Rosalie Hale has a genius I.Q. and has been laid by at least six different guys. She told me herself, the last time she was visiting her cousin, Alice, who is my good friend. Alice says this is because of Rosalie's attitude problem and her need to feel loved the getting laid part that is. The genius I.Q. Is just luck or genes or something. I'm not sure that either explanation is 100 percent right but generally Alice is very good at analyzing people.
I don't know Rosalie that well since she lives in Summit and we live in Westfield. Alice and I decided to go to her New Year's party at the last minute for to reasons: one, because that's when she invited us and two we had nothing better to do.
It turned out to be a fondue party. There were maybe twenty of us sitting on the floor around a low table in Rosalie's family room. On the table were a couple of big pots of steaming liquid Swiss cheese and baskets of bread chunks. Each of us had a long two-pronged fork, to spear the bread, then dip it into the cheese. It tasted pretty good. I had gotten about two bites when this guy said, " You've got some on your chin."
He was on Alice's other side, sort of leaning across her, " You want me to wipe it off?" He held out his napkin. I couldn't tell if he was putting me on or what. So I told him, " I can wipe my own chin," and I tried to swallow the bread that was still in my mouth.
" I'm Edward Cullen," he said. " So?" I said, as Alice shot me a look. She introduced herself to Edward, then tapped me on the head and said "This is my idiot friend, Isabella, but she likes to be called Bella. Don't mind her... she's a little strange." " I noticed," Edward said. He had green-emerald eyes, had a lot of reddish-brown hair and he was...cute. For some crazy reason I wanted to touch his hair.
I looked away and went back to spearing chunks of bread. The guy on my other side said, "My name's Mike. I live next door to Rosalie. I'm a freshman at Dartmouth." Unfortunately he was also a creep.
After a while I turned him out but he didn't know and kept blabbing away. I was more interested in what Edward was saying to Alice.
I wondered where he went to school and hoped it was some place close, like Rutgers. Alice told him that we're from Westfield, that we're seniors, and that we're spending the night at Rosalie's. Then Edward introduced her to somebody named Tanya and I turned around in time to see him put his arm around this pale strawberry-blond girl sitting next to him. I pretended to be interested in Mike the Creep after all.
At midnight Rosalie flashed the lights on and off and Mike wished me a Happy New Year, then tried to stuff is tongue in my mouth. I kept my lips shut tight; while he was kissing me I was watching Edward kiss Tanya. He was so much taller than I first thought and thin, but not skinny.
After the party we helped Rosalie and her parents clean up and somewhere around 3:00 a.m. We trudged upstairs to bed. Rosalie conked out as soon as her head hit the pillow but Alice and I had trouble getting to sleep, maybe because we were on the floor in sleeping bags, or maybe because Rosalie was snoring so loud.
Alice whispered, " Edward's a nice guy. . . don't you think so?" " He's much to tall for you," I told her. "You'd only come up to his belly button." "He might enjoy that." " Oh, Alice!" She propped herself up on an elbow and said, " You like him, don't you?" "Don't be silly. . . we barely met." I rolled over, facing the wall. " Yeah. . . but I can tell anyway." "Go to sleep!" " He asked me for your last name and your phone number." I turned around. " He did?" " Uh huh. . . but I guess you don't care about that." She buried herself inside her sleeping bag. I gave her a half-hearted kick. Then we both laughed and fell asleep.
Alice and I have been friends since the ninth grade. We're a good pair because she is outspoken and uninhibited and I'm not. She says she has to be that way to compensate her size. She's just four-feet-ten so when I said that she would come up to Edward's belly button I wasn't kidding. Everyone in her family is tiny. That's how her great-grandfather got their last name. He came to this country from Russia, not speaking a word of English. So when he stepped off the boat and the man in charge asked him his name, he didn't understand. Instead of just calling him Cohen or Goldberg, the way the immigration officers did with so many Jewish refugees, this man sized him up and wrote down Mr. Small.
Alice swears if she ever marries she will choose someone huge so that if they decide to have children the kids will at least have a chance to grow to normal size. Not that being little has hurt anyone in her family. Her mother is Juliette Small, the film critic. You can read her reviews in three national magazines. Because of her Alice is positive she's going to get into Radcliffe, even though her grades aren't that hot. I have a 92 average so I almost died when I saw my college board scores. They were below average.
Alice scored higher than I did. She doesn't fall apart over really important things and I'm afraid I might. That's another difference between us.
The phone rang at noon the next day and woke me. Rosalie jumped up and ran to answer it. When she came back she said, " That was Edward Cullen. He's coming over to get his records." She yawned and flopped back on her bed. Alice was still out cold. I asked Rosalie, " Does he go with that girl, Tanya?" "No that I know of. . .why, are you interested?" " No. . .just curious." ". . . because I could drop a hint if you want me to. . ." " No. . .don't "I've known him since kindergarten." " He's in your class?" "My homeroom." "Oh. . .I thought he was older." "He's a senior. . .same as us." "Oh. . ." He seemed older.
"Well. . .as long as I'm awake I might as well get dressed," I said, heading for the bathroom. Rosalie and I were in the kitchen when the bell rang. I was picking raisins out of a breakfast bun, piling them in the corner of my plate. Rosalie leaned against the refigerator, spooning strawberry yogurt out of the carton. She answered the front door and showed Edward into the kitchen. " You remember Bella, don't you?" she asked him. "Sure. . .hi. . ." Edward said.
"Oh. . . hi," I said back. " Your records are still downstairs," Rosalie told him. " I'll get them for you." "That's okay," Edward said. "I'll get them myself."A few seconds later he called, "Who's B.S.?" "Me," I answered. "Some of those albums are mine." I went downstairs and started going through the pile. "Are yours marked?" "No." I was making a stack of B.S. When he said, "Look. . ." and grabbed my wrist. "I came over here because I wanted to see you again." "Oh, well. . ." I said, blushing.
" Is that all you can say?" "What am I supposed to say?" "Do I have to write a script?" "Okay. . .I'm glad you came over." He smiled. " That's better. How about a ride? My car's out front." "My father's coming to pick me up at 3:00. I have to be back by then." "That's okay." He was still holding my wrist.
What is going to happen next? Okay please do this after I finish this story I will probably do Edward's POV. I will need helpers to help me with this story. 10 people can help. If you want to help send me a message. Remember the first 10 people. When I pick then I will tell you what's happening. Thank You. And REVIEW!