Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Stephenie Meyer and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: Okay, ngl, the ending scene is so much funnier in this chapter than the one in canon is to me, so if it is to you, do not feel alone lol. I love how tweaks to canon like this can just so fundamentally change the tone of a scene like that.

Anyways, as always, I hope you enjoy. Until next chapter,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~full moon~

~chapter 11: complications~

Everyone watched us as we walked together to our lab table. I noticed that Edythe no longer angled the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, she sat quite close beside me, our arms almost touching.

Mr. Banner backed into the room then – what superb timing that man – pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that had a heavy-looking, outdated TV and VCR. A movie day – the lift in the class atmosphere was almost tangible.

Mr. Banner shoved the tape into the reluctant VCR and walked to the wall to turn off the lights.

And then, as the room went black, I was suddenly hyperaware that Edythe was sitting less than an inch away from me. I was stunned by the unexpected electricity that flowed through me, amazed that it was possible to be more aware of her than I already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and touch her, to stroke her perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly overwhelmed me. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, my hands balling into fists. I was losing my mind.

The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount. My eyes, of their own accord, flickered over to Edythe. I smiled sheepishly as I realized that her posture was identical to mine, fists clenched under her arms, right down to the eyes, peering sideways at me. She grinned back, her eyes somehow managing to smolder, even in the dark. I looked away before I could start hyperventilating. It was absolutely ridiculous that I should feel dizzy.

The hour seemed very long. I couldn't concentrate on the movie – I didn't even know what subject it was on. I tried unsuccessfully to relax, but the electric current that seemed to be originating from somewhere in her body never slackened. Occasionally I would permit myself a quick glance in her direction, but she never seemed to relax, either. The overpowering crave to touch her also refused to fade, and I crushed my fists safely against my ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, flexing my stiff fingers. Edythe chuckled beside me.

"Well, that was interesting," she murmured. Her voice was dark and her eyes were cautious.

"Umm," was all I was able to respond.

"Shall we?" she asked, rising fluidly.

I almost groaned. Time for Gym. I stood with care, worried my balance might have been affected by the strange new intensity between us.

She walked me to my next class and paused at the door; I turned to say goodbye. Her face startled me – her expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch her flared as strong as before. My goodbye stuck in my throat.

Edythe raised her hand, hesitant, conflict raging in her eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with her fingertips. Her skin was as icy as ever, but the trail her fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm – like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

She turned without another word and strode quickly away from me.

I walked into the gym, lightheaded and wobbly. I drifted into the locker room, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware of the people that were around me. Reality didn't fully set in until I was handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, and yet it felt very unsafe in my hand. I could see a few other kids in class eyeing me furtively. Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.

Mercifully, Mike came to stand next to me.

"Do you want to be a team?"

"Thanks, Mike – you don't have to do this, you know." I grimaced apologetically.

"Don't worry. I'll keep you out of the way," he promised with a grin. He really was a good friend.

Unfortunately, it didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and clip Mike's shoulder on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind my back. Despite being handicapped by me, Mike was pretty good; he won three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.

"So," he said as we walked off the court.

"So, what?"

"You and Cullen, huh?" he whispered, his tone rebellious.

"Mike," I chastised him, remembering what Edythe had said earlier.

"Don't worry," he said, for multiple reasons. "I just gotta know: are you happy?"

My face felt like it was on fire. "...Yes," I admitted.

He smiled back at me. "Then I'm happy for you."

I managed a smile of my own. "Thanks, Mike."

He winked. "Not a problem."

I waved at him as goodbye before going to the locker room. There, I dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of my stomach. I was wondering if Edythe would be waiting, or if I should meet her at her car. What if her family was there? I felt a wave of real terror. Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?

By the time that I walked out of the gym, I had just about decided to walk straight home without even looking towards the parking lot. But my worries were unnecessary. Edythe was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the gym, her breathtaking face untroubled now. As I walked to her side, I felt a peculiar sense of release.

"Hi," I said, smiling greatly.

"Hello." The smile she gave me in return was brilliant. "How was Gym?"

My face fell a tiny bit. "Fine," I lied.

"Really?" She was unconvinced. Her eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking over my shoulder as a small smile played at her lips.

"What?" I demanded.

Her eyes slid back to mine as she asked "innocently," "How's your head?"

"You weren't listening to that?" I was horror-struck. All traces of my good humor suddenly vanished. "Unbelievable!"

I turned, stomping away in the general direction of the parking lot, though I hadn't ruled out walking by this point.

Edythe kept up with me easily. "I was curious," she explained. "Your classmates' thoughts can sometimes be...loud, after Gym."

She didn't sound repentant, so I ignored her.

We walked in silence – a horribly embarrassed silence on my part – to her car. But I had to stop a few steps away – a crowd of people, all boys, were surrounding it.

But then I realized that they weren't actually surrounding the Volvo, rather the shiny red convertible that was Rosalie's right next to it, unmistakable lust in their eyes. None of them even looked up as Edythe slid between them to open her door. I climbed quickly into the passenger seat, also unnoticed.

"Ostentatious," she muttered.

"What kind of car is that?" I asked.

"An M3."

"I don't speak Car and Driver."

"It's a BMW." She rolled her eyes, not looking at me, trying to back out without running over the car enthusiasts.

I nodded – I'd heard of that one.

"Are you still irritated?" she inquired as she carefully maneuvered her way out.

"Definitely."

She sighed. "Will you forgive me if I apologize?"

"Maybe...if you mean it. And if you promise not to do it again," I insisted, before I thought I should better explain why I was mad. "I don't – I don't mind if you look, but I already feel embarrassed in that class. I don't..."

"I understand," she said where I faltered. Her eyes were then suddenly shrewd. "How about if I mean it, and I agree to let you drive Saturday?"

I considered her conditions, and decided that, because of the same telepathy that had allowed her to listen in the first place, that was probably the best offer I was going to get. "Deal," I agreed.

"Then I'm very sorry that I upset you." Edythe's eyes burned with sincerity for a protracted moment – playing havoc with the rhythm of my heart – before turning playful. "And I'll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning."

"Um, it doesn't help with the situation with my grandmother if an unexplained Volvo is left in the driveway."

Her smile widened. "I wasn't intending on bringing a car."

"How – ?"

She cut me off. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car."

I let it go. I had a more pressing question.

"Is it later yet?" I asked significantly.

Edythe frowned. "I suppose it is later."

I kept my expression polite as I waited.

She stopped the car. I looked up, surprised – of course we were already at Nonna's house, parked in the street. My grandmother's car was here, but I didn't think she would mind if I stayed inside Edythe's car with her a little longer.

It was easier to ride with Edythe if I only looked when it was over. When I looked back at her, she was staring at me, measuring with her eyes.

"And you still want to know why you can't see me hunt?" She seemed solemn, but I thought I saw a trace of humor deep in her eyes.

"Well," I clarified, "I was mostly wondering about your reaction."

"Did I frighten you?" Yes, there was definitely humor there.

"No," I lied. She didn't buy it.

"I apologize for scaring you," she persisted with a slight smile, but then all evidence of teasing disappeared. "It was just the very thought of you being there while we...hunted." Her jaw tightened.

"That would be bad?"

She spoke through clenched teeth. "Extremely?"

"Because...?"

She took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

"When we hunt," she spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses...govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way..." She shook her head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the quick flash of her eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing away.

But our eyes held, and the silence deepened – and changed. Flickers of the electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as she gazed at me unrelentingly into my eyes. It wasn't until my head started to swim that I realized I wasn't breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, she closed her eyes.

"Bella, I think you should go inside now," Edythe said. Her voice was rough, her eyes on the clouds again.

I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear my head. Afraid I might stumble in my woozy state, I stepped carefully out of the car and shut the door behind me without looking back. The whir of the automatic window rolling down made me turn.

"Oh, and Bella?" she called out after me, her voice more even. She leaned towards the open window with a faint smile.

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, it's my turn."

"Your turn to what?"

She smiled wider, flashing her gleaming teeth. "Ask the questions."

And then she was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around the corner before I could even collect my thoughts. I smiled as I walked into the house. It was clear she was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else.

That night Edythe starred in my dreams, as usual. The climate of my consciousness, however, had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged that afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly, waking often. It was only in the early hours of the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

When I woke I was still tired, but edgy as well. I pulled on my brown turtleneck and the inescapable jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of spaghetti straps and shorts. Nonna was still sleeping, which was to be expected. I ate a bowl of cereal at the kitchen counter before writing another note explaining that my friend was driving me to school again today. Nonna had seemed fine with it when I had gone inside last night, if not a little worried for that reason I couldn't explain.

When I was ready, I peeked out of the living room window. The silver car was already there, parked in the street where it had been yesterday. I bounded out the front door and down the steps of the porch, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. I never wanted it to end.

Edythe waited in the car, not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me without bothering to lock the dead-bolt. I walked to the car, pausing shyly before opening the door and stepping in. She was smiling, relaxed – and as usual, perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree.

"Good morning." Her voice was silky. "How are you today?" Her eyes roamed over my face, as if her question were something more than simple courtesy.

"Good, thank you." I was always good – much more than good – when I was with her.

Her gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "You look tired."

"I couldn't sleep," I confessed, automatically swinging my hair around my shoulder to provide some measure of cover.

"Neither could I," she teased as she started the engine. I was becoming used to the quiet purr. I was sure the roar of the truck would scare me, whenever I got to drive it again.

I laughed. "I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you did."

"I'd wager that you did."

"So, what did you do last night?" I asked.

She chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask the questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" I felt my forehead crease. I couldn't imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting to her.

"What's your favorite color?" she asked, her face grave.

I was reluctant to answer. I knew what I wanted to say, and that was that it changed from day to day along with her eyes, but I had a feeling that would be too revealing. I settled on the answer of today's color, which was also true for another reason. "Probably brown," I confessed.

She looked at my shirt and snorted, dropping the serious expression. "'Brown?'" she repeated skeptically.

"Sure. Brown is warm. I miss brown. Everything that's supposed to be brown – tree trunks, rocks, dirt – is all covered up with squashy green stuff here," I complained.

She seemed fascinated by my little rant. She considered me for a moment, staring into my eyes.

"You're right," Edythe decided, serious again. "Brown is warm." She reached over, swiftly, but somehow still hesitantly, to sweep my hair back behind my shoulder. I wished that I could do the same with hers, but alas, hers just barely reached her shoulders. And it always seemed too perfect to mess with anyways.

We were at the school by now. She turned back to me as she pulled into a parking space.

"What music is in your CD player right now?" she asked, her face as somber as if she'd asked for a murder confession.

I realized I'd never removed the CD Phil had given me. When I said the name of the band, she smiled crookedly, a peculiar expression in her eyes. She flipped open a compartment under her car's CD player, pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space, and handed it to me. "Debussy to this?" she asked me with a raised eyebrow.

It was the same CD. I examined the familiar cover art, keeping my eyes down.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. While she walked me to English, when she met me after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, she questioned me relentlessly about every single insignificant detail of my existence. Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and books – endlessly, she asked about books.

I couldn't remember the last time I had talked so much. More often than not, I felt self-conscious, certain I must be boring her. But the absolute absorption of her face, and her never-ending stream of questions, compelled me to continue. Mostly her questions were easy, only a few triggering my easy blushes. But when I did flush, it brought on a whole new round of questions.

Such as the time she asked my favorite gemstone, and I blurted out topaz before thinking, giving myself away when I had thought to be so clever before. In my defense, she'd been flinging questions at me with such speed that I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer the first word that comes to mind. I was sure she would have continued down whatever mental list she was following, except for the blush. My face reddened because, until very recently, my favorite gemstone had been garnet.

But it was impossible, while staring back into her topaz eyes, not to remember the reason for the switch. And naturally, she wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed.

"Tell me," Edythe finally commanded after persuasion failed – failed only because I kept my eyes safely from her face.

"It's the color of your eyes today," I sighed, surrendering to what I should have admitted from that very first question she had asked today. I stared down at my hands as I fiddled with a piece of my hair. "I suppose if you asked me two weeks from now I'd say onyx." I'd given more information than necessary in my unwilling honesty, and I worried it would provoke the strange anger that flared whenever I slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed that I was.

But her pause was very short.

"What kind of flowers do you prefer?" she fired off.

I sighed in relief, and continued with the psychoanalysis.

Biology was a complication again. Edythe had continued quizzing me up until Mr. Banner entered the room, dragging in the cart that held the heavy TV and VCR player on it again. As he approached the light switch, I noticed Edythe slide her chair slightly farther away from mine. It didn't help. As soon as the room was dark, there was the same electric spark, the same restless craving to stretch my hand across the short space and touch her skin, just as yesterday.

I leaned forward on the table, resting my chin on my folded arms, my hidden fingers gripping the table's edge as I fought to ignore the irrational longing that unsettled me. I didn't look at her, afraid that if she was looking at me, it would only make my self-control that much harder. I sincerely tried to watch the movie, but at the end of the hour I had no idea what I'd just seen. I sighed in relief again when Mr. Banner turned the lights on, finally glancing at Edythe; she was looking at me, her eyes ambivalent.

She rose in silence and then stood still, waiting for me. We walked towards the gym in silence, like yesterday. And, also like yesterday, she touched my face wordlessly – this time with the back of her cool hand, stroking once from my temple to my jaw – before she turned and walked away.

Gym passed quickly as I watched Mike's one-man badminton show. We talked a little, but not that much; he seemed to realize that I was lost in my own head today, and gave me the space that I needed.

I hurried to change afterwards, ill at ease, knowing that the faster I moved, the sooner I would be with Edythe. The pressure made me clumsier than usual, but eventually I made it out the door, feeling the same release when I saw her standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across my face. She smiled back in response before she launched into more cross-examination.

Her questions were different now, though, and not as easily answered. She wanted to know what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything that she wasn't familiar with. We sat in front of Nonna's house for hours, as it seemed that she had some errands to run or was spending time with her friends and/or other people today, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around us in a sudden deluge.

I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote – bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant – and the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feather barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky and how it extended white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it all was so beautiful to me – to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way that they held the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to her.

Edythe's quiet, probing questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation. Finally, when I had finished detailing my cluttered room at home, she paused instead of responding with another question.

"Are you finished?" I asked relievedly.

"Not even close – but your grandmother will be home soon."

"Nonna!" I gasped, before I sighed. I looked out at the rain-darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "What time is it?" I wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time, and ashamed. It would be much too late for me to make dinner by the time that Nonna came home without it being something extremely simple.

"It's twilight," Edythe murmured, looking out at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. Her voice was thoughtful, as if her mind were somewhere far away. I stared at her as she gazed unseeingly out the windshield.

I was still staring when her eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us," she said, answering the unspoken question that I had. "The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way...the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?" She smiled wistfully.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." I frowned. "Not that you see them here much." As she laughed, abruptly lightening the mood, I pressed on. "But you can see the full moon here better than those, even sometimes when it's obscured by the clouds, and I suppose there's that."

"You like the full moon specifically?" she probed. I nodded shyly, but of course she wouldn't settle for just that. "What about it?"

"The light – kind of like your reasoning for why you prefer twilight," I revealed. "But also, when we'd just moved to Phoenix, where you can't really see so many stars either, my mother and I would sit in our backyard some nights and listen to the bats. Our house is in an area in Phoenix near where they live. The bats always had each other, and I always had my mother, and she understands me better than most...but she's not like me. So I used to pretend that besides Charlie, who wasn't all that like me anyways, the only person that was...was the Man in the Moon." I ended that little story with a laugh, shaking my head. "I'm sorry. That sounds ridiculous."

"It doesn't. Really, it doesn't," Edythe insisted, the second sentence said a little bit after the first. The expression on my face must've given me away. "But, while I would love to talk about this more, your grandmother will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell her that you'll be with me on Saturday..." She raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks, but no thanks." I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from sitting still for so long. "So is it my turn tomorrow, then?"

"Certainly not." Her face was teasingly outraged. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"

"What more is there?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." She reached out and across to open the door for me, and her sudden proximity sent my heart into frenzied palpitations.

But her hand froze on the handle.

"Not good," she muttered.

"What is it?" I was surprised to see that her jaw was clenched, her eyes disturbed.

She glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," she said glumly. And she said something else other than that, but her voice was so soft and her lips barely moved, so I couldn't fully understand what she was saying. I thought I could pick up, "Should I...or...?" But that was all that I could.

Edythe flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me. "I'm sorry," she said.

The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a familiar car passed by us, heading for the driveway.

"That's your grandmother," she warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle. "She's not the only one coming, there's another car around the corner, but he...he won't repeat the mistakes that he made before. It'll be hard, but..." She clenched her right hand into a fist, her pale skin pulled taut around her knuckles. She inhaled a deep breath and repeated, seemingly to herself, "He won't."

I didn't understand. "What are you talking about?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Just go, Bella," she said, and there was an edge in her voice that I knew was not directed at me, but I had no idea who else it could be directed towards. My heartbeat fluttered, and naturally she picked up on this. Her eyes flitted back to me, regretful. "Please," she added. "It'll be fine."

The reassurance was more for her sake than mine, I was hers.

I hoped out at once, despite the equal mixture of dread, anxiety, and confusion that was coursing through me. The rain was louder as it glanced off my jacket.

There was another car coming down the street, as Edythe had said there would be. I tried to see who was in the driver's seat, but I couldn't make anything out. The car was still too far away.

I looked back at Edythe. She was no longer illuminated by the headlights of Nonna's car since she had parked in the driveway, but I could see that she was still staring ahead, her gaze locked on something or someone that I couldn't see – or perhaps she again wasn't looking at anything in particular at all. Regardless, her expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.

Then she revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

"Bella!" Nonna called out as I hurriedly walked up the driveway to go to her so that I could help her into the house. She didn't really need my help, I knew that, but it was more for my own peace of mind. "Piove forte, vero?"

"Sì, Nonna," I agreed, raising my voice even louder than I usually did around her so that she could hear me through the downpour.

Just as I reached her, behind us, from where Edythe had just been parked, there was another flash of headlights. The faint tendrils of it lit up the path of my vision when my head was facing forwards. I knew that it would be slightly painful to look over my shoulder because of the brightness, but I couldn't help myself.

"Hey, Bella!" a familiar, husky voice shouted out as he climbed out of the front passenger's seat.

"Jacob?" I asked, but not in a voice that was loud enough he would've been able to hear me. I squinted my eyes through the rain.

One of the neighbors on the other side of the street was also coming home, and the headlights of their car helped me see better the situation that Edythe had been trying to warn me of. Jacob waved before he went to open the car door behind his. But even before he opened the door, I could see that the man sitting there was much older, heavyset and with a memorable face – a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the skin like an old leather jacket. And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. This was Jacob's father, Billy Black.

I recognized him immediately. Of course I would: he was one of the elders of our tribe, and one of my father's best friends before he had passed. Billy was staring at me, scrutinizing my face like he already had reason to suspect me despite not having seen the visual evidence, so I smiled tentatively at him. He began to smile back.

But just when I thought that I was in the clear, the driver's door opened, and out stepped my cousin. Sam. His expression was open and friendly, but I was worried that would soon fade. Because if vampires like Edythe had a strong sense of smell, was it reasonable to assume that the wolves – Sam – did as well? Was he going to know as soon as he got near me, in spite of the rain, that I had been with Edythe, a sworn enemy of our Tribe who, along with the rest of her family, our ancestors had only begrudgingly made a deal with?

The answer, as I was about to find out, to both of those questions was: yes. Yes, it was reasonable to assume, and yes, he was going to find out, even all the while he was in the presence of a member of our Tribe who had scoffed at our seemingly impossible legends.

Word Count: 5,141

Next Chapter Title: balancing