Chapter 6 – Wednesdays

"This is seriously what you drive?" Edward asked with a laugh on Wednesday after school.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with Wanda."

"Wanda?" he snickered.

"Yes, Wanda, that is my truck's name. She's old but very reliable, and she's as tough as a tank. I could get into a head on collision with some intoxicated speeding idiot and still be okay."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Why would you be worried about something like that?"

My heart jumped. "M-My d-dad's a cop," I stuttered. "He's seen the result of drunk drivers countless times."

"Why'd you get weird all of a sudden?" he questioned.

"How am I being weird?"

"I don't know, you just are."

"There's nothing weird about wanting to be safe on the road," I argued.

"Yeah, but you're being weird about it. Besides, most teens are only concerned with going faster on the road, not being in an accident."

"Not many teenagers have cops for dads. Why are you making such a big deal about it?"

He stared at me for a minute, and then he shook his head. "I wouldn't have, but you got weird so obviously there's something more that you're not saying."

"You know, you're freaking paranoid," I told him bitterly.

"And you're extremely defensive. Usually when someone is so defensive they're hiding something."

"Everyone has secrets," I said evenly. "Some have more than others. I'm sure you can attest to that."

He laughed once humorlessly. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

I thought about spelling it out for him, but I decided fighting was pointless, so I sighed. "If you must know the truth about my comment, fine. My mom died in a car accident a while back, so my dad is a bit paranoid with me on the road."

"Oh," he said, taken aback. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"My mom's death was really hard on me and my dad…we don't talk about it, and I've never talked about it with anyone else. All my other friends know not to ask, so…" I shrugged.

I actually hated that I told him about her, and I regretted it immediately; it was too much information and far too personal then I ever wanted to go with him.

As if he could read my mind, he asked - "So why'd you decide to tell me?"

"You just said you wouldn't get into my truck until I explained."

"Yeah, but you could have just made something up. I was actually expecting you to say something like 'It was my dad's and he wanted me to learn humility by driving the beat-up clunker'."

"Oh." I felt like a moron. "Well, that too." He chuckled, so I forced myself to relax and let it go. "Come on, let's get going," I told him, finally getting into the truck to leave.

He got into the passenger side, but his humor over my truck only escalated. "Wow, is that radio from the seventies?"

I smirked and then turned it on. "Still works, so what difference does it make?"

"How can you hear it over the sound of the engine?" he teased as my truck roared to life.

"Hey, stop knocking Wanda. She's going to get offended and decide to stop working."

"And then who would take us home on Wednesdays?" he joked.

"Exactly."

For the thirteen minute drive to the Cullen house on the outskirts of town, Edward and I laughed and playfully fought over the radio station, and once again, we were back to being almost friends just as we were on our hike. I didn't understand his mood swings, but I decided it didn't really matter and I'd just take them as they came.

"Mrs. Geist would never know if we decided to use some superglue or zip ties in here," Edward said as we were trying to tie some of the sticks together with twine. "We're covering this all up anyway."

"We are not cheating," I said lightly. "We can figure this out."

Every time the damn thing would fall apart we'd just giggle, and I had to wonder if we were failing on purpose to prolong our time together. When we finally had enough for the day, Esme insisted that I stay for dinner and since Charlie was working the late shift and wouldn't be home anyway, I graciously agreed. Edward was quiet at the table with his new family, but it wasn't an attitude thing the way he was at school, it was as if he was just shy. The other Cullens would try to engage in conversations with him, but he'd just cower into himself and answer so softly that they could hardly hear him. None of them seemed surprised by his behavior, which pretty much meant he always acted in that way. It was sad really.

After dinner I expected Edward to practically rush me out of the house, but strangely, he didn't.

"So…do you want to do homework or something?" he asked awkwardly.

"Now? Here with you?" I asked to be sure that was what he meant.

"Yeah, I mean, if you want. You said your dad wouldn't be home till late, right? You can hang here as long as you want so you don't have to be alone….I mean, unless you have something better to do."

"I don't have anything else to do tonight," I admitted. "Actually, yeah, I'd like to stay a bit longer."

"Okay," he said, without a hint of attitude.

We had just eaten dinner, but Mrs. Cullen made us popcorn with M&Ms for a dessert/snack, and we did our homework together at the dining room table. Occasionally some of the other Cullen foster kids would peek in on us and snicker, but we were able to mostly ignore them. When I had a question on one of my math problems, Edward willingly offered his help, and when he was confused about a literature question, I assisted. I had to admit, it was nice having someone there to bounce ideas off of.

Around eight PM I decided to head home, though for a reason I didn't understand, Edward was troubled about it.

"It's dark," he said the moment I told him I needed to leave.

"Yeah. That tends to happen," I said slowly.

"What if your car breaks down on your way home?"

I laughed. "Now who's being weirdly cautious about cars?"

"I'm serious," he snapped at me. "Can your dad come pick you up?"

"No," I scoffed. "He's working. Besides, why would he when my truck is perfectly fine?"

He gritted his teeth. "I shouldn't have let you stay here this long."

"Edward, what's wrong?"

"It's dark!" he shouted unexpectedly, but then he paused and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment, which seemed to calm him down. "It's dark," he repeated but in a softer tone. "I mean, you said your dad's a cop right? You should know that a lot of shit happens after dark."

"I'll be fine," I said slowly.

He glared at me, but otherwise didn't argue anymore. In fact, he didn't say anything else at all, he just stood there so I said goodnight and left without another word from him. It was very strange, and yet, I had come to anticipate strange when it came to him.

The next day in school Edward, once again, refused to acknowledge me in school, but I simply shook my head and decided it wasn't worth stressing over. All week he ignored me, so I just ignored him right back, but when Wednesday rolled around again he was waiting for me by my truck after school, and he was back to acting like we were friends again. I just shrugged and went with it.

"You sure The Cullen's don't mind us messing up this place?" I asked as I looked around at the disaster we had made in the garage.

"Nah, this is my space anyway."

"What do you mean, your space?"

He huffed as if he was upset he mentioned it, so I didn't think he was going to explain, but thankfully he decided to. "My therapist said it would be therapeutic for me to…do art," he said reluctantly. "So the Cullen's gave me this part of the garage to work in."

"So it's like your art studio?" I asked while looking around and noticing all the white sheets covering stuff for the first time. "What's under those?"

"Nothing. It's just the crap I make. Really it's not a big deal."

Before he had a chance to stop me, I peeked under one. "Wow," I said while pulling the sheet all the way off. "I thought you only took art to be alone?" I asked with a smirk as I looked over his masterpiece.

"I did," he assured me. "And I found out it was a solo activity by doing it at home," he said like a smartass.

"Edward, this is really beautiful," I told him sincerely as I continued to look over it. It looked to be a ceramic abstract sculpture which twisted and contorted in a way that reminded me of the weathered cypress trees along the shore. It was both haunting and beautiful. "What was your inspiration for it?" I asked, hoping he didn't think I was prying.

He shrugged. Either he didn't even know himself, or he wasn't willing to tell me; both were understandable.

"Gosh it's too bad we can't use ceramics for our project, I'm sure you could make it amazing," I told him.

"Well, we can't use regular ceramics, but there are places we can find natural clay," he suggested. "It may be a little more difficult, but we can probably thin it out a little and make it work for what we need."

"Really? That would be perfect!"

Again I was invited to dinner and I graciously accepted. I stayed and did homework with Edward, but this time I made sure to head home before dark, just to avoid any arguments. Afterward he returned to virtually ignoring me at school, and then on the following Wednesday the routine started again. For the next two weeks it continued that way, but on the fourth Wednesday he told me something that would change everything….