Chapter 3- Chemistry Of A Car Crash
January 25, 2005
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The sun is directly above me, sending its balmy heat down as I lay on the blanket in my backyard. The warm rays feel so good on my skin that I don't bother covering myself or even applying sunscreen. This is a pretty risky move on my part. My skin doesn't tan. It boils. My poor, pale flesh goes from ghost white to lobster red in fifteen minutes flat. There's never an in-between. But right now, I don't care about that at all. I'm enjoying the warmth too much to worry about what may happen to me in the future.
My eyes are partly open as I admire the view around me. The sky above is a beautiful azure blue- cloudless and perfect. In my periphery, I can see the tops of the mountains that surround Phoenix. They're not gigantically tall by any means. Rounded and worn down by the winds of past dust storms and time, the mountains are colored in various shades of brown. Cinnamon. Mocha. Tan. Beige. Colors that belong to the desert. Colors that evoke warmth and relaxation.
Overall, life here is nice and comfortable. No matter the time of year, it feels like this. But it's not just the nice weather that makes life here perfect. It's everything about this place. It's the way you can sometimes hear the coyotes howling late at night. It's how when the sun sets, the desert sands compliment and enhance the sky's colors. It's the towering cacti and scrub brush that decorate the landscape. It's knowing that, even though I will eventually have to get up from this blanket, that I can always come back tomorrow and resume my sun bathing if I want.
To put it simply- this is home.
Through my half lidded eyes, I see a shadow creeping across the sky. With a surge of dread tingling up my spine, my eyes fly open as I helplessly watch what's coming. Sinister slate-black clouds roll in from all four directions, quickly blocking out the sun and smothering its warmth. At the same time, cold winds begin to blow in from the north, making my teeth chatter. The tank top and shorts that I wear offer no protection from the freezing temperatures. And, on top of that, the bright, cheery daylight that had previously lit up my backyard has vanished. Now, a dull, lifeless gray atmosphere surrounds and chokes me, it's dreariness leeching out the happiness from everything it touches.
I jump up from my blanket and plan to run to my house in order to escape, but instead of my bare feet meeting the desert gravel and dirt from my backyard, something grabs at my feet and refuses to let go. In a panic, I glance down to find that my feet are stuck in mud. It's wet and slimy and disgusting. Even worse, I discover that the more I struggle to free myself, the more I sink. Now uncontrollably hyperventilating, I realize how much trouble I'm in.
Desperate for help, I look towards my home and see Mom through the living room window. She's curled up on the couch with Phil as they watch something on TV. They're cuddling and smiling, clearly enjoying themselves. She doesn't seem to know what's going on just a few feet away from the window.
My mouth opens and I scream and scream, urgently trying to catch her attention. But, Mom never turns her head. She doesn't see how I'm suffering. She is in her own world right now. Happy and carefree. And she can't hear me at all.
As my body sinks down further and further away from everything that I love, I realize that struggling is useless.
I'm on my own.
No one can help me now.
My eyes snap open wide.
I gasp for air as I rocket up into a sitting position. I soon see that I'm on a bed- not sinking into a muddy black hole. Still, I can't help but make a quick examination of myself to make sure that I'm OK.
And I am.
None of that was real, I tell myself. It was only a nightmare.
I'm relieved until I take a good look around me. First, I notice that the walls of my room aren't that lilac purple that Mom and I painted them two years ago- instead they are a light blue. All of the framed pictures and posters I've bought through the years are gone, too. And, sitting atop of a shabby wooden desk is an ancient desktop computer that Bill Gates probably made back when he was tinkering around with electronics during his college days.
Reality slowly hits me.
This isn't home.
I live in Forks now.
Nope... I'm not OK after all. I'm definitely still experiencing a nightmare. And this is one bad dream that I won't be waking up from anytime soon.
With a frustrated sign, I heave myself out of bed and stretch my arms above my head. I glance at my clock and see that I woke up five minutes earlier than normal. I go ahead and flick the alarm switch off before it beeps.
While I continue to wake up, I vaguely notice that the light seeping in through my window is highly unusual today. It's a weird, glowing white that hurts my eyes a little. This is a lot different than the drab gray that you would normally see in the morning here on the Olympic Peninsula. And, even weirder than that, there's no sounds coming from outside. There's no wind blowing against the side of the house. The tree in front of my window is completely still. But, strangest of all, the normally relentless sound of the rain as it hits the roof is absent.
It's quiet.
Almost peaceful...
And I know that there has to be something wrong about this. Something very, very wrong...
Ordinarily, I would be thrilled by this development. No rain usually makes for a happier day. But, common sense tells me to go investigate further before I put on my party hat and celebrate.
I walk over to the window and shove open its lacy curtains. Then I groan. Every tree in sight shimmers with thousands of icy crystals clinging to their branches. My truck's roof and hood have a dusting of snow, sprinkled around like confectioners sugar on a cake. The windshield is covered, too. I'll have to clear away all that snow before I can even think about driving to school. But worse of all, I notice that the sidewalk and road are coated with a thick crust of ice.
Sometime during the night, all that rainwater that came down yesterday froze into this mess. So now, not only will I be forced to trudge through subarctic temperatures, I will also be risking my life trying to maneuver around on slippery sidewalks.
I was not made for living in conditions like this. I have a hard enough time walking on dry, ice-free ground without tripping. I'm going to break my leg the second I put my foot on the driveway.
I think that the Forks welcome sign should come with a warning disclaimer. Something like, "Caution: You thought this place was bad when it's raining? Just wait until winter. P.S. Don't bother getting out of bed if you are accident prone."
I should ask Charlie if the medical facilities here are adequate enough for someone like me. I'm sure the Forks General Hospital will be seeing me a lot if this is what I'll be forced to deal with. Maybe I should send them an advance warning to prepare for a clumsy girl that accidentally cuts herself and breaks bones when she falls. They would probably appreciate it.
After a quick journey to the bathroom, I throw open my closet door to pick out a thick sweater and random pair of jeans. Right before I leave my room, I scoop up my things for school from the desk. And there, right on top, is my Biology textbook.
A second later, my head is filled with thoughts of an emerald-eyed boy with a soothingly deep voice and engaging grin. A boy that leaves me tongue tied one minute and spilling my guts the next.
Shaking those thoughts from my mind, I race downstairs to the kitchen to grab something to eat for breakfast. Charlie's already gone to work for the day, leaving me to fend for myself until he gets home this evening. I dig out a clean bowl and grab a box of Lucky Charms from the pantry to power me through the day. I mean, it should be able to do that since it has enough added sugar to make a diabetic go into shock. Plus, they are called Lucky Charms. And I'll need all the luck I can get today.
I pry the box open and grab the plastic packaging of the cereal. I pull and pull and pull to try to open it, but it's like General Mills decided to package their cereal in titanium now. It won't budge at all. At their board meetings, do they sit around and gloat at how they've made it impossible for a seventeen year old girl to open a bag of kid's cereal?
I know that I should just go find some scissors, cut the plastic bag open, and stop wasting so much time. But I don't like to admit defeat. I want to do this myself. I take a big breath of air and I pull with a little more force than before. A split second later, I hear a small popping sound and the plastic rips half way down one of its sides. A multicolored shower of marshmallow charms rains down and scatters across the kitchen floor.
I take a minute to evaluate the situation.
This is a definite sign that I should march straight back to bed...
With irritated muttering bordering on cursing, I clean up the mess from the floor. When I eventually sit down to eat my cereal, I'm soon disappointed. After all that hassle, the Lucky Charms aren't very satisfying. They don't even taste magically delicious.
I should have made scrambled eggs instead.
After breakfast is over, I throw on my coat and zip it up nearly to my throat. I know as soon as I open the front door that a blast of freezing air will hit me and transform me from ordinary teenage girl to human icicle. Resigned to my frozen fate, I step outside and my feet start slipping on the iced up steps. My hands latch on to the rail while I silently curse this place to the darkest pits of hell.
After painstakingly shuffling my feet inches at a time to keep from falling down, I finally make it to the relative safety of the yard. I brush off the layer of icky white stuff on the windshield of the truck and then climb into the cab. Before I turn the ignition, I take a second to mentally prepare myself. I'm a little nervous about driving today. Back in Phoenix, the only time I ever worried about ice was when I drove Mom's car while simultaneously sipping on a Slurpie from 7-Eleven. Today, on the other hand, I will be driving down a road that is basically nothing more than an ice cube with painted yellow lines. I'll be lucky if I don't slide right off the street and straight into a tree today.
I rev up the engine and carefully back out of the yard. My fingers nervously dig into the steering wheel as I drive down the road. What I see does not comfort me. The further I distance myself from the house, the more skid marks I notice. A lot of people besides me must be having a tough time driving today. I even witness an old blue-haired woman almost skid her Cadillac into a small ditch before she managed to regain control.
As for my own driving, I gradually notice that the truck is handling the journey better than I expected. It's almost like there's no ice on the road at all. The ride is pretty smooth and uneventful. Sure, the truck makes funny noises and sometimes puffs of black smoke come out of the tailpipe, but this is completely normal for a vehicle that's older than Charlie. I glance at the dashboard and see that I'm even running a few minutes early. For the span of ten seconds, I am content for once.
Five seconds after that, I get a good glimpse of the school. And I moan in supreme agony.
The school looks worse than the nightmare I had this morning. Huge patches of ice are spread throughout the student parking area. I try to find a parking spot where there's not as much ice, but I soon realize that it's impossible. The area is more skating rink than parking lot. As if to prove my point, I see dozens of students hanging out towards the rear of the lot where the ice is in larger patches. Most are laughing as they try to walk across the concrete without slipping. A few have fun as they run and slide across the ice while wearing nothing but ordinary shoes and sneakers.
I half expect to see some girl in a tacky sequined outfit gliding around on the ice accompanied by judges holding up her score. I wouldn't be surprised if I see Tonya Harding out here bawling over her unlaced ice skates.
This is not good for me. Not good at all...
Most of the kids seem thrilled with all of the ice and wintry fun. As for myself, I'm really not looking forward to doing a triple klutz in front of everyone.
I give up on trying to find a good spot and park in a random place. After shutting the engine off, I grab my things from the seat, fling the driver's side door open, and look down. My lips curl up contemptuously as I examine the icy pavement up close. It is my mortal enemy. Its mission- to humiliate me in front of the entire school. But I refuse to allow that to happen to myself. I can do this, I think.
With fierce determination, I drop my legs out of the truck and my boots hit the concrete.
Then my feet slide out from under me.
Frantically, I flail my arms around like a crazy person, hoping to catch myself on something before I fall and crack my skull open. And as luck would have it, my fingers do grab onto something before I hurt myself. I'm now clinging for dear life to the truck's door frame. I pull myself up into a standing position and take a quick survey of my general area. I hope that no one noticed my almost fall. That would be embarrassing. I wasn't able to take even one step before I almost fell in front of everyone...
I glance to my left and notice that something is shining on my back tire. It's a little beacon that's catching what little daylight we have and reflecting it back at me. A surge of curiosity builds up inside of me as I stand here. After a few seconds of thought, I realize that the only thing it could be are snow chains. Charlie must have gotten up at the crack of dawn to put them on. This revelation blows my mind.
He was worried that I would crash and die on the icy, hazardous streets today.
And he did it without me having to even ask...
A lump forms in my throat.
Charlie has never been overly demonstrative of his feelings. I know that he loves me and he knows that I love him, but we don't go around broadcasting it. We just know. We don't need to say the actual words.
I'm not sure how he wound up with Mom. She's a huge hugger. And she believes that you need to say "I love you" to someone every few minutes just so they don't forget how you feel.
This is probably one of the reasons why their marriage didn't last very long.
But, this... The fact that Charlie went out of his way to attach snow chains on my truck's tires in the freezing cold tells me more about how he feels than a hundred hugs ever could.
Without another thought, I begin to move towards the rear of the truck. I want to see the snow chains for myself. I hold on tightly to the truck's door frame and begin to shimmy my way to the back. Unfortunately, it's slow going. My feet can only move a few inches at a time if I don't want to wind up slipping and falling.
"Having trouble today?" croons a deep voice from beside me.
My body simultaneously flinches and my feet come out from under me. Again. But this time I lose the grip I had on the truck's frame. I realize that I'm going down. And there's absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.
But instead of meeting the cold, wet concrete, I feel a pair of large hands catch me by my shoulders. As they push me back up, I see a mop of untamed bronze hair. My eyes travel downwards from that head of hair until I meet Edward Masen's troubled face staring back at me.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," he tells me, somehow managing to sound both soothing and sorrowful at the same time.
After I'm fully erect and he releases the firm grasp he had on my shoulders, I immediately turn away from him so I can grab onto the truck frame. That's when it dawns on me that I almost busted my butt. In broad daylight. With Edward standing two feet away. And he had to catch me because, apparently, I am a hopeless klutz.
Bye, bye pride. It was nice knowing you...
For a moment, a stray thought pops into my head. I wonder if the Cullen family normally sneaks up on random people just so they can catch them when they fall? Alice did it to me last Wednesday, and now her adopted brother does it today. Maybe they have some weird fetish where they feel the need to go around saving people. Like superheroes or something. Or, maybe they're just really, really bored. This is Forks after all.
After attempting to regather the few scraps of dignity I have left, I peek behind my shoulder and notice that he has taken a step back. His mossy green eyes keep cautiously flicking up and down as he watches me, like he's making sure that I'm not going to collapse into a heap the second his back is turned. Which, to be completely honest, is very likely considering my track record for today.
But he doesn't need to know that...
"You didn't," I claim, holding my head up high. A breeze blows a strand of hair in my face and it tickles my nose until I tuck it behind my ear. "I was just caught off guard." My theory is, if you state something confidently enough, nearly anything will sound convincing. I almost believed it myself.
The tiny frown that had been on Edward's face vanishes. A few seconds later, one corner of his mouth cocks up into a lopsided smile. "I came over to see if you needed any help. It seemed like you were having a rough time of it."
At the sight of that smile, my brain cells start to faint from lack of oxygen. I whirl my upper torso away from that deadly grin on the pretext of needing to close my truck's door. I take a calming breath before I face him again. "Really, it's fine. It's just a little slippery." Then, as I say these reassuring words, my foot slips on a patch of ice. Because God obviously is a strong supporter of ironic humor.
I make a desperate lurch towards the truck's side mirror to catch myself before I fall, but Edward's right there catching me again before I can comprehend what's happening. I feel his hands enveloping my shoulders as he pushes me back into a standing position. But even when I'm back on my own two feet, he doesn't let go. My eyes confusedly blink a few times as I try to clear my head, then I take a look at him.
"Yes, it is a little slippery," he says with a touch of laughter in his tone. "And I think you may need a little help."
He's standing there with a huge grin on his face. Even the corners of his eyes are crinkled a little. And speaking of his eyes... They are bright and sparkling as he stares down at me. He looks happy. Almost like he-
A second later, my eyes narrow at him.
He thinks this is funny.
Watching an uncoordinated girl that can't walk five inches without making a fool of herself must be a laugh riot. I guess he gets a kick out of watching old ladies that fall and can't get up, too.
My eyes flash up at him, highly annoyed by the fact that he was still grinning at me like I'm some clown that falls for the laughs. "This isn't funny," I hiss at him.
He presses his lips together, hiding that amused smile, as he exaggeratedly nods his head up and down. "I agree," he tries to tell me with a straight face, but I can easily see the laughter making his eyes dance. "It really isn't funny that you refuse-"
A loud screeching sound drowns out whatever he was about to say. His attention snaps away from teasing me and he turns to face the nearby street. I follow his gaze until I spot a dark blue van skidding across the parking lot. Almost transfixed by what is going on, I stand rooted in place as I watch it race, closer and closer, towards us.
Just as I realize that the van might hit the back of my truck, strong arms wrap around my waist and I'm hoisted off my feet. Since quick movements sometimes make me dizzy, I'm unsure of what is exactly going on. All I know is that my body is being pressed into the front of a hard chest as I'm being limply dragged around like a rag doll.
A horrible crash thunders into my ears and a tiny, surprised yelp comes from my throat. Not even a whole second later, I feel gravity bringing me down. My fingers instinctively dig into the jacketed chest as though it were a lifeline- as though it would save me. I prepare myself for the feel of the intense pain I will no doubt be experiencing at any moment once I hit the concrete.
But, I never feel a thing.
Dazedly, I blink my eyes for a few seconds. I gradually focus on Edward's face positioned several inches away from mine. His eyes are clamped shut. A tiny voice inside of my head tells me that he was the one that picked me up and that he fell while he was carrying me. As I'm forming the words to ask if he's alright, his eyes fly back open and he stares back at me with a confused look slapped on his face. He's not talking, but at least he seems uninjured. He's not writhing in pain as far as I can tell.
With only inches separating us, I notice things about him that had bypassed all of my previous observations of him. His eyelashes are a shade or two darker than the hair on his head. His nose is straight and evenly proportioned, reminding me of some Renaissance era statue you might see in the Louvre. Yet what fascinates me the most are the eyes. Always his eyes, it seems. Swirls of dark jade mingle inside of the sea of emerald green, sparkling brightly despite the lack of sunlight.
Like I said, he seems OK to me. But, as for me, I'm definitely not OK. Because, the longer I sit here staring into the warm sea green of his irises, the more dizzy I feel.
Breaking through my thoughts, I notice Edward move his head and wince a little. Whatever anger I may have felt towards him earlier frizzles out and disappears entirely. I can only feel my guilty conscience tugging for my attention now. And all I can think of is that he thought he was helping me, and he wound up hurting himself in the process.
I am a jinx.
Not only do I inflict suffering upon myself, I draw it towards any bystander that has the misfortune of being too close to me. I should banish myself away from society before I accidentally bring down the entire human race with my clumsiness and bad luck.
Besides, that stupid van was going to hit the back of the truck. I would have been fine where I was. Edward hurt himself for no reason...
I tear my focus away from his piercing gaze and guiltily squeeze my eyes shut. I take a moment to try to settle myself back down. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, I roughly swallow and reopen my eyes.
"You shouldn't have done that," I tell him, looking him straight in the eye.
I'm met with only mystified, blinking green eyes for a short time, almost like he cannot speak. Just when I'm starting to worry that he injured himself worse than I thought, he finally says something. "Excuse me?" he asks with knitted brows.
"The van. It was going to hit the back of my truck. We were at the front. I would have been fine where I was," I try to explain.
His eyebrows scrunch together even more as he stares back at me. "You would rather that I had risked both of our lives with just the hope that it would only hit the back of your vehicle and not us?"
Before I can fully absorb what he said, a voice interrupts from nearby, diverting my attention. "Edward!" the clearly feminine voice yells
The sound forces me to look around for the first time since this all started. I see nothing but chaos all around us. Students and teachers are rushing around frantically towards a crushed van thirty feet away. People are yelling as they try to remove the driver. And, I notice that I am no longer at the driver's side of the truck. Now we're a few feet away from the front bumper.
But I believe the most terrifying thing about it all is the fact that I am lying on top of Edward Masen. In the student parking lot. With his sister stalking towards us with a gigantic frown on her face.
"It's all right!" I hear Edward reassuring Alice.
Oh, Edward... It's really, really not. My face has caught on fire from the deep blush I'm sporting. And you're just resting underneath me with your arms locked around my waist like you do this with a girl every day of the week.
"Are you sure that you're not bleeding or anything?" Alice asks from a distance. The mention of blood worries me for a second. If Edward is bleeding, I might pass out since both the sight and smell makes me sick. And fainting on top of him will definitely not make this situation any better for me...
He rolls his eyes a tiny bit before he answers her. "No blood. I just bumped my head."
She comes closer until she's nearly on top of us. "Are you sure you're OK?" she stresses.
"Yes." As he tells her this, he heaves out a heavy sigh and unconsciously squeezes me tighter around my middle. I know that I should be reminding him of our predicament, but I'm having difficulty forming words right now.
"Thank goodness," Alice mutters while looking down at her brother. Her golden yellow eyes suddenly dart over to me. A beaming grin appears on her face. All I can think is that she has noticed that I am on top of her brother. And she's trying valiantly not to laugh.
Alice gives me a quick, covert wink before speaking to Edward again. "I think you can let go of Bella now."
His eyebrows pinch together in deep puzzlement for a few beats. Then, very slowly, Edward tentatively tears his gaze away from Alice and takes a good look around us. I can almost see the lightbulb of realization go off in his head once he finally notices that the klutzy girl he had to catch today is using him as a mattress.
His arms unlocked from my waist and I roll off until I meet the chilly concrete. Alice appears in front of me and kindly offers her hand to pull me up. I gratefully accept it.
The poor girl's fingers are practically frozen, I think as I lift myself up from the ground. She should really wear gloves...
"Are you OK?" she asks me, interrupting my mental observation of her.
No, Alice. There will probably be pictures in the yearbook showing me casually lounging on your brother because I was too busy studying his eyelashes and pretty eyes. I think it's safe to say that I'm in trouble...
"I'm fine," I say instead.
When in doubt, claim that you are fine.
Maybe if I say this enough, it will even be true.
I glance down while I'm speaking to see what Edward's up to. He's cautiously rising until he's in a sitting position on the pavement, his long legs stretching out in front of himself. I look over at Alice and notice that she still seems worried about him. "I think he took the brunt of the fall," I quietly add.
One of her black brows arches upwards as she hums to herself. "Let me see something, Edward," she demands while she skips over to him. Edward warily looks up at her like he's about to question her intentions, but she bends down and starts rubbing her little white fingers at the back of his head before he can say anything.
"Ow!" he yelps out with a scathing glare at Alice. His square jaw is clenched and grinding slightly. There's even a vein popping out of the side of his neck as he scowls at her. Evidently, Edward is a little grumpy right now.
But his sister hasn't lost the bright smile from her elven face. His anger doesn't seem to faze her at all. "I thought so," she says in a knowing voice. "Carlisle needs to examine you."
"I said that I'm perfectly fine, Alice," he insists.
She nonchalantly shrugs her shoulder. "OK. I'll just make a call to Esme and let her know that you were in a horrific car crash at school, but you refuse to be medically examined. I'm sure she won't mind at all."
The grumpy face he was making instantly vanishes the second Alice says "Esme". I'm guessing that Esme is their Mom by the way he's now nervously dragging his hand through his hair.
"You win," he breathes out.
A curly haired figure zips out from behind a parked SUV around thirty feet away. Jessica takes a brief look at me. A quick glance at Alice. Then her mouth gapes open wider than a trout's when she spots Edward sitting on the cold cement.
"Oh. My. God!" Jessica squawks, nearly taking out my eardrums.
Edward's entire body stiffens in visible alarm at the sound of her voice. His reaction reminds me of one those nature TV shows that film gazelles the moment they realize that a lioness is about to eat them.
His eyes look pleadingly up at his sister. "Alice. If you value my sanity at all, please keep Jessica Stanley at least a dozen feet from me right now," he requests in a low, desperate sounding voice.
She nods her head while not bothering to hide the small smirk attached to her face. "Will do," she replies as an ambulance's siren wails towards the school. She backs up a few steps and positions herself in front of Jessica's path, forming a living blockade.
Jessica appears seconds later behind Alice. She's standing on her tip toes in order to peek at Edward over his sister's head. "Is it true? Did you really almost get hit by Tyler's van?" she excitedly asks him.
For the first time since I rolled off of him, Edward's eyes flick over to look at me for a second before they dart away. "That, apparently, is up for debate," he remarks casually, but the way his jaw clenches makes me think he's not very happy with me right now.
My bottom lip immediately is assaulted by my teeth. I chew and chew and chew down on it as he begins to stand up. Everything is happening so quickly. The ambulance pulls up. A gurney is being dragged out from the back. I can vaguely see a wobbling boy being strapped down on it. People are breathlessly chattering in the background as all of these things happen. All the noise and chaos is way too distracting for me right now. I know I should say something to Edward, but I'm not sure what exactly it should be. I wish there was time to think...
As I'm pondering over everything, Alice drops her bodyguard duties and rushes over to Edward. "No, Edward," she tells him as she nudges him to sit back down. "You need to stay there until they wheel the stretcher over."
He completely ignores her instructions and goes about standing up on his own. With probing eyes, he peers down at her, almost like he's challenging Alice to disagree with him. "That wasn't a part of our deal," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'll go to the hospital, but I'm riding in the front. I'm not injured enough for a stretcher."
Alice lets out a disgruntled breath and rolls her eyes at him, making her annoyance clear. "I should have known you'd find a loophole," she huffs. Then, without another word, he side-steps his sister, strolls up to the ambulance, and climbs into the passenger side of the vehicle.
A pair of hands grab me by my shoulders and I'm yanked around in the opposite direction. Jessica is standing there with a crazed look in her eyes - they almost look like they are twitching in their sockets. Her breathing has become erratic as she squeezes my shoulders. "Bella," she slowly drawls. "Alex Simpson told me that Tyler's van hit your truck, and that you were standing there with Edward when it happened. Tell me everything."
My feet nervously shift as I try to come up with a way to avoid this conversation. "Well, umm, Jessica, there's really not much to say that you probably haven't heard already."
Her head shakes back and forth, ignoring my claim. "I need details, Bella," she presses while staring me down. "Alex barely knew anything. And you were there with Edward, right? Just...tell me what happened. Please?"
I take a peek behind me to see what Alice was making of this, but I can't find her. She probably fled the second Jessica opened her mouth to interrogate me. Alice is obviously a lot smarter than I am.
Sighing in defeat, I decide to give Jessica the story she wants to hear - with heavy editing, of course. I don't want to exactly report to her that I am a clumsily, uncoordinated girl that Edward felt sorry for because she almost fell three times in his presence.
"I was getting out of my truck and Edward started talking to me." This is pretty much true. Kind of.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jessica cuts in. Her eyebrow is cocked up at me like she's sure that I'm making this up. "Hold on for a sec. Are you saying that he walked over to your truck and started talking to you? Like, out of the blue? You didn't have to - uhh - track him down or anything?"
"No. It really wasn't a big deal," I tell her, trying to downplay our interaction. "He just came by and mentioned that it was kind of slippery around here this morning. We didn't say very much before that van started skidding around."
Her mouth purses out as she mulls this information over, savoring it the same way a wine critic tests a vintage label. "It hit your truck, right? I bet that was pretty scary. Watching a van barreling towards you, making you wonder if you're gonna die? I mean, wow! That's gotta be, like, totally terrifying, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess it was."
"How bad is the damage?"
"Oh, I haven't looked yet."
"Why not?" she wonders.
"Well, Edward and I landed in front of the truck and we just kinda stayed here after that. I guess I should go check it out now..."
A firm, tiny hand clamps back down on my shoulder, pinning me in place. Jessica's face has an undercurrent of hysteria running through it as she stares back at me. "Bella," she sing-songs in a strange voice. "What do you mean by 'Edward and I landed'?"
Without thinking of the consequences, my mouth starts to explain before I can stop to think what I should tell her. "When the van was coming, Edward thought that it was going to hit us, so he picked me up and brought me here. But I think he must have slipped or something because we wound up on the ground. Don't worry, I'm sure he's OK. His sister thought he should be checked out at the ER as just a precaution."
Sometime during my explanation, her eyes glazed over. I count to thirty before she even blinks again.
"Jessica? What's wrong?"
"You... He... What.. How?" she babbles.
When Jessica can't talk, you know that something is seriously wrong with her. I lead her to the hood of the truck and encouraged her to sit on the bumper before she passes out. "Are you OK now?" I ask, hoping that she will snap out of her daze. She takes a few breaths and briefly closes her eyes. When they reopen, she looks normal once again.
Her hands urgently clutch at my jacket and pulls me towards her. "Are you telling me he touched you?" she stresses in disbelief. I look at her face and observe that her eye is doing that twitching thing again. It must be a weird, nervous tick she has that I've never noticed before.
"Not really," I answer her. "All he did was lift me up. It's not like we held hands or anything."
"How did it feel?" she presses while hanging on my every word.
My mouth twists to its side. I wasn't sure of this question myself. Everything happened so fast.
"I don't know," I reply with a shrug. "I wasn't really paying attention."
With an exasperated huff, she rolls her eyes up to the sky. "Why, God? Why did you bless someone that can't even appreciate what you did for them?" Her eyes land back on me and she gives me a sad, disapproving shake of her head. "You had a boy that looks like he just stepped out of every girls daydream not only engage in a conversation with you, but also hold you and possibly save your life... And you can't even describe how it feels!? Do you understand how much this is killing me?"
"Save me?" I repeat incredulously.
"Yeah. Save you. Do you realize how many times I've dreamed for something like that to happen to me, Bella? Heck, that's pretty much all I do during Trig is fantasize about him rescuing me. And here you have him talk to you, swoop in, and rescue you. Then, you tell me that you weren't paying enough attention to give me details!" She let's go of my jacket and covers her face to muffle her scream of frustration.
"No. That's not what happened. He didn't really 'rescue me'. The van hit the back of my truck. Edward and I were standing near the driver's door. We were far enough away from the crash that we would have been fine where we were. I think he must have panicked when it was coming, so he grabbed me and brought us here."
She silently blinks back at me for a while. Then, she releases a long, drawn out sigh.
"Bella, Bella, Bella," she tuts. "No one can really say where that van would hit, you know. It could have changed course and went right at you. I mean, you were lucky that it hit the back of the truck. But what if it didn't? What if it veered a little to the left instead? You would have been hit, right?"
I was about to contradict her, but my mouth snapped back shut before I could speak. A half dozen thoughts began to shout for my attention. Memories of what happened just a few minutes ago begin to hit me square in the eye. And what Jessica just told me makes me reevaluate my own actions.
The curly haired girl that normally makes me worry for her sanity is apparently more observant than I am today. She didn't see the accident at all, yet she showed more wisdom than the person who had.
"Oh, no," I moan.
"What's wrong?"
"I... I think I messed up, Jessica. Really bad."
"What did you do?"
"Umm... I-uh... I kinda told Edward that he shouldn't have done what he did. Actually, I pretty much told him what I told you..."
"You what!?" she shrieks with bulging eyes.
"Shh!" I hiss as I glance around us. I don't want to draw a crowd over to us. I'd like to keep the embarrassment down to a minimum.
She lowers her voice and bewilderingly shakes her head. "I can't. I just can't believe this... You told the boy that was trying to save your life that he shouldn't have? Are you crazy? You've probably made him into a complete mess, questioning everything that he did for you. And now he'll never rescue anyone ever again!" she laments. Then, she stares off into the distance, her face wistful. "Well, there goes the chance for him to fulfill that fantasy..." she whispers.
While she is busily pondering on what might have been, I'm looking back on what just transpired earlier. No wonder he seemed so annoyed before he left to go the hospital. I didn't even tell him "thanks" or anything. I basically told him that he was wrong and overreacted...
"Hey, Bella," Jessica says, interrupting my guilty thoughts. "Look. Your dad's here now."
My neck snaps to the right and I scan the parking lot until I spot where Charlie's police cruiser is parked. A tall man in a police uniform steps out of the driver's side. Charlie and I don't look very much alike- I have a lot of Mom in me. But he and I do share a few traits. Our hair color is almost identical, as well as the shade of our brown eyes. Also, we both like our privacy and independence. We have an unspoken agreement that as long as I don't spray graffiti on Reverend Weber's church, or come in after 11:30 on the weekend, that he'll let me to go about as I please. And since I have absolutely no talent as an artist to warrant spray painting anything or even have a social life where I would be out later than nine o'clock, he appreciates having me as his daughter even more.
Charlie marches towards the demolished van and starts questioning bystanders. The windshield of the van is busted and glass lay strewn all around the area. The front is smashed in like a soda can after it has been crushed. The driver's side door is barely hanging on to its hinges. I'm no mechanic, but it doesn't look like the van is fixable...
A guy from a grade above me is stopped by Charlie and the guy yammers away for a while. I see Charlie extract his notepad and begin scribbling down whatever the guy is telling him. The guy starts wildly gesturing with his hands as he speaks. Charlie's head suddenly jerks at something the guy just said, and his eyes dart around frantically until they find me.
It takes me a lot longer than it should have to realize that the guy is telling my dad about the accident his daughter was involved in...
I fight to keep a grimace from forming on my face and give Charlie a halfhearted wave.
See, Dad? I try to say without words. I'm standing and waving at the same time. I even have all ten fingers and ten toes. So, everything's good with me. No need to worry yourself...
But Charlie doesn't appear to interpret it the way I want him to. To me, it looks like he's doing exactly what I don't want. And that's freaking out.
He's nearly sprinting across the icy parking lot, making me terrified that he's going to slip on the ice and break a hip. But he's not permanently balance-challenged like I am. He makes it over to me just fine.
"Are you hurt?" are the first words out of his mouth. His mustache is moving like crazy, reminding me of a caterpillar wiggling around. This is a certain sign that he is upset.
"I'm fine," I soothingly answer. "I'm not hurt at all."
He takes a deep breath and leans against the truck's hood. He crosses his arms and takes the time to scrutinize me before he says anything else- like he's not taking my word for it until he makes sure that I'm fine for himself.
"Well, you're lucky then," he says after his exam is done. "I hear that Crowley kid is pretty banged up. And from what I was told, you were right in that van's path before you moved out of its way. You could have seriously hurt yourself."
"Oh, no, Chief Swan," crowed Jessica with a dreamy smile. "Bella didn't move by herself at all. She was rescued!"
My eyes flashed down at her, furious that she would let something like that slip out to my father. If he thought that I was feeble enough where I couldn't save myself, he'll never let me leave the house without an escort...
"Rescued?" Charlie repeats with an arched eyebrow.
"Yeah!" Jessica eagerly continues. "Edward scooped her up and away from danger. Isn't it cool?"
"Is that true?" he asks me.
"Kind of..." I admit with a frown.
Once he sees that I'm not planning on being more forthcoming with information like the blabbermouth sitting on the bumper, he starts asking her question after question. Who was it that saved me? Where was I when the van was coming my way? Was I really as unhurt as I claimed?
"I already told you that I didn't get hurt," I snap irritably at him.
One of his eyebrows and his mustache arch up at me, which I have to say, was something I have never seen him do before. It was almost impressive...
"Yes, well, I have to get multiple witness statements. And your friend here seems to be chock full of interesting info that you didn't supply," he counters with a tiny smile.
He asks a few more questions and then decides to go check the truck for damage. The three of us round the truck to its back and are shocked to see that it looks almost the same. There's a broken taillight and a few scratches, but otherwise it's fine. If that speeding van made any dents, they are blending in nicely with what was already there.
Since I'm uninjured, I prepare to get to class even though I'm running a few minutes late. I'm pretty sure that word has gotten around to the teachers that there was an accident, and they'll agree that I have a valid excuse for my tardiness. Charlie tells me that I shouldn't drive the truck until he can fix the taillight this evening. Jessica offers to drop me home after school and I hastily accept before he can tell me that he'll pick me up in the police cruiser. I don't mind being seen with my dad, but I do not want everyone to gawp at me while entering his car. I get stared at enough for just being the new girl.
I grab on to Jessica's elbow to keep from falling while she leads me towards class. Before we make it too far, Charlie calls out my name and I stop to look behind me. He's nervously stroking his mustache, a sure sign that he has bad news to share. "Don't worry about cooking tonight, Bells. We'll stop by the diner and eat there," he tells me.
I'm thrilled by the news. I haven't eaten out since I moved away from Phoenix. And having a night off from kitchen duties sounds great. I don't understand why he looks so worried about it...
As I'm cheering inside of my head, Charlie continues. "The only thing I want you to do is call your mother and tell her what happened today."
My brain freezes.
All happiness has died.
Oh, no...
The woman that hysterically cried when she watched a Hollywood movie studio recreate the sinking of the Titanic will today be informed that her daughter had her very own near brush with Death...
And I will be trying to comfort the woman that's roughly 3000 miles away over the phone.
I knew I should have stayed in bed today...
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A/N- Guess what? This story is not dead! My other fic is complete, so you can expect to see this updated much more often than before.
And if you followed me here from Forward To The Future, I just want to say hi and thanks.
Do you know what I work for? Your review. Tell me what you think. If you enjoyed reading this chapter- tell me. If you think that this was the dumbest thing ever- let me know. I promise I won't cry (very much).
Next chapter- Bella deals with an insecure Mike, talks to a frantic Mom on the phone, and tries to come up with a way to apologize to Edward. But will he even accept it?
Thanks for reading! :-)
Edit December 3, 2019- *climbing up on my soapbox*
I am writing this to clear up any possible confusion from something I wrote in this chapter. When I mentioned Tonya Harding crying, I was referring to when her skate laces broke during the Olympics. I was NOT referring to when Nancy Kerrigan was attacked and beaten by Harding's husband's accomplice. THAT is something I would never poke fun at.
*hopping back off my soapbox*