Forwarded To My Future

by Foenix2phorks

Complete. Bella is resigned to living a boring and unfulfilling life until she's old enough to graduate. But that was before fate stepped in. Looking up from her lunch tray, she sees four perfectly sculpted, pale faces - plus a bronze-haired, green eyed boy known for his gentility. He's not like the other boys in Forks. Can he help make her life a little more interesting? AU.

6. Only The Lonely - Know How I Feel

Charter 6- Only The Lonely (Know How I Feel)

January 27, 2005

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If dreams are a mirror into your soul, then I must be seriously disturbed.

I already had one bizarre nightmare the day of the accident. Then, last night, I had another one. I dreamt that I decided to go back home to Phoenix. I packed my bags, threw them into the passenger seat of the truck, and took off towards the highway. However, I had barely backed out of the driveway when a thick, gray fog surrounded me, making it impossible to see even the lines on the street. I kept driving, determined to get out of town. But it was like trying to maneuver through a maze with a blindfold on- there was no way for me to know where I was or even if I was headed in the right direction. Soon, I realized that I had been driving in a large circle, ending up right back where I started from. It was around my fourth lap when I woke up trembling in my bed.

Now, I'm no psychoanalyst, but it doesn't take a medical degree to figure out that both dreams have a common theme.

I am trapped.

Stuck in a town that boasts an umbrella store but not a decent fast food joint. You know your town is at the bottom of the barrel when you are required to drive an hour away in order to purchase a Happy Meal. And, believe me, the good people of Forks need more "happy" in their lives. A few chicken McNuggets might improve morale. Keep in mind, it rains or snows 206 days a year here. And the clouds block out the precious sunlight for longer than that. So, I sincerely believe that we need either a Zoloft prescription or a Big Mac. We deserve it.

After the dream, I have trouble falling back asleep. I lay awake for a long time afterwards, feeling sorry for myself and wondering what the weather would be like in Phoenix today. Would it be one of those cooler mornings where you might need to throw on a lightweight jacket before you head out the door? Or, would it be a "perfect" day- the ones where it's neither too hot nor too chilly. The warm sun kisses your skin and you greedily breathe in the dry, desert air. You can even drive with the car windows rolled down if you want to.

I don't need to check today's weather forecast for Forks. The sun only makes occasional appearances here- usually during the spring and summer months. Today, it will undoubtedly be cloudy and cold. The only uncertainty is if it will rain or not.

Next week will be Groundhog's Day, that day every year where Puxatoney Phil tells us if we will have six more weeks of winter or if we can expect an early spring. I can't speak for the rest of the country, but here in the Olympic Peninsula, whenever he predicts an early spring, it never happens.

Maybe we need our own giant rodent to forecast our weather. We can dub him "Forks Frank" and he can remind us every February 2 that it will be cold, cloudy, and rainy for the foreseeable future. He'll never give us false hope like that woodchuck from Pennsylvania. Plus, having an adorable woodland creature give us the bad news might take some of the sting out of the disappointment.

When the alarm beeps in the morning, I drowsily slap the snooze button, garnering me five more minutes to rest. Although I eventually fell back asleep last night, the amount that I received doesn't feel adequate enough.

After the second beep of my clock, I drag myself out of bed and sleep walk to my closet. As I dress myself, I remember that I forgot to check my email last night. Since Mom is traveling with Phil's baseball team, she has basically been living out of a suitcase. The only reliable way for us to communicate is through email. But the downside to this arrangement is that the computer Charlie bought for me is used and extremely old. And slow. Very, very slow. You have to be not only unfailingly patient, but also willing to devote vast amounts of your time in waiting for it to come to life. It is partly because of this reason that I rarely use it. It's no fun surfing the information superhighway when your PC takes two minutes to load up a search engine.

After I flick on the power button, I wander to the bathroom and brush my teeth. By the time I am finished, the computer is finally booted up and ready to go. It takes another minute for the old geezer to bring up my emails. And, just as I expected, Mom sent one last evening.

Clicking it open, I read:

ReneeDwyer04- Hi baby! I want to remind you to wear something nice when you go out on your dates. Jeans and t-shirts are fine for school, but boys appreciate it when a girl dresses nicely. Remember that cute black wool skirt and white blouse I stuck in your red suitcase? That would be perfect for this weekend! Don't forget to let me know how everything goes. And I want details, young lady! Oh, and did you remember to clean out the refrigerator? I just thought about it today. If not, I'll ask Mrs. Dillard to do it for us when she's checking our mail. I love you! XO

Twisting my mouth, I stare at the words my mother wrote. I love Mom. She is my best friend. But she has never truly understood some aspects about my personality. I don't have it in me to date just for the fun of it. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I'm refraining from the practice until I find the right person. Who exactly that will be, I'm not sure. I've been holding out for a Romeo type of guy to magically materialize in front of me - one that can speak in coherent sentences and understands that the Bronte sisters are not a new music group. However, I'm realistic. The likelihood of that happening is slim to none. What I do know for a fact is that if I couldn't find anyone matching my high standards in Phoenix with its one and a half million people, what is the likelihood that I'll do it in Forks? A place where you could cram the entire town's population inside of the grocery store and still have plenty of room for more? A place where the Lumberjack Festival, which hosts the much anticipated "loogie spitting contest", is the cultural highlight of the year?

Mom shouldn't have her hopes up so high. She is going to be very disappointed.

I flex my fingers a few times, and respond.

87BSwan- Mom, I am not dating anyone. At all. I will be spending my Friday and Saturday nights reading and cooking dinner for Dad. OK? And, if I ever do decide to date, I will definitely wear jeans and probably a t-shirt because they are comfortable. The guy will either have to deal with the way I dress or he can move on to someone else. BTW, we bought that black skirt for your boss's funeral. It has been permanently stained with that memory. And, yes, I tossed out all the dairy, fruits, and veggies from the fridge the day before I moved, so no need to bother the neighbor. I have to go to school now. Love you too. Bye.

I log off and sluggishly walk to the kitchen, fighting to suppress a yawn the entire way down the stairs. I don't feel like making breakfast this morning, so I nibble on a strawberry Pop Tart straight from the wrapper and sip on a cup of hot coffee. I don't normally drink coffee, but Charlie is a devout believer in the stuff. He drinks his black every morning. In order for it to taste halfway enticing to me, I have to dump spoonfuls of sugar and cream into my cup. But I need the caffeinated boost today or I otherwise risk not having enough mental energy to combat Tyler. It's scary to think that one cup of coffee may mean the difference between me staying strong and telling him "no" repeatedly, or tiredly throwing up my hands and agreeing that he can be my slave.

The parking lot is filling up by the time I pull into the school grounds. Scanning my surroundings, I see no sign of Tyler so far. I carefully begin to make my way to first period English, praying that I won't run into the shaggy-haired doofus. It isn't until I round the corner of the office building that I finally spot the top of Tyler's head poking up from above the sea of shorter students that surround him. He's standing in the middle of a sidewalk a couple of dozen feet away, slowly turning in place as he examines each passing face. I don't need to be informed of who he is searching for.

It feels as though I stumbled onto the movie set of an alternate version of The Terminator. But instead of Tyler being an advanced robot from the future who wants to kill me, in this scenario, he wants to slowly drive me to the brink of insanity with his ridiculous offers of scrubbing my house's toilet and dusting the living room. He probably came up with more "ideas" last night and wants to share them with me. However, I heard enough yesterday to last me for the rest of my life. And I'm exhausted. I'm in no mood to deal with him right now.

In defense, I search for an exit strategy before he notices me. Taking a look around, I see a cluster of squeaky-voiced girls walking by that look like their faces have been freshly spray painted with every beauty product imaginable. Instantly, I merge with their group, effectively hiding my head behind a girl that stands a few inches taller than me. I move along with them as they leisurely meander across campus. I figure that if Tyler does happen to look this way, the bleach blonde highlights and glossy pink lipstick that some of these girls are wearing will blind his retinas long enough for me to escape.

One of them, a blonde-haired girl that I've seen around school a few times, appears to be their ringleader. Another girl that I take gym with refers to the blonde girl as "Lauren". She's pretty in a showy kind of way. And, based on how she carries herself, she knows it, too. She dismissively tosses her hair around as she walks, rolling her eyes and smacking on a wad of chewing gum. The giggling girls tag along behind her, rapturously hanging on to her every word just like I would imagine Jesus's disciples would have done two thousand years ago. Of course, this girl isn't divulging philosophic wisdom to her followers to bring about brotherly love and world peace. Instead, she's sneeringly recounting the "gag-worthy" dress that her history teacher showed up in yesterday. Personally, I believe that any female above six years old that applies that much glitter to her face without having the excuse of being a Vegas showgirl shouldn't be casting stones.

The Glitter Queen, aka Lauren, eventually notices me trying to blend in towards the back of their group. That's my problem, I guess. Me blending in with the Maybelline Gang is an impossibility. Long ago I accepted that I am a plain Jane. I don't care much about my clothes as long as it looks fairly presentable, and I never wear make-up unless there is a formal occasion, like a wedding, that I need to attend. And both of these things appear to be very important to this group.

Lauren immediately stops walking and whirls around to face me with her hand embedded on her hip. She crinkles her nose and flashes her cold, unfriendly eyes at me, contemptuously staring in the very same way the average person would look at their shoe if they had accidentally stepped into a pile of dog poop.

Humphing out her disapproval, she scans my ordinary clothing choices - seeming especially disgusted by my plain white sneakers. "Do you, like...need something?" she asks using a high, nasally voice.

My self-esteem takes a bit of a hit. Glitter Queen obviously doesn't like me. I suddenly feel very unwelcome.

"I'm just, umm...walking to class," I awkwardly respond. Without giving Lauren the chance to insult me further, I break away from my hiding spot and continue on to class, carefully glancing over my shoulder to ensure that Tyler hasn't spotted me as I sneak away.

While I keep track of his whereabouts, I inadvertantly cause more chaos. I walk right into someone, whacking my forehead into the shoulder of my unfortunate victim, and he yelps out in pain.

Wincing, I cover my mouth with my hand, ashamed at myself for my carelessness. "I'm sorry, Eric," I embarrassingly groan. "I should have been watching where I was going."

Rubbing his shoulder, he shakes his head with a small smile on his face. "It's all right, Bella. It was just an accident," he replies.

My eyes scan the area where I hit him, checking for signs of injury. "I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?"

"It's fine. Don't worry. I'm tougher than that!" he chuckles, dismissing my concerns.

Eric's reassurance makes me examine him again. I have difficulty associating "toughness" with him. He wears dress pants that reach well above his belly button, in the same position that you might find on a ninety year old man. His black hair is carefully smeared with gel so that he can mimic a Spock-like hairstyle. And, if we were to compare arms, I'm pretty sure that I pack more muscle.

Not sure what I should say in response, I just smile and begin walking to class. Since we share first period, Eric joins me and we stroll side-by-side to the English building.

After a few steps, he tries to make conversation.

"So... You made any plans for this weekend?" he curiously asks.

"Just hanging around the house with my dad," I answer.

"Oh. Takin' it easy, huh?" he replies. "I'm going to Seattle."

My eyebrows lift. "Wow. I bet that's a long drive."

He snort laughs a little and smiles. "Yeah. About four hours if you go the speed limit. But I've waited months for this. A few hours behind the wheel will be well worth it in the long run. Me and a few friends from Port Angeles are heading out Friday evening so we can be the first in line Saturday morning! I already bought my ticket and saved up enough cash for the gas to get there. It's gonna be awesome! I just hope that everything goes as planned." Inexplicably, Eric sighs and adds in a dispirited voice, "I'm getting Austin to cover for me this weekend. I told my mom that I'll be at his house all the way til Sunday morning."

I have to hide my astonishment. He has never shown this side of himself before. Lying to his parents? Sneaking off to Seattle?

Based upon my limited interactions with Eric, I have only seen evidence of his squeaky clean image. He is the math club president. His hand is the first one up whenever a teacher asks the class a complicated question. Last Friday, I heard him have a heartfelt debate with a boy from a grade below ours on which light saber is more desirable - red, green, or blue? And once he spent five minutes explaining to me why Battlestar Galactica was the most underappreciated sci-fi series of all time.

"What exactly is it that you're going to?" I wonder aloud. "Is it a concert or something?"

He bashfully smiles and shakes his head. "Naw. Me and the boys are heading to the D&D convention. There'll be vendors selling all the merch you could ever want!" His eyes then glaze over and his voice drops down to an awed reverence. "And I heard that there will even be a display case with the original box set."

"D&D?" I perplexedly repeat.

"Dungeons and Dragons," he placidly clarifies as I open the classroom door. "This is will be my first time going."

I edit my previous thought. Eric is more of a rebellious geek than troublemaker. At least he's consistent.

"I'm not sure if I understand why your parents wouldn't want you to go," I gradually say.

"Mom thinks I'm not old enough to go on a trip without adult supervision," he says with an eye roll as he takes a seat in the desk in front of mine. "Which really sucks cause I'm a seventeen year old man! I'm not a toddler anymore! And Dad's no help cause he's still hoping that I'll grow out of D&D and all my other hobbies just so I can sign up for the football team. He used to be the quarterback here, so he thinks I'm damaging his precious reputation."

I sadly regard Eric, suddenly feeling sorry for him. He may not be the most popular or coolest person around, but I'm not either. He has a right to enjoy what he wants - even if it doesn't quite meet his dad's expectations.

"Well, I hope you have a good time in Seattle," I honestly tell him.

"Thanks," he responds with a smile. "I'm really looking forward to watching the tournaments, too. My friend Tom is gonna compete. He's a Druid." Eric subsequently expounds on the elaborate rules of the game, becoming more and more animated as he speaks. I have no clue what he's talking about, but I try to pretend that it interests me for his sake.

A couple of minutes into his explanation, a sharp laugh comes from my right. "Are you talking about that lame game again?" Mike snorts, plopping down onto the desk next to mine. "You talk about it all the time. News flash, Yorkie- no girl is ever going to want to hear you go on and on about something so boring. Find a new subject for a change!"

Then, with a cheerful grin, Mike turns to me. "So... Bella. Did I ever tell you about the time I sold five pairs of galoshes in only one day? It was a sales record! My mom took a picture and everything!"

Without being able to hold it in, a yawn escapes from my mouth. Good thing Mike never notices that kind of thing or else it might hurt his feelings.

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When the bell rings at noon, Jessica and I walk towards the cafeteria. We're almost there when she recognizes Angela just ahead of us. Angela is easy to spot. She's one of the tallest girls that I have ever met.

Jessica yelps out Angela's name while frantically waving her arms around. Angela pauses midstep and swings around, a patient smile already in place. She waits until we come closer and joins us as we enter the lunchroom.

"I'm so glad I caught you, Ang!" Jessica excitedly trills. "I've got news. Big, BIG news!"

We take our place in the lunch line with Jessica in front of us. Angela smiles a little, takes off her glasses, and cleans one of its lenses with her untucked shirt. After she puts them back on, she lightly teases, "Bigger than when you found out they were opening a Papa John's in Port Angeles? You told me that was the biggest, best news ever."

Jessica curtly shakes her head. "No! This is, like, a hundred times more important than that!" she exclaims, her eyes gleaming with unsuppressed enthusiasm. "Do you remember how Christina Wilkinson told me that she wasn't interested in Jason at all?"

Knitting her brows as she thought, Angela slowly shakes her head back and forth. "No," she eventually confesses.

Rolling her eyes, Jessica huffs out an exasperated sigh. "It was the day after we got back from Winter break. I told you how I saw her at the Christmas party and straight out asked her."

Angela puckers her lips, straining to think. A few seconds later, her mouth drops open a little. "Oh. I remember now. You said that Christina insisted that they were just friends, but you said that they stare at each other too much for that to be true."

Now happily grinning, Jessica appears mollified that Angela recalled the story. "Exactly," she gleefully emphasizes. She leans in closer to Angela and me, a triumphant smirk gracing her face. "Well, guess who was seen last night at a restaurant in PA, holding hands and practically mauling each other with their tongues?"

Angela briefly catches my eye, giving me a knowing look that seems to say "Jessica's mouth will be lifting off in approximately T minus five seconds".

She turns back to Jessica and cheekily surmises, "I'm gonna take a wild leap and say it was Jason and Christina."

Jessica's entire body shakes from the excitement of being the person that gets to share the gossip with us. She reminds me of a volcano that's on the verge of erupting. And she does exactly that. Her mouth opens and she spews out more detailed information about the teenage love affair than I think possible for her to know. And it's way more than I care to know, too. Angela and I get the scoop on what they wore, what they ate, the things they talked about on their date, and how many kisses they shared in public. I'm not sure if any of what she is sharing is even true. I take the news with a grain of salt.

Her story ends by the time we arrive at our usual table. Angela sits across the table while Jessica takes the chair beside me. Soon they talk of other matters while I begin to eat. I can tell that the lunch ladies tried harder than usual to make our food more appetizing. The chicken patty on my tray even looks like real meat today. That's a definite improvement on the mystery meat of last week. Whatever it was, they tried to hide it's blotchy gray color under a puddle of brown gravy. But I was not fooled. I had a plain ham sandwich and silently prayed for the souls and stomachs of the kids that felt brave enough to eat the other stuff.

I'm looking down at my tray, cutting up the chicken into smaller bites, when the empty seat next to mine is pulled out. Mike's voice is already running at full throttle, eagerly sharing more stories regarding his parents' store. I sigh and begin to raise my head to greet him.

Yet before I can fully turn, I discover a pair of emerald green eyes fixedly watching me from across the room.

Edward stands in the middle of an aisle, his lunch tray gripped in his hands. Standing in place, he makes no move to leave his spot as the other students attempt to pass by him. His face is neither scowling nor frowning. He's even maintaining eye contact with me. This has to be an indication that he hasn't reverted back to ignoring me.

Right?

Once the initial surprise wears off, I smile and try to forget all about his mood swings from yesterday. In reaction, he smiles back. It's small, yet still eye-catching. Almost unconsciously, I release a breath of pent-up air and relax. He is at least trying to be friendly, I rationalize.

My own smile spreads wider and I shyly lift my fingers to give a tiny wave. But instead of waving back, Edward's head snaps to his left, towards his family. His four siblings are already seated, and each one of them are curiously watching him as he stands there in the middle of the cafeteria. His sister Rosalie says something, and without giving me another glance, he walks over to the Cullen lunch table.

"Did you hear what I said?" I hear Mike whine.

My teeth bite down on my bottom lip as reality hits. Mike had been talking to me and I tuned him out completely.

Oops...

Turning towards him, I see a deep frown on Mike's face. His icy blue eyes appear to concentrate their fury at something across the cafeteria.

"Oh. I'm sorry," I quickly apologize. "I was just waving hello to someone. Go on and finish what you were telling me."

The angry set of his eyebrows slowly return to a normal position while the corners of his mouth rise up, almost resembling a smile again. "OK," Mike agrees, sounding pacified. "So Doug and I picked a place to camp for the night out near Forsythe Trail. It had a water source nearby. Flat, level ground. It was perfect. We threw up our tent and ate dinner before the sun even set. Since we were bushed, we decided to hit the hay early. That's when Doug dragged out his sleeping bag." Mike laughingly tsks and shakes his head. "It was a regular feather down sleeping bag, Bella," he chuckles as though that was a travesty. "Everyone knows that you bring either a synthetic insulated sleeping bag or have a water-resistant feather down bag when you go camping in the Northwest! Before that night, I thought Doug was smarter than-"

"Do you mind if I sit here today?" a smooth voice asks nearby, somehow blocking out the end of Mike's story.

Without another thought, my head whirls around faster than I think possible. Edward is standing behind the empty chair directly across from me. He's looking down at Angela, waiting for her to answer his question.

Nodding her head in approval, Angela kindly says, "Sure. Go ahead."

Smiling unassumingly, he sits down next to her. "Thank you," Edward deeply utters.

It isn't long before his eyes roam around the table, seeming to briefly examine each face. "Hey," I say in greeting once he finds my own.

"Hello," he responds. One corner of his mouth rises higher than the other, producing a smaller version of the lopsided smile that I find far too distracting for my own good.

Feeling as though I might be staring for a few beats too long, I nervously flick my eyes to my right and they land on Jessica, who is sitting next to me. That's when I notice that she is immobilized. Her eyes are as large as saucers as she ogles Edward. Her spellbound reaction to his presence is similar to when in Raiders Of The Lost Ark the Nazis unblinkingly stared at the Ark of the Covenant until it melted their faces off. Even her mouth hangs loosely open. If she doesn't close it soon, I'm pretty sure drool will begin to drip out.

I think having him so close is too much for her. Maybe we should have asked him to approach the table slowly so she could have had adequate time to adjust.

"How come you're not sitting with your brothers and sisters today?" I overhear Eric ask Edward.

In response to the question, Edward's face relaxes and he shrugs his shoulders. "I was in dire need of a change in scenery. Emmett and Jasper are arguing over who will win the Super Bowl and they always get overly emotional." Casually, he adds with a playful smirk, "And, Alice is pestering me about cleaning out my closet just so she can be the one to reorganize it. I think she has some sort of disorder."

Angela laughs a little, and when my eyes dart over to look at her, I happen to notice Alice rising from her seat at the Cullen table. She's glaring at the back of Edward's head with a dirty look. Yet before she can fully stand up, her boyfriend Jasper catches her by the elbow and gently tugs her back down to her chair, whispering into her ear until she settles back down.

That's strange. I wonder what that was about?

After Angela's laughter has subsided, I stop watching what's happening across the room and instead refocus on Edward. "Well, you're welcome to sit with us whenever you like," I announce, wanting to make him feel welcome.

I glance over at Jessica, who is still dazedly leering at him. She's in such a state of disbelief that I don't believe that her eyes have blinked at all for the past two minutes. And she hasn't said one word since he appeared. I think that this may be the longest stretch of time that she has ever went without speaking during the lunch hour.

Under the table, I nudge her shin with my foot, hoping to kick-start her brain before she embarrasses herself any further. It seems work. With her brown eyes confusedly fluttering a couple of times, her brain reboots. Her gaping mouth snaps shut. Then, all at once, the untapped energy that she had been holding inside of her finally explodes.

"Yes!" she shrilly bursts out, not bothering to hide her elation at having the object of her obsession within arms reach. Beaming from ear to ear, she takes in a tranquilizing breath, trying to appear calmer. "I mean, I agree," she says in her best attempt at sounding nonchalant.

Bowing his head in acknowledgment, Edward tactfully mutters, "Thank you."

Jessica's leg begins agitatedly shimmying under the table as she begins to share the latest high school gossip she has scrounged up. She's trying very hard now to keep her cool in front of Edward. If it wasn't for her knee shaking like a leaf, I would never guess how excited she is. I have to admit, I am a little impressed by her restraint. Based on the level of fascination she has shown for him, I had feared that she would do something outrageous. Like jumping into his lap and admitting that she takes pictures of him whenever he isn't looking. She probably has an altar devoted to his image in her room that she worships every night before going to bed.

Whereas she is beyond thrilled today, Mike is definitely not. Like Jessica a couple of minutes earlier, he hasn't spoken since Edward sat down. But I don't think it's because he is happy or in shock. As I eat, I notice Mike is sitting there with a pinched mouth while silently observing Edward with a look of disgust- similar to how Lauren looked at me this morning.

Edward, on the other hand, seems unaffected by the waves of unfriendliness coming from Mike. He even contributes to the conversation every so often. I'm not sure how he can do it. If I had someone openly despising me three feet away, I wouldn't be able to feel comfortable at all.

Without being able to help myself, I find my eyes periodically drifting to see what he is up to. I notice little quirks in his behavior that seem unusual for a teenage boy in a small country town. For one thing, he is very formal while he eats his lunch. His posture is perfectly straight as he cuts up the food on his tray into small, bite-sized pieces. Using a sophisticated technique, he plunges his fork into the pieces of meat and neatly places it in his mouth. Not a crumb falls on the table. Every so often, he carefully blots his mouth with his napkin. Yet, despite his urbane table manners, he somehow seems relaxed and suave. Kind of like a modern day Cary Grant - that classic Hollywood actor Mom loves so much. I half expect for a waiter to appear behind him and ask if he would like to consult the wine menu.

At one point, while my head is turned towards Jessica, I see him in my peripheral vision moving around. Catching my attention, I sneakily peek his way. He has placed his fork and knife upon his tray and appears to be digging for something in his pants pocket. Without warning, his head pops up to scan the table, his eyes cautiously looking around. Once he believes that he is not being watched, his eyes drop down to his lap for a few seconds. Not long afterwards, he stuffs whatever he was looking at back into his pocket.

My thoughts turn speculative as I continue to pretend that I didn't notice what he was doing. What could he have that would make him appear so nervous about being seen? Like I said before, he doesn't strike me as the type of guy to have something dangerous or illegal. So drugs or weapons can probably be ruled out. Maybe it's something personal. Something that would be embarrassing to be seen with but he can't be without it. Like medicine. Or-

"Hey, Bella!" abruptly screeches the last voice I want to hear today. I had successfully avoided him up until now. I should have known that he'd find me at lunch time...

"Hi, Tyler," I ruefully heave out, already feeling exhausted.

All six seats at the table are filled, so at least he can't join us like he did yesterday. But he does squat down in between Jessica and me, wedging himself as deeply as possible in order to be at eye-level. Dreamily grinning like he just finished huffing a tube of Super Glue, he says, "How about this? How about, for the next month, I give your truck a good wash and wax every weekend."

My truck's paint job is so ancient that it's nothing more than rust now. A "good wash and wax" would leave nothing but bare metal.

Besides, seeing Tyler at my house every weekend isn't going to work either. I try to relax there. And I cannot relax when someone like Tyler is in my vicinity. He would give me a nervous breakdown.

Shaking my head, I try to remember that slapping an idiot is probably against the Geneva Convention.

"No," I calmly but unwaveringly inform him. "I meant it when I said that you didn't need to do anything for me. I'm fine. My truck's fine. Everything's fine."

I can see his beady hazel eyes vacantly blinking back at me, likely ignoring everything I just told him. I would have an easier time negotiating peace in the Middle East than making this boy understand that I don't need his assistance.

In desperation, I rack my brain in search of a way out of the problem. Within seconds, I realize that my answer is sitting right across from me. And a plan forms in my head.

Peeking over at Edward, I tell Tyler, "If you want to do something nice, go do something for Edward- he's the one that deserves it."

And he does deserve some recognition. Tyler keeps harping on about how he almost killed me, yet Edward was in just as much trouble...

Tyler's forehead creases and he confusedly blinks back. "Oh," he gradually puffs out. Slowly turning to look at Edward, he asks, "You want me to wash and wax your car, too?"

Saying nothing for a short time, Edward's brow searchingly arches up as he analyzes the situation. "No thank you, Tyler," he guardedly replies. "That won't be necessary. You don't owe me anything- I assure you."

Inwardly, I'm smiling and shaking my head at Edward's naïveté. Tyler does not understand the meaning of "You don't owe me anything". That boy will be throwing out idea after idea in order to "make up" for almost killing him. Edward will soon learn that Tyler is irritatingly persistent.

But at least I will no longer be the only target on Tyler's hit list. He'll have to alternate between annoying two people instead of just one. I mean, he can't be in two different places at once. He'll be forced to divide his time between two potential victims. I'll finally have a break.

My plan is foolproof.

"Are you sure?" Tyler reconfirms.

Edward chuckles a little and nods. "Trust me, I'm 100% positive on that," he emphatically smiles.

"OK," Tyler breezily replies, shrugging his shoulders in acceptance. Slapping on a dopey grin, he refocuses right back on me without appearing to give Edward's refusal another thought.

Wait.

What?

That's it? All Edward needs to do is reject him once and he accepts it? Just like that?

"But I'm still going to do something to make it up to you," Tyler fervently insists. He begins to rise up from his crouched position until he's fully standing up. "I promise!" he cheerfully throws in.

"No, please-" I urgently rush out, trying to explain to him for the umpteenth time that he shouldn't bother. Maybe if I say it exactly like Edward did, the idiot will finally get it through his thick skull...

But Tyler is already on the move, strolling away from the table before I can say a word. "Well, catch ya later, Bella! Don't worry, I'll think of something!" he carelessly yells out for the entire student body to hear.

I don't normally condone violence. Physically fighting someone is rarely the proper way to respond to a problem. But I'm not going to lie. As Tyler shuffles away from me, I'm daydreaming about at least causing the boy a little bodily harm. A black eye, perhaps. Or maybe a quick punch to the gut. The only thing that saves Tyler is the fact that Charlie would be extremely embarrassed if he has to arrest his teenage daughter at her school.

After Tyler leaves, Edward interrupts my dark fantasy. He's sitting there with a face that appears free of emotion. His posture is relaxed as he leans back in his chair. Yet the green hue of his eyes are brilliantly shining while he observes me, twinkling in apparent amusement. His tongue darts out to briefly moisten his top lip. Then, in a contemplative tone, he lightly quips, "That was certainly a creative way to dodge Tyler's attempts to make amends to you. I've never been thrown under a bus before."

I tense up a little at his lighthearted teasing. It's not fair that I'm targeted by the moron all by myself. And what makes it worse is that Edward believes it's funny that I'm being annoyed to death.

I stubbornly wrinkle my forehead, sharply looking back at him, and insist, "I didn't throw you under anything."

OK. Maybe I did a little bit. But Edward doesn't need to point it out to everyone at the table. I've been embarrassed enough as it is this week...

Continuing on, I say, "I was trying to remind him that it wasn't just me involved in that accident. He shouldn't concentrate on me when you were right there, too."

The corner of his lip inches up into a small, crooked smile. "Ah," he knowingly hums, "but I don't believe his priorities lie with anyone except you at the moment."

Tiredly, I heave out a breath. I guess I should have known that Tyler could only handle annoying one person at a time...

"That's what I was afraid of," I grumpily mutter.

Jessica cuts in to say that she heard that Tyler had been told by his father that he could only leave his house in the case of school, work, or fire until further notice. Evidently, the accident in the parking lot was sending their car insurance payments through the roof. A mere week's grounding was now deemed too inadequate since he had been at fault.

If what Jessica says is true, I'm not sure how Tyler planned on "making it up" to me if he's grounded at home. But, knowing my luck, his dad would probably love to have his son slaving away at my house for a few hours every day. Living with the boy can't be easy. He would likely appreciate having his son worry someone else for a while.

Soon, Angela changes the topic to something other than Tyler, relating a story where her twin little brothers decorated her bathroom in dozens of swirls of toothpaste after she briefly left them alone to check on something cooking in the microwave. That incident marked the first time they were sent to time out.

Afterwards, Jessica regains control of the conversation, complaining about the amount of homework our teachers have been assigning to us lately. She sounds particularly upset at our U.S. Government teacher who asked that we evaluate the performance of every United States president since Washington and rank them by their effectiveness.

"We need to take a serious break or something," she concludes after her rant is done. Looking over at Mike and me, she adds, "We're still on for the trip, right? I need to know there's at least one thing I can look forward to."

Edward's face snaps up from his food, scanning our three faces. "What trip?" he asks.

Jessica's eyes bulge out of her head as her excitement intensifies. She looks a lot like one of those weird stress relieving toys that you squeeze and its eyes pop out.

"Ohmygosh! I totally forgot!" she chirps, bouncing in her seat. "When you were out of school last week, we decided to take a trip down to the La Push Ocean Park!"

And I forgot all about it, too. The day after I moved here, during lunch, Mike had proposed the idea of having a group outing to First Beach. I didn't take it seriously at the time, so I only gave them a "I'll need to think about it" as an answer. I had just met these people. It took weeks of adjustment at my last school before I felt comfortable hanging around anyone after school.

Angela swivels to her right and asks Edward, "Have you been to La Push yet?"

"No, I haven't," he answers, shaking his head. "What's it like?"

She kindly smiles and says, "It's different from what you would normally expect at a beach. There's not much sand to speak of- the shore is made from mainly stones and pebbles. But I think that's what makes it special. Each pebble is smooth, polished, and unique. There's a lot of driftwood scattered around, too. I love that about the beach, though most people think that the tide pools are the biggest draw. Depending on weather and time of year, the pools may have hundreds of creatures swimming around in them. Once I saw an octopus in one of them."

"Yeah, all of that is nice," Jessica cuts in, batting her eyelashes at Edward. "But I think that the best part of First Beach is when the weather turns warmer. That's when you can slip into a swimsuit, jump into the water, and let your instincts take over." Allowing her voice to drop into a husky rasp, she coyly asks, "You do like swimming, don't you, Edward?"

He uneasily clears his throat. "Not particularly," he carefully drawls. "I prefer dry land."

To her credit, Jessica only appears disappointed for a few seconds before she's beaming again. "Me too!" she perkily agrees. "I just love sunbathing on the beach. And, it's so much fun exploring the paths around the reservation. Then, after sunset, we can roast marshmallows over a bonfire!"

"I checked the forecast for next Saturday," Mike suddenly announces from beside me, "and it looks like the weather will be too cold and rainy that day, so I think we should cancel it for now."

Mike pauses to coldly stare across the table for several moments, then nods his head in Edward's direction. "Besides, I really don't think it's a good idea to take him out into the great outdoors. He didn't do so well the last time he was out there." Mike's mouth curls into a scornful smirk, and adds in a accusing tone, "Did you, Edward?"

While Mike appears to gloat over what he said, Edward passively regards Mike and says nothing at first. As for myself, I'm randomly swinging my head back and forth between Edward and Mike, trying to understand what's going on. What did Mike mean? And why is everyone else either nervously fidgeting in their chair or uncomfortably looking away from the table, as if they are trying to avoid the suddenly awkward situation by pretending that they are not really here?

It doesn't take long for Edward to respond. Appearing to cautiously select his words, he slowly says in a steady voice, "That was a difficult time in my life. I wasn't in the right frame of mind."

Mike chuckles a few times, yet his eyes remain sharp and unmerciful. This is a stark contrast to his usual joking and friendly personality. "Not in the right frame of mind?" he derisively repeats, keeping his focus locked on Edward's face. "Let me tell you something, Bella. Edward here, back last summer, got himself lost near the National Park. He didn't bother bringing any supplies. Not even a map. From what I was told, he probably would have died out there if it hadn't been for your dad finding him."

I suck in a lungful of air, gasping in surprise. Edward almost died? And Charlie saved him? Why had I not heard this story before now? And why does Mike appear to take pleasure from sharing the news? How could someone being lost in the wilderness be something he can laugh at?

Somehow, despite the way Mike seems to be trying to push his buttons, Edward remains calm and composed. He purposely ignores Mike, choosing to address me as if I were the only person at the table.

"As I was trying to say," Edward evenly stresses. "I had just lost my mother. I had to leave the only home I had ever known to live in a place that I knew absolutely nothing about..." Unexpectedly, he stops speaking, struggling to complete his train of thought.

I have seen Edward in a few different moods in the short time I have known him. I've seen him amused, intrigued, irritated, and indifferent. However, this is the first time I've seen him hurt. His luminous green eyes have dimmed, appearing somber and desolate.

Although I do not know the full story of what happened to him back last summer, I suddenly feel as though I can relate to what he must have gone through.

Didn't I leave my entire life behind me in order to move to the very last place on Earth that I would want to live? I have been dealing with bouts of depression ever since my plane touched down in Port Angeles. If it wasn't for me not wanting to worry Charlie to death, I would probably be wearing my gray sweatpants and weeping nonstop up in my bedroom right now. And I feel this way without having to experience a tragedy. I don't want to know how terrible it must be to lose your mother.

But what makes this situation worse is the fact that Mike has forced Edward to deal with his pain publicly. And Edward's only crime is that he chose to sit at a different table today. Forcing Edward to relive a horrible time of his life isn't something I want to be a part of. Every student and teacher at this school would know all of the details by tomorrow morning if he says anything more.

"Stop, Edward," I interrupt before he can continue. "You don't need to explain yourself. I understand."

He wordlessly stares back for a time, looking at me as if he can't fully believe what I just said.

"Do you?" he eventually asks, almost sounding awestruck. His eyes gradually regain some of the spirit that he had lost, seeming to concentrate all their attention on me. They become rejuvenated, deepening in color and intensity the more that they stare.

In response, I can only nod my head up and down. The power of speech has abandoned me. I'm locked in another staring contest with him, and I can't look away. It's beginning to feel like he really is a hypnosis wheel, the swirls of green in his eyes putting me into a trance. I'm pretty sure that if Edward felt like it, he could order me to cluck like a chicken at the snap of his fingers and I would probably comply.

How does he do that?

I hear a breathy sigh come from my right. "You must be really strong to go off on your own and survive out in the woods all by yourself," Jessica practically swoons.

The sound of her voice reawakens me and I free myself from Edward's piercing eyes. I look away from him, turning my body to face Jessica, and try to regather my composure.

"I don't know about that," he breathes out. "I will say that, since that day, I developed a deep respect for the forest. I never venture into it without a lot of consideration first."

Eric takes a bite of his salad, and announces with a nearly full mouth, "Well, I didn't want to go to La Push yet anyway. It's better to wait until spring when there's more of a chance to spot a whale."

I relax in my chair, grateful that the conversation has veered away from Edward and his problems (and also that no one appears to have noticed that I was awkwardly staring at him for way too long). Everyone seems eager to overlook the earlier incident. Mike, however, doesn't appear nearly as happy. He's frowning down at his tray of food, silent once again.

Jessica moans out loud and her face scrunches up like she is in pain. "Then what are we gonna do then? I'm gonna die if we don't do anything til spring!" she complains in a whiny voice.

Angela smiles and tries to suppress her laughter. "I think you're being a little over dramatic. The Academy Awards aren't for another couple of weeks," she teases with a wink.

Jessica's face lights up and she frantically bounces in her chair. "That's it! Let's go to the movie's next Saturday night! Who's in?" she breathlessly shrieks.

Angela takes a few seconds to think, her mouth twisted to the side. "I'll have to ask my parents first, but it sounds good to me," she gradually agrees.

Jessica whips around to me, giving me a childish pout. "Bella?" she presses.

Uh, oh.

I'm being put on the spot AND she's giving me the same sad, puppy-dog eyes my mom sometimes uses when she is begging me to do something I'm not thrilled about.

This isn't fair. I can't fight that.

But I guess going to Port Angeles isn't such a bad thing. At least it's better than Forks.

"I'll have to let Charlie know first," I sigh, giving up.

From my other side, Mike says, "Count me in."

"Me, too," Eric adds moments later.

Across the table, Edward lifts his bottle of water and takes a swallow, seeming to savor the taste for several seconds. Placing the bottle back down on the table, he leans back in his chair. Then, asking no one in particular, he says, "What time?"

His question is met with stunned silence.

I look around the table, confused by everyone's reaction. Is it really that much of a shock that he would want to do something besides hanging around Forks and gossiping at the Thriftway? If it were any quieter at this table, I would swear that the Twilight Zone theme song was being played in the background.

Jessica is the first to react. She whirls around to watch him, eyes wide and unbelieving. "I... I don't know," she shakily stammers. She begins to glance between Angela and me, a pleading look on her face.

Wow... Jessica doesn't know what to do. Having Edward finally accept an invitation to an after school activity is overwhelming her fragile state of mind. Normally she's the person that wants to hammer out the details.

Angela takes a second to think things over and comes up with a plan. "How about we agree to meet at 6:30 in front of the theater in Port Angeles."

Looking relieved, Jessica enthusiastically supports the suggestion. "Great idea! I'll drive the girls and Mike can drive the guys!" she optimistically squeals, as if it would be a fantastic idea to have Edward and Mike in the same vehicle for an entire hour's drive. I doubt it would go well. Mike hasn't exactly behaved in a friendly manner towards Edward.

Then, after another peek at the boy sitting across the table, her innocent excitement changes to a cunning, calculating plan to acquire her dream lover. "Or... unless Edward would feel more comfortable with us in my car? There's plenty of room," she hopefully offers.

"That's OK. I'll take mine," he quickly declares, sounding like he already had an answer prepared for her suggestion.

We finish eating and return our trays to the front of the cafeteria. Before we part to go to sixth period, Jessica skips up to me with a gleeful smile. "I told you that he would eventually cave! There's so much to do now! I'll call you later!" she whispers in my ear, and then runs off.

"What was that about?" Angela asks while we walk to biology together.

"I'm not sure," I admit. "But I have a feeling it has something to do with next Saturday, if you know what I mean. I think she may be a little excited."

With a knowing nod of her head, Angela grins. She then glances over her shoulder and, by reflex, I do the same. I observe Mike and Edward following a dozen or so feet behind us. Mike is talking to Edward, but it's too low for me to hear. However, based on Edward's clenched jaw and furrowed brows, I doubt they've made up and are swapping cookie recipes.

Seconds later, with his hands balled into tight fists at his sides, Edward stalks away and leaves Mike behind. Angela and I exchange worried glances before we separate in order to pick up our books from our lockers.

My locker looks like its last owner used it as a way to relieve stress. It has dents all over it, especially near the locking mechanism. Because of that, the door often sticks, making it difficult to open. It's like a game I get to play every school day. How long will it take Bella to crack it open this time? The answer for today- two minutes.

By the time I've opened it, I once again have company. Angela is by my side while Edward and Mike take up opposite positions nearby. The three of them stand there observing me as I pile my biology text book and notebooks into my arms. Lastly, I remember that I have homework assignments for Trig and Spanish. Since I don't want to make another trip at my locker today, I decide to go ahead and put them on my pile, too. Once I'm finished gathering my things, I slam my locker door shut and begin to walk toward Biology class.

Then, my shoe slides on a wet patch of gravel and absolutely everything in my arms scatters across the damp sidewalk.

Luckily for me, I don't land on my butt. I somehow keep myself from falling and manage to stay upright. But I do get to experience having three people witness how ungraceful I am.

As I take a moment to bleakly look down at the miniature disaster that I caused, someone brushes up against me as they pass my side.

"I'll get them," I hear Edward offer.

Before I can stop him, he's bending over and grabbing up my things while simultaneously holding his own books in his other arm. In mere seconds, he places them into my arms and backs up a few paces.

Great...

In less than a week's time, Edward has had to catch me from falling multiple times, tote me to safety, AND pick up my things when I dropped them.

How embarrassing is that? He probably thinks that helping me is becoming a full-time job.

I refrain from sighing at the situation and try to look him in the eye. "Thanks, but I could have picked them up myself, Edward. It was my fault," I tell him, trying to sound firm.

Without appearing to worry himself over my irritation, he unconcernedly shrugs his shoulders. "I don't mind," he says with a hint of a smile. "It's always a pleasure to help out a friend." He puts stress on this last word, as though he is attempting to subtly hint at our conversation from yesterday.

Although I'm not fully sold on the fact that he thinks that it's OK to swoop in and clean up my mess, I do appreciate his message. So when I exaggeratedly roll my eyes at his corniness, I'm smiling a little, too.

As we walk to our class, Edward soon shoots out ahead in order to open the door for us. Angela calls out a quick "thank you" as we enter the room.

Mike is right behind me as I shuffle to my lab table. I expect for him to follow me there and talk like he normally does. But that does not happen today. Instead, he stomps to his own table and flops down into his chair. Obviously, he isn't in the mood to talk with me right now. But truthfully, neither am I.

Edward comes to sit beside me moments later. Class won't start for a couple of minutes more. We sit quietly for a short time as I contemplate about what happened at lunch today. Besides the time that Tyler interrupted us and Mike's cruel attempt to embarrass Edward, it was an OK day.

But curiosity soon gets the better of me.

"Hey," I half whisper, wanting to keep our discussion to ourselves. Once Edward is turned towards me, I continue. "What was Mike telling you a few minutes ago? You know, when we were going to our lockers?"

I was planning on confronting Mike about what he did today. So, if he said something stupid on top of what he already said at lunch, I need to know how mad I should be...

Edward's jaw tightens slightly again, but otherwise he appears unruffled. "Nothing much. Just the usual," he casually responds.

I disbelievingly tilt my head as I stare at him. I don't buy it.

"If it's that unimportant, then it should be no problem for you to tell me," I defiantly press.

He drags his fingers through his hair, seeming reluctant to discuss the matter. "I make it a habit to ignore everything that comes from Mike's mouth," he steadily exhales. "That's why I consider what he says as 'nothing much'. I would much rather speak of other things besides him right now, if you don't mind."

His lips lift into an impish smile and he adds, "I know. Let's talk about your 'little helper' for a while. Tyler seems especially anxious to atone for the trouble he caused you. Why don't you fill me in on what he volunteered to do for you so far?"

I have to suppress the urge to stick my tongue out at him like a two year old. He's trying to avoid my question by bringing up the one thing I don't want to think about.

Stupid, brilliant boy...

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A/N- Since this chapter is hitting at over 10000 words, I have to cut it off here. I really wanted to end it with Jessica's phone call, but I think it is best to save that delightful conversation for next time.

Next Chapter- Bella confronts Mike. Jessica intelligently discusses Edward's sudden willingness to hang out with them (it's either that or she freaks out). Bella spends quality time with Charlie. And the kids prepare to go to Port Angeles. What could possibly go wrong?

Thanks for reading! :-)

P.S. In case you were wondering, there is no loogie spitting contest (that I know of) in Forks. I made that up. Sorry to disappoint.