Hello again! Hope everyone's holiday plans are going well. I'll let you get to it. Shorter chapter, but not a filler at all. Enjoy!

Chapter Six

"Twenty-six thirty," Coach Brown called as Edward ran past him before skidding to a stop at the end of the six-mile run through the neighborhood around the school. As he raised his arms above his head to even out his breathing, he glanced around at the empty track – he was the first one back.

He grabbed his water bottle and took a long swallow, then mopped his face with his T-shirt, which he'd pulled off and tucked into the waistband of his shorts somewhere around the third mile. Even if it was October, this was Phoenix, and it was still hot.

Edward flopped on his back about ten feet from where Coach Brown stood at the edge of the grass that the quarter-mile track ran around. He could hear the splashes and whistles that meant the water polo team practicing. His eyes shut, and he watched the play of shadows across the fiery red of his eyelids as other people ran in and joined him on the grass. But he wasn't really thinking about them.

There'd been nothing from Anam Gi for over two weeks now; maybe he really wasn't worth anyone's time. He'd kept with his decision to not tell anyone in the Cullen house, and none of them had bothered him about his 'weird behavior' since he and Emmett had that argument. It was… almost okay.

But this world still didn't feel comfortable to Edward. So he spent most of his time either in his room or out of the house, just running. At least he was in good shape.

As the others got back and started to cool down, the chatter around Edward rose and fell. He heard, but he didn't really listen, as they all started talking about homework and girlfriends and their other stupid little issues. He wondered how any of them would react if they were ever really hurt.

"Okay, people, listen up," he heard Coach Brown call. He sat up and joined the informal group on the ground near Coach's feet. Edward leaned back on his hands as he heard Coach call out the most improved times, but he didn't join in the applause. He was too wiped.

"And call time for the bus transport to the meet on Saturday is going to be seven-thirty in the morning," he finished, tucking his clipboard under his arm. "It's a three-hour drive. Any questions? No? Then dismiss."

Edward stood with everyone else, stretched, and started for the locker rooms, but Brown called him back. "Masen."

"Yes, Coach?" Edward turned back to him, and he beckoned him forward. Edward noticed Coach was staring at his skin.

Edward glanced down at his naked chest – his shirt was still in his hand – and grimaced. Carlisle had taken him to have his tats lasered off, but he was still decorated with scars. He pulled his shirt back on.

Now Coach looked up at him, his face grave. "Son, is there anything you want to tell me?"

Edward flinched a little when he called him 'son,' but realized what he was really asking. "Coach, the Cullens aren't… abusing me. These are old, from another foster home." Brown still looked unconvinced, and Edward was worried about this getting back to Carlisle and Esme, about them getting in some sort of trouble. He added, lying a little, "The state already knows about it."

"You're sure?"

Edward nodded, and Brown stared at him for another moment before nodding back. Edward turned and jogged off towards the locker rooms, not wanting to know if Coach was still watching.

When he got to the little rise where the grass ended and the asphalt began, Edward saw a couple of the leadership people, all of them carrying something white and big and lumpy-looking, walking past the pool. He was about to take a swig of his water bottle when someone called, "Edward!"

He turned and saw Bella coming towards him, smiling as she carried an armful of the same stuff the others had. "Hi!"

The Monday morning after her birthday, Edward apologized again for bailing on her party, and she'd waved it off with a smile. While he was glad she wasn't offended, he was also kind of hurt that it didn't seem like a big deal to her. He thought about that as she caught up to him.

"Hey," he grinned. "What's up? And what the hell is that?" he asked, nodding to the mass she was holding.

"We're taking down posters." She shrugged. "We have to get all the freshman class elections stuff down now that Red Ribbon Week is coming up." She smiled up at him again, shading her eyes from the sun with her free hand. "Thanks again for the otter, by the way."

Edward shook his head. "I told you. It's not a big deal."

"It is, though. I mean, you didn't have to do that. And did you know I collect otters?" she asked.

"Yeah?" That explained the picture on her binder.

She nodded. "Yeah, stuffed ones and drawings and posters. It's been a thing since I was about four."

"Hey – I was wondering. Why'd you name it Sammy?"

"Oh." Bella did this weird flip thing with her hair to get it off her shoulder, and Edward smelled her shampoo. It smelled like some kind of flower or something. "I had this babysitter when I was a kid – her name was Samantha. It just reminded me of her."

Edward laughed. "I'm sure every babysitter wants to be remembered by a kid naming a stuffed animal after her."

"Are you making fun of me?" she demanded, and he looked down quickly, but relaxed when he saw her smile.

"Just a little," he admitted. "Hey, let me carry some of those for you." He reached for the posters, but she waved him off.

"No, thanks. The student center and the locker room are in opposite directions." She shifted the lump to her other arm, and Edward noticed her white T-shirt was kind of see-through. He swallowed hard when he realized he could clearly see her bra through the fabric. It wasn't that the bra was a dark color or anything; the outline was just really obvious….

He'd been staring at her chest. He hoped she hadn't noticed, and he quickly looked away.

"Listen, I'll see you, okay?" he muttered, and jogged the rest of the way to the locker room. He didn't want to go there with Bella. She didn't need all the baggage it'd give her.

He smiled wryly. That was stupid. It wasn't like she'd ever agree to date him anyway.

He was distracted by the buzz of his thoughts – most of them about her – as he made his way into the locker room, and it lasted until he was drying my hair in front of his locker. Chris Janssen, Bella's ex and, it turned out, a runnignback on the JV football team, made his way through the other guys and sat himself down on the bench behind me. "So Masen, you and Bella Swan?"

Edward froze for a minute, then reached into his locker and pulled a fresh shirt on without looking at him. "No. Not that it's any of your fucking business."

Janssen laughed behind him. "You sure?"

"I'm sure it's none of your fucking business." Edward finished changing without looking up, knowing he'd got the attention of some of the guys around them. Don't rise….

Now Janssen got up and stood right next to Edward; he had to look him in the face. He smirked at Edward, but there was anger in it. "She's a waste of time," he whispered, like he was sharing a secret. "She doesn't put out."

Edward snapped. He seized Janssen by the collar of his shirt and pushed him up into the bank of lockers, enjoying the fear in his eyes. "What did you say?" he growled. It got real quiet, but Edward didn't care.

Janssen held his hands up and tried to push me off, but I didn't let go. "Get off me, man! I'm just saying–"

"Yeah, I heard you," Edward hissed, feeling the blood pound in his head. "I want to know what the fuck makes you think you have the right–"

"Edward!" Emmett shoved his way through the other guys in the room – and all of them were staring at Edward and Janssen – so he could grab his brother's shoulder. "Don't do it. Let go." He waited, but Edward didn't move. "Now."

Slowly, Edward relaxed his fingers, and Janssen pushed himself away, straightening his shirt and scowling.

"Good," Emmett said behind Edward. "Now get your stuff. We're leaving."

Without taking his eyes off Janssen, Edward did as Emmett said before following him outside. Emmett didn't say anything as they crossed the campus, but moved so quickly Edward almost had a hard time keeping up. He glanced at Emmett's face and could see he was pissed. Edward looked straight ahead as they got to the parking lot.

Rosalie'd already got out of cheerleading practice and was waiting in the passenger's seat of the coupe, windows down and music on. The guys got in without talking, but as soon as the door was shut and he'd turned on the engine, Emmett started.

"What the hell were you thinking, Edward?" he demanded. "Didn't it occur to you that guys get kicked off teams for pulling shit like that?"

Rosalie's eyebrows pulled together as she looked between them. "What'd he do?"

"Started a goddamn fight."

"I didn't start anything!" Edward snapped, staring out the window. It was true; Janssen had come over to talk to him, and it wasn't like anything had actually happened. Unfortunately.

"Yeah, because I pulled you off him."

"Who?" asked Rosalie impatiently.

"Chris Janssen."

"Oh, well, then." She flipped her hair back. "That's all right."

"It is not all right!" Emmett shouted. Edward started; it was the first time he'd ever heard Emmett raise his voice except in fun. "Edward, I'm guessing there's a clause in your contract with the system that says you can't get into any trouble at school or they'll relocate you? And don't you only have a few strikes to go until you're declared a ward of the state?"

"So what?" he retorted. "It's only a matter of time, isn't it, before you all realize I don't belong here and send me back anyway." He was shouting by the end of it, trying to cover his fear with a bitter voice, with anger – anything. He always had to do anything but admit he was scared.

Both Emmett and Rosalie shut up for a second; Emmett looked like he'd been stunned or something. Then Rosalie asked, quietly, "Is that what you think?"

Edward didn't answer.

In the rearview mirror, he saw Emmett open his mouth, close it, and then take a deep breath. "Edward, if that were true, I'd've just let you fight him. God knows he's a douche and he could use it, but I stopped you because I don't want you to get in trouble. Believe it or not, we – all of us – really don't want you relocated."

Edward snorted. "Sure you don't."

Emmett's face reddened. "Are you so used to everybody expecting–"

"Emmett," Rosalie interrupted him. "Leave it. He's going to have to figure it out himself."

Edward turned his head to tell her there was nothing to figure out, because he already knew how this was going to end, but her eyes were on the road in front of her, and he didn't bother.

All three of them were quiet almost the entire rest of the drive, but right before they pulled up in front of her house, Rosalie asked him quietly, "What'd he do?" When she saw his confusion, she explained, "Chris. What'd he do that made you hit him?"

"Oh. He–" Edward glared out the window at the memory. "He asked me if I was going out with Bella, and I said no, and he said just as well, because she doesn't put out."

"Hmm," Rosalie said as she got out.

Edward didn't ask what she thought because he didn't care. And he didn't take her spot in the front seat like he usually did. Emmett didn't say anything else to him, and he didn't say anything else to Emmett, until they got back to the Cullens' house.

Almost before he'd cut the engine, Edward had got out of the car, grabbed his bag, and gone straight to his room and shut the door. He didn't know if Emmett told Carlisle and Esme what had happened, because he didn't come down for the rest of the night. He ignored Esme when she came to get him for dinner, and he didn't shower until everyone else had gone to bed.

Maybe if he just shut down them, they'd get so irritated that they wouldn't wait for him to get in trouble before they sent him back to the system. Make their lives easier.

Edward avoided everyone all weekend by staying out of the house, which wasn't easy when he was still worried about being seen by anyone from the LR. He ran a lot, staying in the rich neighborhoods around where the Cullens lived, where people wouldn't wait two seconds before calling the cops on anyone who looked even a little like a gangbanger. As he pounded past the mini-mansions, Edward wondered if the people who lived in them had even the first damn clue about the wars going on in the underground of their cities. If they even cared.

When he got back to the Cullens' house, Carlisle was in the kitchen making lunch as Esme sat at the breakfast counter, flipping through a catalog. Carlisle looked up when he entered. "Edward, someone called for you."

Edward froze, trying not to panic. They wouldn't call the house, would they? They wouldn't be that obvious around white people who could make trouble for them. "Who?" he asked, not breathing.

Esme took the cordless phone and slid it towards Edward along the counter. "Diane, your caseworker. She asked that you call her back as soon as possible, okay?"

Edward breathed out slowly. "Okay." He took the phone and turned to leave the kitchen.

"And when you finish, come back down, all right?" Carlisle called after him. "Lunch is almost ready."

"Right – yeah–"

"Edward." He turned around, and Carlisle was looking at him in concern. "Is anything wrong?"

I should tell him. It was, after all, his family, his wife, in danger because of Edward. And Edward didn't know if he was safe in this house anyway.

The phone in his hand felt heavy. If he told Carlisle, Carlisle would take it back from him, call the caseworker himself, and have Edward relocated. Edward didn't want that.

"No," he heard himself say. "I'm fine."

Carlisle nodded slowly. "If you're sure."

"I am," Edward nodded, feeling the lie in his mouth. "Thanks." And he turned around and went upstairs.

After he'd showered, he called the caseworker, replying to all her questions with monosyllabic answers, telling her the Cullens were treating him good, not hurting him. She sounded happy – it was the first time he'd really given a good response to those kinds of questions before. He could tell Diane thought he was changing for the better. Just the opposite, he thought. He was just more scared to admit how much he was still the same.

On Monday morning, because he'd had to double back to grab an extra pair of socks for that afternoon's practice, Edward was late getting out of the house and so stepped onto campus right as the five minute warning bell for first period rang. He cussed and started running, booking it across campus to the science building. They had a lab in chem, and he didn't feel like getting a referral from Miss Somerset or taking shit from Bella.

But when he pulled open the door to the chem room – thirty seconds before the late bell rang – and looked at his lab table, he paused. Bella wasn't there.

He hurried to his seat, staring around so he could check she wasn't talking to anyone else or something. She always got to chem before he did – the two times she hadn't, they'd walked in together. Edward didn't see her, so he got the attention of someone who he knew had zero period leadership. Name, name, name – "Pauline," he remembered, and she turned around.

"Yeah?"

"Bella get held up or something?"

She shook her head. "She actually didn't show up at all to zero. Which is weird, 'cause she's like, always there. Whittier was actually kind of pissed."

"I bet," Edward muttered before heading back to his desk. Bella not showing up… and on a lab day. It figures, he thought, as he unpacked his stuff and put his name on the lab report on the table and Miss Somerset began reading off the lab instructions. Just as soon as he started to trust Bella, she screws him over. She knew one person couldn't do this lab alone.

He remembered her stuck-up comments about his schedule on the first day of school. She'd given up on him. Like everyone else–

Miss Somerset broke off as the door at the back of the room opened. Edward turned around on instinct and sat up as he watched Bella walk in. The teacher picked up the instructions where she'd left off as Bella, her head lowered, scurried to the front of the room and handed her a little piece of paper. It was pale orange, the color of unexcused tardy slips.

Her head was still down when she took her seat next to me. I was gonna ignore her for being late, but I noticed something. Her eyes were red. So either she got high this morning and forgot to Visine, or she'd been crying. And Edward didn't smell any pot.

"Bella?" he asked as people started to get up and begin the lab all around them. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, not looking at him, and reached for a test tube rack. "Let's get started."

He tried to catch her eye for another second, but she kept labeling chemicals on her lab notebook. Edward shrugged and got up, taking the graduated cylinder to fill it from the beaker of silver nitrate Miss Somerset put at the front of the room.

Pretty much the entire lab passed like that, with neither of us talking except to read out observations of the test tubes or measurements of volumes or shit like that. At first, it seemed like she was okay now. But slowly, Edward recognized stuff he'd seen in girls in Tucson. How, instead of owning up to how something was bothering them, they'd grit their teeth and get all apathetic. Anything other than showing emotion.

Bella was doing that now.

They finished the lab early, and after he'd handed them in and walked back to the table, Edward could see Bella squeezing her eyes shut, like she was trying to hold something in. he hesitated for a second, then went back to the front desk. "Miss Somerset?"

"Edward?" The teacher glanced up at him from where she'd been grading something from another class.

"Uh," he started, thinking fast. "Since we're done with the lab, can I go get something for my next class? I forgot it."

She glanced down at his lab report where it sat on her desk before shrugging. "Sure. Go ahead."

"Well, it's kind of in Bella's car," he told her, trying to come up with something that sounded real. "It's my physio book. I was worried I'd lose it, so I asked her to hang onto it for me."

"So she needs to go with you?" Miss Somerset asked him, looking over his shoulder at Bella. He saw her eyes narrow.

"Yeah."

Miss Somerset looked back at Edward, assessing him. "Okay, Edward," she said, sounding suddenly less businesslike than she had before. "Go ahead."

"Thanks." He turned around and headed back to his and Bella's table, scooping up his backpack when he got there. He looked at Bella, who was watching him, confused. "C'mon."

"Where?" she asked, suspicious.

He snorted. "Like it's worth the effort to get you in trouble on purpose. I'm springing you. Let's go."

She glanced nervously at Miss Somerset, but eventually did like he told her. She picked up her books and slid the strap of her bag over her shoulder, and Edward led her outside, keeping a hand on her elbow. He didn't know why he did that. It just seemed kind of safer that way.

But as soon as they were around the corner from Miss Somerset's classroom, Bella tore her arm from Edward's hand and strode away from him, wrapping her arms around herself as she hurried away. Her shoulders hunched and she ducked her head again.

A month ago, if something like this happened to him, he'd have shrugged and walked away. She'd dismissed him, after all. What did he care?

But now, Edward remembered how it'd felt when, even after he tried to get him to leave me the hell alone, Emmett still kept trying to talk to him. Like he actually gave a damn.

Edward jogged to catch up to Bella. "Hey!"

"What?" she snapped, trying to hide the way she was scrubbing at her eyes.

Shit, he really hated it when girls cried. But he kept talking anyway. "Bella, c'mon. What's going on?"

"Nothing, okay?" Now she was staring straight ahead, walking way faster than he'd think someone that short could. "Thanks for getting me out of class and everything, but can you just leave me alone now?"

The temper set Edward back a little, because he'd never seen her mad, ever, but he didn't think she was really pissed. "Yeah? So you can what, go cry in your car?" They were in the parking lot now, and automatically Edward looked around to check for security guards before remembering nobody'd bust Miss Perfect.

Now she turned to glare at him. If it was supposed to be intimidating, it didn't work. "Not that it's any of your business, but I thought I'd just settle myself for a few minutes until the bell rang, and then go to second period."

"Looks like it'll take more than a few minutes to get you settled," he told her. She tried to sneer before turning on her heel and walking off in the direction of her car. Again – God knows why – he followed her. "Bella, just take two seconds and tell me what's wrong."

"No."

"Why not?" he demanded. "I'm risking truancy for you right now. You could at least tell me what for."

"I'm sorry! God! Just go back to class if it bothers you that much."

They'd reached her car, and as she dug for her keys in her bag, he leaned against the driver's side door and folded his arms. "Now I gotta stay just to irritate you."

"Edward, it's nothing." She slammed her books onto the roof of the car and tried to shove him away from the door without looking at him. "I… I'm PMS'ing." There was victory in her voice, like she was sure that'd get him to back off.

Edward just looked at her.

She sighed, frustrated. "Why does it matter?"

He thought about that for a minute. It actually shouldn't matter. He shouldn't care why she was upset – he had enough to deal with already. And anyway, she'd made it clear he wasn't important to her.

So why did it matter?

"I don't know," he replied, but kept looking at her, waiting for her answer.

She glanced up at him quickly before turning and staring across the lot. She lifted a hand to brush her hair out of her face, and he noticed a bracelet he'd never seen on her wrist. Little black crystals set in an elastic chain glinted in the sunlight through the smog. She didn't speak, and his eyes narrowed. He shifted. What the hell was he thinking, trying to force her to talk to him? This was how guys like him got in trouble – they harassed white girls.

He'd pretty much decided to go back to class before shit happened when she started talking.

"Today…" she started, and took a deep breath. "Five years ago today, my dad died."

"Oh shit." He dropped his arms, inhaling sharply. "Bella, I'm sorry."

She swallowed hard, but shook her head. When she talked, her voice was quieter, and he could hear now that she was trying so hard to hold it together. "He was a cop. It was a car chase, they were going after some guy who'd robbed a convenience store or something. When the guy ran out of gas, he ditched the car and ran. Dad and his partner started to chase him on foot. He had a gun."

He opened his mouth, to say what he didn't know, but she was still talking quietly, almost like he wasn't there. "I came down the hall this morning, and I'd already been crying a little, right? And my mother," her face twisted a little, "was just coming in the front door, doing her damn walk of shame, and–" She inhaled sharply, squeezing her eyes shut and clapping a hand to her mouth. He stood up straight, watching her, barely breathing.

"She didn't know," Bella whispered. She didn't move her hand, so it was almost hard to hear. "She forgot. And when I told her, she said I should… get over it. That I should move on with my life. That there wasn't any point in remembering him, because he's never coming back."

He was quiet. Her head ducked down, and he saw a tear escape from under her eyelid.

He didn't want to see her cry, and it wasn't just because he didn't like it when girls cried. Someone… like her shouldn't have to cry.

Slowly, not really knowing why he was doing it, he reached a hand out and touched her wrist. Aside from this morning, it was the first time he'd touched her since he'd walked into her the first day of school.

At once her face changed; her eyes snapped cold and she took a step back. "Look, stop pretending like you care, okay? It'll be easier for both of us that way."

He stopped breathing.

She stood up, stretched her arms over her fake yellow hair, and sauntered across the room.

At the door, she paused and looked back at him, smiling. "You're not gonna tell anyone about this, right, Tony? It'll be easier for both of us that way."

He shook the memory off and glared at Bella. "Like hell."

"Edward–"

"I can't pretend I didn't hear what you told me," he told her, taking a step forward. She didn't back away, but looked at him like she was nervous as he said, "And I'm not pretending like I care." He held his breath another second, then just said it. "You're not the only person who's ever been hurt, Bella."

She stared at him, studying his face, looking right in his eyes, and he didn't blink, even when what he said caught up with him. He thought he saw her face crumple, but then she stepped forward, stepped to him, and he put his arms around her, feeling her breathe as she started to sob into his chest.

He let her cry, even as he felt the front of his shirt getting wet. He just rubbed her back, trying to stop her shuddering. It felt… nice, he realized, to be making someone else feel better.

A couple minutes later, she took a deep breath and straightened up. He lowered his arms as she smiled shyly. "Sorry." Her eyes were still red.

"Don't apologize." He shrugged, already seeing she was going to play down whatever it was that just happened. "It's your right."

"Yeah, but…" she trailed off, running a hand through her hair. "You shouldn't've had to see that."

He almost laughed. "If you think that's the worst I ever seen, you don't know me," he muttered, hearing the truth in his words more than she probably did. She didn't know him.

And that was better.

She tilted her head to the side a little, but didn't ask. Instead, she nodded and picked up her books again.

"You going to class?" he asked, more disappointed than surprised. He'd wanted her to maybe ask me to give her a ride home or something – so he'd know she was really okay.

Bella shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, it looks bad if I skip."

He nodded, feeling the polite, formal distance grow between them again. Better, he reminded himself. But something'd changed in the last five minutes, and it scared the hell out of him. Still, for some reason, he couldn't stop himself from making one last offer. "Are you sure? Because–"

She cut him off. "I'm fine," she smiled. It almost looked real. "Thanks, though."

The bell rang, and she turned to head back to campus. All he could do was follow her.

This chapter is probably my favorite thing I've ever written. Please review for me?