A ping illuminates my phone's cracked screen right before it dies, signaling a text from Emma.

Regina's calling an emergency town meeting at the Hall. Be there 5 sharp.

An emergency town meeting sounds ominous. I'd assume it's about the dead flying monkey or Hortense, but Emma told me to be there. That has to mean it's about the rumors, doesn't it? Regina promised to take care of it, but is this how she'll tell everyone the truth? At her son's expense? This is Henry. There's no way Regina's gonna turn Storybrooke against him. She'll only gonna make things worse. The town's gonna chase me out of here before nightfall. I shouldn't bother unpacking.

Parking by the apartment building, my phone charges and blows up with text messages.

My stomach plummets. The constant dinging of notifications reminds me of when Agatha dropped bombshells on me. But when I look at my phone, the texts are from friends.

Delilah: Hey, girl!! Emergency town meeting at 5. I thought I'd let you know since you're not on the town app :) 🐻

Is it too soon to send a bear emoji?

You're not still freaked out about that are you?

David: Hey, Bella. Regina's hosting a town meeting today at 5:00. Just wanted to let you know.

Ruby: Hey B! Town meeting at 5 so come over right after kay? So excited for to-nite!❤️

I'm stunned for a moment, surprised by the genuine concern of their messages. Maybe I've been too skeptical of their friendship. How stupid I've been for questioning whether they care about me? Why else would they let me know about the meeting? I'm not a Storybrooke citizen, yet they view me as one. As an equal. Maybe I do belong here. I guess I made the right call to stay.

And yes, Delilah, it is too soon to send me a bear emoji.

When I get to the second floor, my phone chimes again. This time, the messages are from Mary Margaret.

Hi, Bella! Regina's having an emergency town meeting at the Town Hall at 5. She wants you to be there.

It's at 5 o'clock.

Oh, dear, I've already said that.

Anyway, the second half of my sandwich is in the fridge if you're hungry.

Oh wait! I never touched it!

I made it this morning for my school lunch, but I always leave one half at home in case David or Emma gets hungry.

It's yours if it's still there.

Okay. Got to go. The kids are filing in.♡

I love her. I love having someone look out for me in this motherly way. My chest fills with the giddiness I only experience when I witness the first snowfall of the season. It's a warm feeling, and I didn't realize how much I lacked it until meeting her.

I definitely, definitely made the right call.

I love Storybrooke. Everyone's so nice. I love it, love it, love it! I'm safe. Thought of. Supported. And that's how friendship should feel. I shouldn't be trying to impress or hide my thoughts and feelings. I should be encouraged to be myself and share everything on my mind—bad and good.

On the third floor, which is technically the fourth, considering the ground level, I remove a Post-It stuck to the loft door. It reads:

𝒢𝓁𝒶𝒹 𝐼 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅.

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒

𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔.

-𝒴𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝑜𝓁 𝓊𝓃𝒸𝓁𝑒

Smiling, I tuck the note in my pocket, text everyone back to thank them—except for Delilah—then head inside.

As Mary Margaret said, the other half of the sandwich is in the fridge. I open the Tupperware container and get a strong whiff of an ocean-fresh mix of herbs, spices, and mayonnaise. The light cream-colored tuna salad filling spills out from between two pieces of toasted wheat bread. The golden-brown rings of pickles and the green tops of celery and onion peek out from the center of the sandwich. I'm not a huge fan of tuna salad, but I love sandwiches. Plus, Mary Margaret thought of me and said I could have it.

I'd lounge on the couch and eat straight from the container, but my mood's a complete one-eighty from this morning. So instead, I put the sandwich on a delicate white plate—after picking out what I can of the pickles—and pour iced tea into a tall, clear glass. Then, I dig around the apartment to find objects to decorate the table.

I lay out a linen tablecloth, smoothing it over the table's surface to remove wrinkles. Sunny cotton placemats follow. Silver utensils gleam in the light as I set them on the table. Glasses, plates, and crisp linen napkins complete each place setting. A vibrant, silky bouquet of Autumn flowers adorns the center of the table, making it feel like home. A scented candle flickers next to the vase to add a final touch, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Last but not least, I put on a record.

Sitting at the table, I open Henry's storybook and enjoy my ambient lunch, the scent of pumpkin and apples mingling in the air and Madonna's music filling the room. I sing along with my mouth full of sandwich.

Starlight, starbright

First star I see tonight

Starlight, starbright

Make everything all right

My ringing phone interrupts me.

It's Henry.

I stop chewing and stare at my phone going off. I don't want to talk to him. In fact, he's the last person I want to talk to—lower than Regina and Gold combined...That's a scary image. My mind races through everything I'd say if I were to answer. I want to yell at him again for spreading rumors about me all over town. I want to tell him off for what he said the last two times we spoke. I don't want to talk to him at all...but it might be important.

As always, curiosity gets the best of me.

I dash to stop the record player, then sit back down and pick up the phone. "You have some nerve calling me, Henry. You better be calling to apologize, you little piece of—"

"It's not Henry." I should've guessed it might've been Regina since the call's from the house number. It had a fifty-fifty chance of being from her.

"Regina," I acknowledge, walking around the table. "I hear you're hosting a town meeting." With a puff, I blow out the candle.

"I am. It's at—"

"Five o'clock sharp. A bunch of people already told me," I say, placing the vase of flowers back.

"Then good. I need you to be there."

"Why?"

Regina sighs into the phone. "It's an emergency meeting. I need all the people that are available to attend."

"Why?" I push, gathering and stacking the napkins.

"Because I have news I want them to hear before someone else makes things worse."

"Makes what worse?"

"Just be there, okay?" she says, her voice rising in indignation.

I pretend to yawn, but it turns into a real one. "I don't know. I'm kind of tired." I love pushing her buttons.

"Do you think I don't know what a fake yawn sounds like? Need I remind you, I'm the mother of a twelve-year-old."

"I don't understand why I have to be there." I put my phone on speaker, placing it on the table, then remove all the plates and placemats. "I'm not a Storybrooke citizen, and town meetings are reserved for town citizens, which I am not." I cringe at myself. Regina intimidates me too much to think and speak clearly.

"No. But it concerns you."

"Look, I appreciate you and the others inviting me to listen in, but I think I know what this meeting's about, and I don't want to be there to get shunned and/or beaten by an angry mob. It's too much."

She's silent for a moment, probably thinking about how much time she wasted by calling me. "Suit yourself...Were you really going to call my son a little piece of—"

"Sunshine. Yeah, th-that's definitely what I was going to say."

"Mm-hmm. Just be there."

"But what about what I sa—"

"You'll be there." Regina's decisive tone signals the end of the call, and I sigh.

"I guess I'll be there," I mutter, not knowing why I bother arguing with her.

Attending this impromptu town meeting fills me with a whirlpool of dread and intrigue. What news could Regina have that concerns me? Part of me's scared to find out—scared of the reception I'll receive from the town, especially if it's about the rumors. But another part of me's curious, yearning to know what Regina has to say. Hopefully, I'm ready for whatever comes.

* * *

Unlike the meeting I tried to host, the room is a dense sea of people. Expectant faces line the walls while others sit shoulder-to-shoulder, but everyone is in various stages of readiness. Some are absorbed in their phones, and some cross their arms to stare into space. As I slip in, the low buzz of anticipation crawls through the auditorium-esque room like fog. Tension fills the air, punctuated by the soft murmur of conversations speculating the purpose of the gathering. Flying monsters, modernizing Storybrooke, border issues, relocating the B&B, and a new villain are popular guesses.

I slide into a seat at the back, my presence unnoticed amid the crowd's expectancy for someone to start the proceedings. The squeaking of chairs and the occasional cough and sneeze cut through the waves of restless chatter. Shoes shuffle across the hardwood floor, and the anxious crowd's deep breaths echo off the walls.

The whispering escalates into rowdiness as people argue about various town matters. However, they settle into their seats as Regina steps up to the center-stage podium at precisely five o'clock. "Thank you all for coming," she says into the microphone. "I know this is an inconvenient time for many of you."

"I've got a diner to run!"

"I'm well aware," Regina snaps back. She gazes out at the crowd and spots me, her face unreadable. She gestures toward me, and I wish she hadn't. "I'm sure by now you all know Bella Palmer."

The entire room swivels to focus on me, chairs squeaking and scratching against the floor from the sudden movements. All eyes fixate on me, and the tension becomes almost palpable. Some citizens are happy to see me; others not so much. A few scratch their chins while others whisper amongst themselves. My face flushes, and I wish I could melt into the floor. I'm like a small rodent surrounded by hungry predators; a fish out of water. I hoped to remain inconspicuous, but that's far out the door now.

I give a single, awkward wave.

"Yes, she's here," Regina continues. "And no, she's not a Storybrooke citizen. She's here for a reason that concerns her, and it's why we are all gathered here today. So without further ado..."

Sweat forms at the back of my neck while I steel myself for what's about to come. My heart pounds in my chest as Regina speaks again, each word more intense than the last.

"Bella has been falsely accused of killing one of her friends, and I want to set things straight."

My eyes widen as her words sink in. I can't believe she's doing this. I didn't trust her when she said she'd clear my name. Yet here she is, delivering on her promise.

Regina regards me with a blend of pity and determination. "I believe you were all lied to."

The crowd stirs as they digest what Regina said. If I were up there, I would've omitted the "I believe" part, but okay.

"You were told that Bella is a murderer."

"I believe it, sister," a voice pipes up.

My shoulders slump when I spot Leroy near the front.

"She almost—"

"Flattened you out like a pancake. Yes, you've told me...many times." Regina turns her attention back to the audience. "If anyone here wants to point fingers at someone for being a murderer," she pauses to take in a breath, "it should be me."

More murmurs ripple through the room.

What the hell is she doing?

I scoot to the edge of my seat, waiting for what she's about to say.

"I..." Regina's hands clench the podium's edges, and she lowers her head. I've never seen her so vulnerable. "I admit that I killed Graham."

My jaw drops, and water fills my eyes. Not from grief—I didn't know the guy—from relief. The visions didn't kill him. Regina did. I'm going to live. There's a whole life ahead of me to have good moments.

I can live.

I close my eyes and thank my lucky stars for giving me another chance at happiness. I'll do good this time, I promise.

As for the others, they're all stunned, but that doesn't stop them from grumbling.

Emma shoots up from her seat in the front row. "You? You killed Graham?" she shouts over the crowd, with David restraining her by the arm.

Regina continues, her eyes welling up as she stares at her hands, now clasped on the podium. "I stole his heart in the Enchanted Forest and crushed it when he started remembering who he was." The way she makes it sound is as if Graham fell in love with her, she turned him down, and he died of heartbreak. I'm going to assume there's some kind of magical element to all this.

"He was a person, Regina. Not a pawn in your twisted games," Emma says, crying. I never took her for a crier. Whoever Graham is—was—must've been important to her.

"You think I don't know that? But it had to be done. He was a threat to the curse."

"Damn you, Regina."

"Which one of us will be next?" Granny calls out to the audience, standing from her seat.

People mutter sounds and words of agreement.

This isn't looking good.

"Sit down and stick to the cooking, lady," Regina retorts. "I'm in charge here."

"Because you put yourself in charge."

"We live in America now," Leroy says. "America is a democracy, not a dictatorship."

"I am not a dictator."

"Well, you sure as hell act like one," Emma says.

"Excuse me? I am a queen," Regina asserts, her dignity still intact.

"One that should be dethroned. I agree with Leroy. It's about time Storybrooke became a democracy."

The crowd cheers at Emma's words.

"We should have a mayoral election!" Granny shouts, egging the mob on.

"You have got to be kidding me."

"I'm dead serious," Emma says.

The two continue arguing as everyone else expresses their grievances and anger.

"We need a mayor we can trust," Emma declares. "Someone who will put our needs first. Someone who won't use magic to do whatever the hell they want."

Regina chuckles, but it sounds like a growl through the microphone. "And you think I haven't been doing just that? That I wouldn't be doing the same as...a commoner?" Disgust flavors her voice as she utters the last word. "All due respect, you don't even know how magic works, Miss Swan."

Emma takes a step forward, her voice firm. "I may not fully understand magic, but I know when someone's using it for their own gains. You turned Graham into a puppet—You killed him! And if you remain mayor, who knows which other people you might hurt? We all deserve the chance to be heard and to have a say in our future, not just you."

The crowd erupts into cheers, chants of "Vote Swan for mayor!" filling the conference hall. Regina steps back from the podium, her face etched with disbelief as her commanding power over the room dissolves.

David moves toward the stage, arm outstretched, as though approaching a frightened sheep. "You could still win, Regina. People will respect and admire you."

"The day I respect and admire her is the day Hell will freeze over," Granny declares.

"Did he eat a bowl of crazy flakes this morning?" Leroy says to her from across the room.

"Let me finish." David turns back to Regina. "Don't let this moment pass by without at least trying to make things right again with the townspeople."

"He's right, Regina," Mary Margaret adds, standing. "You wanted to be better for Henry. Now's your chance."

Regina looks at them with tears before turning back to the audience with determination. "You want to have an election? Fine. But I doubt any of you would be able to do my job. And I pledge to make Storybrooke better for everyone if you keep me in office."

"You're going to do that by killing us off one by one?" Who knew Granny was so hot-headed about politics?

The room erupts again as Regina steps away from the podium and walks across the stage, her head held high despite her red puffy eyes.

I can't stand this. They've turned on me only to turn on her. She put the hate and shame onto her own shoulders.

But I was falsely accused. She actually murdered somebody. Doesn't she deserve this?

She helped me. She told everyone the truth and set me free—cleared my name. She provided me a room at the inn, arranged the DNA test, and offered me a room with a queen-sized bed at her house. She may have crossed off this Graham guy, but I still can't bear to see Storybrooke tear her to pieces. I know what that's like—to have not just Storybrooke but the world against you. No one deserves that, no matter who they are.

I stand, making myself known again, and shout over the clamor. "Shut the fuck up!"

Everyone falls silent, and Regina looks at me, alarmed.

I stride up to the stage and position myself in front of the podium. Standing stage left, Regina faces me with flushed cheeks. She's stunned by my presence at the podium, and to be honest, so am I.

With my hand over the mike, I tell her, "You helped me. Now I'm going to help you."

A faint smile tugs at her mouth, and her wet eyes soften.

Everyone's attention fixates on me once more.

I didn't think this through. Fury and determination overtook me, propelling me to the stage.

This is dangerous. They could turn against me again if I say the wrong thing.

So I won't.

I scan the crowd for Hook, seeking moral support, but he's nowhere to be seen among the sea of expectant faces.

"Citizens of Storybrooke," I begin, my voice steady despite gripping the edges of the podium with my lungs contracting. "I'm not going to introduce myself because you all know me, even before I stepped foot in this town, which I find ridiculous, by the way. And if you didn't know me, you do now, thanks to Regina's announcement."

Soft clicks of heels move across the stage until I sense Regina's presence at my side. She wraps her arms around herself out of the corner of my eye. To anyone else, it may seem like she's folding her arms, but I know self-comfort when I see it. And to my surprise, she doesn't take the microphone back. "Where are you going with this?" she whispers.

I have no clue.

"Despite everything you've been told, I'm not who you think I am. I'm not Queen or Princess Anna. I'm not a pirate. I'm just me, Bella Palmer—Oh, shit, I introduced myself."

Soft laughter emits from the audience.

"Well, anyway, as Regina said, I did not kill my friend. I would never kill anybody."

"She's full of lies!" Leroy stands and points at me. When will this dude give it a rest? "She almost ran me over. I swear she was targeting me."

The conference hall murmurs.

"No, I wasn't," I say, striving to maintain my composure.

"I heard she robbed Gold." The short, stout man sneezes after he delivers the accusation. I'm inclined to bless him, but I shove it down.

"Okay, that one's true, but—"

"And she broke into the library and sped away from Emma."

"Granny!"

"Got herself arrested," she adds.

"Enough!"

Silence.

"Sit down."

Those who had risen to their feet comply, settling back onto their chairs like children scolded by a teacher.

"I get it. I robbed, and I trespassed, and I was let off with a warning. But I never killed. Henry lied to all of you. He tried to turn you all against me because he couldn't turn me against you. And you so easily fell for it."

Before, I intended to keep my head down, blend in, and avoid unnecessary attention. But now, at the podium in front of everyone, looking at all their judgmental faces, I'm determined to prove my innocence, even if it means confronting their accusations head-on.

"I am going to introduce myself because it's about time you heard the story from me, not Henry. My name is Isabella Palmer—Bella for short. I'm sixteen years old, and music is my whole life. I write, I sing, and I play guitar, piano, drums, trumpet, ukulele, violin, keyboard—a lot. I can play a lot."

Laughter sweeps through the crowd, bringing a smile to my face. This may just work.

"And..." I hesitate, the words I'm about to say feeling like I'm admitting a weakness. The confession's a vulnerability I've tried to hide for so long. It's defined me my entire life, a label written across my forehead. But if I don't accept it, I'm only giving it power, and I want to have the power. "I'm an orphan." That wasn't so hard now, was it? "I came here in search of my parents. Henry said they're here, but due to recent events, I'm starting not to believe him anymore. Uh—Some more things you should know about me..." Maybe my nationality will keep them satisfied and listening. It worked on me when I discovered it the other day. "I recently found out I'm part Norwegian. So, you know, that's cool."

I should say something uplifting to shift their focus away from Regina, but I'm not sure where to start. I want to make a difference in their lives, but I don't want to come across as a fake motivational speaker.

"I feel like I should say something inspirational while I'm up here and have your attention, so, um..." Nothing like the truth, right? "Life sucks. But that's okay. As long as you have hope and live good moments, you'll live rather than survive," I say, looking at Emma, Mary Margaret, and then at David. "I came into this town as an outsider, but now..."

I know why I stayed.

Maybe it's the town. Maybe it's these people and the stories we tell each other. Maybe it's all those things or one of them. But deep down, one thing keeps me here—my story. I don't have an ending yet, but there's only one place I'll find it. I have to stick around and be more open to what's right in front of me. I can't let anything scare me off because...this is where I'm meant to be.

From that first family dinner, I knew. I always knew. I'd never leave Storybrooke, even though I let myself drive to the edge of town. It wasn't that there was something better on the other side of that orange line. There isn't anything there at all—and there never will be. I stopped my car because my life is better here than it would be anywhere else.

"Henry was right about one thing," I continue. "I belong here. Storybrooke is..." a smile forms on my face, "a wonderful place to be, so I hope you don't mind if I stick around a little longer. And that means you all better get used to me. I'm sorry for babbling so much. I'm more of a thinker than a talker, but it needed to be said, so...yeah. And in terms of the mayoral election," I glance at Regina, her brows knitting together, "I think Regina makes a pretty damn good mayor."

She clears her throat.

"A pretty damn great mayor. She's powerful, commanding, and doesn't take B.S. from anyone. Sure, she's made mistakes, but don't we all? Don't we all deserve a second chance?" I let the thought drift over the townspeople, hoping they'll let the idea of holding an election go. "I'm Bella Palmer, and I approve this message." I cringe at myself, but I was compelled to say it since I'm in a civic building.

I prepare to leave but decide to add, "Oh—And if you see me, please don't ask if I remember. It's excruciatingly annoying." I wait, but nothing happens, so I leave the podium and head for the stairs.

"Go, Bella!" I turn to see Delilah standing and clapping.

A few others join in until the entire room is on their feet, applauding. Confusion envelops me as I gaze out at the crowd, smiles on people's faces. Emma, Mary Margaret, and David look like proud parents after watching their kid perform in a school play. But I did nothing special. I didn't sing or give a long-winded soliloquy. All I did was give a speech, and it was terrible.

I sense Regina's presence return to my side. "Why are they clapping?" I whisper out of the corner of my mouth. "I didn't say anything worthwhile."

"You owned your story. That's the bravest thing you can do." The second she says, "bravest," I think of Gryffindor. I have a firm belief it's where I belong.

Like with Storybrooke.

Everyone continues to applaud, but all I can focus on is the fact I'm not going to die.