I make no money with this story, nor am I planning to.

Patefacio

Isabella was halfway to Port Angeles when she first thought that it would've been nice if her car had a radio. She knew her father didn't buy one for a reason: he wouldn't have been able to control what his daughter was listening to when he wasn't there. That's why they only had records, tapes and CD-s at the house. It would also have been frivolous. The car was a necessity, music was not. Out of boredom she starting humming, and by the time she'd reached the Children's Center she was singing little songs she'd made up on the spot. They hardly rhymed at all and her singing was off key, but she didn't care.

The Children's Center was in a worn down, ugly and very gray concrete building. It looked quite small from the outside and just generally very sad. There were no trees in the parking lot and Isabella was reminded of the vague notion of 'the ghetto' she had in her head. This feeling only grew stronger when she saw that above the entrance the words 'Port Angeles Children's Center' were actually painted in that graffiti sort of way. She shuddered and pulled her coat a little lighter around herself before entering.

It was a whole other story inside. The reception area looked warm and friendly and Isabella was instantly reassured.

Dad wouldn't send me to the ghetto.

She was directed to an office at the end of one of two hallways in the building. She knocked three times.

"Come in."

It looked like a normal office, except for all the kid drawings that covered every surface on the walls. The woman sitting behind the desk looked up from whatever she was doing and smiled at Isabella.

"Hi, you must be Bella Swan. I'm Irina."

"Yes, hello."

"So Bella, your Dad tells me you're interested in becoming a teacher."

Isabella didn't know what to say. Was she? Maybe. She was more concerned with how this woman was taking such liberties with her name. Angela called her Bella sometimes, but she had earned the right for such familiarity through countless years of friendship. How had this woman even come up with that? Her father certainly never would have introduced her as such. She knew she had been silent for too long and had to answer, so she momentarily put a stop to the righteous tirade that was going on in her head.

"I'm considering it. I'm not sure really."

"That's great" Irina said, her smile never faltering. If not for her careless attitude about names Isabella would have considered her appropriately polite. "You know, we're just happy when people want to help and if we can help them figure some things out in the process, even better."

"I'm happy to help." Irina chuckled, then handed a folder to Isabella.

"How much do you know about how we work, what we do, the usual drill?"

"Not much. Just what my father told me. You help kids with rough backgrounds, right?"

"Something like that. There's a lot of information in that folder, you can read it when you get home, but today I just want to show you around, introduce you to everyone. Is that cool?"

"Sure" Isabella said while standing up.

Irina led her down the hallway back to the reception area and on the way told her who all the other rooms belong to. Irina was the boss or something; then came the vice-president, Kate; then there was a publicist called Tanya and two educators (something like Elazar? and Carmen) and two child psychologists, one named Garrett and the other Ted. Basically, they were the only paid staff. Even the receptionist was a volunteer. There was also a break room with couches and a TV, some books, two computers and a kitchen area. Irina introduced her to Anne, the receptionist for the day then finally showed Isabella where 'the real action was'. The other hallway was a lot wider and only had three rooms open from it. One was solely for games and dolls and that sort of kid stuff, while the other two seemed more like classrooms. Finally, there was a small backyard with real trees and swings and everything. The kids were currently all gathered there for playtime. Irina said that when the weather permitted it they always played outside.

"We usually have four to six volunteers and about twenty kids on weekdays, so the kids are well looked after and the volunteers aren't overwhelmed. The receptionist thing is kind of the short end of the stick, but it's always a different person there, so you all suffer equally." Irina laughed at her own joke, then continued. "That girl over there by the monkey bars is Rachel, the guy with the crying kid is Noah, the chick pushing that swing is Sarah and... wait, where's Rose?" Irina looked around in confusion for a second the resumed her monologue.

"Anyway, so there are some kids who come regularly, though they don't all come on the same days. It's easier with them. I mean Garrett or Ted always check a kid out, the first three times they're here that's what happens actually, but we can't turn anyone away unless they're a danger to themselves or others. So we have some difficult kids with real big problems, or you know, small and annoying ones" she stopped to laugh a little again and presumably to breathe "but over all they are awesome. Even the ones that sometimes make you want to scratch your eyes out."

Isabella nodded in understanding, even though she was a little overwhelmed. Irina motioned for them to a sit on a wooden bench with a table attached to it and Isabella complied. Irina was squinting at her, because the setting sun was just at the right angle to be completely annoying.

"You have any questions?"

"What are the kids' backgrounds like? Like, why do they need to come here and why do they have those problems?"

Irina opened her mouth to speak, but then didn't. She was looking somewhere behind Isabella, her smile widening. A second later someone sat down beside Isabella and greeted Irina. Isabella turned to look at her, but the other girl beat her to it by a second.

"What the fuck?"

It was Rosalie Hale. Rosalie - that sort of girl, ruiner of one Emmett McCarty - Hale volunteered at a Children's Center. Rosalie's face was frozen in a sneer, Irina couldn't decide whether to be amused or alarmed and Isabella was... blank.

"I could ask you the same thing" she finally said when she recovered.

"What's going on?" Irina asked.

Rosalie and Isabella looked at each other again, trying to decide what to say. In the end, Isabella's politeness won over her incredulousness.

"We go to the same school. I guess I just didn't expect to see Rosalie here. And I guess she didn't expect to see me."

"Actually, Rose is one of our most devoted volunteers

" Irina informed her. "We're really luck to have her, partly because she's totally awesome, but mostly because she really loves the kids."

Irina stopped talking, taking note of Rose's tight lipped smile. She raised a questioning brow at her, but Rose just shook her head and stood up.

"I'm gonna go check up on Pete."

About two hours later Isabella's head was way too full of new names, notwithstanding her own, as thanks to Irina everyone just called her Bella here. She knew she should've clarified that she preferred Isabella, but once Rose (not Rosalie) showed up, she could hardly speak, let alone worry about a name.

The most confusing thing of all was that Rose seemed, well, sweet. Apart from the initial cursing, of course. On her way to her truck she noticed Rose leaning against the building. She was smoking. Perhaps not so sweet after all.

When she walked past her Rose called out after her.

"Hey Bella!" She turned back, a little wary of what was coming next. "I'd really appreciate it if you could not mention that I do this at school." Oh.

"Oh." Isabella furrowed her brows and scratched her head. Great, now I've become the cliche of confused.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

On her way home Isabella didn't sing happy little tunes. She had a headache and that feeling of panic was welling up in her again. She pulled over to calm down, because she was in no state to drive. She didn't understand what was going on. Rosalie Hale couldn't be a good person. Yet, had she not seen proof that she was, in fact, if not a completely good person, than at the very least a decent one?

That night she had trouble falling asleep and the next morning greeted her far too soon. When she looked in the mirror she wasn't sure who was looking back at her, but it certainly couldn't be her. This looked like a completely different Isabella Swan. One with doubts and questions and gray areas and very tired looking eyes.

That day when she looked at Edward she saw more of herself reflected in his eyes than the eye of that stranger in the mirror.

By Friday afternoon Isabella had it all figured out again. She would be polite to Rosalie and everyone else at the center, then she would go home. Why would she need to figure out Rosalie Hale? She was probably crazy from all those drugs she was always on. Not that Isabella had any proof that Rose was a junkie, but there were rumors. It wouldn't exactly be a surprising development considering what else she'd done. So for the first time since the beginning of the summer Isabella felt truly content. That feeling didn't waver when she parked her truck in front of the sad little building. It didn't waver when she saw how easily Rosalie dealt with these kids, how seamlessly she fit into the role of caregiver. It didn't waver when a kid called Anna peed herself and she had to clean it up. The problem was, she had to clean herself as well after that, which meant a bathroom, which meant mirrors. And when she chanced a glance at herself she felt oddly naked, like the flickering, too bright fluorescent light highlighted all her imperfections, saw into her soul and told her how it was all a lie, all through her own two dull, brown eyes. She thought maybe it was God speaking to her, but it just as well could have been Satan. All she knew was that it had all been a lie. It is all a lie. What exactly that meant she did not know. What had been a lie? Her calmness that day, certainly. That she used to know exactly what she wanted, how the world worked? She had thought she did. Maybe that was the lie. That the world wasn't perfect, divided into good and bad, pretty and ugly. But I know that. I'm not an idiot. I've read Dante and Byron and Shakespeare and Cosmo and God knows what else! Shades of gray, all that jazz. Isabella would have stayed like that, desolately staring at her own reflection, had Rosalie mucking Hale not entered the bathroom right that moment. They awkwardly maneuvered around each other to let the other one pass. They did that whole dance thing, where one steps left expecting the other to the same, then they switch and switch and...

"Jesus Christ Almighty just stand in that corner and let me pass already!" They stood, staring at each other, frozen for what seemed like minutes, her own words echoing through Isabella's head now. Can't pin this on anyone else, can you?

That night when she was leaving and saw Rose leaning against the wall and smoking in the same spot as the other night, Isabella waved at her, unsure. Rose raised her hand that was holding the cigarette then let it sort of hang there.

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