Chapter Eight: Swan

"You really don't have to do this, Dad," I said groaning as I handed the heavy weather-beaten leather suitcase to Charlie. I leaned against the wooden door frame where my father was preparing to depart. I should have been ecstatic that I'd be given an entire weekend off without parental supervision, but instead I was nervous and anxious to be left alone in my eerie second home. Even though I was mere hours away from holding one of Fork's highly-anticipated Halloween Masquerade I was still as unfazed about it as ever.

"Nah, Bells you have fun at your party," he finally faced me.

Should I hug him?

Charlie leaned in for a bear hug, holding on not a moment longer than he had to.

I could sense his genuine excitement at being able to take a small vacation to La Push. He had his fishing gear ready and all that was left to do was leave his brooding 17 year old daughter behind.

"I left money on the table. Remember, no burning the house down, no boys sleeping over, no drinking, no smoking, no none of those things," he said, but smiled. He knew I wasn't the type to do so, but felt it his paternalistic obligation to set these rules anyway, "Call me whenever you want, okay honey?"

"Thanks, Dad," and I hugged him back again, "Have fun."

"You too, Bells."

I watched him get into his cruiser and pull out of the garage.

When I finally closed and locked the door I panned around the room. It was strange how empty a house felt when it was missing one other member. I took a long draw of air in, my head spinning with the night's possibilities.

The thud of the bass downstairs vibrated through out the house. I couldn't make out whether it was from some droopy ballad or an annoyingly over-played hip hop song on the radio, but it nevertheless matched the current state of my palpitating heart. I had offered thousands of times to help Jessica and "the crew" out with setting up for the party, but she insisted in exact verbatim that "I was useless downstairs and that I should just get ready for the best party in Forks' history."

Thankfully, I was not alone. Angela's company assuaged my anxious state. She sat across from me, applying the make-up and hair treatment that I was unfortunately unskilled with.

"Um, Bella," Angela's voice spoke softly, "can you please not shake so much? I'm starting to smudge."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just really nervous."

"Don't be," Angela's tone of voice had a calming effect on my nerves, "It's going to be great. They're doing a great job with decorations downstairs, and I'm positive that at least thirty people are coming tonight."

"Oh, good," I replied. The real reason I was nervous had nothing to do with any of those things. My one concern had something to do with a certain secret someone. It was stupid of me to hope. I hadn't seen Edward in the past week, how was he supposed to know I even invited him?

"Okay, you're just about done," Angela said finishing up her work with the tiny sound of an eye shadow case closing shut, "it looks great, Bella!"

"Thanks, Angela. I really appreciate it. I'm a mess at this make-up stuff."

"You're welcome," I opened my eyes to a beaming Angela.

"I'm going to let you get dressed. Jessica told me your costume is inside that white bag," Angela said pointing to a vinyl white garment bag, "I'm going to go get ready myself. See you downstairs!"

When I was finally alone I took the liberty to lie across my bed and close my eyes. I had no idea hosting a party could be so stressful. Couldn't I just lie here all night in full make-up and let Jessica have her party? It was nothing but a ploy to get her alone with Jacob Black anyway.

Suddenly a knock on the door startled me out of remonstration.

"Hey, Bella," the familiar nagging voice of Jessica pierced through the three-inch thick door, "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting ready," I called back.

"Okay, I'm coming in."

I hopped to my feet. Jessica would be go berserk if she saw me laying about being absolutely useless to this whole party business.

"Bella, why aren't you dressed?"

I realized then that Jessica had changed from the peach t-shirt and jeans she had arrived in into something a lot more voluminous and slightly bizarre. I couldn't make out exactly where her costume began and ended. All I knew was that it had a lot of pink tulle and shiny, glittering fabrics. The sight was hard to take in, but I adjusted my eyes to the initial glitter factory that was Jessica's ensemble. As I tried to gain coherence I could make out its components: a revealing top and bell skirt that grew as it came to the knees. A garish set of magenta butterfly wings topped Jessica's outfit into a higher state of 'twisted.' I stifled my laugh at the furry pink wand that Jessica held between her bracelet-clad hands.

"Like it, huh?" Jessica beamed and her mood morphed into the giddy school-girl that often irritated me, but was at least tolerable.

"Yep, Jess," I said ashamed that I was telling her a farce, "you pull if off well."

She smiled and drew near me.

"Jake's gonna love this," she said looking down at her full chest and picking a piece of pink glitter off her skin.

"Um, you look nice too," she said barely even looking up at me.

I could hear the doorbell ring through the fog of music. I got up to get it, but Jessica's jingling arm pulled me down next to her.

"No," she said as if I was breaking a common custom, "Hilary's going to get it."

Hilary? She must be one of the many minions that Jessica appointed to attend to the party and its guests.

I sighed.

Jessica checked her watched and screamed.

"Oh my gosh, only one hour left till we party!" Jessica squealed pulled me up again, "Get your butt dressed, missy."

She walked towards the white garment bag hanging on my closet door and shoved it toward me.

"Now put this on, Bella. I'm going to check if Jake decided to come early."

And like a whirlwind of pink sparks Jessica was gone, and I was left with the daunting task of opening my costume. Angela had told me earlier that the garment had been Jessica's younger sister's old ballet costume when she had performed in Swan Lake. Fitting, I thought with a dash of bitterness. I was skeptical of whether it would fit or not, but Jessica only gave me a groan and told me that I was skinny as a twig and could probably fit into her clothes from third grade.

I couldn't believe I was letting a mere costume add to my inventory of reasons to be nervous. A small part of me still hoped he would come. On a more superficial note, I wanted to look my very best if my cards were lucky tonight.

I took a deep breath.

My hands held onto the stark white zipper and moved along, following the curves as it winded down. One final pull let a plush of the softest crèam-white fabric poke through the opening.

I maneuvered my hands inside the bag and fished the garment out. I immediately pulled out of my casual clothing and lifted the pearly white, soft-as-a-cloud mass over my frame. I was surprised when every corner and curve conformed to my body in perfect synchronization.

Not only did the garment fit, but it felt weightless beneath the infusion of fabrics.

I walked, rather danced, into my bathroom at the full body-length mirror and was in awe of the figure before me. It was soft, ethereal, and beautiful. It wasn't me and yet when I searched hard enough I was still the same old Bella Swan.

My make-up was done beautifully and enhanced my features rather than drown them, but it was the dress that was responsible for my metamorphosis. My hair was in a loose chignon that cascaded down my back to showoff bare shoulders. An asymmetrical strap ran diagonally along the front of the top. It was composed of opulently folded flowers with white feathers placed judiciously throughout. The silk sweet-heart top lifted my usually meager chest and gave the illusion of an elegant bust. My small, fragile waist was accentuated as a corset tapered down my torso.

I pinched the pearl-colored, skirt blooming out before me. I did an obligatory twirl around as the skirt, that ended just before my knees, unfolded around me to reveal subtle white glitter diffused through out. The white tulle beneath it was soft enough that it didn't scratch my legs.

I stopped in my tracks at the beauty of the backside of the costume. I was always apprehensive about revealing too much skin, but the bareness felt beautiful. The back was draped low to where a small beauty mark on my shoulder blade was in plain sight.

Smiling never came so naturally to me when I was in this beautiful, worthy-of-a-goddess dress. Of course, the ugliness of my arm still remained as a reminder of my true self. I subsequently wrapped a silk, nearly translucent ribbon all along my arm, and it was nearly gone.

The clock read that it was only five minutes until the masquerade's inception. The only thing left to do was put on the mask.

No doubt the mask seamlessly coordinated with the entire ensemble. I put on matching pearly open-toed heels (courtesy of Jessica) and felt the lurch of my stomach as I realized that people were already arriving downstairs.