A/N: Hello all you wonderful people! As you may have noticed I haven't posted anything in a long time - exam year, hurrah. I hope you like this chapter and please do comment on whether it was good (or bad) or what you would like to see in the future ^-^

Grey skies were reflected in the puddles on the sidewalk and the street, and they were still growing and flowing due to the constant heavy rain that mercilessly beat down on the umbrellas and raincoats of the occasional passer-by. Not that the latter wasn't used to it. This also happened to be the day that I had decided that I should pay a visit to the local library after school. It was the Tuesday after the trip to La Push Beach, and after two brighter and warmer days the clouds had returned from the sea, and as a result the temperature had dropped instantly to a mere 44 degrees.

Absentmindedly I tugged at the sleeve of my raincoat as I beheld the library, a one-storey building of red bricks at the corner of two streets. A car politely waited for me when I hurried across the road to find shelter underneath the roof held up by rustic reddish brown pillars. Shoved against the wall was a whiteboard with the opening hours and an announcement for an upcoming book sale. There I took off my wet coat before entering through the glass door.

Two of the people glanced up at the sound of the door opening and the rain outside, but that was only a reflex. The librarian, or I assumed he was, nodded in acknowledgement and greeted with a "How are you?" to which I replied in a similar fashion. The pepper-and-salt haired man then returned to his work behind the small counter. I wiped my feet and hung my coat on the full coat rack. They had placed rubber mats underneath so as to spare the wooden flooring somewhat.

The interior was a far cry from what Phoenix had to offer concerning libraries, but in a good way. The dark grey walls with white bookshelves in front, the wooden flooring and in the centre green and beige sofas, wooden chairs and desks, and a cosy fireplace. The rustic pillars were also present inside, and the windows and ceiling lights provided plenty of brightness to read comfortably.

Among the few people present I recognised a senior student from high school, and around the unlit fireplace a brown-haired girl from one grade lower and.. Dominique? They were busy studying with both library- as schoolbooks to guide them, and currently they were caught in an animated conversation. There were two green sofas opposite of the fireplace, and these were the ones they had occupied. From where I stood I could only see Dominique's dark curls bound together in a ponytail, and the brown-haired girl with freckles. The latter was wearing a beanie on top of her braided hair (in pigtails).

I didn't quite feel the need to disturb their business, and neither was I in the mood for socializing. Instead I moved to the first shelf and prayed they wouldn't notice me.

Abbey… Abbott… Abel…

The books had been sorted by category and alphabetically by the author's surname, and I studied the covers carefully from a polite distance, only to step forward to take one out and read the summary if any on the back.

Cliff… Coates… Cohen… Coleridge.

That last one drew my attention, it being a famous name. The Lyrical Ballads. So far I'd only heard of that title, it had brought forth quite a change in poetry and literature in Britain, and subsequently in North-America and the rest of Europe. The bundle had a simple brown hardcover, with the title and authors' names in small golden letters on the front.

LYRICAL BALLADS, WITH A FEW OTHER POEMS. LONDON. Printed for J. & A. Arch, Gracechurch-street, 1798.

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner PART I

An ancient Mariner meeteth three gallants bidden to a wedding feast, and detaineth one.

IT is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. 'By thy long beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

After the first few verses I decided to borrow this bundle. I held it close and continued my search. The more letters of the alphabet passed, the closer did the back of the library and thus Dominique and her friend come, who hadn't noticed me – yet.

Kosinski… Kraft… Kramer… Krueger…

In a swift movement I pulled my hair from behind my ears so that it fell in front of my face, in the hopes of it helping me pass unnoticed. My behaviour at this point might look in contradiction to how I would react upon seeing a friend from school, but the point was that today I didn't really feel like being compelled to conversate – at school it was fine, but now, at 4:45 PM, I'd rather spend the afternoon on my own. Allow thoughts to be sorted out. The nightmares that had kept me awake the previous night had left me quite tired, and tiredness, I had learnt, often caused impolite behaviour.

Nordhoff… Norman… Norris…

"Avery? Hey, how are you?"
I closed my eyes for a second, plastered a polite (yet faux) smile on my face and turned around to face Dominique, who now sat backwards on the sofa.

"Oh, hi Dominique. How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks. We're busy for geo, still 5 exercises to go. Yay." She gestured to the books around her.

"Ugh, don't remind me," the freckled girl groaned, and dramatically covered her face. "I still've got like loads of work to do."

Dominique smirked and looked up at me. "This is Sarah Collins, she's one grade lower."

Sarah removed her hands and sat back up, the books on her lap shifted. "Yeah, and guess which subject was to blame me not passing? That trip to La Push was nice, but now I've gotta catch up with like all my subjects."

Dominique snickered and patted her friend on the head. "And that's why I didn't go, I have a history assignment due soon which is far from easy."

Sarah nodded solemnly when a thought stroke her. "Oh by the way, Avery; why did you leave earlier? Saturday I mean. At least, I didn't see you after we, like, went to the caves."

My mind raced to come up with a proper argument. My fingers got hold of a loose thread in the stitching. "I was just tired, I fathom. My health has not been all too good last week." Not to mention the anxious feeling that welled up in my chest. I did not intend to lie to the girls, but neither could I tell them that the newly arrived group last Saturday had aroused a defensiveness within me – the dormant danger that had come off them.

Dominique had conjured a new string from who knows where, and was creating small art pieces without looking. "Yeah, that's right. You didn't miss much though." She pondered over it for a moment. "Nope, can't come up with anything extraordinary. You?"

She shared a look with Sarah, who shrugged. "Me either. But the boys from the Reservation were, like, kinda cute. Especially the one with the dimpled chin. His name was something like E… Not Elias.. Eric? No. They had like these really different names."

Dominique sighed. "C'mon Sarah, don't fawn over every boy you meet, it's getting annoying."

Sarah shot her a pointed look. "..says the one who like can't stop rambling about sport idols."

"Like."

She hit Dominique's knee in frustration. "Stop it. I can't like do anything-" She cringed at her own words. "Ugh, never mind."

Dominique laughed and faced me. "She's been trying to find a date for prom, but almost every guy has been asked my someone already. That's the downside of living in a town: too little cute boys."

"If only I'd asked E's phone number, then I like might've had a date by now. Do you think that'd be allowed?" she mused.

Dominique shrugged. "Probably. Why not? How about you Avery?"

So far I had listened politely to their banter, attempting to remove myself from the conversation slowly. Clearly it had not worked.

"To be honest, I am yet uncertain whether I will attend the dance in the first place. I have been living here for only three months after all."

Dominique waved it off. "Don't worry, we'll cover your back. But really, you have to come! Except for prom at the end of the year this is the only time it's legit to dress up! There'll be these beautiful decorations in and around school, and Damien will take care of good music and everything. Andrew better not mess up again," she added under her breath, suddenly dark.

Sarah hadn't heard the last part, and shared Dominique's dreamy vision. "And we'll all be wearing long beautiful gowns and the boys in tuxedo's, kyaa! Can you imagine, a first kiss at prom, so romantic!"

Dominique rolled her eyes. "But if dreamy little Sandradee here doesn't find herself a date, we can also go together instead of having to drag a guy around." Sarah closed her books and placed them aside as she listened to Dominique with a huff. "You could come dress-shopping with us on Saturday, she," Dominique pointed at the girl next to her, "still needs something to wear."

I cocked my head to the side, half-curious. "How about you then? At least, I assume formal attire is obligated?"

Dominique crossed her legs and hummed disapprovingly. "My mom wants me to wear one of her dresses, saves money. Until I find myself a job I can't buy my own clothes, she says."

A dimple formed between Sarah's chocolate eyes. "I already told you I can lend you the money, then you can, like, pay it back when you've saved some in the future. Chocolate bars would be fine too."

"No Sare," she shot back, "I'm a responsible and honest adolescent. And besides, I'm going to ask Brandon Smithson if I can get a job as a waitress at the café down the road."

Sarah knitted her eyebrows together. "I hope you don't mean the Rain Drop Café? 'Cause that one's, like, always got too many employees. Hate to break it to you, but it's like sort of impossible to get in there."

There was evident smugness in Dominique's voice when she replied: "Well, Brandon, the owner," she explained to me, "happens to be a friend of the family. My mom used to go to high school with him, and Jeremy's at the same university as Chris so I think I stand a pretty good chance."

I did not have the slightest idea of who Jeremy and Chris might be, but I hummed approvingly to satisfy her and pretend to show interest in the subject. While it was true that I did not mind listening to and learning about the lives of my classmates and friends, and even would encourage it were we at school, at this moment I still attempted to 'escape'.

"Well, I'm happy being a cashier," Sarah stated matter-of-factually. You should come work with us if the café doesn't work out."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm sure about that chance."

Sarah shrugged, and then seemed to, again, remember something concerning me. "Oh hey Avery, my dad said that he saw you like this morning with the newspapers when he was in the shop of our bakery. Do you have a new job or something?"

I confirmed the rumour.

Some weeks ago I had signed up for distributing a local newspaper, so as to earn some bit. Every morning at around 5 AM a pile would be ready I the mail storage room at the town's periphery, +- 500 copies. In distribution terms Forks and its surrounding land was split up in five different sections: The northern part of town, the southern part, the West including the road to La Push, the North in the direction of Sappho, and the Southwest along the river Calawah, where also my house stood. The fact that I had a driver's licence most definitely worked in my advantage, though I preferred to walk with each time a pile of newspapers on one arm or in a shoulder bag, whichever was more convenient. As you may have guessed I had been assigned to the southern district in town. Between 6 and 7 the few birds that were still here would begin to sing, and the first cars would pass. I had to make sure that everything had been delivered around 8, so that I would have enough time to get to school.

"But back to your statement earlier: does your family own the bakery?"

Sarah nodded. "Yep. The maker of bread since like 19-something. If it wasn't for my father I'd be working over there, but he thinks I'm still too young to handle it on my own." She rolled her eyes. "But yeah."

"You know, I always wanted to ask: do you eat home-made bread?" Dominique wondered, to which Sarah snickered.

"No shit Sherlock."

In the meanwhile I had decided that L till Z would have to wait for now, just as the other sections. "At any rate," I began, accidentally interrupting Dominique who had just started a sentence, "I have to go.."

Dominique looked slightly disappointed, but she still had a comeback to make. "Oh, okay. See you at school then!"

"Yeah bye!" Sarah chimed in, and I bid them another good bye before moving to the front of the library as quickly as possible without looking impolite or in a hurry. The books I placed on the counter, and the librarian put them under my name and a stamp with the date to return on a slab of paper in the front of each book. We bid each other a good day and with my now partially-dry-but-mainly-wet coat I exited the library through the glass door.

Outside I took a moment to recompose myself.

Right.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighed, attempted to push the dark cloud of bad feelings away, and tried to clear my thoughts.

That did not exactly go as planned. And unless I actually am going to tell them that I have to refuse the offer of a day out, they are certainly going to take me along… Strange that a girl whom I do not know went along with Dominique's proposal.

I elected to allow fate to decide. If it were to be, then let it be. After all, the prospect of a day with three dress-obsessed teenagers might not be as daunting a task as it seemed right now. Feigning a smile was always an option.

I crossed the street to my car quickly, books clutched to my chest. One of them was a book on modern violin music – composing was alongside gardening a hobby of mine, especially the violin as I play it myself. It was my most precious property despite it having been used quite the number of times before my ownership of it. Second-hand was the word generally used for this, though the term did not have my preference as it was often regarded as a bad thing nowadays. I obviously did not agree. Why would sharing the world's resources so as to say it be negative, or socio-economic status-related? Instead of throwing items away or accumulating unused objects it ought to be logical to sell them or give them away to someone who needed it. This way the waste of fossil fuels and other earth's resources would effectively decrease seeing that the demand and thus the production would drastically lessen. Economically seen this would most likely be catastrophic, but everything taken into account it would be one of the better things to do.

I fumbled with the keys to open the car, and gently placed the books on a back seat, next to a bag with seeds of spices I'd bought myself prior to the trip to the library. It being the 7th of March already, I had cleared a space in my garden-to-be and filled several pots with earth to grow plants, flowers and spices in. The basil, peppers, mint, thyme and rosemary would have to be placed in pots within the month, whereas the others such as chamomile, dill and lavender could be sowed in April in the garden itself.
"Ah thought ya weren't a saettler."

My stomach churned upon hearing an all too familiar voice behind me. I whipped my head around. The parking lot was just as empty as it was before.
After a few seconds I breathed out, feeling my heart flutter. It's nothing, I attempted to reassure myself. Just imagination. To convince myself I spied my surroundings, but apart from the few cars on the parking lot, it was devoid from human beings. It is all in your mind, not a thing to preoccupy yourself about. Seeing as I still could not see a possible source of the sound, I turned back to my Mustang to resettle the bag and books in a way that they wouldn't topple over during the ride, and closed the door to step in on the other side. There is no one, it was not real.

Like usual the interior also turned wet, or at least humid, because of the rain in and on my coat, but that was to be expected. Just as I was about to ignite the engine, a voice sounded from the back seat, turning my blood to ice.

"Huh. When have yah gone all flowahr-power?"
With a look of disdain Pamela, short 'Pam', stared at the mass of wrinkled leaves on the window sill. She picked up the blue flower pot the plants were in and turned it around. "Or are yah making pot or somethin'?" Her black hair was neatly tied underneath a yellow-white headband, which matched her yellow button-up dress with white-edged pockets and a white strap around her waist. A cigarette air followed every moment. She placed the flower pot back down.
"Hyptis crenata," I whispered absent-mindedly, attempting to hold my breath.
"Hythewhat?"
"Brazilian mint."
Pam huffed and turned to face me with one raised eyebrow. "Yea, well the black eyes tell a different stohry!"

Knock knock

I shot to the side, shaken. A face under a broad hat had appeared in front of the car window.
"Mr Hudson," I whispered/realised after a short moment, and the man waved. I shook my head mildly to return to the here and now, and in a fluent motion I took the keys from the contact and stepped out of the car. Compose yourself.

"Mr Hudson!" I repeater, louder. "How.. how pleasant to see you again on this, well, rainy day."

Humour and worry reflected in his eyes – only now I noticed they were grey. A smile settled on his features. He was still wearing a bus driver's uniform, therefore I assumed he had only just finished his shift.

"My, the pleasure's all mine! But are you alright, miss? You seemed far away."
I shrugged apologetically. "Lost in thought, I suppose."
He nodded. "Ah, well," He cleared his throat. "But it's been a while now, hasn't it?"

I clasped my hands in front of me out of habit. "It has, has it not? As about my being; I myself am in good health," Physically, my mind retorted darkly, "how about you, sir?"

He readjusted his hat with a short laugh. "I'm good, I'm good, but I believe I told you to call me Owen, haven't I? Or have I?" He was confused for a moment, and then shrugged to himself. "Well, no need to be that polite in this town."

"My apologies – it is more or less a habit of mine to use formalities. I fear that you might have to repeat your request more often in the future. Have you been to Port Angeles today?"

He sighed wearily, but his voice remained positive. "Among others. Once to Port Angeles, twice to Callam Bay and up and down to La Push for the remainder of the day."

I frowned upon seeing the tiredness break through. "Do you not enjoy your work?"

He looked at me with surprise. "Oh no, except for maybe fishing this is what I love most doing. But you see, this body is growing old. Long shifts take more energy than they used to, 'specially the knees." His eyes drifted off to the street, caught up in a memory. "I used to be able to go on for days, but these days driving for four hours already bothers me for the remainder of the day."

My frown deepened. "That does not sound very healthy. Perhaps taking a short break would be wise?"

He shook his head and frowned, too. "Won't do. I'll rust if I'm going to sit still, if I stop now I'll never be able to get on the road again."

The rain had penetrated my shoes and cold water began to soak my socks.

"I'm seeing the doctor next week Friday, we'll see what he thinks." He was silent for a moment, staring off into the distance. His wrinkles accentuated the frown that was still present. He then broke the silence by changing the subject. "But back to you. How have you so far experienced living here in Forks?"

A worried part of me had not yet let go of the state of his well-being, but I managed to place the former smile on my face. "As you have said yourself back then, it is quite an unique place to be. Everyone appears to be acquainted in some way, and the natural environment is simply stunning."

He nodded approvingly and stuck his hands in his deep pockets. "Yes, yes, that's very true. Ah, it's been too long since I've visited Mt. Olympus and the Windy Arm myself... I should warn you though, at this time it's bear season and after winter they're the most violent cause they're searching for food. Better wait till it's summer, when they're more at ease."

The water had formed a pool in my shoes. "I see, I will remember your advice. But as much as I hate to change the subject, we are becoming quite wet. Can I invite you for coffee at a nearby café?"

Mr. Hudson, clear-sighted as he was, glanced down at my feet and laughed. "Getting wet feet, aren't you? As for the coffee; I'd love to, but it's getting late – me and my wife are visiting the grandkids in Port Crescent. She'll be wondering what's keeping me so long."

I laughed understandingly. "Alright, another time then. I wish you a pleasant day."

"Will do, have a nice day." He tipped his hat with a smile and turned to continue his way. I had sploshing shoes. It would be useless to try driving with wet feet, and so I leaned with my back against the door of the car and managed with great effort to remove the brown laced shoes and dripping socks from my feet. When I held said footwear upside-down there was literally water pouring from them. I placed them in front of the co-driver seat. The car was wet anyway. I would've placed them in the trunk, but walking barefoot in winter: not a bright idea.

The next day at school was a busy one, seeing as I had to catch up with some of the projects done last week when I had been absent. Most of it I had been able to do on Monday and Tuesday, but then there were still the subjects that had to be done at school, such as Chemistry, which I was allowed to do during lunch hour. Setting Magnesium on fire and putting the Lewis Structures and Molecular Shapes to practice. Mrs. Morrison thought it was funny, seeing as my last name was.. also Lewis! Believe me when I say that it was far from amusing.

It was not until the first bell rang that I realized what time it was. Late.
I swiftly scribbled down the end of the sentence and stuffed back the blue pen in a similar colored pencil case. I took off the white lab coat to place it back on the coat rack, the goggles in a wooden bin and all the different instruments I had used in their proper places. Just as the second bell rang I scooped up my books and hurried out of the chemistry laboratory. The hallway was empty, as to be expected. Fortunately building 2 and 3 were 'under the same roof' so as to say, it was one building, but different parts within it.
The door of the room was already closed when I arrived, and the noise within implied that class had long started. It was Wednesday, groupwork day. Mr. Howard was probably minding his own business and let the students continue their project independently, hence I needn't knock. I hoped.
The door didn't make much noise in general, yet upon me entering the room the majority turned their heads, but their interest was quickly pulled back to their neighbor.

First, I quietly approached Erik and Andrew, who were stuck at one sentence. The both of them looked up, and I handed Erik a tattered, water-damaged notebook.

"Thank you for allowing me to borrow your notes, you have a very clear handwriting."

He shot a quick smile and shrugged. "No problem." The notebook was thrown onto a small pile of books on the corner of his table.

Just as I turned away, Andrew suddenly spoke up: "You're that southerner right, Dominique's friend?"

The way he spoke Dominique's name gave me a sudden dislike of him: he spoke of her as if she was someone to laugh at.

"As a matter of fact, I am, yes," I confirmed, a bit puzzled. He stared at me with his cold blue eyes for a good minute. An uncomfortable feeling crept up to me, had I done something wrong? Was he angry with my response? Was he trying to figure something out? Why did he remain silent? But before I could do or say anything he stopped me with his tenor voice.

"Do you know what ἢλθόν means again? It's not anywhere in the dictionary."

I exhaled in relief that the silence was broken, and bent slightly forward to see how said word was written. "Hm, it might be a form of ἂγω, the –ov ending meaning it is an imperfectum form... But you shouldn't trust my judgement on this, Greek is not my best subject," I joked with a smile.

His eyes drifted back to the paperwork beforehand. "Yeah, you're probably right, thanks." He then reinitiated the discussion with his neighbor, giving me the opportunity to escape to my own desk.

For a change both me and Edward were present at the same time: yesterday and the day before it had been him who was absent, and the week before I had not attended school. Not to mention my backlog with groupwork resulting from a missed Wednesday was awful.

A side thought arose concerning the manner in which people nowadays greeted one another in the afternoon – good afternoon? That was a little too formal, now wasn't it? Hello? Hey? How are you? I arrived earlier at my desk than at an answer to that question. Oh well.

I pulled the chair back to sit down and something like this came out: "Umm hi. Uhm." Honestly you'd think my speech skills would be a lot better than that by now. I swore Edward found it rather amusing, because when he faced me there was a glint of humor in his amber eyes.
"How are you today?"
I sat down and placed the pile of paper and chemistry books in front of me. "Hmm, I'm good. And you?"
He nodded. "The same counts for me."
"I apologize for not having been present last week, I was ill and then Monday you weren't here either so I translated the remainder of 4C if you don't mind.." I had opened my notebook so as to sort of show him the page as proof. Mentally I rolled my eyes at myself. Smooth.
"That is alright; I came to 4D myself." He showed me his own notes, written in a practiced, elegant handwriting.
I smiled, feeling a bit more relieved. "Oh that is great! Can I perhaps borrow your notebook this afternoon so that I can copy it at home?" I asked in the hope that he would have no objection. "Then we can continue working on the other texts this hour."
His voice was still neutral, but not unkind, when he replied: "Certainly, I agree with your plan. Shall we start at sentence 412?"
As always Edward Cullen was reserved and closed, yet never since that first day had I caught him being unkind in any way. This only arose more questions about that first encounter, but I put it off as a mystery that would solve itself someday. I had to, there were more urgent mysteries at hand. Such as Andrew, what had triggered his odd reaction when he mentioned Dominique? With.. disdain? His strange behavior puzzled me. They were acquainted, like every other person present in the school and, I daresay, the entire town. But Dominique had never mentioned him. Come to think of it, they were never even on the same side of the room. In the cafeteria Andrew and his group of friends usually sat on the opposite side of the room, the side Dominique always, and then I mean always, had her back turned to. Was she evading him?

"They have a history, the two of them."
I hadn't realized I was staring at Andrew until Edward spoke up with his velvet voice. I turned my head to look at him.
"I overheard your conversation," Edward admitted shamelessly.
I frowned. "What do you mean, 'they have a history'?"
His eyes flickered to Andrew. "They used to be a couple.. or so I have heard. But I suppose they can explain it better to you themselves."
My mind was spinning. They.. a couple?! But that didn't make sense.. Encroiable, my first guess would be something like Andrew having prejudices about Dominique or something along those lines. But a couple…

Edward did not disclose any more information after that and I didn't dare to ask. Not even after class when I saw Dominique I dared to bring up the topic, first I'd have to gather more.. second-hand information.

After school Bella and I went to the Swan residence. Her roaring truck rode in front and set the speed, which was a little under 50. If it were to go any faster I was afraid that it might ramble itself apart. But the red monstrosity was persistent and the both of us arrived safe and sound. To our surprise Chief- Charlie's cruiser was parked in front of the house, which either meant that he was home early or that something had happened in the neighborhood. The latter seemed unlikely.
Bella slammed the car door shut behind her, frowning. "That's weird. Charlie is never early."
Quietly I followed her inside where the sound of a baseball match engulfed us. We took off our coats and Bella immediately headed for the living room whilst I went to make tea in the kitchen. I may or may not have overheard them, which wasn't too hard with an open door.
"Hey dad."
"Hey Bells, how was school?" came the reply.
"It was ok, I guess. Why are you home so early?" Bella asked straight to the point. The water was meanwhile heating up nicely.
"Oh, there was nothing to do really. Pete was organizing files and Miles and Richard are out patrolling so they suggested I'd go home early."
"Oh, okay. By the way, Avery's here too, she's in the kitchen."
There was a short silence in which I reached for the tea bags and coffee pads in an overhead cupboard.
"Hey Bells," Charlie began hesitantly in a hushed voice, "I was wondering, have you ever met her parents? I mean I've never heard about them in town, not even from Mrs. Anderson," he added meaningfully.
Bella sighed. "She doesn't have any parents dad. They died when she was young." She had lowered her voice even more, but I could still clearly hear them.
"Oh. Uhm." Charlie sounded surprised and a bit awkward maybe. "Right. So, she's living all on her own or something?" he quickly jumped to the next question.
At this point Bella's voice turned to this seemingly emotionless tone which implied tiredness, boredom, absent-mindedness, frustration or disinterest, depending on the situation. I had made my own analysis about her voice and facial expressions: at first she may seem unreadable but once you got to know her you'd realize she was in fact an open book. She bit her lip when she was lying for example, and had a nail biting problem whenever she got nervous. "Yes. It's a governmental thing. You'll have to ask her about it if you want to know."
"Right."
Next there were footsteps to be heard, meaning Bella had gone upstairs: I had become nearly furniture in the past months so as to say, so it wasn't odd that both Bella and me would do as we pleased.

At last the water was boiling and I filled three cups, two for tea and one for the instant coffee I'd found instead. Passion fruit flavor for Bella seeing as she loved the exotic taste, black coffee for Charlie and green tea for myself.
Unfazed by the overheard conversation I carefully brought the cups with me to the living room (which is a skill, believe me) and set them down on the table. As previously guessed Charlie was watching baseball from his favorite chair.
"Hello Charlie." With a smile I looked up from the coffee table. "Here is some coffee, I thought you might want one."
He looked away from the screen with a hint of surprise. "Oh, hello Avery. Thank you."
I sat down on the small couch and held the hot cup in my hands.
"How are you?" he asked as he returned to watch the game. Or match, whatever the term is.
"I'm fine, how about you?"
He cleared his throat and reached for the coffee. "I'm good. Usually busy with work, but yeah."
It was silent for a moment and I heard Bella scurry around in her room. She would come downstairs again before long.
"But, um, Avery," Charlie suddenly began uncomfortably, "do you know if Bella's always been so.." he was looking for the right word, "displeased with Forks?"
First I was a bit puzzled how his train of thought had gone from my home situation to Bella's wellbeing, then I continued to listen after a mental shrug.
"Because, well, when she used to visit she'd always be a bit happier to come here. And now.."
I watched the water vapor twirl upwards from the hot liquid in my cup. I understood Charlie's concerns, he was her father after all. "Bella has a minor case of seasonal affective disorder," I confessed. "And now that she has shifted from warm and sunny to grey and overcast I suspect that there's a vitamin D deficiency playing a role in this as well," I stated, thinking back to the times when clouds had found their way to Phoenix for a considerable amount of time. As the days had gone by Bella had grown grumpier, she'd remained indoors and there had been little that could please or motivate her. Much like now. "Has she seen a doctor during the past months yet?" I looked over at Charlie, whose thoughts were clearly somewhere else than with the game.
"Not yet, surprisingly," he mused. "I think that I'll make a call soon then.."

As if on cue Bella came walking down the stairs, completely oblivious to the conversation that had just taken place. She had changed into a comfortable bordeaux sweater as opposed to the green blazer she had previously been wearing. Quietly she settled next to me on the couch and picked up her cup of tea to cool her beverage down by blowing on it.
For a while all that was heard were the commentator on TV and the sound of living human beings.
"Oh by the way, Charlie-" Bella began to say but then corrected herself: "Dad, next weekend Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses in Port Angeles for the dance." She took a sip and watched closely if Charlie was listening. "Is it alright if I go with them?"
Her question surprised me in a sense, only because I hadn't heard of the plan before now. Charlie frowned and turned away from the TV. "I thought you said you didn't want to go to the dance?"
That I did expect.
Bella sighed. "No dad, but I'm helping them to find dresses. Giving them constructive criticism you know? And it doubles as Jessica's birthday party as well, she's having a sleepover later that night but I didn't want to stay for that," she said in a negotiating way.
Charlie seemed to have his doubts. "What time will you be back?"
"Probably before eight, we're leaving on Saturday in the afternoon."
Charlie sighed and frowned. "Well okay then."
Bella smiled. "Thanks dad. Will you be fine with dinner?"
To this the frown disappeared and was replaced by a smile. "Bells, I've been looking after myself for longer than you, I'll be able to handle one day."
Bella's smile became more sincere. "Sure you do."