So far Emmett has been receiving negative reviews. Understandable. Just know, from here it's all downhill. In the end he might redeem himself, but that will all be a matter of opinion. Another important thing to keep in mind is, who will receive Rosalie's forgiveness? Emmett? Her parents? Or herself? It's too early to tell; it can be any one of those factors. This story is all about forgiveness, freedom, redemption, trust, love, loyalty, and finding yourself. Anything could happen. But know, I wouldn't be so cruel and cliché to have Emmett stand outside Rosalie's house begging for forgiveness and have her run into his arms-easy fix. No, they have a lot of work to do before anyone gets their happy ending.

"Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky are like shooting stars?
I could really use a wish right now
Wish right now
Wish right now"

-B.O.B ft Hayley Williams "Airplanes"

BPOV

July 4, 2010 La Push beach

Edward and I stopped walking in the light push and pull of the water when the first firework shot out into the air. The whole beach stopped and gazed in wonder at the red and green color exploding into the sky. The crowd oohed and ahhed as the ash slowly drifted into the water.

"Do you hear that?" Edward asked.

I looked at him confused. "You mean the fireworks?" As if to punctuate my sentence, another loud bang burst into the air, color exploding into a beautiful blossom of sparks.

Edward smiled in knowing. "No, I mean the silence. Before the big commercial fireworks started, all of the amateurs were trying their hand at fire in their backyards. Do you hear any amateurs?" I stood, silent, waiting. Nothing.

"It's like everyone is holding their breath now," Edward continued. "Everyone was waiting for this moment for weeks. It is the highlight of everyone's summer. The silence is because no one knows what to make of it when it finally comes."

I turned to look at everyone behind us. My new friends were laughing and pointing at all of their favorite fireworks. The ever confident Rosalie slowly slid her hand over to Emmett's to intertwine their fingers. I watched as Emmett looked down, shyly smiling at their fingers as he interlaced his fingers with Rosalie's. I shifted my focus back to Edward's face. He looked almost beautiful in the green light shining on his face. He was watching a man taking pictures of the show.

"I want to do something like that," he said.

"Take pictures of fireworks?"

His lips twitched up into a crooked smile. "Capture the fleeting beauty we have in the world. So many people live in a black and white life when there is so much color all around us. I feel it is my duty to help restore what little faith we all have left in the world."

"You, my friend, are strangely deep and profound."

"Nah," Edward shook his head. "I'm just a dreamer living in a realistic world."

"Remember when we were younger and the fireworks were good? This is just crap. The finale is just a fading out. It used to be all of the remaining fireworks going off at once."

"That, my friend, is partly because of the recession, and piss poor planning."

September 10, 2013

I met my friends six months after my mother died. A few weeks after meeting Edward and the others I found out my mother was seeing another man behind Charlie's back. Charlie found out while looking through Renee's emails. He found emails to some guy named Phil. Apparently my mom was planning to leave us later that year.

I don't miss her anymore.

My entire image of my mother was shattered. She was my hero, my best friend. Turns out she never wanted me and denied any claim to me. She resented Charlie for holding her back in life. She got pregnant with me at a young age, and married Charlie out of wedlock. Charlie genuinely loved that woman. He hasn't been able to pull himself together since. I don't blame him.

This is why I have trust issues.

Renee is actually the reason why I was at the beach with Rosalie on July 4th. After Renee died, I became a total zombie. I walked around without ever living. Rosalie wanted to cheer me up. She wanted me to start living again. So she convinced me to put on her extra bikini and go to the beach for the Fourth of July. Of course I went kicking and screaming like the stubborn person I am. I will never regret that day.

I met some of the best people that day. They hardly even knew me, but they were at my house every day for the rest of the summer trying to help me pick up the pieces after my mother's betrayal. Alice kept my house stocked with junk food, Rosalie cleaned my house and helped with the laundry, Edward held me while I cried, Jasper and Emmett were always there to help me carry a drunk Charlie inside the house when he passed out drunk, and Emmett's mom made me and Charlie food.

Emmett's mom is a strange woman. Both of his parents are stuck up, pretentious pricks, much like their son. They're polite people to everyone except Rosalie and her family. No one knows exactly why. They never had a problem with me and Alice; it was just Rosalie. They are awful to Rose. She constantly tries to please them. She helped Emmett study for all of his tests and quizzes. She held him while he cried when his cat died. She helped him cope with his sister moving away for college. She encouraged him when he thought about auditioning for theatre.

His parents hated that he wanted to audition for theatre. His dad thought Emmett was gay because he was never that interested in sports. Emmett is so uncomfortable with his home life he'd rather go out on a stage and pretend like he's in a completely different world than live with his own boring life. I really feel for him some days.

Ever since Rosalie and Emmett broke up, it's been like a war zone. Everywhere she goes, someone has a comment. Mike Newton and Eric Yorkie ask her every day if she'd do them a "favor". Tanya Denali and Lauren Mallory left a sticky note on Rose's locker, calling her a two cent whore. Emmett told his buddies what Rosalie is like in bed.

But Rosalie never cries. In public, that is. She won't let them see her cry again. She never misses a day of school, and never walks in the opposite direction when she sees those asshole degenerates. She tries to talk to Emmett every day, only to be shot down again and again. I give her a lot of credit. She's stronger than ever thought possible.

. . .

"I'm sorry, but I cannot change your schedule," my counselor, Esme Platt said. We've been going at it for the past fifteen minutes. That woman won't budge. Not even when I gave her a twenty to change my schedule. She's good, that woman.

"Then why tell me we would talk about my schedule as soon as Freshmen Madness was over?!" I protested as I threw my hands up in the air in frustration.

Esme chuckled at my endearing term for the first week of school. "Bella, you are too witty for journalism. In journalism, you have no room to be witty. Stray from the cold hard facts, and someone might take offense and think shots have been fired. In creative writing, your offensive witty can be charming."

I slammed my head against the desk. "I like cold hard facts," I mumbled against the cold metal desk.

"I see," Esme's voice trailed off. "Bella sit up, please." Sucking it up and leaving my dramatics behind, I sat up and looked Esme in the eyes. "Now, Mr. Birdy and I both agree that your skills will be put to best use in Creative Writing. You're such a creative girl. Everything in your portfolio pointed directly to that. You're too imaginative for the mundane life of a journalist. Why are you so against Creative Writing?"

I thought for a moment. I knew exactly why I had such a strong distaste for Creative Writing. Figuring it wouldn't hurt to tell Esme the truth, I opened my mouth and gave her the truth. "I don't like getting hurt. Journalism is reporting the facts and sometimes bringing justice to life. Creative Writing scares me. It's like hopping down the rabbit hole. You never know what you'll find at the bottom of the hole."

Esme smiled. "Now we're getting somewhere!" She excitedly clapped her hands together, continuing. "Sometimes you have to jump down the rabbit hole to gain the truth and 'bring justice to life.'"

"What do you mean?"

"I think that's a question you should ask Mr. Carlisle," Esme blushed. I raised my eyebrow at her. "He is the expert, anyway."

"I see," I said, noticing she avoided my speculative look.

"Besides, even if I caved and let you take journalism, your schedule would not allow it. You would have to get a whole new schedule and that's too much work."

"Why not get rid of my release?" What the hell was I supposed to do with a release? It's not like I can drive or walk home. I have to wait until the end of the day to get a ride home from Rosalie or Edward. It's pointless. Schools put such an emphasis on going to school and getting all of your credits, but then they give you a release.

"Forks School District made it mandatory that every student has at least one release."

"That's stupid." The words slipped out of my mouth before I could even register my mouth moving.

Esme smiled. "It is. You could always stay after school with Mr. Carlisle and get your community service hours done. He's always looking for a new student aid."

"Great," I said bitterly. "As if I don't see him enough!" I got up and walked out of Esme's office. I could hear her giggles as I walked past other students waiting outside her office. I liked Esme. She understands what it's like to be a high school student better than most of the teachers in this school. I made a mental note to take her advice; to ask to be Mr. Carlisle's student aid and also ask him how creative writing can gain any type of truth and bring justice to life.