(AN)-(Runs in with a pocket watch, dressed up as the white rabbit from Alice in Wonderland) I'm late...I'm late...for a very important date! My bad guys. I wanted to post Wed, but the combination of a slowly forming chapter, and a ton of pre-spring break homework kept me away. But the good news is I have all next week to write like a woman possessed.

When Life Gives You Lemons: Eat Them

I tremble they're gonna eat me alive
If I stumble they're gonna eat me alive
Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?
Beating like a hammer

~Help I'm Alive, Metric

Chapter 8- Dancing With Shadows

"Good Morning!"

The sudden explosion of Rosalie's voice from behind me caused my hands to lose their grasp on the container of eggs I'd been removing from the fridge. Styrofoam and hard shell crunched as they met with harsh linoleum tile. Bending down to inspect the damage, I groaned at the sight of cracked shells and seeping innards.

Again with the 'way too chipper for 7am' attitude. I dislike this new Rose. I want Rosalie McGrumpypants returned to me immediately.

"Oh shit, sorry, Bella. I thought you heard me coming." She frowned as I sent the eggs off to their trash-bag grave. "What were you going to make?"

"Pancakes."

Rose gave a scandalized gasp. "Pancakes? I don't think so, Missy. Pancakes are not conducive to weight loss. You sit your ass down and I'll show you what a proper breakfast looks like."

I did not like the sound of that.

My fears were confirmed when the bouncy blonde practically skipped over to the table and delivered me a cup of some sort of red liquid, and a bowl of some nasty looking health cereal. She informed me that my cup contained vegetable juice, and the cereal had lots of fiber.

The gaze I gave her was sulkiness incarnate. "Don't pancakes have fiber?"

She shook her head at me. "Sorry, Sweets, you are cut off from overly processed carbs and junk."

A complaint began to rise in my throat, but I swallowed it when I remembered the promise that I'd made to her last night. I had to take this seriously. My faults were many, but I'd be damned if I ever allowed myself to be a liar.

So I gagged the thick, hearty vegetable juice down and tried not to think about how much a fluffy, buttered pancake would be superior to it.

As my consciousness slowly awoke and caught up with the rest of me, I remembered that we were going to Emmett's tonight. Rose was chattering away excitedly; clearly looking forward to our evening plans. I did not share in her enthusiasm. I spent my day moping about the house, trying to avoid thinking about the impending rocket of doom that was speeding towards me.

Eventually my evasive attempts were picked up upon by Rosalie. I was actually attempting to talk myself into the proper state of sloth, to suggest that I wasn't feeling well. My specialty was the spaced out, sick stupor stare, as I affectionately titled it. But I hadn't quite gotten the 'my body feels like it's made of lead' look perfected when Rose barged into my room and shot me her 'I know what you're up to' look.

"What are you wearing tonight?"

This was Rose speak for 'Bitch, if you think you're getting out of this then you're out of your mind.' Which basically meant it was time to wave the white flag of surrender.

"Um…well I was going to go with clothes, but you know, maybe I should bring back the whole Adam and Eve fig-leaf look. You know how I like to be original."

"Can it, Smart Ass," she retorted playfully as she began searching through my clothes. She rifled through my drawers for a few minutes, and then made a squeal like she'd found gold. This struck me as odd, seeing as it was my clothes she was going through.

"Why haven't you worn this? The tag is still on!"

I looked up to find Rose inspecting a dressy black shirt. It had ruching along the sides, with light, fluttery sleeves that gave it a whimsical style, while the low neck line and sunburst of patterned blue, white, and gray rising from the left side and towards the center gave it a little edge. It wasn't the kind of thing I would wear. It took me a moment to even remember how I'd gotten it.

"It was a gift from Renee," I recalled out loud. "I don't know why I packed it. I must have accidentally thrown it in with something else."

"Well you're wearing it tonight."

I literally retched at the thought. "No, no way, never going to happen."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow at me. "You can not have a nice shirt like this and then never wear it. That's as sad as buying a ton of books from the store and leaving them on your shelf without reading them. It's bad consumerism, and it is unfair to this gorgeous piece of clothing. Wear it with your black jeans. Oh…and I have a pair of low heels you can borrow. Thank God we're the same shoe size."

I glared at the back of her head as she resumed her inspection of the shirt. "Are you attempting to make me an unwilling assassin? You know giving a klutz like me heels is like giving a serial killer a chainsaw, right?"

"Stop being so melodramatic and trust me! This is going to be fun."

She did not acknowledge the pillow that I threw at her head as she left the room. It still made me feel better though.

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When I was younger I had an intensely irrational fear of my shadow. In my tiny mind it was a dark and fraudulent predator, stalking me with sinister intent. Every time I saw it I would burst into hysterics. This went on until the age of five, despite explanation after explanation that I had no reason to be afraid. Finally, Renee tried a different tactic. She told me "Dance with your shadow, Sweetie, and then it won't seem so scary anymore." I found her words to be true. Fear was lost upon the blackness when it was imitating my graceless tippy toe spins. It's one of the only times in my life I can remember my mother giving me comfort.

With age I came to realize that it was her way of telling me to face my fears; to take the power back from the dark spots in my life. This trembling, and the fear rushing through my veins, was from the shadows of insecurity and doubt that haunted the corners of my mind. I needed to dance with them, face my fear and render the shadows harmless.

Of course things like this are easier said than done. As the car pulled up to it's destination, I tried not to let Rosalie see the fear that was poking its why through my thinly placed mask of composure.

Thump thump. Thump thump.

My heartbeats had turned into screams.

New environments can be intimidating enough for someone who has some semblance of self esteem. For me, it felt like every apprehensive step was leading me to certain doom. My game plan was as follows: get into the house without falling, find the corner farthest from where the rest of the people were, and stay there until it was time to go home.

The blood was rushing through me at warp speed, racing, fleeing, and panicking. Deep within my brain primal structures were screaming, 'Danger, run for it while you still can!'

I managed to follow Rosalie up the steps to the front door. She flashed me an excited grin before ringing the doorbell. "Just breathe, Bella."

That was easy for her to say. Her blonde hair curled along her collarbone enticingly, and her outfit accentuated the feminine curves underneath them. My clothes only heightened the message that I'd had one too many supersized meals in my life.

Rose was so excited, and I didn't want to screw up and embarrass her. I closed my eyes and filled my lungs with air, hoping maybe the particles of oxygen would contain the codes necessary to rewire my brain, and allow me to be something other than socially awkward.

Think calm thoughts, Bella. She said it would only be a couple of people.

I still had my eyes closed when the door swung open. The blast of noise that greeted me seemed a little excessive for a small gathering. When I allowed the lids of my eyes to flutter open, dread sprouted from my toes, grew up through my torso, and strangled my heart.

From my viewpoint on the front stoop, I could see that the interior of Emmett's house was currently playing host to at least 20 people. There wasn't time to panic, no time to run before I was spotted by an excessive amount of people. Rosalie grabbed my hand, and the terror allowed my body to become malleable to her demands, my feet ghosting behind her on autopilot.

When I felt my connection to the draft of cold night air get cut off, I knew there was no way I could make an exit without looking like I was socially inept. My eyes sought a corner, any corner, where I could try and blend into the wallpaper and pray that no one tried to talk to me. Dismay tingled in my brain when I saw that every nook and cranny was occupied.

This was going to be a nightmare.

In light of my social ineptitude, I did what I always did when I was feeling insecure. I attached myself to Rosalie like her own personal leech. Since Rosalie was hell bent on attaching herself to Emmett, it meant we followed him around the house as he played host to people. The two new girls staying in a small town were big news, so part of Emmett's duty became introducing us to the rest of his guests. This became counter productive to my 'be noticed by as few as possible' plan.

Some of those we were introduced to seemed really nice. Angela Webber gave me a warm smile that had more honesty behind it than most people had in their whole bodies. Emmett's friend Jasper had a soothing presence and a velvety southern accent. When I learned he was Alice's husband I did a double take. He didn't seem like the type to marry the kind of girl that files her nails on the job. Mike Newtown was a little cheesy, but harmless…until he started to hit on Rose. Emmett not so subtly led us away after that.

Eventually the discomfort of being put on the spot overshadowed the comfort of being near Rose, and I found a free corner to slink into. That corner happened to be right next to the buffet table. An array of carb-filled, sugar filled, and fat filled snack foods seemed to have been set up just to torture me. It felt like they were literally calling to me.

Chips: Eat us, Bella; you know you love the crunchy, salty texture.

Popcorn: We're white cheddar popcorn…derived from corn…therefore technically a vegetable.

Cupcakes: All this frosting and no one to love. Have a little nibble, Bella, you know you want to.

Brownies: Hey, Treadmill Girl. It's Isabella, right?

Wait…that wasn't the brownies.

Oh fudgerbucket.

Profile of a God? Check. Luscious bronze locks just begging to be further messed up by frantically seeking fingers? Double Check. A mouth that seemed to have been perfectly designed to make drool come from both sets of a lady's lips? Ding ding ding, we have a winner!

Down Bella, down. Do not maul the nice treadmill man.

I went for a friendly, chill smile that said 'Yep, I'm a perfectly normal human being. Mentally stable and everything, I promise.' The questioning quirk of his mouth and raise of his eyebrows told me the attempt had said something more along the lines of 'I want to stalk you, break into your house, and watch you while you're sleeping as I use Photoshop to make fake wedding pictures of us.'

Me and the whole 'social interaction' thing…we didn't mesh together very well. It's a clinically proven fact. One plus one is two, the sky is blue, and Bella can't talk to people without sounding like a freaking lunatic.

Oh, that should go on a t-shirt.

Focus, Bella, focus.

Right. He'd asked me a question. Socially apt people tended to respond to questions.

"No…I mean yes…I'm Isabella, that's my name. Everyone calls me Bella though. Well…I mean, not everyone, but people who know me…call me…that."

Warning: Idiot Alert, level is critical.

I'm sure my face was hellfire shades of red at this point. Luckily for me, he was still smiling pleasantly.

"Well, Bella, pardon my blunt observation, but you look absolutely miserable standing over here all by yourself." He looked at me expectantly. I didn't know what he wanted.

Words, Bella! This is the part where you open your mouth and make words come out!

Oh, right.

My voice was a soft and shaky excuse for speech. "Yeah, social gatherings aren't exactly my forte." I was sure my interactions thus far had demonstrated that fact rather thoroughly.

Treadmill Guy…Edward…smiled at me warmly, making the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck tingle and rise. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he assured. "No one bites. Well, there was that one time when Emmett bit me during 1st grade recess, but unless you're attempting to steal his favorite red Hot Wheels car I think you should be safe."

A smile bubbled its way through the layer of cautious fear that had frozen over my face.

"I'm Edward," he said, offering me his hand.

Fingers had never looked so sensuous. They were long, and sexy as hell, and I wanted to lick them. I reached out to shake his hand, willing my overzealous hormones to calm down and not cause me to do something really stupid.

"Yeah I kinda knew your name already. My friend grabbed one of your business cards from the gym."

"Oh? Is she looking for a personal trainer?"

I was torn. Guidance from a professional was something I could benefit from, but I was hesitant to share such a personal struggle with a complete stranger. Edward probably thought I was just some lazy couch potato who did nothing but watch TV and eat pizza. This wasn't necessarily an incorrect inference, but still.

For a few seconds I floundered between answers. Be brave and ask for help, or cater to my basic instinct of 'do it yourself and hope no one sees you'? Just as I had pulled together what few scraps of courage I possessed, my response was rendered unnecessary. Edward and I were distracted by the arrival of the Big-Boobed Brunette from the gym.

B to the third power, as I had decided to dub her, softly ran her fingers along Edward's arm before giving it a playful squeeze. "Oh, Edward, you worked me out so good yesterday. I'm sore all over."

Oh look, a big breasted girl flirting expertly while also invoking poor grammar; how original.

She was looking at Edward's face, but the words were meant for me. While a male ear would probably hear her voice and process it as a seductive purr, the female to female communication allowed me to take it as the aggressive growl it was meant to be. Her eyes perused me with hostility at the same time she inclined her head towards me graciously. "Oh, are you the Bella Swan everyone's been talking about? I was so sad to hear about Chief Swan. I hope he's feeling better. I'm Jessica; it's so nice to meet you."

In girl speak this translated to; "Listen up; you don't look like a threat but let me fill you in. I'm the Queen Bee in this town, so know your place. This man right here, I've claimed him for myself, so you better tread wisely."

I was well versed in translating the covertly hidden insinuations of the pretty and popular. I'd hoped to no longer need such skills once High School was over. Reality had popped that dream bubble real fast.

Watching Jessica press her flawless figure against Edward's caused a lump to form in my throat. They looked perfect together. I couldn't look that good standing next to him if I tried. Swallowing the lump of jealousy, I focused as Jessica began to grill me for my life's story. Edward spoke very little during this exchange. The understated way he watched me, made it feel as if he was peeling back the layers of my brain and digging around through my soul. It was unsettling, yet a tiny bit exciting at the same time.

Eventually the conversation grew slack, and Jessica invited Edward to come do shots with her and a bunch of her friends over at Emmett's impressive bar. He asked me to come along, but inebriation would only further mess up my night, so I opted to stay in my safe little corner. Throughout the rest of the night, I did manage to step out of my comfort zone and mingle a little bit. Mostly only with other corner lurkers who were as soft spoken as me, but hey…one step at a time, right?

The main source of my pride came from my successful handling of the buffet table. I nibbled on the veggie trays (broccoli is one of the few vegetables that I like), and when it was time to get more sustaining nourishment, I weighed my options carefully. One slice of bread, topped with turkey in some sort of gravy seemed better than the chicken wings and pizza alternatives. Thank god for crock pots.

I was seriously excited at my show of willpower. Parties were my downfall when it came to overeating. Nerves and a lack of anything to do with my hands lead to compulsive grabbing and nomming.

The party began to die down around midnight. People said their goodbyes and made their way to their cars, the brightness from the headlights filtering through the windows. I expected that I'd be stuck there until Emmett physically kicked Rosalie out. Surprisingly there were still quite a few people there when she worked her way over to me, face aglow with an apparently successful evening.

The drive home was filled with another dose of Emmett-101. This time, I didn't mind so much. I hadn't exactly been charming this evening, but I hadn't been an absolute social pariah either.

That night as I lay in bed, the shadows on the ceiling beckoned me to dance with them. I feel asleep with images of twirls and dips blanketing my mind.

They hadn't eaten me alive after all.

(AN)-*Blows noisemaker* Did you enjoy the party? I'm sure you could have used a bit more Edward this chapter, but fear not. Chapter 9 is when you'll get your fix. See you guys next week!