(Disclaimer- I do not own Edward Scissorhands. I do not own any aspect of this story except Amy. If I did own it all, you could bet I wouldn't be sitting here writing a fanfic about it!)

Chapter 7

Slowly, a routine began to form. Every day, after school, Amy would climb up to the crumbly house, sometimes taking the most outrageous routes to avoid being spotted by the residents. She didn't know why she did this, but she despised the thought of gossipy old ladies spying on her and watching where she was going.

At school, all Amy could think about was this strange enigma, Edward. Why did he have scissors for hands? Many times she had been close to asking, but it just seemed so . . . tactless, and hasty. She decided to let herself wonder, and wait until he seemed ready for personal questions from her.

One day, after a particularly pleasant conversation with Edward, she had swiftly hugged him good-bye, carefully avoiding his blades. She ran away quickly, horrible embarrassed. She didn't know why she did that. A few minutes later, she felt a sharp stinging on her finger. Looking, she saw a long neat slice in her hand. She turned beet red. Why had she done that? She quickly shoved the question out of her mind.

Edward examined the thin trace of blood on his blade, his eyes dark and fathomless. He was confused too. But he knew he should've been more careful with his blades.

School, while no better, hadn't gotten worse. Jake had gotten expelled, along with Trish, and now everyone knew about the spray-paint caper. Those not wishing to have their houses defaced were quiet, and left her alone.

In class, while teachers droned alternately about homework or graduation, Amy doodled little pictures of Edward. Mostly his hands, drawing them a multitude of ways. They fascinated her. She wanted to know their mechanics, how they worked, why they worked. But Edward would not let her near them. He was afraid of hurting her, and she didn't want to press the matter

"Amy, would you care to answer the question?" a voice cut in. Amy looked up quickly.

"Four," she said randomly.

"No. Gary? Were you listening?"

"Ummm – "

Amy drifted back into her dream world. She would go see Edward right after school. She had told her mother that she had found a park of sorts, and was fascinated by the garden, and that that was where she was going every day. Her mother, not believing a word of it, had sat back and nodded craftily. She was thinking "Boy. No doubt. But Amy's a good, responsible girl. I can trust her."

After class, Amy found another dirty drawing in her locker. But this time, instead of getting angry, she scribbled out her name so it couldn't be read, and cheerfully tossed it over her shoulder, not caring where it landed.

The chatter and slamming of lockers remained at fever pitch, but Amy sensed there was a portion that had fell silent, and were glaring at her. To spite them, Amy whistled cheerfully to class.

Edward was up in the attic, looking out his window, waiting for Amy. She was his first friend in a long time. She was incredibly quick, both in speech, and in motion. She seemed to be fueled by nervous energy. He felt dull and slow next to her. Her emotions at any one time were all over the place, ranging from happy, to raging fury, to despair. Edward had never met anybody like her. All the others he had met, had seemed to be basically stuck in one mind frame, and stayed there.

It was fascinating watching her talk. All the emotions she felt were clearly displayed on her face, and her expressions were a kaleidoscope of swiftly changing passions.

He could not understand why she was not widely popular; it was so fascinating just watching her move. Maybe it had something to do with that 'epilepsy' she had spoken of. But he really didn't understand what she had meant when she had spoken of seizures. Apparently she had had one when she was falling down the stairs, but mostly what he had noticed then was her falling down the stairs. That too confused him. How did she walk away from that?

Amy was dying for school to end. Being here made her uncomfortable, partially because teachers and students kept calling her back to reality, making time seem to pass even slower, and because she wasn't sure when a teacher would blow up on her.

Gleefully, Amy heard the bell ring. Not wasting a moment, she gathered her stuff and slammed out of class.

Slowly, Edward began to open up to her, as he became less intimidated by her every day. Some days she chatted away like mad. Other days, they merely sat in comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company.

One day, Amy finally felt the time was right to start asking Edward questions. So, beaming confidently, she asked, "So Edward. What's your story?"

He looked at her uncomprehendingly, and asked "My story?"

"Yeah! Your life story. The events leading up to this point in your life," Amy said, settling back into a dusty, mildewy armchair.

"Oh. Well . . ." Edward hesitated.

"Go on. I won't judge. Unless! — unless you don't want to tell it." Amy said, embarrassed for pushing him.

"No! I mean – I don't mind. I was created here,"

Amy raised an eyebrow.

"My inventor – "

The other eyebrow went up in disbelief.

"Was about to finish me, give me hands instead of these," he raised his bladed hands. "But, he fell. He didn't wake up. He never did."

Amy lowered her eyes. She knew death when she heard it.

"I, I stayed alone for a long time. Then, a lady came and brought me to her place." His eyes went dreamy and distant. "I met her daughter, Kim. But the people in the town didn't want me to stay, so I had to come back here."

Amy looked into his eyes, and thought she knew what really happened. "Did they turn on you? Chase you back?" She winced at her own lack of tact. But the miserable look on her face was all the answer she needed. She became indignant, but then remembered her own first impression and reaction. She really wasn't much better than them. Amy grew thoughtful as she remembered something else Edward had said.

"So are you . . . not human?" she asked. Edward looked up. She saw he was confused. He didn't know himself. It must be a terrible thing to not know what he was. Agitated, his scissors worked up and down.

"Kim," he murmured.

"Who is this Kim, anyways?" Amy asked. To her amazement, she sounded childish and petulant. Almost like she was jealous.

"She was special," he said. "She told me she loved me."

Amy felt a brick drop right in the pit of her stomach. "Did – did you love her back?" she croaked. Edward didn't answer, but she could see it. He loved her. And he still did.

She stood up unsteadily. "I've really got to go, Edward. School night tomorrow and all. I'm graduating tomorrow, you know. Big day!" She laughed a little crazily, and then headed out the door.

She stumbled down the hill, feeling like she had just been cast adrift. Nothing had changed of course. Nothing except realizing her own feelings. Naturally, she'd only known the guy for three weeks. That was barely long enough to qualify him as a friend! But somehow, somewhere along those few weeks, she had fallen in love.

She could see him in her mind's eye as clear as day. Tall, pale, wild black hair, sensitive face marred by numerous scars, and those expressive eyes. And then those hands, which ensured she would never be able to get close to him. But of course, she was merely a friend to him. Someone to talk to and confide in, true, but nothing more.

Amy dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, furious at the rising tears. She had no right to expect Edward to return her feelings. But oh, if only he did!

"I'll make him love me!" she growled to herself.

(Hope you like it, more to come, please R&R blah blah blah)