As extended as his weekend was, Edward found himself bored with everything he did and constantly at a loss for something to do; frustrated that he was not as relaxed as he had hoped the extra day off would make him.
He'd loaded the last six boxes into the attic as his mother had asked, while somehow simultaneously being roped into dusting the unused dining room.
He stared at the white walls of his bedroom until his eyes hurt. He already finished his homework, and started on his perspective drawing for his art class with no progress. Played—and lost—against Emmett in some kind of wrestling video game twice. Eventually he'd stooped so low into the realms of ennui that he'd cleaned the entire kitchen. Practicing piano only got on his other family member's nerves as the evening stretched on, and there was nothing he hadn't already read that was resting on his bookshelves.
"There's nothing to do." He complained, slumping onto one of the sofa's in the large living room, letting his legs hang over one the sofa's arms.
"Go hang out with some friends then." Emmett chided, who was perched on the other sofa, watching a comedy show.
Edward sighed. "Everyone I know is busy." He would never admit to not having made any friends whatsoever after being here for close to half a month. Emmett would never stop pestering him about it if he did, and Edward's self-esteem was bad enough as it is.
"Even that girl you mentioned?"
"Girl?"
"Yes a girl. What was her name? Beth?"
Edward scowled, keeping his attention on the ceiling. "It's Bella, Emmett. Not Beth."
Emmett shrugged turning the volume up a little. "Whatever. Call her up and ask her to hang out."
No, that was impossible. He'd only just met Bella a day ago on Thursday. They weren't friends; hell, they were barely acquaintances. He didn't have her phone number or her address, anyway.
"Even if I did, I don't know how to get anywhere." It wasn't much of an excuse, but it was partially true. He knew how to get to school and back, to the convenience store down the road, to the library, the grocery store, and to the hospital where his father worked. Any of the places Bella had mentioned to him yesterday had been forgotten.
"Well what do you want me to do? I can't make you get a social life, Ed."
Emmett normally didn't have much aggression when it came to Edward and being extroverted, but after thirty minutes of suggestions, all being denied in some kind of excuse one way or the other, he became beyond annoyed with Edward's introverting habits, claiming it wasn't his fault if Edward was being anti-social on a Saturday night.
Instead Edward headed to his room, the one place where it didn't matter what he did; laid on his bed, and let the hums of Bach's Cello "Prelude" seep from his stereo, lulling him to sleep.
Sunday turned out to be even less successful than Saturday, despite having the entire house to himself.
Alice had borrowed his car to drive to the local library, his parents were out spending the day together, and Emmett was over at a friend's house celebrating a team's victory. Again, Edward occupied his time doing mundane tasks; which mostly consisted of practicing piano, watching the television or having staring contests with his ceiling. In this loneliness he could not help feeling upset that he'd moved away from Alaska. He'd just begun to make friends and then was suddenly snatched away, to come to this place.
Having no desire to watch other people on the screen live their lives with enjoyment and the happiness that pursuing what they wanted come true, he made his way back upstairs into his bedroom; letting the silence enfold him.
Monday could not come soon enough, but when it did, he was almost relieved to have somewhere to be, even if it was school. Emmett had stayed home to recuperate from his celebrating and honestly, Edward was almost glad his older brother wasn't feeling well. After being snapped at for something Emmett knew Edward had always had such a hard time dealing with, he really didn't think he would be able to stand being around him. Alice never bothered Edward about his practically non-existent social life, unless he ever actually wanted to talk about it, and he cherished that. Likewise, he was there for her in any problems she had, though there were few things she had difficulties with.
It's not that Emmett wasn't a good listener, he just put so much of his own opinion into it, that it would get to the point where talking to him only made things worse. They were both outgoing, while he just…wasn't. He'd always hoped to change that about himself but had no success whenever he tried self-motivation.
Pulling the car into his preferred parking spot, he saw her, dressed in something similar she'd worn on Thursday. In a way he couldn't explain—or really comprehend—he felt some kind of relief seeing her walk past him again. "Bella," he made his way to her side, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, letting Alice walk into school by herself (though the side stare she gave him as she went on without him went unnoticed).
"How was your weekend?" She glanced in his direction but kept her eyes down.
"Glum." she mumbled, wiping her hands on her paint spotted jeans. He tried his best to keep his mouth shut when he saw her face.
She looked like an entirely different person than the one he had met Thursday. It was difficult for him not to say anything about it out loud. Not about how horrible she seemed to be feeling, the messy state of her braided hair, the gaunt condition of her cheeks, or the worsened state of the now darker circles under her eyes.
Maybe she'd caught a cold, or had been sick since last Thursday, and he'd just failed to notice. As much as he wanted to, he didn't ask. But that didn't mean he wasn't concerned, seeing as how only three days had passed since they last saw each other. He decided not to make too big a deal about it, for now. For all he knew she could have been up all night.
They made their way into school in silence, until parting ways to their first classes.
As the day went on he didn't see her again. Not in literature, gym or art. To say he wasn't worried would be a lie, but he felt weird worrying about someone he hardly knew.
Really, he shouldn't. For whatever reasons she had for looking the way she did, and for not showing up to class, was her business.
Once the final bell rang he walked out into the hall, finding Alice so he could explain that he was staying behind after school to finish his perspective drawing with help from his art teacher, Mrs. DeLatour. She was ecstatic when he handed his car keys over since she was rarely given the chance to drive. She promised to drive back to get him around six. Edward turned on his heel heading back into the art room but was stunned; staring at the last person he expected to see.
Bella.
She was sitting crossed legged, her feet tucked under her bottom, while her sneakers lay under her chair, showing hints of her pale pink socks. Her jacket was discarded on a nearby table with her backpack. Several paint brushes of various sizes were in her left hand, and a paint palette was resting on her right knee.
She didn't acknowledge his presence, and kept her attention on the canvas in front of her. He walked till he was able to stand behind her and look over her shoulder at the creation.
The canvas itself was covered in numerous shades of blue. There was more, he saw, as he moved closer. A nude woman—at least she looked nude—she was only shown from the shoulders up, with no indications of any kind of clothing. The woman had antlers sprouting from her head and wore white lilies in her long hair. Vines sprouted from her neck and seemed to spread around her shoulders; shielding. All was filled in except for her eyes, which remained blank.
"Where've you been all day?" he asked, placing his hand on the back of her chair. "Were you sick? You looked a little pale this morning."
A small smile crept along her face but it didn't stay. "I was in the nurse's office. She had to go, so I came in here. I'm feeling much better."
Being in the nurse's office sounded normal enough…but to be in it all day? Why didn't she just go home? Maybe she'd been so unwell she couldn't drive herself?
"None of your business, none of your business,"he reminded himself silently. "Well, what are you painting, then?"
Bella didn't budge, remaining in her stiff sitting position. He almost thought she was ignoring him until she tilted her head to the side and looked up at his face.
"What does it look like to you?" she placed the paint brushes she was holding onto the easel tray.
He stepped back shifting his weight onto his other foot. "A self-portrait maybe?"
"Hm. Could be. Try thinking a little deeper. What does it sayto you?"
Think deeper? How much deeper could there be? What else could it be but a self-portrait? It looked a lot like her in the face but that was about it. And what was up with the antlers? "I don't know," he admitted after a few short minutes of pondering over the strange piece.
She smiled, again. "Really Edward, have you never dealt with symbolism before? Especially when Monique blabs on about it all the time."
"Monique?"
"Mrs. DeLatour." It was uncommon for him, to hear someone call a professor by their first name, let alone be comfortable enough to be friends with one. "Uh, well…I guess not." He shrugged his shoulders with a light smirk. Bella quietly put her shoes back on, set the palette on a counter and headed over to the sink; paint covered brushes in hand.
"Your mind is like an ocean you know," she said nonchalantly over the faucet, her slender fingers smoothing over the brush bristles, gliding the paint down the drain. "You shouldn't just stay where your feet touch the bottom." The brushes made an audible clink as they were set in a plastic cup nearby. Bella took her canvas off the easel carefully, and set it on the drying rack.
She pulled her jacket over her head, grabbed her backpack, and walked out without another word, leaving Edward behind.
He confronted her the next morning in their shared literature class. She sat at the back table and didn't look any better than she had yesterday, though she still held the same recognizable dazed expression from when he'd first seen her, a few weeks ago.
Making his way over; he sat across from her seat firmly.
"Feet touch the bottom?"
She turned her attention towards him, her eyes a bit glossy. "Sorry, what?"
"You think I'm shallow," he snapped matter-of-factly. Her eyes narrowed.
"Not you. Just the way you think."
"What?" What did that even mean, he wondered. Was that some kind of weird Bella-esque way of saying he was stupid? She folded her arms lightly, ignoring the stares a few other students were giving them from Edward's loud outburst.
"You base your thoughts on what you're "supposed" to see. On what is expected of you to see. When really if you'd just base your thoughts on what youthink—look a little deeper than what is on the surface—you might find that you'll get somewhere."
He tensed his shoulders and glared. "Was that supposed to be advice or an insult?"
"Advice." She responded calmly, unaffected by his increasingly angered tone.
"Yeah well it doesn't make any sense. What does me seeing the surface have to do with anything?"
Bella sighed as if it were the clearest thing in the world to understand. "It means you have trouble reading between the lines. You see only the surface instead of looking beneath to what is actually being portrayed. You read what you're "meant" to read, you listen to what you're "supposed" to listen to because that is what's accepted. You're too close-minded."
A sharp intake of breath came into Edward's lungs, as he prepared himself to make his point understood, even if it meant yelling. "Advice my ass" he grumbled internally. Who the hell gives advice in the form of an insult? However, his defensive argument was hushed as their literature professor, Mr. Streisen, entered the room demanding attention. Over the next fifty minutes of the period, slightly ignoring the discussion about Tim O'Brien's The Things They Carried, Edward couldn't help but repeat what Bella had snapped at him.
At least, he wished she had snapped, instead of being so damn calm and collected throughout the whole thing, so he could have an excuse that would validate the anger he was feeling towards her.
It was only forty minutes later that his anger lessened quicker than it had been obtained and he realized that she hadn't insulted him, not really. Well, maybe a little, but perhaps in some kind of incomprehensible way, all Bella was trying to do was help him? He didn't know. Sure, he struggled with art and hidden meanings, but he'd missed the point she was trying to make.
But Bella didn't know him, either. She didn't know how he thought or how he viewed the world, she didn't have the right to judge him. To him, if only to let off steam, he figured he should get to be mad at her, right?
He decided to cast the thoughts away for now, deeming them useless at the moment. He'd been so lost in wondering how to react; he'd barely heard Professor Streisen announcing an essay assignment. Before he could raise his hand to ask him to repeat himself (something the professor wasn't fond of), Bella scooted her notebook against his arm, showing him the assignment written in her messy handwriting.
A silent thank you, a small nod in return. But he was still upset with her.
While he sat through his Civics class—a class he didn't hate, but wasn't exactly overjoyed to be in, either—he spent a lot of time thinking over how much Bella's simple answers bothered him.
And why should they? She didn't say much except that he should be more open minded. He came to the conclusion that maybe her words seemed like such an insult to him, because they were probably true. Out of his immediate family he wasn't very artistic. Alice was the true artist of the family, besides his Mother's sewing and knitting abilities. Emmett was the athlete, his Father was exceptionally smart—he was a surgeon for crying out loud. And Edward, he was…well, he'd been playing piano since he was six, and could play better than any of his siblings or parents.
That was something, at least; though when compared to everyone else it didn't seem like much at all. He'd never been to any recitals, or received any awards unlike his siblings. "God, stop complaining" he berated internally. "The past isn't worth dwelling on."Even after all these years, he found that old habits really did die hard.
When lunch finally came he hurried to the cafeteria, eager to apologize for snapping, and maybe try again to understand what she was going on about. He felt so foolish for reacting the way he did. The crowded lunchroom was practically buzzing with the entire Junior section of the high school talking all at once, making him wish he'd paid more attention to where, or who, Bella sat with.
After looking around the entire room twice, he was disappointed to find that she was nowhere to be seen. He would've checked the outdoor tables, but it was pouring rain, so of course she wouldn't be sitting there.
Again, she was absent the rest of the afternoon.
He drove himself and Alice home, with only the radio playing between them, and the audible swooshthe wipers made against the windshield. Once parked, they went inside, keeping the cold out and the warmth in.
A/N: I know, I know. Still slow, with little action. This particular chapter was turning into an eight pager, so I had to end it at a point I thought was appropriate. Please review and tell me what you think. As always, I'll do my best to update as soon as possible.