some people are this impressive without magic, but how?

[self_composed]

It has been six weeks since Bella sent out her applications and it is now the end of March. She has been on the soccer team since that time, winning the one game they've had against the team from the Quileute reservation, and has introduced Charlie to her flute (he's nonplussed but proud), and has been keeping straight A's in everything.

She has received four rejections (Harvard, Yale, MIT, and Princeton). The other schools are still quiet on the subject of applicant Bella Swan. Except Stanford.

Stanford thinks she is interesting, and would like to interview her in person, when would be convenient for her?

Hmm.

[Hey Alice. If anybody asks you, would you mind telling them you bought me a motorcycle?]

She can drive herself to the airport.

Comments

[self_composed]

"Right. They were a significant component of making that poor defense lawyer lose so much sleep," Bella says sweetly.

[edgeofyourseat]

...Alice cracks up.

[I love you,] he says by brainphone, because he is laughing too hard to use out-loud words.

[self_composed]

"I'm gonna go look up what I have to do to be licensed to use my silly, excessive present that I cannot sensibly return because you had it made custom for me," Bella says, heading into the house after petting her bike one more time.

[edgeofyourseat]

Alice gives the bike one last lingering look, and then follows her. That thing is gorgeous. And it suits her perfectly. He wishes he could actually get her a present that cool. But it's pretty much guaranteed that anything he might think to provide is inferior to what she could wish up for herself.

[self_composed]

"You're covering for me. I can't get that for myself, not readily," Bella responds to this thought. "You as good as got me this, because otherwise I'd have to fabricate the plausible ability to build the damn thing in order to have it in public. Oh, and you got it for me from a super secretive private hobbyist you met on the Internet who did you a one-time favor and who does not want his or her name publicized."

[edgeofyourseat]

"Cool," he says, and starts inventing hilariously implausible lies to cover for this imaginary person, because that is what he would actually do in that case.

[self_composed]

Bella looks up motorcycle laws in Washington. It turns out she needs Charlie's permission to take a sixteen-hour course and then pass a written test to be allowed to bike hither and thither. "Sixteen hours, dang," she says. "Oh well. If it turns out it would help, can I borrow some cash to pay an instructor to let me do that over a weekend instead of sitting through some regularly scheduled class that meets for an hour every evening for two and a half weeks?"

[edgeofyourseat]

"Yup," says Alice.

[self_composed]

"Grand. If you care, I'll pay you back when I too become a millionaire. If you don't, I will forget about it altogether after about twelve minutes of mild guilt." She starts looking for motorcycle instructors. She can just fly wherever, land a few blocks away, and claim to have gotten a ride.

[edgeofyourseat]

"I so don't care," he says. "Oh, uh, people are really gonna think we're fucking if you show up to school on that thing. You cool with that?"

[self_composed]

"Meh," says Bella. "Don't care enough to not use it. I will carry on denying it and say you're just buying me things with your court-awarded money because I helped you with the trial stuff."

[edgeofyourseat]

"Okay, cool."

A few things click in his head. Presents; beautiful things; designing for function and form.

"Hey, can I make you hot clothes?" he asks, already running through possibilities in his head. Dresses, various lengths; suits; assorted other items.

[self_composed]

"Not a fan of dresses or suits on me in general, although if I have to show up to something super-formal I'd wear a dress. Maybe now that I don't trip on imaginary things all the time I'll start showing up to dances? I'd wear dresses to those, and I'll let you make 'em if you want if you let me vet the design."

[edgeofyourseat]

"You got it."

Dancing. Oh, he can definitely design dresses for dancing.

[self_composed]

Bella grins. "Spiffy. I wonder if dancing is one pentagon, or one per type?" She tries it. "Huh. Works with one, but I probably couldn't win a waltz contest, I think this is just general I-can-dance-now."

[edgeofyourseat]

"...Wanna dance?" he suggests, grinning. Because why not?

[self_composed]

"D'you know how?" Bella asks. "Yet?"

[edgeofyourseat]

He shrugs and burns a pentagon.

[self_composed]

Bella can see it disappear. She shrugs and puts some waltz music on, and leads, even though he's taller and she's a girl.

[edgeofyourseat]

That is because Bella is perfect.

Completely for the fuck of it, Alice wishes himself a magnificently twirly pleated skirt.

[self_composed]

Bella laughs, and twirls him accordingly.

[edgeofyourseat]

He loves her so much.

[self_composed]

Bella doesn't get tired at this level of physical activity for hours. She can dance as long as she wants. But the music ends eventually and she spins Alice into a closing dip.

"That was fun," she says.

[edgeofyourseat]

"Whee!" says Alice, sitting down on the floor.

[self_composed]

"I love being magical," crows Bella. "I love it lots."