Clearcall - Embry Call

Settling

Charlie vanished shortly after setting Bella's case beside her bed. Madelaine could hear her father downstairs opening and closing cupboards aimlessly, as if hoping food would magically appear. It seemed to be a shared hobby of the Swan's—well, maybe not Bella's.

Madelaine lingered by the doorway, toeing the threshold. Part of her wanted desperately to talk to her sister (How was Phoenix? Do you still want to be a ballerina when you grow up?  Are you looking forward to school? Is your favourite colour still purple?), but as she watched Bella surveying the room with a daunted look, she decided to let the silence sit. For now, at least.

Maybe she's tired from the flight, Madelaine thought, stepping forward to move clothing from bag to dresser. And the drive with Dad can't have been great.

They worked in silence. Madelaine let Bella take the lead with arranging her things, and the other girl muttered to herself occasionally.

Bella's room was near identical to what it had been three years ago. The bed sheets were new (very silky, very purple) but the furniture remained in place. It was much less cluttered than Madelaine's room next door, and she was definitely jealous of Bella's window alcove. Her own windows were tall and slim, and stared out at their neighbours house, but not the woods across from their home.

But she was the youngest child, and so the first choice had gone to her sister. Although, Madelaine realised dumbly, Charlie probably would have let her move into this room after Bella's last Christmas in Forks.

Oh well, she thought, dropping Bella's pyjamas into the almost full top drawer. I had my chance.

The furniture in Bella's room was standard: twin bed, oak dresser with mirror, flat pack desk, chair, short bookshelf. The walls had a few posters and the odd framed picture. It was the mirror that caught Madelaine's eye.

The silver trimmed mirror perched atop the dresser had a strip of photos taped to the left side, as well as three glittery stickers (a brown dog, a red love heart, a twinkling snowflake). The photos were taken in Port Angeles, when Charlie had taken his girls (aged ten and eight) to the fair. Charlie didn't want to be in the photos, so only his arms could be seen in the corner.

The top photo was of Bella and Madelaine smiling prettily, practising their camera ready smiles. The next one had Madelaine scrunching up her face, while Bella grinned and poked at her own cheeks. The last photo showed Madelaine collapsed over her sister's lap with laughter, while Bella squinted at the camera, pouting for pretend.

A post-it note cut off the bottom of the photos and read Mad Bells in Charlie's handwriting. There was a trail x's and o's beneath them, written in Madelaine's shaky hand, and a smiley-face from Bella.

Madelaine had an identical strip of photos in her room tacked to a prick-board with her own stickers (a spotted puppy, a tall tree, a falling star). She cherished the memory: the girls looked young and happy. And with Charlie's plaid arms framing the photos, they could even look like a family. A proper family.

It didn't take long for Bella's things to find their new home. Besides her clothes, she had a little bag of bathroom necessities, a few CD's, one book, and Arizona (which Madelaine had set on the window sill, leaving the little plant in the prime location to glimpse the rare sun). Bella packed light.

Madelaine didn't know if that was normal or if Bella knew she wouldn't be staying for long.

Her last letter to Madelaine had been short, Bella had a lot of schoolwork due at the time, but she'd said quiet simply, Mom needs to be with Phil, I think it's best I stay with you and Dad for a while.