CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ᴛʜʀᴏᴡɴ ᴏғғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ

The rare stretch of good weather lingered into the week, the sun rising sharp and early over Forks. The wind still carried a bitter bite, but that didn't stop people from dragging out sunglasses, chasing the fragile warmth as if it might vanish any second. 

Stepping into the daylight felt wrong. Almost criminal. It didn't sparkle on my skin, not quite, but it tingled -  like the sunlight wanted to bite, to flare against me in a thousand splinters as a vampire was supposed to. I walked quickly, collar up, as though I could hide from it.

Days in the sun always made me feel anxious. What if, without warning, my body betrayed me? What if the sun revealed me for what I was? It had never happened, and logic told me it never would. Still, the dread clung. At least the Cullens weren't there to make it worse. Their seats sat empty, their absence explained away by Jessica's cheerful authority: "camping trip." Apparently, Dr. Cullen pulled them out of school whenever the forecast promised something brighter than cloud and drizzle.

The week after the trip to La Push brought the spring dance closer by the day, and though it was girl's choice, the boys didn't delay their asking or incessant flirting. But the girls were excited enough for the both of us, me and Bella, and we soon chatting all through lunch about dresses and hair and makeup, three things of which my opinion was probably far too old fashioned to be able to comment upon.

It took only a few evenings into the week before the dance for Bella to phone me.

"Mike finally asked Jess to the dance. She's ecstatic, but that means she needs to get the perfect dress," Bella said, her voice already dripping with a plead. "She wants us all to go to Port Angeles tomorrow after school, to go dress shopping. Jess wants our opinions, for some reason."

I laughed, imagining the annoyed shake of her head.

"Yeah, sure. I'll come."

Bella sounded surprised by my answer. "You will? I thought it would take more convincing."

"You've got to have someone with you to save from being bored to death," I said, earning a laugh. "Besides, I rather like dresses and things. And I'm nosey enough to want to see what they pick."

"Well, great. I won't complain anymore. See you in the morning, same time?" She asked.

"Same time," I said back.

The next day dragged. Bella spent most of it glancing over her shoulder, restless as if waiting for something, or someone. By the final bell, we piled into cars for the trip to Port Angeles. Jessica tailed Bella's truck in her white Mercury, dropping bags at her house before swinging by to collect Angela. Bella and I squeezed ourselves into the backseat, shoulder to shoulder, as Jess hit the gas.

She drove fast - recklessly fast. Faster than Bella's old truck or my battered car could dream of, and all with the raw abandon of a human behind the wheel. The speed tugged at me, sharp and familiar. For a moment I was back in Alice's car, weaving through the roads of Forks, ancient trees flying past like sentinels. The memory pricked too close, so I looked away, letting the blur of green turn into nothing but noise outside the window.

Leaning between the seats, I fiddled with the radio until static gave way to music. The speakers crackled, half-drowned, but it filled the silence until Jessica squealed.

"Oh my God, Elide, I didn't tell you about dinner with Mike!" Her hands flew off the wheel for half a second in excitement.

I chuckled. Her joy was contagious, even if it sometimes hid a sharper edge. "Let me guess, it went well?"

"Better than well." Her voice climbed higher. "By Saturday night, we might've had our first kiss. I'm so excited for the spring dance, it's going to be perfect." She turned briefly to us, wide-eyed. Bella's gaze darted nervously back to the road. "I wish you could come, Elide. We'll miss you. But at least you're going, Angela. And with Eric!"

Angela smiled politely, though her face faltered at the mention of Eric. Her quiet nature didn't mask her reluctance well.

"Oh, come on, Ange!" Jess teased. "If Eric isn't your type, then who is? Spill."

Angela blushed, words stalling in her mouth.

"You know, Jess," I interrupted smoothly, "I think a blue dress would look stunning on you."

Bella, quick to follow my lead, nodded. "Definitely. It'll bring out your eyes."

That was all it took. Jessica glowed, her earlier prodding forgotten, and for the rest of the drive she filled the car with chatter about dresses or belted along with the radio.

By four we reached Port Angeles. Within the hour Jessica had chosen a knee-length blue dress and Angela a soft pink one, both clutched triumphantly over their arms as they drifted toward the jewelry counters. I let them chatter about earrings while I wandered. Their tastes ran modern, sparkly, everything mine didn't.

At the back of the shop, in the section Jess had already dismissed as "old lady clothes," a mannequin caught my eye. The dress it wore was a deep, arresting red, cut in a style I knew by heart - off the shoulder, waist cinched, the skirt flowing just below the knee. It wasn't authentic, not like the originals, but it was close enough to make me pause.

"Would you like to try it on?" The shop lady had appeared beside me, eyes kind but sharp.

I glanced at my friends. They were too absorbed in shoes to notice. I nodded.

The fabric slid cool against my skin as I zipped myself in. It fit perfectly, the red stark against my pale body, my dark hair spilling like ink over my shoulders. For a heartbeat I felt beautiful. Real.

Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The shadows beneath my eyes, the translucent skin, the hollowness behind the color - too sharp, too fragile. The dress didn't disguise what I was. It revealed it.

I tore it off and left it on the hanger, returning to the others just as Angela was turning in front of the mirror, a pair of pink heels on her feet.

"I like those," Bella said, her voice soft with approval.

"They're pretty," I agreed, smiling.

Angela hesitated. "I'll get them, though they'll never match anything but the one dress."

"Oh, go on. They're on sale," Bella urged. Then, quieter, leaning close to me, she added, "You looked beautiful. In that dress."

My head turned sharply. "You saw?"

"You won't buy it?"

I shook my head.

"It looked like it was made for you," she pressed. "You were beautiful."

"I felt beautiful." My voice thinned. "But I'm not getting it."

Later, we decided to walk to the bay before dinner. But as we headed for the door, Bella hesitated.

"There's a bookshop I've been meaning to check out. Why don't you go on ahead? I'll meet you at the restaurant in an hour."

Jessica immediately offered to wait, but Bella waved her off. "It's fine. I get carried away in bookshops. You'd be bored."

Her smile was tight, her excuse practiced.

We let her go. 

Bella peeled away toward the bookshop, and I followed Jessica and Angela back to the car. By the time the bags were stashed in the trunk, Jessica was already second-guessing her dress.

"I just don't know," she muttered, chewing her lip. "What if Mike doesn't like it?"

Her endless fretting usually grated, but something in her tone tugged at me. The insecurity under the bravado. Angela and I each hooked an arm through hers and steered her toward the bay.

"If Mike doesn't think you're gorgeous in that dress," I said, "then he's blind."

"Exactly," Angela added softly. "You'll look amazing."

Jessica's chin tipped up again, reassured, though I saw the doubt still flicker in her eyes.

The bay was a disappointment, gray water lapping against dull stone, the wind snapping colder by the minute. By the time we circled back, the air was heavy with shadows, the sun already drowned behind thick cloud.

La Bella Italia glowed warm across the street. We waited outside, stamping our feet against the chill, fifteen minutes bleeding past. Jess grew impatient. My worry grew sharper.

"Why don't you two go inside?" I finally said. "I'll look for Bella."

They hesitated.

"I'm not hungry," I pressed. "Go on."

Jess dragged Angela in, muttering about starving, and I turned the opposite way, toward the bookshop.

The streets had changed with nightfall. What had been quaint storefronts and neat pavement now felt hollow, deserted. The moon slid between heavy clouds, silvering the rooftops, but the alleys yawned black. Every sound - a car door slamming in the distance, a scrape of shoes on concrete - made me snap my head around.

The bookshop was nearly empty. An old woman with long gray hair shuffled among the aisles, humming under her breath. No Bella. I checked the side streets, the corners, the shopping center with its half-lit signs. Still nothing.

A knot tightened in my chest. Bella was too trusting, too willing to wander alone. And I knew all too well what stalked the shadows.

By the time I doubled back toward the restaurant, nearly half an hour had vanished. My hands were clenched tight in my coat pockets.

And then, relief and confusion all at once, Bella appeared. She wasn't alone.

Edward Cullen walked beside her, pale and composed, his presence turning the air electric. Jess and Angela lingered nearby, clearly debating whether to wait. Bella and Edward moved as if they were the only two people on the street.

"Hey!" My voice came sharper than I meant, carrying too far in the quiet. All four of them turned. "I was looking for you."

The words sounded foolish. Too desperate.

Bella flushed, glancing sideways at Edward. "Sorry. I got lost. Ran into Edward."

Jess was suddenly at my side, hand clamping around my elbow. Her voice was brisk, almost scolding. "Since you weren't hungry and we already ate, Edward's taking Bella in for dinner. We're driving home."

let Jess tug me away, though my eyes stayed fixed on Bella. She was smiling, flushed in the glow of the restaurant lights, her laughter soft and unguarded. Edward Cullen stood at her side, close enough that she tilted toward him without even realizing.

He looked almost alive like that, mouth curved, eyes softened in the lamplight. Almost human. But I knew better. His stillness was the same as mine, his careful mask the kind only centuries could perfect. A predator could look tender, until the moment it struck.

My hands had curled into fists before I noticed, nails pressing against my palms. An old, wordless habit. The kind that came when danger brushed too close and my body remembered long before my mind did.

As the two of them stepped inside La Bella Italia, disappearing into the warm hum of the restaurant, one thought clung to me like the cold air around my skin: Bella had no idea what she was walking into.

☾