VIOLENT DELIGHTS | Rosalie Hale

CHAPTER EIGHT

GIRL ALL THE BAD GUYS WANT

IT STARTED POURING BUCKETS halfway through my shower, turning the water ice cold. For two hours after, I did nothing but sleep dreamlessly, more tired than I thought I was. I woke to the sound of the phone ringing, shrill through my door. It was Charlie. The school had called the station. "I wasn't really feeling very well, a friend dropped me off home."

"Shelley said you were crying in the girls' bathroom."

My jaw clenched, frustrated tears welling in my eyes. Only in a town this small would the staff be in on high school drama. "No, I just wasn't feeling well, Dad."

"Gracie." He sighed, clearly hearing the bite in my voice. "Ain't no boy in the world worth that, kid."

"Mm." I balance the phone between my shoulder and ear, picking at my nails.

"You're not still going with him on Saturday, are you?"

"No." I sulk. But not because it was my choice. "You're not mad I skipped class?"

"I'll call the school and tell them you've got a bad cold." He decides. "Take a couple days off. Gossip'll die down by then."

I smiled. Charlie was kind of the best. "I love you."

He grunted. "Bella's bringing you your schoolwork, every day."

And now he's back to Chief Swan. I roll my eyes. "Yes Dad."

"See you soon kid." And then a click.

I marched myself straight back to sleep.

Bella didn't come home until a little after sunset, when the last dredges of light lingered behind the clouds. I'd kept myself busy after my prolonged nap, cleaning up my room and then, room by room, the whole house. It had been a long time since I was in the house this long, let alone by myself. The repetitive tasks helped me sort my thoughts.

A part of me knew Rosalie had been right. I wasn't mad at my boyfriend because of a stupid dance. I was mad that he'd called me a sheep. That I was seeking approval, showing off that I had a boyfriend, trying my best to be the prettiest girl at the dance. I wanted that movie moment, where they dance in the middle of all the shiny streamers and he dips her low and they kiss and everyone's watching them with envy. It was shallow. And I was hurt because my boyfriend — the person I worked to impress the most — had called me out on it. Well, the second person. Because it stung so much more when Rosalie said it.

And now I was deep in a hole I'd dug myself into. The whole school had seen me weak, vulnerable. Poor Gracie Swan, crying in the bathroom like a total loser. They couldn't have heard what Adam and I were arguing about this time, not in his car with the windows rolled up. They didn't know what I was so ashamed of, thank god, but they did see me as a victim. Adam Wexler made his girlfriend cry so much she skipped school. I didn't know how I could come back from this.

I was doing my homework at the kitchen table when the silver Volvo rolled up. They waited at the curbside for a good while, and I considered coming out to rescue my sister with an umbrella before I thought better of interrupting the lovebirds. At least they were happy. Bella didn't hop out until an unfamiliar dark car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, its headlights briefly glancing off the kitchen window, blinding me.

Then Edward revved his engine, and his tires squealed against the wet pavement. Like Rosalie's convertible, the Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

Bella was talking to whoever was in the little black car. Whatever they were doing in the ridiculous rain, it got interrupted by Charlie's cruiser. I vaguely recognize the boy from our day at the beach, but his father is instantly familiar. Billy Black was heavyset. His face overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running trough the russet skin like an old leather jacket.