Nightfall, a Twilight parody - Part 8: Let's Go To The Mall

The one where Bella proves she's a masochist, and Edward creeps me out. A lot.

Unnecesary whining: 23.

Bad foreshadowing: 5.

General bitchiness: 8.

Mary Sue tendencies: 7.

Mineral eyes: 2.

Velvet voice of doom: 2.

I do not think it means what you think it means: 4.

Do I dazzle you?: 4.

Chagrin: 2.

Murmur:  3.

Jessica drove Angela and I to Port Angeles. She drove faster than my father, who I suddenly decided to call Chief for some reason, so we arived there by four. It had been a while since I'd had a girls' night out, and the estrogen rush - something I've just made up - was invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs - how appropiate, Ms. Mope Swan - while Jessica jabbered on about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike had gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled to myself, pleased to see I was such a good manipulator. Angela was passively happy to be going to the dance, but not really interested in Eric.
Passively?
passive /ˈpæsɪv/adj

1. not active or not participating perceptibly in an activity, organization, etc
2. unresisting and receptive to external forces; submissive
3. affected or acted upon by an external object or force
4. denoting a voice of verbs in sentences in which the grammatical subject is not the logical subject but rather the recipient of the action described by the verb, as was broken in the sentence The glass was broken by a boy
5. (of a substance, esp a metal) apparently chemically unreactive, usually as a result of the formation of a thin protective layer that prevents further reaction
6. containing no source of power and therefore capable only of attenuating a signal: a passive network
7. not capable of amplifying a signal or controlling a function: a passive communications satellite
8. (of a bond, share, debt, etc) yielding no interest

I do not think it means what you think it means: 5. 
Jess tried to get her to confess who her type was, but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, to spare her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.

We headed to the local department store. Jessica and Angela seemed surprised that I'd never been to a dance before.

"Really. I didn't go out much."

"Why not?"

"I was socially awkward. No one liked me."

"But here, everyone loves you. And you don't like anybody." We were in the juniors' section now, scanning the racks for dress-up clothes. Wait, what? The juniors section? As in, for kids? I stopped buying in the juniors section when I was 10. Granted, my body started to change really soon and I was the only eighth grader with fully grown breasts, but still. I'm sure a trio of seventeen year olds have boobs.

"Well, except for Tyler," Angela amended quietly.
"Excuse me?" I gasped. "What did you say?"
"Tyler told everyone he's taking you to prom," Jessica informed me with suspicious eyes.
"He said what?" I sounded like I was choking.

"I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.
Murmur: 4.

I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation. But we had found the dress racks, and now we had work to do. Wow, she forgets soon.

"That's why Lauren doesn't like you." How convenient! As it turns out, the only person in-universe who doesn't like our little Isabella Marie Sue Swan only hates her out of jealousy. Not because she's whiny or rude.  Because Tyler likes her.

I asked Angela if it was normal for the Cullens to miss school when it was sunny.

"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time — even the doctor. They're all real outdoorsy," she told me quietly, examining her shoes, too. I know I'm being nitpicky here, but shouldn't it be "really outdoorsy"? She didn't ask one question, let alone the hundreds that Jessica would have unleashed. I was beginning to really like Angela. I like people who don't get in my way!
Once we finished shopping, Jessica and Angela talked about having dinner. Proving once more how intelligent I am, I prefered to go all by myself to a book store at night in a city I didn't know. No chance I'm going to be raped tonight!, I thought.
I didn't enter the book store because it was hippie-looking. I wandered the streets of Port Angeles looking for a normal bookshop. I saw Edward's volvo. Stupid, unreliable vampire.

Then a group of four men attempted to rape me.

Luckily, Edward arrived in his shiny, sparkly Volvo and saved me, of course. I got in the car and marvelled at how hot he was. He was perfect.
Do I dazzle you?: 5.
It wasn't like he had anger-management problems.

"Jessica and Angela will be worried," I murmured. "I was supposed to meet them."
Murmur: 5.
He took me to dinner.
He spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again." Isn't it sweet when your love interest threatens to brutally murder your friends?
"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious. Or, OR, she's worried.
"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edward." I gestured toward him.
"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his silken, irresistible voice. I could see from their staggered expressions that he had never unleashed his talents on them before.
Do I dazzle you?: 6.
Angela and Jessica had already eaten. Rude bitches.

"I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low, but full of authority. He looked up at Jessica and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, AGAIN WITH THE LIP BITING. STOP DOING THAT. trying to figure out from my expression whether that was what I wanted. I winked at her. I wanted nothing more than to be alone with my perpetual savior. There were so many questions that I couldn't bombard him with till we were by ourselves.

We sat in the restaurant. The host was female, and she clearly had the hots for Edward. I felt jealous.

Listen, Bella. Waitresses are obliged to be warm and nice, regardless of how hot the customer is. That doesn't mean she's flirting with him.

"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly fair."
"Do what?"
"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."
He seemed confused.
"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on people."
He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle people?"
"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"
He ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you?"
"Frequently," I admitted.
*snerk*

His eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"

"Should I?"

He chuckled at my puzzled tone.

"Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." His face twisted up into that perfect crooked smile.

"I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again. "I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things." AHEM. So far, you've whined at a pace of twice per page. And not just about really unpleasant things: rain, snow, people loving you...

He pushed the bread basket toward me.
"Really, I'm not going into shock," I protested.
"You should be — a normal person would be. You don't even look shaken." He seemed unsettled. He stared into my eyes, and I saw how light his eyes were, lighter than I'd ever seen them, golden butterscotch. That's two different colours. Pick one.
"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again.
That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed. Alabaster brow? Really? He shook his head, frowning.

After that we talked. He'd followed me to Port Angeles, because that wasn't creepy. And he could read minds. And exactly how do you know that? Can you read minds too?

"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. DANGER. DANGER.  "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes." He paused. I wondered if it should bother me that he was following me; - YES - instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure. Are you  retarded and/or insane? You think the guys at your school are annoying because they follow you around. And when someone is actually stalking you, you feel "pleasure"? He stared, maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an involuntary smile."Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself.

"That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard to hear. I stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. "Your number was up the first time I met you." RUN, BELLA, RUN!

I felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent black glare that first day…- nevermind because...- but the overwhelming sense of safety I felt in his presence stifled it. By the time he looked up to read my eyes, there was no trace of fear in them.

I've never met someone so prone to life-threatening idiocy!

- Alice Cullen.