Word Prompt: Clarity

Audio-Visual Challenge—Musical Mastery: "Lyin' Eyes" by The Eagles

Something True

Clarity

Last Winter

Backpack on the floor by her feet, Bella sat alone in a desk toward the front of the classroom waiting for Mr. Biers to show up. She checked the wall clock twice before Mr. Biers entered with a "Hello," and set his briefcase on his desk.

Looking across at Bella, he laughed low, but Bella didn't know why.

"Come here," he said, moving out from behind his desk.

She walked over to him.

He made a circle motion with his finger for her to turn.

She faced the door. Reaching around her, he clutched the edges of her coat and pulled it off her shoulders. "Might as well take this off." He hung it on the wall by the door. "We're going to be a while."

He handed her a stack of papers from his briefcase, the comprehension test they took earlier, the answer key, and a red pen. As she returned to her seat, he explained that she would grade papers from his other classes, not the one she was in. He'd grade those.

Instead of sitting at his desk, he twisted a student desk around, sat in it sideways with his legs up on the seat across from him, and kicked back grading papers.

Bella noticed a few gray hairs in his scruff. He glanced up, catching her looking, and she dropped her head fast, her attention on the papers in front of her.

They spent the rest of their time silently grading. She could almost hear the ticking of the clock.

…

Bella found out just how much could happen in one night. Winter Formal had brought her friends more than dates; they now had boyfriends.

The day of the Winter Formal was also the last day of school before Winter Break. Christmas was that week, which could have explained why she didn't see much of her friends. Though she knew it was more likely that they were off with their boyfriends. Saturday night, two days after Christmas, Rose invited Bella to spend the night.

They lived in the hills in one of the bigger homes in Forks. Although Rose didn't brag about their money, she was proud that her mom, an OBGYN, was the one of her parents who made the most money.

Rose's mom, a dress-type apron tied around her, invited Bella in and went to get Rose. Their living and dining area was one big, long room with a Christmas tree at one end and a grand piano at the farthest end in front of corner windows.

Peppermint candles were flickering all over. When Bella first stepped in with her overnight bag slung over her shoulder, the house smelled delicious, but after a while the scent became overwhelming. It began to make her nauseous. She was sure she could taste the artificial peppermint in her turkey and mashed potatoes with gravy.

Edward and his girlfriend were there, sitting across the dining table from Bella and Rose. It was their last night. In the morning they would return to Seattle.

Her name was Angela. She had the kind of brown eyes that were so dark it was hard to make out where the pupils began. After dinner, in the living area of the room, Angela was sitting on Edward's lap. For just a second, Bella wished she was Angela, wished her own light brown eyes were darker and mysterious, wished Edward was running his hand up and down her arm the way he was Angela's just then.

Bella turned to Rose. "Let's go to your room."

Rose said she'd meet her there. Bella sat, waiting on the bed. Rose's room was black and white and sky blue. She had three rare album covers framed over her bed: The Who's Quadrophenia, The Smiths' debut album, and The Beatles' A Hard Day's Night—which she'd said was worth a lot of money because of a printing error.

She had two white dressers placed side by side to create the look of one long piece that took up nearly the entire length of the wall. On top of the double-dressers was where her TV and record player sat. Bella got up and searched through the rack of records. She chose The Kinks.

All Day and All of the Night was playing when Rose came in with a purple sack in one hand, two shot glasses in the other, and a smile all over her face. She asked Bella to lock the door and from the drawstring sack she slipped out a near-full bottle of Crown Royal.

"Supposed to be the good stuff," Rose said. She sat on the floor pouring two glasses. The liquid trickled in.

"Girl, I want to be with you all of the time," Rose sang along to the record, bobbing her head, as she handed Bella a glass. It was only with Bella that she came out of her shell like this, and Bella loved this side of Rose. They clinked their glasses in a toast, and threw them back.

It was like fire in her throat. "Chaser. Chaser," Bella choked out.

Rose raced to her bedside table and came back with a box of molasses chips. Both of the girls shoved one in their mouth.

"My grandpa used to drink this stuff," Rose said, pouring a second shot for each of them. "He said you don't add anything to good whiskey; you respect it as it is."

The next shot was just as bad as the first, but the one after that went down smoother. After a while both girls were lying on their backs, looking up at the ceiling.

"Royce is so nice," Rose said, sounding like she was in a dream. Bella turned her heavy head to look at her. "After the dance, he kissed me." She touched her lips. "So softly, like, I barely felt it, but I couldn't help feeling it at the same time. You know?"

Bella nodded even though she didn't know. The last boy she kissed was Jacob Black, but his kiss was not soft, not at all what Rose was describing. He had put his tongue right in her mouth, and Bella, until just then on Rose's floor, thought that was what kissing was. She didn't understand the hype of it.

"He didn't try anything else. He didn't even put his hand up my dress. I think he might be a virgin, too."

"Really? Royce?"

"I don't know. But he didn't even try. And he still hasn't. He hasn't even kissed my neck or anything."

"Wow," breathed Bella. To date someone who was a virgin would be the perfect thing, but Bella really didn't think there were any left her age. "You're lucky."

"I know."

It took effort, but they did it. They got up and changed into their nightshirts.

Bella wore her dad's I Love New York shirt, a souvenir from their trip when she was fourteen. Her mother hadn't gone with them, saying she couldn't get out of work, she had this big commercial campaign due. Bella had tried to avoid searching her mother's eyes for the lie. It turned out that didn't matter. She could hear it, and looking away from something was much easier than closing your ears to it.

It was just Bella and her dad in New York. She had been amazed by the height of the skyscrapers. She spent more time looking up than straight ahead or down. Her dad had to pull her away from bumping into people. "Just like your mom," he'd said. "In your own world."

It was there in New York, in the shadow of one of the biggest buildings she'd ever seen, making her feel smaller than an ant in the world, that she recognized the truth in her dad's words: she wasn't much different from her mother. She hid a lie, too, and if anyone looked for it, it would be clear as day in her eyes; if they listened for it, it could be heard in her voice like the screeching brakes of a school bus.

Rose wandered over to her dresser to change the record, moving from The Kinks to The Turtles. She had this rule about vinyl. She would only buy the records of bands who originally released on vinyl.

While Rose was struggling with getting the needle set down carefully, Bella was becoming the record. With a spinning head, she stumbled into the hall toward the bathroom.

Even using the wall for balance, it was like she was walking on rickety tree limbs. She nearly fell, and what a long drop that would've been, she knew. An arm around her back caught her.

"Whoa," came Edward's low voice.

She whispered something that was meant to be "thank you," but even in her state she could tell how incoherent it was, coming out quiet and only, "Thank..."

"You're fucked up," he said with a hint of a smile.

"Yes." She laughed and he shushed her, helping her to the bathroom. She turned and looked up at him. He was so tall, and built. She could see the muscles in his chest through his thin white tee, and the way his biceps pushed against the sleeves. A man. Not quite the man that Mr. Biers was, but more a man than any of the boys at school.

Trying for some clarity through the tunnel she seemed to be looking down, she focused on his face. He had stubble on his jaw. His lips were kind of pink. She started to imagine what his kisses were like, if they were soft like Royce's or fast like Jacob's, or something in between. Staring into his eyes, she could've asked about his kisses, could've talked about that condom incident at the market, if he hadn't interrupted her thoughts with a grinning, "Goodnight, lush."

His hand left her body.