house with only a book as company. Being the school pariah has its benefits too, I guess. "I think I'll get a room at the motel across town. I'll stay there until I can find something permanent."
He shakes his head. "No. That is unacceptable. The Forks Motel is not safe. You don't want to know what goes on over there. Half the people I have to arrest frequent that place."
"I'll be careful. I know how to lock a door."
"Isabella," he interjects, using an authoritative tone. "We both know this won't work out. You might have enough money to rent a room for the night but that won't last long. And what would you do about food? Those types of expenses add up fast. You'd be on the street before you know it."
"I'll be fine as long as I start looking for a job tomorrow."
"A part-time job won't be enough to support yourself."
"Then I'll get a full-time position. Or, two part-time jobs."
Dad frowns while watching me deposit more clothes into my bag. "You'd be working some long hours. How would you find the time to keep up with school? I don't want you to drop out." He releases a long, weary sigh. "Just... how about we cool down and talk about this some more?"
"There's nothing left to say."
"Dammit, listen to me! You don't understand the mistake you're making here. You have a lot of growing up to do before trying to live on your own."
I whip away from my duffel bag. "How can you expect me to ever grow up if you won't let me?"
"And what do you mean by that?"
"You treat me like a child regardless of what I do. I'm not allowed to wear makeup. I'm not allowed to drive. You've given me rule after rule, and for the most part, I have followed them without complaint. Then I make one friend you don't like and you ban me from seeing him. So, I tried talking to you like an adult about it and begged you to give Edward a chance. And what did you do? You refused to work with me and automatically disregarded everything I said. I guess I should have saved my breath. Why should I even try talking to you if I know you won't listen?"
His furrowed brow visibly softens. "I'm sorry. I was only doing what I thought was best for you."
"Yeah. I'm sure you thought you were. But don't you think it's time that I learn what's best for me?"
I pick up a wooden picture frame from my nightstand. The last Swan family photograph is something I've studied a lot over the past decade. There's Mom with her hair feathered to perfection. I was a giggling, gap-toothed seven year old sitting on her lap. And Dad sat beside her with a smile poking from underneath his thick mustache. He looked happy. We all did.
Then, a few weeks after this photo was taken, Mom was killed in a horrible traffic accident. Dad was never the same again. He became a shell of the man I once knew. Smiles and laughter were absent from our household from then on out.
"You say you want me to stay here, but you've never acted like it," I voice out loud. "We're more like strangers than family. We don't talk unless we have to. And the only time you come near me is when there's dinner on the table. Face it. Your job is the only thing you really care about now."
Dad winces as though I slapped him. "That's not true. I do care about you. It's just... hard to look at you without thinking about Renée. You've grown to be her spitting image. Sometimes you even sound like her."
I tear my eyes away from our family portrait and stare at my father in disbelief. "Is that why you pushed me away after she died? Because I look like Mom?"
His inability to speak answers my question.
I place the picture frame carefully into my duffel bag and zip it up. With the bag clutched in my hand, I pass around him and into the hallway. "I have to go."
"Wait!" he shouts.
I pretend to not hear him.
My feet skip two steps at a time down the stairs. I arrive at the front door and shove my arms into the sleeves of my rain jacket. Dad rushes to where I am and pants from the exertion he used to keep up with me.
"Isabella! Don't go. Please."
My fingers go still on the buttons of my jacket. I glance up at my father. "That's not my name," I inform him softly. "No one calls me that except for you. I am Bella. If you had ever bothered to get to know me, you would have found out a long time ago how much I hate being called Isabella."
I can see in his eyes how much my words sting.
I pull open the door and run out into the rain. It feels exhilarating. After years of being a doormat, I finally stood up to my father. Now I am on my own and ready to face the world. He can't force his views on me any longer.
I hang the duffel bag from my bike's handlebars and push it towards the street. The bike moves only a few feet before I realize this won't work. I can't pedal when there's a bulky duffel bag rubbing against the front wheel. I return the bike to the garage. I'll have to come back for it and the rest of my things some other time. For now, my plans for escape must be altered. There's a patch of woods behind the house with a little-used hiking trail. It links this area of town to the other. The trail makes a decent shortcut if you don't mind occasionally tripping over roots and other forest debris. I could be at the motel in half the amount of time it would take if I were to walk the streets.
I set off on my journey into the forest with my duffel bag swinging from a shoulder. It isn't long before the house is out of sight. Trees loom high above my head and filter out most of the evening's remaining daylight. It looks like I've stumbled into a world colored entirely in monochrome. The walk is chillingly quiet. All I hear are my feet crunching down on old leaves and the gentle patter of rain hitting the hood of my jacket. My eyes flick from right to left continuously, like windshield wipers on a car. A disturbing memory has resurfaced and is now taunting me. I was recently in a situation similar to this one. I was alone in a dark, foreboding place. At least...I thought I had been alone. I was proven wrong when that sexual predator James popped out of nowhere and began harassing me.
I roll my eyes at myself and press forward. This is stupid. I'm freaking out over nothing. James isn't here. He's long gone. The only things out in these woods at this moment are me and the mosquitos. I guess I need to stop reading so many horror stories. They fuel your paranoia a little too well...
"Bella."
My scream is so loud, the astronauts probably can hear it on the space shuttle orbiting the Earth.
I drop my duffel bag. A cold hand wraps around my upper arm, preventing me from running off like a scared rabbit. The hood of my jacket falls off my head.
"Shhh," someone breathes out. "It's only me."
My heart lurches in my chest...but in a good way. I recognize that voice. "Edward?"
I allow my eyes to drink him in. He's wearing his jean jacket but no rain coat. His wet hair is matted down to his scalp. Raindrops drip down his nose. He looks like a statue that was recently erected in a city park. I force myself to blink a few times. Then I examine him closely once again.
Nope, I'm not going crazy. Edward really is standing in front of me.
"Hello," he says.
My smile starts out small but quickly stretches to its full extent. Even though Edward has once again scared the everliving shit out of me, I'm not mad this time. I didn't think I would get to see him at all this afternoon. Maybe my luck isn't as bad as I had once thought.
"Hi. W-what are you doing out here?" I let out a tiny laugh. "This isn't the best day to go exploring the forest, Edward. Normal people wait for drier weather. It looks like you're swimming more than hiking."
He ignores my lame attempt at humor. "I needed to talk to you. I would have gone to your house, but I noticed the Chief's car was in the driveway."
I give a slight grimace. "Yeah, he came home early today." I shake off that unhappy reminder and try to bring back my smile. "So...what was it that you wanted to talk about?"
"I have some news I wanted to share with you." Edward's voice lowers in pitch. "I'm moving."
I squint in confusion, for sure I misheard him. "What? How could you be moving already? You and your parents just came to Forks last month."
"You don't understand. My parents are staying here. It's only me that's moving." He pauses to stare off into the distance. "They had hoped living in a small town would be good for me. That's why we came here in the first place. But it hasn't been. Forks stresses me more than relaxes. I don't like the town's music ban. I don't like most of the people here. I don't like how far away Forks is from city life. So long story short, this morning my brother called and offered to let me stay at his place in Boston. I can return to my old school, live in my old neighborhood..." Edward releases a long sigh, rigid shoulders dropping. "I can be myself there again."
A tightness builds up in my chest. In my head, I keep repeating, Edward is moving back to Boston. No matter how much I say it, the pain doesn't decrease. I didn't know he hated Forks that much. Maybe I'm being conceited, but I had thought our meetings in the meadow made up for the town's many defects. Guess I was wrong. That spark I felt at his touch this morning must have been one sided too if he can leave so easily.
"Oh." My voice quivers like Jell-O. I clear my throat in defense and prepare to lie my ass off. I don't want him to feel guilty for leaving town on my account alone. "I'm happy for you, Edward. Going back home sounds nice. When will you be leaving?"
"Tonight."
My heart forms another crack. "Tonight?"
Edward confirms it with a head nod. "I think my brother found out living by yourself isn't as great as it's cracked up to be. It gets lonely living in a big house all by yourself. He pushed my parents until they agreed to let me move back, and then everything came together in only a few hours. I'm catching a plane late tonight and should be in Boston by early morning. But I knew I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you. I hope you don't mind me coming by uninvited like this."
"It's OK. I'm glad you did. Will you...um, be coming back to visit anytime soon?"
Edward shakes his head. "I doubt it."
Tears threaten to spill from my eyes. I try to hold them in and fail spectacularly. My only blessing is that raindrops are splashing on my face too. It's perfect camouflage. Edward will never suspect I'm falling apart on the inside.
He steps forward to pull the hood of my jacket back over my head. The palms of his hands accidentally brush against both of my cheeks. Some of the rain and tear mixture is wiped away. In that brief moment, I close my eyes and enjoy his touch one last time. His hands are cool, like polished stone. Yet, somehow, they make my skin's temperature heat up instead of lowering. I would love to know how he does that to me.
I guess that will remain a mystery forever.
My head is once again protected against the elements. He moves back a step but his eyes stay on me. "May I ask a favor of you?"
"Yes," I whisper.
"Promise me you won't go to the meadow alone. Please take someone with you."
Without question, this is the easiest favor I will ever be asked. I have no plans on ever stepping foot into that meadow again. Edward has left his mark there permanently. It's not like graffiti that you can scrub away or paint over. Memories are much more difficult to remove. In my mind, it was our place. It would hurt deeply to be there without him. And I definitely wouldn't dare take someone else to the meadow. It would be a sacrilege to... whatever you would call our relationship.
"Sure. I guess I can promise you that," I mutter.
One corner of Edward's mouth curls up a fraction of an inch. "Good." His look of amusement vanishes quicker than it appeared. "I'm sorry I didn't finish teaching you how to dance."
"It's...fine. Really. You taught me a lot in just two lessons." I resurrect the tiniest of smiles in return. "Maybe you should look into being a dance instructor. You're very good at it."
The expression on his face is so raw, my half-broken heart flutters in reply.
"No. You were my first and last pupil. I'm not cut out for teaching anyone else." His eyes wander down to where my duffel bag has fallen to my feet. He lifts it up easily, as though it contains helium instead of a heap of clothes. "Come on. I'll walk you home."
My mouth begins to move in protest. I want to explain to him that I was leaving home. I can't go back there. But, not a sound comes out. I become aware of a cruel bit of reality. My dad demanded I stay away from Edward and I rebelled. And what good did standing up for myself do? It did nothing except teach me a valuable lesson: Even if I'm on the morally correct side of an issue, I will lose in the end. Edward is moving to the other side of the continent. I won't ever see him again.
I'm sure my dad will love to hear that news once it spreads around town.
The fight in me evaporates like a puddle of water in the desert. What's the point of living on my own now? I would be friendless and alone in some seedy motel room. At least if I go back home, I would be friendless and alone in a nice house. That sounds marginally better, I guess.
I follow silently behind Edward down the forest trail. Once the lights of the house are visible through the bushes, he turns in my direction and gives back my duffel bag. "Here we are," he announces. One of his hands slips into a pocket. "I forgot to mention this...but I hope you have a good time at the dance. And don't worry about what airheads like Heather might think about you. Just ignore them. You will do fine."
"OK. Thanks," I respond, so low I'm not sure if he heard. I couldn't care less about that stupid party now. Music reminds me of Edward. Dancing reminds me of Edward. Having fun reminds me of Edward...
"Well, I suppose that's everything. I better get going. It's a long drive to the airport." His eyes sweep over my face. I swear I can feel them. "Goodbye, Bella."
My throat closes up. I can barely force out the one word left to say. "Bye."
For a handful of seconds, neither of us moves. We're rooted in place, like the trees around us. Then, Edward takes a step back. And then another. Much too soon, he rotates around and walks into the gloom of the forest.
I don't look away until his silhouette disappears completely.
A heaviness settles in my heart and weighs me down. It takes nearly all my strength to begin walking towards the house. I allow exactly one tear to fall down my cheek before wiping the evidence away. Then my face empties of all expression. I call it my mask of indifference. I've worn it a lot during my life. Because with it firmly in place, no one will ever know how broken I am.
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A/N-
Well, don't look at me. All I did was write down what happened.
Next Chapter- I swear I'm not New Mooning you guys...very much. You'll see what I mean once you hear the other side of the story (though, I have a hunch you already have a good idea why Edward said what he did to Bella). Keep in mind the dance is coming up too. That means Todd will be returning whether you want him to or not. So... that should be interesting. (And, no. Todd isn't going to be the Jacob of this story.)
Thanks for reading! :-)