A/N: I've been getting stuff about the lengths of my chapters. I'm trying to make them longer, but as I comment in this chapter, I go to a hard-"butt" all girls' catholic school, and have loads of work. But im trying. Mayb ill stick some Bella- written poetry in sometime soon to lengthen them. I don't know, but I do have a lot in store for u guys.

Chapter Four

Work was rather uneventful. I was babysitting the neighbors, good kids, though a little chatty, who listened to me. After I had placed them to bed (this was a LONG day of babysitting) I sat down in front of the plasma TV in their den and turned on the movie channels.

Crap. Crap crap crap crap crap. I couldn't watch any of this. Out of one hundred movie channels, it was romance night for most of them. I had to decide though, so I chose the classic The Princess Bride. Romance. Fairytale. Great. Of all nights for there not to be a horror or thriller movie on.

I loved the Princess Bride. Or at least I used to, until an unreal and misleading angel flew into my life. Now it was painful. Seeing him kiss her like that, so much in love, love conquering all, even death.

That's it. I'm doing homework. I shut off the television right as Buttercup and Westley were "enjoying a passionate moment" in the ravine. O god. The book at least gives them privacy. (A/N: READ THE PRINCESS BRIDE BOOK IT ROCKS MORE THAN THE MOVIE NO LIE!)

My luck. Homework is to read two scenes of Romeo and Juliet. I am officially cursed. But, it is not an entirely bad thing to succumb to the forces of my Prince Charming. I just wish I knew his name.

Finding nothing else to do, I took out Susan and Michael's, for those were the children I was babysitting, crayon sets. I loved to draw. Just doodling, drawing random faces, I zoned out and just gave in to natural high that I get from this. I was sucked in. Then I realized what I drew.

An angelic face, with piercing eyes, orbs of caramel, and bronze-red hair, messy but oh-so lovely. He was in a collared shirt, and a loosely tied tie. He was my angel. He was missing something, though. A name. No name could ever describe him though.

I pondered this for a while, but eventually came up with one. Anthony. I know, it sounded lame, but it was the best I could come up with.

Finally, after hours of gorging down bad food and drawing frivolously, midnight rolled around and Susan and Michael's parents came home. This had been a long day. And tomorrow, Mischief Night would be longer. I hated that night. Just a stupid reason for kids to get drunk or to egg my house. Agh.

I got home in a daze. I needed sleep badly, so I walked like a zombie up to my room and put on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Comfort clothes.

Sleep came dreamlessly, or without dreams that I would remember. But in the morning, I woke up with one eye watering. And I didn't know why. That bothered me. Immensely so.

Never had Renee or Phil been fairly religious, so Sunday morning mass was not an obligation (A/N: I, unfortunately, so to an all girls catholic school, and have mass at least once a week. No cracks about that. I KNOW that it sucks.) But they both had gone, Renee to volunteering til 2:30, Phil teaching at the baseball clinic.

Where to then?

I could go see Lynne. Uh, no. That was out of the question. Completely.

I could bike down to the middle school and see the football game there. Hmm, you know what that's lasting until 6, so maybe I'll go later. I had friends there. Just some mutual, younger friends. I could probably do that later.

Or I could go to the alcove. Hmmmm…

To the alcove it is. My alcove was positively the best place ever. When Renee got this house, there was supposedly a second bathroom off of my room, but she and I didn't mind sharing, so during her "trading spaces" phase, she redid the extra bathroom into a reading nook for me. I absolutely loved it.

I ran downstairs to grab a munching snack. A little habit I had was eating Nesquick out of the container with a spoon, and that was perfect. My perpetual chocolate fix at work again. I grabbed the container and a Baskin Robbins pink spoon and ran up the stairs.

Today was going to be a light reading day. No Shakespeare, as much as I loved it, but I chose to pull out some books from my pre teen years. And no fantasy today either. I needed something gruesome, gory, so gut- wrenching that it would never remind me of, oh, "Anthony". Joan Lowery Nixon. Perfect. Murder. Gore. Whispers from the Dead. Perfect. I picked up the small volume and lay down on the floor. By the time I got into the book, I remembered one thing. Anthony. This GUY was named Anthony. He had this dazzling quality; he was good at "seducing". In a different way than my angel though, THIS Anthony was a murderer, the murderer. My Anthony could never be a murderer. Never.

I finished the book, and I didn't realize how much time had gone by. I had woken up around 9:30, and now it was 2. Wow. Had it really taken that long to read that? I had, mainly because I had to keep stopping to think. About Anthony.

Mom would be home soon. I needed to create a cover for the lost day. I ran to throw together my room, and get into some decent clothes. Jeans check. T-shirt, check. Perfect.

Like she was called on cue, Renee walked into the door as I had just finished pulling my t-shirt over my head and putting on deodorant. She looked frazzled, like she'd had a long day.

"Hi mom, how was volunteering?" I asked innocently. I knew that it hadn't gone well by the looks of things.

"Um, not so great Bella. It turns out that someone's car got stolen during the volunteers lunch break and everything was just hectic all afternoon."

"Uh, oh, whose car was it?"

"I don't know, but to what I've heard, it was a fairly nice, new car. A Porsche if I'm not mistaken."

"Oh, wow. Do you think they'll find it?"

"The local police are on it, but a car of that standard could probably be to Austin by now."

"Well tell whoever's in charge if there's anything I can do, just to let me know." Perfect, this was the kind of thing I needed to get my mind off of Lynne and … Anthony.

Mom took me into a soft hug. "Aww, honey, your heart is larger than anything else in this world."

I wasn't comfortable with this type of affection. I blushed heavily and slowly returned the hug gingerly.

"Thanks Mom."

After my awkward moment, I left the kitchen in route of the computer. I could check my email, even though I knew no one had messaged me. My mom and I shared a downstairs computer, while Phil had his own laptop, but this arrangement was fine for me. I sat myself down and turned on the screen.

I went to Comcast and typed in my username bswan. (A/N: NOT a real email, don't go emailing it. I don't know if someone actually has it!) Very generic, initial and last name. Very much unlike Lynne's, Nix cheer (A/n: once again, don't email it)

I even remember her nitwit explanation for it:

"I absolutely love my new screen name. Sooo much. It's Nix "space" cheer "space" i-l-u-x-o. Nix, for Phoenix, of course. Phoenix out long is so tacky. And I cheer. Then "I, l, u" for I love you, once again, of course. And then a cute little xo! Hugs and kisses!"

That just wanted to make me puke. Emails were for communication, not glamorization. Sometimes, I wondered where that girl who had sat on the floor of my kitchen, sticking whole peanuts into the blender to make peanut butter (she was in full favor of Renee's spontaneous cooking), and then apples in another blender for applesauce. They both ended up exploding on us, and we were covered in peanut sauce and apple butter for the rest of the day.

I opened my email, and to my surprise, I had an email. I opened it, not recognizing who it was from, but curious nevertheless. When I read it, nothing made sense except—

Dear Jasper,

Here are the papers you requested. Five high schoolers. You, your sister, and the others. I hope you find everything satisfactory, and I will be expecting your check in the mail soon.

Riley Higgins

p.s. Have fun in Phoenix this week. There are I.D.'s and driver's licenses for all of you as well. Hope your brother has his fun.

There were four attachments, but I only could get to one, the other three required passwords. But I did open that one. I was bored, and no one could blame me for that.

Ugh! They were fake I.D.'s, birth certificates, and driver's licenses for a Jasper and a Rosalie Hale. I had gotten the email of a forger!

I immediately deleted that email and shut down the monitor.

It was now 3:30. I could go to the game now. I ran upstairs and grabbed the one piece of "fashionable" clothing I liked, an American Eagle button-up shirt from Lynne for my last birthday. It was fuchsia, my current favorite color, only because I loved saying the name. I slipped it on over my t-shirt and grabbed my other things, my book, my disposable camera, just time- occupiers.

"Mom, I'm going to ride down to the game!"

"Okay, honey, just make sure to be back in enough time for dinner!"

"Will do."

I ran outside and around the house to where I had stashed my bike. It was a colder day here in Phoenix, so my over-shirt was perfectly suited for the weather. I neglected to wear a helmet, I may not care about appearance as much as Lynne, but I DID NOT care to show up at the game with a hot pink flowery helmet and then take it off to get hat hair.

I rode slowly, taking in all the scenery of Phoenix. Phoenix never looked like Fall. I had three pictures of the Falls I knew in my head: Summery Phoenix, that one Fall in rainy Forks, and the picture Renee had from when she was child growing up in Connecticut. Connecticut was gorgeous in Autumn, all the trees turning different colors, it was like Forks without the rain, Forks without rain, ha! If I ever have kids, they will either grow up in homey Connecticut or in Phoenix. End of story.

I arrived at the school just as I heard the cheerleaders finish up their half-time. Thank GOD that I came late. I would've hated to watch those little, thin bandy girls run around like idiots. (A/n: nothing against cheerleaders. I was once one)

Just then, I was pounced on by two cold arms wrapping around my face. I tensed, scared. Next someone said gravely, "Isabella Marie Swan, if you would like to live, you need to…"

CLIFFY….elle, don't spoil it.