I know Angela is here before she even parks. Her music is blaring even louder than the memories that play over and over in her head. I grin to myself, as I prepare for her to talk my ear off.
I'm about to wave goodbye to Charlie when I find him standing uncomfortably by the couch.
How do I even say this? Should I say anything at all? I just want her to know that I'll always love her. Wholeheartedly.
Charlie's inner monologue has me frozen at the bottom of the staircase. I contemplate feeling alarmed, awkward or a combination of the two. What is he going on about?
"Bells, do you have a few minutes?" he finally asks.
I peek out the window and see Angela looking with curiosity. I signal to her that I'll be out in a minute. "Um, sure, Dad. Is everything okay?"
"Absolutely!" He says it too loud and I flinch. "I mean, yes, yes of course. Wh-why would you think otherwise?"
It's not often I see Charlie at a loss for words and I feel my stomach turn with unease. "You're making me nervous. Just spit it out."
He huffs a sigh and ruffles the hair at the base of his skull. "Alright, Bella, honey, sweetheart..."
I brace myself. His mind is reeling so fast I feel like I'm having whiplash.
He pulls out a crumpled up piece of paper. It's a pamphlet? Oh, shit. "I found this in your room yesterday. I was wondering if you wanted to talk about it."
Goddamnit, Ang. What were you thinking? "It's not what you think."
"Now, now, Bells." He reaches out for my hand before I can think to pull it back out of reach. I'm seeing him emptying the trash bin in my room and picking out the old booklet and there is no mistaking its purpose.
A Resource Guide to Coming Out.
"I don't want you to feel that you have to hide this from me. I know it must be hard to talk about, but you'll always be my little girl. I love you regardless of your sexual orientation."
"You don't have to worry about that. Really."
He starts rubbing circles in my palm and I try to keep my cool as I'm engulfed by the immense yearning he has for my mother to be here. He feels he is inadequate in having this conversation without her. "You don't need to pretend around me, I understand. I think it's wonderful that you've found a partner in Angela."
My eyes are bulging out their sockets by this point. "What?!"
"I only ask that we make some rules about having her over. Maybe leaving the door open while she's here, firstly."
"Dad." The tone in my voice startles him and I take advantage of his momentary silence. "I'm not gay."
He removes his hand and I release the tension in my shoulders as his projected emotions fade. "You're not? Then why—"
"It was a prank," I say as I take the pamphlet back. "Angela thought it was funny, that's all. I'm sorry to get you so worked up."
Angela honks the horn impatiently from outside.
"I'm sorry, but I have to go." I readjust the bag on my shoulder. "I'm late. Can we talk about this later?"
Charlie, at a loss for words yet again, opens and closes his mouth. He's shifting through too many questions, when he just waves his hand and I take that as my cue to dash out the door.
"What was that about?" Angela asks as I slam the door closed. "We're going to be so late today."
Closing my eyes, I let out a groan.
"What's wrong?"
I glare at her and she does a double-take. "I hate you."
She scoffs. "Correction. I hate you. You didn't answer when I called you last night."
Not even bothering to address her comment, I go on. "Do you even know what kind of torture I had to encounter this morning?"
She lifts a brow quizzically. "What, with Charlie? What did he do?"
"He thinks you and I are dating."
Angela throws her head back against the headrest, her whole body shaking with laughter.
"Okay, this stupid idea of yours?" I wave around the said booklet. "Has officially become a giant pain in my ass." I throw it angrily out the window.
"Hey!" she sobers up a little. "That's littering."
"Relax, Mother Teresa. Paper is biodegradable."
Angela spends the rest of the ride mocking our presumed relationship and I scowl the whole time.
I liven up when Angela pulls into the lot and it's almost completely full.
"We'll have to make a run for it," she says.
"Let's do it."
We get out of the car and Angela nearly rips my pinky off as she takes off in front of me.
"Slow down," I yelp between pants of breath. "Not everyone runs recreationally, you know."
"You should," she responds evenly as if she's totally unfazed by sprinting through the lot and down the hall. "It's good for you."
We rush into Calculus just as the bell rings and everyone stares as we take our seats, Angela giggling and me gasping desperately for air.
Our first two classes pass by uneventfully. When it's time for us to go our separate ways, Angela lets go of my hand and I head toward my next class alone. Or at least I think I'm alone when Mike Newton, a lanky blond boy who sits behind me in Spanish, hurries to match my pace next to me.
"Hey, it's Bella, right?"
I give him a bewildered look. "Yeah?" It comes out sounding like a question.
"So, are you and that Angela girl a couple?"
Why does everyone think we're gay? Before I can even respond, he says, "It's totally cool, I just thought she was dating that senior kid. Ben Cheney, I think?"
When I don't say anything, he continues. "Is it a threesome type deal?"
Just go along with it, Bella. Maybe he'll go away if you agree. "Sure."
Mike's eyes go wide. "Seriously?"
"Yep. We're in a polyamorous sex cult." That seems to do the trick as he stops walking and I'm able to continue on without any distractions.
Soon enough it's time for lunch and I make my way over to mine and Angela's table. I'm surprised to find she isn't there. She normally beats me here.
I don't have to wait too long as I hear her approaching from behind me.
"Bella, honey." She places the tray of food down in front of her and I choke back my amusement. "Question for you."
I look at her expectantly, but she keeps her composure.
"Why are you telling people we're in a polyamorous sex cult?"
The minute it's out of her mouth, I burst into a fit of obnoxious cackling. "You know, what? I was being sarcastic at first, but, it's really starting to grow on me. I find it quite entertaining."
She thumps down into her seat and sighs. "Is this your way of getting back at me for what happened this morning? Because I've already apologized."
"You didn't, actually," I remind her. "But now that you mention it, I forgive you."
Angela's about to retort something sardonic when someone approaches the table.
"Is this seat taken?"
Angela stares, her mouth hanging open like a fish. I have to reach over and shut it for her.
"Not at all," I say.
Edward Cullen sits in the chair across from us with an apple and a soda in hand.
"Edward, this is Angela. Ang, this is Edward."
She waves, but not before giving me a smug look. Did Isabella Swan actually take my advice?
After shaking my head, my hint to her to shut up, she wipes her stupid grin off her face and focuses back on Edward. "Hi."
He nods his head in a greeting. "Hello. It's very nice to meet you."
"You as well."
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Edward says, clearly observing our silent conversation.
"Of course not." I move my hand away as I see Angela reaching to take it. It's more of a reflex now that we've been doing it for so long. But the idea of adding Edward to the list of people mistaking us for a romantic couple might be the thing that pushes me over the edge. "It's kind of a long story anyway."
"Bella's father thinks we're lesbians," Angela pipes in and I throw her another incredulous expression.
"Okay, never mind. Guess it's a short one."
Edward says nothing, but his amusement is clear.
"I'm glad you find this funny," I say to Angela. "I almost died of embarrassment.
"I think it's endearing," she says. "It means he loves you no matter what. It shows he can handle whatever you throw at him. Maybe you should consider opening up to him more."
I already know where her mind is headed and I kick her shin under the table, ignoring the glare she sends my way. "I'm confused. So, you don't mind Charlie thinking we're together, but you've got a problem with a couple of kids thinking we're together?"
"I don't mind people thinking we're dating," she rebukes. "What I mind, is being accused of actively participating in a sex cult!"
Hearing the words again, I can't help giggle to myself.
"Ben's going to be upset when he finds out," she mutters under her breath.
With a roll of my eyes, I say, "Doubt it. That boy is so head over heels for you, he'd happily agree to rumors of being a crossdresser if it made you happy."
"For what it's worth," Edward begins, "I find it all very trivial. I'm sure everyone will find some other truth to twist around to their benefit shortly."
Angela gives him a grateful look. "Let's hope. So, where are you from, Edward?"
When he tells her he's from Alaska, she goes on a tangent about some vacation she took with her family once. As she talks, I feel the hairs at the back of my neck stand up.
Turning around, I see the four kids Edward arrived with on his first day. They sit, unmoving and they are staring right at us. From far away, their eyes look almost black.
"Bella?"
I snap back to the table. Angela is looking at me with concern. "Yes?"
"Are you alright?" she asks.
"Of course." I turn my attention to Edward. "Are you sure you don't want to sit with them? They look a little jealous."
He smiles as he looks back at the table behind ours. "Don't worry. They're just a bit overprotective."
Not for the first time, I wonder what exactly is going on inside his head.
The bell rings and I take note that Edward has only taken a single bite out of his apple before tossing it in the trash.
"I guess I'll see you in Bio?"
With a glance toward the group behind us, (still staring) he says, "As it happens, you won't."
I lift my brow at him. "You're ditching? Again?"
With a small chuckle, he responds, "I'm sure I won't miss much. You can tell me all about it tomorrow." And then he passes us, leaving Angela and I to gawk after him.
When he's out of earshot, Angela turns to face me. "When were you going to tell me about him?"
"You didn't give me a chance! You were too busy fantasizing about Ben."
"Which reminds me," she starts, "I never told you about what happened last night."
"Guess we've got a lot to catch up on." I shoulder my messenger bag and follow her out of the cafeteria. "Will you stay for dinner tonight? We can talk then."
"You bet. I'll see you later, B."
As I head into the classroom, I remind myself that I prefer to be alone and that I'd gone two weeks without a lab partner. I could make it one more day.
However when I see what's waiting for me at the table, I beg to differ.
It's a stack of reaction plates, a plastic dropper and a small needle.
Blood typing.
An image of myself lying on the asphalt flashes before me, making my breath catch. I'm suddenly reliving my recurring dream. My chest feels tight and there are goosebumps all over my arms.
My hand automatically goes to my throat. Nothing is stifling me, but I feel as if I'm suffocating.
"Isabella?" It's Mr. Banner's voice I hear speaking to me, but it is not who I see in front of me. It's Charlie and he's got a busted lip and there's chips of broken glass all over his clothes. "Are you feeling sick?"
Charlie reaches out to touch me and I all but fly out of my seat. My heart is in my throat. I've found the obstruction. It's my own heart, beating inside my esophagus that prevents me from taking the breath I need.
"Can I have someone walk Isabella to the nurse's office?" Charlie's figure shimmers and evolves back into Mr. Banner.
I turn, waiting desperately for someone to take pity on me. But the room is suddenly empty. And in the middle of the floor is my corpse. Matted brown locks cover my face and catch the blood pooling from my head and nose.
Stepping back, I run into the whiteboard. I'm blindly searching for the door, unable to look away from the sight in front of me.
Stupidly wondering how things could get any worse, I watch as the body rises into sitting position. Her elbow is bent at an unnatural angle. She lifts her head and I see one of her eyes is almost swollen completely shut. Her lips part and a horrible croaking sound escapes them.
"Help me."
My brain finally regains control of my feet and I'm dashing out of the room towards the football field.
It's pouring outside. Not something I normally appreciate, but when the droplets hit my face it's like poking a hole in a balloon. Except the balloon is my lungs and instead of deflating, I'm finally able to inhale the cold air.
There are black spots in my vision and I feel woozy. I sit, not caring that my pants are immediately soaked from the grass.
I'm faintly aware of the steel bleachers in front of me rattling, but I'm too flustered to care.
"Bella?"
The voice sounds all too familiar, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I'm afraid to find I'm still hallucinating.
When I don't hear it again, I tell myself it was just another delusion.
I open my eyes in time to see Edward Cullen reaching out to me.
Standing quickly, I dart away from him and immediately regret it. The ground beneath me starts to spin and I fight to not vomit all over my shoes. "Don't touch me. Please, I can't."
"You're alright, Bella." His voice is soothing, melodic. Nothing makes sense.
"I just can't," I repeat.
"It's okay. I won't touch you."
I begin to tilt backward, and let the inertia take me to the ground in a sitting position. "I just need a minute."
"Just breathe, Bella." Edward sits across from me on the grass, giving me a decent amount of space between us. "You're having a panic attack. Just let it run its course. You're almost through it."
I can only nod as another wave of nausea comes over me and I stick my head in between my knees.
"I should really get you to the nurse before you catch a cold."
That's right. It's raining. "No."
"No?"
Shaking my head, I say, "Nurse is too touchy. I don't want to be touched."
"How about I take you to my car?" he offers. "We're not too far from the lot."
Experimentally, I raise my head. The ground has finally decided it's finished playing ring around the rosie. "Okay."
"Do you think you can walk?" He extends his hand, then shoves it in his pocket when he remembers I won't take it.
Using my knees, I push myself up onto my feet. I lose my footing for a second, but then I'm steady.
Edward matches my pace as we head through the field and come out on the opposite side of the parking lot. He leads me to a shiny Volvo and opens the passenger door for me. The interior is a dark gray and it smells like a mix of lilac, honey and sunshine.
I sit down and watch as he gracefully walks to the other side and crouches into the driver's seat. "I thought you were ditching."
He snorts under his breath. "I am."
"Oh," I say dumbly.
It's quiet for a moment. Then Edward turns and says, "Would you like me to take you home?"
"No!" My answer comes out hasty and panicked, but it doesn't seem to faze him. "It's just Charlie. He tends to jump to conclusions. I don't want to worry him."
"I understand. Would you like me to take you anywhere else?"
After a moment's thought, I say, "No. This is fine. I normally ride home with Angela. I'd rather not bother her either."
"It seems you two are good friends." He smiles when I agree and I find myself mesmerized by his amber-colored eyes. "You should know that asking for help is not a nuisance to those closest to you."
I know that he's right. But I think of how excited she was to tell me all about her promise ring. And this morning, she had wanted to tell me about how she'd "went all the way" as she worded it in her head. Knowing that I'm the reason she didn't get a chance to share that with me, and all the times before then. She has always been there for me, but I have never reciprocated it.
Eventually, I find my voice. "Thank you for saying that."
"Would you like to talk about it?"
My fingers patter against my jeans nervously. "We were supposed to draw blood today in Bio." Even saying it makes me shudder. "I think it just threw me off guard. I've been a little sensitive to blood, lately." I blink away images of a destroyed Chevy pickup.
Edward picks up on my unease and changes the topic. "How about some music? What do you listen to?"
"Um…" I can't believe I'm drawing a blank. All I can focus on is the smell of sunshine and golden brown eyes locking onto mine.
He hands me an aux cord. "What was the last thing you were listening to?"
Fumbling in my back pocket, I pull out my cell phone and open the music app. I try not to feel embarrassed when I press play.
Paramore's Last Hope plays quietly through the speakers. I don't expect him to know it, but there's no way of knowing for sure as I examine his expression.
"This song means a lot to you." It's not a question he asks, but more of an observation.
"It does," I say. "Though, I didn't pick it on purpose. It's a happy accident we're listening to it now."
Edward doesn't respond. He only leans his head back and closes his eyes as if he's really trying to hear every word.
All of a sudden, I feel very exposed and remove the aux cord from my phone. When Edward looks up at me, I hand it back to him. "Let's listen to what you have."
He plays a song I recognize. Debussy's Clair de Lune. He seems impressed when I voice my thoughts.
"My mother used to play music like this while we cleaned the house in Arizona." I chuckle to myself as I remember dancing with her in the kitchen, barefoot. "I miss those days."
He successfully keeps me distracted for the rest of the day with his eclectic taste in music. We moved on from classical to jazz. And from jazz to the blues.
When we see students filing out from the building, he stops the music and meets my gaze. "Are you feeling better now?"
I nod my head. "Yes, thank you." I move to exit the car, and stop halfway. "Will I see you in class tomorrow?"
As if he were waiting for me to ask, he laughs and says, "I'll save you a seat."
I can't help the ear splitting grin that stretches across my face as I step out of the Volvo.
Tomorrow, I think to myself and make my way through the crowd to find Angela. We've got a lot to catch up on.
