I moved around the house for about an hour. I cleaned everything, erasing all traces of a guest in our house that Saturday. I rearranged my room, and then put it back the way it was fifteen minutes later. I unplugged the house phone. I put oil on all the door hinges, so no more squeaking. There was nothing I could do for the floorboards; the creaking parts were under the carpet.
I just didn't want to sit still long enough for Beatrice to come out again… nor did I want to sit still long enough to start thinking things….
If I didn't like Ethan before, I did now. Honestly, I couldn't have been more honest about anything to anyone than whenever I talked to him. What was it about him that I could say such things so easily? And why did it have to be him, who—according to Beatrice—could never be mine? After all this is over, I don't get the guy in the end?
What a bunch of balls.
*
By the time Mom came home, the lasagna was ready to eat (no, I can't cook; it was one of those already-made ones you just stick in the oven (I am not Bella Swan!)). She seemed really pleased.
"While a movie-deal isn't on the table," she said during dinner, "the book is already going forward for publishing. It'll be out this summer, so we can both go on tour. Won't that be fun?"
"That'll be great." We didn't go on tour last year… for obvious reasons. It would actually be fun, though, because Mom always played her own assistant. She always wanted to write books, but she never wanted to be famous.
"So," she said, "how was your day?"
I shrugged. "It was alright. Ethan and I already finished our project."
She nodded. "And how was Pamela?"
"She was really nice."
"I called earlier this afternoon. No one answered."
"Oh. When I got home, I unplugged the phone and took a nap for a little bit. I guess I forgot to plug it back in."
Mom frowned. "And your cell phone?"
I blinked. "It's in my backpack." I got up and went to the living room. I'd dumped it on the couch. I rooted through it and found my phone, three missed calls on it; two of them were Charlie's number.
I also found the cookies and gave them to Mom.
"Ooh, these are good," she said, eating one. "Last question: why's the painting in the living room down?"
At least I could be honest about this one. "The string broke and it fell."
Mom nodded, frowning in its direction. "I really like that one," she sighed. "So, no class on Monday… any plans?"
"Sleep."
*
Despite the plan, I knew I wasn't sleeping that night.
I'd thought Beatrice was going to pound it into my head that my chances with Ethan were pretty slim to nonexistent. While it sucked, I knew I could come to terms with it. Besides, I sort of understood that me being with Ethan was the last thing Beatrice would want. She needed my attention.
I still thought selfish thoughts, though, as I lied in my cold bed that night. Yeah, I'd be Beatrice's little bitch for a while longer. I didn't have a choice.
Anyway, once we found the murderer, I bet Beatrice wanted that family to pay. The Wyatts cropped up every time I thought that, but, honestly—I couldn't see it. Principal Wyatt was really nice, and I had never run into or heard of Thomas Wyatt's parents. I didn't know where any of them even lived. Charlie and Ethan never mentioned the adult Wyatts. Cynthia had insinuated it was the kids who caused all the trouble.
Did the adults decide to stay out of the rivalry, but let their kids keep it going? No one seemed like they wanted to stop it.
Except Mr. C… but it seemed like he was like that for a really long time.
I rolled over in bed, frowning. I didn't want to face him during choir—Mr. C or even Ethan. I didn't even know if I wanted to see Charlie. I didn't want to tell her what almost happened. It was weird and embarrassing. I felt like a little kid about it.
Bella Swan didn't have this problem. Bella Swan said so herself that she was born 45 (or her mother told her, rather, but whatever). Everyone in Twilight acted like adults, with adult problems (the relationship stuff more than the vampire stuff) and adult solutions (although, I don't think 'love' really counts as a solution). Spare me the 'love conquers all' happy ending. That belonged in the Romance section with the books covered in shirtless men written for married women.
While this story felt like it had a few miles to go, I could already see I didn't get the happy ending.
*
I slept-in Sunday.
I'd thought Beatrice was going to pound it into my head that my chances with Ethan were pretty slim to nonexistent.
Instead, Beatrice cast me as New Girl a few times in my dreams.
It was the same. I started out running in school, running out of school (which looked like the auditorium) and then suddenly in the woods. I was running and tired and still in unfamiliar clothes, which looked fluid, like there was no final design, like Beatrice herself couldn't decide what I was wearing.
The first time, I ended up at Ethan's house. I reasoned with myself that it was only because I'd gone there Saturday, and… given the following events, it was still on my mind.
The second and third time, I ended up at my own house—both versions of it.
The fourth time, I ended up at some random house. It looked familiar… one of the homes I must've driven by everyday to and from school.
The fifth and last time, I didn't end up anywhere. I still ran through the woods, completely lost and scared. Whoever was chasing me didn't go away like the other times. When I'd made it to a house or the school, the danger of whoever chased me went away. With this last one, the fear was worse. It felt like it would never end—
But then my phone buzzed on my nightstand, and I woke up.
It was eleven in the morning. Light of day wafted in through my window. My side of the house didn't get the sun, but the light was just too bright for a Sunday midmorning.
I stopped the incessant buzzing of my phone.
"H—"
"Why didn't you call me back?" the voice demanded. "I called your house but it wasn't working. I called your cell phone twice, but I didn't leave a message because I wanted to talk to you."
"Who is this?" I sat up and stretched, my back popping surprisingly loud.
She groaned. "It's Chuck. Are you just getting up?"
I frowned. "Charlie?"
"Duh! Why didn't you call me back?"
"I was… busy."
"No shit you were busy. I didn't find out about the fight until my dad came home from work saying that he stopped at Marty's and he told him about it. He said the new girl was involved—which is still you. So, I want to know what happened. My dad didn't want to tell me anything, said it would encourage me to get involved or whatever. They don't think so highly of you anymore, by the way."
I sighed. This was way too early to be dealing with any of that. "Why don't you come over and I'll tell you everything," I said, reluctantly getting out of bed.
"I thought we discussed this. While my parents are cool, Celia is… a little crazy," she whispered. "If she finds out I was at your house—"
"Then you can blame it on me. You already said your parents don't think too highly of me. I hang out with the boy everyone hates and get in fights now…." I sat back down on my bed. I couldn't blame Charlie for my annoyance. I just wasn't in the mood.
"Are you okay? You're not sounding like yourself."
I sighed, stretching again. "A lot has happened in the past twenty-four hours. In a nutshell, I told Ethan everything, went to the library and got into a fight, I'm hiding everything from my mom, and Beatrice kept me up all night with crazy dreams." I thought I would finish there, but then I sighed and figured, what the hell. "And that's just half of what's bothering me. Don't ask me about the second half just yet."
"Wow… okay, I'm sorry. You know what—why don't you just take today off? There's no class tomorrow, so we'll hang out… at your house—if I can manage, and then you can tell me anything you want. I forget about the… Beatrice stuff," Charlie whispered.
"Where are you right now?"
"I'm in my room doing homework, but the house is still asleep—and by that, I mean everyone. It's so quiet I feel like talking in my normal volume is going to be loud enough for everyone to hear what I'm saying."
That made me chuckle. "Taking Sunday off would be a good idea. I hope Beatrice will get that and leave me alone today."
"Do you… actually talk to her?" She paused. "I didn't mean to sound mean or anything, like I think you're crazy—which I don't by the way, but—"
"Relax. I don't talk to her, but I know she can hear me… wherever she is."
"Holy crap…. How do you sleep at night?"
I chuckled darkly. "I don't."
********
Yeah, this chapter mostly focused on Bella's internal troubles (and the next is almost the same). I figure I should mention (in case you're getting bored (which is understandable)) that we are reaching the halfway point. This story is... 2/3 done.