twelve, the biology field trip
twilight

The greenhouse was humid, making Clovers hair slightly frizzy. Thick with the scent of damp earth and growing greenery. The heat pressed in from every direction, wrapping around Clover like a dense fog, making the worksheet in her hands feel damp at the edges where the paper was wrinkling.

The assignment was simple: identify five plant species, note their classifications, describe the adaptations that help them survive. Then, she's get a good grade, and she'd be one step closer to finishing school. One assignment at a time.

She sighed, adjusting her grip on the clipboard, eyes scanning the tables where set pairs had already started jotting down notes.

Rosalie stood beside her, arms loosely folded, expression unreadable. A partner that she hadn't asked for, but welcomed kindly anyways. Clover knew pairing was random, the teacher had made sure of that.

But this? This felt like the worst possible match.

The blond who never spoke to anyone but her own family. The girl who Clover was sure she was a un-human being.

Rosalie didn't fidget. She didn't adjust her sleeves. She simply watched Clover.

Clover forced herself to focus, yet it was really hard with Rosalie staring holes into her head. "We should start with the Venus flytrap," she murmured.

Rosalie barely reacted, just nodding. "Go ahead."

Clover clicked her pen, bending slightly to examine the small, spiky-toothed plant. "It's carnivorous," she noted aloud, scribbling onto the sheet. "Its leaves act as traps, snapping shut when triggered, digesting whatever lands inside."

Rosalie hummed faintly. "Efficient."

Clover hesitated. There was something about the way she said it, like she understood exactly what it meant.

Meanwhile, across the greenhouse, Juno was deep in conversation with Mike, her hands gesturing as she leaned in slightly, clearly engaged in whatever chaos she was about to unleash. Her assignment a disregard thought, like it didn't matter, much to Mikes anxiety about his grade.

"So," Juno started, calculating but casual, "why haven't you asked Clover to prom yet?"

Mike nearly dropped the gardening tool he'd been handed. "I, wait, what?"

Juno arched a brow. "She's single. You like her. It's basic math. I suck at math and know that."

Clover froze, she could hear them, loud and clear. Rosalie smirked faintly, saying nothing. She knew who Clover would be to her by time school started after summer break, she knew who Clover would become to Emmett too. Alice had told them, drew a picture of them and placed it on Rose and Emmetts bedroom door.

She may or may not have left out the part where Clover does actually get involved with Mike.

Mike stammered, fumbling with his gloves. "I — I don't, she doesn't even..."

Juno exhaled dramatically, shaking her head. "Mike, you have to step it up. The way I see it? You've got this exact moment to get your act together before someone else beats you to it."

Clover buried herself back in the worksheet. Venus flytrap. Carnivorous. Snap-trap mechanism. She scribbled quickly. "It digests whatever lands inside," she looked towards Rosalie, telling her softly, like she didn't know.

Rosalie tilted her head slightly. "You don't seem like the greenhouse type."

Clover swallowed. "Kind of."

Rosalie's gaze didn't waver. A beat of silence. Then came, "How's your wrist?"

Clover's grip tightened subtly around the clipboard, causing a small flare of pain to appear. "Fine."

Rosalie hummed again, tilting her head slightly. "That's good."

A pause. Again. Clover dared a glance at her, watching the way Rosalie's posture never shifted, the way her presence felt both impossibly perfect and subtly intimidating. She had no idea why it unsettled her.

And across the greenhouse, Juno nudged Mike's elbow pointedly.

"Now's your chance. Ask her." Mike looked like he was about to pass out. Juno grinned.

🌲

The café was warm, filled with the scent of roasted beans and vanilla. The hum of quiet conversation layered over the faint clatter of ceramic mugs against wooden tables that had condensation rings.

Clover wrapped her hands around her cup, the heat soaking into her fingers as she stared out the window. The biology trip had been long, the entire day, and the humidity from the greenhouse still clung to her like a second layer of skin. 

Mike sat across from her, stirring his coffee, like he had something to say but couldn't quite find the words. "Glad we did coffee," he said finally, voice lighter than his obvious nerves. "Needed to defrost after that humidity bomb."

Clover huffed a small laugh. "Yeah, I think my shoes are still damp."

A pause. There was always a pause.

Mike cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. "So... prom."

Clover blinked, caught off guard. "Prom?"

Mike nodded, still playing with his cup, turning it like the motion might settle his thoughts. "Yeah, it's coming up. And uh... I was thinking —" He inhaled sharply, then tried again, voice firmer but still uncertain. "Would you want to go? With me?"

Silence stretched between them, not awkward, but heavy. Clover tightened her grip on her cup, watching as the steam curled into the air. 

Mike was genuinely hopeful — not pushy, not overconfident, just waiting.

She exhaled slowly, feeling a mix of hesitation and surprise. She couldn't imagine this back in Los Angeles, a fairly cute boy asking her to prom. She would have laughed at the idea.

Now, she was more than ready to go. To welcome the change of Forks. She didn't feel like it was because she was the new girl, but it was because Mike genuinely valued her.

"I — yes, Mike, of course!"

Clover, lucky like a green one with four little leaves, wondered what dress she would wear. What it would be like. Would Mike pick her up, or would she pick him up? Would she kiss him? Would she spill her drink all over her dress.

She was spiralling.

"Clover," Mike reached out and gently tapped her hand, noticing how she was staring into space. "If you don't want to go with me, it's okay."

Clover felt awful. How could she make him feel like that. Oh my. "No, no! I do, really, Mike. I was just thinking about my dress, I have to buy one."

"My older sister works at a dress shop in Port Angeles. She'd love to help, Clover." Mike smiles kindly. He's a warm light. He feels radiant, like the sun that Clover is so desperately missing.

"Thank you, Mikey."