Twilight is the property of Stephanie Meyer. Anya Simms is all mine.
Chapter 48: Spring Formal
JPOV
Friday, May 27th, 2005 Forks, WA
When you have done the high school circuit as often as my family has, one Formal Dance bleeds into the next.
No, I have never snacked on a co-ed at a dance, it's an expression. What I mean to say is that they're repetitive and at times boring. This year's was anything but. When Eddie Boy had asked Bella to the dance, I could hear Anya's voice in my head mumbling about 'ridiculous tropes', and sure enough, Alice and I were roped in as the dutiful double date. Beats the shit out of me how Emmett and Rosalie got out of having to attend; maybe my creator forgot about the other two 'teenage' vampires.
The evening was awkward. Mainly because I wanted Anya as my date. It was the first time in my existence I actually wanted to be at a high school dance but at the same time, I hated how I couldn't actually be with the date I wanted.
The gym was transformed, drenched in soft lights and the kind of charm you only see in old black-and-white films. Spring Formal, they called it, and I was trying not to grumble too much about the role I was forced to play—until Anya took the stage. Watching her glide across that platform with Mike Newton, of all people, I felt something deep inside me shift, a sensation I'd never experienced before. Mine.
Anya was full of surprises, that much had always been true. But that night, she was something else entirely. The lights wrapped around her like a spotlight, capturing the intricate henna pattern trailing down her arm. She'd asked me to draw it, to trace her skin with the delicate vines and leaves. "You're my artist," she had teased, her fingers brushing over my scars as if they were battle medals. "Turn your war wounds into something beautiful." And I did.
Now, as I stood there, watching her, it was as if she were telling everyone in this town—though they wouldn't understand—that she belonged to me. A secret only we shared. And damn if I didn't fall in love with her all over again in that moment. Alice, ever the sharp one, caught on instantly. Leaning in with that knowing smile, she whispered, "I knew you two were perfect," before dragging Bella into a hasty pose for a photo.
The four of us, a picture-perfect image of high school normalcy. Except I couldn't tear my eyes away from Anya. Even as we faked smiles for the camera, my gaze drifted to the stage, to the woman who was turning heads without even trying. It reminded me of our joyride to Seattle, how every man in that coffee shop stopped what they were doing the second she walked in. It was no different now. Every teen in that gym was entranced, not that I needed my gift to feel it. The entire room seemed to hold its breath as Anya and Mike waltzed across the stage, their voices harmonizing to "Dance Me to the End of Love." I had no idea the kid could dance.
For a brief moment, the predator in me flared, a primal urge to stake my claim, but then she spun around, and the sight of her henna tattoo, the large red flower centered around her bite mark, calmed me. It was like a brand, not just for her, but for me—a reminder of who she was and what she meant to me. That's when I noticed Eddie Boy's reaction. His brow furrowed just a fraction, the smallest twitch of his lips betraying his annoyance. He was confused, no doubt thinking how brazen Anya was being. Maybe even reckless. His emotions raced the gamut of protective and bewilderment. I'm surprise the idiot man-child didn't crush Bella's hand the way he was holding just a touch too tightly.
Bella, poor Bella, didn't know what to make of it. Her expression was one of complete confusion, trying to reconcile the quiet, eccentric librarian she knew with the woman who now commanded the room with grace and confidence.
And then I heard Bella's soft whisper, just loud enough to catch my ear amidst the music and murmurs. "Did Anya tattoo over her bite mark?" Her tone wasn't one of curiosity or awe, but rather pity, like she assumed Anya was ashamed of it, that she wanted to hide it. I watched as Bella glanced down at her own scar, her fingers tracing the crescent shape with a touch of reverence, the love she felt for it unmistakable. That mark, to her, was a symbol of what Eddie Boy had done, of the life she'd chosen.
I took an unnecessary breath, centering myself, letting the calm wash over me. I knew I had to reach Eddie Boy before he overthought this, before that protectiveness of his kicked into overdrive. Before he did something stupid. Opening up my mind, I sent a clear message, hoping he'd hear me. It's okay, bro. Bella thinks Anya hates the bite mark. She's not going to want to do the same to hers.
Edward's head snapped toward me, his eyes narrowing as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. His nostrils flared, his jaw tightening in that way it always did when he was trying to keep himself in check. I just rolled my eyes at him, a silent calm down that he'd catch even without our connection.
Anya wasn't ashamed of her scar; fuck that, she wore it like a badge of honour. But Bella didn't need to know that, not now. Let her believe what she wanted, let her hold onto the love she had for her own mark – James' mark. Yep, Eddie Boy hadn't claimed Bella like I had claimed Anya. And they say I'm the struggling vegetarian. Mine.
When the music came to a close, the room erupted in applause, but I was too focused on the way her eyes swept over the crowd and landed on Edward and me. There was a flicker of something in her gaze—amusement, maybe a touch of exasperation. She stepped off the stage, graceful as ever, and as she passed by us, she caught the tension hanging in the air between Edward and me.
"Sacrament, you truly are a special kind of stupid, Heathcliff," she muttered low enough for only us to hear, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Bella loves you."
Edward's expression softened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he absorbed what she'd said. The tension in his shoulders eased, the sharp edge in his eyes fading as he glanced over at Bella, who was still caught up in the afterglow of the performance, unaware of the brief but intense exchange.
Anya didn't wait for a response; she just kept moving. Edward, the inept idiot man-child he was, finally saw the truth of it, gave a small nod in her direction, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely-there smile. He knew she was right, and for once, he let it go. About damn time too!
The best part of the evening, though, wasn't the intricate henna designs or the unexpected dance routines. It was how Mike and Anya chose to close out the night. They'd played it safe up until then, but as the evening drew to a close, I caught a familiar spark in Anya's eyes—the kind that told me she had something up her sleeve.
They stood on the stage, each in front of a microphone, and then I heard it. The unmistakable club beats of an old '70s song: "Stumblin' In." So that's what Emmett had been humming incessantly for the past few days. He must've been in on it, helping the Forks High Duo give it a modern twist, and they didn't disappoint. The gym transformed as the first notes filled the air, and suddenly it wasn't just a high school dance but some inner-city club.
The atmosphere was electric. The way Anya and Mike commanded the stage was something else, their voices blending perfectly with the updated track. The students were hooked, swept up in the energy. Even the wallflowers, the kids who had spent the evening hiding in corners, found themselves drawn to the dance floor, moving to the beat like they'd been waiting for this moment all night.
Just as I was getting lost in the music, though, something made me pause. The chorus of "Wuthering Heights" echoed through the gym, the haunting line, "Heathcliff, it's me, Cathy…" slicing through the upbeat vibe. My instincts flared. Was Anya pushing things too far? Was she about to cross a line that would draw unwanted attention? Or did Emmett do this?
But it was just a tease—a playful scratch on the record before the beat seamlessly flowed back into "Stumblin' In." Mike and Anya picked up the lyrics again, their voices dancing together. Well shit – Anya was giving Heathcliff and The Duck a soundtrack to their love story. It was her way of acknowledging the grand romance unfolding right in front of us, the one destined to play out no matter what we did.
I remembered how Anya had mentioned that there were movies about them. Was this her subtle homage to how this scene might play out on the big screen? Her own quiet way of giving this fictional couple their big movie montage?
Even Edward, with all his caution and self-control, couldn't help but get caught up in the moment. I watched as he softly sang to Bella, his voice barely above a whisper, guiding her across the floor with a tenderness that was almost jarring coming from him. Bella, her clunky cast and all, moved with him, and for a moment, the tension in him eased. It was like watching him transform into a carefree teenage boy, and I felt a surprising mix of emotions from him—relief, joy, even a touch of recklessness.
Damn, I thought, he really does just need to learn to chill out and let loose.
He must've heard me because he suddenly gave Bella a quick, spontaneous spin and dip before—what?—he kissed her. Light, sweet, nothing like the careful, measured gestures he usually allowed himself.
Well, shit, Anya. If that isn't a big movie montage moment of high school romance, I don't know what is.
And then there was Alice, always so attuned to the shifts in the room, tugging on my arm. I glanced at her, and then at Anya, who gave me a quick wink before flicking her eyes over to Edward and Bella. Somehow, in the midst of all this, they'd ended up at the centre of the dance floor, with every other student dancing around them like it was choreographed.
Honestly, I was beginning to think this was a movie. How else do you explain something like that? But then again, Anya was on stage, completely in her element with Mike, their energy radiating outward, and I had witnessed before how she can capture an entire coffee bar without saying a word, so her singing and dancing up there? Of course, she somehow managed to turn an ordinary high school dance into something that felt straight out of a cinematic dream. Did she do this often in Montreal? Did she go clubbing often? I should take her to Seattle one night, to a real club.
Alice was laughing lightly beside me, breaking me from my thoughts as she pulled me toward the dance floor. The ever-dutiful double date, she and I added ourselves to the mix, moving around Edward and Bella as if we'd been planning this all along. The whole gym was alive, everyone caught up in the moment, the music, the magic. Heathcliff and The Duck, lost in their own world at the centre of it all, finally letting go, allowing themselves to just be. And Heathcliff it looked like making up for lost time as he continued to kiss Bella before dipping her. I opened my senses, for a moment fearful he might give into his baser instincts but there was no bloodlust, just a tiny amount of the other type of lust typical of a teenage boy. Even a vampire one.
When the final notes faded and the crowd erupted into applause, I watched Mike and Anya take their bows, their faces lit with the kind of joy that only comes from a night like this. And then, through the noise, I heard it—Anya's soft voice, barely audible over the roar of the crowd, yet somehow perfectly clear to me. "End scene," she murmured, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.
It was such a small thing, just two words, but it hit me like a finishing touch on a masterpiece. She knew exactly what she'd done, the magic she'd spun over the evening, and with those words, she was wrapping it all up, tying a bow on the night she'd crafted with her own hands. As for Heathcliff and the Duck, they were still lost in their world and Eddie Boy was still emoting lust for his girlfriend.
Was this the spice Anya alluded to? Does Eddie Boy man up tonight?
A/N #1: My inspiration for Anya and Mike's finale was from listening to CYRIL's cover of Stumblin' In.
A/N #2 I think it's in New Moon (the movie) and Bella is putting pictures in her scrapbook, including one from the Spring Formal of the double date. Jasper's eyes are not on the photographer but instead he is looking out of the corner of his eyes. Years ago, I read a fanfic where that image was Bella realizing Jasper had feelings for her (I wish I could give credit where it's due, but I forget the fic and the author – if you know please drop a comment and I will gladly give credit!). Anyways, I took that scene and inspiration and tweaked it to fit my narrative. Jasper only has eyes for Anya who is on stage entertaining the students.
A/N #3: Two more chapters & an epilogue to go!
