Chapter 4: Shopping With Becky

I decided to put this chapter in Alice’s POV for fun, and because I can describe things better this way. Hope you like it.

Chapter 4: Shopping with Becky

How long does it take to say ‘see you later’?

I loved Edward and Bella insanely, of course-they were my family- but sometimes their unwillingness to be apart, though romantic, was seriously annoying.

They had been standing by the red scrapheap Bella called a car for 5 minutes, and they showed no sign of moving. I knew Edward could feel my irritation, and, from what he was telling me yesterday, so could Becky. I glanced at her where she sat in her odd little car one space over. She was staring at Bella and Edward, like I had been, but her expression was soft, not irate. I realised I had seen that look before; the ‘happy-because-they’re-happy’ look that Esme always wore when she looked at them.

Becky turned, meeting my eye, and smirked. Then she looked back towards Edward, more intensely than before. He looked back at her, then glanced at me and grinned.

I stuck my tongue out at him. A vision of him getting into the car flashed through my head, and I smiled.

As if on cue, Edward kissed Bella softly for a moment and helped her into the truck. He closed the door - always the perfect gentleman - and watched her drive away, a serene smile on his face, before he turned and strolled towards us.

Becky’s engine roared to life. She pulled out and drove away just as Edward climbed into the car.

“Sorry Alice,” he said, still smiling like a love struck teenager- which he was.

“That’s ok Edward, you can’t help it.”

I wondered idly why Becky hadn’t left sooner, if she needed to go home first.

He laughed. “She waited so that she could be sure we would be home before she got there. She’s not sure she can handle the others alone.”

I didn’t blame her. There was nothing scarier than a pissed Rosalie.

***

About half an hour later, I was all set to go shopping.

Esme was excited about meeting Becky; we so rarely made human friends.

Carlisle was curious about her abilities and her knowledge of us, wondering just how far it went.

Jasper was nervous, unsure if he could control himself.

Rosalie was irritated, as predicted. In her opinion, the more humans we associated with, the greater our own personal danger. The fact that Becky already knew about us obviously made no difference to her.

I heard the sound of an engine that was rapidly becoming familiar, and tires turning onto the drive, and saw a flash of Becky’s car parked outside.

I squealed, making Jasper, who had his head in my lap, jump a foot in the air, and barrelled down the stairs to the door.

“Hi Alice I -WOAH!”

Becky tried to speak, but I cut her off with a huge hug, making her wobble. I didn’t know why I was so thrilled to see her; maybe because this was my first shopping trip with anyone who wasn’t crabby, whiny or older than me.

She laughed breathlessly.

“I swear Alice, you have too much energy for one person, especially one so tiny. How do you fit it all in there?”

“Ha ha very funny. Come on, the others are dying to meet you.”

“I’ll bet,” she smirked.

I pulled her into the house, eager to have this over with so we could go. Not that we were going to find much. Ugh! It was killing me that we only had time to get to Port Angeles, Seattle was so much better, and they had designers.

Edward had drifted down from his room and was playing the piano softly. Emmet was watching a ball game. Rosalie was tucked under his arm, doing nothing to hide her sullen expression. Jasper and Carlisle were just coming down the stairs and Esme hurried around the corner from the kitchen, a huge smile on her face.

“Hello,” she said, coming to stand a little way away from us, “You must be Becky. It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Thank you Esme. I’m very happy to meet you too. Your house is even more beautiful than I imagined, and...” Becky blushed, “so are you.”

Esme laughed. “Well, that’s one I haven’t heard before.”

Carlisle laughed too, coming to stand beside her. “Hello Becky, my name is Carlisle.” He held out his hand and she shook it, smiling and nodding.

“Emmet, Rosalie, don’t just sit there, say hello.” Esme chastised.

“Yo.” Emmet called in his big booming voice, raising one hand, but not turning his eyes from the screen.

Becky giggled. “Hi Em. Hello Rose. Oh!” she gasped, “I’m sorry, please don’t think I’m being informal or over familiar or anything, it’s just I’ve read so much about you, I feel like I know you already.”

“Don’t worry about it Becky.” Emmet really turned to look at her now, grinning like a lunatic. Rose just scowled.

Jazz was staring at Becky, looking totally perplexed. She noticed, and smiled at him.

“Something the matter Jasper?” she asked, making all of us start, because no one had introduced him yet. She giggled.

“Silly, I know everything about you,” she paused, looking straight into his eyes, “Major Whitlock.”

Jazz’s jaw dropped, and his eyes bugged out of their sockets. Edward was staring at her too, and I knew what he was thinking, what both of us were thinking, under the shock: she knew what Bella knew about us, but we hadn’t told her Jasper’s story yet, nor did Edward plan to. How could Becky know?

I shook the thought out of my head. Two of the four books hadn’t happened yet; Jasper’s story must come sometime in the future, but I couldn’t see, because the decisions wouldn’t be made for a while.

“We better go if we’re going to make it home before ten Becky,” I said, tugging on her arm.

“Ok,” Becky grinned, “I guess I’ll see you guys soon. It was nice to meet all of you. See you at school Edward.”

“Bye Becky.” Edward called, having to shout a bit, as I had already pulled Becky out the door and halfway down the steps to her car.

***

Shopping with Becky was like nothing I had ever experienced. It was strange to have someone who was as enthusiastic about the process as I was.

The few times I had dragged Bella shopping, she merely grumbled and let me do my own thing, accepting that Alice would be Alice and only complaining that I shouldn’t spend so much money on her.

Whenever I went with Rosalie, she chose her own clothes, and was much more interested in her own reflection than anything else. I was left to my own devices while she twirled in front of mirrors, so it was more like shopping alone.

With Becky, there was a balance. She was someone who didn’t mind me choosing her clothes, and then had fun trying them on. She suggested things that she liked, but accepted when they didn’t look good on her, which wasn’t often, as she looked good in a range of different colours and styles. She had changed out of that hideous school uniform into a pair of dark blue jeans and a black short sleeved t shirt, ditching the omnipresent rain jacket in favour of a fuchsia pink hoody. It was casual, but it suited her.

Everything suited her. Jeans, trousers, skirts, dresses, t shirts, blouses, all manner of shoes, from heels to high tops, and all kinds of colours; green, blue, black, yellow, orange, red, brown, pink and purple; though she did favour the last two above others, and she liked floaty, feminine clothes more than trousers.

I was having so much fun; it didn’t bother me that I hadn’t had a single vision all afternoon. I didn’t care that everything I did see was fuzzy and indistinct. Though I’d been dreading a small selection, I didn’t mind when we actually got there, and we found almost three bags full of pretty decent clothes that would hold up in the unpredictable Forks weather, and would still be acceptable for her to take home to England.

It happened as we were driving along the black highway between Port Angeles and Forks at about nine o'clock.

The sun had set, and the night was deep blue, the moon a bright light in the sky, almost full, the stars twinkling like diamonds. Becky and I were chatting, as we had been all afternoon, about anything and everything, when quite suddenly, there was someone in our path. Becky slammed on the brakes, pulling to a stop just inches from the figure, who didn’t even flinch. I knew in an instant that it was a nomad; someone who wandered from place to place, never stopping anywhere for long, and answering to no one but themselves.

Before I had time to process this, Becky was out of the car, rushing towards the statue-like vampire with a concerned expression.

BECKY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? THAT IS A VAMPIRE YOU KNOW! I yelled at the top of my mental voice, praying she would hear me. She seemed to, because she twisted round slightly to wink at me. I realised she was acting, making the nomad think that we were both ordinary humans.

“Oh my gosh, are you ok?” she asked, putting on an American accent and making her voice sound flustered, “I’m so sorry, I really didn’t see you there. My god, I could have killed you! I’m so sorry.”

“Not a problem madam,” the stranger answered, his voice silky and seductive, “It was my fault entirely, I wasn’t listening for traffic as I should have been. If there’s anyway I can make it up to you and your delightful friend, you have but to say the word.” The double meaning in his words would have been obvious to a seven year old.

“Actually, there is something you can do for us,” Becky said, sounding a little smug, “You can get the hell out of our territory.”

The nomad suddenly looked flabbergasted. “I beg your pardon? I...”

He trailed off, his eyes widening, as Becky glowed softly, lifting slightly off the ground and tilting her head back. When she resettled, everything was the same for one half second. Then the nomad yelped and raced into the trees at top speed.

What on earth? What had Becky done that could terrify a vampire? I got out of the car and hurried over to her.

“Becky? What was that?”

She didn’t answer. She just turned so that she was facing me.

It was the biggest shock I had ever had in my life.

Her skin had gone from plain to alabaster, bumpy to smooth, and dull to shimmering. Every feature was perfectly formed, angular, but with a soft, subtle curve, and her body had had all the creases smoothed out. Even in her baggy hoody, she looked like she had just stepped off a runway. Her mousey hair had turned a glorious shade of light, gold flecked brown. Most shocking of all, her once grey eyes were a brilliant gold, just like mine.

If my heart had been beating, it would have stopped.

“Becky. What... what did you do?” My voice was breathless and weak.

“You like it?” she asked in a voice like golden syrup, smiling sweetly with glittering teeth, “I worked out how to do this on Monday. It’s absolutely perfect, not a single fault. And it’s so much fun! I made it home in all of five minutes.” She grinned at me wickedly.

“But... how could you do that? If you turned yourself on Monday... you were human Tuesday morning and... Becky, how do you go back?”

“Easy! Well, not so easy, it takes a lot of concentration to do this, but it’s fairly simple once you get the hang of it.”

Becky closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A little frown crossed her features as she focused, then the soft glow returned. She didn’t lift this time, but I could see the changes: hair that had been shining turned dull; skin darkened; stunning vampiric perfection became average human beauty. Her eyes were ashy grey again when they opened.

“Ok, that is just crazy,” I said, when I could speak again. Becky laughed.

“Yeah, life gets pretty mad when I’m around. Alex always says the only thing more unpredictable than hanging out with me is the British weather.” She laughed again.

My interest perked up again, madness forgotten, as we climbed into the car. “Who’s Alex?” I asked. Becky blushed.

“He’s, um... he’s my boyfriend at home. He was the one who suggested I come here.”

“He knows about you?”

“Yeah, ever since I had this really bad accident and I decided to tell him everything.” She smiled, her expression soft. “He always really understands. He doesn’t freak out or anything and he can spot when I want to go travelling before I even know it. Little things, he says, like reading the same book over and over, or doodling, or talking about something a lot; they're signs that tell him that I’m bored with normal life and need a break.” She looked at the road, and I don’t think I imagined the tear on her cheek.

“Do you miss him?”

She nodded. “We were supposed to be spending the week together, for the school holidays, but he told me to come here, have some fun. I think he’s going to see his dad in London.”

I could see that this was hard for Becky, so I dropped the subject and started asking her more about her girl friends at school. They sounded hilarious, always doing silly things and making her laugh.

We had decided that I would back to Becky’s house and help her put away the new stuff, then run home afterwards. I got a little worried as we carried on down the road; we were getting awfully close to the boundary line. Did she know about it, or should I tell her?

Just when I was sure we were going to cross over, she turned onto a driveway that wound through the trees like a ribbon, following the treaty line exactly. When the drive opened into a wide grassy lawn, the line seemed to split in two, with our scents on one side, and the wolves on the other.

Becky left me to wander while she made herself dinner, humming along to the music that filled the house thanks to the speakers in every room, controlled from a central hub in the lounge.

The inside of Becky’s house was predictably girly and fun. Everything was decorated in varying shades of pink and purple, with flowery prints and smooth curves. Two sides of the house were completely glass, and the other windows were huge.

The main hallway opened out on either side with arches through to a huge living room and a kitchen-come-dinning room, and a door through to a small study with a desk, laptop and pigeon holes for stationary, similar to the ones in Esme’s office.

Upstairs there were two large rooms, one on each side, with frosted glass double doors. On the left was a large dance studio; sand coloured floor, ballet bar, one mirrored wall and a huge stereo. More glass doors opened onto a small balcony overlooking the garden. On the right was Becky’s bedroom. The walls were pale lilac, the floor carpeted in a darker lavender colour. The bed was a big four poster with fuchsia curtains and a baby pink bedspread. It had two pillows, and a dark pink comforter patterned with blanket badges was laid across the covers. At one end of the room was a small door leading to a blue and white bathroom, and at the other, a set of double sliding doors gave access to a walk in closet only a little smaller than mine. But, unlike mine, this closet had nothing in it except a single purple suitcase and the shopping bags Becky had dumped when we got in.

All in all, it was a nice house that suited Becky perfectly, showing her personal taste and feelings. I liked it; it was somewhere anyone would be comfortable.

I stayed for a little while longer, chatting and giggling about this, that and everything in between, until Becky yawned loudly and I decided it was time I headed home so that she could get some sleep. She thanked me for the shopping trip, and I ran still smiling from the satisfaction of an enjoyable shopping trip.

For some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being followed.