Jake's motorcycle rumbled into the parking lot and drew all eyes in its direction. I buried my face into the back of his shoulder, blushing.

He pulled up right at the foot of the steps. I dismounted as gracefully as I could while he stayed seated. I wrestled my brand new helmet into its bag. It was one of the best on the market, Charlie had made sure of that. He didn't approve of the bikes but, in his words, "if you're going to do it, just make sure you're being safe." It was a thinly veiled euphemism. Thinking back on it made my blush intensify.

"I'll pick you up after school?" Jake asked. "It'll take a little while to get over here from the res but if you're happy to wait?"

"Yeah, absolutely," I told him. "Now go, I don't want you to be late for school."

And then I kissed him goodbye. This wasn't just a peck-on-the-cheek, see-you-later, thanks-for-stopping-by kiss. This was a boyfriend-girlfriend kiss. Boyfriend. It was still so, so weird thinking of Jake as my boyfriend. But when we kissed, it felt natural. His lips were soft and perfectly shaped for mine. Our kisses weren't reserved like the ones I'd known before. We were open and upfront in our affections. No holding back.

Was this how love was supposed to be?

I pulled away while I still could, before I would want more. His smile was glorious and it was all for me. But then he put the bike in gear and rode off. Like a cloud moving in front of the sun. It was okay. I knew the sun was still there and it would come back. Of course, now I was alone and people were staring. Maybe holding back had its merits.

"Bella!" Angela and Jess gravitated toward me. They huddled around me like we were a group of girls. Ordinary girls. Talking about boys.

"So did you guys..." Jessica pulled a finger against the inside of her cheek to make a popping sound.

"Jess, gross!"

"What? It's been a month."

"Exactly. It's only been a month. Besides, it's none of our business," Angela said with a rye smile at me. They both craved details. It was awkward.

"Guys," would this blushing never end? "I just stayed over. It wasn't like that."

"Hmm." Neither of them were satisfied or convinced. But they were gracious enough to drop the subject as we walked inside. Jessica quickly took the helm of the conversation, which was now about shopping. This weekend. I wasn't explicitly invited because my invitation went without saying. It was just like that again now, like when I first got here. Something about me made them want me around. Everyone could see the change in me that dating Jacob made.

Everyone.


When I got to English Lit, something was wrong. Mr. Kruczynski was a Jack of all trades substitute and a fairly common sight in our classrooms when the teachers got sick. But standing next to him was Mr. Treverrow, the school principal. They waited patiently for us to file in and take our seats. We waited in an awkward silence.

"Morning, class," Mr. Treverrow greeted us. "I'm afraid it's not with good news that I've come to visit you today. Mr. Berty was reported missing over the weekend. We can't say if or when he'll return. In the meantime, Mr. Kruczynski here will be taking over the class. We -"

"Whoa, what happened?" a student blurted out.

"Was it in Seattle?" another asked feverishly.

The principal sighed and took a sidewards glance at Kruczynski. They both had that look about them, of people who didn't want to be here.

"From what we've been told," Mr. Treverrow started carefully. "He was last seen in the Seattle area."

The class burst into hushed, frantic chattering. I stayed frozen.

"We're not jumping to any conclusions," he said with hands raised, trying to calm the room. "Now, you're not children. I'm sure you're all aware of the situation in Seattle and it is deeply concerning to think someone from our town might have been affected. But this is a serious and delicate matter and we don't have all the facts yet. For now, we only know that he's missing. I don't want to hear a word of unfounded gossip leaving this classroom. Understood?"

Everyone nodded that they understood. And by the time I got to the cafeteria that afternoon, everyone at school knew that Mr. Berty was dead. He was the latest victim of a crazed serial killer. He'd walked the wrong way down the wrong street on the wrong side of town and got caught in the middle of gang warfare. His wife, the last person to have seen him alive, had taken the recent string of murders as her cue to finally rid herself of the pontifical oaf.

I sat in my usual seat and listened to the unusual theories. In spite of myself, I glanced over at their table. They weren't there.


The bell rang again. I didn't know it did that a second time; I didn't know what it was for. I had never stayed this late after school before. Most of the cars had left the parking lot in front of me, carrying students home. I waited, sheltered from the rain under the roof of the walkway, for Jacob to come and carry me away. I expected it would only take another five or ten minutes for him to arrive. I was happy enough using the time to listen to my iPod and collect my thoughts. Music was back in my life. It seemed preposterous to me now that I had ever abhorred the sound.

For over a year, I'd been surrounded by people with lightning-fast reflexes and extrasensory gifts. I'd grown accustomed to feeling inadequate. I had almost come to accept it. But even my feeble human senses warned me of a presence behind my back. A chill ran down my spine and I spun round. I clapped eyes on her, startled.

Alice was standing there in an ornate black dress with hands clasped in front, a picture of Gothic loveliness. She smiled at me and I wanted to run to her and hug her. I smiled back. I almost waved; would that be too much?

"Hey," I greeted her.

"Hi, Bella," her voice was like the tinkling of little silver bells. "You look really lovely in that."

That, I realized, could've referred to just about anything. Looking down, I remembered a summer shopping spree that felt like a lifetime ago and saw the jeans Alice had picked out for me. They were closer to my usual taste only they fit better. And the jacket I was wearing was equally good at looking good as it was at keeping out the cold. Unwittingly, I had put together in an entire outfit composed by Alice Cullen.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

I stared into the space between us. As much as I might have wanted, in my heart of hearts, to cross that distance, I felt something there; an unseen yet palpable boundary that kept me on one side and her on the other. I think she felt it, too.

"How's Charlie?"

It made sense that she'd ask that. Her reason for being at the house that night had apparently been to comfort Charlie following my untimely death. Exactly what part of coming home to find your dead daughter's former classmate lurking in the dark (having disappeared for months and magically reappearing on the day of the death) was supposed to be comforting (to a cop who dealt with more than his fair share of homicides), I didn't know. But Alice had her own version of things that made sense.

"He's good," I told her.

We were quiet and almost comfortable for awhile. It was clear she had something to say, something she'd specifically come here to say, but was struggling with it. I didn't give her an invitation. I didn't ask. I didn't need to.

"So... How are things with Jacob?" she fished.

I actually chuckled a little which was nice. "I'm sure Jessica can fill you in on the gossip."

"I don't want gossip, Bella. I want to hear it from you."

"Why?" I questioned. What could any of this matter to her now?

Alice pressed her lips into a line and frowned. It was a bizarre look on her. She was quiet for awhile and I couldn't bear to look at her. I couldn't tolerate this feeling of missing her when she was right in front of me. I turned my gaze to the empty parking lot.

"For the record, I thought it was really stupid. Leaving. I tried to talk him out of it."

Why do you keep following me? I asked of the pain I felt over him. Why doesn't it end?

I leaned more of my weight against the wall and tried to steady my breath, exhausted. If Alice was waiting for a response, she wouldn't get one. Speaking, feeling, living... I was tired. What strength I had left, I spent on appeasing others, to take the worry from their eyes. I had nothing left to give Alice.

"What I mean to say is, I know that he hurt you and I hate him for that so I'm not going to tell you not to hate him, too. But he's my brother. I love him." There was a pause and I knew she was deliberating how to word the next bit. "He's concerned about your safety."

"Is this your backhanded way of telling me to break up with Jacob?"

"We worry about you, that's all," she claimed. "You're always with the wolves now, I can't see your future."

"Then I guess you'll have to take it one day at a time like everyone else," I didn't mean to sound so bitter but it came out that way.

Remorseful, I turned back in time to see Alice was stung. And then she looked me over almost appraisingly, with a frown, as if she wasn't sure who I was. Then she turned and she was walking away.

I called after her, "Alice, wait." But she kept walking.

"What's going on in Seattle?"

She kept walking.

The sound of an engine purred in the distance and drew nearer. The roar of the motorcycle was soon close enough and loud enough to shatter the melodic thrum of the rain. Alice vanished just as Jacob pulled up.

"You okay?" he asked, catching the scent of a vampire.

"Yeah," I said casually as I climbed up onto the seat. "Absolutely."