Chapter 10: Greenhouse Ghosts
"It's easier to play the part when you know the script. Harder when the audience starts asking questions."
Tuesday.
Forks High smelled like damp carpet and paperbacks. The heaters hissed. My boots squelched faintly against the hallway tiles.
Business as usual.
Except for the tension that kept pressing between my shoulder blades.
"Are you worried about a pop quiz?" Angela asked as we walked to first period.
"No," I said. "Just that creeping sense that reality might decide to improvise."
She blinked at me. I waved it off with a smile.
The day passed in a blur of the same sounds, faces and angst.
Between classes, I caught a flicker of something wrong.
Alice Cullen stood at her locker, twisting a ring around her finger. I passed her without pausing, but her head snapped toward me.
Not just a glance. A double take.
Our eyes met. Her lips parted.
I walked faster.
No interaction. Not yet. But it was a crack in the veneer.
Canon is still mostly holding, I reminded myself.
For now.
Lunch.
Edward Cullen was back again at his usual table. Emmett nudged him and said something I couldn't hear. He didn't respond. His gaze cut across the room and landed on me for a beat too long.
I bit into my sandwich like it owed me money and turned back to Angela's story about Ben getting stuck on his roof trying to retrieve a frisbee.
In Biology Mr. Banner announced the greenhouse trip just after the bell rang.
"End of the week. Bio 2 will be traveling to Port Angeles' local greenhouse. Plants, pH levels, soil acidity, and the glory of moist air. Permission slips go home today. Bring them back, or you'll be stuck with a packet instead."
Mike fist-pumped in the back. "Field trip!"
Jessica groaned. "I swear to God, if it smells like dirt, I'm not getting off the bus."
Angela elbowed me. "Riding with us? Ben's mom is driving a bunch of us."
I nodded. "Sure. If no one objects to me commandeering the aux cord."
"Only if you don't play sad girl indie playlists," Eric said.
"No promises," I replied.
I was tempted to ditch last period but held strong and pushed through the rest of my day.
Evening.
I got home before Charlie and turned on the radio while throwing together a quick stir fry. The smell of garlic and soy sauce filled the kitchen by the time his cruiser pulled up.
Charlie stepped inside, shaking off rain like a golden retriever. "That smells great, Bells."
"Cheap and cheerful. Like me," I deadpanned.
He chuckled and set down his keys. "Got a call from the tire shop. I'm gonna get the truck fitted with new treads tomorrow morning. I should be back before you have to head to school."
I raised an eyebrow. "Planning to go off-roading, Chief?"
"Storm front's rolling in. Forecast says we might get black ice before the weekend."
I nodded. My grip on the spatula tightened just slightly.
Canon was still holding. But just barely.
Over dinner, we talked about his day at the station. I told him about the greenhouse trip, leaving out all mention of lingering vampire stares or the way Alice Cullen seemed to see too much.
He offered me a second helping and grumbled good-naturedly about teenage boys who thought donuts were a food group. I told him he was just mad because he had to give up sugar after his last physical.
"Don't remind me," he said, mock-glaring. "I miss pie."
"We all miss things, Dad."
Dream-walk
It was quiet tonight.
Not heavy or haunted. Just quiet.
Damon sat beside a small fire in the middle of nowhere. The stars above were brilliant. The land stretched wide and wild, touched only by wind and memory.
He looked up as I stepped into the dream.
No startle. No confusion.
Just a wry smile.
"Took you long enough," he said.
"I had stir fry to make."
He made room for me on the blanket. "And here I thought you were rationing your appearances to keep me intrigued."
I sat beside him, pulling my knees to my chest. "Admit it. It's working."
He gave a soft laugh, then looked at me with a curiosity I hadn't seen before.
"You always ask about me," he said. "But I never ask about you."
"That's usually how dream haunts work."
"Maybe. But you don't feel like a ghost."
He reached toward the fire, letting flames lick close to his fingers without fear. Then he turned back to me.
"Tell me something real. Something you don't tell anyone."
I hesitated.
Then: "When I was ten, I set the toaster on fire trying to make waffles. Charlie bought a fire extinguisher the next day. He still keeps it under the sink."
Damon grinned. "Arson. I knew I liked you."
"It was accidental arson."
"That's the best kind."
We sat in companionable silence for a while. Then he asked:
"Are you happy?"
I blinked. "That's a big question."
"That's a dodge."
I exhaled slowly, watching the fire.
"I think I'm trying to be."
He didn't push further. Just nodded, as if that answer was enough.
The dream started to blur around the edges.
He turned toward me, expression unreadable.
"Bring another story next time," he said. "Make it embarrassing."
"You first."
His grin widened. "Deal."
The stars bent sideways. The fire blew out.
And I woke up.