Further Summary/Taboo Warning: Bella and Edward aren't just brother and sister, they're best friends. Safe in their world of baseball games, swimming at the pool, and staying up late to watch scary movies, they're just a pair of happy-go-lucky kids . . . until they aren't, because growing up also means coping with betrayal and unexpected loss. Sometimes, growing up means not feeling normal at all, feeling embarrassing desires, and wondering what you're supposed to do with your life. It almost never means falling in love with someone society forbids.

How could such an abhorrent thing possibly happen, anyway?

. . . Wildcats . . .

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Maggot Face Tyler doesn't scare me, even if he is thirteen and has the meanest face in the neighborhood.

He likes to swing his fist like he's going to punch me, but he won't dare because he knows I'll hit back. The first time I clobbered him was in third grade because he stole Jasper's candy bar, and the second time happened just a few weeks ago when he pulled my bathing suit bottoms down in front of everyone at Alice's pool. Ignoramus just doesn't learn. So now, when he's trying to look tough as he tilts his head back and hocks out a long stream of spit in my direction, I just roll my eyes. He must've taken a drink from the can of Mountain Dew at his side first, because it takes a lot of spit and force to make it past three feet.

We're playing baseball at the Valley Meadows Park ball field. It's already so hot that if I let my eyes cross, I can see heat waves above the dirt.

"What are you doing off the pitcher's mound, asshole?" Mike yells at Tyler.

Mike is the catcher, and probably the best player here. He almost always cracks the ball over everyone's head, even over Jake's gorilla arms, and that boy rarely misses a fly ball.

"She can't hit the ball from that far, asshole. This here's Bella Bunt It," Tyler snorts. "Bella Cunt Hit It."

I grit my teeth and swing the bat towards him like I know what I'm doing. It's too heavy and pulls me out of step, which makes Tyler laugh harder, but it's the only bat I have until Alice and Emmett show up. It's Sunday, and their parents make them go to church and eat breakfast together, so they won't get here for another hour at least.

"You're holding up the game, numb-nuts," Rose yells. Neither she nor I have graduated to swearing in front of anyone yet, but if anyone can drive us to it, it'll be Tyler.

He turns to glare at her. She flips him a double bird and he spits in her direction, but the breeze kicks up just then and blows it onto his shirt. I bend over at the waist and blow a snot bubble I'm laughing so hard.

"C'mon, Bella. Batter uhhhhhp!" Edward's voice is deep and commanding. Just two months ago, he couldn't talk without sounding like Mickey Mouse in the middle of a sentence. Not that he talks much. He turned twelve last month, but he seems much older than the rest of us. Mom says he was born an old soul, whatever that means. Maybe that they don't laugh much? Or seem to know everything? Or that they always have to be in charge? Cause that's Edward all over.

"One out, you guys. We gotchu, fuckers! You might as well just stand there and look pretty, Bella," Jake says, trying to sound cool. He looks over at Sam to see if he's paying attention, but Sam could care less. Sam's only here because Emily's here, but Emily's only here because she has a thing for Rose.

It's complicated.

Tyler pounds the baseball into his glove, and I do a left foot, right foot shuffle over home plate, digging the toe of my sneaker deeper into the dirt. I've got my game face on until a drop of sweat runs down my back, making me squirm.

"Got an itchy crotch?" Tyler yells. "Go on and scratch it, we'll wait."

More than I'd like to crack a ball over his head, I want to make Edward proud. Jasper is on second base and Edward is up to bat next. He expects me to at least hit the ball, even if it's an out, and I'm going to die of embarrassment if I miss it. For hours last night, he pitched me balls until I hit more than I didn't . . . that is, until I whacked one that bounced up from the ground and hit him in the kneecap. Like a dork, he limped around exaggeratedly for the rest of the night, but he's fine now.

"Shut up with the comments," Edward growls, and Tyler suddenly whips the ball my way. I feel a breeze at my chin and jerk back so quickly that I stumble and fall on my butt. It's a hard jolt that steals my breath and creates a small cloud of dust.

In the silence that follows, Edward walks to the pitcher's mound. Tyler's face looks defiant, but Edward's is expressionless, which is bad news.

"Oh shit," someone says.

Edward can do this thing with his eyes. With his face. He doesn't have to say a word when he's angry—the look he gives you is all he needs to do to scare the crap out of you. From the way Tyler blanches, I don't think he likes it any better than I do. I have to give him credit, though. He's shorter than Edward—most of us are—but he's not backing down.

The seconds stretch while they stare at each other, and I finally stand, wondering if I should speak up and tell Edward I'm fine. I don't want everyone to see me as his little sister, I just want to be a player on the team. And I don't understand why Edward's making such a big deal out of this because he never has before.

Tyler's gaze flicks to me, then back to Edward. He looks like he's going to argue, but then Edward's back goes ramrod straight and the two of them are nose-to-nose. I run over because no one else is, and enough is enough.

"Edward," I pant. He ignores me.

Tyler takes a step back, then another before he lowers his gaze. He's all hunched over now, and I feel sorry for him. He's an ugly bully, but Edward just cowed him without saying a word in front of almost the entire kid population around here. Whoever wasn't here today will know all about it by dinner tonight. Pretty sure his days of giving noogies and wet willies are numbered.

"Sorry," he mumbles to his feet.

"Say it to her," Edward growls.

Tyler's head snaps up. He looks this close to barfing. "I'm sorry, Bella." If he wasn't sorry before, he sure is now.

I look at Edward. His eyes are that black color they turn when he's angry. "Ready to play again?" I ask.

He can tell I'm embarrassed. It makes him smile, but it doesn't soften the look in his eyes. "Sure. Tyler's going to pitch like he knows what he's doing now."

Actually, Tyler looks like he'd rather be in Timbuktu right now.

"Damn it!" Rose screams. I look over to see her rip off her Huskies baseball cap, and then she's stomping up and down on it like she's trying to kill it. Dirt is flying everywhere. Jasper is beside her doing the jiggy.

Wait. Beside her?

Holy crap, Jasper stole a base!

Jasper and Edward do a complicated handshake thing that ends with them crashing against each other's chests, and we're having fun again.

Later that night when we're watching TV in the basement, I ask Edward about Tyler.

"So, um . . ." I squirm at my end of the couch and scratch my nose, which is peeling. "Do you think I've got a shot at the Wildcats team?"

Edward acts like he's asleep under his Cubs hat, like he doesn't hear me, but then his mouth curls into a lopsided grin. "They let any girl who wants on that team."

I frown. What does being a girl have to do with it? "I thought you said not everyone makes the team."

He pushes his cold foot against my thigh. "Not everyone does make the team. They turned some kid down flat last year because the Wildcats is a girl's-only team."

"A girl's only— What? No. What?"

He stretches and yawns, sinking further down the couch until his head is against the armrest. Like we're sitting on a teeter-totter, my body straightens and leans forward so I can watch his face on the way down. What the heck is he saying? I don't have to try out? But, I've been practicing ball ever since school let out because he told me I couldn't even swing like a girl!

"You think you're funny, don't you?"

"Sometimes. You make it easy."

I shove his foot off me and dive at him. He's ticklish and he's going to pay. Only it doesn't work that way because he doesn't let my fingers dig into him more than two seconds before he shoves me over and sits on my stomach.

"I can't breathe," I huff.

"Stop squirming," he laughs, but he's got my hands trapped above my head and is tickling me, which means squirming comes with the territory.

"Uncle," I gasp. "Aunt! I give!"

"Say Edward is my lord and master."

I laugh and squirm some more.

"Say it, or I'm not going to stop."

"You suck!"

"Wrong." Then he doubles his efforts until I almost can't breathe.

"Edward is my lord and master," I gasp out.

He finally stills, then looks down at me with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Not!" I add.

He rolls his eyes, then folds his arms while staring down at me.

"Okay, fine," I wheeze at him. "Maybe with Tyler today, you were. But why did you get so mad? He's like that all the time."

He pulls the hat off his head to scrub at his head, then climbs off me, resettling at his end of the couch. "He could have really hurt you. And then I'd have to hurt him." He shrugs, while flipping the hat back and forth by the bill. "I just wanted to play ball."

I snort. "Well, between you and my fist, he doesn't stand a chance against me. I don't know why he doesn't like me."

Edward frowns.

"What?"

"I think he does like you."

Revulsion makes me go stiff all over. "He does not."

"Don't worry, he'll stay away from you."

I'm not worried about that. "He doesn't like me," I repeat woodenly. "I'm going to punch him in the nose if he even looks my way now."

He shoots me an evil grin and sets the hat on my head. "And if you didn't, I would."

I cross my arms and lean back into the couch with a frown. Now I'm all freaked out. If he knows what's good for him, Maggot Face better keep his distance.

. . .

Alice wants to play Marco Polo. "This is my pool, so that's what we're gonna play," she tells us.

Her house came with a kidney-shaped, inground pool that starts at three feet and drops down to seven. We're not allowed in the deep end unless an adult is watching us, something we learned the hard way at the beginning of the summer when Emmett dared to test the boundaries, which resulted in a two-week ban for all of us. Now that we're finally back, we can't figure out what to play.

"Aw, c'mon," Emmett gripes. "It's my pool, too, and I say we play dodgeball."

Both he and Alice are wearing blue and white striped swimsuits, looking like the twins they are. Rose and I can't stop laughing about it, something that's pissing Alice off something fierce.

"Maybe dodgeball wouldn't be so bad after all," she says lowly.

Rose gasps. "No way. I'm not getting hit in the head with a volleyball again."

"Yeah, 'cause you're already deranged," I tell her. "Plus, I agree. I don't want to play dodgeball."

"We'll use the beach ball, you babies," Emmett huffs.

"No dodgeball," Jasper says. He's sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet dangling, inspecting his smile again in the water's reflection. He just got braces. "I don't want my teeth knocked out."

"Even if the beach ball hit you in the face, it wouldn't knock your teeth out," Edward drawls. "The ball's not hard enough. But my vote's for tag. Who's in?"

That's just like him, to listen to all of us without saying a word before he takes over. And usually, everyone agrees.

Emmett laughs gutturally and rubs his hands together. "I'm in!"

Alice stomps her foot. "Not it," she growls, then does a cannonball into the water.

And then everyone yells not it until we realize Edward didn't. On purpose.

He springs for Rose. "Hah!"

"That's not fair," she cries. "You didn't even give me a chance to run."

"Then run," he tells her.

She squeals and dives into the water, and Edward's right behind her. He bops her on the head when she surfaces. Rose is the slowest one of us, which is why Edward went after her. I think he's mean, but I would have done the same thing, so I guess I'm mean, too.

"Arrrrrrrrgh! I hate you, Edward!"

Rose hauls herself out of the pool and takes off after me. "Let me catch you, Bella," she huffs. "I can't be it for the rest of the day."

Giggling, I dart away from her behind a chaise. We feint back and forth for a few seconds before I slide across the chair and bump into a big potted plant, nearly knocking it over. Pausing for a few precious seconds, I thrust my face between the leaves and stick my tongue out at her. Oh, that pisses her off! I am dead meat if she catches me.

Everybody's catcalling Rose from the water now, which is where I'm heading when the pavement suddenly rises up at my face and everything goes smack. Instant cold heat rushes into my nose, and there's a ringing echo inside my head, which feels heavy.

Someone's hands are on me, and I hear this awful groaning. I'm being turned over, then realize I'm the one groaning. Something comes dangerously close to my burning nose, and I raise my hands to push it away.

Oh my god, it's Edward, and he's surrounded by shooting stars.

I try to say whoa, but it comes out as an owwww again.

"You fell face-first," he said. Under furrowed eyebrows, his eyes are dark and his mouth is tight in a grimace. He looks like he's in pain.

"—always getting into some kind of trouble, Emmett," Mrs. McCarty is saying. "I turn my back for one minute, and chaos ensues. It's enough to give me gray hair, Alice, and I'm only 34. Bella, honey, are you alright?"

Mrs. McCarty's eyes are all warm sympathy. She's losing the scarf over her head.

"I don't know," I croak. "Sorry."

Her mouth curls into a wide smile, as wide as Emmett's. But her nose is all Alice, tiny and upturned at the end with teardrop nostrils. They both have her laughing brown eyes, though, dark as a watermelon seed. "You're so pretty," I sigh.

"She's okay," Edward says.

"Nuh-uh," Rose corrects him. "She's deranged."

I look like I had a nose job for the next week or so. Which is what I say whenever I'm asked, unless anyone who was there at the time happens to be around to correct me, which totally sucks.

It turns out that the Wildcats team coach is thrilled to have me - he says my enthusiasm helps make up for my not being able to hit one ball out of three. Since I can run fast, I usually make it to first base without being tagged. I'm not the best player, but I'm not the worst, either. Still, it's obvious I won't be a ball playing star, so I wonder about switching my focus to becoming a Disney on Ice performer.

I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind paying for lessons.