Is this… a relatively timely update? Impossible! Your reviews give me life and motivation—if you have any thoughts about anything, please share them, I want to hear. As usual, Stephenie Meyer owns all. This chapter has been slightly updated to clean up some writing mistakes and ensure continuity.

I woke up late on Sunday morning, stiff and tired from the beach trip. My mood was in the same shape as my body—I was mad at Lauren, mad at Edward, and—most of all—mad at Jacob. Lauren and Edward were strangers who couldn't be held to any kind of standard, but Jacob was my friend, and I couldn't believe that he had stonewalled me like that. I toyed with the idea of calling him and unleashing further righteous indignation, but decided against it. Conflict was still something that I avoided at all costs.

My annoyance did not wane as I composed a breezy email full of short anecdotes and inside jokes to Renee, nor as I hunted for the sunniest spot in the house to put my cactus, and it was definitely still present as I menu-planned and put together grocery lists for the upcoming week. When I found myself deep-cleaning the kitchen until my hands were raw, I chuckled and made myself lighten up a little. Angry cleaning was usually a sign that I needed to stop brooding and start acting. Charlie was out fishing, but I resolved that as soon as he returned and the opportunity presented itself, I would subtly pump him for answers.

With that off my mind, I cheerfully pitched into my homework, tackling even trigonometry with good will and vigor. I raced through my essay about prominent women in the history of the US government, read my biology textbook dutifully, and took notes about how Frederick Douglass's orations had influenced (or not) Lincoln's strategic decision to emancipate slaves in slaveholding states.

By the time I heard Charlie's cruiser pull up into the driveway I had almost worked myself out of my misgivings, but they returned as he slammed the door shut behind him. Something was going on and it was up to me to figure it out. I pictured myself as Nancy Drew, determinedly sleuthing away and only occasionally being kidnapped and nearly murdered, but always rescued in the nick of time.

I waited while Charlie tucked his catch neatly in the freezer, while he made himself a cup of coffee, and while he opened up the Sunday newspaper and settled himself at the table. As soon as he was comfortable, I sauntered into the kitchen and went through the motions of making tea.

"Hey dad," I began cautiously, my eyes on the not-yet-boiling pot of water, "what do you know about the Cullens?"

I wasn't supposed to be asking. Jake had been very clear on how important it was to him that I pretend that there was absolutely nothing unusual in any way about the doctor and his family. But how was I supposed to become a journalist if a tiny amount of pressure pushed me into burying a story? No, that wasn't the real reason. I knew, deep down, that I was pursuing this more out of sheer stubbornness and spite than any other reason. Two boys lying to my face in the same week had piqued me, and I was out for justice.

Charlie frowned absently. "Nice family," he said. I waited for more, then realized that he was done.

"They do a lot of outdoorsy stuff, don't they?" I pressed, choosing a mild and uncontroversial subject.

"I guess they do," he agreed.

I held my breath, then hurtled headfirst into danger. "Jacob doesn't seem to like them very much."

Charlie's frown became less absent. "Did he say something about them to you?" he asked, eyebrows drawing together as he looked up from his newspaper.

I leaned back against the kitchen counter, trying to seem casual. "He just… mentioned that he didn't like them." That was mostly true.

Charlie blew out a big breath and glanced down at his coffee. "I told Billy that he should be less superstitious," he grumbled. "The tribal council has gotten it into the youngsters' heads that Dr. Cullen is bad luck."

I thought about this for a minute. 'Bad luck' seemed a little milder than Jacob's deep unease with the very subject suggested. "Did he say why?"

"Nope." As if to decisively end the conversation, Charlie went back to his newspaper.

I waited another minute, to see if he had anything else to add, but when silence prevailed I poured my tea, left the kitchen and wandered upstairs to find something to read. Nothing jumped out at me, so I picked a perennial favorite—Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone—and tried to distract myself.

It didn't work. I found myself irritated that Harry, an eleven-year-old, had more success in figuring out secrets in a world that was completely alien to him than I was having in the entirely mundane locale of Forks. Sure, it turned out that he'd been chasing the wrong guy the whole time, but at least he was right about what was really going on. Then I felt guilty about feeling irritated at a fictional character for my own shortcomings. Then I felt resentful for feeling guilty about…

I put the book down gently, to avoid hurling it across the room, and decided to call Jessica.

"Hey girl, what's up?"

I felt oddly cheered up already. "Want to go bowling?"

"One sec," she said. I waited while her muffled voice had a brief conversation with someone else. "You want some girl time or just some fun?"

I hadn't expected a choice like that. "Uh," I fumbled, unsure of what the right answer was, "girl time? If that's okay?"

"Of course!" Jessica replied, as brightly as always. "Do you want Angela and Samantha to be there?"

So many decisions, I groaned to myself, but I couldn't help but be touched by how thoughtful my friend was being. "I wouldn't mind if they came."

"Sunset Lanes in half an hour, then?"

"Sounds perfect." As always, I was anxious about the social interaction, but somehow it seemed like it might be exactly the right thing for me in this situation.

Thirty minutes later I pulled up to the bowling alley. Only a few lights were on, but Jessica was standing in the doorway and bouncing up and down. I hurried over and she engulfed me in a hug that seemed entirely too large for her small frame to manage.

"It's usually closed on Sundays but Sam works here so she turned on a couple things for us," she explained, ushering me inside. Angela smiled from where she was tugging on a pair of bowling shoes. Samantha waved lazily from her seat in front of the one lit lane.

I waved shyly back, surprised by how pleased I felt to be seeing the girls. I had never really been a people person, but maybe that had been for a lack of people to be around. I was willing to try a new version of me.

"How good are you at bowling?" Samantha asked, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward.

"Um." On a scale of one to ten, I was a negative three. "Not very?"

"That's fine," Angela said, propping herself up on one knee. "I'm not very good either." She made what seemed to me like pointed eye contact with Jessica.

"Me neither!" Jessica announced perkily and, to my ears, unconvincingly. Edward and Jacob were making me paranoid. "I'm not in danger of dying so I don't try very hard." Okay, I could believe that.

"If you don't bowl a 280 once a month they fire you," Samantha said with such a straight face that I wasn't sure if she was joking or not. Then her mouth twitched and Jessica dissolved into laughter. I found myself smiling tentatively, enjoying the camaraderie. I forced myself to relax. There were no secrets to untangle here.

Angela picked up a ball, tested its weight, and then threw it straight into the gutter. It rolled slowly down while Samantha whistled derisively and punched Angela gently in the shoulder. "Better luck next time."

"Your turn, Bella," Jessica ordered sweetly. I made a martyred face but picked out a ball, hefted it, and sent it spinning toward the pins. It knocked the two on the farthest edge down and Angela clapped for me.

Nobody was shocked when Samantha won, but what was surprising was that I got second, with a (for me) respectable 115 points. Jessica whooped when I knocked over a personal best of four pins on my last throw and I couldn't help but feel a little satisfied.

"Go again or get dinner?" Samantha asked. Jessica and Angela voted for dinner, so I agreed with them. Samantha shut everything down and locked the bowling alley up and we piled into our respective vehicles to head to the best diner in town, a place I had often been to with Charlie throughout my limited stays in Forks. Once I arrived, the host steered me toward the table where the other girls sat, and I joined them without fanfare. I didn't even need to look at the menu to know what I would be ordering. "I'll have a pasta primavera without chicken or shrimp, please."

The waitress smiled at me, and I smiled back. "Hi, Cora. How's Waylon doing?" I asked.

"He's fine," Cora said in her pleasant, soft voice. "Just bought a new—well, an old—boat to fix up. Tell Charlie we say hi."

The other girls made their orders and we settled down into comfortable silence. Samantha smiled at her phone. Angela stared into her drink. Jessica was quiet, which meant she was probably setting some personal record for fewest number of words uttered per minute. The silence around the table didn't feel uncomfortable, though. It was rather friendly.

Cora returned with our drinks at the spell was broken.

"How did you do on the quiz on Friday?" Samantha asked Angela. The tall girl made a face and gestured fluidly with one hand, and Samantha accepted it as a response.

"Oh Sam," Jessica said with as much enthusiasm as if she'd been waiting to ask the question all night, "who did you ask to the dance?"

Sam grimaced. "I haven't yet, I forgot that it was coming up."

"Rob doesn't have a date yet," Angela contributed, unable to maintain a serious expression for even a second before she burst out laughing. Jessica giggled along and Sam rolled her eyes tolerantly. I stared at my Coke, feeling suddenly awkward and out of place.

"Hey, Bella, what about you? Do you have a date for the Sadie Hawkins?" Jessica asked, seeming to pick up on my discomfort.

"I wasn't aware that there was a Sadie Hawkins," I replied. It wasn't the entire truth—I had picked up chatter here and there, but had actively tuned it out because I wasn't interested in dancing.

"Why don't you invite Edward Cullen?" Samantha was clearly joking, but I still cringed. I didn't want my feud with the antagonistic boy to become a running joke.

"He wouldn't say yes anyway," Jessica chuckled. "Nobody that good-looking is straight."

"Not everyone who's cute is gay," Angela said, sounding slightly wistful. "The rest of the Cullens are in straight relationships."

"Yeah," Samantha sighed. "it's too bad… I'd do any of them."

"They all feel like my type, even the ones who aren't," Jessica agreed. "Never tell Mike that I said that, though."

"There's something weird about dating family, even if they're only related by marriage, though," Samantha commented, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"I don't plan on moving in with Mike for a few years yet." Jessica snickered softly.

"Hey, you have a partner," Angela complained. "Some of us are still single."

Jessica punched Angela gently in the shoulder. "At least I'm guaranteed a date to the dance. Angela, did you ask anyone?"

Angela shook her head. "No date, but I'll still show up."

"Bella, you should come too!" Jessica exclaimed, as though she'd just had the best idea in the entire world. "We'll all dance with you, it'll be fun!"

I made a skeptical face. "I don't enjoy crowds, or loud music, or dancing."

She pulled a face, but conceded. "Will you come dress shopping with me, at least? You can tell me all about what's popular in Phoenix."

I doubted that I would be at all helpful in picking out a dress for a dance, but I nodded anyway. I liked hanging out with Jessica and I appreciated that she wasn't pushing me to attend the dance after I had said no. "Who else will be there?"

"Just me and Angela."

"I can't make it," Samantha explained. "My peak hours are their time off."

"Oh, okay." I swirled my Coke and took a sip. "When and where?"

"We're headed out to Port Angeles on Friday after school," Angel answered.

Cora arrived with our meals before I had a chance to respond, and silence fell as we enjoyed the diner's good food.

The house was dark when I pulled into the driveway, all the lights off except the one over the porch. Charlie's cruiser wasn't in front of the house, so I assumed that he was out for the night, probably over at the Blacks' house. I thought back to my earlier conversation with him and hoped that he wouldn't mention it to the Blacks. If Jacob knew that I was still pursuing the issue, he might be angry.

I let myself in and headed straight upstairs to my room, where I flung myself on the bed and let out a deep, gusty sigh.

The girls didn't find anything off about Edward Cullen, except for his unusual family arrangement and his lack of girlfriends. I wondered about that for a minute, but put it out of my head.

I groaned and rolled over. If I spent as much time thinking about my schoolwork as I did about Edward Cullen… well, it wasn't like my grades had dropped. Come to think of it, wasn't that normally something that people said when they were head-over-heels infatuated? I chuckled at the thought. Not madly in love, just mad.

I heard the door downstairs open. "Dad?" I called.

"Yeah, Bells," he called back. "Don't come down, I'm headed straight for bed."

He sounded tired, or maybe sad. I thought about coming down anyway to lend my support but shied away from the idea. Unlike the dynamic between myself and Renee, my relationship with Charlie was built on mutual stoicism. We did nice things for each other without making a fuss or even talking about it.

I looked at the alarm clock beside the bed. It was getting late, and tomorrow was a school day. There was no point in letting irritating boys keep me from a good night's sleep, so I turned off the lamp and closed my eyes.

Sleep was a long time in coming.