Edward’s Point of View
Things were bad. No, not bad. Fucking bad. Fucking terrible. The thesaurus couldn’t hold enough synonyms for the state of things: abominable, appalling, atrocious, deplorable, disgusting, ghastly, horrendous, horrific, repulsive.
Ironically, all those words also applied to me.
In general, I like myself. I’m intelligent, rather witty, talented at several things, and a relatively good son and brother. But I’m not ignorant of my own shortcomings, and in this case, ‘shortcomings’ just didn’t quite cover it. I was a damn fucking heartless asshat. The face squinting back at me when I finally gave up sleeping off my hangover the next morning was unrecognizable. My bottom lip was swollen; my right cheekbone had turned a deep shade of purple, and a lighter purple tint traced up around my eye socket. It had been a good fight. In fact, now that I officially hated myself more than I hated James, I could admire his ability to throw in a few good punches even after toking all night.
Still, I was glad he looked worse than I did. He might have more experience with fights, but I’d been livid and less intoxicated. In fact, when I thought it about, this was my first legitimate fight at least since elementary school. I’d always considered myself above all the mindless fist-throwing. Fights were for mindless drunks and people incapable of articulating their thoughts appropriately. But fuck, had it felt good, that first connection between my knuckles and his jaw. Even the punches he tossed my way had been welcome, because hell, I’d wanted to do the same thing to myself the moment Bella started puking.
She was trashed. She’d said she wasn’t trashed. She had told me point blank she wasn’t that drunk, but drinking enhanced her lying abilities and inhibited my ability to tell. I’d believed her. Why wouldn’t I? Maybe I just didn’t want to think she was drunk. Maybe I had been selfishly hoping she was in the same state I was –tipsy and confident but still aware, still mostly in control. Then everything that had happened would mean . . . it would mean that she had feelings for me, too, wouldn’t it? She wanted me, not James. James was clearly at her command, and yet it had been my lap that she had straddled (holy hell, talk about having to grip the armrests of the chair not to take her right there), my neck she sucked into a blue minefield, my name she had gasped into my shoulder.
But despite her accusation, it was she that didn’t talk to me unless she was drunk. If she had been sober, it probably would have been James sprawled on top of her. The thought made my stomach roll. If it had been anyone else, I at least tell myself I would have graciously conceded and stepped aside, but James had no concern for her well being. Taking her snowboarding without a helmet. Letting her run around outside without a coat or shoes. Allowing her to drink and smoke on top of a concussion! What the hell!
My face was throbbing but it didn’t hurt enough. I could blame James all I wanted. I was worse. I should have pulled her out of the shed as soon as she stepped in. I should have known by her cocky grin and bare feet and certainly by the sexy confidence that she was drunk. I should have never joined the shotgun. Better yet, I should have thrown myself across the room and never let her take that first hit. She wasn’t a smoker. That much was obvious, and I loved it, and I didn’t want her to smoke. I didn’t like the fuzziness of her eyes when the pot had pulled her brain up to float around the smoky ceiling of the room; it reminded me too much of her distant gaze as she’d lain crumpled on the mountain. I shouldn’t have spent the afternoon hiding in my bunk listening to music, trying not to feel sorry for myself because James had won. I should never have kissed her. No, I couldn’t regret kissing her. Maybe that was the only thing I’d done right. But my timing could have been better.
So maybe James couldn’t be trusted to take care of her – that wasn’t surprising, since the guy couldn’t eve really take care of himself, much less another person. He’d been irresponsible with her safety when she’d clearly placed a lot of trust in him. He was ruining her with her innocent trust. Again, I loved that about her, that she was still innocent enough to actually trust people, but god was it misplaced on James. I would kill for her to trust me that way, and I’d certainly pay better attention to her needs--
But I’d shoved my hands down her pants and dry-humped her until she puked her guts out. I was the worst kind of vile.
“Hi, I’m Edward Cullen, and I’m a fucking hypocrite,” I muttered, glaring at my reflection, my fingers gripping the ceramic counter. A toilet flushed, and out stumbled Jasper, his mouth a deep frown and his eyes bloodshot.
“Join the fucking club,” he retorted, falling against the counter beside me and turning the water on. Instead of just washing his hands, he leaned down and cupped the water against his face again and again, before standing upright and letting it run down his neck.
“What did you do? You got Alice out of there pretty damn quick.”
He scoffed and rubbed at his eyes, “How about I let her smoke up in the first place? Sick as a dog by the time I got her upstairs.”
“She doesn’t smoke?”
“She said she did. I’m pretty sure she was lying. To impress me? What’s with that shit?”
“Yeah, why the hell would someone lie about something to impress someone? It’s unheard of. That’s not your fault.” I rolled my eyes because his problems were pretty insignificant next to mine. All he did was let his girlfriend get too high.
“I should have known, and I shouldn’t have let her smoke so much or something. You know, taken care of her or something.”
I shook my head slowly, “Not your fault, Jasper. You can’t be blamed for trusting her.” But I knew he felt bad, and I understood exactly why. After all, I had trusted Bella, too. But that wasn’t her fault.
“And beyond that, I left my best man to take the fall for it all.” He gave me a hard pat on the back as he said this and cast me one of the most apologetic frowns I have ever seen on the face of Jasper Whitlock.
I shrugged his hand away, “Don’t worry about it.”
“No way, Edward. That was fucked up.”
“You had to get Alice safe. You kept her out of trouble; that counts for something.”
“Yeah, but I should have been there beating the shit out of James with you. And I should have stuck around – it’s not right you and James are the only ones in trouble for all the shit that went down last night.”
It sucked, but I couldn’t see it as unfair. Because James and I were the bad seeds anyways, so of course we deserved the blame. I accepted that if it meant Jasper and Alice and, most importantly Bella, got off. Usually I’m not so self-sacrificing, but in this case, three days in-school suspension was the least I could do. The fight had been broken up, but by that point the alcohol had mostly burned out of my system, and I guess I didn’t smell enough like pot for anyone to investigate. With the arrival of the chaperones, students had scattered to the winds, and when the dust settled it was only me and James left grappling in the dirt. We’d been hauled inside and both busted for fighting. I wasn’t sure what all James had earned, because I’d only seen him in passing in the hall, just long enough to admire my work on his face. They had warned him my parents might press charges because he was supposed to be a responsible adult leader here, but I was proud of the fact that I’d started it. Finally I’d done something for Bella.
All things considered –that is, the alcohol and marijuana hiding in my system—I got off pretty easy. I guess the teachers were too tired to look too closely at the situation, and then James had claimed he deserved the punch, and Lauren Mallory herself had confirmed to the teachers we’d been fighting over a girl. The entire thing was shrugged off as primal male rivalry. So instead of the circus that would have resulted had I been busted for fighting, being drunk, and smoking pot at a school event, all I was got was four days of in-school suspension for fighting, and I was going to have to make at least three visits to the school counselor to talk about my anger problem and “any substance problems I might have.” So clearly the fact that I was under the influence of something was not lost, but the tired faculty –in this case, Mrs. Goff the Spanish teacher and Ms. Warden the chemistry teacher-- didn’t feel like dealing with it at two in the morning. I was a first-time offender, anyways, and a damn good student.
“Let’s not talk about should-haves,” I sighed, leaning forward to cradle my head in my hands. It was hurting. There were more things to think about, more ugly thoughts to try and wade through. But I had an entire morning of lodge-arrest and an entire afternoon of travel, and four whole days of in-school suspension, and probably six months of grounding to brainstorm all the ways in which I deserved to be burned alive. First I needed to see Bella. Because she had been royally fucked up the last I’d seen her.
Reading my mind, Jasper asked, “Care to go see about the girls?” He had yet to ask me any questions about what had happened, or even why I’d thrown that first punch. Jasper hated James in the first place, so I didn’t expect him to condemn the fight, but I had never been so grateful for his lack of curiosity about things in general. He probably didn’t really give a shit what went down between me and Bella, or at least not enough to ask before I offered.
I nodded and followed him downstairs to one of the private rooms where Bella and Alice had been hidden. This was where the gods had decided to throw me a bone, and the only reason I’d been able to get any sleep that night. Emmett and Rosalie had befriended one of the guys who ran the lodge, and it just so happened that his wife was a registered nurse. So when they’d seen Bella fall and knock herself for a loop, they’d snatched her up and helped Jasper pull Alice to this Peter guy, who had called his wife. The couple had hidden the girls in a private room on the first floor, free of charge, and Bella had finally received the care and attention that she needed and deserved. I’d only been let in long enough to see this nurse Charlotte forcing crackers and water down Bella’s throat before Rosalie insisted Jasper and I leave before teachers started to notice the commotion. I don’t think Bella even saw me, and maybe that was for the best.
Goodness in people frequently baffles me. I never expect it. Not that I have just an overwhelmingly dismal view of humanity but . . . people who are truly good are a rarity. To just happen to find two people on our ski trip that were willing to spend their night cleaning up my mess overwhelmed me with gratitude. And they had indeed spent their entire night; that much was obvious the second Jasper and I snuck down the hall and into the room.
Bella and Alice were both tucked into the queen-sized bed, the covers tight around Alice’s chin but twisted around Bella’s legs. Rosalie was perched by the window, peeling a banana while Emmett snored in the other chair, his head resting awkwardly against the wall. Peter had passed out on the couch, and I watched as Charlotte crossed the room to pull the covers back to Bella’s shoulders. Exhaustion set the mood, and I wondered if maybe I should have insisted on staying down here. But what could I possibly have done that these responsible adults hadn’t? I tended to just fuck things up. I hated relying on the kindness of strangers.
“How are our girls?” Jasper whispered, stopping a few feet away from Alice to cast a guilt-ridden frown at her sleeping face. She looked happy and peaceful, but Bella looked troubled and twisted around until the covers were pushed back around her hips.
“Yours is doing fine,” Charlotte whispered back to him. She hesitated before laying a gentle hand on Bella’s flushed forehead, then pulled it back with a frown. Bella mumbled and tossed and Charlotte froze until she fell still before turning to me and adding, “Yours has probably been better.”
The assumption of possession made my breath catch and my ears burn. I liked it a lot.
I saw Rosalie lift an eyebrow but ignored her, stepping closer as Charlotte moved to the side. The flush covered Bella’s face and traveled down her neck and across her chest; she’d changed clothing, and the tank top snagged around her middle, exposing the moisture on her lower back. Her neck and collarbone were dotted with dark hickeys and I cringed to think I had done that. Maybe under different circumstances it would have made me giddy, a physical sign of the fire we’d let loose between us, but now they just stood as a grotesque reminder of what I had done to her. I had been so out of control that I’d left her throat battered. Unable to stop myself, I ran a finger down the side of her neck. Her skin was on fire. I brushed away the hair that stuck to her damp forehead, watching as her eyes shifted behind her blue lids and dark lashes fluttered against her pale cheeks. There were dark circles under her eyes, and a large grey knot on her forehead where she’d hit the railing. Her skin served as the canvas for a macabre painting of ghostly whites, flushed reds, and painful blues and purples.
“Edward . . .” My name rolled softly from between her lips. I jerked my hand away in surprise. Was she awake after all?
“I’m here, Bella,” I answered, leaning closer, but Charlotte sent me a sharp look and whispered, “Don’t wake her. She’s had a hard time falling asleep and an even harder time staying that way.”
“But she—“
“She’s been mumbling all night. You’re Edward, I take it?” I nodded, not sure what that meant, but she didn’t say more.
Stepping away so as not to chance waking her, I pressed for more information, “Should she have gone to the hospital? She—“
“Maybe,” Charlotte sighed. “She was adamant that she didn’t want to go, though, and there’s not much they could have done for her there that I couldn’t do here. Fluids, carbs, and time. You kids kill me with the things you do. I’m not condemning having fun, but honestly, this girl was in no shape to—“
“Believe me, I know,” I bit out through gritted teeth. I was already ripping myself apart internally; I sure didn’t need her adding fuel to the fire. Bella moaned and twisted again, and Charlotte returned to her side to drape a damp rag across her forehead. She was certainly an attentive nurse, and I wondered what could possibly possess her to take such good care of a complete stranger. I could think of no way to show how deep my gratitude ran. Perhaps I could convince Dad to make some big donation to the lodge? But that would probably require an explanation . . .
Seeing me watching, Charlotte’s face softened as she assured me, “She’ll be fine. Eventually. She should be able to make it on the plane all right, but it’ll be a day or two before she’s back to normal. My suggestion,” she gave me a pointed look, “is that she takes it easy on the substances.”
If I had my way, Bella would never smoke again. And never be drunk again. Tipsy Bella was silly – she’d been amusing as hell at the Halloween party. Drunk Bella was terrifying, and not in a good way. Images of her moaning beneath me the night before sent a shiver across my shoulders. Drunk Bella was too sexy and too horny for her own good, and I would do whatever I could to protect her from herself. If that meant I never smoked again, so be it. I wasn’t big on it anyways; the right opportunity, sure, I’d partake, but it wasn’t that big of a sacrifice. And if keeping Bella safe from the likes of James and myself until she found some guy she and I could both trust to take over watching out for her, if that meant I didn’t even drink . . . abstaining from alcohol was a much bigger sacrifice. But hell, I owed it to her, especially after the shit I’d pulled the night before.
Alice had said she was a virgin. I couldn’t know. Maybe Alice didn’t know, or maybe Alice was a confused stoner; after all, she’d said it as a question. But thank the entire pantheon of gods I’d at least had the sense not to . . . but even that had been selfish. I just hadn’t been able to hold off coming. I hadn’t actually had to make the decision. What if we had . . . but we hadn’t. And I couldn’t think about it, because the self-hatred was already all-consuming.
It figures the only drunk girl I take advantage of would be the one I actually want. That, beyond that, I was the one contributing to her downfall. James and I both deserved to die. And actually, maybe Alice and Jasper too, because they were pretty much encouraging her plunge into the den of sin as well. Emmett and my sister seemed to be the only ones not implicated, and believe me, it felt odd to credit them for it: irresponsible Emmett and prissy Rosalie.
With a sigh, Rosalie suddenly stood and motioned for me to follow, “Come on. Let’s cover those hickeys before you completely destroy Bella’s reputation.”
But Lauren Mallory would see to that. If only I had really thought of that then, rather than later. But she was all smiles and giggles when she found me perched on Rosalie’s bed, my sister dabbing make up cover stuff all over the marks.
“That’s not working at all,” she teased, crossing her arms and looking patronizingly down at me. Rosalie glared. “Man, Edward, she really sucked you dry, huh?”
“Not funny,” I insisted. I was too exhausted for her playfulness. It was my own fault for letting her tail along the past couple of days, but she had ignored my hints to get lost and instead littered her conversation with mentions about Bella. It was hard to tell off someone who was subtly feeding your addiction, filling in all the blanks of the questionnaire on Bella I was incapable of finding the answers for myself. I don’t doubt that she knew she was doing it, and that it was cruel, but each reference was so quickly slid in that before I could ask her to change the subject, she had. Bella’s favorite color was green. Her birthday was September 13th but she hadn’t had a party since elementary school – I assumed because the idea of being the center of attention at even her own party would horrify her. She liked Oreos with peanut butter, Dr. Pepper, and spaghetti. Gerber daisies were her favorite and she found red roses pretentious. How Lauren knew these things was irrelevant; girls are, in general, more observant, I’ll admit. I listened to the inane facts, memorizing each one like a lovesick little girl. I’d better be careful, or next I’d be doodling her name on my notebooks, or maybe mine with her surname. Edward Swan all over my Euro-history notebook. That’s what girls did, right?
“How’s she doing?” she asked, the lack of sincerity screaming from her question.
I answered anyways, “Not so good.”
“Is she in trouble?”
“No.”
“Girl should learn to hold her junk. She’s a walking disaster,” Lauren snorted, shaking her head.
“If that’s all you’re here to say, you’ve said it and should leave,” I retorted, my eyes narrowing. Rosalie’s fingers had begun to press harder against my skin, but at my dismissal of Lauren the pressure lightened. I wasn’t the only one annoyed.
“I’m just a little confused, because see, you and me hang out for two days, and then suddenly you go off with—“
I rolled my eyes, “Come on, Lauren, you know nothing was going on between you and me.”
“Apparently jerking girls around is what you do best, Edward Cullen.”
“Lauren. Leave. Now.” Rosalie’s glare was fierce enough to make Lauren take a step back. I didn’t know who my sister was protecting now, me or Bella, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that you don’t mess with my Rosalie Cullen. In elementary school, before I’d learned to hold my own, she’d beat up a guy for bullying me. My sister, oozing prissiness, had a mean right hook, even at nine.
“I just want to know what happened between Edward and Bella.”
“It’s none of your business,” I snapped.
And just like that I had sealed Bella’s and my fate. Because everything was Lauren Mallory’s business. But like I said, I didn’t think about it at the time because all I was thinking of was Bella’s tortured neck and how the hell she was going to hide that from her father. I didn’t bother to watch Lauren’s back as she stormed off.
“There. That’s as good as it’s going to get,” Rosalie sighed, her hands falling away. “If you don’t look closely, you won’t see them . . . just don’t rub against it. And maybe wear a scarf. And a turtleneck.”
“What about Bella?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes, “Do you really think I’ve brought her this far just to let her fall now? Maybe I’ll teach her about mascara and lipstain while I’m at it.”
“Why have you been so . . . nice? It’s not like you to put your neck out for some—“
“Don’t question my motives, Edward,” she scoffed. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe you aren’t the only one that likes Bella and wants to keep her around a bit longer?”
I hesitated, then pointed out, “Rose . . . you don’t like anyone.”
Her laughter rang out harsh against my sensitive ears, “That’s true. But she and Emmett are pretty funny together. And it’s quite a bit of fun watching you squirm around her.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded, but she just laughed again and ordered, “Go, pack up your stuff. I’ve got to pack Alice’s and Bella’s besides my own. You owe me big, little brother, for all this. I’ve saved you and that little girlfriend of yours from a lot of shit.” I had risen and gave her a long look as she began tugging the sheets off her bed.
“I know,” I replied after a moment. “Thank you.” My gratitude seemed to catch her off guard; she gave me a wary nod before returning to her work.
I didn’t know what to do with the rest of my morning. I showered again and packed alongside Jasper, and still it was only ten, and the busses wouldn’t take us to the airport until noon. Jasper and I wandered back down to check on “our girls” again, but they were still sleeping and Charlotte wouldn’t let us linger. So the two of us went for a walk in silence. The cold air helped the pain in my face and skull, but did nothing to clear the chaos inside.
At some point, I needed to explain to Bella that I hadn’t realized how drunk she was. I needed her to understand that I would never have done those things if I had realized I was taking advantage of her. I needed to warn her about James and apologize for not protecting her better – or at all. I needed to apologize for being such a dick and explain it was only because I didn’t know what to do with all the foreign emotions. I cared about her. I cared about my friends, sure, too –Emmett and Jasper, and I guess my sister. But this was different. I didn’t have to worry about them. They weren’t half as fragile as this girl was, nor half so alluring to bad things. They were all strong and rough and had lost every fragment of the innocence and naivety that Bella stubbornly held onto.
How ironic. The very timidity and fragility that had initially annoyed me so much, was now one of the most beautiful things about Bella. She was one of those rare good people, and I’d be damned if I let James, myself, and Forks High School destroy that in her.
But what was my plan of action? If she was smart, she’d never speak to me again. That didn’t mean anything, though, because Bella was the most unpredictable person I had ever met. She had seemed to hate me pre-ski trip, and of course she could only hate me more now, but occasionally she said or did things that sent me reeling with confusion. I couldn’t figure out what triggered positive or negative interactions between us, though.
Regardless, the way I saw it, she would either speak to me again or not. If she did, things would be easy. I could apologize, give her my shiteous excuses, and assure her I would do whatever it took to make it up to her and to keep her safe. Because that didn’t sound creepy as hell.
If she didn’t speak to me . . . I would just do it. I’d be the bad cold she couldn’t shake, that shadow on the wall, following her from a distance, running background checks on boys who spoke to her and letting the air out of their tires if she agreed to a date with one I didn’t approve of. I’d make sure she took the right books home from class, and if she looked to be struggling in a subject, I’d find some way to help her along. I’d keep a tight watch on Lauren Mallory and her volatile feelings towards Bella, and I’d play bodyguard like I had at the Halloween Party if Bella attended any more beer bashes. I’d . . . fuck, I’d check her engine and tires during homeroom, and I’d secretly pay for her lunch in advance at school because Lauren had mentioned she usually just got crackers and juice which was not enough, and I’d keep a packet of Kleenexes in my pocket in case she needed one during Euro-history.
Either way, I looked like a psycho stalker. I was doomed to be the fucking Phantom of Forks High School.
I knew something I could do to pay Peter and Charlotte back. When we reached the lower veranda, I picked up the couple solo cups strewn about. My scarf was buried in the dirt under the concrete bench ¬–the bench. Jasper noticed what I was doing and joined me in the shed, where we quickly collected cups, joints, and the guitar that had stupidly been left out in the cold. I cringed for it but it seemed to have survived. We tossed the trash, returned the guitar to its home, and I felt a little bit better about myself. I wanted to run tell Peter and Charlotte what I had just done, how I had behaved all responsibly and shit, but I didn’t. First of all, I had never needed validation before and I didn’t intend on starting now. But besides that, it was good practice for being the good-deed-doer in the shadows.
We checked on the girls again, but Rosalie and Charlotte had finally been forced to wake them so they could wash away the smell of weed and alcohol. And me. I couldn’t even be relieved by the fact that Bella was awake and lucid enough to take a shower because every thought just led me back to the self-loathing. I was just as bad as every hormone-driven teenage boy I had ever condemned.
Fortunately, the day picked up. Dozens of kids crammed into the kitchen to make sandwiches, and then the busses were suddenly outside and ready to be loaded. The best part of this was that it meant Jasper and I finally had something to do. We helped Emmett drag the girls’ things down, then went to the private room as students began piling onto the busses.
“Do you think you’ll be able to make it on the bus?” Charlotte was asking, crouched down in front of Bella, who sat on the edge of the bed, her damp hair pulled back into a ponytail as Rosalie worked on her neck. She was staring distantly at the carpet, all color gone from her face except for the bruise on her forehead and the deep circles under her eyes. She looked like shit, but beautiful shit, and I wanted to grovel at her feet right there.
Damnit, Edward Cullen does not let girls make him want to grovel.
Bella didn’t respond and Charlotte looked anxiously at Peter, suggesting, “Maybe we should drive her. The car might be easier on her than the bus.”
“No, I’m okay,” Bella whispered, her lips hardly moving. “You would . . . then you would have to say . . . I don’t want to be a bother . . .” Speaking was apparently too much, though, and she suddenly started gagging. Rosalie dove back and Charlotte grabbed a bucket from behind her and held it forward. Bella’s entire body shook but she managed to keep her stomach down, and after a minute she merely spit into the bucket and gasped for air.
Fuck shit fuck shit. Why didn’t my face hurt more? Why hadn’t I gotten in worse trouble? Bella, innocent and good Bella, was suffering more than anyone else on the trip, and she hadn’t even wanted to come! On the far side of the room, Jasper had pulled Alice onto his lap and the two were talking in hushed whispers. She looked a bit hung over, still a bit sleepy, but otherwise fine. Bella couldn’t even speak without retching.
Emmett popped into the doorway and announced, “Last call for loading. I saved us seats at the very front of the last bus.”
“I’m almost done,” Rosalie replied, diving back into work on Bella’s neck. Charlotte patted Bella’s arm and sent Peter another anxious glance.
“You’ve done so much already,” Bella insisted, staring intently at her hands. “This is penance, right? I’m a PSA.” She coughed and everyone flinched.
I wanted to punch the wall. Silly girl, you have nothing to pay penance for! I could feel my fists clenching and unclenching and when I thought about it, perhaps this was the punishment I was supposed to receive for it all. Seeing her so miserable was worse than any bruise or suspension could ever be.
“It could have been worse,” Charlotte offered. “Now you know better. That’s what being a kid is all about. If you’re sure you don’t want us to drive you – really, I don’t mind.”
Bella shook her head again and Charlotte helped her to her feet. It was then, as they turned toward the door that she saw me, but only in a spacial way. Her eyes were dull and foggy, her entire body drained. Nothing showed that she registered my presence. She shuffled her feet, pulled along by Charlotte at her side. I followed behind and anytime she started to wobble on her feet, gently reached out and put my hand on her back to steady her. It was nothing; I was hardly even touching her and I doubt she even noticed. But it made me feel like I was doing something.
At the steps of the bus, Emmett pulled her up and Rosalie slipped in front of me to push her up, and I took the opportunity to grab Charlotte’s arm and spit out, “I don’t know the right words to thank you.”
“It’s what I do,” she grinned, but I shook my head, “No, this was above and beyond the call of duty. Just . . . thank you.”
She patted my arm, “Hey, I was in high school once, too. It’s a rough time. The whole point is to screw up a lot now while adults are still around to help you fix things, but still, that was dangerous what she pulled yesterday.”
“I don’t think she realized what she was doing,” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. “But I should have. I should have—“
“Well just for next time. She sure is a stubborn thing, even all messed up, though – doesn’t really want to be taken care of,” Charlotte laughed, and it relieved me that she was laughing, because that had to mean Bella was at least improving. “Emmett said she gets hurt a lot.”
“Yeah, she’s a bit accident prone.”
“Maybe you should go into medicine yourself,” she teased.
“I mean, my dad’s a doctor, and it is something I’ve thought about . . .”
“Perfect!” she grinned. “Match made in heaven. Now stop worrying about thanking me and go get some bedside manner practice in. And take these; I’ve been making her chew one every hour or so. There’s no danger of her taking too many; she’s sort of a stubborn child about them . . . papaya mints,” she explained when I gave the small bag a wary look. “Nontraditional medicine but they’re great.”
I nodded, “All right. Thanks. Again.” She patted my arm, then gently shoved me towards the bus and joined Peter on the sidewalk. Inside, Bella and Rosalie were in the second row behind the driver’s seat, Jasper and Alice in front of them. Across the aisle, Emmett sat by the window.
“In case she starts puking, you can sit by her,” Emmett chuckled as I fell into the empty seat. What an insensitive – but I couldn’t harbor any ill-will towards him, because he had been good and responsible for probably about as long as he could manage now. It was against his nature.
I watched Bella with concern as she bore holes into the seat in front of her with her foggy red eyes. Mrs. Goff ran between the busses to do a headcount, and Bella squeezed her eyes shut when Mrs. Goff yelled to be heard over the chatter. I barely managed to stop myself from hushing her. Then, when the bus started moving, Bella groaned and leaned forward.
“Head between your knees,” Rosalie and I suggested at the same time; we were the children of a doctor, after all. She complied while Rosalie tried to discreetly open a paper bag, just in case. I was impressed. Rosalie didn’t deal well with bodily fluids, and when I glanced at her face, she looked anxious and slightly horrified, probably regretting her choice of seating.
The bus turned and Bella started gagging again, her breathing short and shallow.
“Deep breaths,” I instructed, leaning across the aisle. “Slow, deep breaths.” She said nothing but I could see her struggling to slow her breathing. “Do you want a papaya mint?”
“I hate them,” she whispered, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and I couldn’t not smile. Charlotte was right; Bella sounded like a little girl. I held one out to her regardless, and after a second she held her hand out for her, though still not opening her eyes. I watched her chew it, her face contorting into a grotesque, her bites slow and her lips curled like she’d stuck a lemon in her mouth. I was curious what could be so bad about them, but not enough to try one; Bella might need them all.
Her face was red and clammy, and I wished desperately there were a front seat she could sit in with the window rolled down. The bus was stuffy from all the bodies packed in, and the heater was on full blast.
I glanced around for anything that might help, then noticed Tanya sitting a row back, her face hidden behind the latest issue of Vogue.
“Hey, Tanya?” I wasn’t surprised by her startled expression. Tanya and I didn’t talk for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that our conversations always ended with, “No, Tanya, leave my belt buckle alone.”
“Yeah?”
“Could I . . .” It was kind of dickish of me to just suddenly ask her—but it wasn’t for me. “Could I have a couple pages of your magazine?” I tried to subtly motion to Bella, but Tanya stood and peered over.
“Oh god, she’s going to puke, isn’t she?” On cue, Bella started to gag again, probably triggered by the comment, and Rosalie held the bag closer, her face contorted in disgust. Emmett wasn’t the only one reaching the end of his playing-parent rope. They probably both severely regretted volunteering as chaperones.
Before I could say anything further, the entire magazine was in my hand and Tanya simply mumbled, “You can thank me later.” I ignored what was probably meant as a proposition and, ripping a couple pages out, began fanning cold air towards Bella’s neck.
“Does that help at all?” I asked, and was rewarded by the slightest nod.
After a few minutes of this, she lifted her head the slightest bit but kept her eyes closed as she breathed, “You can stop. I’m okay, guys. Don’t fuss.”
“Bella—“
“I just need to concentrate,” she insisted, lowering her head again. I continue to fan.
“Edward . . .”
“I’m doing it for the rest of the bus,” I assured her. “You’ll just start a chain reaction. It’ll be a scene from the Exorcist, and then we’ll all be stuck on a plane together, and our parents will--.”
“Don’t talk to her, you’ll just make it worse,” Alice suddenly insisted, twisting in her seat to lean into the aisle and peer back at Bella.
Bella admitted, “It helps. The . . .” She held her breath for a second, then gave a small burp before continuing, “Sorry. The distraction helps.”
Alice was conquering her hangover, it seemed, because she shifted to lean more comfortably around her seat and ordered, “Then you keep fanning, Edward, and I’ll talk. It’s my turn to be good for something.” I wanted to argue that I had a lot more to make up for, but Bella’s shoulders relaxed a bit as Alice began to prattle, so maybe her voice was more soothing. I continued to fan through the burning in my forearms. Somehow we made it to the airport without any vomiting.
Bella actually accepted my arm in helping her down the stairs to the sidewalk, and the contact and trust sent a rush of frenzied energy through me. Granted, she was too sick to probably even remember what had happened yet, and when she did all interactions with me would cease. But in the meantime, it was a lot easier to help take care of her than I had expected.
“My bags—“ she began, but Alice interrupted, “The boys will get them. Come on.”
Bella insisted, “No . . . no, I’m feeling better.” Her gulp of air gave away her lie. When alcohol wasn’t involved, she was terrible at it. “I’m feeling okay. I can get my stuff.” Alice at least convinced her to wait on the sidewalk and let us unload. I tried to get away with only handing her the blue backpack, but she started to argue, and the more she talked the sicker she clearly felt. So I gave in and handed over her duffel.
Three steps into the terminal I took it away and this time she didn’t argue, just silently stood in line and handed her passport to the ticket lady as I tossed the bag onto the scale. Rosalie and Alice flanked her through security, and Jasper bought both girls bottles of water which Bella thanked him for but hardly looked at.
“You need to drink that,” I encouraged when she’d only sipped. Her eyes were still distantly staring at the ground; I had yet to see her focus on anyone or anything.
Her blank face deepened into a frown, her brow tightening over her closed eyes, “It’s too sweet.”
“That’s because you’ve been throwing up, but it’s important.”
“Stop talking,” she sighed, and I tried not to take it personally. I couldn’t judge meanings right now; it wasn’t fair. And at least she took another swig before twisting in the chair to sit curled up sideways, her head resting against the backrest.
Alice gently rubbed her back and sighed, “I’m so sorry, Bella. I—“
“Please, not right now,” Bella interrupted, and I felt a bit better. It wasn’t just me.
Alice seemed insistent on taking over the care of Bella now that she was feeling better herself, and as we boarded, made sure that Bella got the window seat, with herself in the middle and Jasper on the end. Rosalie didn’t seem to mind being bumped, and instead she and Emmett took the two seats across the aisle. This left me to take the aisle seat in front of Emmett, and Mrs. Goff wound up taking the empty window seat beside me.
Great.
Fortunately, she wound up burying her nose in some trashy Spanish romance novel: Una Noche Salvaje. But not before catching a glimpse of Bella over the seats and asking,
“Dear me, is Miss Swan all right?”
“Remember she got a concussion at the slopes yesterday? She’s just still not feeling very good.”
“Oh. Poor thing. She’s lucky she has such good friends taking care of her,” she smiled brightly at me before diving into her book. I wanted to scoff and roll my eyes, Yeah, right. Some great friends we are. We’re the ones that let her get drunk and smoke on top of a concussion. And then I fingered her to orgasm because I wanted to hear her scream my name until it echoed in the mountains. I sucked the skin off her neck, if you don’t believe me. This was before you found me beating the shit out of one of your chaperones.
Instead of sharing, I spent the flight standing every ten minutes under the guise of stretching, really to check on Bella. She spent take off with her head between her knees, then was in the bathroom for a long time before the fasten seatbelts light was even turned off. I passed the mints to Alice in her absence, and felt some small thrill of pleasure when Alice couldn’t convince her to eat one. Fortunately, some divine miracle let Bella fall asleep shortly after, and she spent the rest of the flight passed out in a deeper sleep than she had managed in the lodge, not stirring until we were at the gate back in Forks, Alice gently shaking her awake.
Now that we were back to the grey, cold, rainy Forks all of us knew and loathed, the mood instantly dropped several levels. The exhaustion everyone had been pushing off suddenly struck, and it was a weary group of travelers that trudged to baggage claim to meet with parents.
Bella was back to being zombie Bella, and I watched as Rosalie and Alice led her over to Chief Swan, who realized something was wrong as soon as she stepped into view. He practically sprinted across the lounge and I’m not sure how much he heard of what Rosalie was explaining –I don’t even know what she was telling him. Bella was clearly trying to convince him she was okay, but Chief Swan was already making enough of a scene that Mrs. Goff and Coach Clapp were drawn over to answer his furious questions. I saw Mom and Dad waiting for us by the window, watching the scene with concern. Holding a finger up to them for a moment, I yanked my back off the carousel, then waited for Bella’s and jogged it over.
“Dad, please, can we just—“
“All right, but this is not over,” he conceded, giving both teachers a scathing glare.
“My bag—“ but again she was interrupted when I held it toward Chief Swan. Alice was clutching her arm, and Bella looked like she was about to hit the floor.
“Thanks, son,” Chief Swan nodded, tossing the duffel over his shoulder, then doing a double take. I’d forgotten I looked like I’d ridden my face down the mountain. I glanced warily at Bella, “Are you going to be able to make it to the car?”
“I’ve got her, Edward,” Alice assured me with an actual smile. Apparently she recognized and appreciated my efforts, because Alice hadn’t smiled at me since . . . since that coffee study session so long ago. But then, she probably didn’t know all that had transpired between me and Bella yet. I should enjoy the moment of acceptance while it lasted.
I nodded and again gave Bella a meaningful look, “Okay, well, if you need anything . . . anything at all, just call, I mean . . .”
At first her face was blank and unreadable; I hadn’t expected any more. Zombie Bella could barely manage to stand upright. But for the quickest second her eyes managed to focus on my face and she looked concerned. It was possibly the first time she’d actually seen my face since the day before. Had she even realized there had been a fight?
But as quickly as the look came it passed and she nodded numbly, “Right. Thanks.”
“Come on, Bells.” I watched the three of them stumble out of the terminal before jogging over to Mom, Dad, and Rosalie, who was already explaining, “Bella took a bad fall while snowboarding, and then fell again last night and hit her head. Bad concussion . . .”
Mom’s horrified gaze darted to my bruised face, but it was Dad who pressed, “Did you roll down the mountain with her, son?”
“Ah . . . no, not exactly,” I fumbled. Nothing like telling your parents you’ve got, “Four day in school suspension.” I didn’t mumble it, because I knew the grounding was coming anyways, and it still wouldn’t be all that I deserved. Perhaps if I told them everything they could arrange to have me publicly flogged. That might help.
“What?” Mom squeaked. Dad’s face hardened.
To my surprise, Rosalie flipped her hair over her shoulder and intervened, “Before you two come down too hard, know that it was James and that this is probably the first time in my life I am proud to be Edward’s sister.”
How much did she know? James was her friend; why would she be glad I had punched him? The reasons I’d lunged at him were half internal anyways. My motivations had been all the pain he had inflicted on Bella, all the pain I had inflicted on Bella, and his cocky-ass laugh as he gloated at my predicament, knowing exactly what had just happened. I had become him and he was ecstatic and beating in his face was a pretty good reaction, I thought. But there was no way Rosalie could know any of that unless James had said something, and I doubted he had.
“What . . . what did he do?” Mom ventured. She had never liked James anyways, but she looked like she was trying to remain the stern disciplinarian.
“High school drama, Mom, you don’t want to now,” Rosalie answered flippantly. “But it was justified. And there was a girl involved.”
Well Mom and Dad aren’t idiots, and they immediately put two and two together, and Dad ventured, “Did James have anything to do with Bella’s fall?”
“Both of them,” Rosalie tattled, her grin more of a smirk. I don’t know why she was finding so much pleasure in condemning her friend. But then I realized I was squirming, and remembered her explanation.
“Well, we’ll talk about this more when we get home,” Dad suggested, slipping his arm around Rosalie’s shoulders.
Mom tried to give me a stern look, but a smile snuck in, and then she slipped her hand into my arm and giggled softly, “Oh, a girl . . . well that changes everything.”
Damn you, Rosalie, for unleashing Mom.
Nine Main Eleven