Italian Ice

This chapter has been revised as of 2/24/2012

Summary: After leaving Forks for an Italian boarding school, Bella returns for her senior year of High School. But things get complicated. Fast. Alec/Bella.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Saga, or any characters I may use. Everything belongs to the lovely Stephenie Meyer.

A/N: All translations for the Italian language used in this piece can be found at the top and bottom of each chapter. Please note that I am using an online translator for these translations, and I cannot speak this language. If you spot an error in my translations, feel free to tell me so I can fix it, and make this story the best it can possibly be.

Al diavolo questo! :: To hell with this!

Papà, calmati. :: Dad, calm down.


I sit on the curb, silent, next to Angela. Her mother was always late for everything, it was just how she was. We were both quiet, continually checking my watch. We didn't want to be late for our movie. At this rate, it seemed we'd be lucky if we made it for the credits.

We're very quiet, not wanting to attract the notice of Edward Cullen, and Jessica Stanley, who are waiting a bit away, chatting animatedly. Jessica is giggling and blushing, could she make it anymore obvious? Even I, with no knowledge of romantic endeavors, know she's totally into him. Angela fixates on some point in the distance, and we stand up, thinking we see her mothers mini-van. But the vehicle drives right on past the school's driveway, and we sit down disappointed. As Angela sit down though, her noisy clogs hitting the pavement tickle Jessica's ears, and she and Edward look up. She whispers something; after I see her eyes wander to the wallet hanging out of Angela's book bag.

I look at Angela, and she's noticed what's about to happen too. But Jessica and Edward have already begun approaching us.

"Got any spare change?" Edward says crassly, holding out a calloused hand.

"No, we don't." Angela answers a little too quickly, and Jessica narrows her eyes at her menacingly.

"What's that?" Jessica spits, reaching out a hand, landing it possesively on the white wallet.

"Don't!" Angela cries, slapping away Jessica's hand shyly, but angrily.

"Back off." I whisper, picking up the only defensive object available, my math textbook.

"Yeah. Like you'd actually do that," Edward says cooly. "Don't want to break any rules, right?" He snatches the book from hands, and hits Angela with the edge of it in the stomach.

Angela drops her wallet with a painful oof, falling down,and Jessica picks up the wallet.

"And you're not telling that retard twin of yours, Emmett, a thing." Edward says, as Jessica plucks thirty dollars almost daintily, as if it were the ladylike thing to do, from the wallet.

Edward takes a pocketknife from his pocket quickly. "Just to make sure." He cackles, and he slashes me across the cheek then, and the two run off quickly in their sneakers. I cry out in pain, falling down and cradling my cheek, blood staining my hands. I smell the coppery scent and almost throw up.

Several minutes later, Angela's mother finally arrives in that damned minivan. When she sees my face, Angela trying to stop the blood flow with a book cover, she gasps, hand against her heart, awestruck.

"This is crazy!" Charlie says, slamming his fist against the table, later that night. A nurse at the hospital had bandaged my cheek, but I wouldn't talk about who did it. "Stealing lunch money, Angela's broken glasses, but this, this is enough!" Charlie continues in his fit of rage, and Emmett watches quietly, head held high. He doesn't know a thing about it, even though it's his best friends who are doing it.

"Al diavolo questo!" He yells slipping into Italian angrily, banging his fist against the table violently, and I shudder.

"Papà, calmati." I say, quietly, resorting to Italian. Charlie's family was Italian, and Emmett, Charlie and I had all grown up speaking it. One of the first things that brought people's attention to me in school was my accent.

"Bella, this is enough. I know you hate it too." Charlie says, his voice slipping down a couple decibels, as he moves over to grip my shoulders sadly.

I nod, silent, wanting to know what he was getting at, having no idea myself. I hope this isn't something crazy.

"I'll send you to the school in Volterra. The one I went too." Charlie decides after a moments pause. I open my mouth in obvious shock, unsure if I'm pleased with this new development, because boarding school was something I always dream of as a kid or totally scared, because boarding school meant richer, smarter, more resourceful kids. But it also means a new start...

The next week, over breakfast, Charlie tells us that I've been admitted. He tells me over and over he can pay the tuition just fine, but I'm not entirely sure. I don't think you can always make a lot as chief of police, especially in a tiny town like Forks.

I can go at the start of next term, eleven weeks to go. Charlie's already booked plane tickets, and I can't wait.

In the hall ways, Emmett grips my shoulder and whispers "Stay safe, okay?" Before lumbering of toward the special education classrooms. Angela comes up to me, and begs to know what's happening now. "You've been to quiet, what's your dad decided?" She asks.

I explain how Charlie has enrolled me in a boarding school. "Where?" she begs to know, shaking my shoulders desperately, her mouth in a perfect little "o."

"Italy." I whisper, quietly so only she can hear, I don't want anyone to hear the news. The last thing I need is an assault from some snotty girl, saying that I can't possibly be attending a boarding school, I'm too much white trashy.

"Oh my god." Angela says, her voice stressing each word seperately. She's in shock, and I don't blame her. I feel a flash of remorse, I'm pretty sure I'm her only friend.

"Don't worry, I'll write." I say, pulling my hair behind my ears as I eye the clock. We have plenty of time.

"You better." She shakes her finger at me, and I laugh. as we walk together to our first class, trying to ignore the glances of our classmates, trying to get a good look at my still battered cheek.

Eleven weeks later, with lots tearful goodbyes—alright, maybe three, being Emmett, Charlie and Angela, I board the plane. I sit down quietly, and an elderly couple sits next to me, who have brought books they immediately open, ignoring the loud speaker. As the plane begins to take off, I dig into my bag, remove a book Charlie had recently bought me, Wuthering Heights, and begin reading, but before I can get into it, I look out the window happily. "Goodbye Forks." I whisper almost inaudibly, at a sound level no human could register. I look back to my book and begin reading, occasionally putting my hand against the bumpy scar.

When I land in Volterra, Italy, its close to ten at night. I've gotten through and out of the airport, when I hear a noise that sounds suspiciously like a body hitting the ground in an alleyway.

I spin around, and see an older man on the ground, stilled in silence. There's a teenage boy there, and in the slight illumination of the street lamp, I can see he's very beautiful. He has dark brown hair, and he's just a little taller than me, maybe fifteen years old, but his mannerisms, they make him seem so much older... He suddenly jerks his head up to stare up at me with startlingly glowing red eyes and I promise myself they're an illumination. The older man's eyes snap open, as he tries to orient himself suddenly. The teenager glides closer to me slowly, and I take a step backwards, nervously gripping on the leather of my suitcases.

I can see him better now. His eyes are definitely a piercing red, and his face is distorted in strange concentration. I promise myself I must be dreaming, and this is just a strange nightmare I'm having because I've never flown in a plane before, and we're still somewhere near France. He suddenly slams his foot against the ground. I hear him say angrily, "Jane, she won't desensitize."

A girl who looks extraordinarily like him, suddenly appears out of the shadows. She closes her eyes when she is next to the other, and opens them angrily a second later. "I can't do anything!" She says, before cursing angrily.

"We'll take it Aro." The boy says decidedly, taking a step closer to me. My hands start to sweat, and I almost faint, seeing the deadly look in their eyes.

"That would be an excellent idea," Says the girl, as she advances too.

Al diavolo questo! :: To hell with this!

Papà, calmati. :: Dad, calm down.