Hey everyone!! Hope you're all still interested in reading my story...
And, as promised:
Thanks to these reviewers: chrissyhale, Rommy, allyg1990, Screams-At-Midnight, Vampires-Rock4eva.
And thanks for the answers to the 'Why do you hate Mike?' question last chapter from: Screams-At-Midnight, Vampires-Rock4eva and Rommy.
Chapter Five: Party
I started rolling down my window, but some cold air gushed in through the gap and made me shiver. I realised I was going to make the car cold again, so I wound it back up and pushed open the door. I tightened my coat around myself as I leaned against Alice's Porsche.
"What is it, Jacob?" I looked up at his sneering face and smiled sarcastically back. "This had better be important, it's cold out here and it's not cold in the cabin – where I don't have to listen to you speak."
I knew I was being completely harsh, but Jacob Black was second in command to Jasper in their little gang. He wasn't as nasty to me as Jasper was to Alice, but he still took pleasure in irritating me half to death.
"I was just thinking, Swan, that maybe you and your little friend-" he looked to the right, where Alice was walking brusquely back to her car, her eyes fixed on Jacob, "should get out more. So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come to this party me and Whitlock are throwing."
Why, why do guys always call everyone by their last names?
He held out a piece of paper to me, and when I didn't take it he waved it a little more forcefully. I rolled my eyes and snatched the invite from him. I turned and grabbed the handle of the door so I could get back in, assuming he was finished with our conversation. When he put a hand on the door, holding it closed, I shut my eyes in frustrated annoyance. I held my tongue as I turned back to him.
"Is there something else?"
He was obviously trying to be sexy or something because he leaned into me, trying to sandwich me between his body and the car. "I'd really like it if you came, Swan."
I turned my head to the side and tried not to convulse.
"We'll think about it, Jake, and if," I emphasised the 'if' with great force, "if we decide to come, I'll be bringing my boyfriend and Alice will be bringing Emmett." I put my hands on his chest and shoved him away from me, pulling open the door of the car before he could close it again.
Alice was sitting in the seat beside me once I'd pulled the door closed. Unbelievably, Jacob tapped the window again. I wound it down no more than half a foot, warning him with a look to re-think whatever it was he was about to say.
"I love it when you call me Jake."
I looked at him like he was completely crazy and pushed the button to wind the window up again, flashing him a sarcastic tight lipped smile. As soon as the window was closed, Alice burst out laughing.
"What was that about?"
I held out the piece of paper to her, seething at that stupid boy's nerves.
Alice raised her eyebrows as she scanned over the piece of paper. "Well, this means only one thing," she said, looking at me with an unreadable expression on her face.
"What?" I asked, knowing she wanted to be asked before she revealed her big secret.
"Shopping!"
"Are you kidding?" I asked, dumbstruck as to why she could possibly want to go to this stupid party.
"Bella, Bella, Bella," she said, clucking her tongue and putting the car into gear as we reversed out. "There are many reasons why we should go to this party. First, though they may be jerks, we have been invited to a party and it's rude not to go. Second, we've both got bodyguards for protection if they try anything smart with us. Third, there are always plenty of out-of-town boys at these parties, and I believe I could use a random pash-session to up my confidence."
I rolled my eyes. When was Alice's confidence not 'up'?
"And fourth," she continued, momentum unbroken, "if you'd bothered to read the invite, you would know that this is a masquerade ball." She looked at me with a devilish smile across the seats and a twinkle in her eye. "Any excuse to go shopping is good enough for me!"
I laughed at her excitement, and reasoned with myself. Though this party may be thrown by some of the most shudder-worthy guys the school had to offer, there was no rule saying we had to actually speak to them. And if we timed our arrivals well, we could probably spend the night carefree because they would be passed out on the couch.
Alice continued to chat the whole way home about things ranging from the classes we'd had today to Rosalie's blow up at Jasper during lunch, to how she would love to re-design the school's gym clothes and then to possible shopping dates for the stuff we were going to need.
Once she'd pulled up outside the Swan residence, I reached behind my seat to get my bag. Alice grabbed the invite and was looking over it again when I turned back.
"Six weeks," she said, obviously telling me how long we had to find our costumes. "How does the weekend after next sound to head down to Seattle? I'm busy with Ange this weekend."
I thought for a moment, scanning my mental calendar for important dates. "I think that's the weekend of this athletic thing."
Alice huffed and started thinking again. A moment later she said, "The weekend after that then?"
Feeling sure that there wasn't anything important on then, I nodded my head. "Sounds good."
"Wicked." She started fiddling with the heating controls and turned them down a little. "See you tomorrow!"
I pushed open the door and leaned down to say "Goodbye" before I shut it and headed up the path to the house. The cruiser wasn't in the driveway, so Charlie wasn't home yet.
Alice's Porsche sped away into the darkness, the red taillights disappearing around the corner. I reached for the key skilfully hidden under a pot plant outside the door and dropped my bag once I was inside. Glad that the house had managed to maintain some of its heat throughout the cold day, I flicked on the light switch and headed for the kitchen.
Doubling back as I remembered Charlie's looming arrival, I flicked the other light switch so he wouldn't break his neck climbing the porch steps when he got home.
I hung my jacket on a chair and unwound my scarf as I headed for the fridge. Staring mindlessly for a moment at the perishable items, I seized a tray of chicken and some other random ingredients, visualising a pasta-chicken combo for dinner.
Humming a random tune to myself as I worked, I sliced the chicken into edible chunks and threw them into the frying pan. Once they'd cooked enough, I started throwing in butter and other ingredients. I flicked the kettle on and pulled a saucepan out of a drawer, then dug for some pasta in the pantry and cut open the corner of a new bag of Rotelle. I crunched on an uncooked piece as I waited for the water to boil. When it was ready, I added a little salt and threw in some wagon wheel shaped pasta.
Charlie may have been a big eater, but there was no way he – or even the two of us – would have been able to polish off the whole bag.
Still humming, I leaned back against the table and chewed another piece of uncooked Rotelle while I waited for everything to pull together.
As I chewed, I saw my bag sitting by the door. I knew this was going to be a health hazard for when Charlie came barrelling around the corner at the prospect of dinner being cooked once he was through the door, so I checked the food to ensure I had enough time to spare a dash to my bedroom before grabbing my scarf, jacket and bag and heading for the stairs.
I should have known better than to hold my shoulder bag in front of me with one hand, because I'd barely touched down on the first step before my foot got caught and I started to see the step coming too close to my face. I avoided a broken nose but had to throw my coat and scarf in the process of breaking my fall, and they were both sitting a few steps up from where I'd landed.
Pushing back off the carpeted stairs and tugging at the bottom of my shirt to straighten myself a little, I slung my bag over my shoulder where it belonged before I ascended a few stairs to snatch up my lost clothing items.
Just then, I heard Charlie pull up in his cruiser. Remembering that dinner was on the stove and Charlie never liked to see a dinner unmanned, I rushed the remaining stairs, only falling once more in my haste.
I quickly threw my school things on the bed then rushed back down the stairs. The door was just swinging open, and Charlie was just calling his hello when I saw Edward's letter sitting on the bottom stair between Charlie and I.
Normally, I wouldn't care a bit that Charlie were about to see a letter from my pen pal – it was for school, after all – but in this situation it was a bit different. The major issue was that this was a boy who I was writing to. That would never fair well with the Chief.
Almost breaking my neck in the haste to get to the letter before Charlie saw it; I skipped four stairs and succeeded in not breaking anything while I scooped it up and stuffed it into the back pocket of my jeans. The stupid wads of paper, however, didn't like being forced into a confined space and strained against the material on my backside, poking me sharply in the butt with a corner of the envelope.
"I'm home, Bella," Charlie called unnecessarily loudly from the door, obviously assuming I was in my room or the kitchen or something. He had his head down and was unlatching the side of his gun belt in preparation of hanging it up.
The thought of the kitchen reminded me of dinner, so I skipped forward and rounded the corner to the kitchen and got to my place in front of the stove just before Charlie walked through the doorway.
"Hey, Dad," I said over my shoulder, grabbing a spoon and stirring the pasta like I'd been there the whole time.
"What's cookin'?" he said, coming over and leaned over the dishes with a hungry but happy expression on his face.
I suddenly froze as I realised something. The letter was in my back pocket.
Trying to be subtle as I reached my hand back and tried to tug my t-shirt over the back of my pants, I replied "Chicken and pasta," as cheerfully as I could. Luckily for me, my voice didn't crack.
Unluckily for me, however, Charlie slapped his hands together in excitement just like Coach Clapp had done earlier that afternoon, and I jumped, accidentally knocking the letter out of my pocket.
"I'll grab some plates, then," he said, crossing behind me to the cupboard. I cringed and waited for him to discover my dirty little secret, but the next words out of his mouth were, "Do you want the ones with a high edge or the usual flat ones?" followed by the sound of one of the cupboard doors squeaking open.
My eyes shot open and I whipped around to see Charlie's back to me, his arms reaching up to grab whichever plates I was about to request.
"Bella?" he prompted, half turning his head over his shoulder. He didn't get very far because of the obstacle his raised arms presented, so I nearly smacked myself in the nose with the saucepan handle as I ducked and clawed the letter from the floor.
"The ones with the edges, thanks Dad," I said, breathing a silent sigh of relief as I stuffed the letter forcefully back into my pocket.
"'Kay," he said, and the plates clattered quietly as he pulled the required two from the bottom of the stack. "Here you go," he said, putting them on the counter beside me. He leaned over the food again and asked, "How long do you reckon it's got to go?"
I smiled because I could tell he was itching to check if there were any games playing on the television, so I replied with a guess of about ten minutes. He smiled and nodded as he left the room and headed for the lounge. A moment later I heard the rustle as he settled into the couch, then the buzz of male commentary from the television about how fine the weather conditions were for a game of something-rather.
Knowing that Charlie wouldn't be getting up for any leisurely reason in the next ten minutes, I was out of the room in a flash as soon as the noise from the telly reached my ears. I took the stairs two at a time, trying to be quiet, and managed to get to the top unscathed. I carefully pushed open my door a foot or so, knowing it would squeak with any extra distance, and flung the letter from my pocket into the dark room.
Trying to maintain my level of quiet, I twisted my body slightly to the side as I bounced off each step respectively. I may have avoided twisting or breaking something in my last four-stair leap, but I wasn't stupid enough to think I could do it twice in a row and come out injury-free both times.
Back in the kitchen everything was working just as I'd left it; nothing bubbling over the edge of the saucepan and nothing spitting or sizzling as it burnt to the bottom of the pan.
Knowing I was out of the danger zone – at least the one involving Edward's letter – I kept an eye on the food then called Charlie when it was ready.
I was putting the things I'd used to cook into the sink when I heard Charlie's chair drag back across the floor and the quiet creak of the hinges as he settled down.
"Smells good," he commented as I turned with the plates in either hand.
I smiled at him as I sat down on the opposite side of the table. "Then I hope it tastes just as good."
We ate in silence while each of us ploughed through the first half of our meal, then Charlie cleared his throat in the way he usually does when he's about to say something. I looked up from my pasta expectantly, still chewing a mouthful of food.
He cleared his throat again and dabbed the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief he'd produced from his pocket before he spoke. "So you and this Newton kid, you've been together for a while," he began, and I nodded slowly when he looked at me for confirmation. I swallowed my puree of pasta and popped a square of chicken in my mouth. "And I was thinking," Charlie went on, "that maybe it would be nice if we had Mike and his parents around for dinner this weekend. What do you think?"
I'd unintentionally stopped chewing when I heard the word 'parents' in his proposal. I quickly mashed the food before swallowing and gulping some water to dislodge the lump in my throat before I answered.
"That would be really cool, Dad, I'm glad you want to meet them."
And I was glad – Charlie making an effort to get to know Mike more meant he approved of me having a boyfriend, at least, this boyfriend. I hadn't forgotten the warning look received when Charlie had first laid eyes on Emmett Brandon. (Not that we'd ever dated, but Charlie still thought there was something going on when Emmett had had to drive Alice and I around. He'd dropped his suspicions when he'd learned of Alice's aversion to any friend getting more than friendly with her brother.)
Charlie chucked as he responded. "Technically, I won't be meeting them; I've known them for years. This would just be more formal," he pointed out, digging his fork into his pasta again. Once he'd downed another mouthful, he looked up at me and asked through half a bite of chicken if this weekend was okay.
I answered with a nod, not wanting to look as silly as he did trying to talk with a mouth full of mushy food.
We continued the rest of the meal in silence, Charlie happy that he'd gotten around to inviting my boyfriend and his parents over for dinner and me feeling even happier about it.
Everything in my life had pulled together beautifully.
Oooooooh!! What happens next? Well, I think you all have theories and you all want to tell me them!! Go ahead and... review!
-Shaps