Hello everyone! Oh my goodness, let me just say: WOW. You guys are incredible! 68 reviews, 59 alerts... And thanks so much to Child-Of-God13 and Intoxicated By His Presence, you guys are wickedly awesome and other trippin' words! I love you for adding my story to your communities!!
This is going to be quite a long author's note: so skip all the boldness if you just want to read about the dinner. Sorry! But I got so many reviews and stuff- speaking of which:
And the reviewers (who I adore!) were:
prettygirlnboyfriend07, Rommy, AlwaysBettingOnAlice, AlwaysAround888, Intoxicated By His Presence, chrissyhale, smile for the paparazzi, Child-Of-God13, Lupus, Princess-Tinkerbelle, MusicADD, beggingtobebitten, x-aly-x, xx Phyre xx, Vampires-Rock4eva, bedwardforever, Lianna Weschester, Jade.
Special mentions/questions:
prettygirlnboyfriend07 – you made me laugh with your review! Loved it! Thanks so much, keep it up :-)
Rommy – you did a very good job there Rom, your review was especially lengthy! Loved it!!
AlwaysAround88 – this story will be about 28 chapters, perhaps 29 because one of them is quite long. I'll add something special at the end of this author's note, just for you…
Intoxicated By His Presence – oh my gosh, I laughed so much when I read all your reviews! Hamburgers are yumm, by the way, I agree. Loved your reasons for hating Mike over Edward!
chrissyhale – there shall be more Cullen, I promise, very soon!
smile for the paparazzi – I'll try and make letters more frequent now :-)
Child-Of-God13 – nope, Mike and Bella haven't had sex.
Lupus – yes, sorry, I meant to write monocle. Must have been off in the clouds that day :-)
Princess-Tinkerbelle – lol. Your review made me laugh. Love your style!
Music ADD – yes, she's very adamant about impressing the Newton oldies. Lots of work to make the house sparkling!
beggingtobebitten – here's the next chapter! Don't hunt me down!!
Lianna Weschester – don't stress! Mike&Bella will be no more soon enough.
My Pen Pal chapter titles:
1. Crowd
2. Letters
3. Cafeteria
4. Reply
5. Party
6. Geeks
7. Control Freak
8. Dinner
9. Recovery
10. Forward and Backward
11. Twenty Questions
12. Carnival
13. New and Old
14. Masks
15. China Doll
16. Smile
17. Stranded
18. Second Chances
19. A Soul
20. P.P.M.P
21. Invited
22. Slumber Party
23. Caught
24. Morning After
25. Memory
26. Masquerade
27. Plans
28. Kidnapped
29. The End
Make of them what you will!
Oh, and note to everyone: if you hated Mike before, you're about to hate him more. If you didn't, prepare to enter the deliciously evil world of Mike-Haters.
Chapter Eight: Dinner
I was doing my best not to panic. Really, I was. There wasn't even anything to really be panicking about, but my panic-ridden mind wasn't listening. Nor were my feet, which were pacing back and forth across the kitchen like they were trying to make a hole in the floor.
Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, mindlessly humming and occasionally getting up to sniff happily at the food cooking on the stove. I'd resisted the urge to drag him upstairs and force him to put on something a little dressier than the chequered shirt and jeans he was currently sporting, but I knew that would reveal my serious stress over the whole ordeal.
Plus, if Charlie was in nice clothes I'd have another part of my mind worrying about him getting a stain on them.
I straightened my shirt, again – as much as a bubble-top could be straightened – and was worrying about what could and probably would go wrong when Charlie cleared his throat in a distracting kind of way.
I had started going through the scenario where everyone choked on their food and died when the doorbell saved me from myself.
"I got it!" I said a little breathlessly as I changed direction and headed for the door.
I pulled it open to reveal Mike, flanked on either side by his parents.
"Hello!" I said as happily as I could muster without sounding hysterical.
"Hey, Bella," Mike said, a little abashed. He kept looking away from my face and I wondered if I'd smudged some of the mascara Alice had layered on my lashes.
"Good evening, Mr and Mrs Newton," I said over his shoulder to his parents. "Come on it, it must be getting cold out there."
"Thankyou, Isabella," Mr Newton said politely. I bit my tongue at the urge to correct him.
Mike came through first, and was wearing a neat maroon button down shirt with a pair of black pants and a black leather belt. He'd done his hair differently tonight; the usual spikes had been smoothed into a carefully casual mess. It looked nice, but didn't quite suite him. I smiled anyway and stepped out the way so he and his parents could come inside.
Next to follow Mike was his mother, looking manicured and made-up as usual. I noted that she was wearing an expensive looking dress-suit with a large chain around her neck and an even larger pendant swinging back and forth as she walked. Her black shoes had heels on them that looked dangerous. I hoped that Charlie wouldn't ask her about whether she knew the legal regulations on the length of stiletto heels during dinner.
Mr Newton followed her in and I closed the door behind him. He was dressed similarly to Mike, but had navy blue pants, a black shirt and a white tie which hadn't been done properly. The thinner part was longer than the thicker part and I almost informed him of it, but held my tongue just in time. He was also wearing a jacket and I had enough sense to offer to take it for him, to which he politely obliged.
Mike waited behind as they filed into the lounge after Charlie, who'd conveniently appeared at the right moment, then he followed after me into the kitchen once Charlie's chatter was audible and we had excused ourselves. Luckily Charlie didn't think parental supervision was necessary and he stayed planted in his favourite arm chair.
"Whew," I said quietly once we were in the confines of the kitchen. I dramatically wiped sweat away from my forehead and leant on a chair for support. Mike laughed at my theatrics.
"I know what you mean. You should have heard mum this afternoon, trying to work out what to wear." He shook his head, completely baffled. "I told her to wear whatever and I thought my eardrums had died from the noise she made." He smiled and shrugged away from the counter to hug me hello. "You look lovely, by the way," he added in my ear.
"Thanks," I pulled back and started checking each aspect of dinner. "I got a makeover this afternoon, you might have noticed," I gave him a sly look over my shoulder.
"Alice?"
"The one and only." Satisfied that nothing was burning, I turned to the oven and started nervously fiddling with dials. "So, you like it?" I asked, wanting to know if he approved of the outfit, hair, make-up…
"You always look great, Bella."
I smiled at him appreciatively, but his answer wasn't really the one I was looking for. I pushed the disappointment away and changed the subject.
"How was your day, other than the part where you turned your mother into a screaming banshee?"
"Pretty boring. I got some English done, but then I got bored of it and spent most of my day outside. Oh, and I worked this morning too. There were some crazy people looking to go camping for the weekend and they were asking where they could plug in their hairdryers."
I laughed and stirred something on the stove. "Any idea who they were?"
"Nah," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting himself down. "But I think they must have been from La Push or Port Angeles because a few were Indian lookers and a few weren't."
"I wish I'd seen that."
"Well, you might, if you'd agree to come and work with me." I turned to see him shoot me a cheesy closed-eye smile and I had to grin at his silliness.
"I'm a couch potato on the weekends, Mr Newton, and I don't plan on changing that status any time soon."
"Alright, alright, but I'll change your mind soon enough."
"Whatever you reckon!"
I looked around the kitchen and checked the progress of the pudding before I announced to Mike that we were going to be serving drinks and biscuits as appetisers.
"Cool," he said, moving to my side to carry anything I handed to him.
I dug around in the cupboards to find a platter or big plate suitable for the task, and discovered one after some searching. I tipped the boxes of crackers onto it then ordered Mike to line them up ("but wash your hands first!") while I unwrapped the cheeses.
He did as he was told and I plonked down a few pieces of cheese in the vacant areas a moment later. I found glasses and filled a jug with the first thing my hand found in the fridge before grandly carrying the lot into the lounge.
Mike followed me with the glasses balanced in one hand and the jug of lemonade balanced in the other. Charlie announced that lemonade wasn't appropriate for fourty-something year olds ("except you, of course Jenny; you're thirty-one, thirty-two now?). I internally gagged at my dad's attempts at flattery; then gagged on double time when Mrs Newton replied with a giggle that would have done Minnie Mouse proud.
"I'll grab some red from the cellar, eh Bells?" Charlie winked at me as he heaved himself from the couch and header for our 'cellar' – also known as the cupboard beside the dryer in the laundry.
Mike volunteered to help Charlie with what I knew would end up being more than one bottle of alcoholic beverage.
I headed back to keep an eye on the food with a quiet apology to the Newton's. I had been standing by the stove staring mindlessly into the food cooking in the bubbling water for a few minutes when I suddenly realised I'd given the Newton's nothing to cut the cheese with. I whipped open the utensils drawer and pulled out a cheese knife (thanks to Renee and her clueless nature as to what to get Charlie for Christmas when they first married), then proceeded in the direction of the lounge.
I heard them talking, and was anxious to hear what they thought of me, so I made the mistake of standing out of sight by the door and listening to them.
"…lovely man. He certainly knows how to charm a woman, Arthur, you could take a leaf out of his book sometimes."
"Come on Jen, you know you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I'd not have married you otherwise!"
Mrs Newton 'tsk'd at his attempt at sucking up. "Well, if it's true that a man is meant to marry the most beautiful woman he ever lays eyes on, then it's a sure thing that Bella and Mike won't be together much longer."
I gasped, but listened more intently, frozen in place by an array of emotions.
"Oh, Jenny, come on, she's not that bad."
"No, she is pretty in her own way-" I should have walked away at this point, my thoughts had slightly improved on the Newton's, but I didn't "-but she's nothing compared with little Jessica Stanley. Now that girl was gorgeous. Don't know why it didn't work out between her and Mike. I'd already pictured her in her wedding dress with that lovely Lauren Mallory as her bridesmaid…"
Mrs Newton's voice became a hum in the background as I remembered the short affair between Mike and Jessica.
It was before Mike and I had even considered dating, when I'd first come to Forks. Mike was sitting atop his throne of popularity, and girls just like Jessica were constantly throwing themselves at his feet. He had the pick of them, and chose Jess. It didn't last long though, there had been some problem with their 'spark' or something, Mike had supposedly told her that he didn't feel anything for her anymore and that he wanted to remain friends.
A week later, however, he'd renounced his hold on the popularity circle, throwing everyone else into social disarray (hence how Jessica, Lauren, Victoria and Tanya had ended up in the clutches of idiots like James, Jasper and Jacob) and he'd started being friends with my people – for reasons that were now blatantly obvious.
Mrs Newton's voice drilled back into my mind as my thoughts thinned. "…I just want to know what he sees in a girl like Isabella."
I hadn't realised there were tears prickling in my eyes until I tried to blink to regain my focus and one of them slipped free. I hastily wiped it away and stepped around the corner into the lounge when I heard the sound of someone rustling the biscuits around the plate.
"Here, I forgot the knife," I said, but I could hear the falseness in my voice and was sure they could too. Mrs Newton looked at me with a stunned expression, evidently weighing up whether or not I had heard her little rant. I dropped the knife with a clatter onto the plate and marched out, refusing to turn around and say each of the nasty things I sorely wished to.
I almost hit Charlie when I rounded the corner to the hall; he had three bottles of wine in his hands and poked me lightly with the tip of one as he stepped into the lounge. "Excuse me, Bells."
I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth in an effort to control the angry tears welling more forcefully in my eyes. I turned to go into the kitchen but then saw Mike's back leaning over the stove and made a beeline for the stairs instead, intending to clean myself up in the bathroom before coming back down.
I closed the door behind me and paced back and forth for a few moments before leaning heavily over the sink. I looked into the mirror and saw my eyes had become puffy, and that a little mascara was running down one cheek. I grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned it up as best I could, but kept leaning over the sink as I thought.
So Mike's parents thought Jessica was a better choice than me? That she was prettier, even? Angela and Alice had made the effort to come and dress me up especially for tonight, yet they still thought I was plainer than a sheet of paper. I was getting angrier by the second and the tears were welling again, but I ignored them. At least in here I was safe from someone asking me what was wrong.
A flutter in my peripheral caught my attention. Something like a moth was flying around the heat lamp I'd switched on overhead. I ignored it and stared back at the sink, my elbows jutting inwards at I straightened my arms.
Maybe Mike thought the same thing of me. He might have thought I was pretty but if that was the case he barely ever said it. He used to always be calling Jessica an array of pretty words in front of everyone else when they were together, thought I knew it was more of a boyfriend/girlfriend show rather than a relationship since they were both so carefully watched by other socialites.
I took a great breath and look at myself in the mirror. There were three choices in this situation.
One, and naturally the easiest, was to wallow in my own pity and allow Mike's parents to badmouth me as they pleased.
Two was to act like I very much wanted to and throw a full tantrum at those stupid air-wasters and tell them exactly what I thought of them, embarrassing Charlie, Mike and myself and building a fairly horrid reputation along with the loss of my relationship with one Mike Newton.
Thirdly was to hold my head high and take it like a man – and do my best to change their opinions of me. The looks I couldn't change without surgery - or at the very least piles and piles of makeup, but the personality could easily be built upon. If they thought Jessica was pretty enough for Mike, then I was going to make them see that I was matched to Mike with more than just looks (or lack thereof).
Option three, here I come.
Feeling determined, I wiped away the traces of black creeping down my cheeks and fluffed my bun a little before stepping out the door and heading back down the stairs.
"Bella!" Mike called from the kitchen.
"Yeah?" I called back.
"I think the pasta is done."
Mike would either be polite enough or unobservant enough to not comment on my red and puffy eyes, so I felt no aversion to his call.
I dashed the remaining three stairs and only stumbled as far as the door to the broom closet (not within view of those in the lounge, fortunately). Mike was stirring happily when I entered the room, and handed me the spoon when I came over.
"Thanks, Mike," I said sincerely. He beamed and sat down again.
I checked the pudding to make sure it wasn't too far along, and then pulled off the lid to the Bolognese sauce and saw that it was ready too.
"Mike?" I asked over my shoulder, and he stood to accommodate me, "Would you be good enough to grab five plates from that cupboard over there?" I said, pointing at one of the yellow doors.
"Sure." He opened the cupboard and looked at it for a moment before adding, "Which ones?"
"The ones with the edges."
I heard the familiar clatter as he pulled the required plates out from under the others.
"Here you go." He sat them down next to me and I immediately start dishing out pasta and plopping the steaming sauce and meatballs in the middle of each circular, worm-like pile.
"How much do your parents usually eat?" I asked Mike, who was still by my side.
"Dad eats the same as me and Mum eats a bit less."
I looked at him with an obvious expression. "Care to elaborate?"
"Oh," he laughed, realising that I didn't know what amounts he was referring to. "About as much as you've got on that plate is what Dad and I will eat."
"Okay," I said, and handed him the plate. "This can be your Dad's. Put it there," I said, pointing to the place beside where Charlie would be sitting at the head of the table.
We continued like that until Charlie's plate was at the head, Mike's Dad beside him, Mike's Mum beside him, Mike opposite his mother and me sitting between Charlie and Mike.
Unwilling to face Jenny again, I asked Mike to call everyone to dinner while I put the saucepans into the sink and ran a little water over them so they wouldn't be all crusty when it came time to wash them.
The main course went as smoothly as possible. Mike and I stayed quiet for the majority of the time, thankfully not having to endure tales about our early childhood or any of the dreaded 'First Time' stories. The conversation mostly came from Charlie as he had more of an interesting life than the other two; he could easily turn an account about a stolen street sign into an exciting adventure involving masked thieves and a wild goose chase around the town. I laughed along with everyone else, but kept catching unreadable looks across the table from Jenny.
Everyone commented on how lovely the meal was as I collected the plates, and I graciously accepted them, assuring them that as full as they were there'd have to be room for Grandma Swan's famous chocolate pudding. Charlie nearly fell off his chair when he heard that.
He'd started recounting a story about the good ol' days and the origin of the pudding we were about to eat, while Mike helped me pile the dirty dishes on the sink. I pulled the pudding out of the oven, pleased that it hadn't burnt, and started cutting portions out for everyone. Mike headed to the freezer without instruction and pulled out a tub of ice-cream.
"What?" he said innocently when I smiled at him from the corner of my eye. "I love chocolate pudding and ice-cream!"
I laughed and shook my head playfully as he mumbled something about having nuts on it too.
"Looks good, Bells," Charlie said as I lay his plate out in front of him. Mike's pile of ice-cream sat beside his pudding in a bowl slightly bigger than everyone else's – at his request.
I sat down and smiled as everyone started eating. It was silent for a minute while we chewed, then Jenny opened her mouth to speak and I was instantly reminded of her earlier comments.
'I just want to know what he sees in a girl like Isabella.'
"It's Bella." I said before I could stop myself.
"Pardon?" She said after a moment of rearranging her thoughts.
"Bella," I repeated, "not Isabella."
"But I-" she started, but I cut her off.
"Before, in the lounge, when you were talking about me to your husband? You called me Isabella. It's Bella."
I scooped a mouthful of pudding into my mouth and carefully chewed it. I'd snapped my carefully composed charade, and I knew I wouldn't be able to reign myself in so I decided I might as well do the thing properly.
Mike was sitting open mouthed beside me; Charlie was looking thoroughly confused at the head of the table; Mr Newton had a spoon of pudding frozen halfway between his plate and his mouth and Mrs Newton looked like she was scrambling for some kind of way to explain away the situation. I decided to save her the bother – or rather, to dig her a hole too deep to ever be vacated.
"You said, 'I just want to know what he sees in a girl like Isabella', didn't you? I was sure that's what I heard, among other things," I'd managed to ask in a way that was so freakishly polite that I knew I sounded like a Stepford Wife. I smiled civilly and chewed a new mouthful of pudding, eyeing Mrs Newton's reaction carefully.
Everyone sat in deathly silence for a moment, shocked by my outburst of sorts. Finally, Charlie dropped his fork and brushed his palms together in a way which was meant to be cheerful. I knew he was just trying to take the focus away from me.
"Well, that was excellent Bella. I'm just about ready to turn in. Arthur and Jenny, I can walk you out if you like..?" Charlie stood up and left his plate on the table as he led them out the door. I could hear him muttering his apologies on my behalf as a rustling told me he was fetching Mr Newton's coat for him. I stayed at the table and ate my food like nothing had happened, and Mike continued to stare open-mouthed at me.
"What was that?!" he asked incredulously.
"What was what?"
"That! You totally just insulted my parents!"
I turned to him with enough venom in my eyes to kill an elephant. "I insulted them? Shouldn't you be sticking up for me and apologising on my behalf or something that a good boyfriend should do?"
"Good boyfriend!" He stood up and ran a hand through his gelled hair. "I'm going to go before I say something I regret, Bella, so I'll see you on Monday. Or something."
He left without a kiss or hug or even saying 'goodbye'.
The door clicked shut behind the Newton's as they left the house, and once the sound of their engine rumbled away Charlie sighed in the hall. I pushed my plate of food away from me and held my head in my hands.
"Bella?" Charlie asked tentatively. He sat down beside me and put a hand on my back, just like I wished Mike had done. "It's alright Bells, it's alright."
An in an act completely out of line, I leaned into Charlie's shoulder and cried my eyes out. I felt the tiny bottles of emotion I'd gathered up in the last five and a half months break their little glass sides and spill over, washing the mascara down my cheeks.
Jacob had become someone I didn't know anymore, and it sucked because I knew there was nothing I could do about it. And now Mike's family, who I'd thought I was on good terms with, had inadvertently announced their second-rate opinions of me. Worst than both of these, however, was that Mike had been so embarrassed by my behaviour that didn't come to my rescue like the boyfriend I thought he was.
"C'mon Bella, I think its time for some sleep."
He wrenched me up from the chair and carried me to the stairs, letting me lean heavily on him as we headed for my room. I mumbled "thanks, sorry, I'll be fine" and Charlie hugged me before he pulled my bedroom door closed behind him.
I thought he might have gone to call Alice, and I didn't want her or Angela to see me in such a mess, so I heaved myself off the bed and grabbed my toiletries bag as I headed for the bathroom. I grabbed my dressing gown off the back of my door too.
After trying fruitlessly to rub the blackness from my cheeks, I gave up and pulled a bottle of face wash out of my duffel bag before stripping off, yanking the elastics out of my hair and stepping under the water.
I stared at the water-darkened tiles at my feet, feeling the rain-like drops hitting my back but hearing them like they were far from where I was. It was like there was cotton wool in my ears and everything was a little muffled.
I flinched when I saw something dark move on the tile by my feet. My muscles released their tension and I went back to staring at nothing when I realised that it was nothing more than a small, gray garden butterfly. And it was dead, moving only by the splashes of water coming from the shower head and dripping down the tiled wall. I stared at it, thinking that it deserved to rest in peace rather than spend the remainder of my shower time having its tiny body beaten by water droplets. I stepped around so I was blocking a bit of the water spray, and the butterfly started floating on the thin tide toward the drain. Just as the butterfly neared the white plastic of the waterfall to its grave, it fluttered. It was still alive.
My first conscious thought was to get it out from under the water, but my limbs wouldn't listen to me. I watched in a state of frozen horrified fascination as it struggled against the tide sweeping it towards a sure death, but still I couldn't move. It made its last attempts to hold on as half its body was claimed by the hole in the ground, but a wash of uneven water spray washed down my foot and knocked it down into the invisible depths of darkness.
Tears started to well in my eyes again. I nearly screamed when an unexpected sound came from the door.
"Bella?" Alice said, knocking softly on the bathroom door. I wiped the tears and drops of water away from my face, then twisted the old chrome taps around to shut off the water.
I was pretty sure Angela was with her, so I called, "I'll be out in a minute, guys." My voice sounded rusty and ragged, like I'd swallowed a ball of steel wool or had been a pack-a-day smoker for the last forty-five years of my seventeen year old life.
"Okay, we'll be in your room." Angela started to close the door but Alice's fingers shot out and curled around the frame, and she said "Take your time." Her fingers disappeared and the door clicked shut.
A while later, I wasn't sure how long, a detail registered in my mind. The water wasn't flowing anymore. I shivered, not realising that I'd been standing with water dripping down my body for an unknown length of time. I wrung out my hair with my hands and tried to ignore the thought that scolded me for dunking more water down the drain onto that poor little-
The towel felt nice on my skin, as did the flannelette dressing gown, but the tiles were cold and harsh on my feet. I dropped my towel onto the floor to make up for the lack of a floor mat and stood on it while I grabbed another towel from the cupboard and tossed my hair up into a rough bundle.
I took a deep breath, and prepared to relive my night as Alice and Angela would ask for the details.
Charlie hadn't gone to bed yet; I could tell both because someone had to have been able to let Angela and Alice in, and because the score of some game was being announced from the television in the lounge room. I crossed to the door to my room quietly, not wanting to make Charlie feel obliged in any way as to my emotional issues.
That's what best friends were for.
I walked in to my room, expecting to see Alice jumping up and down on the bed and Angela trying to hold her down, but when I shut the door behind myself and looked at them properly, Alice was sitting quietly in the middle of my doona and Angela was staring at the blackness outside my window from her place on the mattress beside Alice. They each looked at me when the latch clicked in the door, so I tried to be brave and extinguish their worries by smiling but the stupidity of the movement made the tears start up again.
Each of them rushed forward to throw an arm over my shoulder and guide me back to the bed before my legs gave way. I leaned on Angela's shoulder while Alice slid off the mattress and knelt by my feet, trying to wrench my hands away from my face so she could see me properly. I was being more stubborn than usual so she gave up and spoke to the back of my palms.
"Bella, whatever it is, I assure you that it'll help to talk about it." I wasn't budging so she added, "And if it doesn't I'll do the most disgusting thing I can think of."
My interest rose slightly, and I slid my hands away from my now extra puffy and red-rimmed eyes to see her. I didn't say anything but she knew I wanted more information so she continued with a smile.
"I'll ask Jasper Whitlock on a date."
Ange tried to stifle her giggles but I could feel her shaking body beside me. I reacted accordingly and cracked a smile. "Really?" I hiccoughed.
"Scouts honour," she said, saluting me grandly.
"Okay." I told them everything. How I was so shocked to hear what Mike's parents really thought of me, how Charlie had gotten them to leave because I was clearly upset – but then mingling hatred and devastating hurt was added to the mix when I got to the part where Mike had sat by like an idiot and had had the nerve to blame me for it.
Alice and Angela gasped in the right places, growled in some others and even started planning torture at one point. I shushed them each time, but I could feel the black cloud lessening as I talked. Darn, I had been looking forward to seeing Alice ask Jasper out.
"So are you two still together?" Angela finally asked when I'd finished my story. I'd told them almost everything – everything but what had happened in the shower.
"I don't know," I replied, shrugging. 'I guess we'll find out on Monday."
"Yeah, we'll find out on Monday," Alice agreed.
"Bella," Angela started, but I held up a hand to stop her, afraid that she would ask what I wanted to happen between Mike and I.
"Would you guys mind sleeping here tonight? I'd like the company, and, well, Charlie isn't very good at being a girl."
Alice giggled and said, "Too right, he was squirming at the mere mention of nail polish the other day…"
"Well be back in a second, Bella." The both jumped up and headed for the door, satisfied I wasn't going to break down in their absence. "Give me the keys, Alice."
"No way!"
I heard them protesting down the stairs, their voices growing fainter the farther they went. I folded my legs up on the bed, thinking.
Alice had mentioned something about nail polish, and my thoughts had swung to my illusive pen pal, Edward. I looked around at the desk for his letter, where I'd stashed it that morning during my cleaning frenzy. I leaned over and snatched it up, unfolding it and reading the part I wanted to see.
Okay. This is getting ridiculous. Jared, there's lots of food in the cupboard. Go get it.
I'm Edward and I like boobies and wearing nail polish
This is getting impossibly ridiculous.
I felt the corners of my lips pull up in a smile at the words, silly as they were. And I couldn't help but wonder what Edward would say about my situation, even though I'd only received and written one letter to him.
Alice and Angela came crashing up the stairs again, arguing about who got the best pillow. I laughed and threw the note back onto the desk just before they fell into the room together. At the sight of their bags and even sleeping bags, I found a question forming on my lips.
"How did you know you'd need to bring stuff with you?"
Angela picked herself up. "Alice had a feeling," she looked at the little pixie, who was already throwing her stuff all over the shop, "that we were going to need it." She dropped her bag on the floor and unrolled her sleeping bag next to Alice's.
"And I also thought to bring chocolate!" Alice exclaimed, plunging her hand into her overnight bag and producing three extra large blocks of Edible Hapiness.
Angela snatched the one with caramel and started unwrapping it, throwing a row of squares at me.
"You guys are the best," I said between chews.
"We know," they chimed together, throwing more chocolate at me and – girly chick-flick style DVD's!
I was flattened a second later by a pair of bodies, then was so consumed by the girl's night in we were having that all thoughts of Mike, Edward and a little gray butterfly flew from my mind.
Wooo!! Updated!
Okay, I lied. Edward's letter is in the next one... I promise I didn't mean to say the wrong thing, but I got confused or something!
To consolidate, here's a sneak peek at the next chapter:
"That reminds me, I DO have something interesting to report on. This weekend I'm going to the interschool Athletics Day. I think our school's competitors are catching a bus with yours, if my source is correct. Are you going? "
Love me or hate me, you want to review, don't you? This chapter's subject: tell me what you think of Mike Newton NOW?
-Shaps