Hopeless Devotion ~ A Jasper Hale Story

Chapter Nineteen - Graduation

Monday June 11th

"I have nothing to wear!" Bella moaned from the room next to mine.

I laugh to myself and poke my head around the door. Her room looks like a tornado went through a thrift shop. Clothes everywhere—on the bed, spilling out of the closet, on the floor in neat little wads where she's given up trying to decide. Typical Bella—in a good way. The chaos fairy of fashion is definitely running late, but she'll show.

"Bella, look at me." I bounce into the center of the mess and set my bag down. "I got you. Let me do your hair, and Alice will probably have something." I already know what will work with the cap and gown: a half-up, half-down that looks effortless and keeps the tassel from tangling. I get to work and, like magic, Bella's nervous little breaths slow.

"Stupid, thieving, annoying vampire!" she growls.

I snicker into the crown of hair I'm twisting. "What did I do?"

Alice is leaning against the open window as if she'd been there the whole time—one shoulder propped on the sill and that grin like she's been planning a party in my name. "Knock, knock," she sings.

"Is it really so hard to wait until I get to the door?" Bella asks.

"Yes." I grin. "Especially for you."

Alice drops a small white box into my hands. My fingers freeze around it and I glance at Bella, waiting for her to react.

"I'm just passing through," Alice says breezily. "Thought you might need something to wear."

Bella grimaces at the box but doesn't move. I tuck a last pin into her hair, smoothing an anxious wrinkle from her temple. "Admit it," Alice says, arms folded like a queen offering mercy, "I'm a lifesaver."

"You're a lifesaver," Bella mumbles, voice small.

Alice shifts, suddenly irritated. "Well, it's nice to get something right for a change. You don't know how irritating it is—missing things the way I have been. I feel so useless. So...normal." She shudders theatrically at the last word.

"Being normal? Ugh." Bella sighs and makes a face. I laugh because she always makes the face.

Alice's expression slides into something else—thoughtful, sharp. "Now, if only I could figure out what I'm not seeing in Seattle," she mutters.

Something in the room clicks like a latch. I see it in Bella's face before she even speaks—the way relief floods a person who's been circling the edge of an answer and finally finds a foothold.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Alice asks. Bella still doesn't move, so Alice lifts the lid herself and pulls out the outfit: a dark blue sweater and a skirt. Alice holds it up, clearly pleased. "Pretty, don't you think? I picked blue—Edward likes blue on you."

But Bella isn't looking at the clothes. Her fingers drop back into the box and the sweater flutters like a flag. "No, Alice. Forget the clothes—listen."

Alice freezes. For once she is the one caught off guard.

"Listen, Alice, don't you see? It's the same!" Bella's voice trembles with the electric thrill of the realization. "The one who broke in and stole my things—and the newborns in Seattle—they're connected. Remember what Edward said? About someone using the holes in your vision to keep you from seeing the newborns? And the way my thief was careful—no contact, no trace, like he knew what to avoid. He only stole things with my scent on them so others could find me."

Alice's face goes still for a long breath, so long I start counting in my head—one, two—then she refocuses. The hollow in her voice when she speaks makes my skin prickle. "You're right," she says. "Of course you're right. When you put it that way..."