Highland and West 3rd

-Edward-

I started turning my phone off for long periods of time. They continued to call. One by one, a message here and there. Obviously, something was up; the order of the calls was strategic. First, Esme, but she must have known I wouldn't answer because almost immediately after, Jasper called. I assumed he was going to attempt to soothe me or ease me into something I didn't want to do. He was the most persuasive among us because he was so good at figuring out people's motivations. Once he had that knowledge, he could twist them and shake them upside down until they looked and felt completely different from what they were in the beginning.

Emmett's call was the last in the rotation, but in the end, he was the most persistent.

Esme and Jasper only left one message each, but Emmett racked up three. I ignored them all for four days.

In the end, I was swayed by morbid curiosity. It hadn't escaped me that one name was absent from the list of callers, and I had a flash of concern that something might have happened to him, but I was too stubborn to call and find out.

On Thursday after my last class, I was on my way to the bus stop when my phone buzzed. Seeing it was Emmett, again, I gave in or gave up, whichever way you want to look at it.

"Yeah," I answered.

"Nice greeting," he replied.

"What's up?"

"Took you long enough."

"I've been busy," I said.

"Right, did you listen to the messages?"

"Haven't had a chance."

He grumbled something under his breath. I couldn't make it out completely, but I'm pretty sure I heard 'asshole' somewhere in there.

"Mom's throwing a party for Dad's birthday-slash-retirement next month, and it would be good if you could come."

I sat down on a nearby bench, and I nearly laughed. They'd been calling and leaving messages for days to get me to come to a party. What a fucking emergency.

"Okay."

"Let me rephrase that," Emmett said, his tone shifting from disinterested to insistent.

"You need to be there, Edward."

I rolled my eyes, and I was grateful he couldn't see me, because he probably would have punched me.

Unlike Jasper, Emmett's means of persuasion were far less subtle.

"Who are we kidding? It would probably be better if I weren't there, Emmett."

"You're so full of shit. You can't really believe that."

"I haven't talked to him since I've been back, and we maybe exchanged five emails the whole time I was gone. It's not like he really wants me there. Make up some great excuse for me."

I heard Emmett exhale on the other end.

"Have you tried to call him?"

"No."

"Well, phones go both ways."

"Sure. Call me crazy, but I'm thinking that when someone comes back from a war, there might be some sort of welcome."

He laughed at that, and I nearly hung up. "Did you expect a party? You've been shutting people out for years. Hell, Mom and Dad were worried sick the whole time you were there, but you were too much of a pussy to call or write. You fucking joined the Army to run away and then you want people to greet you at the airport with flags and a band?"

"Fuck you, Emmett. Didn't need any damn fanfare, but a call would have been nice."

"Look, Edward. I don't really give a shit what you do. I think you're probably right. We'd be better off if you didn't show up because you seem to stress everyone out when you're around, but that doesn't mean I don't want it to be different. They love you, and they're proud of you, especially him. He might not be fawning all over you, but then again, have you asked yourself whether you actually deserve it or not?"

"That's quite an invitation, there, Emmett. I'll get my suit to the cleaners this afternoon."

"You know I won't coddle you."

"Yeah, I've been pretty used to the soft life these past few years. Four star hotels, expensive sheets. It's amazing the service the wartime Army provides these days."

"That's not what I meant." His voice grew quiet. "You doing okay?"

"I'm fine, Emmett."

"You're in school?"

"Yeah."

"You need anything?"

"Nope."

"Will you come? It would mean a lot to them…to all of us, I think."

"I don't know," I said. "I'll think about it."

Despite Emmett's mildly conciliatory tone at the end of our conversation, I was not in a good mood by the time I boarded the homeward bound bus. I'd spent the walk to the bus stop letting myself get worked up.

It was so easy for him, for all of them really, to point fingers, to make it seem like I was such a disappointment. This odd cadre of human beings would have melted together seamlessly if it hadn't been for me: the flaw, the bump, the piece of fabric that stood out from the rest.

They thought I was a brat. They said I moped too much and never appreciated the opportunities I'd been given. Esme had sighed a lot, and Carlisle usually threw his arms up and walked out of the room, essentially communicating their disinterest in getting to the root of the problem.

Maybe I was stupid sometimes, and I still couldn't tell you exactly what my problem was, but despite several rounds of therapy, I couldn't be instantly fixed. It was all too much, too fast, I think. One minute I was a snot-nosed kid crying every night in a small room on a worn out cot because my parents were dead, and they wouldn't be coming to take me out of that dump of a foster home. Within six months, I'd changed houses three times until I wound up with Carlisle. Two years later, I'd been adopted and gained a stepmom.

Then they added more to their instant family: Emmett was first, then Jasper.

I often wondered if it would have been different if I hadn't been the first. Would I have resented everything less? All I knew for sure when I was that wide-eyed little shit, was that moving in with Carlisle had made me happy, but clearly I hadn't been enough to do the same for him.

Once I made it to the bus stop, my thoughts had turned more bitter and agitated. My muscles tensed, and I could feel my face tighten. The September air was changing. Still warm enough for shorts, but it wouldn't be long before all the people standing would be shifting weight and shaking their hands to keep warm. For now, we kept a distance as we watched the bus approach, hopeful that despite the prime hour, there would be space enough for everyone to sit, but I could see through the window that it was going to be a tight squeeze. I hung back in the pack. If I was going to stand anyway, I'd rather be closer to the front than shoved in the middle with no way to escape.

The end of day crowd dropped bills or swiped cards before mindlessly making their way to the few empty seats. After paying my fare, I didn't even bother to scan the crowd. I stepped in a few paces, and reached up to grab the bar above me.

I heard talking around me, but I didn't pay any attention, still focused on my phone call with Emmett and the problems it illuminated. The voice got louder, and it caused me to break my stare out the window. Instinctively, I looked down toward the people around me.

"There's a spot here if you want," she said, motioning to the empty seat next to her.

It had to be her. If it had been anyone else, I probably would have nodded politely and sat down, but something about that woman with her crappy books and carefree attitude bothered me, especially that day.

Anyone who had time to read gossip had it too easy in my book.

"Do you want to sit down?" she asked again.

I couldn't stand the way her big brown eyes looked at me, all hopeful and innocent. I was tired, and agitated, but the seat called to me. Without saying a word, I nodded once, and the girl scooted over to the window. I sat down on the edge, careful not to get too close.

"It's packed today," she said looking around the bus.

"Uh huh," I answered, not wanting to encourage any conversation.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her face morph into a look of disgust before turning with a huff to face the window. A couple of seconds later, she reached into her bag and pulled out a paperback.

I shook my head and laughed to myself, but I didn't dwell on her or her ridiculous hobbies for long.

I was too busy figuring out the rest of my life.

-Bella-

My mother always told me that I was the kind of person who didn't just give someone the shirt off of my back, I went ahead and offered them my whole wardrobe. I'd always roll my eyes, and let her words flow through one ear and out the other. Having a woman who once made a living by selling kindergarten finger paintings at arts and crafts fairs assess your personality flaws tended to be off-putting.

But she was right. So very right.

I saw the way he looked at me; I'd have to be blind not to. I offered him a seat anyway. My stupid, incessant need to be liked made me do it. And he looked at me like I was a piece of toilet paper stuck to his shoe; like he'd rather do anything but sit next to me.

But he did sit next to me.

I tried to make conversation. I tried to talk to him and be friendly, and see if he could be friendly, too.

He couldn't.

The way that guy's eyes burned through me made me feel invisible, so instead of wasting my time on him, I pulled out my book and thumbed through the ratty old pages until I came to the one I'd folded over to mark my place. I could've sworn I heard him laugh, like being an unfriendly asshole was some kind of an amusement for him. I had to stop myself from sliding across the seat and knocking his ass to the floor.

I had just gotten through a couple of paragraphs when my phone buzzed in my pocket: the pre-paid one that only one person had the number to. I fumbled to fish it out of my pocket, stretching my body out of the seat and accidentally elbowing the jerk next to me in my frenzy. When I flipped the phone open, it was hard to speak through my panic.

"Dad?" I asked breathlessly, my voice much louder than I'd intended it to be. "What happened? What's wrong?" I knew he'd only call me if it was an emergency, and I was right. There was an emergency.

"Don't panic," he said, in that even-keeled Charlie Swan crisis mode voice. He used it a lot these days.

"I'm panicking." My knee kept bouncing, and I rubbed my sweaty palm across my jeans. It was amazing how quickly adrenaline kicked in. "What happened?"

"I thought I'd get up and try to be useful today."

Dread flooded over me, and I could barely keep my head above it. But he was talking, so it couldn't be that bad, could it?

"I'm not as steady on my feet as I thought I would be," he said.

The way his voice sounded, so quiet, like that was the very last thing he wanted to tell me, made the tears begin to fall. All hot, wet weakness rolling down my cheeks, and I hated it. I hated the way the guy next to me tried to look at me without really looking at me, and the way I felt so ashamed and weak.

But I cried; I couldn't help it. I cried for my dad, and for yet another bill that would be waiting for us by the end of the night. I cried because it seemed like lately, every time we managed to rid ourselves of one burden, life always found a way to weigh us down with another. Sure, we got some financial help from the state for Dad's injury. But money was slow coming in, and without his income, our bank account tended to be in the red more than the black.

Last year, tired of being stuck working in the same job, living in the same house in the same town that the love of his life left him in, Dad decided to make a change. When he left Forks and came out here to start a job consulting for a security firm, neither one of us would've guessed that only months later he'd be laid off, left working as a contractor in a shipping and receiving warehouse with little in terms of salary, and even less in terms of benefits.

And we couldn't have imagined that his cop instincts would kick in when he stopped to get a cup of coffee on his way home from work one night; that he'd interrupt an altercation and wind up paying for it with his own blood.

The thing about my Dad was, he always played it safe. Since my mom left him all those years ago, he'd been alive, but he hadn't been living. When he took a chance to make his life his own, things like this kept happening, but he never gave up. Not once. Not even now.

"Bells?" Dad said quietly. He knew I was crying.

"Where are you?" I swiped the tears from my cheeks. There was no time for all this stupid emotion, because my stop was coming up. If I had to change bus routes in order to get to him, I needed to figure that out quickly.

"I'm at the clinic, waiting for them to tell me that I can leave."

"How did-"

"Never mind how I got here," he said. "It's just a sprained ankle, and I'll be home in a little while."

"I was going to go home for a few minutes before work. I'm on my way now—I'll just call in and wait for you there."

"No." His voice was firm, and I knew I wasn't going to win this one. "You go pick up your shift and I'll see you tonight, okay?"

I wasn't sure how he could possibly expect me to work now. Then, like he knew just what I was thinking, he said, "I shouldn't have called. It's just that you get home so late, I didn't want you to walk into this. You've got homework, and…"

When he told me, his explanation did make sense. The thing was, my dad and I had always taken care of each other like this. No secrets, no shame, just looking out for one another around every turn.

"I'm glad you called. I just...I want you to get better. I want us out of this hole."

"I know, baby," he said, so quietly I almost didn't hear him.

"Do you want me to bring you anything?"

"Yeah," he replied, and I could hear the smile creeping up in his voice. It made my chest feel less like a boulder. "I really want a candy bar."

"Okay," I laughed. Sometimes, you have to spare a dollar for the important things in life.

"I'll see you later tonight. I love you."

"I love you, too."

I closed my phone and held it in my shaking hand as I looked out the window through blurry eyes. When we stopped, I stood up and squeezed past the sour-faced guy and the throng of strangers that were standing around me.

With an hour to kill before my shift at the café, I exited the bus a few stops early, and stepped into the drugstore on the corner to find something sweet.

Thanks so much to everyone who's taken the time to read the story. Thanks to writeontime for beta'ing. Lillybellis and I both appreciate it. We've had a lot of fun. It's always fun to learn from someone new. Right now Edward and Bella are still wrapped up in their ill perceptions. How will they ever see past first impressions? Who will make the first step? Update coming on Sunday.