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It has been six weeks since Bella sent out her applications and it is now the end of March. She has been on the soccer team since that time, winning the one game they've had against the team from the Quileute reservation, and has introduced Charlie to her flute (he's nonplussed but proud), and has been keeping straight A's in everything.
She has received four rejections (Harvard, Yale, MIT, and Princeton). The other schools are still quiet on the subject of applicant Bella Swan. Except Stanford.
Stanford thinks she is interesting, and would like to interview her in person, when would be convenient for her?
Hmm.
[Hey Alice. If anybody asks you, would you mind telling them you bought me a motorcycle?]
She can drive herself to the airport.
self_composed
edgeofyourseat
"I so don't care," he says. "Oh, uh, people are really gonna think we're fucking if you show up to school on that thing. You cool with that?"
self_composed
"Meh," says Bella. "Don't care enough to not use it. I will carry on denying it and say you're just buying me things with your court-awarded money because I helped you with the trial stuff."
edgeofyourseat
"Okay, cool."
A few things click in his head. Presents; beautiful things; designing for function and form.
"Hey, can I make you hot clothes?" he asks, already running through possibilities in his head. Dresses, various lengths; suits; assorted other items.
A few things click in his head. Presents; beautiful things; designing for function and form.
"Hey, can I make you hot clothes?" he asks, already running through possibilities in his head. Dresses, various lengths; suits; assorted other items.
self_composed
"Not a fan of dresses or suits on me in general, although if I have to show up to something super-formal I'd wear a dress. Maybe now that I don't trip on imaginary things all the time I'll start showing up to dances? I'd wear dresses to those, and I'll let you make 'em if you want if you let me vet the design."
self_composed
Bella grins. "Spiffy. I wonder if dancing is one pentagon, or one per type?" She tries it. "Huh. Works with one, but I probably couldn't win a waltz contest, I think this is just general I-can-dance-now."
self_composed
Bella can see it disappear. She shrugs and puts some waltz music on, and leads, even though he's taller and she's a girl.
edgeofyourseat
That is because Bella is perfect.
Completely for the fuck of it, Alice wishes himself a magnificently twirly pleated skirt.
Completely for the fuck of it, Alice wishes himself a magnificently twirly pleated skirt.
self_composed
Bella doesn't get tired at this level of physical activity for hours. She can dance as long as she wants. But the music ends eventually and she spins Alice into a closing dip.
"That was fun," she says.
"That was fun," she says.
edgeofyourseat
"I love it too. And I love you being magical. And I love you," Alice recites happily.
self_composed
"Charlie'll be home in under an hour," she says, glancing at the clock. "Time to start dinner. You staying?"
self_composed
"I'm kinda impressed with Charlie for not having remarked on your new clothes," Bella says, heading down the stairs and starting on some rice to serve with fried fish.
edgeofyourseat
"Me too," he says, laughing.
Once again Charlie defies Alice's experience of dads! That is a good thing. He should keep doing that.
Once again Charlie defies Alice's experience of dads! That is a good thing. He should keep doing that.
self_composed
Bella cooks. She hands Alice things to stir, and stale bread to turn into crumbs. Charlie's home on time, remarks neither on Alice's presence nor on his attire, and is loudly appreciative of the food.
edgeofyourseat
Alice is also loudly appreciative of the food, although half of his remarks thereon are technically silent.
self_composed
"So Dad," says Bella. "Alice got me a ridiculous present, and I can't return it because he went and got it custom and anyway I really like it. So... um..."
"Mm?" Charlie asks. "Why would you return it if you like it?"
"Well, I'm not licensed to drive it," says Bella.
Charlie's silent for a beat. "Laney, did you get my daughter a motorcycle?"
"Mm?" Charlie asks. "Why would you return it if you like it?"
"Well, I'm not licensed to drive it," says Bella.
Charlie's silent for a beat. "Laney, did you get my daughter a motorcycle?"