vies. Even Rosalie was there, quietly in the background. Alice did insist on the 
pedicure, and I wondered if she was working from a list - maybe something she'd compiled 
from watching bad sitcoms. 

"How late do you want to stay up?" she asked when my toenails were glistening a bloody 
red. Her enthusiasm remained untouched by my mood. 

"I don't want to stay up. We have school in the morning." 

She pouted. 

"Where am I supposed to sleep, anyway?" I measured the couch with my eyes. It was a little 
short. "Can't you just keep me under surveillance at my house?" 

"What kind of a slumber party would that be?" Alice shook her head in exasperation. "You're 
sleeping in Edward's room." 

I sighed. His black leather sofa was longer than this one. Actually, the gold carpet in his room 
was probably thick enough that the floor wouldn't be half bad either. 

"Can I go back to my place to get my things, at least?" 

She grinned. "Already taken care of." 

"Am I allowed to use your phone?" 

"Charlie knows where you are." 

"I wasn't going to call Charlie." I frowned. "Apparently, I have some plans to cancel." 

"Oh." She deliberated. "I'm not sure about that." 

"Alice!" I whined loudly. "C'mon!" 

"Okay, okay," she said, flitting from the room. She was back in half a second, cell phone in 

 

hand. "He didn't specifically prohibit this . . . ," she murmured to herself as she handed it to 
me. 

I dialed Jacob's number, hoping he wasn't out running with his friends tonight. Luck was 
with me - Jacob was the one to answer. 

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Jake, it's me." Alice watched me with expressionless eyes for a second, before she 
turned and went to sit between Rosalie and Esme on the sofa. 

"Hi, Bella," Jacob said, suddenly cautious. "What's up?" 

"Nothing good. I can't come over Saturday after all." 

It was silent for a minute. "Stupid bloodsucker," he finally muttered. "I thought he was 
leaving. Can't you have a life when he's gone? Or does he lock you in a coffin?" 

I laughed. 

"I don't think that's funny." 

"I'm only laughing because you're close," I told him. "But he's going to be here Saturday, so it 
doesn't matter." 

"Will he be feeding there in Forks, then?" Jacob asked cuttingly. 

"No." I didn't let myself get irritated with him. I wasn't that far from being as angry as he 
was. "He left early." 

"Oh. Well, hey, come over now, then," he said with sudden enthusiasm. "It's not that late. Or 
I'll come up to Charlie's." 

"I wish. I'm not at Charlie's," I said sourly. "I'm kind of being held prisoner." 

He was silent as that sunk in, and then he growled. "We'll come and get you," he promised in 
a flat voice, slipping automatically into a plural. 

A chill slid down my spine, but I answered in a light and teasing voice. "Tempting. I have 
been tortured - Alice painted my toenails." 

"I'm serious." 

"Don't be. They're just trying to keep me safe." 

He growled again. 

"I know it's silly, but their hearts are in the right place." 

 

"Their hearts !" he scoffed. 

"Sorry about Saturday," I apologized. "I've got to hit the sack" - the couch, I corrected 
mentally - "but I'll call you again soon." 

"Are you sure they'll let you?" he asked in a scathing tone. 

"Not completely." I sighed. "'Night, Jake." 

"See you around." 

Alice was abruptly at my side, her hand held out for the phone, but I was already dialing. She 
saw the number. 

"I don't think he'll have his phone on him," she said. 

"I'll leave a message." 

The phone rang four times, followed by a beep. There was no greeting. 

"You are in trouble," I said slowly, emphasizing each word. "Enormous trouble. Angry 
grizzly bears are going to look tame next to what is waiting for you at home." 

I snapped the phone shut and placed it in her waiting hand. "I'm done." 

She grinned. "This hostage stuff is fun." 

"I'm going to sleep now," I announced, heading for the stairs. Alice tagged along. 

"Alice," I sighed. "I'm not going to sneak out. You would know if I was planning to, and 
you'd catch me if I tried." 

"I'm just going to show you where your things are," she said innocently. 

Edward's room was at the farthest end of the third floor hallway, hard to mistake even when 
the huge house had been less familiar. But when I switched the light on, I paused in 
confusion. Had I picked the wrong door? 

Alice giggled. 

It was the same room, I realized quickly; the furniture had just been rearranged. The couch 
was pushed to the north wall and the stereo shoved up against the vast shelves of CDs - to 
make room for the colossal bed that now dominated the central space. 

The southern wall of glass reflected the scene back like a mirror, making it look twice as bad. 

It matched. The coverlet was a dull gold, just lighter than the walls; the frame was black, 
made of intricately patterned wrought iron. Sculpted metal roses wound in vines up the tall 

 

posts and formed a bowery lattice overhead. My pajamas were folded neatly on the foot of 
the bed, my bag of toiletries to one side. 

"What the hell is all this?" I spluttered. 

"You didn't really think he would make you sleep on the couch, did you?" 

I mumbled unintelligibly as I stalked forward to snatch my things off the bed. 

"I'll give you some privacy," Alice laughed. "See you in the morning." 

After my teeth were brushed and I was dressed, I grabbed a puffy feather pillow off the huge 
bed and dragged the gold cover to the couch. I knew I was being silly, but I didn't care. 
Porsches as bribes and king-sized beds in houses where nobody slept - it was beyond 
irritating. I flipped off the lights and curled up on the sofa, wondering if I was too annoyed to 
sleep. 

In the dark, the glass wall was no longer a black mirror, doubling the room. The light of the 
moon brightened the clouds outside the window. As my eyes adjusted, I could see the 
diffused glow highlighting the tops of the trees, and glinting off a small slice of the river. I 
watched the silver light, waiting for my eyes to get heavy. 

There was a light knock on the door. 

"What, Alice?" I hissed. I was on the defensive, imagining her amusement when she saw my 
makeshift bed. 

"It's me," Rosalie said softly, opening the door enough that I could see the silver glow touch 
her perfect face. "Can I come in?" 

 

7. UNHAPPY ENDING 

ROSALIE HESITATED IN THE DOORWAY, HER BREATHTAKING face unsure. 

"Of course," I replied, my voice an octave high with surprise. "Come on in." 

I sat up, sliding to the end of the sofa to make room. My stomach twisted nervously as the 
one Cullen who did not like me moved silently to sit down in the open space. I tried to come 
up with a reason why she would want to see me, but my mind was a blank on that point. 

"Do you mind talking to me for a few minutes?" she asked. "I didn't wake you or anything, 
did I?" Her eyes shifted to the stripped bed and back to my couch. 

"No, I was awake. Sure, we can talk." I wondered if she could hear the alarm in my voice as 
clearly as I could. 

She laughed lightly, and it sounded like a chorus of bells. "He so rarely leaves you alone," she 
said. "I figured I'd better make the best of this opportunity." 

What did she want to say that couldn't be said in front of Edward? My hands twisted and 
untwisted around the edge of the comforter. 

"Please don't think I'm horribly interfering," Rosalie said, her voice gentle and almost 
pleading. She folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them as she spoke. "I'm sure 
I've hurt your feelings enough in the past, and I don't want to do that again." 

"Don't worry about it, Rosalie. My feelings are great. What is it?" 

She laughed again, sounding oddly embarrassed. "I'm going to try to tell you why I think you 
should stay human - why I would stay human if I were you." 

"Oh." 

She smiled at the shocked tone of my voice, and then she sighed. 

"Did Edward ever tell you what led to this?" she asked, gesturing to her glorious immortal 
body. 

I nodded slowly, suddenly somber. "He said it was close to what happened to me that time in 
Port Angeles, only no one was there to save you ." I shuddered at the memory. 

"Is that really all he told you?" she asked. 

"Yes," I said, my voice blank with confusion. "Was there more?" 

She looked up at me and smiled; it was a harsh, bitter - but still stunning - expression. 

"Yes," she said. "There was more." 

 

I waited while she stared out the window. She seemed to be trying to calm herself. 

"Would you like to hear my story, Bella? It doesn't have a happy ending - but which of ours 
does? If we had happy endings, we'd all be under gravestones now." 

I nodded, though I was frightened by the edge in her voice. 

"I lived in a different world than you do, Bella. My human world was a much simpler place. 
It was nineteen thirty-three. I was eighteen, and I was beautiful. My life was perfect." 

She stared out the window at the silver clouds, her expression far away. 

"My parents were thoroughly middle class. My father had a stable job in a bank, something I 
realize now that he was smug about - he saw his prosperity as a reward for talent and hard 
work, rather than acknowledging the luck involved. I took it all for granted then; in my 
home, it was as if the Great Depression was only a troublesome rumor. Of course I saw the 
poor people, the ones who weren't as lucky. My father left me with the impression that they'd 
brought their troubles on themselves. 

"It was my mother's job to keep our house - and myself and my two younger brothers - in 
spotless order. It was clear that I was both her first priority and her favorite. I didn't fully 
understand at the time, but I was always vaguely aware that my parents weren't satisfied 