Twilight 1. Swim

Swimming in Discomfort

To her right, sunbathed a middle-aged woman; her skin was browned and wrinkled, with age spots covering her face. To her other side were two young children and their father; they had been back and forth from the pool to their toys. The father effectively ignored their antics and played games on his laptop. Groupings of families sat across the azure water, all enjoying the sun after so many grey days. The sun was gleaming in the sky and radiating a scorching heat. Hair was stuck to her forehead and sweat was dripping down into her eyes and trickling between her shoulder blades, but even so Bella was not removing her cover-up to reveal the swim suit underneath. The dress would stay on though the water looked temptingly cool on the hot day. Her brother was enjoying the pool, having the time of his life, and she was reading a favorite book, _American Gods_, for the millionth time.

There were exactly twenty-two steps to the edge of the water; plenty of time for people to judge her as she went. She felt that they would all be looking at her. Look at those pale legs, the fat on her stomach and sides, one hip that stuck out farther than the other. So many things were wrong about her. No, she decided staying covered up was best, her book was so much more interesting than any possible amount of fun she would have in the pool. Logically, she knew the strangers around the watering hole were not at all concerned about some random girl, but the fear and anxiety were welling up in her as it always did in these public situations.

"Will you please get in already," whined her brother. He had been pestering her all afternoon. It was her job to babysit while their dad and his new wife went out to enjoy the town they were staying in and their other new brother took advantage of the beautiful beach. He was bored that there were no other teenagers there that were either of their ages.

"Not right now," she replied, "maybe later." He rolled his eyes and stalked off. She did plan on getting in; once she had worked up the courage. Courage, which had thus far refused to show up here at the pool. She knew she needed to get up now and take those twenty-two steps to the edge, because if it did not happen now it never would; but she couldn't. She wished she could be like the heroine in _American Gods_, a heroine never would have been afraid to get up and strut across the pavement and into that pool, a heroine never would have given it a second thought. A shadow loomed over her as she laid reading. Her brother soaking wet and grinning mischievously from ear to ear

"No," she yelled, as he starting shaking his head spraying water all over. She tried to cover both her book up and her hair at the same time, but it was too late. The pages of her book were sprinkled with water and so was she. And now people were staring at the spectacle that they were making. The cute boy across the pool was laughing, the children playing next to her chair were giggling at getting wet too. She blushed in embarrassment and her brother ran away hooting and hollering, belly slamming into the pool. She looked away from where he was wading and making silly faces at her, and into the disapproving eyes of the overly tan woman sitting next to her. She glanced back at her book; the pages were already crinkling from being wet.

She sat back and remembered last fall as her best friend Alice sat her down and finally told her why she did not want to hang out with their friends from the previous year. She had finally told her what all of her friends had been saying behind her back. At first she did not believe Alice, but then she looked at the seriousness in her friend's face and the monotonous tone her friend's voice had taken on and knew she was not lying. At first she had been angry but Bella couldn't stay angry forever and in the end she was just hurt by all that nasty remarks they had made about her. All of the times they had been conspiring together but stopped whenever she walked in, but Rosalie hadn't thought anything of it then. Lauren and Jessica had talked so much about how much weight she had gained, that everyone on the dorm floor knew. Rude comments about how horrible her stomach looked in her bathing suit. There were so many times when she had asked them how she looked, and to be honest with her, and they had lied. She wondered if they had enjoyed the look of relief she had gotten on her face when they approved of her looks. These comments followed her here on this trip, riding piggy back on her subconscious. And as she remembered the tears welling up in her eyes as they were now, Bella was glad for her sunglasses that hide her tears as they stung at her eye. She blinked quickly before they could fall down her cheeks. She hated crying in general and especially hated that it was occurring in public over some stupid girls, but it didn't matter how stupid they were because all of the insults hurt. The confidence that had built up after a socially successful freshman year of college waned into a depressive sophomore year full of disappointments. And now she was on vacation, supposed to be enjoying herself and relaxing, but instead was worrying herself over the opinion of unimportant people. Bella tried to focus on the heat and the sounds around her to help relax herself and enjoy the vacation to Florida her dad had thoughtfully planned out. Although this was a great vacation, she just wanted to be home, surrounded by her books and busy with work. She had missed her friends.

The sun was beginning to beat down even harder as noon came and went, the pool was looking more and more tempting but still she sat fanning herself. She tried to breathe deeply and relax slowing her mind, like her counselor always told her. 'Be calm keep your mind blank,' she would always say in her perpetually happy and optimistic voice, 'Remember, everyone else is just as concerned about their body as you are. Keep a positive thought process.' Deep breathes they are not concerned with you at all. She looked around at the people surrounding the pool; the family next to her had left and was replaced by a much older couple. She looked at all the faces around the pool, all of them beautiful and ugly at the same time. Some were old, some were her age, others were teeny tiny. There were lines and scars, wrinkles and pudgy cheeks. All of these flaws belonged to people that she would never see again, people who would never remember her face, because she would never remember theirs.

She walked slowly to the edge of the pool, watching all of their faces the entire time. Not a single eye turned her way, no lips curled up in amusement. After those twenty-two steps to the edge, she just stood there contemplating the next course of action. She sat down, pulling her dress up away from the water, but dangled her feet in. Her brother came to the edge to tease her about being a 'stupid scaredy cat'. She swung her feet out and splashed him full in the face with water, his mouth catching most of it. Soon their other sibling came to join in the fun, having been worn out at the beach full of screaming children. All three tried to convince her to get in, but she assured them she was perfectly fine sitting at the edge with her feet dangling in.

The two newly made brothers huddled at the other side of the pool, whispering together. As they conspired, Bella relaxed and enjoyed the feel of the cool water on her legs. When she looked back up only one of the boys in front of her, the other had disappeared. The Jasper grabbed her feet and then she felt Emmett's capable hands pushing at her back. It took all three of her brothers and sister to drag and push and pull her into the pool, but eventually they got her in. Her dress was soaked, her glasses had sunk to the bottom, but she was finally in. The cool water felt good on her sun burnt shoulders as she swam laps with her brother and dunked her sister. She was finally in the pool, and when the day ended and it was time to leave, she acted like a petulant child. Her excuse was it had taken her all day to get in.

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	2. Dirt, part 1

Dirt

Rosalie loved the smell of her father's garage. The cold metallic tang mixed with a dusty and greasy scent. The air tank was rumbling in the background beneath the crooning of Arctic Monkey's lead singer. There was grease underneath her fingernails again; she had most likely scrapped all of the paint off her fingernails. Her mother was not going to be happy; she was supposed to maintain this manicure. Her grease covered hands fumbled with a bolt and a wrench as she tried to secure the fuel line into its bracket. Putting in a new fuel line was proving to be more difficult than she had thought; she definitely needed a second hand. Her frustration grew as she heard her music go off and then the click-clack of her mother's pristine heels on the concrete floor. She rolled out from underneath her car and pulled a rag out of the back of her jeans to wipe her dirty hands off.

"Darling, must you really be out here getting all dirty," pestered her mother. "This is not ladylike at all. Her mother's gazed lowered to her hands, and as she caught sight of the destroyed nails she tsked but left it at that; thankfully.

"Mother, please, I'm enjoying myself," she replied, "Just go away."

"That is not an acceptable way to talk to your mother," boomed her new stepfather's voice. She rolled her eyes as he tried to reprimand her; he was not her father. His tall figure pushed its way into the garage to stand next to the recently and now newly married woman.

"Maybe we should ground you, and then you will learn to be more respectful, little girl," he continued. He stepped even closer to her, and as he did she instinctively stepped farther away from his menacing figure. Rosalie could feel the color drain from her face, giving away her fear. She had been avoiding the house as much as possible since he moved in, but her mother had refused permission for this recent sleep over.

"Now, now, honey, don't get so worked up," her mother addressed her new husband, turning to splay her perfectly manicured fingers against his chest, "let's leave her alone to play tomboy. We need to pack for our honey moon." Her mother voice started dripping seduction towards the end of that sentence. It was disgusting. She grabbed his hand and started pulling him back towards the house; he turned back long enough to sneer at Rosalie before trailing behind his new wife. Rosalie was sickened when she saw him smack her mother's ass followed by her mother giggle. She couldn't wait for them to leave on their belated honeymoon. She would be left alone to do as she pleased, with occasional checkups from her aunt Esme. Her relationship with her mother had never been decent and had not gotten any better since her father died; her father had been much more excepting of her tomboy ways. Her mother had wanted a perfect and pristine debutante not a girl covered in grease with a wrench and a shop rag in the back pocket of her baggy jeans.

She crawled back underneath her car to continue her work. Her mind slipped back towards her new stepfather and his threats. Royce was practically a gold digger; her mother had started dating him when her father was on his death bed fighting for his life. She couldn't forgive her mother for cheating on her dad and now she had married the creep. He was always staring at her, and would touch her when her mother wasn't around; the touches had stopped just being on her arm and had moved to her thighs. He always found a way to corner her, and she had tried to tell her mother but she had been too preoccupied with her wedding and honeymoon planning. Her frustration grew as she stripped out yet another bolt; she threw it out from underneath the car, and dug into the bag for another bolt. She felt for it but couldn't find one. She turned her body as far as she could to see. One last bolt sitting in the corner of the bag, she grabbed it and pushed the line back into place. Last time he cornered her, his hand had started to move up her and underneath her shirt, his hand was over her mouth and his body pressed against hers, thankfully her mother had just arrived from her spa trip and he had to back off. Tears were welling in her eyes and then her hand slipped on the wrench and punched into the underside of the car. The pain jarred her back into reality; the throbbing was excruciating and her cracked knuckles had started bleeding, again, she really needed gloves.

She strode into the house, and to the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror glared back at her. Shaggy blonde hair hung around her pale face, blue under eye circles marring her pretty face; she looked just like her mother. She wasn't skinny like her mother, she had much more curves than she did, but she tried to wear clothes that fit not the skin tight clothing her mother always tried to put her in. 'You need to show off you figure more, darling.' She loved dressing up when she went to school, loved wearing heels to accentuate her nice calves, but she loved the freedom of dressing down when she was in the garage. She thought she perfectly pulled off being a girly tomboy, her mother didn't agree, the same with the kids at school. Though as the stress of losing her father and her mother remarrying took its toll on her mental state she had stopped changing out of her tomboy clothes for her nicer things, she had stopped shopping with her friends (Tanya, Irina, and Kate) at school, though she couldn't really call them friends. They had begun calling her a dyke and butch, they had even convinced the guys they hung out to follow suit. Tears welled up, but she wasn't going to let them fall, there was no reason to cry over mean, fake people.

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Twilight, Friendship, Hurt-Comfort