BELLA POV

Edward Cullen. Cullen, Edward. Focus, Bella. What are you doing? Focus.

"We will be doing Classic intensive in this course, starting with early twentieth century classics, such as Steinbeck and Plath, so make sure to pick up a copy of The Grapes of Wrath and The Bell Jar." Mr. Montgomery's voice faded in and out as I forced myself to pay attention.

Edward Cullen and his shiny bronze hair. Edward Cullen and the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Edward Cullen and his gorgeous green eyes.

It was like middle school all over again. Alice sat beside me, scribbling down our reading list in her uniform script as Mr. Montgomery droned on and on while I fantasized like a pubescent tween about her twin brother. It was beyond creepy. And of all people, I needed to pay extra close attention this first week since I was the new kid. I already kind of ruined everything with the talk of chinchilla rain sticks and stealing Jessica Stanley's seat at lunch. And I'd tripped and fallen down the concrete steps leading to the parking lot after school. My car wouldn't start, and Emmett Cullen had to give me a ride home. It was beyond uncomfortable, considering I didn't even know him, and my arm was throbbing from the spill I took the entire way. Emmett was nice enough, though, making amiable conversation about off-roading and his favorite bands, where he wanted to go to college and his favorite professional sports teams. Alice and Edward had some sort of family business to take care of, so I reluctantly tore my eyes away from Edward's face and climbed into Emmett's menacing white Jeep. My weathered, red Chevy stood alone in the parking lot, and I mentally kicked myself for not having Charlie check the engine out before I tried to drive it to school. This morning I'd had to swallow my pride by accepting a ride in the cruiser.

"Towards the end of first semester you'll need to bring in your collection of shorter stories from the eighteenth and nineteenth century. We're doing things a little out of order. You can either buy those at Thunderbird and Whale in Port Angeles or check them out at the library. Make sure to have all of the Hemingway items by second quarter." Mr. Montgomery was cut off from his speech by the shrill ring of the bell, and my mind was free to think about Edward Cullen all that I wanted.

Edward Cullen shirtless.

Think of the devil, and the devil shall appear.

"Hey ladies, miss me?" Edward planted a kiss on Alice's cheek as he popped up behind us, skipping to my side. Yes.

"Could you be any more attention-seeking?" Alice asked, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, actually," Edward replied, flicking her arm.

"So, turning the subject away from you for once," Alice snorted, "I think we should hang out at Rose's after school today. You in, Swan?"

"Who, me?" I squeaked, hugging my English text to my chest.

"Do you know of any other Swans?" Edward mocked rhetorically. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, sure. I'm in."

Why not?

**

"Chief Swan, speaking." I had called my father as soon as last hour let out after my second, treacherous day of school, half hoping that he'd let me go over to Rose's to hang out with Edward and half hoping that he wouldn't. Because, let's face it, I was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Dad, it's me," I sighed into the receiver.

"Oh, hey, kiddo. What's going on? Is there an emergency?"

"Nope. Just wondering if I could hang out with some kids from school for a few hours or so." I tried to make my voice sound confident and certain, but truthfully, I was scared out of my mind. Primarily because the festivities were being held at the home of the two most terrifying people I'd ever laid eyes on. And also because I wasn't yet past my awkward stage, what with being new and all.

"Uh, yeah, I guess that's fine. Whose house?" It was like Charlie to be skeptical. He was chief of police, after all.

"You know Rosalie and Jasper Hale? Their house." Charlie hummed.

"They're good kids. Be careful with the older boy, though. He's a little funny…" Charlie didn't have to elaborate for me to know what he meant.

"I know, dad. I'll be careful. Alice says she'll drop me by home after." I thought again of my Chevy sitting lifeless in my driveway.

I had moved to Washington to live with my dad, and I was still trying to decide whether or not it was a good idea. My mom, Renee, had married a dirt bag who thought he was some expert ball player, so she was chasing him around the country and boosting his already soaring ego. I honestly couldn't stomach it. Regardless of the fact that Phil is almost ten years my mother's junior, he was always sort of rude to me, bossing me around and telling me what to do regardless of the fact that he is barely even ten years older than me. So I moved out. Charlie was ecstatic, clearing out my childhood room for me and even going as far as buying me a new car, despite the small detail that it was now unusable. I'd never factored Edward Cullen into the equation. In fact, I'd never factored in any other people, period. I was a loner by nature.

I had stood there on the first day in the courtyard like a complete moron, rambling on and on about my stupid, boring life while Edward stood there like a shrine to some forgotten pagan god of beauty. It was beyond embarrassing. I had always been thought of as weird at my school in Phoenix, and although I had a small group of friends, I saw how they'd look at me sometimes. Down their noses, or out of the corners of their eyes, in complete and total condescension. And right then, that was how Edward Cullen was looking at me. My cheeks flamed red with an uncomfortable blush, and I prayed that he would let it go and forget that I even said anything.

I was just talking about how my mom and I used to make rain sticks out of paper towel rolls and chinchilla droppings. Seriously, Bella?

I'd tried to redeem myself throughout the rest of the first day and the second, but I wasn't sure how much progress I was making. I sat next to Edward at the lunch table under everyone's watching eyes, even though he didn't speak one word to me. I had pre-Cal with him before lunch and Government after that, but still there was no progress on the talking thing. So maybe the little ounce of hope that I held for Edward Cullen ever possibly being interested was all in vain. I was…well…me, and he was…the complete opposite. I didn't even really know him, not at all. Probably because I was the Weird Chinchilla Girl, and he was too good for that.

EPOV

It wasn't a good idea to go to Rose's after school. I eyed Alice carefully, trying to send her some creepy twin telepathic message that had seemed to work with Esme that one time, but I guess it didn't work as well as I'd thought it would.

School was a nice escape. I could go there, be "Edward Fucking Cullen" with the shiny bronze hair and good grades, and kind of forget about my life for seven hours. It was nice. But then, after that, I had to start dealing with life. And that part fucking sucked.

"Could you be any more attention-seeking?" Alice had asked, her eyes rolling around once as she sneered at me.

"Yes, actually," I snorted. I gave her arm a flick for good measure.

"So, turning the subject away from you for once," Alice laughed derisively, "I think we should hang out at Rose's after school today. You in, Swan?" Bad idea. First of all, Bella at Rose's house was like a deer in the middle of the road on a dark night. I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous even entertaining the notion was. Secondly, I just wanted to go home. Where Alice, Emmett, and I should have been.

"Who, me?" Bella almost squealed, pulling her books in towards her tits.

"Do you know of any other Swans?" I chuckled, trying to avert my eyes from her fairly nice chest. Bella snickered. I hope it wasn't because she caught me looking. But in the back of my mind, I hoped she'd say no. I hoped she'd say that she had other things to do, because her confirmation would just motivate Alice to spend hours upon hours wasting our dad's life at Rose's.

"Yeah, sure. I'm in." Fuck you, Bella Swan.

**

There had been a pounding at my door, and the color of the light that sifted through the wood blinds indicated that it was very, very early. I rubbed my eyes with my fists, rolling over to face my bedroom door.

"What?" I called groggily, swinging my legs of the side of my wrought-iron bed. 4:45 AM, my clock read.

"Open the door, dude, we've gotta go," Emmett called in a deep, clear voice. He sounded like he'd been awake for a while.

Christ.

It was Wednesday, and I'd forgotten all about the stupid father/son bonding shit we were supposed to do that day. I had no idea where we were going, just that we were taking the boat out, and I didn't know where we'd take it that required consciousness at that ungodly hour. We obviously weren't going anywhere close, like Cape Alava or Cape Flattery.

"We're going to Cape Disappointment," Emmett answered my question unknowingly. "We'll either go there or drive down closer to Portland to Cape Lookout." Portland? Five hours in a fucking car with Carlisle. Oh, joy.

I dressed in a hurry, opting for a black hoodie and dark jeans to fit the weather. How we were going to enjoy the boat in the middle of a fucking hurricane, I still wasn't sure. Emmett was elated, of course. The kid literally skipped down the stairs, whistling. I wished I had his enthusiasm, but, then again, I didn't. Because it was fucking annoying.

"Ah, Edward," Carlisle called when I padded barefoot into the kitchen. "Have a waffle," he offered.

"Um, okay." Why did talking to my own dad feel so unnatural? He looked at me carefully with his bright blue eyes, scrutinizing my face.

"So, Dad, what's it going to be?" Emmett's voice interrupted Carlisle's evaluation of my facial hair, thankfully. "Disappointment or Lookout?" Carlisle chewed on his bottom lip in thought.

"Disappointment's probably our best bet. It will save us an hour in the car and I heard it's not supposed to rain there today. Besides, I'd rather stay in-state." I concurred. This whole thing was already too much for me, and I didn't know if I could handle Oregon today.

The car ride was long and toiling, but Em obviously had no trouble communicating with our father. Em's hatred of Carlisle had kind of spurned on mine—Emmett influenced me in more ways that he thought. As a young teen Emmett got crazier and crazier and Carlisle got angrier and angrier. Emmett was caught with marijuana possession when he was in tenth grade, the same year I made Jessica Stanley my fuck buddy, and Carlisle had been so hostile about the drug thing that even I began to hate him for it. Not that I hadn't loathed him enough as it was. But the scene before me, as I sat in the back seat of Carlisle's Denali, was a complete mystery. Emmett was friendly enough. People always liked him for his optimism and his dimples, despite the fact that he was huge and could probably kill a man with his bare hands. But until very recently, this friendliness was never extended towards our dad. It made me feel lonely. Bitter, party of one.

It was raining, like I'd thought it would be, and luckily I'd fallen asleep in the car to avoid unnecessary discomfort. But Carlisle took the boat out barely even far enough into the black water, the coast still fully visible, before he turned off the engine and sat in the captain's chair.

"Edward, Emmett, sit down."

Normally I would have replied with a nice, "fuck no." But a coldness in his voice collapsed my knees out from under me in obedience.

"'Sup, Daddy-O?" Emmett sang, grinning.

"Just sit, Emmett." Plop.

Carlisle took in a single shaky breath as his eyes meandered over the coastline, his pupils very far away as if he was only with us in body.

"There's something you need to know," he breathed quietly. I almost couldn't hear him over the sloshing of the waves against the boat.

"What is it?" I blurted. He was making me anxious. It irritated me.

"It might be hard for you to understand, so I'm going to try and ease you into it," Carlisle answered, locking my gaze with his. I quickly went over my small list of possible things that required Carlisle to create such a diversion as a 'bonding day,' again realizing how ridiculous most of them were. Homicide, drug scandal, prostitutes...

"We're not children, Carlisle. I think we can handle it. What, did we lose the house? Did you get fired? What's going on?"

"Calm down, Edward. Nothing is happening like that. The house is paid off and my job in the hospital is pretty much a solid thing. None of this is about anything material." I laughed at him then.

"Everything that has to do with you is material, Carlisle." My voice was cold and unrelenting, and I saw my father cringe away from the intensity and hollowness of my tone. Funny how we were boating at Cape Disappointment. It was almost an omen.

"Ease up, Edward. Don't make this into a scene," Emmett chastised, his shoulders hunched over.

"Damn it, Emmett, grow a pair. Carlisle knows you hate him, too," I spat. I was sick of Emmett pretending to be Carlisle's best friend today. It was making me nauseous. Carlisle's face drained, turning into an even paler white than normal. His blue eyes were swimming with emotion. I almost felt guilt for it, but the only thought that came to my mind was the thickness of his study door.

"I know that I haven't been a perfect father to you boys. This fact has not escaped my attention. And honestly, I hate myself for it," Carlisle shouted in a voice that was stronger than his eyes were. "I know you hate me. I see it in your faces every time you look at me. I know. But I try. And I try fucking hard."

"Don't try to justify your shitty parenting skills with the fact that you try, Carlisle," I yelled, shooting out from my seat with my fists clenched. The wind was ripping through my hair, shooting cold rain into my face. Emmett tugged at the hem of my hoodie.

"Sit down, man. Cool it," he mumbled. I tore away from his grip.

"I don't understand what the deal is, Edward. I tried to take you guys out today because I have something really damned important to say. And this? This is what I get?" Carlisle's eyes swam with tears, and his lower lip was trembling. It only fueled my anger.

"Oh how considerate of you, father," I snarled. "How nice that you would think of your own fucking kids for two seconds rather than just yourself."

"I think about you, always," he whimpered. "I work so much so I can give you everything that you deserve. You have so much potential, and I want you to be able to take advantage of that."

"Bullshit," I spat, turning my face away from him. Emmett had decided to just keep his mouth shut.

"It's true, Edward. I love you. I love you so much, that you don't understand."

"Then why don't you ever tell me that? Why do you come home every night at hide in your fucking office? Huh? Why? Why don't you ever ask me to hang out with you and why don't you give me an internship at your office like you gave Em? Why don't you look at me like you look at Alice? Am I not fucking good enough?" Fucking traitor tears.

"Edward," Carlisle said softly, "I never knew that you feel that way."

"Well, I do. And now you know."

It was then that Carlisle looked up from the floor at me, his eyes suddenly hard and his jaw set in a hard line. He glanced at Emmett for a few silent moments, and then back at me, before opening his mouth to speak.

"I took you out today to tell you that I have stage three lyphoma. I'm going to die."

**

I had started a sort of routine the following Thursday night. I sat in the hallway after my father came home from work and listened to him in his study. I had already cut a hole in the door, so that was helpful, as juvenile and immature as it was. He made no sounds except for occasionally humming to himself or clearing his throat, and I wondered if he was afraid to cry. He had entered the house Wednesday evening after we found out and nearly sprinted to his bedroom, undoubtedly to whine to Esme, when I found the wood saw in the garage.

The office door. It was the thing that had separated my father from me for seventeen years that I could never have back. I couldn't blame the hospital, because it was admirable that Carlisle spent his life saving other people. Kind, even. But now, my anger was at a two-inch thick slab of wood, and I sobbed without restraint as I kicked and cut away at it until a gaping hole dominated its face. It laughed at me all the while, pushing me closer to insanity as I screamed and shaved away at it. If Carlisle heard, he never let on. His bedroom doors stayed safely shut, and I wanted to cut a fucking hole in those, too. Emmett had opened the car door before it was even at a complete stop as we'd pulled in and started off towards the woods behind our house. I was thankful that at least he wasn't there to witness my temper tantrum. I collapsed beside the mess I'd made, winding my fingers into my hair and letting out years and years of fucking pain and anxiety. It felt sickly relieving, like peeing after a ten-hour car trip. I'd been so saved up all these years, so reserved and fucking pissed off at my father. And my father was dying. I cried as I thought about him and his pale skin that I had inherited, remembering birthdays and other holidays that Carlisle had been a permanent fixture during. I remembered Career Day and how he'd been gone while the other boys laughed and me and Alice. But I also remembered when I cut my ankle open during my Little League baseball game when I was seven, and how Carlisle had bought me boxes and boxes of different band-aids so I could change them out as often as I wanted until I healed. I remembered the card he gave me on my seventeenth birthday, and how he hadn't even signed it or put it in an envelope. I remembered the six hundred-dollar bills that had been shoved haphazardly inside, and I remembered wanting to slap him. But then I remembered when my puppy died when I was ten and how Carlisle had let me cry on his shoulder for hours and hours.

Carlisle showed me love the only ways he knew how. He was naturally reserved, but I always expected more out of him. Was that wrong of me? Was I the one who was fucking messed up? This was somehow my fault. Carlisle had cancer because somebody was trying to teach me a lesson. Every door slam and "fuck you" repeated in my head just then, until a pair of pink ballet flats appeared in my line of sight.

Suddenly—and I wasn't sure how I managed to do it so quickly—I was on my feet, glaring at my sister's eyes that were identical to mine. I smacked my stupid fucking girl tears away with the back of my hand.

"What the fuck, Alice?" I screamed at her, slightly rattling the picture frames on the wall behind her head. She had known the whole fucking time. That realization hit on the grueling ride home from the cape. It explained her absence and her contrived and sudden 'illness' perfectly. It explained how she didn't bathe for two days and it explained the blank check and the fucking pizza. Alice's eyebrows screwed up in obviously feigned confusion. She knew exactly what I was talking about.

"What are you talking about, Edward?" she asked, setting her five million shopping bags down on the floor. "And what the hell did you do to Carlisle's door?" I ignored her, suddenly remembering what a psychopath I must have looked like next to the giant hole I'd made.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I pleaded, wincing at the whining tone of my voice. "Why didn't you tell me? You know I would tell you in a second. But you lied. You hid until my own father had to tell me he's fucking quitting on us." I choked out a sob, pulling away when Alice reached out to touch me.

"Edward, I didn't know—'' she started. I cut her off.

"Oh, hell Alice. You didn't know? You didn't know? So is that why you hid in your little bedroom from me for three days?" I cried. "Because you didn't know? God, you're a stupid bitch." I knew the last statement was going to hurt her, and I hoped that it would. I knew how Alice worked. Her eyes widened substantially, her mouth opening to form a small "O." I kicked the wood saw angrily, embarrassed that she'd found me like that. I rarely cried, and when I did, I sure as hell didn't want my sister to know about it. I realized then that Esme hadn't been home for Carlisle to complain to as I'd thought, and I heard her shut herself into her bedroom quietly. I appreciated that she left me and Alice alone to work out this kind of shit.

"I know you're angry. I know you're mad at me. But this isn't my fault," Alice said softly, tears spilling from her eyes. "I was supposed to find out from Mom today just like you, but she accidentally told." She tried to touch me again.

"That's no excuse," I whispered, stepping away from her reaching hand. "Did you do this to me because I went through your things? Because I told Jasper you accidentally hooked up with Mike Newton that one time? Is it because of the pink icing thing when we were thirteen?" My fucking girl tears were flowing freely by now.

"Of course not!" she blubbered. "This has nothing to do with anything you've ever done to me, or vice versa. This was me trying to protect you." Her voice grew quiet then. "I know you're my brother and you try to watch out for me, but this time, I had to try." I laughed without humor.

"God forbid little Edward has to deal with something that fucking sucks. Not that everything else in my life doesn't suck, too."

"I'm so sorry. I thought you'd understand. I'm so sorry." She backed away, leaving all of her Port Angeles shit, and closed her door. I fell asleep in the mess I'd made, waking only after Emmett nudged me into awareness the next morning.

**

I sat night after night, listening to Carlisle's sighs and movements through the hole in the door. I listened to him file papers, I listened to him audibly doubt my strength to my own brother, and above all, I listened to him cry.