AN: Hey again! Glad people are enjoying the story. A lovely reader left a guest review asking why Beau doesn't get a ride to school from Edythe, leaving Bella full use of the truck. I honestly hadn't thought about it, but once I started to, I realised there's a combination of reasons.
On Beau's end, he does value the independence and flexibility he gets from driving himself to and from school. As I said in last chapter's AN, he and Edythe are far enough into their relationship to not be quite as clingy (for lack of a better word). Edythe is in a different grade and pretty much all different classes, so they have had to get used to not spending all their time together. When they first started dating, Edythe probably did give Beau a ride; she would have been claiming to be 16 or 17 by then, while Beau would still be on his learner's permit or very recently earned his driver's licence and, more importantly, didn't have his own vehicle. However, once he got the truck, he would want to start using it. Also, Beau and Bella are very emotionally close siblings who have spent most of their life physically apart; Beau wants to spend as much time with his sister as possible. For all his teasing and silliness, Beau really loves her and wants to protect and help her as much as he can, including making sure she gets safely where she needs to go every day. Their 'little sister/two minutes' banter is mostly a joke but he does in a way see himself as more her big brother than her twin.
For Edythe and the Cullens, it's all practicality. There are six of them in this universe, so they automatically need two cars; in my mind, five people in a Volvo was always a squeeze. Edward and Edythe are the best drivers, so they drive. They are also creatures of habit and typically travel in the same groupings, Edward, Alice and Jasper in the Volvo and the three other girls in Edythe's car (a white early 2000s Impala, in case you were wondering). Rosalie has not quite fully warmed up to Beau yet and wouldn't want to ride in a car with him every day; if Edythe wanted to pick him up on a regular basis, they would have to rearrange their seating, most likely switching the couples, which leaves Edward having to put up with Rosalie more than he would like and, more importantly, a nervous and mildly unstable Jasper in a small enclosed space with a human day in, day out. Alternatively, they would all ride in the Volvo, as in Twilight, with only Beau and Edythe in her car. Even if the siblings didn't pointblank refuse, Beau would be aware of the awkwardness he would cause and would choose to drive himself so as not to create unnecessary hassle or tension. If Edythe was driving Beau, politeness would compel her to extend an offer to Bella, which would force all four siblings to ride with Edward if they weren't already. This would horrify Bella, who also hates to cause problems; equally, she would end up feeling like an awkward third wheel. Keeping the families separate on their commutes just avoids all the potential problems and makes the most sense, to my mind at least.
Hope this very long and probably too in depth answer makes sense and answers your question :P
Chapter 2: Open Book
When the next Monday morning dawned, I was surprised to find that I actually felt more rested. I'd been running on fumes by Friday, unable to adjust to the constant drumming of rain on the roof enough to get any decent sleep, but I thought perhaps it hadn't rained quite as hard that night and as a result I hadn't woken as many times, hadn't taken quite so long to fall asleep. I didn't know whether to rejoice or despair that I was apparently acclimatising to Forks already.
It was business as usual all morning: Charlie left early, Beau and I ate breakfast and helped ourselves to lunch money; I drove to school, and he didn't have to remind me where to turn off the highway; I greeted our friends, as they had now become, and Edythe with a warmness that was distinctly more genuine; classes passed with their established level of tedium and predictability.
The one break in the pattern was the snow. It began drifting down just as we were leaving English, clumps of white cotton floating through the air and settling on everyone's hair. I pulled my hood up and made a face. McKayla, who I was learning could be very keen-eyed exactly when I didn't want her to be, noticed my disgust.
"Not fond of snow, Bella?" she asked coyly.
Beau, walking beside me, laughed. "Of course not, God forbid anything cold and wet has the audacity to land on my sister."
He tweaked the back of my hood, but I anticipated him and held it on with one hand.
"Snow just means it's too cold for rain. Besides, isn't it supposed to fall in flakes?" I complained. "Each one unique, and all that?"
This time, the whole group around me laughed.
"You've never actually seen snow, have you?" Erica chimed in from behind my shoulder.
"I have," I insisted stubbornly.
"In movies," Beau added, oh so helpful as always. I shoved him vengefully, sending him wheeling into Tyler as he approached from another building. The girls fell about laughing as Tyler made a show of catching and righting Beau, brushing imaginary dirt from his coat. They started discussing plans for a snowball fight after school, pre-emptively dividing the group into teams. I shook my head at the childishness and led the way into building 6 for Government.
By lunch, the snow was definitely sticking and, though it wasn't quite deep enough just yet, there were baby snowballs and handfuls of slush already flying as I walked to the cafeteria. Out of habit, my eyes scanned over the room as I waited in line with McKayla and Jeremy, like every day. The half of the group who always seemed to be dismissed earlier than us – Senor Goff had a habit of setting homework after the bell had rung – was already seated at our regular table, and all the Cullens but Edythe were in their place too. I stiffened; all of them were there. Edward's distinctive bronze hair stood out among the more common shades of his siblings. Eleanor was theatrically ringing snow-water out of her messy ponytail and the others were laughing at her antics. It was quite the cheerful picture; they were enjoying the snow day too. They looked a little more like a scene from a holiday romcom than the rest of us, of course. There was something different about the group as I studied them, and it took a moment for me to put my finger on it. I decided they all looked less pale, especially Edward. Probably flushed from their snowball fight.
The sight of Edward and the memory of his hateful looks last week set my stomach churning. Not trusting myself not to puke out of sheer nervousness, I chose a light lunch, just a plain cheese sandwich and a carton of milk. Hopefully the dairy would counterbalance the acid roiling in my gut.
I could see that my brother noticed my suddenly apprehensive mood, but he was kind enough not to mention it in front of everyone. Edythe, already settled beside him today, was also eying me as if expecting something, but didn't comment. It was Jeremy who first spoke to me, nudging me with his elbow.
"Hey, Bella, Edward Cullen's staring at you."
I stiffened, glancing at Edythe, but she seemed distracted by Beau.
"He doesn't look... angry, does he?" I asked nervously, whispering only loud enough to be heard by Jeremy.
"Um, no?" His reply was so perplexed, it came out sounding like a question. "Should he?"
"I guess not," I conceded, not elaborating; he had to have heard the story of Edward's strange reaction last week from McKayla.
As surreptitiously as I could, I looked over to the Cullens' table. Sure enough, the other four were back to gazing into space as usual, but Edward was conspicuously focused on me. Jeremy was right that his look wasn't angry; it was contemplative, searching, as if he were trying to figure out something about me that confused him. Perhaps a touch frustrated. It was no less intense than his glare, however. I could only hold my gaze on his for a few seconds before I felt the need to look away.
I resolved to keep my eyes on my table for the rest of lunch. And yet, my insatiable curiosity propelled me to turn to Edythe and say, "I'm glad your brother is feeling better."
She nodded once, tightly, a polite acknowledgment and no more. The one member of my brother's social circle – now mine too – that I should have been getting to know best was, paradoxically, the one that I still felt I knew least. We could never get past vague pleasantries and small talk; she seemed to be holding back from me for some reason I couldn't fathom.
My brother was on my side for once.
"Maybe he'll be in a better mood today," he chipped in, a note of prompting in his tone that she couldn't fail to recognise. "You know, if he's not feeling sick."
"Maybe," Edythe mused distantly, like she didn't much care either way. "I wouldn't hold out hope for any chatter from him, though. He's always been taciturn by nature."
As long as he doesn't glare, I thought to myself. He doesn't have to talk, but I can't handle another hour of that awful glare.
I nibbled at my sandwich, the anticipation of the next class period still twisting my stomach. The milk helped, but I was only able to force down half my food before the end of the lunch hour. Beau noticed; he held me up at the back of the group before we could go our separate ways.
"Ditch class if he's being awful again," he said softly, a fervent protective edge to his voice that was entirely new to me. "Tell Banner you feel sick and need to go to the nurse, it won't be a stretch with the way you look."
I bristled a little at that. Rude. "What kind of brother encourages his sister to skip school over some boy?"
"You'll catch up, you're smarter than most of the others," he insisted, confident in me rather than dismissive of our peers. "One class isn't worth you being miserable."
"I'll be fine, Beau," I said tersely, annoyed by his hovering. "I have to go, Angela's probably waiting to walk with me."
I strode away from his fussing, mercifully not tripping as I sped up. Angela was indeed waiting for me, as was McKayla; the former looked concerned, the latter, eager.
"Domestic dispute?" McKayla asked, joking and probing at the same time.
"Just sibling stuff," I replied dismissively. "Nothing to worry about."
McKayla looked like she wanted to press for more details, but Angela asked her a question about a piece of homework in another class they shared. Bless her. Angela was definitely turning out to be the best of my new friends.
There was a chorus of groans as the crowd of students got outside – it was raining, and the snow was rapidly washing away. I just smiled surreptitiously and put my hood up again.
We made our way into the classroom and I was ever so slightly relieved to see that my table was still empty. Edward hadn't arrived yet. Mr Banner was moving around the room distributing a microscope and box of slides to each pair.
Angela led McKayla away rather than letting her stand chattering at my table as she often did. I sat doodling absentmindedly on my notebook, a pattern of loops within loops in the top corner of the cover. The chair beside me scraped back and my pen faltered, missing a loop so the design became unbalanced. I braced myself for the hatred.
"Hello."
I looked up, startled to hear him actually speak to me. Like his sister, Edward had a melodic voice with a slightly otherworldly feeling to it, though of course his was at least an octave deeper. He was still sat as far from me as he could without leaving the desk, but he had angled his seat toward me today. His posture was open, just the barest hint of tension visible in the stiffness of his spine. I stared at him with my mouth open like a fish.
"I didn't get a chance to introduce myself last week," he went on when I said nothing. "My name is Edward Cullen. You must be Bella Swan."
He didn't offer his hand, just watched me expectantly. I nodded weakly.
"H-hi Edward," I said, hating how my voice cracked. I cleared my throat. "I'm glad you're better, your sister said you were sick."
He looked down with a soft half-smile, beautifully bashful. "Yes, thank you. A nasty stomach bug, I'm afraid. I must apologise for my frightful behaviour last week. I was already feeling the beginnings of my illness and it had me in a foul temper. Please forgive me."
I had already noticed the somewhat antiquated way that Edythe sometimes spoke, her words and cadence seeming to come from another time. Edward spoke in just the same way.
"It's fine," I muttered, averting my gaze from his piercing look. There was something different, beyond his calmer mood, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
Mr Banner started class then, explaining the lab we were going to be doing today. The boxes of slides were onion root tip cells representing phases of mitosis, but they were out of order. We had to work together, without our books, to identify the stages and write them on our worksheets.
"Get started," he ordered, and the room immediately hummed with conversation and the clinking of glass.
"Ladies first, partner?" Edward said, calm and composed, though I felt sure there was still a tense set to his shoulders.
I pulled the microscope closer to me, slid in slide number one and looked through the eye piece. It wasn't hard to identify.
"That's prophase," I said confidently, reaching for the next slide.
"Mind if I check?"
He reached out to stop me changing the slide, our hands connecting ever so slightly. His fingers were icy cold, like his sister, as if he'd been holding them in a snow drift before class. Unlike with his sister, a spark of electricity jolted through me, centred on the point where our skin touched. I jerked my hand back sharply, as if I'd been burned. Edward retracted his hand too, muttering an apology, then reached for the microscope again, carefully avoiding touching me. He drew it towards himself, glanced into the eye piece for just a fraction of a second then said, "Prophase," and wrote the word neatly on the top line of our sheet. His handwriting was gorgeous, like calligraphy but apparently requiring a fraction of the effort for him. He'd filled out our names too, without me noticing; 'Bella Swan' had never looked so pretty.
Edward deftly changed out the slides, took another too-fast glance through the microscope and muttered, "Anaphase," as he filled in the next line.
"Can I check?" I asked, echoing his earlier question.
He looked amused but passed me the microscope. I had to look at it just a little longer than he had, but I saw at once that he was right. Weirdly, both those facts annoyed me.
"Anaphase." I agreed, trying to sound breezy and unaffected.
"Like I said," was his matter-of-fact response.
We completed the lab like that, passing the microscope back and forth, each checking the other's assessment and taking turns to swap the slides. When he had to pass me one, he dropped it into my hand without touching me. Had he felt that strange charge too?
We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see McKayla and her partner comparing two slides over and over, and the pair in front of us had their book open under the table. I went back to doodling on my notebook. I had the peculiar sensation that I was being watched; sure enough, when I turned my head, Edward was staring at me. He looked as if he was about to say something, but Mr Banner approached us.
"Taking a break?" he asked in a tone aiming for casual but just a tad too close to reprimanding. He saw our completed sheet and spun it towards himself, glancing down the list then checking our answers more carefully.
"Well, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should have a chance to join in? Putting her name on the sheet doesn't guarantee her the credit, you know."
"Bella," Edward corrected, which startled me. Even Beau didn't do that. "And she actually identified three out of five."
"We checked each other's work," I chimed in. For some reason, it felt wrong for him to downplay his part like that.
Mr Banner looked surprised, then thoughtful. "Have you done this lab before?"
"Not with onion root," I admitted.
"White fish blastula?"
"Yes sir."
"Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"
I felt myself go pink. So far, I'd managed to avoid being outed as a total nerd, but that was apparently over.
"Yes, I was."
"Hm." Mr Banner eyed us both once more, then shrugged slightly. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing you two are partners."
He walked away to check on some other pairs. Edward was still staring at me, that look of some kind of unmet expectation back in his eyes.
"What?" I asked, a little terse. He was beginning to annoy me.
"Nothing," he said, quiet, thoughtful. Then he changed the subject. "It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?"
I wrinkled my nose. "Not really. My brother was planning some kind of battle of the blizzard after school. At least now we can go straight home."
"You don't like the cold very much."
It was a statement – a weirdly amused statement – but I answered as if it were a question.
"No, not really. I take after my mom that way, I guess. I don't love the wet either."
"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused, still eyeing me speculatively.
"You have no idea," I muttered blackly.
"Then may I ask why you came?"
No one had asked me that, so blunt and sudden. I assumed Beau had explained it in some way to everyone who mattered; Edward had to have heard it from Edythe. Did he really not pay attention to anything?
"Well, you might have heard from Beau," I said, watching his face carefully, hoping it would give something away. "Our mother got remarried."
"Ah." It was a sound of understanding, like suddenly everything made sense to him. "I do recall. You invited my sister."
"That's right. But you guys were busy, I think."
He hummed and deftly returned to the topic at hand, apparently refusing to be distracted. "And you don't like him."
Another assumption. This guy thought he had me pegged.
"No, Phil is fine. A little young, maybe, but he makes her happy."
"Then why?" He looked so confused, like I was presenting him with a complex math problem.
I decided to stop being coy. "Didn't Beau tell you all of this? Or Edythe?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, the picture of chagrin. "Would you be terribly annoyed if I said I wasn't quite listening?"
I smiled, just a little. Oh, I've got your number, mister.
I threw the poor boy a lifeline. "Phil plays ball for a living. Not well," I hastened to add. "Strictly minor league. But he travels a lot, and he's in the market for a new team. My mom stayed with me at first, but I could tell she missed him."
"So, she sent you here so she could travel with him."
Yet another assumption, supremely confident this time. Where does he get off on deciding he knew my family so well?
"No one sent me," I replied acerbically. "I sent myself. She'll be happier out in Florida with him."
"But now you're unhappy."
"And?" I countered.
He was sad now, with a knowing tinge, like he'd figured out something about me that he didn't like. "That doesn't seem very fair."
"Didn't anyone ever tell you?" I said with a shrug. "Life isn't fair. Besides, it's not all bad. I have Beau, and Charlie – I mean, my dad. They're worth a few months of cold and wet."
Edward studied my face for a moment with an intensity that was starting to make me uncomfortable.
"You put on a good show," he said softly. "But I'd be willing to bet you're suffering more than you let anyone see. Even your brother."
I laughed once without much humour. He looked thrown by that reaction, and I answered his unspoken question.
"My mother always calls us her open books, Beau and I both. She says it's why we're so bad at lying, everyone can tell what we're thinking like it's projected on our foreheads."
Edward thought about that. "I can see it, for Beau. But I'm afraid I find you very hard to read."
"You must be a good reader," I said flippantly, trying to lighten the mood.
He didn't bite, staying deadly serious. "Usually."
With his eyes burning into mine so forcefully, I finally pinpointed what had changed about him, the thing that had been eluding me.
"Did you get contacts?" I blurted, like an idiot.
He frowned. "No, why?"
"Oh," I huffed, the wind going out of my sails slightly. "I just... thought there was something different about your eyes. Sorry."
He hummed noncommittally, turning away from me. His shoulders, which had been gradually relaxing, tensed again.
In fact, I was sure that his eyes had changed. I would never, as long as I lived, forget the black holes of fury that they had been last week. Today, they were a completely different colour, a strange shade of tawny gold, like the pelt of a lion I had once seen on a trip to the Natural History Museum.
Mr Banner called everyone back together then, going through the lab and pointing out the things we should have noticed on transparencies on the overhead projector. I made careful notes, even though I knew it all already. Edward took no notes, seeming preoccupied with something. When the bell rang, he shot out of his seat once again, out of the door before anyone else had picked up their bag.
"He is so weird!" McKayla griped from behind me as I watched the empty doorway.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Weird."
