CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Hypocrisy
In fifth grade, Charlie sent my birthday card three weeks late. He included a long, handwritten note telling me he lost his book of stamps and that he'd make it up to me. I told him I understood.
When Renee married Phil, she reassured me with a smile that talking to him via telephone as he traveled the minor league baseball circuit from Fresno to Albuquerque was enough to make her happy. The smile didn't reach her eyes, and I knew she was lying and that on some level, conscious or not, she knew I'd realize the truth. Yet, I couldn't hold that against her because she was my mom and the only true friend I had. She deserved happiness, and again, as I packed my bags full of raincoats and headed northwest, I understood.
Countless times, Lauren Mallory sneered at me in the hallway or gnawed at my confidence with her cacophonous words during lunch. But strangely enough, I couldn't really hate her. Lauren's mother, a former Miss Clallam County, packed her lunches full of rice cakes and, even in public, pushed Lauren to watch her weight like a meteorologist watches the weather. I always knew that Lauren hated herself more than she could ever hate me. Her behavior wasn't fair, she wasn't nice, but I understood.
I forgave them all because I always understood. Logic was my saving grace. Never before had it escaped me in favor of blind rage.
Until now.
Until him.
Edward threw away my love like yesterday's garbage, broke my heart deliberately, and lied to me. He claimed the moral high ground, but I couldn't see reason; I could only feel pain. And for once, I couldn't understand.
I stomped away from our last conversation shocked. Confused. Furious. Never had I been in less control of my emotions; every time I tried to rein them in, I was met with total resistance. For three blocks, from the park to the Forks' solitary stop-lighted intersection, I alternated between sobbing and spitting fire. No longer did I feel the cold air around me; my anger was a furnace that kept me warm but still shivering. From my forehead to my feet, my muscles were tense with an anger I couldn't control, an anger that prickled my arms with goose bumps, chattered my teeth, and watered my eyes. All the blood must have rushed to my head; I could feel the pulse beat in my temples. It throbbed in time with my feet as they hit the pavement.
Of all the…stupid…cocky…self-indulgent...condescending…invasive…self-righteous behavior I'd witnessed in my eighteen years, the previous thirty minutes sitting on a park bench, physically and emotionally frozen with Edward, took the cake.
Who was he to tell me what I felt?
Where did he get off making my choices for me because somehow he knew what was best for me?
How could I not be infuriated that he took the bravest moment of my introverted life and turned it into the kind of humiliation that makes a girl question every redeeming part of herself?
How could he expect a few earnest sentences to mend my splintered soul and make me forget the slow burn of his rejection and the sneer on his face when he told me he could never want me?
He'd stayed away and watched silently from afar, waiting for me to right myself and live the life he decided was best for me. And now he wanted to wave a magic wand and erase the past, the ache, the loneliness. He wanted me to pretend like it never happened, to simply forget. My fists contracted at the arrogant simplicity of his desires.
A gust of wind chilled the spilt tears on my cheeks, reminding me of my weakness, my stupidity in losing my temper and revealing to Edward that, even after all this time, I still cared. I wiped my face with both sleeves and took out my frustration out on a trashcan in front of Dowlings' Auto Repair by kicking it. Hard. Aluminum met concrete, and the crashing sound that followed made me jump like a jackrabbit mainlining Red Bull.
I looked up to find one of the Dowlings' mechanics watching me from behind a dirty window, his face wrinkled in confusion. Or maybe annoyance. I couldn't be sure, as I no longer had the confidence to properly read people.
My face flushed, and I frantically worked to pick up the trashcan and its scattered former contents. I aimed to smile apologetically at the mechanic, but my reflection in the glass told me I'd missed that mark. My lips quivered up into a desperate grimace, I was shivering both from the cold and fried nerves, my face was tear-stained, and my back hunched slightly. I looked deranged. In fact, if the mechanic tossed a bucket of water on me, I might pull a Wicked Witch of the West and cackle senselessly before melting into a puddle of insanity.
Once the can was upright and the trash cleared, I continued my awkward death march back to the high school. As I cut across the parking lot, I tried to calm myself. No one was worth losing my cool over once, and I'd managed to lose it a dozen times over when it came to Edward. I needed to do the mature thing and put Edward and his dangerous words behind me. Spending the next hour settled into my seat in history listening to a tedious lecture on the Eisenhower administration would hopefully jumpstart that process.
Lunch had ended, and the next class period was well underway when I approached the side entrance to the school. Walking into English thirty minutes late did not seem like a good idea as I'd used up all my courage. Instead, I planned to wait the hour out in the bathroom and then sneak into the hall after the bell rang, under the radar, along with the rest of my classmates before heading to my final class of the day.
I should have known today would not be the day my luck changed for the better.
I swung open the glass door, annoyed that it squeaked on its hinges and nearly crashed into Shep Huntley, a.k.a. Principal Huntley, a.k.a. Mr. "I stand five feet, three inches tall and thus manifest my insecurities on unsuspecting high school students" Huntley.
A vampire had just told me he had feelings for me, right after he told me the past four months of misery had been based on a complete lie. Facing something as trivial as detention for skipping school seemed ridiculous compared to the emotional turmoil I'd just experienced. I should have been able to shake it off, but instead my heart was in my throat and my pulse echoed in my ears.
"Miss Swan." Huntley's too-sweet candor was smug and told me I was in a world of trouble. The entire cafeteria witnessed me storming out and leaving school property with Edward at my heels. In a school of less than three hundred students, that sort of behavior doesn't escape notice of the typically bored faculty.
I couldn't look at Huntley, so my eyes befriended the floor. My face was red and puffy. One clear sight of it would begin to answer whatever unasked questions swam through Huntley's head.
"Did something interesting happen off of school property that merited your personal attention, Miss Swan?" His tongue clicked, punctuating his question.
I swallowed. Words escaped me. I was Chief Swan's daughter, but that didn't give me courage when it came to confrontations with authority figures. This was probably because I rarely got into trouble and tended to avoid conflict at all costs. Even with Charlie, I could count the number of times on one hand that he'd raised his voice to me.
I'd received one detention in my life, last fall for skipping class in order to hunt pumpkins and flirt with Edward, and that came in the form of a written slip from the desk of Ms. Cope, not directly from the mouth of Forks High School's red-faced answer to Napoleon.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled to my feet. "I just—I needed some fresh air."
"We are not an open campus, Miss Swan. We have rules, and though we have relaxed them somewhat in…special cases—" he circled around me like a bird of prey watching a wriggling worm "—there have to be limits."
Pitifully, I nodded.
Huntley whistled air through his lips and prepare to unleash the full brunt of his lecture, but before he could speak, the door squeaked again.
My internal compass that tracked Edward's every move spun south and told me he was standing right behind me.
"The fault is mine and mine alone, Principal Huntley." His voice was smooth with subtle tinges of authority. I wouldn't dare argue with Edward had I been in Huntley's place. Then again, Edward was a high school student who stood over six feet tall and that alone put him on Huntley's hit list.
Squinting up at Edward over my shoulder, Huntley smirked. "Why don't you let Miss Swan explain herself, Mr. Cullen? I'll deal with you in a moment."
"Honestly, sir, I made her go outside with me, the blame should fall upon me."
A scoff. "Is that so, Miss Swan?"
Huntley waited for me to nod in agreement. When I didn't, his confidence that I would rat out Edward waned and he grew displeased. Rising up slightly on his toes, he pivoted sharply before marching down the hallway. Without turning, he barked, "My office. Both of you. Now."
The anger that enraged me earlier cooled as embarrassment took over. Dozens of minutes ago, I'd sworn and spat and screamed to Edward that I'd hated him, sounding like a recently grounded teenager shouting idle proclamations of loathing at her parents. He must think I was such an idiot, such a child. I reminded myself that I shouldn't care what Edward thought…but I couldn't fight the fact that I did.
I gulped too loudly as I considered what was happening. The last thing I needed at this point was to be chastised in the principal's office in front of Edward. And what if Huntley called Charlie? What would I say? I could lie that my back was bothering me, but that felt wrong somehow, to use my physical ailments that already caused my parents too much worry in order to cover up my emotional fragility. Yet, there was no way I could tell him the truth. Besides, Charlie had an unspoken prohibition against conversations that began with "Well, you see, Dad, there's this boy…"
I followed Huntley with my head down and shoulders slumped. Edward walked somewhere near my side, not too close but still…near. I caught glimpses of the untarnished leather of his shoes moving in synch with the grass-stained canvas of my sneakers.
We had to walk outside, through the courtyard, to reach the administrative offices. When I shivered, it didn't escape Edward's notice. His arm darted into my downturned range of vision, interrupting the steady stream of passing concrete. In his hand, he held my jacket. The very jacket I'd hung up that morning in my locker.
Questions of when? and where? and how dare you? formed in my head, but I couldn't look at nor speak to him. In theory, I was angry. In reality, I was self-conscious. And inexplicably…guilty. And cold. I took the jacket and sheltered my quivering arms in its sleeves. A nod toward the ground was the only form of gratitude I was capable of offering him.
We trudged past Ms. Cope's desk. She smiled warmly at Edward. I didn't look at his face to see if he humored her in return.
Edward held the door open for me. I shuffled past him and took the seat in the corner, my elbows propped up on my knees so my back would avoid the unforgiving hardness of the chair.
Huntley kept an unnaturally tidy office, with plaques and framed certificates adorning every square inch of wall space. If I squinted, I was pretty sure some of them dated back to spelling bees he participated in during elementary school while others likely commiserated his third-place finish in the hot dog eating contest held in the town square every Fourth of July.
The three of us sat in silence for a minute or two. Of its own volition, my leg bounced up and down in a nervous, inconsistent rhythm. My fingers tapped against the metal arms of the chair but stopped the second Huntley cleared his throat.
"I'm disappointed to see you back in here so soon, Mr. Cullen. It's been what? Three days?"
I snuck a peek at Edward from behind a curtain of my hair, the first time I'd spied his face since the park. He smiled congenially in response to Huntley's snide remark. "Sir, as I explained, that glass was not up to code. As soon as the doors flung open, the wind took over and shattered—"
"You can't blame faulty glass for you threatening someone on school property."
This was about Monday afternoon, about Edward hoisting my ex-boyfriend onto the roof of his car with unbridled fury in front of half the student body.
Blood swelled in my checks as Huntley continued, "After discussing things with your father—" Huntley frowned at the mention of Dr. Cullen, likely bitter over wealthy newcomers who could buy their way out from under his precious but limited authority "—we agreed you'd be on your best behavior. And then you chase Miss Swan from the lunch room and off of school property as if the rules simply don't apply to you."
"I did, sir. As I said earlier, it was completely my fault. I'm willing to accept whatever punishment you'd like to impose. I understand that I was completely out of line."
Edward's words were technically apologetic, but his tone conveyed confidence and control. This irked Huntley, who struck me as the type who would settle for nothing less than groveling. Jessica told me earlier in the cafeteria that Dr. Cullen bribed the school board with a new science wing or a refurbishment of the school computer lab in exchange for Edward receiving a slap on the wrist after the Parking Lot Incident. If that were true, Huntley's overreaction to Edward skipping a single class period suddenly made perfect sense.
"Nonetheless, Mr. Cullen, I'd like to talk to Miss Swan alone. I think she'd be more comfortable—"
"No."
One final drop of courage I didn't know I had pushed the syllable out my lips. I wasn't sure why I said it. Maybe it was because I didn't want Edward's protection. Or maybe I didn't want him to take the blame for my running away. Either way, I couldn't push this absurd punishment onto him. The fault was mine for running off in an overly obvious huff in front of countless students and teachers.
Edward's head swiveled toward me. Without meeting his eyes, my skin turned some outrageous shade of fuchsia and I shook my head, begging him not to fight me on this. I felt kind of insane for wanting Edward to stay, but I didn't want to be left alone with Huntley and his arsenal of meaningless accolades.
"Very well." Huntley tapped his chin with his index finger and perused the file in front of him. "Prior to this school year, Miss Swan, you had an unblemished record. Zero tardies. No detentions, no expulsions. Not a single unexcused absence." He picked up a stack of papers from the file and straightened them into a perfect pile. "However, this year has been a different story. One detention in October for skipping class. Another instance of skipping a few weeks ago…which we let slide considering…"
Considering I was a basket case that no B.A. in education prepared faculty members to deal with.
The faculty pitied me, so they'd cut me slack for not paying attention in class, for refusing to participate in group projects and instead completing them on my own, and for hiding in a bathroom stall for two hours while I wept rather than attending class. Apparently, despite being the recent victim of a "bear attack," the special treatment Huntley alluded to was drawing to a close.
"My point, Isabella," he narrowed his eyes at me as soon as I gathered the nerve to look up from my lap, "is that you've never been a troublemaker. If something—someone—is causing you to lash out, bothering you in any way, I think I could excuse your recent behavior and let you off with a warning."
Huntley glared at Edward as he awaited my reply.
"No one's bothering me. I left because I wanted to." Needed to. "No one forced me to skip class. It was my own fault."
"Is that so?" Huntley interpreted my panic over being cornered as uncertainty.
"Yes, sir." I couldn't let myself look at Edward, but I heard every breath he took. "It was my fault, not his."
The seconds ticked by on the clock mounted behind the desk. Huntley squinted at both of us, looking for signs of weakness. One sideways glance at Edward told me he was blatantly staring right at me, begging me with his eyes for answers as to why I was doing this. As if I had any to give him; I was as dumbfounded by my actions as he was.
Huntley finally grew impatient at my unwillingness to crack. "It appears that both of you left school property without permission. The fault—and therefore the punishment—must fall on both of you. Ordinarily, I'd give you one day of service for leaving school property. However, through your insubordination, both of you have earned a second day. Perhaps you can revise your attitude toward authority during your time together." He opened a drawer, withdrew a pink tablet, and scribbled loudly across its surface. "Two days of Spartan Service."
Spartan Service. The last time I'd received Forks High School's lame version of community service for skipping class, I'd survived. I mashed my lips together in nervous concentration and told myself, You can do this.
"If you have no problem with Mr. Cullen, Miss Swan, then you shouldn't have any complaints about spending Monday and Tuesday after school washing dishes with him." Huntley was challenging me. I saw it in his beady little eyes. He aimed to scare me, to push me into protest, to place the blame on Edward so that I could avoid the situation entirely and Huntley could exact his revenge.
I struggled like a buoy against a sea of emotions—befuddlement, fear, shock—but I couldn't let any of them overtake me. "Alright," I mumbled, sealing my fate.
To my left, my gaze followed Edward's hand as it moved to his face, covering whichever direction his lips twitched. When he felt my eyes on him, his darted over to my face and I snapped my attention back to the floor.
"Very well," Huntley mused. His eyes became slits evidencing his reluctant loss, and he unfurled his malice onto us both. "Monday. Three o'clock. Kitchen."
A pink sheet of carbon paper flitted into my lap, another into Edward's. Huntley's way of telling us the conversation was over.
The detention slip crumpled in my fist, I rose to my feet and headed straight to the bathroom. Splashing my face with cold water, I took a couple of deep breaths and found my way out into the empty courtyard. Edward wasn't far behind.
"You could have walked away. You didn't have to do that." His tone said he couldn't understand why I didn't take my out when Huntley offered it. Confusion didn't fit with the Edward who had confronted me earlier, but the current version of him seemed lost, a little worried, and pleading for an explanation. Edward's words—but more so the things he didn't say—reeled me back to him. In defeat, I turned around.
My vocal cords rattled from somewhere in the back of my throat as I answered, "I'm a lot of things, Edward." A coward. A bitter harpy. A humiliated door mat. "But I'm not a liar."
I didn't mean it as a veiled insult toward him, but nonetheless, Edward sighed and looked to the overcast sky. "I can get you out of this."
"No thanks," I said to the ground.
"I'll see you Monday, then." In a moment of complete unEdwardness, his voice cracked. My eyes snapped up to his face. His eyebrows were knitted together in perplexed concentration, and he studied me with apprehension and apology. He'd done a complete 180 in the past hour, and I couldn't process the reasons for his change. Or, rather, I didn't want to process them.
No longer could I label the game we were playing. If Edward's objective was reentry into my life, right now he was winning; his bizarre behavior was impossible to ignore. But beyond that, I feared what he truly wanted from me. Forgiveness? Trust? Love?
If those were the stakes, I wasn't sure I had the strength or the courage to participate in this game of ours.
Edward saw my jitters, which were evident through my trembling hands. His eyes told me he wanted to cover them with his. Thankfully, he didn't dare. Instead, he moved as if he were going to walk past me, out of my sight.
Strategy-wise, his parting move was a stroke of genius. With meticulous care, he avoided my skin and hair as he reached to the twisted collar of my jacket and straightened it so that it sheltered my neck from the brisk breeze. We locked eyes for the briefest of seconds, his fingers still skimming the nylon of my collar, and just like that, regardless of the goal of this unnamed game, he took a commanding lead.
My breath hitched, and I remained motionless even after he disappeared from the courtyard. My head told me I was still angry that he had the nerve to nearly touch me, to brazenly waltz back into my life. But my heart…my heart was fluttering.
This was a game, but it wasn't between Edward and me. No—the real game was between my heart and my head. As my pulse continued to pound too loudly in my ears, my brain demanded a return to my earlier state of stubborn, closed-off hostility.
Seventh period had begun during our time in Huntley's office. I sucked it up and headed to history, all the while marveling over the fact that in a single afternoon, my world had been turned on its axis.
Again.
Before I jerked open the classroom door to more stares and discomfort, I paused, gripping the knob. Somewhere between Huntley's office and here, my emotions shifted. I felt neither numb nor angry; instead my nerves crackled, my body alive with electricity. My fingertips smoothed the already straightened color of my jacket. Derisively, I muttered, "Game on."
X X X
Friday sucked. I was exhausted after getting next to no sleep the night before, spending the hours I should have been unconscious trying to hide from memories of that afternoon. Once I arrived at school in the morning, I noticed that the rings around my eyes made me look like a hung over raccoon. Plus, after the scene Edward and I made the day before at lunch, I was on the receiving end of more stares than usual. People didn't even bother to be sly about it. I felt like I had a third eye on the tip of my nose.
In an unprecedented twist of fate, during lunch, no one asked me a single question about Edward. Actually, no one spoke to me at all. Jessica and Lauren tossed me a few pointed glances, but they didn't try to draw me out of my bubble of solitude. The odd silence made me question whether my tablemates underwent overnight personality transplants. I kept my own mouth shut, ate my turkey sandwich, and tried unsuccessfully not to steal glimpses of Edward from under my eyelashes. Half the time, he was looking back at me and would send me hesitant half-smiles. I could only stare back with what I hoped was a blank poker face, but it didn't matter; Edward had always been able to read my tells.
A medicated night's sleep had not solved the hodgepodge of emotions bouncing around in my brain. One minute, I was resentful and indignant recalling his invasiveness in the park, the next I was remembering the sincerity in his eyes as he told me he wanted me. And then my heart would flip-flop, as if the past four months changed nothing.
But they had. I worked hard to remind myself everything was different now. I couldn't go back to being a doormat by allowing Edward to walk all over me and steal my heart without permission. Stubbornness, bitterness, bitchiness…I welcomed illogical emotions because they barricaded out the pain.
Those sorts feelings were safety nets for me because Edward was always watching—I could feel it even when my eyes were downcast onto the nearest inanimate object—but he seemed to understand that my only lifeline to sanity was his distance, so he left me alone.
I couldn't say the same for Mike. Not that I could really hold it against him. He wasn't Edward, and despite me wanting isolation, Mike wasn't the worst possible invader of my personal space.
"How's the back, Swan?" he asked, leaning against the locker adjacent to mine at the end of the school day.
"Hurts like hell, Newton. Thanks for asking."
"Sorry. So I guess that means you're not coming to the bonfire tonight down at First Beach."
First Beach. Bile coated my esophagus at the thought of my last visit exactly one week ago. Suddenly, the cuts on my skin pinched and burned in brutal celebration of the anniversary of my disfigurement. I managed to shake my head without losing my lunch all over Mike's Vans.
With sympathy, he filled the silence. "Maybe next time, then."
"Yeah," I lied. "Maybe."
He started to leave before turning to face me once more. "Bella?"
I raised my eyebrows in response, too tired to speak.
"For the record, Cullen sucks."
"Uh, thanks?" No coherent response came to mind. I didn't know what Mike knew or thought he knew, but it didn't matter; Edward was off limits. Even in my own psyche. I didn't want to think about him, let alone discuss his shortcomings with Mike Newton.
Unfortunately, Mike took my confusion as an invitation. "We all think so. Even Angela. And she likes everyone."
I shrugged and shoved my history textbook into my bag.
"You should have seen her at lunch. Before you sat down, she told everyone to keep their mouths shut because that d-bag had already done you enough harm." He grinned, savoring the memory. "Well, those weren't her exact words…but I've never heard her say so much in one go."
The mystery of Jessica and Lauren's grant of reprieve was solved. I was grateful to Angela, but the subject needed to change. Now.
"Tell your Mom I'm going to try and come back to work as soon as I can."
"Sure. No worries. Things are pretty slow until the weather gets a bit warmer."
Slamming my locker door shut, I gave Mike what was, in theory, a smile. "Later."
"Have a good weekend, Bella."
Mike's well wishes proved futile, as the following two and a half days consisted of my stomach, heart, and brain twisting themselves into knotted bewilderment.
Things started out pleasantly mundane. On Friday night, I laid in front of the couch for hours, feigning interest in the television while I really focused on the knowledge that Edward was likely somewhere nearby, his eyes possibly trained on the window framing my position in the living room. I ate Cheetos by the handful and convinced myself the Day-Glo orange stains on my lips and fingers were a blessing, that Edward would see me in my slovenly, sweat-pantsed state and lose interest in me on the spot.
Unfortunately, my wounded yet fearless heart sputtered fervently over my mental admission of the fact he was interested. Very interested.
I kept running from that idea, from the memories of the last time I'd been confronted with it on the day before, but it dogged me. Ferociously. Until finally, a part of my subconscious broke through and told me to stop hiding.
He wants you, idiot. Edward wants you.
I blinked slowly, my eyelids weighing a metric ton. Fighting against the inevitable, I tried to block out the icy blaze of his lips on my forehead and his promise to wait for me.
A million fleeting, ever-changing emotions flickered like a strobe light through my brain. Yet somehow, in that moment, I remembered the pleading look in his eyes and the earnestness in his voice. I couldn't begin to truly hear him as he dropped bomb after emotional bomb on me in the park, but now, as his words replayed in my memory, a part of me wanted to believe him.
And that scared me to death.
I didn't know what exactly Edward wanted. I didn't even know which version of him was the real thing—the sweet, brilliant Edward from six months ago; the arrogant, emotionally unavailable Edward from the forest; or the Edward who stalked me and spied on me in my sleep. One of those Edwards wanted me in his life. The question was which one.
Now that the truth—whatever it was—was volleying around in my head, I knew I couldn't bury this thing that was still happening between Edward and me, so I buried my face in a throw pillow instead. Crushing orange dust into the coarse fibers of the upholstery, I attempted to pound out my frustration by slapping my palms against the couch. It didn't work, and eventually my body gave up and forced me into an uneasy slumber.
I woke to the blue glow of early dawn and Charlie hovering over me, the corners of his eyes creased with worry from under the brim of his fishing hat.
"Bells? What on earth…?"
I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. "Die Hard marathon last night on TBS. I guess I passed out."
His head tilted, a surefire sign of Charlie's skepticism, but he didn't probe further. "Your friend's here."
Alice bounced into the living room with a box of doughnuts in one hand, an expensive-looking purse slung over her arm, and a too-chipper smile lighting up her features. "Thanks, Chief Swan. I hope the fish are biting for you this morning."
I squinted at my watch and groaned. It was just after six. Charlie thanked Alice between bites for the doughnuts and tossed another furtive glance at me as he headed out the door.
The red flash of brake lights through the window was Alice's cue. "I brought you a present."
I wasn't all that hungry, but I nodded at the box of pastries and mumbled my thanks.
Alice waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, those were for your dad. An overload of carbohydrates to dull his suspicions over me showing up so early on a Saturday. I foresaw him asking less questions if—"
"—he was well-fed," I finished. "Yeah, I use that trick quite a bit myself."
We exchanged knowing looks, and it occurred to me how easy this was. We hadn't talked much the day before when Alice had dropped by before to school to patch me up, likely because she was trying to give me space. Now, though, in the haze of sleep, I'd forgotten to push Alice away. In contrast to my ogre-esque personality of late, I found that I didn't regret my slip up.
"Anyway," Alice broke the comfortable silence and reached into her purse. "This is yours." She smirked and amended, "Well, actually, this is just as much as a gift for me as it is for you."
A small, flat package was thrust into my lap. Dumbfounded, I tore at the wrapping. My reflection stared back at me from the smooth, plastic casing of a CD. "What the hell, Alice? The Greatest Hits of ABBA?"
She giggled, and I found it comforting. It felt normal, and not the mind-numbingly wrong kind of normal. The right kind, a weird sort of normal, the kind of normal meant just for me.
Alice's laughter faded. She studied me for a moment, as if nervous to speak. Finally, she said, "Edward's worried about you, you know. He might not creep into your room anymore—"
Mortified, I interrupted, "You knew about that?"
"—but he's going to be out there, watching over you. His world is you. It always has been, ever since you two met. Especially now, Bella—after everything that's happened—he's worried about you."
His world was me. I felt the color drain from my cheeks and couldn't determine how I felt about Edward's continued refusal to back down. After the park, he'd been nervous and slightly less in my face, but I refused to think about what sort of behavior the future might bring.
Alice didn't notice how distracted I'd become and kept talking excitedly. "Anyway, I don't know how much you know about vampires, but we have spectacular hearing capabilities. Like, if you cough, we can hear you from a mile away."
"Awesome," I choked out, mystified as to why this somehow earned me permanent access to a musical holocaust of tooth-rottingly saccharine lyrics and grating disco beats.
Alice leaned toward me, menace and enthusiasm alight in her eyes. "Edward hates ABBA. More than he hates humans who crack their knuckles and the works of Danielle Steele." She tapped the CD case with her index finger. "Play this—at any volume—and it will annoy every last bit of sanity out of him." And then she winked.
"I don't want to torture him or…whatever. I just want him to go away. I'm not really looking to…"
Alice shrugged. "Edward's glued to you, Bella," she said simply. "He's going to be lurking around out there anyway. You might as well have some fun with him."
"He and I are not on good terms right now. I can't 'have some fun' with him."
"Sure you can. Besides, Emmett will adore you for it. He plays this album all the time as revenge for Edward's constant mental invasions."
"I'm sorry?"
"Emmett. Our brother."
I stared at her, my face awash in idiocy.
"You met him once."
"No, I know, but—"
"You'll see him again. Soon." Her smile weakened into an expression of wistfulness. "The future hasn't changed. It's still the same, Bella…for now."
I ignored her cryptic mind games and protested, "Look, Alice, I don't want to play games with Edward." Even though that's exactly what we were doing. With his stupid collar-flipping move in the courtyard and my not-so-sneaky peeks at him during lunch, we were playing our own bizarre, ropeless tug of war.
Alice studied me for a second, a knowing expression crossing her face. "You don't want him to disappear, not really."
It was too dangerous to think about what I wanted. Rather, I found it easier to say, "I think I might. I mean, he lied to me, so…"
"So?" she asked cautiously.
"So that's not okay."
"You're right. It's not. He's my brother. I adore him, but I know he's not without his flaws." She took the CD off my lap and moved it to the coffee table, a gesture symbolic of the serious shift in our conversation. "He hurt you. You need space. I get that."
My mouth opened and closed without ever intending to say a word.
We moved to my bedroom, where Alice changed my bandages without much conversation. The topic of Edward never reemerged but always charged the silence. Alice apologized for waking me and explained she and Jasper were getting an early start on their weekend hunting trip near the Canadian border. She promised to come back Sunday afternoon and perform another bandage swap.
Once she'd gone, I realized how much I'd wanted her to stay. I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason until the phone rang Saturday evening.
When Charlie announced the caller wanted me, I knew it could only be one person.
"Hey, Mom."
"You still sound terrible, sweetheart. Are you sleeping?" Since Thanksgiving, even before last week's "accident," Renee began every call like this. Her voice was always too careful; I could practically hear eggshells crunch as her words poured through the receiver.
"Trying to."
She paused, likely searching for a new interrogation tactic. Our conversations were always stilted now, with me editing out the supernatural facets of my world and Renee growing increasingly frustrated over my nondisclosure. For the first time in my life, I had to keep elephant-sized secrets from my mom. Calling her had once been a means of finding my sanity; now it only reminded me of how much everything had changed and how nothing in my life made any sense.
"Charlie said you fell asleep on the couch last night."
"I was watching television," I hedged.
"He also said you were having nightmares, that he had to move your dresser in front of the window because you were afraid…"
"Everything's fine. I just had a bad day at school, and it spilled over into my dreams. This one dream was very…real. I just overreacted, that's all."
"A bad day? What happened?" The woman gave up on nothing.
Though, to give her credit, Renee's persistence worked. I felt guilty, so I threw her a bone by way of generic details. "Just the stinging, my back hurt."
"Your father should have never let you go back so soon—"
"No, it's not that. Not really." I sighed and against my better judgment kept going. I needed my mom, though she could never know the full explanation why. "Do you—" my head screamed to stop this topic in its infancy, but I ignored reason and plunged ahead. "Do you remember that…boy? The one I told you about? The one I used to kind of like?"
Kind of like. Less than two minutes in, I was already lying; this discussion was on the fast track to being a huge mistake.
"Mr. Sparks." I heard the smile in her voice and more than ever, I missed seeing Renee's knowing grins in the flesh. "Of course I remember him."
"I told him how I felt."
Renee sighed. "On top of all this? Bella, you've been through so much this week. You're a brave girl—"
"In November, Mom. I told him in November."
Silence held for a beat before Renee implored, "You never told me. Why?"
"I was embarrassed." Humiliated. "He…told me he didn't feel the same. And he wasn't nice about it." After all this time, my voice still shook at the recollection.
"Then he's an idiot."
I continued, equating my admissions to ripping off a Band-Aid—they needed to be fast, without hesitation to minimize the sting. "On Thursday, he told me he lied." I closed my eyes as I recounted it aloud for the first time. "He cornered me and wouldn't let me walk away until he pretty much told me that he had feelings for me, too. That he always had."
"Oh, baby." Renee spoke as if he'd done it to her. "Why would he lie to you?"
Because he was a vampire who may want to kill me more than kiss me. Because he was over 100 years old and set in his ways. Because, quite possibly, I scared the hell out of him. None of these answers, however, were appropriate for Renee and her all-human universe, so I could only give her an obligatory, weak response. "I don't know, Mom."
I pictured her in Jacksonville, in the tropical-print recliner she purchased at a garage sale in celebration of all things Florida, postulating over the limited facts I'd allowed her. Moments passed before she spoke again. Softly, clearly stuck in a fog of romanticism, she mused, "Maybe he thought he wasn't good enough for you. Maybe he was scared of being so vulnerable. There are dozens of reasons, Bell. Boys at that age spook so easily."
My stomach clenched. "I guess."
"I don't need to guess; I know. You're something special. He's got to be crazy about you." I closed my eyes and thanked God she couldn't see my face. I felt even more gratitude for that small favor when Renee added, "And Bella?"
"Yeah?"
"It takes a lot of courage to own up to your own mistakes and tell the truth."
Because bitterness was easy and forgiveness was rocket science, I shot back, "He lied, Mom. There's nothing courageous about that."
"But he told you he cares about you, Bella."
Memories of my childhood paraded through my head, all focusing on the men Renee had fawned over and—with the possible exception of Phil—the inevitable heartbreak that followed when they didn't produce the metaphorical glass slipper and subsequent promise of happily ever after.
My woe-is-me routine was cut off by Renee asking, "Do you still love—"
"I'm getting tired. I think we need to talk about something else." A sudden onslaught of jitters sent my limbs shaking.
"Sure, honey." I didn't understand why Renee didn't push the issue as she normally would until she added, "You've had one hell of a week."
I had nothing to say to that, as I could elaborate on nothing.
"You sure you're feeling okay? How's your back looking?"
I had no idea. I hadn't looked at it since the night I came home from the hospital. "Slowly getting better."
Renee sighed. "You've been so brave, Bella."
I pursed my lips in silent protest. Most of my time was spent moping on the couch, and I was fairly certain no one ever won the Medal of Honor for that.
Renee continued to bestow me credit I didn't deserve. "You've always been so strong, and I just want you to know how proud I am of you. And how much I miss you."
My voice was small, yet it still echoed through Charlie's tiny, empty kitchen. "I miss you, too."
"I should be there with you. What kind of mother am I—"
"A great one. Stop worrying, I'm fine."
"You always manage to push through, don't you, sweetie?"
My face scrunched up. I was thankful that she couldn't see the soundless tears fighting their way to down my cheeks. She was about to recount the story of me repeatedly trying to master riding a bike despite countless falls and scrapes or possible the tale of the time I walked home from school on a sprained ankle. I couldn't let her compare my childhood "heroics" to this. I was innocent then, and those so-called accomplishments were effortless. No longer wasI a wide-eyed kid, and this wasn't just me picking myself back up after a minor tumble. In a voice that wasn't my own, I told Renee, "It's just a couple of scratches. No big deal."
"God, a bear attack. Only you, Bella." Her tone was too light, and I knew Charlie had sugarcoated reports of my injury to keep Renee sane from four time zones away.
She usually saw right through my lies. But not this time. I'd been given so many reasons to lie in recent months that I must be improving. I couldn't bring myself to feel proud of this accomplishment. Instead, it made me sick and just as ugly on the inside as I'd recently become on the outside.
"I'm getting tired, Mom." Another lie, coming off the tip of my tongue reflexively, as unplanned as breathing. "I should go."
"Of course. Call me if you need anything. And get some rest. You sound tired."
I exhaled. "You already said that."
"Well, you do. Night, Bella."
"Good night, Mom."
I sat the phone down on its cradle, but fragments of recent conversations still rang in my ears. The voices blended, the messages mixed, and I felt like screaming to silence them. As a compromise, my memory focused on just one, the easiest: Alice.
Alice was the only person from whom I had nothing to hide and also the only one against whom I held no grudge. With Alice, there were no lies by omission or running away for the sake of self-preservation.
I missed her, especially after another day spent alone with only a veiled conversation with my mother to provide me with a semblance of company. I thought replaying my earlier conversation with Alice would make me less lonely, but halfway through my mental Cliffs Notes version of her words this morning, I stumbled upon another realization.
Edward was out there, watching over me, she'd said. Right before she'd mentioned that vampires have superhuman hearing. Which meant he'd heard my little chat with Renee. Word for word.
I panicked for a second and then realized I'd said nothing that he didn't already know.
Needing a distraction, I went to my bedroom, tossed Alice's ABBA CD into the closet, and settled into my bed with my battered copy of The Complete Works of Shakespeare. I skipped straight past Romeo and Juliet and began Act I of Hamlet. Within minutes, I was sound asleep because a girl can only take so much to-be-or-not-to-be angst before she passes out in frustration.
At 1AM, the painkillers' effectiveness waned, and I woke up in agony, my back pressed into the mattress. As I rolled over onto my stomach after ensuring my bandages hadn't shifted, an echoing pain stabbed up my spine. I rose to a sitting position and took the sedatives Dr. Cullen prescribed. I settled back onto my stomach and just as my meds started to set in, I realized my feet were cold. At the bottom of my bed, the sheets rode up above my calves, the quilt from the hall closet folded atop my dresser, just where I'd left it the day before.
Apparently, I didn't need a quartet of polyester-clad Swedes to keep Edward at bay.
X X X
Alice fixed me up Sunday afternoon. We talked about trivial topics and watched television for almost two hours. When she left, I initiated a hug and she accepted it without turning it into a Very Special Moment. For that reason alone, I could have hugged her all over again.
Charlie made dinner that night. He burned the beans and the hamburgers were as hard as hockey pucks, but the effort brought a smile to my face. I offered to clean up, but Charlie helped anyway.
As we cleared the table, the phone rang.
"That would be your mom. She said she'd call at seven."
I rolled my eyes. "The twenty-four hour status checks are totally unnecessary."
"She worries about you, kiddo." Charlie ruffled my hair. "Parents do that."
I smiled sheepishly at him and lifted the phone off the receiver. "Hey, Mom."
Silence.
"Hello? Mom? You there?"
The caller took in a sharp gasp of air, and eked out one syllable that told me he was not my mother. "Bells?"
I slammed the telephone back onto its receiver, a ring echoing into the silence of Charlie's kitchen.
Charlie was staring at me.
"Not Mom," I whispered.
But he knew that already. "I told that kid not to call here anymore."
Anymore.
I looked back at Charlie with questioning eyes.
"I know you aren't on the best terms with Jake. Billy said something about it weeks ago, about how he told Jake to back off…" Charlie fumbled with the dinner plates. China clattered hollow against the tabletop. "He kept calling and calling, and I figured if the kid's own dad thought he was being too pushy…"
I hadn't paid much attention to the phone all week; usually I was too drugged up either from actual medication or from watching mindless television programs for hours to notice.
The phone rang again. I winced, and Charlie wasted no time. Without looking, he picked it up and slammed it right back down on its cradle. Then, he waited. When it rang anew, he narrowed his eyes, took the phone, and walked into the next room, where he said something indiscriminate before a single beep signaled he'd ended the call on the portable handset.
He rejoined me in the kitchen, looked me straight in the eye, and said, "He won't call here again. I promise."
I rocked back on my heels and prayed for my solace of numbness. I couldn't—not now. Not yet.
"Dad, I need some air." My voice was raspy and broken, but Charlie got the message. "Tell Mom I'll call her tomorrow."
I was out the front door and hunched on the front stoop before he could answer.
My breathing was ragged, shallow. Images of Jake intermingled with stabbing sensations along my spine as I remembered. Jacob, my Jake, the sweet boy with an enthusiastic smile, my cohort in years' worth of inside jokes. Then another Jake, cocky and too forward. Then…something else. With hair. Claws. Teeth. My face in the sand. His weight on me as…my back…shredded. My body ruined.
I stood and paced the length of the driveway, forcing memories I wasn't ready to relive back into the dark recesses of my mind. I bent over, ignoring the limitations of my stitches, and filled my fists with gravel. I imagined boulders instead of small, insignificant pebbles as I chucked piece by piece into the darkness, my body releasing the rage my mind couldn't handle. I threw stones into the night until I ached and panted and heaved.
When energy abandoned me and pain rippled beneath my shoulder blades, I sank to my knees and looked past the lawn to the forest's edge.
Edward was out there. Watching. My body sensed him even if my eyes saw only branches and blackness. And amidst my panic, my fear, my rage…I couldn't bring myself to hate him.
I'd looked down upon him and claimed to despise him because he lied to me. As if I were somehow better. My stomach fell to somewhere below my knees. I'd been lying, both in the words I spoke and the words I did not, to my own mother and father. To myself, the lies were blatant and began months ago. I'd also lied to Edward when I told him that I had no feelings him. I did exactly what he'd done months ago. I pretended I was some holier-than-thou purveyor of truth when I was really a delusional, hypocritical liar.
In the distance, the trees were still. Edward, wherever he was, wasn't showing himself. He gave me space, signaling a ceasefire of sorts between us.
I longed for a parallel universe free of the past and future. Where I could just talk to him like we used to all those months ago. Where we could simply live in the moment. Once, Edward had seen right through me, to the naked insecurities belonging to the girl I was and the strength of the woman I longed to be.
I missed it. I missed the Edward of those dated, isolated moments. Now more than ever.
Because unlike Charlie, unlike my mom, unlike Mike Newton and everyone else at school, I didn't have to hide the truth from Edward. Granted, maybe I wanted to hide from him. But, if I chose to, I could tell him anything. Like Alice, he knew the truth about the not-so-mythical world in which we lived. I could resent him and push him away, but if I needed him, there was a chance he'd be there. At least, if he was truly the boy who'd known me better than I'd known myself. If he wasn't a monster at all. If he was just…Edward.
I didn't know if I could forgive Edward or ever trust him, but I did know, somehow, that he understood. When no one else did, Edward understood.
The realization stung. But it didn't ring false.