A/N: I've not got anything I really need to say. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all connected to it. I only own this story line and any characters not included in her original saga!

I'll Always Find Peace In The Meadow

Chapter Fourteen: 'like living a nightmare' (Bella POV)

Tuesday 9th May 2017

Have you ever worried so much about something that you can't eat? You can't sleep? You can't concentrate on anything but the thing you're worrying about?

Well if you haven't, let me tell you, it's horrible. When one little problem, one miniscule event, takes up every corner of your mind, drowning you in worry and regret. It's like living a nightmare.

Edward's behaviour during our short walk after lunch yesterday, and his words as he fled the hallway, have caused me to do nothing but dwell over how today will be. Will he not bother to meet me at the library? My mind has come up with the worst possibility - that he'll never want to speak to me again.

My heart hammers in my chest as I walk to the cafeteria. I don't know what to expect. Now, even though it's been nearly a full twenty-four hours since Edward said those four words, "I'll see you around", I'm still worrying over it. I don't understand why. Our friendship is quite new.

I should be worrying about who left the note in my locker. This morning, when I arrived at school and opened up my locker, a note fell out. It reminded me so much of the day Edward left the note with his phone number on. At first, I thought that this one was from him, too. But it wasn't. At least I hope it's not from him. This note is written in different handwriting to Edward's, which indicates that it's not from him.

It simply says 'Stay away'.

Stay away from who? There is no name on the paper. No sign to tell me who wrote it. You see? I should be worried about this. But I'm not. The only thought running through my mind as I draw closer and closer to the cafeteria is, Will Edward show up at the library?

I walk through the doors, keeping my eyes trained on my shoes as I make my way to the lunch line. My hands shake with nerves, anxious to see if my worrying is for nothing, like I hope. I stand in line and wait. We all move up, one by one, slowly. Almost too slowly, like the universe just wants to make me suffer more. I feel like skipping out the meal just so I can see if he'll meet me at the library. But my stomach growling tells me to stay.

I didn't get any dinner last night. I had made me and my mother a curry, using the jarred sauce from the grocery store. It was only when we sat down to eat that I realised I hadn't cooked the naan bread. I was hoping my mother wouldn't realise, but to no surprise, she did. She pushed my plate to the floor in her anger, smashing it into pieces. Curry sauce and rice covered the tiled floor and the kitchen cabinets. It took me forever to clean up. By the time I had it all clean and the room back to normal, Renee had finished her meal, and forbade me from eating anything. I didn't try and argue, or go against her instructions. I went to my room and stayed there all night, until she left for work this morning. Unfortunately, she decided to take her time getting ready for work today, which didn't leave me enough time to get any breakfast after getting dressed and ready myself.

My stomach growls at an embarrassingly loud volume as it nears my turn to get some food. I must seem like a crazed person as I snatch my food from the selection, almost as if it'll disappear at any moment.

Once I have purchased my lunch, I make my way to the cafeteria doors, eager to get to the library. Something distracting, however, catches my attention out the corner of my eye. Edward, sat at the center table. He's in a chair that faces the side of the room with the cafeteria entrance, where I am. He's looking straight at me, and by the expression of guilt plastered all over his face, I know immediately that my worrying wasn't for nothing. He has no intentions of meeting me today. Lauren places her hand on his arm. He turns his eyes away from me to look at her.

My steps falter. Actually, because I'm not looking in the direction I'm walking, my steps don't just falter. They halt completely, as my feet tangle together and I fall to the floor. I drop my food out of instinct, ready to break my fall with my hands. I land safely, or as safely as possible. I don't break any bones, and my head doesn't hit the floor. My hands sting, like they're on fire, because of how I landed on the hard floor. But apart from that, they're okay.

I rush to my feet, stumbling and unsteady as I do so. Laughter echoes all around me, but I keep my head low and try to ignore all of the noise. Try to zone it out. I bend to pick up my now squished sandwich and banana, cursing under my breath as I examine the mess.

I plan on making a quick escape to my library corner. Alone. But first, I look towards the center table again. At Edward. Out of everyone, I thought he may have jumped up when I had fallen, to help me. I know that no one else would have. They never do. But Edward... I thought he may have been the one person to help me up. He didn't though. He's still sat down, his traitorous ass planted firmly in his seat. The seat he deserves to be sat in. With the other traitors and snakes.

I give him what I hope is a disgusted scowl, a hateful sneer, before turning and walking to the doors. I keep my cool facade long enough to be out of anyone's line of sight. And then I run. Not to the library. Not to my next class. Not to the music room, or my locker. I run out the front doors of the school, dump my spoilt food in the closest bin, and go to my bike.

Fuck this place. I'm not staying a second longer. I go home, tears of betrayal and anger and some other emotions I don't know the names of running down my face.

{o0o}

My mouth is starting to ache because of the permanent scowl fixated on my face. It's only broken when I sneeze, due to the dust billowing up with every movement I make. I hate this part of my job. Angela has me dusting the shelves as punishment for snapping at a customer when they repeatedly asked the same question I'd answered the first time. She knows I hate doing this. She doesn't know why, but she knows I hate it. It'll teach me for bringing my bad mood to work, she says.

I hate dusting here because it's something I have to do at home. One of the many things I love about my job is the escape I get from cleaning at home. Days like these are the worst. Here, I'll have to dust the shelves and books, and then vacuum everywhere. I do enough of this at home, dammit!

See? The worst!

Angela doesn't do this, punish me, often. Usually we have a good, strong work - yet friendly - relationship. Days like today, when I'm in an exceptionally bad mood, however, mean Angela has to bring out her boss side and push away the friend side.

She is right to do this. It will teach me. I shouldn't bring my personal shit here. But I can't help it. After I left school, I was so mad. I went home and paced my room for almost two hours. There is probably a dent in my floor now from the path I repeatedly walked for so long. When it was time to come here, I was still just as angry as I was when I left school. I was hoping to have calmed down, but I hadn't. The crying had stopped though, thankfully.

I finish dusting the 'Best Sellers' section, and move onto the next shelf. I can sense Angela watching me from the register, to my right. A few minutes later I complete that and turn to start dusting the 'History'bookshelves, my back now to where Angela is stood. I huff after I sneeze for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes.

"Bella," I hear Angela begin as she walks towards me. She waits for me to stop what I am doing and turn to her. "What's wrong?" she asks. I look to the shelf in front of me, running a finger across it silently. I shrug, earning a sigh from Angela. "Just tell me," she says. I turn to look at her impassively. "You know I'll ask my brother if you don't tell me. I'll find out one way or another," she points out, tapping her foot as she crosses her arms. Damn. I hate that she has a brother that goes to Forks High.

I sigh in defeat, turning and walking over to the seats by the window with slouched shoulders. There is only a small round table with two chairs on either side of it, all pressed up against the window, to sit at.

The shop isn't very big. It's small and cosy, filled with wooden bookshelves along walls and in the center, the cash register to the right, and the store room at the back. It's not one of those messy, nothing-has-a-place kind of bookstores. In Angela's, everything has a specific home. The shelves are sorted into genres and categories, the books lined up alphabetically, according to author's last names. It's a very well kept store.

I slump down into the chair in the very corner of the window, throwing the duster down onto the table before resting my elbows on it and putting my head in my hands. Angela delicately sits down on the chair opposite me. For someone so tall - six foot one to be exact - she moves with a grace you wouldn't expect. She's not lanky with her height. It actually suits her.

"That bad, huh?" Angela says as she studies me. I hum, nodding slowly. "What happened, sweetie?" she asks in a soft voice.

"Just kids at school being evil. Nothing new," I say, my voice void of any emotion. I speak in a monotonous voice. It kind of scares me.

"Have you told your mom?" Angela asks. I shake my head.

"I don't want to worry her," I say. This is always my excuse. Angela doesn't know that the real reason I don't inform Renee of the people at school is because she wouldn't care. I tried telling her, when it all began. She told me that I deserved it. That I should just suck it up, and deal. So I do.

I try to.

It's safe to give Angela this excuse, because I know that she will never tell my mom unless I asked her to. She wouldn't want to betray my trust like that... Unlike some people today.

"What did they do?" she asks after sighing. She hates that I don't tell my mother, but she doesn't say anything about it. However, her sighing every time I give her the same excuse doesn't hide her disapproval of my choices very well.

"I don't really want to talk about it," I mumble. Angela gazes at me for a few moments, assessing me with calculating eyes. She then sits back and sighs, again.

"Okay. Whatever you want. Just know that I'm here whenever you want to talk," she says, leaning forward to rub my arm soothingly, before she stands and heads back towards the store room. Before she goes through the door, she turns to me. "Carry on with the dusting," she instructs with a smirk. I narrow my eyes in a playful manner, as I stand and trudge over to the books. For the first time in a few hours, I smile. I love Angela. She's great.

~I*A*F*P*I*T*M~

I make it home a bit late, but not too long after the usual time I get in after work. Angela let me use her car for ten minutes, to drive around the large parking lot a couple blocks away from the bookstore. It's something she let's me do every now and then, now that my test is nearing. I've done all the necessary exams and filled out all the required forms, all that's left to do is take the practical test. I should be driving by the end of the month, if all goes to plan.

I walk through the door, completely and utterly spent. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. I just want to sleep. But I can't. First I have to cook dinner for me and Renee, and do my chores. I'm too tired to make anything that requires chopping. My arm is in agony after dusting for so long this afternoon. I decide to just throw a frozen ready made pizzas in the oven, along with some french fries. I hope Renee doesn't mind. She should get home from work in time for dinner being ready.

Whilst they are cooking, I go and empty all the bins into a large black trash bag. I go to every room, emptying them all. Once I've finished with that task, which takes much longer than it should do thanks to my sore arm, I carry the heavy bag to the bins out at the front of the house. After dumping it in one and closing the lid, I turn to make my way back up the porch steps and into the house. My mother pulls up just as I reach the top step.

I wait with the door open for her to come inside. There's no point in going in and closing it now that I've seen her and she's seen me. It would only annoy her anyway. I wait patiently. When I see her face as she stomps up the steps, I instantly cower away. She has a raged expression on her face. Her cheeks are flushed and her nostrils are flaring. Shit.

She pushes me inside hastily, knocking my sore arm and causing me to wince. As soon as the front door is closed, she starts on at me. "What are you doing?" she asks. I remain silent. I have no clue what I'm doing wrong. I think back to being stood outside, but come up with nothing. I am completely perplexed. "Aren't you going to Rosalie Hale's birthday party?" she asks sternly.

Huh?

I shake my head slowly. "And why not?" she asks, stepping towards me. I glance up at her face. She looks like a wild animal, skittish and on edge, asking me questions in quick succession.

"I wasn't invited," I answer, my voice quiet and timid. Renee scoffs, looking away from me for a moment before returning her gaze back to me. The change from angry and questioning, to dull and disappointed is so quick that it almost seems impossible.

"You're a disgrace, do you know that?" she snaps at me, placing her hands on her hips. I lower my head, my eyes falling to the floor. "You're so pathetic that you can't even get invited to a party that every God damn teenager in town is going to!" She begins walking back and forth in front of me, mumbling to herself under her breath. I stand stock still and watch her, afraid to move or speak at all.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen," she says suddenly, stopping and pointing a finger in my direction. "You're going to get up them stairs and get dressed into something, anything other than... that," she says, gesturing to my outfit with a look of disgust on her face. "And then you're going to go to that party and you're going to mingle. Talk to people."

I'm so shocked that my mouth drops open. I snap it closed, only for it to hang open again. "B-b-but... I wasn't invited. I'll never be allowed inside," I argue pathetically, after finally recovering from my shock.

"I don't care, Isabella. You'll do as I say. I'm already known as the woman who's daughter is a loner. I don't want be known as the woman who's daughter is such a useless piece of shit she didn't even go to the party everyone else's kid is going to. I will not be viewed any differently than my friends," she tells me, walking towards me slowly, moving a step with every sentence she says. I cower away, matching her steps with retreating ones of my own, but get obstructed when my back hits a wall.

"Okay," I whisper to the floor, slipping away from her to escape to my room.

"Shower, too. You stink."

A/N: So... what do you think will happen next? Please, don't hold back. Let me know in the reviews. I'm eager to know my readers' thoughts on this story.

See you Friday!