Our words for the weather are strong and evocative, no matter the conditions.

Stephenie owns them; you, with your lovely praise and fascinating answers to my odd questions, own me. Thank you.

Bella:
He was talking about ice cream.

I tried to clear my head and make sense of what he was saying, but the enormity of the entire evening was too big.

After we'd unloaded the equipment from Esme's minivan and set up by Aro's grand piano, the group did a mic check and tested the equipment. Alice fluttered around, talking with the hostess about seating and breaks between songs and sets so that the staff could check tables and clear dishes. I helped Rosalie untangle cords and layer the wires properly so there would be no crossover feedback.

When it was close to starting time, I changed in the staff bathroom they let us use. I'd brought the blue dress with a hood that I bought when I'd gone shopping with Alice so many weeks ago; nothing at all like the junior beauty queen gowns Jessica, Angela and Lauren were wearing. I twisted my hair up on my head, wishing I had Alice's help; when I finally got all the pins in place I didn't look like me at all, and one curl would not stay up properly. Then I put on too much eye shadow and couldn't get it off, so I swiped at it with powder and slicked on a lot of mascara, hoping Alice would be too busy to notice me. I tried to put on pantyhose, but I snagged them on a bitten fingernail and ran them, so I threw them in the trash and slid into the little blue flats that matched the dress. I wished I could wear heels without falling ass over teakettle, but it was out of the question. There was no way I could pull off the glamour pageant look, no matter how hard I tried.

I avoided the mirror on the way out.

I walked out to the parking lot, looking for Charlie's cruiser, but he wasn't there yet, so I went to find the table that I'd reserved for my father and me. It took Felix a moment to recognize me.

"Wow," he said, "you clean up nice! But I thought you were with the band."

"With the band. Not in the band," I clarified.

"But wasn't that you, a couple weeks ago, with Ed? On the piano." He led me to a small table on the side of the room with a perfect view of the stage.

"You heard that?"

"Most of it. I had to throw out a bunch of idiots who couldn't hold their booze politely."

"Ah." I wanted to ask if the idiots were in a fraternity, but I kept my mouth shut.

"You should sing," he said, as he pulled my chair out for me. "You're good."

I mumbled my thanks as he left, and watched my friends set up until the waiter brought water and the menu.

My phone buzzed, and I grabbed my iPhone from the little purse that didn't match my shoes.

She doesn't want me. –Debussy_88

My stomach turned over. I typed: Did you ask?

He wrote back: She turned me down. She's waiting for someone else. –Debussy_88

I felt awful for him, this intimate stranger in the ether. He'd written such lovely words about his feelings for the girl. I could not understand how she could be unaffected by him.

I asked: Did you tell her?

Tell her what? That I'm a jealous ass who can't stand the thought of her with anyone else? That I would give up my own name to have her heart? That she's so beautiful sometimes I forget to breathe? –Debussy_88

Yes. If only he would tell her, I thought. Surely she couldn't be cold to him, if she knew.

No. I guess I'm spared that embarrassment, now. –Debussy_88

I swallowed back tears, that he could so callus about his about his feelings, or so depreciating of his lovely words.

Will you be okay?

There was no response. I almost wished I could call him on the phone, to tell him not to quit on her, that I needed him to keep trying. We'd started this awkward journey at love together, and I was afraid that if he gave up, this thing I had with Edward would crumble too, and I wasn't ready for that, yet.

I sucked on some ice, trying to cool my face; I didn't want Charlie to catch me crying for reasons I couldn't explain. I wondered when he would get here; the band was set up and ready to begin. Edward was leaning up against the piano, with his hands in his pockets, staring at me.

When our eyes met, he walked towards me, feet moving awkwardly, like he didn't want to; I wondered what was wrong again.

"You look nice," he said, like he was accusing me of fraud. "The make-up. I mean you look fine without it. Fuck." He looked annoyed. I wanted to go back to the bathroom and wash the stuff off my eyes.

"Thanks?" I said, hoping that covered whatever he was trying to say. Behind him, I saw Felix talking to Charlie, motioning him to our table.

"Where's your date?" asked Edward, and I didn't understand why he would make fun of me like that; but then Charlie saw me, and did a double take, and I grinned at him as he approached us. He'd worn his one tie, done all uptight in a double Windsor, and he looked like he was ready to choke. Edward's face did some strange things, and then he giggled. It pissed me off a little; I thought Dad looked nice, and it wasn't like he would ever take me out on a date. Charlie sat down, and muttered a greeting, and something about thinking I would be singing.

Edward was still laughing. "So did we."

"What?" I asked, completely floored. They'd never said anything about me singing with them. Jasper had had given me duets to learn, but Edward said Jazz was pushing him, not me; and Alice had asked if I would be there, but never mentioned me actually singing with them. She and the blond bass player came up behind Edward, both glaring at me.

Edward was laughing, but his face was bleak.

"But you never asked me!" I protested. I felt cornered. I assumed they'd known I couldn't get up on the stage; I'd probably puke all over the piano. I was just happy they'd let me be a part of their rehearsals.

Jasper shot eye daggers at the back of Edward's head, swore, and stalked off.

Alice fussed at me, big hazel eyes disappointed because she couldn't do her two big harmonica songs, and I felt terrible for letting down my best friend, and Charlie made it worse, something about Chief Black and Jacob driving in, and I knew that the gas money it cost them must have been dreadful.

I looked around the room, wondering if I could do it. There were a lot of people. People I didn't know, and people who would think badly about the band if I messed up. An awful lot of people.

I didn't realize I'd spoken until Charlie sighed with disappointment. Edward said something to Alice, and then crouched down to look up at me. He took my hand, and the skin contact cut through my misery.

"Listen," he said, green eyes intense, though his face was carefully calm, "Why don't you hang out, listen for a while, see how the room feels, and if you're up for it, join us in a few. No pressure, okay?"

I nodded, not wanting to let go of his hand, and tried to say good luck or break a leg or something appropriate, but Jasper had already started, and Edward left to go stand behind the mic.

They were really good. Jasper understood the crowd, and did interesting things with the mood of the songs, bass groove hard when he wanted their attention, relaxing the undercurrent when there was tension. Rosalie and Edward worked together, sometimes in tandem, sometimes call and answer; the mutual respect was obvious.

And even though I should have been acclimated to Edward's voice, I still felt the heated rush in my blood when he sang. The last song of the set was the first one I'd ever heard him sing; I wanted to be with him, touching him, my back against his, feeling it through both of us. He oozed sex and blues and lost boy desire, and I stared at him, feeling his mouth on mine, and maybe he was flirting with every woman in the room, but his eyes always returned to mine.

I wanted to be on that damned piano bench.

I couldn't eat anything, just sipped at an iced tea. It was too sweet, the way that Renee made it, and I thought back to that last night in Arizona, barely over a month ago. I'd left the desert to start new, to come out of my shell and break down the walls I'd built around myself, and I was so close. All I had to do was take the hand of the beautiful boy who was reaching out to me, and I would fly.

The set ended, and I went out to the parking lot and leaned up against Charlie's cruiser, needing to be alone, trying to make sense of my desperation, wishing I could be strong enough to be who I wanted to be. I caught sight of my reflection in the curved glass: a thin face with smoky, made-up dark eyes and hair escaping its French twist; a scared little girl trying to look fancy. I reached up and pulled the pins out of my hair, one by one, dropping them on to the asphalt, watching my hair tumble down curl by curl.

My phone buzzed:

Yes. No. Maybe. She ties me in knots, blows me kisses and vanishes. How are you? -Debussy_88

I didn't know how to answer that. He seemed better, less despondent. At least she was blowing him kisses. I almost typed "fine" just so I wouldn't have to make my feelings concrete, but I hadn't been anything less than honest with him yet, and I wasn't about to start.

I'm incoherent. I want to go to him, to be pretty at his side, and he asked me, and I'm scared.

What are you afraid of? -Debussy_88

The only person who had ever come close to asking me that was Edward; he'd asked me what I saw, when I started to crash. But this wasn't about the eyes and the crowd. I'd sat with them, been one of them; they made me nervous, but they weren't what terrified me.

Whether I fly or fail, I will never be the same person that I am now.

You will always be Extraordinary. -Debussy_88

In the reflection of the car window, with my hair big from the curls and the heavy make-up, I looked like a rock star. Maybe the only difference between the ordinary girls and the pretty ones was the ability to find what they needed in the in the mirror.

I want to be.

I knew that at some point I would have to take the last step to see if I could really do it. I just wasn't ready for it to be right now. I'd barely gotten settled in this new place, and this craziness with Edward was too raw, and I hadn't practiced enough, and-

Dare you. -Debussy_88

The epiphany struck like a slap in the face: the only way I would truly fail is if I never even tried, and I might not get another chance.

I gathered my courage and left the hairpins, hoping if I was fast enough my fear wouldn't catch up to me. I texted Alice:

I can't go on stage in this dress.

The response was immediate:

Bathrm. Now. Ill bring wireless mic.

I ran.

The little girl who had been assisting the hostess was in the staff bathroom. She looked like she was about eight years old, in a black dress with a bow in the back, picking at a blister on her toe.

"I really wanted to have heels, but I don't think I like them," she said, bypassing introductions.

"So don't wear them," I offered.

Alice crashed through the door, a petite hurricane of canary silk gauze. She introduced me to Aro's daughter Jane, grabbed my bag and clicked her tongue at the contents, handed me my jeans, strapped my mic on my ear and wedged the pack onto my front pocket, stuck a band-aid on the little girl's toe, made six spiral slashes to my dress with the nail scissors so it twisted over my hips in a twenties style cascade, approved my eye make-up and shoved me out the door. Jane came with us, eyes and mouth wide open.

I sat on the piano bench, with my back to the crowd, and the little girl climbed up next to me.

"I'm going to marry Edward," she told me.

"He's a pretty good kisser," I said.

"Yuck!" she said.

Alice slung on her guitar, plugged in, and tested with the volume low. The audience started to settle down.

"I've never seen my brother so alive, not since- not for years. Five years." She spoke quickly, her light voice low. "But he's also being an idiot, and Jasper says I have to keep out of it, and leave you two alone, but it's been really hard, because I've missed you. Now sing."

She picked the opening notes to 'In a Cold, Cold Night,' and I sang to Jane, grinning at her delight, ignoring the audience. This was just three girls enjoying music, no-one else had to be involved. The rest of the group filed in, and I was so aware of Edward my skin was screaming, but I didn't look at him, afraid I would lose my place in the song. As we finished, he picked up Jane and sat her on top of the piano and slid in behind me on the bench, opening up one of the songs we worked on last week, and I leaned into his back. The electric current between us grounded me in some fashion, stripped me of my jangled nerves or perhaps aligned them properly, and singing up there with him was as natural and easy as breathing.

During the solo bridges of 'Low Spark' I peeked over his shoulder, to see if I could spot Charlie, and he was there, sitting with the Blacks, and they were all into the song, and I'd never seen that expression on my Dad's face before. He looked smug. I saw Mrs. Goff, the crew from school, and I thought I recognized the woman from the yarn shop. James gave me a big thumbs up, and even Felix grinned at me.

The set passed in a blur of harmony, and I only had a dash of nerves when Edward left me alone on the bench to sing Fever at the standing mic. He vamped it, singing to Jane, which made her giggle, and to Mrs. Goff, which made the Forks crowd go nuts. We ended with Scarlett Pomers' version of 'The Chain,' a strong song with a little cameo for everyone, and the place exploded.

Edward pulled me up to wave at the crowd, and I felt drunk on their approval, and my father's eyes were proud, but there was still an awful lot of people, and then we were outside, with his hand over my heart and mine on his, and his eyes were evergreen and onyx in the dark and he was kissing my forehead and my mouth. This was more than just lust; it was so much bigger, and he had to know it, and to feel it too, and I was higher than I'd ever felt in my life, I'd just broken free of the shackles that held me earthbound, and I was flying, and he was talking about ice cream.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, bewildered.

"Nothing. Never mind."

"You want to take me out for ice cream?"

"It doesn't matter, Bella. Let it go!" He moved away, and turned his back to me, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The euphoria ebbed from my body, leaving me drained. I slid to the ground and leaned back against the brick of the building, wrapping my arms around my knees.

"Edward?" I whispered.

"Yeah," he said.

"Truce?" I begged.

"What?"

"We have to go back in there. And I can't face them without you." I sounded pathetic; I was shivering, and about to cry. I felt ridiculous. I was sitting in a puddle of my own misery in a spot where I had put my fist in someone's face two weeks ago, I'd just conquered my biggest fear by singing in front of 200 people, stone sober, and I couldn't figure out how to talk to this boy.

"Bella, I'm not mad," he said, not turning around. "I just wanted to do things right, and you're supposed to begin with going out for ice cream or coffee or some shit like that, but I guess we're past all that, anyway, so whatever, yeah. Truce. I'm sorry I was a dick. We should go in. I'll be nice." His voice was wooden and strange.

My heart started to pound again, and I was almost dizzy. I tried to think.

"Edward Cullen. Were you asking me out on a date?"

"Yeah," he said. "But whatever. It doesn't matter, you said no. That's cool."

"But that's not fair! I didn't even realize what you were asking!" My stomach twisted into knots, and my teeth started to chatter. "You don't date. It's against the rules."

"Fuck the rules. I've broken them all anyway." He turned back to me, peeled my hands from around my knees and pulled me to my feet. "You're freezing."

My heart felt strange, and my eyes were still full of tears.

"What is wrong with me?" I asked.

"Stage rush. It's the adrenaline. Come here."

He pulled me close against his chest, and wrapped the lapels of his jacket around me. He was warm and I inhaled the wonderful smell of him, soap and cinnamon and boy-smell and leather, and the tears spilled over, and I was still shaking, but it was okay, now, because he was holding me.

"How do you make it stop?"

"You can't. You have to ride it out." His breath was warm, too, and I wrapped my arms around him, and his hands were in my hair. "Getting drunk or high makes it easier to come down, that's probably why so many performers become so fucked up."

"What do you do?" I asked.

"Well-" he smiled down at me, pressed me back against the wall and licked my neck from the corner of my ear to my collarbone. I shook, but not from cold.

"Ah," I said, "That's probably healthier."

The crazy endorphins running through my body suddenly aligned, surging through my bloodstream, shocking my skin awake.

I pulled him to me and licked him the same as he had done me, across the heat of his throat, tasting the slight salt on his skin, and up to his ear. He inhaled, sharp and short, and pulled my knee up, lifting me to fit against his groin and pushing, and I squirmed, laughing, and ground against the steel in his jeans.

"Fuck," he whispered. "If you were in a skirt, I'd be inside you right now."

I whimpered and buried my face into his neck.

The door opened, and light spilled into the parking lot. Edward stepped away from me as Alice found us in the shadows.

"Cool it, guys, before the Chief decides she can't spend the night anymore."

"We were just talking, twin."

"Well, it's about fucking time."

Edward looked down at me. His eyes were dark, and his mouth was searching for words, and I smiled, trying to catch my breath.

"I like strawberry. With chocolate sprinkles. In a waffle cone." I said, as Alice pulled me towards the door.

"Yeah?" he said, head tilted sideways, crookedy smile and hot boy grin.

"I like coffee," I said over my shoulder, walking into the club.

"Okay," he said, voice warm with a smile.

"Oh," I poked my head back out of the doorway, "and I like you." Alice groaned and grabbed me by my hood and dragged me inside.

His laughter followed me in.

Edward:
I stood there, against the brick, trying to catch my breath, laughing. The woman made me insane. I'd been in agony, trying to ask her out, wondering how to tell her I was crazy for her, wishing I could make everything right, heartsick when I thought she didn't want to, and she just said "I like you," fixing everything. Because that was where you were really supposed to start, simple and honest, no artifice or affectations, no big declarations or drama.

And so I had this big goofy-assed grin on my face so hard my cheeks hurt, feeling like I was back in kindergarten, just because this maddening little girl said she liked me.

The door banged open. Jasper stared at me.

"Dude," he said, "did you just jizz in your pants?"

"She likes me."

"No shit. Help me carry the amps to the van, you lazy-assed mother fucker."

I kept away from Bella the rest of the evening, and she bounced around with Alice, charming Aro and laughing with her new fans. Charlie let her stay the night with twin to celebrate, and Dad had a bottle of champagne already waiting at home. It was our biggest gig yet, and we actually made a healthy chunk of money. We set half aside to go into a savings account for the band, and split the rest between the six of us. Bella didn't want to take the money, but I threatened to donate it to the Forks High prom committee, and she relented.

We drank champagne and laughed until I couldn't take it anymore and carried Bella off to my room, and I kept her there through the night and most of the next day.

Sunday evening my phone rang with an alert. Ordinary_Girl had written:

Icarus.

He wraps me in velvet
And gossamer kisses,
Giving me wings,
To soar to the sun.
I would touch his face
With butterfly lips
And expose my soul,
Bare to his eyes.
But the three little words
Are too vast and too heavy,
When all I want
Is to fly in his arms.

I wrote: Your phrases are airborne; are you feeling extraordinary?

He grounds me so that I may fly. Do you rise from your ashes? –Ordinary_Girl

The spark still burns; she might be mine.

On Monday, we left a little early to stop at the post office to pick up the mail from our P.O. Box, and Alice came tearing back out, waving an oversized manila envelope. I grinned at Jasper in the rearview. We could finally talk about the festival, and plan our set. There was an unspoken rule about jinxing things while the application was out.

She tore it open, and rifled through the forms.

"When's our trial?" I asked.

"Looks like Friday at eight-thirty."

"Excellent," said Jasper. "That puts us on after dinner but before everyone is tired. How many bands?"

"Forty-three."

"That's more than last time. How many get a set?" I asked. We'd placed pretty well last year, and gotten an early evening slot, as part of the opening act for the finals.

"There are twelve spots, starting at noon."

"And the finals?" asked Jazz.

"Four half-hour sets." Alice leafed through the pages. "Huh."

"What?" I asked.

"Did James leave the Quileute Wolves?"

"I think so, why?"

"He's down separately, on Friday. I wonder who he is singing with."

I pulled up outside of Bella's house, saying nothing, wishing I had something ugly handy to put my fist into.

"No fucking way!" Jasper was looking at me, wide-eyed in the rear-view, guessing the truth.

"Bella made a demo with James?" Alice gasped.

"Yeah." My fingers were cramping on the steering wheel.

"Oh, no! Edward, I might have done something bad…" she whispered.

"You didn't!" I turned to look at her, my stomach knotting up. She was pale, her eyes huge, staring back at me. Then she gasped, seeing into me the way only she could.

"You did, too!" she accused.

Bella came out and locked the door behind her, and I got out to open the car door. She didn't look at me or speak as she got in.

As we took off towards school, she unzipped her backpack and flung three manila envelopes on the dash.

"Could someone please explain what the Olympic Delta Blues Festival is?" she asked, her voice ice cold.

What are you afraid of?