The next few days at school it's hard to focus when all I do is look everywhere for Edward. Every door that slams, every loud voice I hear, every noise that grabs my attention sends an instant zap of energy through my veins and for just a blip in time I hold out that it's him.

Unfortunately, it never is.

I even approached Emmett and Rosalie and asked if they had talked to Edward. They both said they hadn't heard from him either, but I wasn't sure I believed them. I definitely could tell they didn't like me invading their space. To that group of friends, I was still the enemy, an outsider. I even heard that Rosalie said I ran Edward off because I was playing games with him, that I was stringing him along until the play was over.

If I thought it would do any good I would march right up to Rosalie Hale and tell her straight up to her face that was the farthest thing from the truth.

But she would probably kick my ass anyway and still wouldn't believe anything I said.

Not even after I told her that I don't play such games of the heart and that I never meant to hurt Edward―not at all. And who knows what she would do if I told her I fell hard for him.

No doubt she'd murder me.

But I was desperate, so much that at least once a night, I called his cell number. It would ring exactly six times before it went to his voice mail with a generic message. Yet it that brief suspension of time, when I counted those rings, hope bubbled up. I psyched myself up every time that this could be the time he finally answered. When he didn't, I was no more saddened than I was before. I simply reminded myself I could try it again tomorrow.

The rumor mill worked overtime spreading lies about Edward, Peter and I. How we had a threesome before I dumped Peter, and Edward left. Or how Peter kicked Edward's ass and Edward ran away because he was so scared. Or how I fucked one in my bedroom and then fucked the other in my bathroom. Or how Mrs. Cope had to cancel the final night of the show because of all the fighting between us.

Just take your pick of which you want to believe even though none are true.

I was finally to the point where I could ignore them all; their words were nothing to me.

Early Wednesday morning a strong thunderstorm had passed through the city. There was a tree that had fallen on one of the generators right outside the building, leaving the auditorium without any power. The last night of the performance had to be canceled.

Mrs. Cope had left it up to me and the rest of the cast, asking if we wanted to reschedule the last night. Unanimously we decided not to. It was best to call it complete.

Everyone among us could tell the magic was gone.

No sense in pretending.

/ / /

Friday afternoon, as soon as the bell rings, I take off in a rush to the dressing area in the auditorium. Esme is coming today to pick up the costumes. When I had talked to her Tuesday night after the play, she'd promised me that she'd let me know when she heard from Edward.

He's been gone for days now and she hasn't called me yet. I'm hoping that maybe today she'll have some news.

As soon as I round the building, I see a white van backed up to the side door and people are already loading things up.

I can't find her soon enough.

"Bella, there you are. I was afraid I was going to miss you, we're almost done. Follow me." She takes my hand, leading me toward my dressing room.

We stop at the locked door.

My patience is running thin. I want to yell at her to just tell me something already.

She takes a deep breath before she takes my other hand in hers.

"He finally called home, Bella." Her voice is very flat and her eyes are dull. She's not even smiling anymore, not even a little.

Now, I'm not so positive I want to know.

But I do.

"And?" I ask with a squeak.

"It's not good hon. He just... he's in a really bad frame of mind right now. He'd barely speak to me and when he did, his voice was so sharp and cold." The corner of her lips rise in what I'm assuming is supposed to be a reassuring smile, but I don't feel very assured.

"Wh―," I swallow and force down the knot of emotion that's lodged in my throat. "What did he say?"

She shakes her head and looks down at her hands still holding mine.

When she looks back up at me, a single tear rolls down her cheek. "He said he's not coming back."

She whispers it low and soft, but somehow it still echoes off the walls of the empty hallway.

Panic instantaneously overcomes heartache. Fear trumps worry. Hopelessness creeps in, filling all the gaps. "What do you mean? He's not coming back this week? This month? What? And what... what about graduating? What about his car? He can't mean…"

She squeezes my fingers to stop my rambling.

"Bella, he said he's never coming back."

My whole being then takes on this feeling, it's like it's empty, but heavy. Dead, but alive with hurt. Lost, but knowing exactly where I am.

"He said he doesn't care anymore about the car or about school. I begged him to just come for four more weeks to graduate, Bella. I offered to set him up with correspondence classes to finish out the year..." Her shoulders slump and she shrugs. She looks at the ceiling and shakes her head.

But this is his mother begging him―surely he would listen to her. "What did he say to that?"

"He said he can't." No sadness in her voice. No anger. Just blunt and to the point.

Yet those four words might as well have been poisonous daggers shot straight into my heart.

"He can't? It's because of me, isn't it?" I choke out as I feel the whirlwind of heartache increasing its speed inside my chest, effectively tearing me apart.

"Bella, honey, he didn't say anything like that, I promise. He barely said anything at all. Listen to me, before we hung up he told me that he may come back to pick up a few of his things that he had forgotten. But he said that he didn't want to see anyone. He doesn't want any kind of drama or trouble. I had to swear to Edward that Carlisle and I wouldn't pressure him to stay if he stopped by. I'm sorry."

"Oh," is how I respond because it's all I've got.

"And Bella, as a mother who loves Edward with everything I have, there's a part of me that wants to urge you to not give up on him. But as a woman who also cares for you, I don't want to see you hurt anymore. I want you to be happy. Do you understand? I can't promise you anything."

I nod once.

I hear her sigh beside me, but my mind is in a fog right now. I've never felt so... so... sad and defeated.

"There's just one more thing, Bella, before I leave." She opens the door and motions with her hand for me to go inside.

I take a few steps in and what I see there in the room stops me dead still.

It's haunting and it's beautiful.

I approach it with caution, as if I could hurt any more than I already do.

My fingers trace over the beads on the bodice. I pat down the lace. The memories of a few nights ago come alive with color and sound. Different than they were just this morning or last night. Different than they were on Tuesday when I had this dress on while on stage with Peter. I can practically feel Edward again beside me.

Now, it's almost a tragic shadow inside my soul.

My eyes are overflowing with tears. My chest aches. My legs want to buckle.

I hear her move closer behind me.

"I want you to have this dress, Bella. You are simply radiant in it and the way I see it, I don't think it would do anyone else any justice."

I can't stop touching it. I just want to somehow feel again an ounce of that magic like when I tried it on for the first time. Or when Edward and I were on stage. Or when he took my hand in his. Or his lips touching mine in front of the world.

I close my eyes and silently beg for some sort of that leftover energy to pass through my fingertips and leak into my soul. Energy to once again let me feel something positive and give me hope. Give me something to look forward to. Give me something to believe in. Just give me something.

But of course I get nothing. Only my needy wants and wishes clouding up my reality.

"Thank you so much for this." I refrain from falling into the dress and burying my face, using it as a pillow to pass the night.

"No, thank you. I just wish I had more to give you, Bella. You are a wonderful person inside and out. Don't let yourself think differently." She reaches around me and her fingers dance over the material beside mine.

"Let this be your reminder that you're going to do great things with your life. This right here - this was only the beginning. I believe in you, Bella. Edward believes in you too, he's just too confused to realize it. "

I nod, not knowing what to say.

"Well, I have to get these costumes back before five, so I have to leave now. Don't be a stranger. You're welcome at our house anytime, alright?"

Her hand drops from the gown as she turns to walk away.

"Esme," I cry as close the short distance between us and throw my arms around her.

"Oh honey, don't cry." She hugs me back and for just a minute she wraps me up with her comfort. It doesn't take long for me to get myself together.

"Will you please keep me in the know about Edward?" I step back from her and wipe my cheeks. "I have to know he's doing okay."

"Of course." She squeezes my hand one more time before she takes a couple of steps backward toward the door again.

Her hand reaches for the knob, I watch it in slow motion. She's my last tie to Edward. She's the closest thing to him I have. It's unsettling to watch her leave. As the door inches open I yell out her name again.

She stops and spins to look at me. "Yes?"

She has a small smile on her face, that smile confirms that if she - Edward's own mother, can get through this―then so can I.

"Tell him I miss him," I say as I try to smile back.

"Done. Goodbye Bella." With a nod, she turns and walks away.

Once again all that remains is me and my dress, right along with my broken heart and my shattered dreams.

We are all one and the same and all we want is what we can't have, which is the way it was before. Our yesterdays and our last weeks. A time when things were easy and right. Unbroken and straight. We want what was good.

And what is gone.

/ / /

"Bella, you have a visitor!" my mother yells from the living room.

This entire weekend, I've stayed holed up in my room. Peter has called repeatedly so I finally turned off my phone.

I don't want to talk to him.

But now, with someone at the door, and my mom being all elusive by calling them 'a visitor', it better not be Peter.

I might lose my shit on my mother and Peter if it is.

"On the porch." She nods from behind her book.

I tentatively open the door and when I see that it's Mike, I'm relieved that it's not Peter but disappointed that it's not … someone else.

"Hey." I pull the door closed and step out onto the porch.

"Hi Bella. I brought you these." He hands me a small stack of what I assume are my copies of the play. "I tried to hurry and get them edited and stuff. I figured you had some sort of deadline to meet."

I nod as I take them from him. "Yeah I do. Thanks."

Mike stands there awkwardly, his hands are moving as though he's talking but he's not saying anything.

He huffs and his hands fall and slap his thighs. "Bella I just want to say I don't agree with what Peter did to you. You didn't deserve it. And I want to apologize for not stepping up as your friend and telling you about it. He kept telling me he wasn't going to mess around with her anymore. I'm sorry. "

"Mike, no. I understand. I'm not upset with you. Your allegiance was with Peter, I get it."

He shakes his head. "That's not a good enough excuse."

"Maybe, maybe not." I chuckle. "But seriously, no hard feelings, Mike, and I really appreciate you doing this for me. Thank you so much." I lift up and wiggle the DVDs in my hand.

"You're welcome. I actually enjoyed doing it. I made four copies for you to do whatever with. Good luck on getting the scholarship and everything, Bella. And I just have to say that even though I hate what Peter did to you, he is still my best friend. I thought you should know that he regrets what he did and how it all went down. He misses you―your friendship and stuff. I, personally, would like to see you two as friends again if that could ever happen." Mike takes a few steps backward down the stairs.

"I don't know, maybe someday." I shrug. "Thanks again for this."

"I'll see you tomorrow at school." Mike yells and throws up his hand as he jogs down the sidewalk to his car.

I go inside and head toward the sanctity of my bedroom to torture myself with watching the videos.

I bring my laptop over to my bed and quickly settle in while it powers up.

I'm anxious to see what Mike has put together. He had told me that he would splice together all the best scenes, but knowing that he's Peter's buddy makes me think he wouldn't even use any of the parts of me and Edward even though I know they were better than the scenes with Peter.

When the movie starts to play, I find myself transfixed.

There we are. There is no Peter to be seen. He only used Monday night's performance.

Only Edward.

And me.

My heart goes crazy in my chest. I can't take my eyes off him.

The way he looks at me.

The smile on his lips.

How he watches me when we're on separate sides of the stage.

How good we look hand in hand.

The perfection that was our dancing.

That kiss.

I spend the rest of my day and night, burrowed under the covers with my laptop close by and that video on loop.

Every time I watch it I see something I didn't see before.

I can't explain the way it makes me feel. There's joy and pride and love and perfection. There's also pain and hurt and longing and tears.

I just don't understand how Edward could so easily run away from what he had. Especially now that I have the proof he felt it too.

But I guess it just wasn't enough.

/ / /

On Monday, my mother sends a copy of the video and the accompanying essay that I wrote months ago to the scholarship committee.

All we have to do is wait.

I will have an answer in a little over three weeks. Right about the time we graduate. Then, if I get it, I will have three more weeks before I have to leave.

Not soon enough if you ask me.

/ / /

Weeks pass. The end of the school year looms and graduation day quickly approaches.

With just one week left of school I can walk the halls of school with my head held high. I can ignore the whispers and the snarls. I can laugh off the crazy gossip that keeps circulating. I can make it five more days.

What I can't seem to do is forget him, get over him. Let him go.

Not that I want to entirely.

But I dream of Edward. Every night.

My subconscious mind keeps him close, near, and safe.

When I wake in the mornings for just a few blissful seconds, there's no weight in my chest, there's no crack in my heart, and I'm not left behind any longer.

I smile, every morning and I wish to go back to sleep and dream some more. I love that peaceful feeling. I want to harbor it all day long.

I keep teetering on these warped and skewed lines of emotions.

Some days it doesn't hurt as much, I guess little by little, I'm beginning to embrace the reality that he really is gone. Those days I can appreciate what we had. I can grin about it. I still wish for closure, I still yearn for the chance for more with him - even simply a friendship. I still glance at my phone a lot hoping for a call or an update. But I never forget.

Other days, I get mad. Those days, I want to hate him. He's a coward. He's wrong on so many levels and he obviously didn't feel toward me half of what I felt for him. Otherwise it wouldn't have been so easy for him to walk away. To make his parents worry like that! To quit school with only four weeks left! Maybe I'm more pissed at myself for being so love struck, for being a fool. For letting him in and making me feel so crazy. But I still don't forget.

Sometimes I even realize that Edward Cullen has a lot of growing up to do and he leaving is for the best. That I'm probably better off without him. But I can't forget.

Honestly though, I don't have enough of those mad days, those days when I want to move on.

What I do seem to have too many of is those small fragments of time that creep up on me everyday when it's a struggle for my feelings to not rip a new tear right through my chest. When it feels like my heart is actually hollow and broken. When I just want to cry.

When I want to forget him more than anything.

I try to keep my mind busy. I make lists of things I will need to take with me if and when I leave. I double-check those lists and then rewrite them. With just a few days of school left, I've even begun to fold up stacks of clothes that I might take with me.

I stay up late with my eyes on the television and the volume turned up loud so my mind doesn't have the time to pause and wonder and think too much.

I count the hours until I won't have to go back into that school, walk those halls, and see that auditorium.

Soon enough, that time comes.

"A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles the rain." ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow