Phoebe stalks down the high school hallway, boots squeaking on the waxed tile, her chipped black nails clenching a battered notebook. Ahead, Edward leans against the trophy case, unreadable eyes trained on the rain-streaked windows as students swirl around him. Bella lingers nearby, backpack hugged to her chest, glancing up with uncertainty. Phoebe slides in beside Edward, her red hair damp at the edges.
"You look like you could use a distraction,"
she says, voice low, bold. Edward doesn’t flinch, but his jaw sets as if bracing for a storm. Bella’s gaze sharpens. The bell rings. Phoebe holds his stare, the bright hallway lights flickering above them. Rain drums harder against the glass, and for a split second, everything beyond Forks High vanishes. Edward’s reply hangs in the air, taut and dangerous. Phoebe feels the electricity, senses the fracture lines between them all, and knows she’s already made herself part of this story.