Disclaimer: So I woke up this morning, looked in the mirror, and realized that I'm still not Stephenie Meyer. I guess I don't own Twilight.
Notes: First of all, thanks to everyone who took the time to read, and especially to those of you who reviewed - I really appreciate your comments! I hope the story continues to hold your interest. That said, this is another slow and rather long chapter (almost 5,000 words, yikes) - I wanted to spend more time developing Angela's relationship with Ben and Bella before I got to the interesting stuff. The scenes should be familiar from Eclipse, although I tried not to make them exact copies. I mean, you've already read it, right? No? What the hell - go read the book and get back to me, fool. Jeez.
Everyone else, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Comments and constructive criticism are deeply appreciated.
Chapter Two
On the plus side, by the time I finally collapse into bed at four a.m., I am too tired for nightmares: if I dream anything in my few hours of unconsciousness, I don't remember it when I wake up an hour late.
Which brings me to the negative side.
I don't even have time for breakfast, much less a shower – Ben pulls into my driveway as I'm frantically trying to brush my teeth and put my hair in a ponytail at the same time. I don't bother changing out of the clothes I'd worn to bed or find proper shoes, choosing instead to keep my sweatpants on and tug a blue wool cardigan on over my T-shirt as I shove my feet into my beat-up (and, I would later realize with dismay, sort of smelly) Birkenstocks. I run out the door with half of my books in my arms instead of my bookbag. Ben raises his eyebrows as I throw myself into the passenger seat, panting and flushed.
"I'd say 'Good morning,' but you'd probably stab me."
"Overslept," I pant, buckling myself in. "I just woke up ten minutes ago – I didn't have time to shower or eat and…is that smell coming from my shoes?"
"Well, I wasn't going to say anything…" Ben begins, then laughs at my mortified expression.
"Relax, Angela, I don't smell anything. Really. Here, eat this." He reaches behind his seat, fumbles around, and comes up with a slightly squashed banana.
"How long has that been in here?" I ask suspiciously.
"Since this morning – see, it's not rotting or anything, just a little…"
"Squished and oozing?"
"A healthy ooze," Ben declares. "Loaded with potassium."
Ooze or no ooze, I'm starving. I devour the un-squashed part of the banana, only realizing once he's pulling into a parking space that I've probably just eaten Ben's breakfast.
"Ben, I'm sorry – you probably wanted that."
"Nah, I had, like, five muffins before I left. The banana was just for appearances."
"Thought someone would be analyzing your breakfast, huh? Don't blame you. Happens to me all the time."
"Yeah, I think I read about you in the gossip column. What killed me is that it was the same thing every day."
"I do not eat the same thing every day!"
"Honey Nut Cheerios with skim milk and strawberries," Ben counters. "And then you brush your teeth again."
"Are you stalking me?" I demand, twisting in my seat to stare at him incredulously.
"No, but I have been going out with you for a year," he says reasonably, cutting the engine. "You'd think I'd be somewhat familiar with your eating habits by now."
"Maybe," I admit, unbuckling my seat belt and opening the door. "But still – I don't think I could say what you have for breakfast."
"That's because I switch it up every morning. Each day is a new dietary adventure. It drives my mom nuts, but a man needs variety."
I say goodbye to him at my locker and start unloading my bookbag, greeting my friends as they pass but avoiding engaging in any prolonged conversation – my mind is fuzzy from two nights of dramatically shortened sleep.
I get through my morning classes on autopilot, barely registering my teachers' words even as I copy them into my binder. I wake up a little at the sight of the prom fliers on the cafeteria doors – it's this weekend, and I'm just now realizing that I don't really want to wear last year's dress. It's lame, but I want to get something new for Ben. But then again, he won't be wearing something new either. And either way, there's not much I can do about it now. At least I won't have to deal with the agony of trying to find a dress and shoes and jewelry that match three days before the dance. Talk about your nightmares.
I brought my lunch, but I buy a soda from one of the vending machines, figuring I could use the caffeine. I head towards my usual table – Ben's already there, so engrossed in some comic book that he doesn't notice his glasses are sliding down his nose. Alice is standing in line waiting to buy her lunch; I catch her eye and she shoots me a glinting smile. Bella and Edward have Spanish together, so they walk in side by side.
"Have you sent your announcements yet?" I ask the table in general once everyone sits down. I blurt this out because I'm in the middle of calculating how many envelopes I should address per day by next weekend to have them all finished, in hopes that breaking the task down into pieces will make it seem less overwhelming. It isn't working. And it turns out I'm the only one who's even concerned about this – Alice and Edward are done, I happen to know that Ben's mom is taking care of it for him, and Bella doesn't have an extended family to invite. Which makes me feel a little insensitive, so of course I stupidly begin blathering about my mom's hundred cousins and the Herculean labor of hand-addressing the announcements that's in store for me.
"I'll help you," Bella offers. "If you don't mind my terrible handwriting."
Relief sweeps over me in a wave.
"That's so nice of you," I gush. "I'll come over any time you want," I add, remembering that her dad grounded her until basically the end of time, although she hadn't gone into detail as to why. But Edward came back around the same time, so I've always suspected that it had something to do with him.
"Actually," Bella says, interrupting my speculation, "I'd rather go to your house if that's okay – I'm sick of mine. Charlie un-grounded me last night," she explains with a big grin, seeing my confused look.
"Really?" I ask, perking up. "I thought you were in for life."
"Me too! I thought I'd be long out of high school by the time he set me free."
"This is great," I say happily, excited for her. "We definitely have to celebrate!"
"You have no idea how good that sounds," she laughs.
"What should we do?" Alice muses, tapping her fingers together under her chin. Her eyes look glazed with possibilities. Apparently Bella knows the implications of that look, because her voice is dry as she says, "Whatever you're plotting, I doubt I'm that free."
"Free is free, isn't it?" Alice says stubbornly.
"I'm sure I still have boundaries – like, say, the continental U.S."
Ben and I laugh while Alice pouts. For a second it looks like she's genuinely upset – but if the Cullens are as rich as people say (or rather, gossip), maybe a quick jaunt out of the country isn't a ludicrous notion.
"Then what are we doing tonight?" Alice persists.
"Honestly, I think it might be better to give Charlie a few days to make sure he wasn't joking. I don't want to freak him out by asking for favors too fast. Plus, it's a school night," Bella rationalizes.
"Then we'll just have to celebrate this weekend – after prom, of course," she adds out of courtesy to Ben and me.
"Sure," Bella concedes, smiling.
"Well, now that Europe's out the question, is there something more local you had in mind?" I ask Alice, and she immediately launches into a list of possibilities. She's talking too fast for commentary, so I either nod or shake my head in response to her suggestions. Ben tries to follow for a couple minutes, but eventually his comic book recaptures his attention.
"Just hanging around in Port Angeles might be fun," I say thoughtfully. "We could all grab dinner at La Bella Italia, take a walk by the pier…"
It's a moment before I realize Alice isn't listening. Not only is she not listening, she has the freakiest expression on her face – totally blank, eyes unblinking and unfocused like she's gazing into some middle distance. Her pupils have dilated so much they overwhelm the warm topaz color of her irises.
"Alice? Alice!"
I wave my hand frantically in front of her face, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. God, I'm not sure she's even breathing –
A smooth, musical laugh temporarily distracts me. I glance over at Edward, the source, and then Alice flinches in her seat. I look at her worriedly, but the blank expression is gone – she looks completely normal again.
"Naptime already, Alice?" Edward teases her, and she laughs sheepishly.
"I'm sorry! I must have been daydreaming."
"Better than facing two more hours of school," Ben points out, seemingly unaffected by what just happened.
"Angela, forgive me – what were you saying?" Alice continues, and pays rapt attention as I repeat my suggestion about walking around Port Angeles, nodding enthusiastically and throwing out more ideas. But I can't help but feel unnerved for the rest of the period, although that could just be sleep deprivation catching up with me.
Ben and I have French together after lunch, and I force myself to focus on the story he's telling me as we walk to the Languages building instead of constantly analyzing and reanalyzing Alice's weird behavior at lunch. I silently berate myself for fabricating all this drama – as if there's not enough going on right now! The rainbow of fliers on the walls attests to that: graduation announcements, cap and gown fittings, prom, junior campaigns, some "Save the Olympian Wolf" effort – the colors and words seem to spin in a sick merry-go-round of pressure in my exhausted mind.
"You okay?" Ben's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. We've paused in front of the French classroom, and his eyes are concerned.
"Yeah, just really tired," I say lamely. I feel sort of bad for not elaborating more, especially since he gives me a look like he knows I'm holding back, but is this really the place to get into it? I've vented to him enough about my crazy mom, our unreasonable teachers, the pressure I'm under, and so on. I'm starting to feel like a broken record.
And yet, I can't help but think that all of this would be tolerable if it wasn't for my subconscious antics. Even when my bizarre dreams aren't waking me up ten times a night, the memory of them bleeds into my days and messes with my mood. I'm tired, distracted, and disturbed the vast majority of the time, and I'm getting sick of it already.
My bad mood persists through French and English, and Ben must have decided to give me space to work through it, because he's uncharacteristically quiet as he drives me home.
"Hey, Angela?" he ventures as I'm getting out of the car. I bend down and poke my head back in.
"Yeah?"
"You know you can tell me if something's bugging you, right?"
"Of course I do," I say, surprised.
"Okay. You just seemed kind of out of it today, is all."
"I know, I'm sorry. I just haven't been sleeping well."
"Okay," he repeats. "Well, if you're sure you're all right…" he lets his voice trail off, and I hastily reassure him that I'm fine.
"Really," I insist. "I'll feel better this weekend, when we can just have fun at prom and forget about school for a few hours."
"No kidding," he agrees. "All right, then. I'll see you tomorrow, and call me if you want anything."
"You're the greatest, Ben," I tell him sincerely.
"My mom was right!" he jokes, pumping his fist. We say goodbye and he backs carefully out of my driveway, then waves as he drives away. I stand and stare blankly out at the street for a few minutes before I go inside.
-
Prom is fun, although it's too bad that Bella and Edward aren't there with us. (It turns out they went to visit Bella's mom in Florida. I bet Bella's glad to see her – as aggravating as my mom can be, I don't think I'd want to be across the country from her all the time, and from what Bella's told me about her mom, the two of them are very close.) Ben compliments me on my old dress like he's never seen it before, and when the DJ ill-advisedly plays an old Spice Girls hit – I notice Jessica and her posse singing along, looking thrilled – Ben takes my hand and says, mock-seriously, "Angela, I want this to be our song. We shall dance inappropriately to it on our 50th anniversary, just like Jessica and Mike. By then I'll have mastered the pelvic thrust."
I nearly choke on my Sprite, trying not to laugh at the said couple on the dance floor, but give in to hopeless giggles when I spot Mr. Berty making his way over to assert school policy, his expression deeply aggrieved.
Predictably, Lauren Mallory makes the obligatory comment about my recycled dress ("It's so pretty, but it looks sort of familiar…"), but I grudgingly have to admit that she looks stunning in her own short, shimmery grey number. Thankfully, I'm not the only one who decided against buying a new dress – I spot a few other girls in "familiar" outfits in the crowd.
In the end, partly because we're not great friends with anyone else at the dance and partly because Ben has to work in the morning, we decide to forego the after-parties. Ben drops me off at home shortly after midnight; shoes in hand (I abandoned them thirty minutes after arriving), I tell him to be careful driving home and let myself into my house quietly. My mom's already asleep, and my dad is leading a weekend retreat up at church, so I don't have to rehash the events of the night just yet. I'm glad – I had a good time, but I'm beat.
I gratefully replace my dress with loose pajamas, wipe off the small amount of makeup I had reluctantly put on earlier in the evening, and drop into bed. Tired as I am, I'm kind of buzzed as well, no doubt the effect of the loud music and endless supply of free soda. I try to close my eyes, but they keep springing open.
The moon is bright and casts the shadows of the tree branches outside my window onto my ceiling – I watch them move for a while, hoping that their gentle swaying motions will lull me to sleep.
Which is why I notice when a new, solid shape appears among the spindly branches.
My blood goes cold, something I'd read about but never actually experienced. Outwardly I stay absolutely still, so still I stop breathing, but inwardly I'm panicking.
What is that is that a person oh my god there's someone outside my window oh god oh god…
A scream builds in my throat and I clamp my eyes shut, and when I open them again – nothing. Just the shadows of the branches swaying innocently on my ceiling, no other shape in sight. Heart pounding, too afraid to actually get up and check the window, I continue to lie very, very still in bed, eyes frozen open. The shape doesn't reappear, and eventually I start to suspect that I imagined the entire thing. Or, if I didn't imagine it, that I just freaked out over nothing.
It could have been an owl (it was too big) or maybe a cloud blocking some of the light (it was too solid) or just something non-menacing and safe.
It could have been. It probably was.
Even so, I don't fall asleep for a long time.
-
I don't tell anyone about the incident, but it nags at me from the back of my mind all Sunday. Fortunately (or maybe not so fortunately, depending on who you ask), distraction arrives on Monday.
It arrives in the form of the hugest boy I've ever laid eyes on. Well over six feet tall, incredibly muscular, and the owner of an equally enormous black motorcycle, he catches the attention of everyone walking into school, but he's only waiting for one person.
Or maybe two people. It doesn't matter: you generally don't get Bella or Edward without the other.
I feel guilty for staring, but it's almost impossible not to: the boy with the motorcycle – Jacob Black, I suddenly realize, Bella's friend from La Push – and Edward look ready to rip each other's throats out, even though they're talking too quietly for any of us bystanders to hear. It's so weird – for a minute Edward even looks scary, and I find myself thinking, unexpectedly, Bella, what have you gotten yourself into?
Then I feel really stupid, and turn resolutely away from the scene that's none of my business anyway. I spot Principal Greene making his way towards the crowd to break it up, which spurs me on as I head to my first class – I'd rather not cross his path when he looks this aggravated.
The confrontation between the Edward and Jacob is the only thing anyone talks about for the rest of the day. Ben tells me that Mike Newton is placing bets on which of them would take the other in a fight, which is so typical I can't even muster the appropriate level of disgust.
"Sucks for Bella, though, getting caught up in the middle of that," he remarks. I have to agree. I've never understood why girls like the idea of two boys fighting over them; I think that actually being in that situation would be awful, and judging by Bella's morose expression, I'm right. It must be even worse when one of those boys used to be a good friend, and your boyfriend apparently despises him. Who would want to choose between them? Who could?
Bella looks put out, even shaken, for the rest of the week, but when I ask if she'd rather not slave over my graduation announcements on Saturday, she insists that she still wants to come.
"After work," she promises. "Trust me, I could use the distraction."
"Oh, I know what you mean."
I can't help but notice that she looks slightly skeptical as she says, "I bet – things are kind of crazy around here."
Well, I guess that's one way to put it. I've been sleeping with my curtains drawn since Saturday night, and the memory of the shadowy apparition still disturbs me. Yet I still can't bring myself to tell anyone about it – probably because it's ridiculous for an eighteen-year-old to be literally afraid of shadows.
When Bella shows up at my house the next day, I notice immediately that she looks better, although her eyes are anxious. Ben's over – nothing unusual; we almost always hang out at either his house or mine over the weekends – but Austin shows up at almost the same time as Bella, so soon it's just us girls.
It strikes me, as I divide the pile of envelopes, that this is the first time in a long time that it's just been Bella and me. It's strange to see her without Edward, like she's missing a limb.
"Whoa," she comments, looking over the massive stack with poorly-concealed dismay.
I grimace at her apologetically.
"I thought you were exaggerating," she admits.
"Are you sure you still want to do this? I know it's a lot." I bite my lip – I've grown somewhat used to the Mt. Everest of unaddressed announcements, but as I consider the task from Bella's perspective, I'm struck with a renewed sense of shock and hopelessness. But to my surprise, she isn't put off.
"By all means, put me to work," she says, dropping decisively into one of the chairs and grabbing a pen. "I've got all day."
We share my mom's address book, and for a while the only noise is the squeaking of our pens on paper. But I notice her chewing on her lower lip out of the corner of my eye, and every now and then she hesitates a little too long over an envelope, her expression distant.
"So…" I venture. "Are you doing okay?"
"What?" she looks over at me, taken aback.
"Nothing, it's just that you seem a little anxious."
"Is it that obvious?" she asks with a rueful smile.
"Oh no, not really," I backtrack hastily – I didn't mean to imply that she looked panicked or something. I look back down at the envelope in front of me and resume scrawling out my great-aunt Maureen's address.
"I'll mind my own business," I tell Bella placidly, since she doesn't look like she wants to talk about whatever's on her mind.
"It's Edward," Bella admits after a moment. "He's mad at me."
"Mad at you?" I repeat, glancing up in surprise. "I find that hard to believe." Edward and Bella are so obvious about their adoration for each other, it's impossible to picture him actually angry with her.
The memory of his frightening, almost inhuman face in the parking lot rises, unbidden, in my mind's eye. I push it back down impatiently.
As if reading my mind, Bella asks, "Remember Jacob Black?"
"Ah. That would explain it. So," I add playfully, "he's jealous of Jacob, huh?"
"Oh, I doubt that," Bella responds, making a face. "No, he thinks Jake is kind of a…bad influence."
That strikes me as an oddly paternal view for him to take, but Edward, in addition to being oddly courteous, well-spoken, and – it has to be said – ridiculously good looking, is also pretty protective. Way more protective than Ben, that's for sure. I can't really imagine Edward leaving Bella alone to hit a movie with his brothers, for instance.
"I see. Where is Edward, by the way?"
"He's supposed to be camping." I immediately pick up on her doubtful tone, and give her a questioning look.
"He might have come back early," she explains.
"Because of Jacob."
"Yeah…" she shrugs.
I chew on my lip for a second before I say, as lightly as I can manage, "You know Bella, I've seen how Jacob looks at you. Maybe Edward thinks he's…dangerous…but I bet jealousy's a factor, too."
"It's not like that with Jacob," she insists.
"For you maybe, but for Jacob…" I point out gently.
Bella frowns down at the desk. "He knows how I feel. And I've talked about it with Edward."
"Edward's only human, Bella – he can know logically that he has no reason to be jealous, but he can't help how he feels."
Bella makes a face and falls silent, so I add, "He'll get over it."
"I hope so," she says quietly. "Jake's going through a hard time – it's tough not being able to be there for him when I know he needs me."
"It's got to be hard," I say sympathetically. "I know you guys are close."
"He's practically family," she agrees.
"I wonder what Ben would do if I had a friend he didn't like."
"Probably what any other guy would do," Bella says wryly, half-smiling.
"Yeah, probably," I grin back.
It's pretty clear that she doesn't want to talk about her boy trouble anymore, so I change the subject to the first thing that comes to mind: "I got my dorm assignment yesterday. I'm in the farthest building from campus, naturally."
Bella groans in sympathy, obviously relieved to be talking about something else. "Does Ben know where he's staying yet?"
We're both going to the University of Washington together. Some would accuse me of structuring my life around my boyfriend, but since a fourth of our class is probably going to wind up there too, I don't see it that way.
"The closest dorm to campus," I answer. "Figures. Hey, have you decided where you're going yet?"
Bella hesitates, fiddling with the edge of an envelope, before responding, "Alaska, I think. The university in Juneau."
"Alaska?" I can't keep the incredulous tone out of my voice. "I mean, that's great, but…I don't know, I just figured you'd go somewhere warmer," I joke lamely. Inwardly, my stomach seems to shrink. Ben's undeniably my best friend, but out of all the other girls at school, I feel like Bella and I have the most in common. The thought of her all the way up in Alaska makes me feel lonely all of a sudden.
"Yeah," Bella says, the casualness in her voice sounding forced. "I guess Forks converted me."
"What about Edward?" I ask, although if I had to bet…
Bella brightens, a grin spreading across her face as she says, "Alaska's not too cold for Edward either."
…I'd have won.
"Of course not," I tease her, then sigh. "You're going to be so far away, though…you won't really be able to visit. I'll miss you. Will you email me?"
"If I can still type after this," she jokes, gesturing towards the envelopes. We both laugh and the somber feeling dissolves. We move on to more cheerful topics then, chatting about majors and how the dorm food will probably be just as atrocious as our current cafeteria food. Bella convinces me to try a photography class, something I've always been interested in but too self-conscious to try besides taking the occasional candid for the yearbook. I probe her about classes she might be interested in, but she admits that she has no idea what she wants to major in.
"I mean, I love the classics and I got into writing short stories when I was in middle school, so English probably makes the most sense," she says thoughtfully. "But maybe I should go for something more practical."
"I don't know – I think if you're passionate about something, you should stick with it. You could always test out other areas while you're fulfilling your core requirements, though."
She winds up helping me stamp the envelopes too, and then we just sit for a minute, massaging our hands.
"Still attached," I observe. "Better than I was expecting."
"I might even be able to use it again…someday," Bella agrees.
The front door opens and bangs shut, and heavy feet clomp up the stairs.
"Ang?" Ben calls. Bella looks at me, a weird, tight smile on her face.
"Guess that's my cue, huh?" she asks, getting to her feet slowly.
"You don't have to leave! Although I should warn you…Ben's going to describe the movie. In detail. Possibly with reenactments."
"Charlie's going to be wondering where I am, anyway," she says, shrugging. She picks her bag up off the floor and slides the strap onto her shoulder.
"Thanks so much for helping me," I tell her. "You seriously have no idea how much I owe you."
"No," she protests. "I had a good time. It was nice to hang out like this, just the girls. We should do it again."
"Yeah, definitely."
There's a light knock on the door, and I call, "Come in, Ben."
"Ladies," Ben greets in a faux-smooth voice. Bella laughs as I scoff. "Good to see you survived. Too bad there's nothing left to do – I was all set to help you out."
"Sure, sure," Bella says sarcastically. Ben affects an offended expression, which melts away as he turns to me excitedly.
"You should've been there for this one. It was so awesome – the fight sequences were…man, I can't even tell you. You have to see it."
"Mm-hmm. Tell me, Ben, did any of these fight sequences involve…slo-mo?"
"Well…"
"Impossible acrobatics?"
"That's kind of a given, but–"
"I think I'll have to deprive myself of this particular experience."
Bella laughs, although there's a nervous edge to it. "I'd better get going. I'll see you in school, guys."
"See you," I sigh – Ben is practically bouncing in place, he's so eager to start busting out ninja moves. Once the front door closes, I turn to him; he's already moving into a crane stance.
"Tell you what," I suggest slyly, scooting my rolling chair closer to him. "How about you hone a more interesting skill?"
"You know…I might consider that," he says, grinning. For a good, long time after that, no one talks.
It's the last nice day I'll have for a long time.
Thanks for reading!