A little more than a week had passed since I had mailed the letter to Sergeant Masen. In the letter I wrote, I just introduced myself, thanked him and all his fellow army men for their service, and a side note at the bottom. I wrote it so I wouldn't be disappointed if I didn't get a response.

Today I had to run to the grocery store so I could pick up some ingredients, having to make six dozen cookies for a cookie exchange our golf team did. Rosalie just went and bought hers. Cheater.

I was in the spice aisle looking for some cinnamon that we were out of. I had almost everything I needed, and I was ready to go back into my cozy warm house. I hadn't really dressed for the winter winds and those aisles were damn chilly.

"Bella?" I jumped and looked around to see who had said my name. Elliot Parker was standing sheepishly behind me. I grinned over at him, relieved that it wasn't some creepy stalker.

Elliot went to my school. He was a really nice guy, though I never got a chance to really talk to him. He was the star basketball player at our school, better than all of the seniors on the team and the one responsible to leading our school team to do very well this year. I thought so at least.

"Hey Elliot, how's it going?" He smiled back at me as I placed the ground cinnamon in my basket.

"Not too well. I'm running for my mom; do you know where I can find pop-e-raka?" He stared at the little blue list in his hand with up-most frustration. I laughed and raised an eyebrow before grabbing the list.

"You mean paprika?" I asked quizzically. I shut my month as he grabbed the list back in confusion. I was trying hard not to laugh now.

"Oh," was all Elliot said. Then he glanced sheepishly at me, "Yeah. That."

I laughed again and helped him find what he was looking for. I also had to show him to where they kept the bread and help him find the Italian loaf instead of the sliced, in a bag kind.

I grabbed a couple more things that I was looking for along the way and then we both went to check out. After we were both bagged up, I was about to say goodbye when he stopped me.

Elliot was a really muscular guy. He had dark sandy hair with clear brown eyes and was about 7 inches taller than me at my 5'4. I could understand why so many girls wanted to get with him. He was pretty attractive.

"Okay, could I ask you something that sounds kinda weird?" he began cautiously. I shrugged and nodded my consent.

"So, I know you don't really date and stuff and neither do I. But, the basketball team is required to make an appearance at the winter dance this year. So I figured maybe you would go with me?" I stared at him for a moment longer than necessary because it made him go on.

"But not in like a, 'I'm-madly-in-love-with-you' way. It's not even that I like you." He rambled on.

I rose an offended eyebrow silently at him.

"Shit, no. I mean you're a really nice, funny girl. But I don't want to date you," Elliot continued, trying to get his point across while back tracking.

"Not that you're not dateable because, I mean you totally are!" I couldn't hold it any longer; I started to laugh under my breath. He stared at me, really not understanding why I was laughing and was probably offended by the action.

I knew what he was asking from his first sentence. I just wanted to see how much he would stress. I was mean, but I found it fairly amusing.

"You mean, go to the dance as friends?" I hinted for him.

"Yes! Exactly! That was what I meant!" He went silent then. I rose another inquiring eyebrow. "And if you happen to keep some of the girls that want me in their pants away, then so be it." I burst out laughing at his logic and told him I would go. We exchanged cell phone numbers before going into the freezing wind.

I texted Rose telling her I had a date for the dance. She responded, irritated of course. We had pretty much said that we weren't going to go, but now she felt she needed to. So she was off getting a date. That shouldn't be too hard for her.

"Hey Es! I'm home," I called out as I entered through the mud room and into the kitchen.

"Did you find everything?" she asked as she walked into the room. I nodded and started to take the ingredients out of the plastic bag,

When Esme walked she had a certain dancelike movement to her. She was gorgeous and looked 26, not 33. But there was a wiser and knowing component about her that made her seem about a decade older. She had light brown hair, that was a dark caramel shade that she wore like Rosalie wore hers; straightened or with loose curls. She also had amazing hazel eyes. They were really light, making them appear almost golden at times.

"Yup! I even scored a date for the winter dance," I smirked. Esme who was getting out various bowls for mixing turned and gave me an inquiring look.

"Should I be concerned?" I laughed at her mock seriousness. Oh man, it would suck if they were actually like that.

"No, I don't think so," I grinned as I started cracking eggs. The thing about cookie exchanges is that you need to bake a dozen for each person, and we were a six person team. It was a lot of egg cracking.

"Who is it?" Esme asked as she went to preheat the oven.

"Elliot Parker." I wasn't as giddy about it as you would think, actually. I didn't have a crush on him, and he didn't seem to be interested in me that way, so I was sort of excited because he seemed like he could be a good friend.

"I didn't know you liked him," she commented. I could hear the smirk in her voice which I chose to ignore as I explained to her why I was going to the dance.

There was another thing about Elliot. Guys respected him. He was leading our team out of failure and nobody wanted to do anything to piss him off. So I had a feeling that I wouldn't have much trouble with all the guys wanting to ask me out for awhile. That was a major plus.

"Well. That's interesting," Esme informed me after I finished. She still looked slightly baffled but went back to rolling the dough nevertheless.

I nodded in agreement.

"Thank God you're not actually dating. Carlisle has convinced himself that he will eventually have to give you 'the talk,'" she informed me under her breath. I laughed but when I saw that she wasn't kidding, my face fell. The phrase 'Fuck my Life' came into mind.

"You're serious?" I questioned in incredulous monotone. She nodded.

"But I got that from mom when I was 12!" I pointed out hurriedly. I wanted to grin at that memory. It had actually turned out to be a pretty amusing conversation between us.

"Sorry," she said in sing song voice that made it clear that there was no sorrow whatsoever in her.

"If you want to avoid it, become a nun," she suggested offhandedly as I opened the oven and put a pan in on the rack. That extreme heat warmed the kitchen for a moment before it was gone.

"I'll think about it," I responded sarcastically.

Esme laughed when she saw that I was mixing the dough much more roughly than needed.

-oOo-

Since neither Rosalie nor I planned to actually be going to the dance we were pretty much screwed in the way of dresses.

"I can't believe you just decided to go to the dance!" she exclaimed in frustration as I picked her up from her house five days later. The dance was on the 13th. It was already the 7th.

"We've been over this; I'm just helping him out," I calmly explained one more time.

"My mom would have been able to sew a kick-ass dress if I had given her more notice." Rose's mom was the most artsy person I knew. She did anything that was at all creative, like painting, sewing, woodworking, and even gardening.

"Don't worry; she'll have prom."

"Oh I know; she's already planning it." I chuckled. I loved her mom.

Rosalie was still complaining about the short notice by the time we got to the dress store in the mall. I didn't know why she was whining – it took her all of three seconds to get a date.

This dance was in between prom and homecoming, so the style that everyone wore was dressier and longer than homecoming, but not as extravagant as prom would be.

Rosalie was going with a boy named Luke. Luke was also on the basketball team. They dated last year for a few months but decided not to continue, though they were still pretty fond of each other in a friendship way. So it really wasn't hard to get him to agree to go with her. I mean, he had to go anyways.

It only took us about six minutes to get the last of the good dresses to try on. The dressing rooms didn't have full walls so we could see each over the top. That gave us the perfect opportunity to talk.

"So, are you going back to Ohio after the dance?" Rosalie asked quietly, though I still heard her over the ruffling of the fabrics and froze. I looked over at her but she was extremely focused on something else.

"I hadn't planned to," I answered after what felt like a long pause. I slowly went back to trying on the dress that was in my hands.

"Bells, it's your mom's birthday though," she said in concern, still not looking at me directly.

"It was my mom's birthday. Now it's just December 14th," I corrected her. I hadn't been to the cemetery they were buried at since the funeral.

"Do you honestly believe that?" she asked me. I could hear there was some frustration in her voice, but I didn't feel the need to acknowledge it. I didn't understand why this would bother her.

"Yes I do. Besides, if I went there, what would I do?"

"Talk to them," she answered like it was the simplest thing in the world. I glanced at her, surprised to see that she was actually looking at me now.

I didn't bother to really respond to her statement. I didn't want to be having this conversation at the moment. I would talk to Rose about most things, but this wasn't one of them. I was a private person; I didn't talk to anyone about my parents.

"Fine. You win. I'll shut up, but I can't comprehend how you do it." She made it very clear that she was referring to my disregard for the date.

A couple minutes of tense silence passed before low and behold, Rose said just the right thing to break it. "Fuck! I think I just broke this damn zipper! Someone's going to die." I stood on the stool and looked over the wall to see a mad Rose fighting with a zipper of a purple dress. Purple really wasn't her color.

"Oh. Got it." I watched as she zipped it up with ease. I rolled my eyes as angry Rose dissolved into disgusted Rose. I don't know why she tried on the purple. She knew it didn't work on her.

It only took us about an hour, and eventually we both found dresses that worked for us. Mine was a halter, knee length mint green dress that was very twirly on the bottom. I loved it, confident that I would be able to find a tie for Elliot to match.

Rosalie ditched the purple and found a yellow strapless dress that was even twirlier than mine. It had a wide black ribbon under her mid drift. It tied together in a very classy bow and slid halfway down the dress which was roughly the same length as mine.

After we each bought our dresses, we walked down the mall looking for somewhere we could get ties for our dates.

"Why can't they pick out their own fucking ties?" she complained as we left a department store with no luck. I couldn't lie and say I wasn't getting just as annoyed as her.

"If I don't find a tie in the next three minutes he's getting a damn bow tie," I agreed in frustration.

Luckily, we did find a tie shop. It was a very small store, but there were so many ties! It was like a shoe store, but for guys. I wished I wore ties.

The yellows and greens were on the same wall, so we were right next to each other, looking at the many shades and patterns of silk. I just looked at it like I was picking out nail polish.

"I personally think the Ice King and Queen idea is ridiculously stupid," Rosalie sighed as she felt a yellow silk tie.

Every year they had the king and queen of the dance, just like prom and homecoming. They cleverly named it Ice King and Queen, because, here's a shocker – it's icy out during the winter. A week before the dance 12 people are nominated for it: three senior boys, senior girls, junior boys and junior girls.

Rose and I were both nominated along with Angela Webber as the junior girls. Elliot and two other basketball players were nominated for the 11th grade boys.

The night of the dance you were supposed to go fill out your vote at a table they set up in the corner that one of the teachers ran.

"I know," I rolled my eyes, "And the title seems so cruel too. You're the Ice Queen! Whoa. Might as well just say 'royal bitch.'"

"Found one!" Rose exclaimed excitedly, making some of the men currently in the store glance over at her in confusion. I chuckled as she clutched the silk and held it to her dress once again.

"Oh, I agree by the way. I mean, you're totally right. Most of the time the girls that get it are annoying bitchy Barbie's anyway," she said in disgust before strutting over to the counter to buy the tie.

Fortunately I found one that was silver, like the diamond pin and the exact same shade as the dress. After we got shoes, Rosalie called to make appointments at the nail place where we would get pedicures and manicures the day before. Personally, I thought getting the pedicures was just a waste of money. All any girl wore this time of the year were warm, fuzzy boots.

I had started checking the mail box when I got home from school lately. In fact, it had become such a frequent tendency of mine that I now considered it one of my daily rituals. I knew there was an extremely good chance I wouldn't get a response from the Sergeant; the site even warns you of it. But I was still kind of hoping for one.

I had no clue how fast mail got to Iraq. It could be months for all I knew. Or maybe it was fast and he already got the letter.

Rosalie noticed that I had been checking the mailbox when she came over after school, too. She took it upon herself to bring it up as we were getting our nails painted.

"Did you order something in the mail? 'Cause everyday you are checking your damn mailbox," she pointed out as the woman in front of her finished painting her nails with a clear coat that completed the French manicure.

"No, I'm just seeing if I'll get a letter," I responded, trying to come off as impassive. My nails were already done, so I stood up and followed the man that had been doing my nails to the large area where they did pedicures. Rosalie wasn't far behind.

"From who? And what the hell do you mean if?" she questioned as she shook her hands back and forth. She sat down in the large chair next to me as we kicked off our shoes and put our feet in the water for our pedicurists to start on our toes. I'm not going to lie; it was a little strange having a guy rubbing lotion up my leg.

"I wrote a letter to a guy, but he doesn't know me so I'm not sure if he'll write back," I explained to her vaguely, knowing that wasn't the direct answer she wanted. I seemed to have gained the interest of the man filing my toe nails.

The other thing was, I didn't know anything about the guy, and he could be 40 years old with three kids for all I knew. I didn't really have a clear picture in my head, but I had to admit, he was on the younger side in that fuzzy image.

"Well," she sighed, "I suppose it's classier than Internet dating."

I looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "What do you mean? I'm not looking for a boyfriend, just meeting some new people." Well, that was actually a pretty good answer. I mean, I wasn't even lying.

"Whatever you say, Bells. You'll probably end marrying whoever it is," she rolled her eyes as she let her head fall back. I snorted.

"Shut up, you're the one who's secretly in love with Luke." That caused her to glare at me.

"I do not love him! I don't really like basketball players; they're too tall and skinny. I want a more muscular guy," she defended. I looked to see the guy doing my nails smirk, which in turn made me smirk.

"Whatever you say, Rose," I mocked in a voice which made her glare at me more.

Just as I was about to add something else to that remark my phone started to vibrate. I flipped it open carefully so not to destroy my nails. It was a text from Carlisle. I pressed open.

You got a letter.


While we're young and beautiful
We'll party down on main street
Wearing next to nothin'
Feelin' every heartbeat
Having fun
While we're still young and beautiful

It's a crazy ride, baby you and I
are keepin' our sweet love alive tonight
While we're young and beautiful

-Young and Beautiful by Carrie Underwood


Thank you SimplyDazzling!
Update in a few days...any ideas on Edward's reaction?
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***Again, I don't own Any Soldier.