Chapter Text
Monday September 5th, 2011
Edward POV
“The little tiny baby hell child is all grown up!” Emmett’s wails reverberated through the living room. “Where’s the time gone? You were so little. I remember it like it was yesterday. In your diapers, so small, so tiny. Now look at you! The Sproglet is off to high school.”
Emmett dabbed his tearless eyes with a tissue.
“Sproglet?” Renesmee said as her eyebrows knitted together.
“I did some research. I needed a British name for you. So, The Sproglet it is.” Emmett clapped his hands together in triumph, the pretence of despair immediately dropped.
“Emmett…” I warned, voice saturated with disapproval.
Don’t like that one, Eddie?
I glared at my brother.
“Would you prefer to call her a wee little bairn?”
“Pfft,” Renesmee scoffed. “Nah. Sproglet is way better. It’s like a little frog.”
Emmett nodded in fervent agreement. “And fitting because little froglets start off as evil little spawn.”
My eyes narrowed. I had hoped, rather foolishly, that Spawn would not make a return. Emmett’s relentless nicknames for my daughter were said in love. They were also said to get a rise out of me. I know this, and yet it always worked. Sproglet wasn’t the most offending of the nicknames, I guessed. It had nothing on Wombburster, which Emmett had declared as Renesmee’s new name after they had watched Alien together. If Bella had not found that one humorous, Emmett may have lost a limb for a day or two. He still might. I was still seriously considering grievous bodily harm as a suitable punishment.
“And, once you’ve finished high school, you can graduate from Sproglet to Sprog,” Emmett continued.
High school. A purgatory that my siblings and I willingly endured every decade or so for a sense of stability over the nomadic life that was the norm for our kind. Days after days of monotony, the curriculum for a seventeen year old hardly insightful enough to hold my interest, too lacklustre to teach me anything I didn’t already know through multiple degrees.
The social side of high school offered very little interest, either. With every cycle, the faces and names of our peers changed, but I saw the same personalities and plots over and over again. Teenage angst is always the same at its core, whether the youth were listening to Sinatra, Presley, The Beatles, Michael Jackson, Nirvana, Eminem, Linkin Park, and now apparently One Direction. Teenage love was always the same awkward fumbling, misunderstandings, and breakups. After my fourth cycle of high school in the 60s, the school day became utterly banal.
My so-called gift heightened the boredom. Knowing exactly how the plot would turn out every time is one thing. Knowing exactly the thoughts of the characters along the way ensured any modicum of charm was lost. Occasionally, there was a story of note in the high school populace. There were happy deviations from the norm. Somebody would get a scholarship or would be reunited with a long-lost family member. More often than not, deviations were tragedies. Somebody would go missing, become ill, or die. They were the worst school cycles to sit through. Even though they deviated from the norm, the ending was still always the same sad, predictable end. I hated sitting through the mundanity and misery of it all. I hated how every celebration was uninspiring, and every tragedy became rote. There was nothing of interest that held me.
A purgatory, indeed.
During our last school cycle, my attitude abruptly changed when my existence was upended. Six years ago, I began to feel human for the first time in over eighty years when I unexpectedly became the star of my own teenage love story. Six years ago, I began to believe I may not be damned. Where I believed that I may actually, in fact, have a soul. Six years ago, I finally found her. Isabella Cullen née Swan. The source of both the most painful and the most wonderful years of my existence.
Teenage love. Teenage heartbreak. Teenage marriage. Teenage pregnancy. Stories that I had seen played out over the decades. Stories that I had previously judged others for. Stories that in no way prepared me to live those experiences myself. Even with the advantage of knowing the thoughts, experiences, and stories of previous teenagers before me, I was not prepared. Granted, mine and Bella’s version of the story had the added complication that the universe was determined to rip my reason of existence away from me. But at its core, Bella and I? Teenagers who fell in love. Six years later, we’re still teenagers in love. And we would be, forever. I could hardly judge my high school contemporaries anymore.
As I pondered my past high school careers, I found myself, for the first time in decades, excited to enrol in high school. This would be the first cycle since Forks. The first with Bella and Renesmee. The novelty of the newest Cullens joining the high school roster excited my siblings, too. So much so that they all decided to enrol this time, too, rather than finding alternative cover stories. Even Rosalie was excited. A first.
The only one not excited for the cycle was Bella. Misery was the word she used to describe the endless cycle of repeated high school exposure.
“You wanted the immortal life, love. You reap what you sow,” I had reminded her.
“No… I wanted to be with you forever. I’m questioning whether it was worth it seeing as calculus is just around the corner.”
“We survive so much, and a little bit of calculus is what makes you regret us?”
“Of course.”
“You wound me. Besides, you and Renesmee get to choose where we’re going. That ought to soften the miserable experience of being with me forever.”
That choice is how we ended up in Haworth, a picturesque village in the Brontë Country region of Yorkshire, Northern England. While Carlisle was born in London, and we have previously visited the cities of Bath, Edinburgh, Oxford, Carlisle, and York, we had never had a home in the United Kingdom. In fact, we have never settled outside of the United States and Canada. The change of continent was brought about by what Bella thought were shallow reasons, but I assured her they were excellent reasons. Renesmee wanted to visit the land of Harry Potter. Bella wanted to visit the land of Shakespeare, Brontë, and Austin. Normally, we choose our locations based on climate and hunting potential. This was more personal, and I hoped that the location would bring Bella joy, even if attending high school did not. That, and the fact that in the British system, the equivalent of junior and senior year were entirely electives. Bella was ecstatic when she learned that she didn’t have to face calculus, after all.
And so, my siblings, Renesmee and I, were standing in our matching school uniforms while Esme and Carlisle looked on, amused. We were waiting for Bella to join us. A smile fell upon my lips as I glanced upwards. I could hear through the ceiling and floorboards, grumbling to herself. Huffing in indignation. No doubt putting off going to high school—or sixth form college, as they call it here.
“Look into my future, please?" Renesmee implored. "Will it be a good day? Will I make friends? Actually, scratch that. I want to be surprised and experience it firsthand. But what if I make a bad decision and don’t have the best day ever? Okay. You have to look. You need to tell me if I’m doing something wrong, Alice. Please, please, please!” Renesmee grabbed Alice’s hand, sending thoughts through to her, And you need to tell me if there’s anybody super cute I should talk to.
I raised an eyebrow. “Renesmee, you know I can hear everything you’re sending to Alice, right?”
“It’s Ren. Or Sproglet. And if you don’t like what you hear, don’t be nosey.”
I forced a look of disapproval, though my smile threatened to break through. I vaguely heard Rosalie’s thoughts of approval over my daughter's mild disrespect for me. I had to admit, I secretly approved of it too, because it was a trait purely inherited from Bella.
“You know as well as I do that seeing your future is difficult,” Alice replied.
“Yes, yes, Alice, I know. But your visions of me are getting better, right?”
In truth, Alice’s visions of Renesmee had improved, much to the surprise and relief of the entire family. When Bella was pregnant, Alice could see nothing of either Bella or Renesmee. For the first few years after Renesmee was born, there was little change: Renesmee’s future remained unreachable, as were the futures of others when their timelines intersected. Within the last eighteen months, small changes had begun to occur. While Alice did not experience spontaneous visions of Renesmee, if she concentrated on any future involving Renesmee—save the futures involving the wolves—she could make out blurred aspects.
“Come on, just one quick peek. It’s ok if it’s fuzzy, you’ll get the idea, right? Today is a big day. I want it to be the best day ever… but what if I mess it up? What if there’s a disaster? What if the other kids don’t like me? What if I don’t like them? What if a meteor hits the school and all my friends die before they even become my friends? Worst of all, what if it’s boring? I need to know, Auntie Alice, I need to know!”
Pulling out the auntie card? The manipulation is unwarranted. Everybody in this family would stop at nothing for Renesmee, with myself topping the list of those fulfilling her every whim.
Alice’s eyes softened with affection and then glossed over as she reached for Renesmee’s future. I saw the unclear images flash through Alice’s mind. Milky clouds, both impossibly smooth yet fuzzy round the edges, obscured the vision. The sounds were distorted, almost as if we were listening underwater or watching an old, damaged film reel on questionable apparatus. Through the haze there were laughs, smiles, and pure joy. The clearest image was of Renesmee pushing her cheek against mine, grinning, while I seemed annoyed. I wondered what that was about.
“You’re going to have a great day. I see no meteors wiping everybody out.”
“I could have told you they’d be no meteors,” Bella called from our room upstairs. Less than a second later, she was at my side. Automatically, I snaked an arm around her waist. A jolt of electricity went through me as I pulled her closer. It’s never not a pleasure to touch her.
“Edward.” Bella’s tone was curt, though the small smile that played upon her perfect lips gave away her amusement. “I’m not sure if it’s genetic or if you’re just a bad influence. You’ve made our child overly dramatic. And Alice, you’re indulging their shared neurosis. A meteor? Really?”
There’s nothing wrong with worrying about meteors. It’s perfectly sane, normal, and definitely not dramatic.
“Hello, love, it’s a pleasure to have you finally join us.” I kissed her temple lightly. It truly was a pleasure. I breathed in her scent, her soft freesia filling my lungs, healing every wound I didn’t know I had. “And for the record, I’m not dramatic.”
Bella stared at me pointedly as a chorus of thoughts immediately enveloped my mind, all overlapping, but all distinctly clear.
Is he serious? Kid’s deranged. Emmett.
He feels deeply. It is not the same as being dramatic. Esme.
No self awareness. Jasper.
The visions I’ve seen of you, and you have the nerve to claim you’re not dramatic? Alice.
Son, I’m afraid I’m with Bella on this one. Carlisle.
Da Nile is a river in Egypt. Renesmee.
May I remind you of the aftermath of Bella’s 18th birthday? Rosalie.
I winced. Shame and guilt washed over me as my hand tightened around Bella’s waist. My perfect recall assaulted me with perfect clarity. Some of the memories playing in my mind were my own, some were picked from the minds of those who saw what I had done to her, some were visions lifted from Alice. Bella’s broken heart, plain on her face when I told her I was leaving. Bella’s frail human body, carried by Sam Uley. Bella waking up screaming. Bella catatonic. Bella jumping off a cliff.
Half a decade later, the pain is still raw. My actions were unforgivable—are still unforgivable.
I hoped that just like the images of the black events, my pain and guilt never fade. I hoped that it regularly surfaces its ugly head, punishing me eternally, reminding me to never hurt her again. The pain is my penance, I will gladly endure it.
Edward? Jasper eyed me with alarm before sending a wave of calm over me.
“Yeah, right. You are dramatic,” Bella teased me, unaware of my unplanned fall into despair. “Hopefully, the combined dramatics of your gene pool manifest. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to be hit by that meteor. School. Ugh! The misery of it.”
My response was automatic, my voice rougher and more intense than how I usually spoke to her. “I simply will not allow you to be hit by a meteor.”
Edward, dude… Emmett.
Awww. Esme.
Ew, can the meteor hit me now, please? Renesmee.
“The disaster has already hit.” Alice’s voice was glum, but her eyes were full of malice, glaring at Bella. “Have you seen what we’re wearing?”
Alice had taken the uniform policy of our new school as a personal insult. A hell especially designed just for her. We all wore matching white shirts and black blazers with white piping in the lapel and the school emblem, a white rose, on the left breast. Jasper, Emmett, and I wore black pants, while Renesmee, Bella, Alice, and Rosalie wore pleated black skirts. Our necktie colours varied, representing the school houses we were assigned to.
As I looked Bella up and down, my mood instantly switched. I found myself very much in favour of the uniform, especially the skirt-only policy for female students. Though Bella wore pantyhose, the shape of her calves and ankles was clear. The skirt skimmed her knees, revealing a tease of her thighs. So barely visible but entirely captivating. Ungentlemanly plans for after school activities formed in my mind. I could take my time removing the school uniform. Or maybe I wouldn’t. My thoughts raced with ideas of what a necktie could do. And the skirt. Maybe I would leave the skirt in place, sliding down Bella’s undergarments only, gently bending—
Jeez, Edward, your emotional regulation is all over the place. Jasper’s thoughts snapped me out of my fantasy.
“But the uniform is just so fun, it’s very British! Just like Harry Potter.” Renesmee twirled excitedly.
“Not a good enough reason. I’ll never forgive either of you. How could you do this to me? You chose to bring us to a place with a uniform,” Alice spat the last word, as if it was the greatest filth upon her tongue. “And then you do this!” Alice continued, flapping her hands at Bella and Renesmee, as if pointing out something obvious. When she received only confused looks in response, she scowled as she clarified, “Why are you wearing your uniforms” — Alice gagged — “so neat? Where’s the flair? Where’s the style? You have no vision. Bella is bad enough, but et tu, Renesmee?”
“Ren.”
Alice ignored Renesmee's nickname plight, and instead said, “You inherit Edward’s dramatic flair—”
“Did not.”
“—but Bella’s fashion blindness. Make it make sense!” Alice shook her head forlornly. “There’s only so much you can do when covered by this thing.” Alice shook the arm of Bella’s blazer. “You still don’t put in the minimal effort.”
“And I’m the dramatic one?” I murmured under my breath.
“Edward!” Alice spun around, jabbing her finger into my chest. The force would have hospitalised a human. “This. Is. Not. Dramatic. This is important. Just… look at them!”
“They’re both beautiful.”
“Argh!” Alice’s groan was accompanied by the mental equivalent of eye rolls, and an actual eye roll from Rosalie.
Alice flitted to Renesmee to fix whatever perceived problem she found. Something to do with her collar. Alice then removed Bella from my hold, muttering profanities as her target resisted the beautifying attempts.
“Alice, this really isn’t necessary,” Bella grumbled.
“You still don’t love me, Bella.” Alice’s tone was short. “I do so much for you. I tailored everybody’s uniform, but you manage to find the one blazer that I have not yet fixed. These are shoulder pads for crying out loud! The power woman look died in the 80s, thank God. But you wouldn’t know that or even care. Without me, you’d be a walking fashion disaster. You rarely let me help your handicap, and when you do, you still manage to mess it up. You never appreciate my efforts.”
Bella opened her mouth to argue before Alice cut her off.
“Yes, I know you let me plan your wedding, but that was five whole years ago. What have you let me do for your aversion to all things aesthetic since?”
“It’s so annoying when you answer me in your visions and not on what I actually said,” Bella griped.
“Tell me about it,” Jasper cut in.
“No, Bella.” I shook my head, grinning. “Alice didn’t have a vision this time, you’re just so utterly predictable.”
Bella scowled at me.
“And it’s annoying when you pick people’s brains.” Alice stuck her tongue out at me. “Anyway, Bella, it’s my responsibility as your maid of honour to make sure you look just as beautiful every day as you did at your wedding.”
“I don’t think that’s typically part of maid of honour duties…”
“Hush.” Alice took Bella’s hair out of the ponytail and pulled her skirt up two inches, revealing more of her perfect thighs. Before I had time to be silently appreciative, Bella looked at me, her long-suffering expression silently pleading for my intervention. I held back my smile as I reached out my hand to rescue her.
“Alice, may I have my wife back?”
“I guess you’ll do for today,” Alice grumbled, surrendering Bella to me. Left the damn shoulder pads in. And there’s no waist definition.
I saw the future shift in Alice’s mind as she committed to accosting Bella after school to tailor fit her uniform. Eying Alice with disapproval, I committed to rescuing Bella. The future shifted again. Alice narrowed her eyes at me.
It’s going to fix this travesty no matter what you decide. Anyway, you’ll love the end result.
Alice’s mind switched to translating Great Expectations into Korean Sign Language. She was blocking me. I considered concentrating harder to get through her blockage before Renesmee interrupted, “Okay, okay, enough of this. We should get going, we can’t be late on our first day! It’s time to go make some friends!” She pushed her hands flat against Emmett, trying to shift him out of the room. “Let’s go, go, go!”
“Not too many friends,” interjected Jasper. “Last time we went to high school, somebody got too friendly with the humans, and we managed to gain a Cullen.”
“Which led to gaining The Sproglet,” Emmett added, as he gave into Renesmee’s efforts, allowing him to be shuffled toward the garage.
The drive to school was infuriating. Our new home and school were in the heart of the Pennines mountain region of England. While the landscape was objectively beautiful, the terrain made for less than ideal driving conditions. The roads were short, with twists, turns and erratic elevation, often not wide enough for two cars. I had to park in a ditch to let an oncoming car pass me. I drove maddeningly slow, averaging 84 miles per hour. According to the sat nav, the journey from our house to the school should have taken 45 minutes. It took me 22 minutes. I would like to have made it in less than 15.
“Oh my god, we’re here.” Renesmee pressed her palms and face up against the glass of the backseat window, drinking in the anachronistic mismatch of modern and historic buildings that made up the school.
The main school house, officially called Hebden House, was a mid-1700s English stately home. In the Palladian style, the building was suitably impressive with symmetry being of the utmost importance in its design. The sandy coloured facade boasted evenly distributed ornate windows and pillars inspired from Greek and Roman traditions. According to the information packs we received, the main house was initially built for the first Baron of Hebden, but had been claimed as a school building since the late 1800s. Overtime, buildings were added to the grounds as student numbers grew. To the east of Hebden House were modern additions—brutalist monstrosities which formed a miniature concrete jungle. They deserved no attention. To the west of Hebden House stood a modern sports centre. Plate glass, an attempt at eco friendly design. Surrounding the buildings were both manicured fields and astroturf covered pitches. A large sign in the grounds declared the collection of buildings to be The White Rose Grammar School and Sixth Form College.
I turned toward Bella in the passenger seat. The sparkle in her eyes told me that she was impressed by the architecture of Hebden House. Yes, I thought to myself, coming to England was an excellent choice.
“You ready?” I asked quietly.
Bella nodded. “I suppose it’s time we take these off.”
I sighed heavily as I removed my wedding band. The act felt profoundly wrong. I wanted nothing more than to declare to the world that Bella was mine and I hers. That we were made for each other. That we were bound in every possible way. Fated. My left ring finger felt naked and cold. Since our wedding, this was the fifth time I had ever taken it off, the only other times having been for yearly polishing. Which I had done myself. My wedding band has never been out of contact with my skin. Planning to keep it that way, I attached my band to a chain around my neck, which I tucked under my shirt. If I couldn't wear it as intended, it would at least stay close to where my metaphorical heart resided.
I frowned as Bella, too, removed her wedding ring before placing it on a necklace. Noticing my reaction, she grinned, before wiggling her right hand with her engagement ring on. She had placated my sensibilities by agreeing to keep wearing it, even though it was now on the wrong finger.
You’re silly, Edward.
I stared at her in adoration. Bella dropping her shield was always an exquisite gift. I loved hearing her mental voice, no matter how inconsequential the thought. When Bella actively chooses to share her private declarations with me, my own gift is no longer a voyeuristic invasion of others, but a deeply intimate act of love between me and my wife. I felt a swelling in my chest, the phantom beating of my long-dead heart aching to be closer to her. I leaned in, cupping her face in my hands before pressing my lips to hers, kissing her the way I would have done when she was human. Gentle, soft, full of tenderness, but also the longing for more.
Pulling back no more than an inch, I kept her precious face in my hands as I stroked her cheeks with my thumbs. “You may not be wearing your ring, and I may not be wearing mine. But remember this, Isabella Marie Swan Masen Cullen. You’re still mine, and I am still yours. I love you now and I will love you for all eternity.”
Bella’s breath caught in her throat. I rubbed my nose gently against hers before leaning in to close the inch between me and my beautiful wife once more, ready to drink in her touch, her breath, her taste. Our kiss was deeper this time, the gentleness quickly evaporating. Entirely the type of kiss I would never have entertained when she was human. I held her face firmly and pulled her closer, intending to deny every law of physics. We could be closer still, always.
I felt a hand smash down on my head. Renesmee’s thoughts invaded my mind.
Ooookay, time we got out. Did you forget I’m here, you sickos?
Leaning back, I saw Renesmee's other hand on Bella’s head, having sent her the same message.
“Okay.” I chuckled. “Time to present these fine young debutantes to high society. Or should I say to high school?”
I exited the car and moved to open the passenger door. Bella took my hand as I eased her out.
“Did you ever attend a debutante ball?” she asked.
“Definitely not post 1918. In my human years, I’m not entirely sure. Possibly not. I would have been too young for any serious marriage prospects.”
“Yes, married at seventeen or eighteen is way too young. It happened to me, I’m afraid. Relentless pursuit from a man way too old for me. It’s okay though, I recently got divorced.” She wiggled her ringless finger at me. “I’m looking for a new boyfriend now. Would you like to take up that role?”
I knew she was only teasing me, but I didn’t like that word. Divorce. I also had a distaste for the word boyfriend. It wasn’t enough. It never had been enough. Still, I would play along. At least we didn’t have to hide that we were together. Boyfriend was an intolerable downgrade, but wife was too much for humans to accept for supposed seventeen year olds, even if the legal marriage age in Britain is sixteen. I had checked, but hadn’t mentioned it to Bella. Alice had shown me that Bella would laugh in my face if I suggested debuting high school as a married couple. So, boyfriend it was. In all my years of starting over and assuming different identities, this was the most frustrating. Boyfriend indeed.
“I suppose that could work.” I entwined my hand in hers. Somewhere behind us, Renesmee made an exaggerated gagging sound.
I walked across the parking lot hand in hand with my Bella, Renesmee skipping alongside us. Unsurprisingly, our arrival did not go unnoticed. From attempts of subtle glances to outright gawking, a moment did not go by where we were not in the spotlight of somebody’s mind. Whispers and thoughts of both attraction and trepidation followed us.
They're like models.
He can’t be real.
Are they related?
They’re kind of... creepy.
Bella shifted uncomfortably. “Was I this obvious when I was human?”
“Well, I was so focused on you from the moment I laid eyes on you, everything you did was in sharp focus. But” — the corner of my mouth twitched — “you did have an erratic heartbeat that betrayed your silent pretty head.”
Bella grimaced.
“Aww, was it love at first sight?” Renesmee’s eyes sparkled. As much as she complained about Bella and my affections, she was a romantic deep down. Just like her mother.
“Actually, more frustration at first sight,” and then unjustified, unreasonable, and unforgivable hatred, I added mentally, remembering the battering ram of her scent that threatened to undo my decades of practice, my decades of resistance. Ah, how that loathing did not last long, fated to my siren as I am.
Something is off… but they’re so pretty.
Don’t think of girls that way, don’t think of girls that way.
Damn it, I don’t think he’s single.
I smiled at that thought and squeezed Bella’s hand. Yes, I’m very much not single.
I’d tap the light haired one.
What a ride.
Them lasses are both proper fit.
Bang tidy.
What a fantastic day to like both boys and girls.
Nice tits on her.
There they were. The lustful thoughts from the more sexually frustrated humans invaded my mind. I was no stranger to such lecherous wonderings. I had long ago learned to tune out the images that others had of my adoptive parents, siblings, and myself. The images of my wife took more effort to ignore. While I was never comfortable with the images that the likes of Mike Newton or Tyler Crawley conjured of her, I now had experience with the real Bella. No fantasies or thoughts ever did justice to the goddess she is. Still, the fantasies rankled me, but with effort, I could relegate them to the background of my second hearing. I had seen variations of the current fantasies before. I was prepared. I knew what would come.
I was not prepared to hear similar fantasies applied to my daughter.
I stopped still, jaw clenching shut with an audible snap. I saw red. Rage had awakened the monster. He wished—I wished—for nothing more than to end the debased minds that conjured these fantasies. It would be a simple task. A hand to the jugular, a twist of the neck. The offending humans would be dead before they could register their fate. I couldn’t follow through on my dark fantasies. Not because of any moral reason to preserve life that I usually subscribed to. No, but because if I did kill them, their last thoughts would be of my daughter.
Unacceptable.
There was one non-violent way of ending the thoughts invading my mind. It wouldn’t stop those thoughts existing, and this angered me. It would have to do, though, lest I abandon the pacifist life Carlisle believed us capable of. Taking a deep, calming breath, I spoke slowly, “Bella, please shield the boy with cropped hair and a mole on the left side of his neck.”
The worst of the fantasies of Renesmee stopped. I shot the perpetrator an unforgiving glare, unsure whether it was fuelled by paternal or vampiric rage. Perhaps both. Either way, the boy cringed into himself. I wasn’t fully satisfied, but I found pleasure in his clear discomfort. I took one more calming breath before pulling Bella to join the throng of students entering the sixth form entrance.
“What was that about?” Renesmee asked. I shook my head in response, a silent warning for her to drop the question.
My throat responded to the crowd. The burn was low, manageable. After Bella’s blood, the most sweet and delicious scent, the most glorious taste… no other blood could compare. No blood could tempt me. My control had always been second to Carlisle, roughly equal to Rosalie. But now the gap between me and my father was minuscule. Blood hardly bothered me anymore. I could probably practice medicine now, rather than have a purely theoretical knowledge, if I were so inclined.
I glanced at the two most important women in my life. Bella’s throat muscles were convulsing; otherwise, she seemed fine. Renesmee showed no signs of being affected. A benefit of her half-human genetics, I surmised.
We entered Hebden House. The inside of the building was not nearly as grand as the exterior. It was, after all, a working school building. Corridor walls were littered with notice boards, the floors were well trodden, and the occasional overhead light was broken. We found our way to the assembly hall easily.
A strong Yorkshire accent spoke through a megaphone. “Stop faffin abou’ and sit thi sen in’t proper row for ye ‘owses.”
“Woah, I barely understood what he said. This accent is crazy.” Renesmee squealed with glee.
“Did Wuthering Heights prepare you for the realities or the West Yorkshire dialect?” I teased Bella.
“Hmm. Not sure. I might have to read it again. For science.”
“What a way to waste eternity,” I muttered as I found the row assigned to Lister House and slipped in with Bella and Renesmee.
The seats around us slowly filled as more students entered the hall. A girl with brown hair sat to my left, her natural instincts making her initially shy away from me, but my overkill predatory nature lured her in. She was stealing glances at me from the corner of her eye. I returned her glance and noticed her eyes were a deep shade of chocolate brown. Not quite the same shade that Bella’s used to be, but close. I smiled. She immediately blushed red. I couldn’t help but smile more, remembering when Bella used to blush for me. My spontaneous reaction caused the girl’s blush to deepen and her eyes to glaze over. Her mind raced, heart pounded, panicking over the beautiful stranger who had noticed her. She didn’t know whether to run from me or into me.
Edward, stop dazzling people.
Ah. I gladly turned away from the girl to my wife.
“I could say the same thing about you, love. Do you wish me to tell you exactly who you have managed to dazzle? That boy over there is lucky to be alive right now.” I nodded in the direction of the boy who made mental comments about Bella’s “bang tidy” status.
“Calm down, Orwell,” she replied.
Our conversation was cut short by the arrival of a stern looking grey-haired man. He walked with the confidence of somebody who expected, and always received, the utmost respect. At his presence, the room fell silent. Students and faculty rose to their feet.
“Good morning, Year 12. Be seated.”
I heard a small squeak of excitement from Renesmee as we retook our seats. It seemed that she was enjoying the formalities immensely.
“I’m Dr. Clarkson, headmaster of The White Rose Grammar School and Sixth Form College.”
I held back a laugh. Doctor? Every PhD I knew, including myself, found it highly uncomfortable and awkward to use the title in everyday life. How pompous.
“First, I wanted to say welcome to the new students who have joined us, and welcome back to those of you who have been with us throughout your school careers.” Doctor Clarkson cleared his throat before continuing. “You now enter into the world of your A Levels. While we want you to succeed academically, we aim to also set you up for the future, be that an apprenticeship or applying to university. We have a long and proud history here at The White Rose Grammar School and Sixth Form College. We follow a traditional house system, where our houses are Brontë, Shaw, Lister and Moore…”
Bored of Doctor Clarkson, I relegated his words to a background channel of my concentration. I turned my attention to my wife and daughter. Renesmee was leaning forward, concentrating on the headmaster’s speech, taking in, with all seriousness, everything he said. To my surprise, Bella was concentrating too, also leaning slightly forward. I mentally catalogued that I should ask Bella why the change of heart. Looking over Bella and Renesmee, I was struck by how similar postures and facial expressions were. It seemed blindingly obvious to me that they were related. I wondered idly if our cover story would hold. I couldn’t dwell on the thought too long, as we were rising to our feet as the headmaster finished his drawl.
“Thank you for your time, Year 12. Good luck with this academic year. Please follow your form tutors to your respective form group. Make sure to remember our school motto today and throughout your time here: Together we work to ensure our individual successes.”
How utterly corny.
We emptied into the tight school corridors. Bella’s eyes were wide, her jaw slightly stiff.
“You okay?” I asked.
“So many people…” Bella closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the slight wrinkling in her eyelids betraying her thirst.
“We can go home if it’s too much.”
“No, no. I’m fine. It’s just a lot. I’ve not slipped up yet, and I don’t plan to do so today. Let’s get to homeroom.”
“I don’t think they call it that here. What was it, form group?”
“Something like that.”
We followed our assigned form tutor through the corridors of Hedben House to our form room. I found myself glad our classroom was in the main building, and not one of the brutalist insults. Bella, Renesmee and I settled ourselves at the back of the classroom as twelve other students entered. Without fail, each one glanced our way.
So we got the hot ones, huh? Nice.
Something is just off about them. Maybe not the ginger girl. She’s kind of normal looking.
Hell yeah, the brunette looks freaky.
He’s actually so perfect.
Gonna have to get to know them.
Why does he look so pissed off?
Our form teacher introduced himself as Mr. Cook. He was nervous. His thoughts betrayed that he was a newly qualified teacher, having only graduated with his physics teaching degree this summer past. Even without his thoughts, his inexperience was blatantly obvious. He appeared no older than twenty four years old. Bella’s chronological age, come next week, I noted to myself. I wondered lightly what Bella would be doing now if I had never met her. Would she be a newly qualified teacher, standing in front of a classroom of students for the first time? Would she be in a relationship with an unknown man, unlikely to be married, I’m sure, but certainly with no Renesmee? The image was painful, so I quashed it.
“Your form group is made up of everybody in the same year and house as you. So, this is 12-Lister as you’re all in year 12 and Lister house,” Mr. Cook added redundantly. “Today is induction, but usually we will meet once a week, on a Thursday, starting next week. Today, we will work on activities to help support your studies, your future, and your general citizenship skills. Any questions?”
There were no questions.
“Ok, let’s take the register then.” Mr. Cook fumbled on the desktop computer. “Hannah Ackroyd.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Zaki Alwan.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Isabella Cullen.”
“Yes, sir.”
Is she American?
The roll call continued, with Jamie Eaves, Luke Gallagher, Ryan Harrison and Sara Khan declaring their presence.
“Edward Masen.”
“Yes, sir.”
Another American?
“Ren-eez-mee Masen.”
“Um, it’s Ren-ez-may, but you can call me Ren.”
“Oh, sorry, um, Ren. Noted.” Mr. Cook internally cursed himself. Shit. Never heard of that name before though. Maybe it’s an American name?
The thoughts of the class were in tandem with Mr. Cook.
Wren-Esme? Like a bird?
Weird.
It’s a little unusual, but it sounds pretty.
Odd, but I like it.
The hell kind of dumb name is that?
My eyes narrowed and my nostrils flared. Bella kicked my leg under the table. I rearranged my face to a neutral expression.
The roll call ended with Olive Mitchell, Stephenie Morgan, Cassandra Paddock, Daniel Palmer, Johnathon Ramsden, and Lauren Willison completing the class roster for 12-Lister.
“Okay guys, thanks for that!” Mr. Cook announced, his voice thick with enthusiasm, dripping with the desperation of a man who wished to be liked. “So, I hope you’re all going to become great friends and colleagues to each other over the next two years. As part of that, there are some induction activities. On the 13th, we will be having our cultural immersion and team building day trip. This year, we are going to Whitby. Make sure you get these permission slips signed by a parent or guardian, and return them to the school office by this Friday. Any questions?”
There were no questions.
“Okay, now we’ll be moving onto some peer building activities so you can all get to know each other.”
Bella groaned. “Oh no.”
I responded in low tones. “A forever of icebreakers. Isn’t this everything you dreamed of when you asked to become one of the eternal damned?”
She shot me an annoyed look. Adorable.
The icebreaker activities that Mr. Cook assigned were utterly mind rotting. Speed Introductions revealed that Hannah and Sarah were also new students to White Rose. During Two Truths, One Lie, Luke claimed that his truthful statement was that he could bench press 90 kilograms. His thoughts revealed that this statement was in fact a lie, and his personal best was actually 87.25 kilograms, and even then he didn’t lock his elbows out fully in his latest attempt. The last activity before the lunch break was less of an activity. It was a half hour socialisation period, where we were encouraged to freely talk to one another and make “contacts for our future”. I didn’t see the point of it, as we were about to have a lunch period—is that not the time for socialising? Not like I would go out of my way to talk to the humans, admittedly.
A broad shouldered blond boy, who the roll call had identified as Daniel, approached us with a mousey haired girl and a bespectacled boy in tow.
“Ello!” He straddled the chair next to Renesmee backwards, leaning his crossed arms on the top of the backrest. “I’m Dan, this is Zaki and Cassie. You guys are Edward, Isabella and Renesmee, yeah?”
Renesmee and Bella spoke at the same time.
“Just Bella.”
“Just Ren.”
“Bella. Got it.” She’s kinda freaky in that hot gothy sort of way. “And Ren.” Much more my type.
I felt my eyes narrow slightly. Imperceptible to humans. If Bella or Renesmee were looking at me, they would have noticed. I quickly reset my face. I had a feeling I would be doing that a lot in the near future.
“So, I got a question for y’all,” Dan said the final word with a horrible attempt at what I assumed to be a Texan accent. “You’re Yanks, right? What are you doing in this shithole?”
My eyebrows furrowed reprovingly, not subtle to humans this time. How could he be so crass in the presence of three women?
Bella kicked me, again. I rearranged my face, again. Yes, there would be a lot of facial control today.
“We’re on a foreign placement programme. The aim is to help us experience a new culture,” Bella answered.
“Nice. Can’t say you’ll learn much here though.” Dan laughed. “We haven’t got much going on. The most exciting thing is that they built that big Tesco’s in town last summer. But that’s it. Nowt much else really. You’re the most exciting thing we’ve had in a while. We don’t get a lot of Yanks here.” He eyed Renesmee for a second. “Here, Ren, say tomato.”
“Dan!” Cassie spoke up. “You can’t go around asking them to say things like they’re dancing bears. It’s rude.”
I liked Cassie.
Renesmee giggled. “Tomato.”
Dan grinned. “You see, that’s proper mental that is. You say it all wrong. You’re butchering our language.” He shook his head dramatically.
“I don’t know,” Renesmee replied. “You sound so strange to me. Maybe you’re the ones who are wrong?”
“Not a chance. We’re the originals. Bella, can you do better? Where do you park your car?”
“The garage,” she answered.
“See? You say things so weird. Edward, what in the actual buggering hell is a softmore?”
I clicked my tongue at the profanity. My answer was terse, only barely concealing my irritation. My patience was running thin. “Do you mean a sophomore?”
“I dunno, you tell me.” He was still grinning like a simpleton, somehow oblivious to my less than favourable disposition.
I sighed. “The second year of an educational system. In the States, a high school sophomore is the equivalent of your Year 11. We are the equivalent of high school juniors. One year above a sophomore.”
“Well, shit me. It always confused me watching your films and everybody was like `I’m a softmore in college! Alpha, delta, kappa! Go sorority wildcats, yeah, the captain of the linebackers has a 12.3 GPA and he might not be able to make the spring fling winter formal, wooo!' Like what does any of that even mean? Your college is uni, right?”
Dan was highly entertained by his own jokes. Good for him, I supposed, being entertained by mundanity.
He barraged the conversation on. “Got another one. Bella, what do you look in to see your reflection?”
“A mirror.”
“Sounds like you’ve had an aneurysm.”
The trite conversation was somehow becoming duller by the second. Inwardly, I’m tearing my hair out. Outwardly, I force a look of mild amusement.
“Okay, okay. Another one. Ren, if you remove your pants, what are you taking off?”
My eyes snapped to Daniel and my fists clenched shut. The child in the parking lot was small fry now. Daniel was public enemy number one. I wanted to backhand him across the classroom, shattering his skull against the wall, for his disrespect. I could imagine it, his whimpers short, and the blood and life seeped from him. The violence of the image soothed me.
“Mate… right in front of her brother? Not okay.” Zaki shook his head. Dumbass.
“Oh shit, sorry. Was just having fun, nothing meant by it.” Though to be honest, I wouldn’t mind getting in Bella or Ren’s pants.
Over my pile of ashes.
I stared at him, cold hearted. He avoided eye contact, shuffling awkwardly in his seat, finally registering my distaste for him.
Oh shit. He’s one of those brothers.
No, Daniel, I’m one of those fathers.
As I stared, black fantasies swirled in my mind. Violence radiated from me. Daniel’s bravado started to slip. He tried to fight what his body was telling him, the warning signs that he was a dead man walking. Braver than the average human, I’d give him that. Ultimately, though, his innate prey behaviour would win out. I would watch him quiver, and I would enjoy it.
Edward, stop it.
My concentration broke at Bella’s mental tone. Ah, she always brings me back to sanity. I relaxed my stance, moving my glare from Daniel to stare absently at the poster on the wall, instilling the importance of the proper order of function in mathematical calculation.
Huh? I don’t get it. What’s wrong with pants?
Perhaps Renesmee had been too sheltered.
Cassie broke the silence, hoping to divert the tension. “Are you twins? You had the same last name on the register.” Her eyes dashed between me and Renesmee. The hair, obviously. And their noses are the same. Not the eyes though.
“Yes! Teddy is my twinsie—”
My eyebrows shot up, my mood sharply shifting from anger to incredulity. Teddy? I heard Bella snort next to me.
“—can you tell?” Renesmee threw her arms around me and pressed her cheek against mine. I saw my annoyed face in Cassie’s mind, harking the vision that Alice saw earlier. “We call him Teddy because, well, he doesn’t like Eddie. And because he acts all tough and angry and brooding all the time… but he’s such a big softy on the inside. So, anyways, as I was saying, me and Teddy Bear are twins. Bella is always telling us that we look the same, but I don’t see it. My baby twin brother is twenty minutes younger than me, so that means he’s twenty minutes uglier than me. We look nothing alike.”
I’m twenty minutes younger? Renesmee was embellishing the story, and apparently was having the time of her life doing so. I didn’t mind so much being the younger sibling, but did she really have to call me Teddy? I have never in my existence even gone as Ted. Sure, Emmett and Jasper call me Ed, and Emmett tries to force Eddie against my will... but Teddy? I blanched at the thought.
“I don’t know, you do look very similar. No escaping that you’re related,” Cassie commented.
Noooooo say it ain’t so. This is such a tragedy. Mom was so pretty as a human and I had to look like him?
I agree, Renesmee.
“Do you have, like, a secret language or twin telepathy?” Zaki asked. “My aunties are twins and they’re always finishing each other's sentences. It’s kinda creepy.”
“Absolutely!” Renesmee squealed. “Teddy can read my mind. Watch this. You got a pen and paper?” Cassie handed Renesmee some. She wrote on the paper and passed it to Zaki. Placing her finger in her temples dramatically, my daughter stared at me, intensity etched in every contour of her face. “Teddy, I’ve written a fruit on that piece of paper. What is it?”
Renesmee mentally yelled at me. BANANA BANANA BANANA.
The corner of my mouth twitched slightly at the absurdity of it.
“Grapes.”
“Ehhh.” Zaki made a cross with his arms. “Wrong! It was banana.” He unfolded the piece of paper and showed it to me.
Renesmee pouted. Spoilsport.
I laughed, the first moment of joy in this interaction.
“Ted, mate, you’re the shittest mind reader I’ve ever seen,” Daniel scoffed.
I stopped laughing, a scowl crossing my face. Bella kicked me again.
During the lunch hour, Renesmee, Bella, and I joined Rosalie, Emmett, Jasper, and Alice in the sixth form cafeteria. It was a small mercy that older students did not have to share a dining area with the eleven year olds. I pushed the watery pasta around in the takeout container. It looked barely edible, even by human standards.
While my body was present with my family, my mind was elsewhere. Ninety percent of my mental capacity was scanning the thoughts of those around us, checking for warning signs. The other ten percent was on Bella. Always.
“Anything to worry about so far?” Jasper asked.
I shook my head. “The usual. Plastic surgery, make up, exceptionally good genes. Nothing out of the ordinary. Not an ounce of horror, unless you count the new one where we are experiencing symptoms of the all-American diet.”
Jasper nodded in assent. “Good. Alice, anything from your end?”
“Let me see." Alice went silent for a few seconds and I watched the near futures swirling in her mind. "Other than Edward death staring this one blond kid, nothing.”
I prodded the disgusting pasta more aggressively in response to a vision of me sitting at a lunch table with Daniel. The vision was milky, so Renesmee must be present in it somewhere. I had no plans of becoming friends with, or even talking to, that insufferable cretin. I would much rather let Jane have at me for an hour. What decision led me to voluntarily be in his presence?
Emmett grinned. “Let me guess, somebody had impure thoughts about precious Bella? Take it as a compliment, Edward. She’s hot and people notice. If I got upset every time somebody looked at Rose, I would be forever miserable.”
“Oh, is that why you were so annoyed in the parking lot?” Renesmee asked.
I sighed heavily, throwing the plastic fork down on the table, pushing the foul pasta away from me.
“What about when Dan—”
Bella chimed in, cutting Renesmee off mid-sentence. “Maybe we should worry about Edward’s impure thoughts. He was dazzling poor Hannah Ackroyd earlier, during the assembly.” She shook her head lightly, faux outrage in her face, her wicked eyes goading me.
“Fancy yourself another human, Eddie?” Emmett joked.
“Never,” I replied in a clipped tone. I would not joke about this when my wedding band had been removed from my finger for a total of three hours and forty-two minutes. Not when I could hear the mental voices of a faculty member noticing Bella, and calculating what half his age plus seven would be.
“Someone’s touchy,” Jasper commented. He honed in on my emotional aura. “In fact, very touchy.”
Jasper was right. I was annoyed as all hell. I was constantly being assaulted by lustful imaginings of each and every member of my family, including my wife and my daughter, and I couldn’t ask Bella to shield too often. I needed to stay on alert. I pinched the bridge of my nose and furrowed my brow as I picked up Daniel’s voice approaching the cafeteria door. Could my situation get any worse?
“Seriously, they’re both so unbelievably hot. Just ask Cassie and Zak.”
“Do you ever see women not as objects?” A girl’s voice replied.
“Look, I’m a feminist and stuff, but men and women are just different. And these lasses just bring out what’s natural in us men. Wait until you see them and you’ll get it. When you see someone as fit as that, you just can’t help it. Trust, they’ll turn you into a lezza, I swear down.”
“You’re seriously such a pig. How the hell can you claim to be a feminist when you objectify women like that?” How the hell are we related? Kill me now.
They entered the cafeteria. Daniel’s eyes glossed over as he took in Rosalie. As most men do when experiencing her for the first time, his mind went blank, his mouth dry, and his heart rate accelerated.
“And I thought them girls in form were fit,” he said with nothing short of amazement.
“Not a chance.” The girl laughed before hitting Daniel round the head. “Stop being a perv.”
I felt anger build throughout their exchange. Bella is the most tantalising, the most exquisite, the most heartbreakingly beautiful creature in all of the universe. Not Rosalie. Daniel was a lecherous fiend but too much of a fool to realise his lust is misplaced.
Jasper sent a wave of calm over me.
What is wrong with me? I don’t want that deplorable child to objectify Bella, but I’m insulted when he finds another more attractive than her. I need to get my reactions under control.
The rest of the school day ran smoothly. Or as smoothly as could be expected when an undercurrent of rage fuelled my actions. When we returned to our form groups for more thrilling icebreaker activities, Daniel wasn’t obviously crude anymore; his knowledge that I was Renesmee’s “brother”, and a beating down from the girl at lunchtime seemed to make him outwardly behave, for the most part. Not that his thoughts were free of sin or that there wasn't any double entendre in his words. If my teeth were not near invincible, I would have ground them into nothingness.
As we arrived home, not a second too soon in my opinion, Alice barked her orders, “Everybody get changed. Now.”
Bella raised an eyebrow and whispered conspiratorially, “What do you think would happen if I didn’t change out of the uniform?”
“None of those futures look good for you, Bella,” Alice warned. “Get changed.”
Alice flitted up to her room.
“Let’s not feel the wrath of my sister, shall we?” I said as I led Bella to our room.
Closing the door, I turned to face my wife. After the aggravations of the day, I was in need of a palate cleanser. And there was no sweeter balm than my Bella.
I unabashedly raked my eyes over her. I didn’t need to breathe, but my breath still caught in my throat. I drank her in, like I was seeing the truth of the universe, like I was seeing immaculate beauty for the first time. Every sliver of anger that had been building twisted and contorted into awe, lust, love, reverence, and desire.
I closed the gap between us, bringing my hand up to slowly play with the lapel of her blazer. The uniform was objectively rather bland, but something about it triggered delicious sparks deep inside my abdomen. And it would only get worse with the tailored version that Alice had promised. I wondered if the improved version of the uniform would have Bella wearing white, knee-length socks rather than pantyhose. I noted, with surprise, that the curiosity had turned into hope. Yes, white knee-length socks would be very nice.
“I don’t know why Alice is so mad. Personally, I am rather fond of the uniform.”
“It has its benefits, I’ll give you that.”
Bella grabbed my necktie, pulling me towards her. Our lips met ferociously. Stone on stone, venom on venom. Her exquisite taste mixed with my own scent. A unique blend of her honey-sweet freesia and my sandalwood filled my senses and infiltrated every ounce of my mind. Intoxicating. Addictive. My hands wandered over her neck, her torso, her stomach. Too much fabric. My need was strong. I had to touch any and every part of her. Cupping my hands under her backside, I hoisted her up. Her legs wrapped around my waist, and I was entirely grateful for the skirt-only policy. Her hands pulled at my hair as she moaned into our kiss. I automatically tightened my hold on her in response.
Pulling back from her lips, I rested my forehead against hers. A lazy grin spread across my face.
“Bella,” I whispered.
“Hmm?”
“You’re underdressed.”
She leaned back in my arms and frowned at me. “Quite the opposite, Edward.”
I set her back on her feet. “Hmm. You think? Is this what you’re after?” I slipped the blazer from her shoulders, tossing it to the side of the room. “Or this?” I loosened her necktie, before also banishing it. “Interesting,” I mused, almost to myself, “I feel like I can understand why you like stripping me out of a suit.”
“This is a useful addition to formalwear.” Her hand curled around my necktie and tugged again. I resisted, grinning down at her.
“Ah, but Bella. I’m trying to tell you that you’re underdressed. You’re going to distract me.” I started unbuttoning her shirt as I lay soft kisses along her jaw.
“Underdressed, and yet here you are taking my clothes off.”
“Indeed.” Her shirt joined the ever growing pile of discarded clothes. My hands skimmed her waist as I left wet kisses across her neck and collarbone. “Beautiful,” I murmured. My feather touch moved to behind her neck. I unclasped her necklace. “You’re underdressed, my love, because you’re not wearing this.” I removed her wedding ring from her necklace and held it up to her. “You turned a lot of heads today. You’re too irresistible. I’ve got a brand new queue of people behind me of people who are interested. I hope that you remember that you’re a married woman, Mrs. Cullen.”
“I’m not into the vampire-human romance thing, it’s kinda predatory, don’t you think?”
“Oh, absolutely. Humans have been known to be dangerous predators for our kind. If they capture you, it’s forever. Which reminds me—let me dress you appropriately.” I slipped the ring back onto her finger before lifting her hand to my mouth. Gently, I kissed each finger, the back of her palm, and then finally her ring. “I don’t like seeing you not wear it. Unless we’re at school, don’t let me catch you without it on again.” I leaned forward to place my lips a hair's breadth away from the shell of her ear, pitching my voice so my words would only be heard by her, “Though, I wouldn’t mind punishing you in your uniform. Maybe I could give you a detention.”
Bella gasped and I could smell the venom flooding her mouth. My mind went into a tailspin, my still heart sang, and the delicious tension in my stomach tightened further. I laid a soft kiss under that sweet spot of her ear.
“What about yours?” she demanded in a whisper, holding back her moan. Then, with no pacing, she stripped my torso bare within a second. Her brow furrowed when she saw my chain sans ring. Grinning, I lifted my left hand.
“I put it on in the car when we left.” I wiggled my fingers before tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “Unlike you, my lovely wife, unless I have to, I refuse to go even a second without wearing it.”
“Is that so? I wore this all day.” Bella moved her engagement ring from her right hand back to her left. “You’re the one who has had naked hands all day. I guess I love you more, after all.”
“I doubt that.” I placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Now, what was that about being naked? Perhaps we—”
What’s up, bloodsucker? I’m almost there. You got anything to eat? I’m starving.
I sighed. “Damn it. Jacob’s here.”