A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. It makes me all glowy inside. You guys were so nice I decided I could think up another chapter. (Plus, I'm gullible.)

Disclaimer: Twilight is still Stephenie Meyer's. And for her pedestal, should there be a throne at the top, or a recliner? I'm voting for recliner, since it sounds more comfy.

"You have to admit, it was amusing, Bella," Edward says, eyes carefully trained on the road, a slight smirk on his face.

"But she wasn't supposed to see it, much less videotape it," I whine. "She probably saw it in one of her visions and decided she'd record it in case she ever had need of blackmail."

He turns toward me, the look on his face very skeptical. "What could you possibly be involved in that would be bad enough for Alice to have need of blackmail?" A pained look crosses his face. "Then again…" he says, glancing at me worriedly.

"Thanks," I say sarcastically.

"I haven't forgotten prom so easily, either," I add with a slight shudder. "What if she wants to make me Guinea Pig Barbie again? I can hardly refuse, considering the dirt she has on me."

All I get is an exasperated look.

"Bella," Edward says, "If it worries you that much, I'll destroy the tape."

Yes! "And any potential copies," I say, eyes narrowed. Being thorough is very, very important. Especially with Alice.

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever."

"That's not a very committal answer," I hound him. He can't just say it to placate me.

"Bella," he says exasperatedly, "I will destroy the video and any duplicates Alice may have made. Okay?"

I settle in my seat, content. "Okay."

Later that day…

The phone rings. Caller ID says Edward. I hurriedly grab it.

"Hello?"

"Bella, um…" Uh-oh.

"What?" I ask warily. Just judging from the tone of his voice this can't be good.

"There's been a—ah—unforeseen complication in the demolition of the video."

Oh. Crap.

"What did she do?" I groan. I almost don't want to know.

"It would appear that Alice has—ah—ensured that the video can't be permanently erased.

My stomach twisting in knots, I whimper, "What did she do?"

Silence.

"Edward?"

"SheputitonYouTube." His words are slurred together, but once I realize what he said I make a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. Of course she'd see what Edward would attempt to do. And of course she'd think it too good to just let it get erased.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Later…

I wince as I watch myself dance on the computer screen. I'm never going to be able to live this down.

She hadn't been lying when she'd said that she'd gotten every second, either. From my pathetic rock-throwing attempt to my finally spotting her. Every humiliating second.

I put my head in my hands. This is too embarrassing to blush about. Not long afterwards, cold arms wrap around me.

"Sorry, love," Edward says.

"No worries," I mumble. "At least she can't use it as blackmail now." So far, it's the only good thing to come out of this.

Why, why do my plans always blow up in my face? You'd think that once, just once things would work out in my favor. I'm just not cut out for revenge.

"Come to my house?" he asks, lips in my hair. It's very distracting.

"Not if she's there," I grumble.

"I promise that she will not be there, Bella," he says, lips now moving to my cheek. Very distracting. And persuasive.

"Fine."

Later…

At least he didn't lie. Alice is nowhere in sight when I walk through the door. Which is good because I really, really, really want to her shins and I don't think that breaking my leg again is a strong enough deterrent.

"I never knew you could dance, Bella," Emmett says, coming down the stairs. A fiendish grin is on his face. I can feel the blush creeping across my cheeks.

"Yes, it was quite the spectacle," Jasper chimes in, entering from the kitchen. Alice must die. Again, since vampirism doesn't count.

"Now boys," Esme says warningly," no malicious teasing." But she's fighting a smile. Esme is fighting a smile! Esme!

"Any plans for vengeance, Bella?" Emmett asks, as he plants himself on the couch. "I'll gladly help. Pranks are fun."

Ha! "No, I'm not that stupid," I say. "She'd see it before I did it and then she'd make it backfire somehow."

"Oh," he says, looking put-out. Obviously, he hadn't thought that far.

I'm forced to endure another hour of teasing and taunting—despite Esme's protests—before I can convince Edward to let me go home. As I fall asleep, I'm firmly determined that this will end. And I will be the victor.

The next day I knock on the door to Alice's room. She opens it a crack, suspicion written on her face.

"Bella?" she asks cautiously. I smile grimly. It's apparent that she thinks I'm going to pull something.

"Returning shoes." I lift the box in my hands slightly. Her expression brightens. She opens the door and I enter.

Alice takes the box from me. "How can I be sure this isn't a trick?"

"Do you honestly think I'm that stupid, Alice?" I ask, disappointment dripping from my voice. "I know as well as you do that you would see if anything were to go wrong."

"Too right," she says cockily. She opens the box and when nothing happens, her grin widens.

An unpleasantly pungent smell then begins to permeate the air. Alice gives a slight cough. My eyes are watering but it is so worth it. Thank God for SuperStinkBombs.

The stink travels quickly. Alice looks at me oddly.

"You know I don't have to breathe right?" her cocky smile is back.

"Of course," I answer, trying to breathe in as little as possible. It really smells. I grin broadly. "I just wanted the opportunity to say something."

"And what might that be?"

"Can't smell this."

I'm basing this all on the fact that, as far as I'm aware, Alice can see and hear in her visions, but not smell. And after nothing happened when she opened the box, she didn't feel the need to look further.