I froze. I couldn't breathe. No.
Edward blinked and looked at me, for an explanation. I didn't have one.
"Bella won Edward."
My heart stopped in my chest. Maybe Rosalie wouldn't say anymore. Maybe she would take pity on me just this one time. Please, please—
"You see, everyone." Rosalie turned to face the audience and began pacing the length of the stage. "Bella and I made a bet."
"What's she talking about?" Edward asked me. I couldn't reply. I had forgotten how to speak.
"We made a bet two weeks ago that I would be able to get Edward Cullen to take me to the Masquerade Ball."
Edward was staring at me, but I didn't have the guts to look at him. I didn't have the guts to do anything but just stand there.
"If I won," Rosalie went on, with the school's attention. She had them mesmerized. "Then Bella would have to run around the school in a chicken suit. If she won, and Edward Cullen chose her, then I would run around the school in a chicken suit."
"Rosalie," I managed to whisper, the lowest my voice could go. "Stop."
She spun to face me. "Stop what? All I'm trying to do is save Edward from getting his heart broken. We don't want that. Do we, Bella? I don't. But do you?"
"That's not the story—" I started, but was interrupted by Edward.
"This is for a bet?"
Tears were pricking from behind my eyes, but I pushed them back. "No, Edward. I made the bet, yes, but this isn't—"
"I liked you, Bella," he said. I flinched at the word liked.
"I like you, Edward," I said. "I do. Edward, I really really do. Rosalie is twisting everything around. The bet is what gave me the nerve to talk to you, and to—"
He shook his head, and my tears were coming closer to spilling now. "What was going to happen after this, Bella? What happens after you win the bet?"
"Edward—" Alice was shoving through the crowd that had gathered in front of the stage, towards us. "Stop. Let's go some place else—"
"Don't tell me what to do," he snapped before turning back to me. It was too late. I was crying. The tears were coming out, rolling over my cheeks, surely ruining my makeup and I furiously wiped them away with the back of my hand.
"This isn't for the bet," I said. "This is for me. For us. Just, please, listen—"
"Listen to what? The lies? Do you know how used I feel?" Edward was almost yelling at me now, and, to tell you the truth, I didn't blame him. I had made a horrible, horrible bet. This was all my fault. "Bella, I thought I could trust you. I thought—"
"But you can!" I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him enough for him to realize Rosalie was the evil one, not me. I wanted to make him understand. I wanted him to hold me again, like he had when we were dancing. I wanted to stay dancing with him, in that moment forever and ever—in that perfect, flawless moment.
"How can I believe you?" he questioned, and it sounded like the whole gymnasium was holding their breath, expecting an answer, expecting an answer that would make up for everything and make it okay.
I didn't have that answer.
"Believe me," I said, reaching out to touch his arm lightly, as if by doing this I could reassure him. I swiped away more tears with the hand that wasn't touching him. "Just believe me."
For a few seconds he stared at my hand. And for those few seconds I thought that I had reassured him, and everything was going to be okay, and tomorrow this would be history; history that didn't matter; history that didn't affect us anymore.
Those thoughts did nothing but raise my hopes unfairly, because he jerked away and said, "I did. And look where we are now."
And then, I could only see him faintly, my eyes were blurring from my tears, but he was walking off the stage and through the still crowd, and out the door, which swung shut with a bang behind him.
I stood up there, paralyzed, terrified of falling apart completely, my vision blurry, until Alice walked up and took my arm gently, pulling me off the stage, away from Rosalie Bitch Hale, and everything else.