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<p>twilight</p><p>STEPHENIE MEYER</p><p>LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY</p><p>New York Boston</p><p>Text copyright © 2005 by Stephenie Meyer</p><p>All rights reserved.</p><p>Little, Brown and Company</p><p>Time Warner Book Group</p><p>1271 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020</p><p>Visit our Web site at www.lb-teens.com</p><p>First Edition: September 2005</p><p>The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.</p><p>Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.</p><p>ISBN 0-316-16017-2</p><p>http://www.lb-teens.com/</p><p>For my big sister, Emily,</p><p>without whose enthusiasm this story might still be unfinished.</p><p>But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil,</p><p>thou shalt not eat of it:</p><p>for in the day that thou eatest thereof</p><p>thou shalt surely die.</p><p>Genesis 2:17</p><p>PREFACE</p><p>I'd never given much thought to how I would die — though I'd had reason</p><p>enough in the last few months — but even if I had, I would not have imagined it</p><p>like this.</p><p>I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter,</p><p>and he looked pleasantly back at me.</p><p>Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved.</p><p>Noble, even. That ought to count for something.</p><p>I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now. But,</p><p>terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers</p><p>you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve</p><p>when it comes to an end.</p><p>The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.</p><p>1. FIRST SIGHT</p><p>My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was</p><p>seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing</p><p>my favorite shirt — sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a farewell</p><p>gesture. My carry-on item was a parka.</p><p>In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named</p><p>Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this</p><p>inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America.</p><p>It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped</p><p>with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been</p><p>compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the</p><p>year I finally put my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie,</p><p>vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.</p><p>It was to Forks that I now exiled myself— an action that I took with great horror.</p><p>I detested Forks.</p><p>I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous,</p><p>sprawling city.</p><p>"Bella," my mom said to me — the last of a thousand times — before I got on</p><p>the plane. "You don't have to do this."</p><p>My mom looks like me, except with short hair and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of</p><p>panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving,</p><p>erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself? Of course she had Phil now, so</p><p>the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in</p><p>her car, and someone to call when she got lost, but still…</p><p>"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so</p><p>frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now.</p><p>"Tell Charlie I said hi."</p><p>"I will."</p><p>"I'll see you soon," she insisted. "You can come home whenever you want — I'll</p><p>come right back as soon as you need me."</p><p>But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.</p><p>"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great. I love you, Mom."</p><p>She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was</p><p>gone.</p><p>It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to</p><p>Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother</p><p>me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about.</p><p>Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole thing. He seemed genuinely</p><p>pleased that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of</p><p>permanence. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to</p><p>help me get a car.</p><p>But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone</p><p>would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I knew</p><p>he was more than a little confused by my decision — like my mother before me,</p><p>I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.</p><p>When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen — just</p><p>unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.</p><p>Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is</p><p>Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind</p><p>buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven</p><p>around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic</p><p>like a cop.</p><p>Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the</p><p>plane.</p><p>"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and</p><p>steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renée?"</p><p>"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie</p><p>to his face.</p><p>I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too permeable for</p><p>Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter</p><p>wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.</p><p>"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped</p><p>in.</p><p>"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said "good car for you" as</p><p>opposed to just "good car."</p><p>"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."</p><p>"Where did you find it?"</p><p>"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian</p><p>reservation on the coast.</p><p>"No."</p><p>"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.</p><p>That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking</p><p>painful, unnecessary things from my memory.</p><p>"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond, "so he can't</p><p>drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."</p><p>"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the</p><p>question he was hoping I wouldn't ask.</p><p>"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — it's only a few years old,</p><p>really."</p><p>I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up that easily.</p><p>"When did he buy it?"</p><p>"He bought it in 1984, I think."</p><p>"Did he buy it new?"</p><p>"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest,"</p><p>he admitted sheepishly.</p><p>"Ch — Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it</p><p>if anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic…"</p><p>"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."</p><p>The thing, I thought to myself… it had possibilities — as a nickname, at the very</p><p>least.</p><p>"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on.</p><p>"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift."</p><p>Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.</p><p>Wow. Free.</p><p>"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."</p><p>"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road</p><p>when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out</p><p>loud. I inherited that from him. So I was looking straight ahead as I responded.</p><p>"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add that my</p><p>being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with me.</p><p>And I never looked a free truck in the mouth — or engine.</p><p>"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks.</p><p>We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that</p><p>was pretty much it for Conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.</p><p>It was beautiful, of course;</p><p>was very, very stupid.</p><p>I should be avoiding him entirely after my brainless and embarrassing babbling</p><p>yesterday. And I was suspicious of him; why should he lie about his eyes? I was</p><p>still frightened of the hostility I sometimes felt emanating from him, and I was</p><p>still tongue-tied whenever I pictured his perfect face. I was well aware that my</p><p>league and his league were spheres that did not touch. So I shouldn't be at all</p><p>anxious to see him today.</p><p>It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway</p><p>alive. I almost lost my balance when I finally got to the truck, but I managed to</p><p>cling to the side mirror and save myself. Clearly, today was going to be</p><p>nightmarish.</p><p>Driving to school, I distracted myself from my fear of falling and my unwanted</p><p>speculations about Edward Cullen by thinking about Mike and Eric, and the</p><p>obvious difference in how teenage boys responded to me here. I was sure I</p><p>looked exactly the same as I had in Phoenix. Maybe it was just that the boys</p><p>back home had watched me pass slowly through all the awkward phases of</p><p>adolescence and still thought of me that way. Perhaps it was because I was a</p><p>novelty here, where novelties were few and far between. Possibly my crippling</p><p>clumsiness was seen as endearing rather than pathetic, casting me as a damsel in</p><p>distress. Whatever the reason, Mike's puppy dog behavior and Eric's apparent</p><p>rivalry with him were disconcerting. I wasn't sure if I didn't prefer being ignored.</p><p>My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. I</p><p>drove very slowly, though, not wanting to carve a path of destruction through</p><p>Main Street.</p><p>When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had so little trouble.</p><p>Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the back of the truck —</p><p>carefully holding the side for support — to examine my tires. There were thin</p><p>chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Charlie had gotten up who</p><p>knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. My throat suddenly felt tight. I</p><p>wasn't used to being taken care of, and Charlie's unspoken concern caught me by</p><p>surprise.</p><p>I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the</p><p>sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd</p><p>sound.</p><p>It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I looked</p><p>up, startled.</p><p>I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, the</p><p>way it does in the movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain</p><p>work much faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.</p><p>Edward Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror.</p><p>His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. But</p><p>of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires</p><p>locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the</p><p>parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and I was standing</p><p>between them. I didn't even have time to close my eyes.</p><p>Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed,</p><p>something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. My head</p><p>cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold pinning me</p><p>to the ground. I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd parked next to.</p><p>But I didn't have a chance to notice anything else, because the van was still</p><p>coming. It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning</p><p>and sliding, was about to collide with me again.</p><p>A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice was</p><p>impossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot out protectively in front</p><p>of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the large hands</p><p>fitting providentially into a deep dent in the side of the van's body.</p><p>Then his hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the</p><p>body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like</p><p>a rag doll's, till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt my</p><p>ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt — exactly where, a</p><p>second ago, my legs had been.</p><p>It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the</p><p>abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more</p><p>clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edward Cullen's low, frantic voice in my</p><p>ear.</p><p>"Bella? Are you all right?"</p><p>"I'm fine." My voice sounded strange. I tried to sit up, and realized he was</p><p>holding me against the side of his body in an iron grasp.</p><p>"Be careful," he warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."</p><p>I became aware of a throbbing ache centered above my left ear.</p><p>"Ow," I said, surprised.</p><p>"That's what I thought." His voice, amazingly, sounded like he was suppressing</p><p>laughter.</p><p>"How in the…" I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings. "How did</p><p>you get over here so fast?"</p><p>"I was standing right next to you, Bella," he said, his tone serious again.</p><p>I turned to sit up, and this time he let me, releasing his hold around my waist and</p><p>sliding as far from me as he could in the limited space. I looked at his concerned,</p><p>innocent expression and was disoriented again by the force of his gold-colored</p><p>eyes. What was I asking him?</p><p>And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their</p><p>faces, shouting at each other, shouting at us.</p><p>"Don't move," someone instructed.</p><p>"Get Tyler out of the van!" someone else shouted.</p><p>There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Edward's cold hand</p><p>pushed my shoulder down.</p><p>"Just stay put for now."</p><p>"But it's cold," I complained. It surprised me when he chuckled under his breath.</p><p>There was an edge to the sound.</p><p>"You were over there," I suddenly remembered, and his chuckle stopped short.</p><p>"You were by your car."</p><p>His expression turned hard. "No, I wasn't."</p><p>"I saw you." All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffer voices of adults</p><p>arriving on the scene. But I obstinately held on to our argument; I was right, and</p><p>he was going to admit it.</p><p>"Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." He unleashed</p><p>the full, devastating power of his eyes on me, as if trying to communicate</p><p>something crucial.</p><p>"No." I set my jaw.</p><p>The gold in his eyes blazed. "Please, Bella."</p><p>"Why?" I demanded.</p><p>"Trust me," he pleaded, his soft voice overwhelming.</p><p>I could hear the sirens now. "Will you promise to explain everything to me</p><p>later?"</p><p>"Fine," he snapped, abruptly exasperated.</p><p>"Fine," I repeated angrily.</p><p>It took six EMTs and two teachers — Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp — to shift</p><p>the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edward vehemently</p><p>refused his, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I'd hit my head</p><p>and probably had a concussion. I almost died of humiliation when they put on</p><p>the neck brace. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as</p><p>they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Edward got to ride in the front. It</p><p>was maddening.</p><p>To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get me safely</p><p>away.</p><p>"Bella!" he yelled in panic when he recognized me on the stretcher.</p><p>"I'm completely fine, Char — Dad," I sighed. "There's nothing wrong with me."</p><p>He turned to the closest EMT for a second opinion. I tuned him out to consider</p><p>the jumble of inexplicable images churning chaotically in my head. When they'd</p><p>lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper — a</p><p>very distinct dent that fit the contours of Edward's shoulders… as if he had</p><p>braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame…</p><p>And then there was his family, looking on from the distance, with expressions</p><p>that ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their</p><p>brother's safety.</p><p>I tried to think of</p><p>a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen — a</p><p>solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane.</p><p>Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital. I felt</p><p>ridiculous the whole time they were unloading me. What made it worse was that</p><p>Edward simply glided through the hospital doors under his own power. I ground</p><p>my teeth together.</p><p>They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated</p><p>by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a</p><p>thermometer under my tongue. Since no one bothered pulling the curtain around</p><p>to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn't obligated to wear the stupid-looking</p><p>neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, I quickly unfastened the</p><p>Velcro and threw it under the bed.</p><p>There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the</p><p>bed next to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from my Government class beneath</p><p>the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. Tyler looked a</p><p>hundred times worse than I felt. But he was staring anxiously at me.</p><p>"Bella, I'm so sorry!"</p><p>"I'm fine, Tyler — you look awful, are you all right?" As we spoke, nurses began</p><p>unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his</p><p>forehead and left cheek.</p><p>He ignored me. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit</p><p>the ice wrong…" He winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.</p><p>"Don't worry about it; you missed me."</p><p>"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were</p><p>gone…"</p><p>"Umm… Edward pulled me out of the way."</p><p>He looked confused. "Who?"</p><p>"Edward Cullen — he was standing next to me." I'd always been a terrible liar; I</p><p>didn't sound convincing at all.</p><p>"Cullen? I didn't see him… wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is he okay?"</p><p>"I think so. He's here somewhere, but they didn't make him use a stretcher."</p><p>I knew I wasn't crazy. What had happened? There was no way to explain away</p><p>what I'd seen.</p><p>They wheeled me away then, to X-ray my head. I told them there was nothing</p><p>wrong, and I was right. Not even a concussion. I asked if I could leave, but the</p><p>nurse said I had to talk to a doctor first. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting,</p><p>harassed by Tyler's constant apologies and promises to make it up to me. No</p><p>matter how many times I tried to convince him I was fine, he continued to</p><p>torment himself. Finally, I closed my eyes and ignored him. He kept up a</p><p>remorseful mumbling.</p><p>"Is she sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open.</p><p>Edward was standing at the foot of my bed, smirking. I glared at him. It wasn't</p><p>easy — it would have been more natural to ogle.</p><p>"Hey, Edward, I'm really sorry —" Tyler began.</p><p>Edward lifted a hand to stop him.</p><p>"No blood, no foul," he said, flashing his brilliant teeth. He moved to sit on the</p><p>edge of Tyler's bed, facing me. He smirked again.</p><p>"So, what's the verdict?" he asked me.</p><p>"There's nothing wrong with me at all, but they won't let me go," I complained.</p><p>"How come you aren't strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"</p><p>"It's all about who you know," he answered. "But don't worry, I came to spring</p><p>you."</p><p>Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was young,</p><p>he was blond… and he was handsomer than any movie star I'd ever seen. He was</p><p>pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Charlie's</p><p>description, this had to be Edward's father.</p><p>"So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice, "how are you</p><p>feeling?"</p><p>"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped.</p><p>He walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head, and turned it on.</p><p>"Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Edward said you hit it</p><p>pretty hard."</p><p>"It's fine," I repeated with a sigh, throwing a quick scowl toward Edward.</p><p>The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when I</p><p>winced.</p><p>"Tender?" he asked.</p><p>"Not really." I'd had worse.</p><p>I heard a chuckle, and looked over to see Edward's patronizing smile. My eyes</p><p>narrowed.</p><p>"Well, your father is in the waiting room — you can go home with him now. But</p><p>come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all."</p><p>"Can't I go back to school?" I asked, imagining Charlie trying to be attentive.</p><p>"Maybe you should take it easy today."</p><p>I glanced at Edward. "Does he get to go to school?"</p><p>"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Edward said smugly.</p><p>"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting</p><p>room."</p><p>"Oh no," I moaned, covering my face with my hands.</p><p>Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?"</p><p>"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping</p><p>down quickly. Too quickly — I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked</p><p>concerned.</p><p>"I'm fine," I assured him again. No need to tell him my balance problems had</p><p>nothing to do with hitting my head.</p><p>"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied me.</p><p>"It doesn't hurt that bad," I insisted.</p><p>"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed</p><p>my chart with a flourish.</p><p>"Lucky Edward happened to be standing next to me," I amended with a hard</p><p>glance at the subject of my statement.</p><p>"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of</p><p>him. Then he looked away, at Tyler, and walked to the next bed. My intuition</p><p>flickered; the doctor was in on it.</p><p>"I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with us just a little bit longer," he said to</p><p>Tyler, and began checking his cuts.</p><p>As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I moved to Edward's side.</p><p>"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I hissed under my breath. He took a step back</p><p>from me, his jaw suddenly clenched.</p><p>"Your father is waiting for you," he said through his teeth.</p><p>I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler.</p><p>"I'd like to speak with you alone, if you don't mind," I pressed.</p><p>He glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room. I nearly had</p><p>to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun</p><p>around to face me.</p><p>"What do you want?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold.</p><p>His unfriendliness intimidated me. My words came out with less severity than I'd</p><p>intended. "You owe me an explanation," I reminded him.</p><p>"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything."</p><p>I flinched back from the resentment in his voice. "You promised."</p><p>"Bella, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." His tone</p><p>was cutting.</p><p>My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at him. "There's nothing wrong</p><p>with my head."</p><p>He glared back. "What do you want from me, Bella?"</p><p>"I want to know the truth," I said. "I want to know why I'm lying for you."</p><p>"What do you think happened?" he snapped.</p><p>It came out in a rush.</p><p>"All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me — Tyler didn't see you, either,</p><p>so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both —</p><p>and it didn't, and your hands left dents in the side of it — and you left a dent in</p><p>the other car, and you're not hurt at all — and the van should have smashed my</p><p>legs, but you were holding it up…" I could hear how crazy it sounded, and I</p><p>couldn't continue. I was so mad I could feel the tears coming; I tried to force</p><p>them back by grinding my teeth together.</p><p>He was staring at me incredulously. But his face was tense, defensive.</p><p>"You think I lifted a van off you?" His tone questioned my sanity, but it only</p><p>made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor.</p><p>I merely nodded once, jaw tight.</p><p>"Nobody will believe that, you know." His voice held an edge of derision now.</p><p>"I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word slowly, carefully controlling</p><p>my anger.</p><p>Surprise flitted across his face. "Then why does it matter?"</p><p>"It matters to me," I insisted. "I don't like to lie — so there'd better be a good</p><p>reason why I'm doing it."</p><p>"Can't you just thank me and</p><p>get over it?"</p><p>"Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant.</p><p>"You're not going to let it go, are you?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"In that case… I hope you enjoy disappointment."</p><p>We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep</p><p>myself focused. I was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It</p><p>was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.</p><p>"Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly.</p><p>He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly</p><p>vulnerable.</p><p>"I don't know," he whispered.</p><p>And then he turned his back on me and walked away.</p><p>I was so angry, it took me a few minutes until I could move. When I could walk,</p><p>I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway.</p><p>The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemed like every face</p><p>I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Charlie rushed to my side; I put up my</p><p>hands.</p><p>"There's nothing wrong with me," I assured him sullenly. I was still aggravated,</p><p>not in the mood for chitchat.</p><p>"What did the doctor say?"</p><p>"Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home." I sighed. Mike</p><p>and Jessica and Eric were all there, beginning to converge on us. "Let's go," I</p><p>urged.</p><p>Charlie put one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and led me to the</p><p>glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends, hoping to convey that</p><p>they didn't need to worry anymore. It was a huge relief— the first time I'd ever</p><p>felt that way — to get into the cruiser.</p><p>We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew</p><p>Charlie was there. I was positive that Edward's defensive behavior in the hall</p><p>was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could hardly believe I'd witnessed.</p><p>When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke.</p><p>"Um… you'll need to call Renée." He hung his head, guilty.</p><p>I was appalled. "You told Mom!"</p><p>"Sorry."</p><p>I slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out.</p><p>My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least thirty</p><p>times before she would calm down. She begged me to come home — forgetting</p><p>the fact that home was empty at the moment — but her pleas were easier to resist</p><p>than I would have thought. I was consumed by the mystery Edward presented.</p><p>And more than a little obsessed by Edward himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I</p><p>wasn't as eager to escape Forks as I should be, as any normal, sane person would</p><p>be.</p><p>I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Charlie continued to watch</p><p>me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves. I stopped on my way to grab</p><p>three Tylenol from the bathroom. They did help, and, as the pain eased, I drifted</p><p>to sleep.</p><p>That was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.</p><p>4. INVITATIONS</p><p>In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be</p><p>radiating from Edward's skin. I couldn't see his face, just his back as he walked</p><p>away from me, leaving me in the blackness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn't</p><p>catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, he never turned. Troubled, I woke</p><p>in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very</p><p>long time. After that, he was in my dreams nearly every night, but always on the</p><p>periphery, never within reach.</p><p>The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first,</p><p>embarrassing.</p><p>To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week.</p><p>Tyler Crowley was impossible, following me around, obsessed with making</p><p>amends to me somehow. I tried to convince him what I wanted more than</p><p>anything else was for him to forget all about it — especially since nothing had</p><p>actually happened to me — but he remained insistent. He followed me between</p><p>classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. Mike and Eric were even less</p><p>friendly toward him than they were to each other, which made me worry that I'd</p><p>gained another unwelcome fan.</p><p>No one seemed concerned about Edward, though I explained over and over that</p><p>he was the hero — how he had pulled me out of the way and had nearly been</p><p>crushed, too. I tried to be convincing. Jessica, Mike, Eric, and everyone else</p><p>always commented that they hadn't even seen him there till the van was pulled</p><p>away.</p><p>I wondered to myself why no one else had seen him standing so far away, before</p><p>he was suddenly, impossibly saving my life. With chagrin, I realized the</p><p>probable cause — no one else was as aware of Edward as I always was. No one</p><p>else watched him the way I did. How pitiful.</p><p>Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his</p><p>firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Cullens and the Hales sat at</p><p>the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of</p><p>them, especially Edward, glanced my way anymore.</p><p>When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he</p><p>seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists</p><p>would suddenly ball up — skin stretched even whiter over the bones — did I</p><p>wonder if he wasn't quite as oblivious as he appeared.</p><p>He wished he hadn't pulled me from the path of Tyler's van — there was no</p><p>other conclusion I could come to.</p><p>I wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident I tried. The last</p><p>time I'd seen him, outside the ER, we'd both been so furious. I still was angry</p><p>that he wouldn't trust me with the truth, even though I was keeping my part of</p><p>the bargain flawlessly. But he had in fact saved my life, no matter how he'd done</p><p>it. And, overnight, the heat of my anger faded into awed gratitude.</p><p>He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down,</p><p>expecting him to turn toward me. He showed no sign that he realized I was there.</p><p>"Hello, Edward," I said pleasantly, to show him I was going to behave myself.</p><p>He turned his head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, nodded once,</p><p>and then looked the other way.</p><p>And that was the last contact I'd had with him, though he was there, a foot away</p><p>from me, every day. I watched him sometimes, unable to stop myself— from a</p><p>distance, though, in the cafeteria or parking lot. I watched as his golden eyes</p><p>grew perceptibly darker day by day. But in class I gave no more notice that he</p><p>existed than he showed toward me. I was miserable. And the dreams continued.</p><p>Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my e-mails alerted Renée to my depression,</p><p>and she called a few times, worried. I tried to convince her it was just the</p><p>weather that had me down.</p><p>Mike, at least, was pleased by the obvious coolness between me and my lab</p><p>partner. I could see he'd been worried that Edward's daring rescue might have</p><p>impressed me, and he was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect. He</p><p>grew more confident, sitting on the edge of my table to talk before Biology class</p><p>started, ignoring Edward as completely as he ignored us.</p><p>The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Mike was</p><p>disappointed he'd never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but pleased that the</p><p>beach trip would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the</p><p>weeks passed.</p><p>Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon — she called</p><p>the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike to the girls'</p><p>choice spring dance in two weeks.</p><p>"Are you sure you don't mind… you weren't planning to ask him?" she persisted</p><p>when I told her I didn't mind in the least.</p><p>"No, Jess, I'm not going," I assured her. Dancing was glaringly outside my range</p><p>of abilities.</p><p>"It will be really fun." Her attempt to convince me was halfhearted. I suspected</p><p>that Jessica enjoyed my inexplicable popularity more than my actual company.</p><p>"You have fun with Mike," I encouraged.</p><p>The next day, I was surprised that Jessica wasn't her usual gushing self in Trig</p><p>and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by my side between classes, and I was</p><p>afraid to ask her why. If Mike had turned her down, I was the last person</p><p>she</p><p>would want to tell.</p><p>My fears were strengthened during lunch when Jessica sat as far from Mike as</p><p>possible, chatting animatedly with Eric. Mike was unusually quiet.</p><p>Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face</p><p>a bad sign. But he didn't broach the subject until I was in my seat and he was</p><p>perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically aware of Edward sitting close</p><p>enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely an invention of my imagination.</p><p>"So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to the spring dance."</p><p>"That's great." I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. "You'll have a lot of fun</p><p>with Jessica."</p><p>"Well…" He floundered as he examined my smile, clearly not happy with my</p><p>response. "I told her I had to think about it."</p><p>"Why would you do that?" I let disapproval color my tone, though I was relieved</p><p>he hadn't given her an absolute no.</p><p>His face was bright red as he looked down again. Pity shook my resolve.</p><p>"I was wondering if… well, if you might be planning to ask me."</p><p>I paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept through me. But I</p><p>saw, from the corner of my eye, Edward's head tilt reflexively in my direction.</p><p>"Mike, I think you should tell her yes," I said.</p><p>"Did you already ask someone?" Did Edward notice how Mike's eyes flickered</p><p>in his direction?</p><p>"No," I assured him. "I'm not going to the dance at all."</p><p>"Why not?" Mike demanded.</p><p>I didn't want to get into the safety hazards that dancing presented, so I quickly</p><p>made new plans.</p><p>"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. I needed to get out of town</p><p>anyway — it was suddenly the perfect time to go.</p><p>"Can't you go some other weekend?"</p><p>"Sorry, no," I said. "So you shouldn't make Jess wait any longer — it's rude."</p><p>"Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, and turned, dejected, to walk back to his seat.</p><p>I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the guilt</p><p>and sympathy out of my head. Mr. Banner began talking. I sighed and opened</p><p>my eyes.</p><p>And Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration</p><p>even more distinct now in his black eyes.</p><p>I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead he</p><p>continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. There was no question of</p><p>me looking away. My hands started to shake.</p><p>"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn't</p><p>heard.</p><p>"The Krebs Cycle," Edward answered, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at</p><p>Mr. Banner.</p><p>I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me, trying to find my</p><p>place. Cowardly as ever, I shifted my hair over my right shoulder to hide my</p><p>face. I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me — just because</p><p>he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. I couldn't</p><p>allow him to have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than</p><p>pathetic, it was unhealthy.</p><p>I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and, since that</p><p>was impossible, at least not to let him know that I was aware of him. When the</p><p>bell rang at last, I turned my back to him to gather my things, expecting him to</p><p>leave immediately as usual.</p><p>"Bella?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known the</p><p>sound of it all my life rather than for just a few short weeks.</p><p>I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn't want to feel what I knew I would feel when</p><p>I looked at his too-perfect face. My expression was wary when I finally turned to</p><p>him; his expression was unreadable. He didn't say anything.</p><p>"What? Are you speaking to me again?" I finally asked, an unintentional note of</p><p>petulance in my voice.</p><p>His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.</p><p>I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting</p><p>my teeth. He waited.</p><p>"Then what do you want, Edward?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was</p><p>easier to talk to him coherently that way.</p><p>"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this</p><p>way, really."</p><p>I opened my eyes. His face was very serious.</p><p>"I don't know what you mean," I said, my voice guarded.</p><p>"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."</p><p>My eyes narrowed. I'd heard that before.</p><p>"It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," I hissed through my teeth. "You</p><p>could have saved yourself all this regret."</p><p>"Regret?" The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret for</p><p>what?"</p><p>"For not just letting that stupid van squish me."</p><p>He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief.</p><p>When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your</p><p>life?"</p><p>"I know you do," I snapped.</p><p>"You don't know anything." He was definitely mad.</p><p>I turned my head sharply away from him, clenching my jaw against all the wild</p><p>accusations I wanted to hurl at him. I gathered my books together, then stood</p><p>and walked to the door. I meant to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of</p><p>course I caught the toe of my boot on the door jamb and dropped my books. I</p><p>stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then I sighed and bent to</p><p>pick them up. He was there; he'd already stacked them into a pile. He handed</p><p>them to me, his face hard.</p><p>"Thank you," I said icily.</p><p>His eyes narrowed.</p><p>"You're welcome," he retorted.</p><p>I straightened up swiftly, turned away from him again, and stalked off to Gym</p><p>without looking back.</p><p>Gym was brutal. We'd moved on to basketball. My team never passed me the</p><p>ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people with me.</p><p>Today I was worse than usual because my head was so filled with Edward. I</p><p>tried to concentrate on my feet, but he kept creeping back into my thoughts just</p><p>when I really needed my balance.</p><p>It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck; there were just so</p><p>many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in</p><p>the accident. I'd had to replace the taillights, and if I'd had a real paint job, I</p><p>would have touched that up. Tyler's parents had to sell their van for parts.</p><p>I almost had a stroke when I rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure</p><p>leaning against the side of my truck. Then I realized it was just Eric. I started</p><p>walking again.</p><p>"Hey, Eric," I called.</p><p>"Hi, Bella."</p><p>"What's up?" I said as I was unlocking the door. I wasn't paying attention to the</p><p>uncomfortable edge in his voice, so his next words took me by surprise.</p><p>"Uh, I was just wondering… if you would go to the spring dance with me?" His</p><p>voice broke on the last word.</p><p>"I thought it was girls' choice," I said, too startled to be diplomatic.</p><p>"Well, yeah," he admitted, shamefaced.</p><p>I recovered my composure and tried to make my smile warm. "Thank you for</p><p>asking me, but I'm going to be in Seattle that day."</p><p>"Oh," he said. "Well, maybe next time."</p><p>"Sure," I agreed, and then bit my lip. I wouldn't want him to take that too</p><p>literally.</p><p>He slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle.</p><p>Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips</p><p>pressed together. I yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly</p><p>behind me. I revved the engine deafeningly and reversed out into the aisle.</p><p>Edward was in his car already, two spaces down, sliding out smoothly in front of</p><p>me, cutting me off. He stopped there — to wait for his family; I could see the</p><p>four of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria. I considered taking out</p><p>the rear of his shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. I looked in my</p><p>rearview mirror. A line was beginning to form. Directly behind me, Tyler</p><p>Crowley was in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I was too aggravated</p><p>to acknowledge him.</p><p>While I was sitting there, looking everywhere but at the car in front of me, I</p><p>heard a knock on my passenger side window. I looked over; it was Tyler. I</p><p>glanced back in my rearview mirror, confused. His car was</p><p>still running, the</p><p>door left open. I leaned across the cab to crank the window down. It was stiff. I</p><p>got it halfway down, then gave up.</p><p>"I'm sorry, Tyler, I'm stuck behind Cullen." I was annoyed — obviously the</p><p>holdup wasn't my fault.</p><p>"Oh, I know — I just wanted to ask you something while we're trapped here." He</p><p>grinned.</p><p>This could not be happening.</p><p>"Will you ask me to the spring dance?" he continued.</p><p>"I'm not going to be in town, Tyler." My voice sounded a little sharp. I had to</p><p>remember it wasn't his fault that Mike and Eric had already used up my quota of</p><p>patience for the day.</p><p>"Yeah, Mike said that," he admitted.</p><p>"Then why —"</p><p>He shrugged. "I was hoping you were just letting him down easy."</p><p>Okay, it was completely his fault.</p><p>"Sorry, Tyler," I said, working to hide my irritation. "I really am going out of</p><p>town."</p><p>"That's cool. We still have prom."</p><p>And before I could respond, he was walking back to his car. I could feel the</p><p>shock on my face. I looked forward to see Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all</p><p>sliding into the Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Edward's eyes were on me. He</p><p>was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he'd heard every word Tyler had</p><p>said. My foot itched toward the gas pedal… one little bump wouldn't hurt any of</p><p>them, just that glossy silver paint job. I revved the engine.</p><p>But they were all in, and Edward was speeding away. I drove home slowly,</p><p>carefully, muttering to myself the whole way.</p><p>When I got home, I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner. It was a long</p><p>process, and it would keep me busy. While I was simmering the onions and</p><p>chilies, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Charlie</p><p>or my mom.</p><p>It was Jessica, and she was jubilant; Mike had caught her after school to accept</p><p>her invitation. I celebrated with her briefly while I stirred. She had to go, she</p><p>wanted to call Angela and Lauren to tell them. I suggested — with casual</p><p>innocence — that maybe Angela, the shy girl who had Biology with me, could</p><p>ask Eric. And Lauren, a standoffish girl who had always ignored me at the lunch</p><p>table, could ask Tyler; I'd heard he was still available. Jess thought that was a</p><p>great idea. Now that she was sure of Mike, she actually sounded sincere when</p><p>she said she wished I would go to the dance. I gave her my Seattle excuse.</p><p>After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner — dicing the chicken especially;</p><p>I didn't want to take another trip to the emergency room. But my head was</p><p>spinning, trying to analyze every word Edward had spoken today. What did he</p><p>mean, it was better if we weren't friends?</p><p>My stomach twisted as I realized what he must have meant. He must see how</p><p>absorbed I was by him; he must not want to lead me on… so we couldn't even be</p><p>friends… because he wasn't interested in me at all.</p><p>Of course he wasn't interested in me, I thought angrily, my eyes stinging — a</p><p>delayed reaction to the onions. I wasn't interesting. And he was. Interesting…</p><p>and brilliant… and mysterious… and perfect… and beautiful… and possibly</p><p>able to lift full-sized vans with one hand.</p><p>Well, that was fine. I could leave him alone. I would leave him alone. I would</p><p>get through my self-imposed sentence here in purgatory, and then hopefully</p><p>some school in the Southwest, or possibly Hawaii, would offer me a scholarship.</p><p>I focused my thoughts on sunny beaches and palm trees as I finished the</p><p>enchiladas and put them in the oven.</p><p>Charlie seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I</p><p>couldn't blame him — the closest edible Mexican food was probably in southern</p><p>California. But he was a cop, even if just a small-town cop, so he was brave</p><p>enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch as he</p><p>slowly began trusting me in the kitchen.</p><p>"Dad?" I asked when he was almost done.</p><p>"Yeah, Bella?"</p><p>"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Seattle for the day a week</p><p>from Saturday… if that's okay?" I didn't want to ask permission — it set a bad</p><p>precedent — but I felt rude, so I tacked it on at the end.</p><p>"Why?" He sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that</p><p>Forks couldn't offer.</p><p>"Well, I wanted to get few books — the library here is pretty limited — and</p><p>maybe look at some clothes." I had more money than I was used to having,</p><p>since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn't had to pay for a car. Not that the truck didn't</p><p>cost me quite a bit in the gas department.</p><p>"That truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage," he said, echoing my</p><p>thoughts.</p><p>"I know, I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia — and Tacoma if I have to."</p><p>"Are you going all by yourself?" he asked, and I couldn't tell if he was</p><p>suspicious I had a secret boyfriend or just worried about car trouble.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Seattle is a big city — you could get lost," he fretted.</p><p>"Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle — and I can read a map, don't</p><p>worry about it."</p><p>"Do you want me to come with you?"</p><p>I tried to be crafty as I hid my horror.</p><p>"That's all right, Dad, I'll probably just be in dressing rooms all day — very</p><p>boring."</p><p>"Oh, okay." The thought of sitting in women's clothing stores for any period of</p><p>time immediately put him off.</p><p>"Thanks." I smiled at him.</p><p>"Will you be back in time for the dance?"</p><p>Grrr. Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school</p><p>dances were.</p><p>"No — I don't dance, Dad." He, of all people, should understand that — I didn't</p><p>get my balance problems from my mother.</p><p>He did understand. "Oh, that's right," he realized.</p><p>The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far</p><p>as possible from the silver Volvo. I didn't want to put myself in the path of too</p><p>much temptation and end up owing him a new car. Getting out of the cab, I</p><p>fumbled with my key and it fell into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a</p><p>white hand flashed out and grabbed it before I could. I jerked upright. Edward</p><p>Cullen was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck.</p><p>"How do you do that?" I asked in amazed irritation.</p><p>"Do what?" He held my key out as he spoke. As I reached for it, he dropped it</p><p>into my palm.</p><p>"Appear out of thin air."</p><p>"Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." His voice was</p><p>quiet as usual — velvet, muted.</p><p>I scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, a deep, golden</p><p>honey color. Then I had to look down, to reassemble my now-tangled thoughts.</p><p>"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away. "I thought you</p><p>were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."</p><p>"That was for Tyler's sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance." He snickered.</p><p>"You…" I gasped. I couldn't think of a bad enough word. It felt like the heat of</p><p>my anger should physically burn him, but he only seemed more amused.</p><p>"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," he continued.</p><p>"So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler's van didn't do the job?"</p><p>Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of</p><p>humor gone.</p><p>"Bella, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.</p><p>My palms tingled — I wanted so badly to hit something. I was surprised at</p><p>myself. I was usually a nonviolent person. I turned my back and started to walk</p><p>away.</p><p>"Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he was</p><p>next to me, easily keeping pace.</p><p>"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I'm not saying it</p><p>isn't true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it, anyway."</p><p>"Why won't you leave me alone?" I grumbled.</p><p>"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled. He</p><p>seemed to have recovered his good humor.</p><p>"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" I asked severely.</p><p>"You're doing it again."</p><p>I sighed. "Fine then. What do you want to ask?"</p><p>"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday — you know, the day of the spring</p><p>dance —"</p><p>"Are you trying to be funny?" I interrupted him, wheeling</p><p>toward him. My face</p><p>got drenched as I looked up at his expression.</p><p>His eyes were wickedly amused. "Will you please allow me to finish?"</p><p>I bit my lip and clasped my hands together, interlocking my fingers, so I couldn't</p><p>do anything rash.</p><p>"I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you</p><p>wanted a ride."</p><p>That was unexpected.</p><p>"What?" I wasn't sure what he was getting at.</p><p>"Do you want a ride to Seattle?"</p><p>"With who?" I asked, mystified.</p><p>"Myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talking to</p><p>someone mentally handicapped.</p><p>I was still stunned. "Why?"</p><p>"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest,</p><p>I'm not sure if your truck can make it."</p><p>"My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern." I started to</p><p>walk again, but I was too surprised to maintain the same level of anger.</p><p>"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace</p><p>again.</p><p>"I don't see how that is any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.</p><p>"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."</p><p>"Honestly, Edward." I felt a thrill go through me as I said his name, and I hated</p><p>it. "I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."</p><p>"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."</p><p>"Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up." Heavy sarcasm. I realized I had stopped</p><p>walking again. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so I could</p><p>more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn't help my clarity of thought.</p><p>"It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But</p><p>I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."</p><p>His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his voice</p><p>smoldering. I couldn't remember how to breathe.</p><p>"Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked, still intense.</p><p>I couldn't speak yet, so I just nodded.</p><p>He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious.</p><p>"You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."</p><p>He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.</p><p>5. BLOOD TYPE</p><p>I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in</p><p>that class had already started.</p><p>"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone.</p><p>I flushed and hurried to my seat.</p><p>It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next</p><p>to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual,</p><p>so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven. Mike seemed to become more himself as</p><p>we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this</p><p>weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach</p><p>trip would be possible. I tried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing him</p><p>yesterday. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if</p><p>we were lucky.</p><p>The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe that I hadn't</p><p>just imagined what Edward had said, and the way his eyes had looked. Maybe it</p><p>was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed</p><p>more probable than that I really appealed to him on any level.</p><p>So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted</p><p>to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person I'd known</p><p>for the last several weeks. Or if, by some miracle, I'd really heard what I thought</p><p>I'd heard this morning. Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans —</p><p>Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together —</p><p>completely unaware of my inattention.</p><p>Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes unerringly focused on his table.</p><p>The other four were there, but he was absent. Had he gone home? I followed the</p><p>still-babbling Jessica through the line, crushed. I'd lost my appetite — I bought</p><p>nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to go sit down and sulk.</p><p>"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, finally breaking through</p><p>my abstraction with his name. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today."</p><p>My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Edward, smiling crookedly,</p><p>staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat.</p><p>Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger</p><p>for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked.</p><p>"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice.</p><p>"Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," I muttered for her benefit.</p><p>"Um, I'd better go see what he wants."</p><p>I could feel her staring after me as I walked away.</p><p>When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him, unsure.</p><p>"Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling.</p><p>I sat down automatically, watching him with caution. He was still smiling. It was</p><p>hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real. I was afraid that he</p><p>might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up.</p><p>He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.</p><p>"This is different," I finally managed.</p><p>"Well…" He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I</p><p>decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."</p><p>I waited for him to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by.</p><p>"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out.</p><p>"I know." He smiled again, and then he changed the subject. "I think your friends</p><p>are angry with me for stealing you."</p><p>"They'll survive." I could feel their stares boring into my back.</p><p>"I may not give you back, though," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes.</p><p>I gulped.</p><p>He laughed. "You look worried."</p><p>"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "Surprised, actually… what</p><p>brought all this on?"</p><p>"I told you — I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." He</p><p>was still smiling, but his ocher eyes were serious.</p><p>"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.</p><p>"Yes — giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and</p><p>let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as he explained, and a hard</p><p>edge crept into his voice.</p><p>"You lost me again."</p><p>The breathtaking crooked smile reappeared.</p><p>"I always say too much when I'm talking to you — that's one of the problems."</p><p>"Don't worry — I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.</p><p>"I'm counting on that."</p><p>"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"</p><p>"Friends…" he mused, dubious.</p><p>"Or not," I muttered.</p><p>He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not</p><p>a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.</p><p>"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in my</p><p>stomach and keep my voice even.</p><p>"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If</p><p>you're smart, you'll avoid me."</p><p>"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." My</p><p>eyes narrowed.</p><p>He smiled apologetically.</p><p>"So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum</p><p>up the confusing exchange.</p><p>"That sounds about right."</p><p>I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what</p><p>to do now.</p><p>"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.</p><p>I looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out</p><p>the truth.</p><p>"I'm trying to figure out what you are."</p><p>His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort.</p><p>"Are you having any luck with that?" he asked in an offhand tone.</p><p>"Not too much," I admitted.</p><p>He chuckled. "What are your theories?"</p><p>I blushed. I had been vacillating during the last month between Bruce Wayne</p><p>and Peter Parker. There was no way I was going to own up to that.</p><p>"Won't you tell me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side with a shockingly</p><p>tempting smile.</p><p>I shook my head. "Too embarrassing."</p><p>"That's really frustrating, you know," he</p><p>complained.</p><p>"No," I disagreed quickly, my eyes narrowing, "I can't imagine why that would</p><p>be frustrating at all — just because someone refuses to tell you what they're</p><p>thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically</p><p>designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean…</p><p>now, why would that be frustrating?"</p><p>He grimaced.</p><p>"Or better," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "say that</p><p>person also did a wide range of bizarre things — from saving your life under</p><p>impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and he</p><p>never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be</p><p>very non-frustrating."</p><p>"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"</p><p>"I don't like double standards."</p><p>We stared at each other, unsmiling.</p><p>He glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you — he's debating</p><p>whether or not to come break up our fight." He snickered again.</p><p>"I don't know who you're talking about," I said frostily. "But I'm sure you're</p><p>wrong, anyway."</p><p>"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."</p><p>"Except me, of course."</p><p>"Yes. Except for you." His mood shifted suddenly; his eyes turned brooding. "I</p><p>wonder why that is."</p><p>I had to look away from the intensity of his stare. I concentrated on unscrewing</p><p>the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.</p><p>"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.</p><p>"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full — of</p><p>butterflies. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front of him.</p><p>"No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand his expression — it looked like he was</p><p>enjoying some private joke.</p><p>"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.</p><p>He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."</p><p>"It's not much," I assured him.</p><p>He waited, guarded but curious.</p><p>"I just wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to</p><p>ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." I looked at the lemonade</p><p>bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my pinkie finger.</p><p>"That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when</p><p>I looked up.</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>"Then can I have one answer in return?" he demanded.</p><p>"One."</p><p>"Tell me one theory."</p><p>Whoops. "Not that one."</p><p>"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," he reminded me.</p><p>"And you've broken promises yourself," I reminded him back.</p><p>"Just one theory — I won't laugh."</p><p>"Yes, you will." I was positive about that.</p><p>He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his long black lashes, his</p><p>ocher eyes scorching.</p><p>"Please?" he breathed, leaning toward me.</p><p>I blinked, my mind going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that?</p><p>"Er, what?" I asked, dazed.</p><p>"Please tell me just one little theory." His eyes still smoldered at me.</p><p>"Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?" Was he a hypnotist, too? Or was I</p><p>just a hopeless pushover?</p><p>"That's not very creative," he scoffed.</p><p>"I'm sorry, that's all I've got," I said, miffed.</p><p>"You're not even close," he teased.</p><p>"No spiders?"</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>"And no radioactivity?"</p><p>"None."</p><p>"Dang," I sighed.</p><p>"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," he chuckled.</p><p>"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"</p><p>He struggled to compose his face.</p><p>"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.</p><p>"I wish you wouldn't try." He was serious again.</p><p>"Because… ?"</p><p>"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but</p><p>his eyes were impenetrable.</p><p>"Oh," I said, as several things he'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."</p><p>"Do you?" His face was abruptly severe, as if he were afraid that he'd</p><p>accidentally said too much.</p><p>"You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the</p><p>truth of my own words. He was dangerous. He'd been trying to tell me that all</p><p>along.</p><p>He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.</p><p>"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're</p><p>bad."</p><p>"You're wrong." His voice was almost inaudible. He looked down, stealing my</p><p>bottle lid and then spinning it on its side between his fingers. I stared at him,</p><p>wondering why I didn't feel afraid. He meant what he was saying — that was</p><p>obvious. But I just felt anxious, on edge… and, more than anything else,</p><p>fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was near him.</p><p>The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.</p><p>I jumped to my feet. "We're going to be late."</p><p>"I'm not going to class today," he said, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He smiled up at me, but his eyes were</p><p>still troubled.</p><p>"Well, I'm going," I told him. I was far too big a coward to risk getting caught.</p><p>He turned his attention back to his makeshift top. "I'll see you later, then."</p><p>I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door — with a</p><p>last glance confirming that he hadn't moved a centimeter.</p><p>As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap. So few</p><p>questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had</p><p>been raised. At least the rain had stopped.</p><p>I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly</p><p>into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela were staring at me. Mike looked</p><p>resentful; Angela looked surprised, and slightly awed.</p><p>Mr. Banner came in the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a</p><p>few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Mike's table,</p><p>telling him to start passing them around the class.</p><p>"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he</p><p>produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled</p><p>them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists</p><p>seemed ominous to me. "The first should be an indicator card," he went on,</p><p>grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The</p><p>second is a four-pronged applicator —" he held up something that looked like a</p><p>nearly toothless hair pick "— and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held up</p><p>a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this</p><p>distance, but my stomach flipped.</p><p>"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please</p><p>don't start until I get to you." He began at Mike's table again, carefully putting</p><p>one drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully</p><p>prick your finger with the lancet…" He grabbed Mike's hand and jabbed the</p><p>spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger. Oh no. Clammy moisture broke out</p><p>across my forehead.</p><p>"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing</p><p>Mike's finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach</p><p>heaving.</p><p>"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for</p><p>us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears.</p><p>"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I</p><p>thought you should all know your blood type." He sounded proud of himself.</p><p>"Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission — I have</p><p>slips at my desk."</p><p>He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my cheek against the</p><p>cool black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I</p><p>could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their</p><p>fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth.</p><p>"Bella, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head,</p><p>and it sounded alarmed.</p><p>"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid</p><p>to raise my head.</p><p>"Are you feeling faint?"</p><p>"Yes, sir," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when I had the</p><p>chance.</p><p>"Can someone</p><p>take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called.</p><p>I didn't have to look up to know that it would be Mike who volunteered.</p><p>"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.</p><p>"Yes," I whispered. Just let me get out of here, I thought. I'll crawl.</p><p>Mike seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over</p><p>his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way out of the classroom.</p><p>Mike towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the</p><p>cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner was watching, I</p><p>stopped.</p><p>"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged.</p><p>He helped me sit on the edge of the walk.</p><p>"And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket," I warned. I was still so</p><p>dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp</p><p>cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes. That seemed to help a little.</p><p>"Wow, you're green, Bella," Mike said nervously.</p><p>"Bella?" a different voice called from the distance.</p><p>No! Please let me be imagining that horribly familiar voice.</p><p>"What's wrong — is she hurt?" His voice was closer now, and he sounded upset.</p><p>I wasn't imagining it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very</p><p>least, not to throw up.</p><p>Mike seemed stressed. "I think she's fainted. I don't know what happened, she</p><p>didn't even stick her finger."</p><p>"Bella." Edward's voice was right beside me, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"</p><p>"No," I groaned. "Go away."</p><p>He chuckled.</p><p>"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained in a defensive tone, "but she</p><p>wouldn't go any farther."</p><p>"I'll take her," Edward said. I could hear the smile still in his voice. "You can go</p><p>back to class."</p><p>"No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed to do it."</p><p>Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in</p><p>shock. Edward had scooped me up in his arms, as easily as if I weighed ten</p><p>pounds instead of a hundred and ten.</p><p>"Put me down!" Please, please let me not vomit on him. He was walking before I</p><p>was finished talking.</p><p>"Hey!" Mike called, already ten paces behind us.</p><p>Edward ignored him. "You look awful," he told me, grinning.</p><p>"Put me back on the sidewalk," I moaned. The rocking movement of his walk</p><p>was not helping. He held me away from his body, gingerly, supporting all my</p><p>weight with just his arms — it didn't seem to bother him.</p><p>"So you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked. This seemed to entertain him.</p><p>I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and fought the nausea with all my</p><p>strength, clamping my lips together.</p><p>"And not even your own blood," he continued, enjoying himself.</p><p>I don't know how he opened the door while carrying me, but it was suddenly</p><p>warm, so I knew we were inside.</p><p>"Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.</p><p>"She fainted in Biology," Edward explained.</p><p>I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Edward was striding past the front</p><p>counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office</p><p>receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked</p><p>up from a novel, astonished, as Edward swung me into the room and placed me</p><p>gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one cot.</p><p>Then he moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as</p><p>possible. His eyes were bright, excited.</p><p>"She's just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in</p><p>Biology."</p><p>The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."</p><p>He muffled a snicker.</p><p>"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."</p><p>"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.</p><p>"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.</p><p>"Sometimes," I admitted. Edward coughed to hide another laugh.</p><p>"You can go back to class now," she told him.</p><p>"I'm supposed to stay with her." He said this with such assured authority that —</p><p>even though she pursed her lips — the nurse didn't argue it further.</p><p>"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then</p><p>bustled out of the room.</p><p>"You were right," I moaned, letting my eyes close.</p><p>"I usually am — but about what in particular this time?"</p><p>"Ditching is healthy." I practiced breathing evenly.</p><p>"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a pause. His tone made it</p><p>sound like he was confessing a humiliating weakness. "I thought Newton was</p><p>dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."</p><p>"Ha ha." I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every minute.</p><p>"Honestly — I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might</p><p>have to avenge your murder."</p><p>"Poor Mike. I'll bet he's mad."</p><p>"He absolutely loathes me," Edward said cheerfully.</p><p>"You can't know that," I argued, but then I wondered suddenly if he could.</p><p>"I saw his face — I could tell."</p><p>"How did you see me? I thought you were ditching." I was almost fine now,</p><p>though the queasiness would probably pass faster if I'd eaten something for</p><p>lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky my stomach was empty.</p><p>"I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response — it surprised me.</p><p>I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her</p><p>hand.</p><p>"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," she</p><p>added.</p><p>"I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in my ears, no spinning.</p><p>The mint green walls stayed where they should.</p><p>I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just</p><p>then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.</p><p>"We've got another one," she warned.</p><p>I hopped down to free up the cot for the next invalid.</p><p>I handed the compress back to the nurse. "Here, I don't need this."</p><p>And then Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee</p><p>Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Edward and I drew back against the</p><p>wall to give them room.</p><p>"Oh no," Edward muttered. "Go out to the office, Bella."</p><p>I looked up at him, bewildered.</p><p>"Trust me — go."</p><p>I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could</p><p>feel Edward right behind me.</p><p>"You actually listened to me." He was stunned.</p><p>"I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose. Lee wasn't sick from watching</p><p>other people, like me.</p><p>"People can't smell blood," he contradicted.</p><p>"Well, I can — that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt."</p><p>He was staring at me with an unfathomable expression.</p><p>"What?" I asked.</p><p>"It's nothing."</p><p>Mike came through the door then, glancing from me to Edward. The look he</p><p>gave Edward confirmed what Edward had said about loathing. He looked back at</p><p>me, his eyes glum.</p><p>"You look better," he accused.</p><p>"Just keep your hand in your pocket," I warned him again.</p><p>"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"</p><p>"Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn around and come back."</p><p>"Yeah, I guess… So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While he</p><p>spoke, he flashed another glare toward Edward, who was standing against the</p><p>cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.</p><p>I tried to sound as friendly as possible. "Sure, I said I was in."</p><p>"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edward again,</p><p>wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made</p><p>it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.</p><p>"I'll be there," I promised.</p><p>"I'll see you in Gym, then," he said, moving uncertainly toward the door.</p><p>"See you," I replied. He looked at me once more, his round face slightly pouting,</p><p>and then as he walked slowly through the door, his shoulders slumped. A swell</p><p>of sympathy washed over me. I pondered seeing his disappointed face again… in</p><p>Gym.</p><p>"Gym," I groaned.</p><p>"I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Edward moving to my side, but he</p><p>spoke now in my ear. "Go sit down and look pale," he muttered.</p><p>That wasn't a challenge; I was always pale, and my recent swoon had left a light</p><p>sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested</p><p>my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells always exhausted</p><p>me.</p><p>I heard Edward speaking softly at the counter.</p><p>"Ms. Cope?"</p><p>"Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.</p><p>"Bella has Gym next hour, and I don't think she feels well enough. Actually, I</p><p>was thinking I should take her home now. Do you think you could excuse her</p><p>from class?" His voice was like melting honey. I could imagine how much more</p><p>overwhelming his eyes would be.</p><p>"Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?" Ms. Cope fluttered. Why couldn't I</p><p>do that?</p><p>"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."</p><p>"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she called to me. I nodded</p><p>weakly, hamming it up just a bit.</p><p>"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With his back to the</p><p>receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.</p><p>"I'll walk."</p><p>I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held the door for me, his smile polite</p><p>but his eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to</p><p>fall. It felt nice — the first time I'd enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of</p><p>the sky — as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.</p><p>"Thanks," I said as he followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss</p><p>Gym."</p><p>"Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.</p><p>"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" I was hoping he would, though it</p><p>seemed unlikely. I couldn't picture him loading up to carpool with the rest of the</p><p>kids from school; he didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping that he</p><p>might gave me the first twinge of enthusiasm I'd felt for the outing.</p><p>"Where are you all going, exactly?" He was still looking ahead, expressionless.</p><p>"Down to La Push, to First Beach." I studied his face, trying to read it. His eyes</p><p>seemed to narrow infinitesimally.</p><p>He glanced down at me from the corner of his eye, smiling wryly. "I really don't</p><p>think I was invited."</p><p>I sighed. "I just invited you."</p><p>"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to</p><p>snap." His eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea more than he should.</p><p>"Mike-schmike." I muttered, preoccupied by the way he'd said "you and I." I</p><p>liked it more than I should.</p><p>We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck. Something</p><p>caught my jacket, yanking me back.</p><p>"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, outraged. He was gripping a</p><p>fistful of my jacket in one hand.</p><p>I was confused. "I'm going home."</p><p>"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to</p><p>let you drive in your condition?" His voice was still indignant.</p><p>"What condition? And what about my truck?" I complained.</p><p>"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." He was towing me toward his car now,</p><p>pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward.</p><p>He'd probably just drag me along anyway if I did.</p><p>"Let go!" I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet</p><p>sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me — I stumbled</p><p>against the passenger door.</p><p>"You are so pushy!" I grumbled.</p><p>"It's open," was all he responded. He got in the driver's side.</p><p>"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!" I stood by the car, fuming. It</p><p>was raining harder now, and I'd never put my hood up, so my hair was dripping</p><p>down my back.</p><p>He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in,</p><p>Bella."</p><p>I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the truck</p><p>before he could catch me. I had to admit, they weren't good.</p><p>"I'll just drag you back," he threatened, guessing my plan.</p><p>I tried to maintain what dignity I could as I got into his car. I wasn't very</p><p>successful — I looked like a half-drowned cat and my boots squeaked.</p><p>"This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly.</p><p>He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the</p><p>music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give him the</p><p>silent treatment — my face in full pout mode — but then I recognized the music</p><p>playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.</p><p>"Clair de Lune?" I asked, surprised.</p><p>"You know Debussy?" He sounded surprised, too.</p><p>"Not well," I admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the</p><p>house — I only know my favorites."</p><p>"It's one of my favorites, too." He stared out through the rain, lost in thought.</p><p>I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was</p><p>impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred</p><p>everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize</p><p>we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn't</p><p>feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.</p><p>"What is your mother like?" he asked me suddenly.</p><p>I glanced over to see him studying me with curious eyes.</p><p>"She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," I said. He raised his eyebrows. "I</p><p>have too much Charlie in me. She's more outgoing than I am, and braver. She's</p><p>irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's</p><p>my best friend." I stopped. Talking about her was making me depressed.</p><p>"How old are you, Bella?" His voice sounded frustrated for some reason I</p><p>couldn't imagine. He'd stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie's house</p><p>already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the house at all. It was like</p><p>the car was submerged under a river.</p><p>"I'm seventeen," I responded, a little confused.</p><p>"You don't seem seventeen."</p><p>His tone was reproachful; it made me laugh.</p><p>"What?" he asked, curious again.</p><p>"My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more</p><p>middle-aged every year." I laughed, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be</p><p>the adult." I paused for a second. "You don't seem much like a junior in high</p><p>school yourself," I noted.</p><p>He made a face and changed the subject.</p><p>"So why did your mother marry Phil?"</p><p>I was surprised he would remember the name; I'd mentioned it just once, almost</p><p>two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.</p><p>"My mother… she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even</p><p>younger. At any rate, she's crazy about him." I shook my head. The attraction</p><p>was a mystery to me.</p><p>"Do you approve?" he asked.</p><p>"Does it matter?" I countered. "I want her to be happy… and he is who she</p><p>wants."</p><p>"That's very generous… I wonder," he mused.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your</p><p>choice was?" He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching mine.</p><p>"I-I think so," I stuttered. "But she's the parent, after all. It's a little bit different."</p><p>"No one too scary then," he teased.</p><p>I grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings</p><p>and extensive tattoos?"</p><p>"That's one definition, I suppose."</p><p>"What's your definition?"</p><p>But he ignored my question and asked me another. "Do you think that I could be</p><p>scary?" He raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened his face.</p><p>I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over</p><p>better. I decided to go with the truth. "Hmmm… I think you could be, if you</p><p>wanted to."</p><p>"Are you frightened of me now?" The smile vanished, and his heavenly face was</p><p>suddenly serious.</p><p>"No." But I answered too quickly. The smile returned.</p><p>"So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked to distract him.</p><p>"It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."</p><p>He was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"</p><p>"The Cullens adopted you?" I verified.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"</p><p>"They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact.</p><p>"I'm sorry," I mumbled.</p><p>"I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my</p><p>parents for a long time now."</p><p>"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of</p><p>them.</p><p>"Yes." He smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."</p><p>"You're very lucky."</p><p>"I know I am."</p><p>"And your brother and sister?"</p><p>He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.</p><p>"My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be</p><p>quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."</p><p>"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of the car.</p><p>"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you</p><p>don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." He grinned at me.</p><p>"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." I sighed.</p><p>He laughed, and there was an edge to his laughter.</p><p>"Have fun at the beach… good weather for sunbathing." He glanced out at the</p><p>sheeting rain.</p><p>"Won't I see you tomorrow?"</p><p>"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."</p><p>"What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the</p><p>disappointment wasn't too apparent in my voice.</p><p>"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."</p><p>I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.</p><p>"Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't think I fooled him,</p><p>though. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.</p><p>"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look me straight in</p><p>the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes.</p><p>I nodded helplessly.</p><p>"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract</p><p>accidents like a magnet. So… try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or</p><p>anything, all right?" He smiled crookedly.</p><p>The helplessness had faded as he spoke. I glared at him.</p><p>"I'll see what I can do," I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. I slammed the</p><p>door behind me with excessive force.</p><p>He was still smiling as he drove away.</p><p>6. SCARY STORIES</p><p>As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, I was</p><p>really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the pounding rain,</p><p>I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain —</p><p>again — it was suddenly there.</p><p>I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-</p><p>expectations. Of course there were the fainting comments. Jessica especially</p><p>seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and</p><p>no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement. She did have a lot of</p><p>questions about lunch, though.</p><p>"So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.</p><p>"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point."</p><p>"You looked kind of mad," she fished.</p><p>"Did I?" I kept my expression blank.</p><p>"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was</p><p>weird."</p><p>"Weird," I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls impatiently</p><p>— I guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would make a good story</p><p>for her to pass on.</p><p>The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn't going to be</p><p>there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I</p><p>couldn't keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat</p><p>talking, heads close together. And I couldn't stop the gloom that engulfed me as I</p><p>realized I didn't know how long I would have to wait before I saw him again.</p><p>At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike was</p><p>animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who</p><p>promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it. But it was</p><p>warmer today — almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be completely</p><p>miserable.</p><p>I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I didn't</p><p>understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind</p><p>her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware</p><p>of that.</p><p>"…don't know why Bella" — she sneered my name — "doesn't just sit with the</p><p>Cullens from now on."</p><p>I heard her muttering to Mike. I'd never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice</p><p>she had, and I was surprised by the malice in it. I really didn't know her well at</p><p>all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike me — or so I'd thought. "She's</p><p>my friend; she sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally, but also a bit</p><p>territorially. I paused to let Jess and Angela pass me. I didn't want to hear any</p><p>more.</p><p>That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the</p><p>morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but</p><p>he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now. Of course he</p><p>knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-</p><p>grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to approve. I wondered if he would</p><p>approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going</p><p>to tell him.</p><p>"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's</p><p>south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.</p><p>"Yeah — why?"</p><p>I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."</p><p>"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many</p><p>bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."</p><p>"Oh," I murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."</p><p>I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see</p><p>a clear yellow light streaming through my window. I couldn't believe it. I hurried</p><p>to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong</p><p>place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it</p><p>was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was</p><p>visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I</p><p>left the blue would disappear again.</p><p>The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen the store,</p><p>but I'd never stopped there — not having much need for any supplies required</p><p>for being outdoors over an extended period of time. In the parking lot I</p><p>recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra. As I pulled up next to their</p><p>vehicles, I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban. Eric</p><p>was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their</p><p>names were Ben and Conner. Jess was there, flanked by Angela and Lauren.</p><p>Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered falling over in</p><p>Gym on Friday. That one gave me a dirty look as I got out of the truck, and</p><p>whispered something to Lauren. Lauren shook out her cornsilk hair and eyed me</p><p>scornfully.</p><p>So it was going to be one of those days.</p><p>At least Mike was happy to see me.</p><p>"You came!" he called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today, didn't I?"</p><p>"I told you I was coming," I reminded him.</p><p>"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha… unless you invited someone," Mike</p><p>added.</p><p>"Nope," I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn't get caught in the lie. But also wishing</p><p>that a miracle would occur, and Edward would appear.</p><p>Mike looked satisfied.</p><p>"Will you ride in my car? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan."</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy.</p><p>"You can have shotgun," he promised. I hid my chagrin. It wasn't as simple to</p><p>make Mike and Jessica happy at the same time. I could see Jessica glowering at</p><p>us now.</p><p>The numbers worked out in my favor, though. Lee brought two extra people, and</p><p>suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess in between Mike</p><p>and me in the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could have been more graceful</p><p>about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.</p><p>It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green</p><p>forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking</p><p>beneath it twice. I was glad I had the window seat. We'd rolled the windows</p><p>down — the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it — and I</p><p>tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.</p><p>I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers</p><p>with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was</p><p>I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees,</p><p>their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the</p><p>ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves.</p><p>It was too green — an alien planet.</p><p>Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom</p><p>house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those</p><p>were the only kind of days their marriage had — the early ones. There, parked</p><p>on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new — well, new</p><p>to me — truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous</p><p>cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. I didn't know if it would run, but I could</p><p>see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets</p><p>damaged — the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched,</p><p>surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.</p><p>"Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!" Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just</p><p>that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking</p><p>two miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser.</p><p>"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.</p><p>It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that</p><p>faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had been belonged to me</p><p>since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the</p><p>yellowed lace curtains around the window — these were all a part of my</p><p>childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for</p><p>a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer,</p><p>with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone</p><p>jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch</p><p>easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner.</p><p>There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have</p><p>to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact.</p><p>One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left me alone to</p><p>unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my</p><p>mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to</p><p>stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears</p><p>escape. I wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag. I would save that for</p><p>bedtime, when I would have to think about the coming morning.</p><p>Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven</p><p>— now fifty-eight — students; there were more than seven hundred people in</p><p>my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together —</p><p>their grandparents had been toddlers together.</p><p>I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.</p><p>Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my</p><p>advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty,</p><p>blond — a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, perhaps — all the things that go</p><p>with living in the valley of the sun.</p><p>Instead, I was ivory-skinned, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair,</p><p>despite the constant sunshine. I had always been slender, but soft somehow,</p><p>obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination to</p><p>play sports without humiliating myself — and harming both myself and anyone</p><p>else who stood too close.</p><p>When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of</p><p>bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up</p><p>after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I brushed through my</p><p>tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower,</p><p>unhealthy. My skin could be pretty — it was very clear, almost translucent-</p><p>looking — but it all depended on color. I had no color here.</p><p>Facing my pallid reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying</p><p>to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I couldn't find a</p><p>niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances here?</p><p>I didn't relate well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well</p><p>to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the</p><p>planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page.</p><p>Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the</p><p>rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my</p><p>brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect. And</p><p>tomorrow would be just the beginning.</p><p>I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant</p><p>whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the</p><p>background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the</p><p>pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until after midnight, when the rain finally</p><p>settled into a quieter drizzle.</p><p>Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the</p><p>claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like</p><p>a cage.</p><p>Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I</p><p>thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me.</p><p>Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he</p><p>left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three unmatching chairs and</p><p>examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets,</p><p>and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. My mother had painted the</p><p>cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house.</p><p>Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a</p><p>row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas,</p><p>then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful</p><p>nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those</p><p>were embarrassing to look at — I would have to see what I could do to get</p><p>Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here.</p><p>It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never</p><p>gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.</p><p>I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I</p><p>donned my jacket — which had the feel of a biohazard suit — and headed out</p><p>into the rain.</p><p>It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I</p><p>reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door,</p><p>and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I</p><p>missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my</p><p>truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled</p><p>around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.</p><p>Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously</p><p>cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco,</p><p>gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly,</p><p>roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to</p><p>have a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected.</p><p>Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The</p><p>school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that</p><p>it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School,</p><p>made me stop. It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-</p><p>colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at</p><p>first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where</p><p>were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?</p><p>I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over</p><p>familiar to me. It was</p><p>still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped</p><p>and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters</p><p>with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere,</p><p>soaring firs. The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge,</p><p>after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly</p><p>gray from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta,</p><p>sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge</p><p>driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled together</p><p>against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just out of reach of the</p><p>waves.</p><p>There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans floated</p><p>on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them. The clouds</p><p>still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment, but for now the sun</p><p>shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.</p><p>We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of</p><p>driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before. There</p><p>was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric and the boy I</p><p>thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier</p><p>piles against the forest edge, and soon had a teepee-shaped construction built</p><p>atop the old cinders.</p><p>"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on one of</p><p>the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping excitedly, on either</p><p>side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one of the smaller sticks with a</p><p>cigarette lighter.</p><p>"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.</p><p>"You'll like this then — watch the colors." He lit another small branch and laid it</p><p>alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.</p><p>"It's blue," I said in surprise.</p><p>"The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placed it where the fire</p><p>hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me. Thankfully, Jess was on his other</p><p>side. She turned to him and claimed his attention. I watched the strange blue and</p><p>green flames crackle toward the sky.</p><p>After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal</p><p>pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had</p><p>fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the only things I ever looked</p><p>forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into</p><p>them a lot. Not a big deal when you're seven and with your dad. It reminded me</p><p>of Edward's request — that I not fall into the ocean.</p><p>Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike, and</p><p>she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of the other girls besides</p><p>Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tyler and</p><p>Eric had committed to remaining with them before I got up quietly to join the</p><p>pro-hiking group. Mike gave me a huge smile when he saw that I was coming.</p><p>The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods. The green</p><p>light of the forest was strangely at odds with the adolescent laughter, too murky</p><p>and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter around me. I had to watch</p><p>each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I</p><p>soon fell behind. Eventually I broke through the emerald confines of the forest</p><p>and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us</p><p>on its way to the sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never</p><p>completely drained were teeming with life.</p><p>I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The others</p><p>were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I found</p><p>a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there</p><p>cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. The bouquets of</p><p>brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells</p><p>scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck</p><p>motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white</p><p>racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return.</p><p>I was completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wondered</p><p>what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying if</p><p>he were here with me.</p><p>Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. I tried to</p><p>keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally I fell a few times. I got</p><p>some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my jeans were stained</p><p>green, but it could have been worse.</p><p>When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As</p><p>we got closer we could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of the</p><p>newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to socialize.</p><p>The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a share</p><p>while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle. Angela and I</p><p>were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy</p><p>sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me in interest. I sat down next to</p><p>Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches and an array of sodas to choose from,</p><p>while a boy who looked to be the oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of</p><p>the seven others with him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named</p><p>Jessica, and the boy who noticed me was named Jacob.</p><p>It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to be around</p><p>— she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. She left me free to</p><p>think undisturbed while we ate. And I was thinking about how disjointedly time</p><p>seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing</p><p>out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was</p><p>significant, etched in my mind. I knew exactly what caused the difference, and it</p><p>disturbed me.</p><p>During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky, darting</p><p>in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and</p><p>blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started to drift away in</p><p>twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip</p><p>rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to</p><p>the tide pools. Mike — with Jessica shadowing him — headed up to the one</p><p>shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on</p><p>the hike. By the time they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood</p><p>log, with Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someone had</p><p>thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around the</p><p>circle, including the boy named Jacob and the oldest boy who had acted as</p><p>spokesperson.</p><p>A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to take her</p><p>place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black</p><p>hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was</p><p>beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high</p><p>planes of his cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left</p><p>around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face. However, my positive opinion of</p><p>his looks was damaged by the first words out of his mouth.</p><p>"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"</p><p>It was like the first day of school all over again.</p><p>"Bella," I sighed.</p><p>"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my</p><p>dad's truck."</p><p>"Oh," I said, relieved, shaking his sleek hand. "You're Billy's son. I probably</p><p>should remember you."</p><p>"No, I'm the youngest of the family — you would remember my older sisters."</p><p>"Rachel and Rebecca," I suddenly recalled.</p><p>Charlie and Billy had thrown us</p><p>together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all</p><p>too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd kicked up enough</p><p>tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.</p><p>"Are they here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if I would</p><p>recognize them now.</p><p>"No." Jacob shook his head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and</p><p>Rebecca married a Samoan surfer — she lives in Hawaii now."</p><p>"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older</p><p>than I was.</p><p>"So how do you like the truck?" he asked.</p><p>"I love it. It runs great."</p><p>"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relived when Charlie bought it.</p><p>My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly</p><p>good vehicle right there."</p><p>"It's not that slow," I objected.</p><p>"Have you tried to go over sixty?"</p><p>"No," I admitted.</p><p>"Good. Don't." He grinned.</p><p>I couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," I offered in my</p><p>truck's defense.</p><p>"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with another</p><p>laugh.</p><p>"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed.</p><p>"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could</p><p>get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added</p><p>jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice.</p><p>"Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for</p><p>you." As if I knew what that was. He was very easy to talk with.</p><p>He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a way I was learning</p><p>to recognize. I wasn't the only one who noticed.</p><p>"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked — in what I imagined was an insolent</p><p>tone — from across the fire.</p><p>"We've sort of known each other since I was born," he laughed, smiling at me</p><p>again.</p><p>"How nice." She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her pale,</p><p>fishy eyes narrowed.</p><p>"Bella," she called again, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying to Tyler</p><p>that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone</p><p>think to invite them?" Her expression of concern was unconvincing.</p><p>"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy asked before I could</p><p>respond, much to Lauren's irritation. He was really closer to a man than a boy,</p><p>and his voice was very deep.</p><p>"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward</p><p>him.</p><p>"The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject, ignoring</p><p>her question.</p><p>Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren's opinion on a CD he held.</p><p>She was distracted.</p><p>I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away toward the</p><p>dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone</p><p>had implied something more — that they weren't allowed; they were prohibited.</p><p>His manner left a strange impression on me, and I tried to ignore it without</p><p>success.</p><p>Jacob interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"</p><p>"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." I grimaced. He grinned understandingly.</p><p>I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a sudden</p><p>inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn't have any better ideas. I hoped that</p><p>young Jacob was as yet inexperienced around girls, so that he wouldn't see</p><p>through my sure-to-be-pitiful attempts at flirting.</p><p>"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" I asked, trying to imitate that</p><p>way Edward had of looking up from underneath his eyelashes. It couldn't have</p><p>nearly the same effect, I was sure, but Jacob jumped up willingly enough.</p><p>As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood seawall,</p><p>the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the</p><p>temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.</p><p>"So you're, what, sixteen?" I asked, trying not to look like an idiot as I fluttered</p><p>my eyelids the way I'd seen girls do on TV.</p><p>"I just turned fifteen," he confessed, flattered.</p><p>"Really?" My face was full of false surprise. "I would have thought you were</p><p>older."</p><p>"I'm tall for my age," he explained.</p><p>"Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked archly, as if I was hoping for a yes. I</p><p>sounded idiotic to myself. I was afraid he would turn on me with disgust and</p><p>accuse me of my fraud, but he still seemed flattered.</p><p>"Not too much," he admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished I can</p><p>go up as much as I want — after I get my license," he amended.</p><p>"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to be</p><p>hanging out with us." I purposefully lumped myself in with the youngsters,</p><p>trying to make it clear that I preferred Jacob.</p><p>"That's Sam — he's nineteen," he informed me.</p><p>"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked innocently.</p><p>"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He</p><p>looked away, out toward James Island, as he confirmed what I'd thought I'd</p><p>heard in Sam's voice.</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>He glanced back at me, biting his lip. "Oops. I'm not supposed to say anything</p><p>about that."</p><p>"Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious." I tried to make my smile alluring,</p><p>wondering if I was laying it on too thick.</p><p>He smiled back, though, looking allured. Then he lifted one eyebrow and his</p><p>voice was even huskier than before.</p><p>"Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously.</p><p>"I love them," I enthused, making an effort to smolder at him.</p><p>Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out like the</p><p>attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on one of the twisted</p><p>roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree. He stared down at the</p><p>rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his broad lips. I could see he was</p><p>going to try to make this good. I focused on keeping the vital interest I felt out of</p><p>my eyes.</p><p>"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the</p><p>Quileutes, I mean?" he began.</p><p>"Not really," I admitted.</p><p>"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood</p><p>— supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest</p><p>trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark." He smiled, to show me</p><p>how little stock he put in the histories. "Another legend claims that we</p><p>descended from wolves — and that the wolves are our brothers still. It's against</p><p>tribal law to kill them.</p><p>"Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a little lower.</p><p>"The cold ones?" I asked, not faking my intrigue now.</p><p>"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some</p><p>much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some</p><p>of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land." He</p><p>rolled his eyes.</p><p>"Your great-grandfather?" I encouraged.</p><p>"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural</p><p>enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into</p><p>men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."</p><p>"Werewolves have enemies?"</p><p>"Only one."</p><p>I stared at him earnestly, hoping to disguise my impatience as admiration.</p><p>"So you see," Jacob continued, "the cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But</p><p>this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time was</p><p>different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did — they weren't</p><p>supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a truce</p><p>with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them</p><p>to the pale-faces." He winked at me.</p><p>"If they weren't dangerous, then why… ?" I tried to understand, struggling not to</p><p>let him see how seriously I was considering his ghost story.</p><p>"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're</p><p>civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get too hungry to</p><p>resist." He deliberately</p><p>worked a thick edge of menace into his tone.</p><p>"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"</p><p>"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow</p><p>able to prey on animals instead."</p><p>I tried to keep my voice casual. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they</p><p>like the cold ones your greatgrandfather met?"</p><p>"No." He paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."</p><p>He must have thought the expression on my face was fear inspired by his story.</p><p>He smiled, pleased, and continued.</p><p>"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the</p><p>same. In my great-grandfather's time they already knew of the leader, Carlisle.</p><p>He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." He was fighting</p><p>a smile.</p><p>"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"</p><p>He smiled darkly.</p><p>"Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them</p><p>vampires."</p><p>I stared out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my face was</p><p>exposing.</p><p>"You have goose bumps," he laughed delightedly.</p><p>"You're a good storyteller," I complimented him, still staring into the waves.</p><p>"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk</p><p>about it to anyone."</p><p>I couldn't control my expression enough to look at him yet. "Don't worry, I won't</p><p>give you away."</p><p>"I guess I just violated the treaty," he laughed.</p><p>"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, and then I shivered.</p><p>"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at my dad</p><p>when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen</p><p>started working there."</p><p>"I won't, of course not."</p><p>"So do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" he asked in a</p><p>playful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn't looked away from the ocean.</p><p>I turned and smiled at him as normally as I could.</p><p>"No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goose</p><p>bumps, see?" I held up my arm.</p><p>"Cool." He smiled.</p><p>And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other warned us</p><p>that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see</p><p>Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us.</p><p>"There you are, Bella," Mike called in relief, waving his arm over his head.</p><p>"Is that your boyfriend?" Jacob asked, alerted by the jealous edge in Mike's</p><p>voice. I was surprised it was so obvious.</p><p>"No, definitely not," I whispered. I was tremendously grateful to Jacob, and</p><p>eager to make him as happy as possible. I winked at him, carefully turning away</p><p>from Mike to do so. He smiled, elated by my inept flirting.</p><p>"So when I get my license…" he began.</p><p>"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt guilty</p><p>as I said this, knowing that I'd used him. But I really did like Jacob. He was</p><p>someone I could easily be friends with.</p><p>Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back. I could see his</p><p>eyes appraising Jacob, and looking satisfied at his obvious youth.</p><p>"Where have you been?" he asked, though the answer was right in front of him.</p><p>"Jacob was just telling me some local stories," I volunteered. "It was really</p><p>interesting."</p><p>I smiled at Jacob warmly, and he grinned back.</p><p>"Well," Mike paused, carefully reassessing the situation as he watched our</p><p>camaraderie. "We're packing up — it looks like it's going to rain soon."</p><p>We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.</p><p>"Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming."</p><p>"It was nice to see you again," Jacob said, and I could tell he was taunting Mike</p><p>just a bit.</p><p>"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too," I</p><p>promised.</p><p>His grin stretched across his face. "That would be cool."</p><p>"And thanks," I added earnestly.</p><p>I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A</p><p>few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they</p><p>landed. When we got to the Suburban the others were already loading everything</p><p>back in. I crawled into the backseat by Angela and Tyler, announcing that I'd</p><p>already had my turn in the shotgun position. Angela just stared out the window</p><p>at the escalating storm, and Lauren twisted around in the middle seat to occupy</p><p>Tyler's attention, so I could simply lay my head back on the seat and close my</p><p>eyes and try very hard not to think.</p><p>7. NIGHTMARE</p><p>I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do, and that I didn't want anything to</p><p>eat. There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, though of course</p><p>I had no idea what was special about it, so he wasn't aware of anything unusual</p><p>in my face or tone.</p><p>Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my old</p><p>headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked up a CD that</p><p>Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, but they</p><p>used a little too much bass and shrieking for my tastes. I popped it into place and</p><p>lay down on my bed. I put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume</p><p>until it hurt my ears. I closed my eyes, but the light still intruded, so I added a</p><p>pillow over the top half of my face.</p><p>I concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the lyrics, to</p><p>unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I'd listened through the</p><p>CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I was surprised to find that I</p><p>really did like the band after all, once I got past the blaring noise. I'd have to</p><p>thank Phil again.</p><p>And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think — which</p><p>was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the CD again and again, until</p><p>I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep.</p><p>I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner of my consciousness</p><p>that I was dreaming, I recognized the green light of the forest. I could hear the</p><p>waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby. And I knew that if I found</p><p>the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, but then</p><p>Jacob Black was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest</p><p>part of the forest.</p><p>"Jacob? What's wrong?" I asked. His face was frightened as he yanked with all</p><p>his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to go into the dark.</p><p>"Run, Bella, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.</p><p>"This way, Bella!" I recognized Mike's voice calling out of the gloomy heart of</p><p>the trees, but I couldn't see him.</p><p>"Why?" I asked, still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now to find the sun.</p><p>But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim</p><p>forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched in horror.</p><p>"Jacob!" I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-brown wolf</p><p>with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the</p><p>hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his</p><p>exposed fangs.</p><p>"Bella, run!" Mike cried out again from behind me. But I didn't turn. I was</p><p>watching a light coming toward me from the beach.</p><p>And then Edward stepped out from the trees, his skin faintly glowing, his eyes</p><p>black and dangerous. He held up one hand and beckoned me to come to him.</p><p>The wolf growled at my feet.</p><p>I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp,</p><p>pointed.</p><p>"Trust me," he purred.</p><p>I took another step.</p><p>The wolf launched himself across the space between me and the vampire, fangs</p><p>aiming for the jugular.</p><p>"No!" I screamed, wrenching upright out of my bed.</p><p>My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off the</p><p>bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor.</p><p>My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on the bed, with my shoes</p><p>on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was five-thirty in the</p><p>morning.</p><p>I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots. I was</p><p>too uncomfortable to get anywhere</p><p>near sleep, though. I rolled back over and</p><p>unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal. I</p><p>could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my</p><p>skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the rubber band out, quickly combing</p><p>through the plaits with my fingers. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes.</p><p>It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the images</p><p>I'd been trying so desperately to avoid. I was going to have to face them now.</p><p>I sat up, and my head spun for a minute as the blood flowed downward. First</p><p>things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as possible. I grabbed</p><p>my bathroom bag.</p><p>The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even taking</p><p>the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to do in the bathroom.</p><p>Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. I couldn't tell if Charlie was still</p><p>asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser</p><p>was gone. Fishing again.</p><p>I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed — something I</p><p>never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my</p><p>old computer.</p><p>I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service</p><p>substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl</p><p>of cereal while I waited.</p><p>I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl</p><p>and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the</p><p>stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing it</p><p>precisely in the center of the table. I pulled out the headphones, and put them</p><p>away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the same CD on, turning it down to the</p><p>point where it was background noise.</p><p>With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in</p><p>pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing all the little</p><p>windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search engine. I shot down a few</p><p>more pop-ups and then typed in one word.</p><p>Vampire.</p><p>It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was</p><p>a lot to sift through — everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing</p><p>games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies.</p><p>Then I found a promising site — Vampires A—Z. I waited impatiently for it to</p><p>load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally the</p><p>screen was finished — simple white background with black text, academic-</p><p>looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:</p><p>Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so</p><p>terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful</p><p>fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who</p><p>partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of</p><p>both. — Rev. Montague Summers</p><p>If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires.</p><p>Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons,</p><p>of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that,</p><p>who is there who believes in vampires? — Rousseau</p><p>The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of</p><p>vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a</p><p>Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long</p><p>ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years,</p><p>but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag</p><p>sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body</p><p>completely of blood.</p><p>I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded</p><p>familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths centered around</p><p>beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like</p><p>constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children,</p><p>and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless</p><p>spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded</p><p>like the movies I'd seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the</p><p>Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood.</p><p>Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a</p><p>powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the</p><p>Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village</p><p>in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici.</p><p>About this last there was only one brief sentence.</p><p>Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a</p><p>mortal enemy of all evil vampires.</p><p>It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed</p><p>the existence of good vampires.</p><p>Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or my own</p><p>observations. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind as I'd read and carefully</p><p>compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift</p><p>color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-</p><p>skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.</p><p>And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number of</p><p>scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading — vampires</p><p>couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They</p><p>slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.</p><p>Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut</p><p>things down properly. Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming</p><p>embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room, researching</p><p>vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that most of the blame belonged</p><p>on the doorstep of the town of Forks — and the entire sodden Olympic</p><p>Peninsula, for that matter.</p><p>I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't</p><p>involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was</p><p>headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the</p><p>weather and stomped out the door.</p><p>It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot,</p><p>angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take</p><p>long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the</p><p>only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries</p><p>of the jays.</p><p>There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I wouldn't</p><p>risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could</p><p>get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail wound deeper and deeper</p><p>into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka</p><p>spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only vaguely knew the</p><p>names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie pointing them</p><p>out to me from the cruiser window in earlier days. There were many I didn't</p><p>know, and others I couldn't be sure about because they were so covered in green</p><p>parasites.</p><p>I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed me forward. As that</p><p>started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy</p><p>above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply</p><p>pools left over from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping</p><p>their way back to the earth. A recently fallen tree — I knew it was recent</p><p>because it wasn't entirely carpeted in moss — rested against the trunk of one of</p><p>her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I</p><p>stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the</p><p>damp seat and my clothes wherever they touched,</p><p>and leaned my hooded head</p><p>back against the living tree.</p><p>This was the wrong place to have come. I should have known, but where else</p><p>was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in</p><p>last night's dream to allow for peace of mind. Now that there was no longer the</p><p>sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too,</p><p>the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood</p><p>higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by</p><p>on the path, three feet away, and not see me.</p><p>Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the absurdities that embarrassed</p><p>me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all</p><p>the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in</p><p>this green haze than they had in my clear-cut bedroom.</p><p>I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer, but I</p><p>did so unwillingly.</p><p>First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about the Cullens</p><p>could be true.</p><p>Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly and</p><p>morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? I asked myself.</p><p>There was no rational explanation for how I was alive at this moment. I listed</p><p>again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and</p><p>strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman</p><p>beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more — small things that registered slowly —</p><p>how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And</p><p>the way be</p><p>sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of</p><p>a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. He had</p><p>skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip</p><p>till he heard where we were going. He seemed to know what everyone around</p><p>him was thinking… except me. He had told me he was the villain, dangerous…</p><p>Could the Cullens be vampires?</p><p>Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational</p><p>justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes. Whether it be</p><p>Jacob's cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edward Cullen was not…</p><p>human. He was something more.</p><p>So then — maybe. That would have to be my answer for now.</p><p>And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do if it was</p><p>true?</p><p>If Edward was a vampire — I could hardly make myself think the words — then</p><p>what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn't even</p><p>believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed.</p><p>Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: to be smart,</p><p>to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go back to ignoring</p><p>him as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall</p><p>between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell him to leave</p><p>me alone — and mean it this time.</p><p>I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair as I considered that alternative. My</p><p>mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to the next option.</p><p>I could do nothing different. After all, if he was something… sinister, he'd done</p><p>nothing to hurt me so far. In fact, I would be a dent in Tyler's fender if he hadn't</p><p>acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer</p><p>reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could he be? I retorted. My</p><p>head spun around in answerless circles.</p><p>There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The dark Edward in</p><p>my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear of the word Jacob had</p><p>spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when I'd screamed out in terror at the</p><p>werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for the wolf that brought the cry of "no" to my</p><p>lips. It was fear that he would be harmed — even as he called to me with sharp-</p><p>edged fangs, I feared for him.</p><p>And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn't know if there ever was a choice,</p><p>really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew — if I knew — I could do</p><p>nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of him, of his</p><p>voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing</p><p>more than to be with him right now. Even if… but I couldn't think it. Not here,</p><p>alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under</p><p>the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered</p><p>and rose quickly from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path</p><p>would have disappeared with the rain.</p><p>But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze.</p><p>I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face, becoming surprised,</p><p>as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I</p><p>was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the confines of the</p><p>forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open</p><p>spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the</p><p>street, and I was free, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house</p><p>beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks.</p><p>It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the</p><p>day, jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn't take too much effort</p><p>to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due</p><p>Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than</p><p>I'd felt since… well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest.</p><p>That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part</p><p>for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I simply</p><p>followed through — usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the</p><p>relief was tainted by despair, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still</p><p>better than wrestling with the alternatives.</p><p>This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy.</p><p>And so the day was quiet, productive — I finished my paper before eight.</p><p>Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a</p><p>book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The chills that flashed</p><p>up my spine whenever I thought of that trip were no different than the ones I'd</p><p>felt before I'd taken my walk with Jacob Black. They should be different, I</p><p>thought. I should be afraid — I knew I should be, but I couldn't feel the right</p><p>kind of fear.</p><p>I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day so early, and</p><p>sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time since arriving in</p><p>Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window,</p><p>stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just</p><p>fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the</p><p>window — surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having</p><p>opened it in who knows how many years — and sucked in the relatively dry air.</p><p>It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins.</p><p>Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my</p><p>mood immediately.</p><p>"Nice day out," he commented.</p><p>"Yes," I agreed with a grin.</p><p>He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie</p><p>smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into</p><p>an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days had faded</p><p>before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair — the same color, if not the same</p><p>texture, as mine — had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny</p><p>skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had</p><p>run away with Renée when she was just two years older than I was now.</p><p>I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that</p><p>streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the</p><p>cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on</p><p>my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded</p><p>it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.</p><p>By dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in the truck</p><p>almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't</p><p>even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward</p><p>the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches</p><p>were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My</p><p>homework was done — the product of a slow social life — but there were a few</p><p>Trig problems I wasn't sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but</p><p>halfway through rechecking the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the</p><p>sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins</p><p>of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs</p><p>of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser.</p><p>"Bella!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike.</p><p>I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been</p><p>sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though</p><p>the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki</p><p>shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.</p><p>"Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning like</p><p>this.</p><p>He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the light, his</p><p>grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, I couldn't help but</p><p>feel gratified.</p><p>"I never noticed before — your hair has red in it," he commented, catching</p><p>between his fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze.</p><p>"Only in the sun."</p><p>I became just a little uncomfortable as he tucked the lock behind my ear.</p><p>"Great day, isn't it?"</p><p>"My kind of day," I agreed.</p><p>"What did you do yesterday?" His tone was just a bit too proprietary.</p><p>"I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it — no</p><p>need to sound smug.</p><p>He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh yeah — that's due Thursday,</p><p>right?"</p><p>"Um, Wednesday, I think."</p><p>"Wednesday?" He frowned. "That's not good… What are you writing yours on?"</p><p>"Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is misogynistic."</p><p>He stared at me like I'd just spoken in pig Latin.</p><p>"I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight," he said, deflated. "I was going</p><p>to ask if you wanted to go out."</p><p>"Oh." I was taken off guard. Why couldn't I ever have a pleasant conversation</p><p>with Mike anymore without it getting awkward?</p><p>"Well, we could go to dinner or something… and I could work on it later." He</p><p>smiled at me hopefully.</p><p>"Mike…" I hated being put on the spot. "I don't think that would be the best</p><p>idea."</p><p>His face fell. "Why?" he asked, his eyes guarded. My thoughts flickered to</p><p>Edward, wondering if that's where his thoughts were as well.</p><p>"I think… and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now I will cheerfully beat</p><p>you to death," I threatened, "but I think that would hurt Jessica's feelings."</p><p>He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. "Jessica?"</p><p>"Really, Mike, are you blind?"</p><p>"Oh," he exhaled — clearly dazed. I took advantage of that to make my escape.</p><p>"It's time for class, and I can't be late again." I gathered my books up and stuffed</p><p>them in my bag.</p><p>We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I</p><p>hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right</p><p>direction.</p><p>When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and</p><p>Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance,</p><p>and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn't need one. I was indecisive.</p><p>It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be</p><p>there. And who knew what I could be doing tonight… But that was definitely the</p><p>wrong path to let my mind wander down. Of course I was happy about the</p><p>sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in,</p><p>not even close.</p><p>So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Charlie first.</p><p>She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if</p><p>without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were</p><p>on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice</p><p>much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the</p><p>Cullens — to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I</p><p>crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither</p><p>down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I</p><p>was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me — would Edward</p><p>be waiting to sit with me again?</p><p>As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic</p><p>trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my</p><p>eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me.</p><p>The place was nearly filled — Spanish had made us late — but there was no sign</p><p>of Edward or any of his family. Desolation hit me with crippling strength.</p><p>I shambled along behind Jessica, not bothering to pretend to listen anymore.</p><p>We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty</p><p>chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held</p><p>the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response.</p><p>Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered</p><p>as naturally as I could while spiraling downward in misery. She, too, invited me</p><p>to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to distract</p><p>myself.</p><p>I realized I'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when I entered Biology, saw</p><p>his empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment.</p><p>The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the</p><p>rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it</p><p>meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best</p><p>part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind</p><p>that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the</p><p>rest of the class.</p><p>I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I went</p><p>out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in the door of</p><p>Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike</p><p>had asked her out to dinner — I really was relieved that he finally seemed to be</p><p>catching on — but my enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She</p><p>rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.</p><p>Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for</p><p>dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night before, so there was</p><p>nothing to do there. I spent a focused half hour on homework, but then I was</p><p>through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, reading the backlog of letters from</p><p>my mother, getting snippier as they progressed to the present. I sighed and typed</p><p>a quick response.</p><p>Mom,</p><p>Sorry. I've been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to</p><p>write a paper.</p><p>My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that.</p><p>It's sunny outside today - I know, I'm shocked, too - so I'm going to go</p><p>outside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can. I love you,</p><p>Bella.</p><p>I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection</p><p>of books that came with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation</p><p>of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and headed to the backyard,</p><p>grabbing</p><p>a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my</p><p>way down.</p><p>Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of</p><p>the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly</p><p>wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles</p><p>in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide</p><p>which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. My favorites were Pride and</p><p>Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. I'd read the first most recently, so I started</p><p>into Sense and Sensibility, only to remember after I began three that the hero of</p><p>the story happened to be named Edward. Angrily, I turned to Mansfield Park,</p><p>but the hero of that piece was named Edmund, and that was just too close.</p><p>Weren't there any other names available in the late eighteenth century? I snapped</p><p>the book shut, annoyed, and rolled over onto my back. I pushed my sleeves up as</p><p>high as they would go, and closed my eyes. I would think of nothing but the</p><p>warmth on my skin, I told myself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew</p><p>tendrils of my hair around my face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair</p><p>over my head, letting it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the</p><p>heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms,</p><p>my neck, soaked through my light shirt…</p><p>The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto</p><p>the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone,</p><p>behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the</p><p>sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.</p><p>"Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.</p><p>I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran</p><p>inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late.</p><p>Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came</p><p>in.</p><p>"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet — I fell asleep outside." I stifled a yawn.</p><p>"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the game,</p><p>anyway."</p><p>I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't</p><p>anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned it</p><p>to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to</p><p>be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make</p><p>him happy.</p><p>"Dad," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at</p><p>dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to</p><p>help them choose… do you mind if I go with them?"</p><p>"Jessica Stanley?" he asked.</p><p>"And Angela Weber." I sighed as I gave him the details.</p><p>He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"</p><p>"No, Dad, but I'm helping them find dresses — you know, giving them</p><p>constructive criticism." I wouldn't have to explain this to a woman.</p><p>"Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girlie</p><p>stuff. "It's a school night, though."</p><p>"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for</p><p>dinner, right?"</p><p>"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded me.</p><p>"I don't know how you survived," I muttered, then added more clearly, "I'll leave</p><p>some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top."</p><p>It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I grimly</p><p>tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck blouse</p><p>— something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.</p><p>I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class.</p><p>With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a space, while also</p><p>searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there. I parked in the last row</p><p>and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell.</p><p>It was the same as yesterday — I just couldn't keep little sprouts of hope from</p><p>budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the</p><p>lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.</p><p>The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the more</p><p>attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. I was anxious to get out</p><p>of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see him appearing</p><p>out of the blue the way he always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a</p><p>good mood tonight and not ruin Angela's or Jessica's enjoyment in the dress</p><p>hunting. Maybe I could do a little clothes shopping as well. I refused to think</p><p>that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in</p><p>the earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn't cancel without at least telling me.</p><p>After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I could</p><p>ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside,</p><p>feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I left a</p><p>note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, switched my</p><p>scruffy wallet from my school bag to a purse I rarely used, and ran out to join</p><p>Jessica. We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. My</p><p>excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.</p><p>8. PORT ANGELES</p><p>Jess drove faster than the Chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. It had</p><p>been a while since I'd had a girls' night out, and the estrogen rush was</p><p>invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs while Jessica jabbered on about</p><p>the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike had gone very well, and</p><p>she was hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first-</p><p>kiss stage. I smiled to myself, pleased. Angela was passively happy to be going</p><p>to the dance, but not really interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who</p><p>her type was, but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, to spare</p><p>her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.</p><p>Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint</p><p>than Forks. But Jessica and Angela knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste</p><p>time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to the one big</p><p>department store in town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's visitor-</p><p>friendly face.</p><p>The dance was billed as semiformal, and we weren't exactly sure what that</p><p>meant. Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised and almost disbelieving when</p><p>I told them I'd never been to a dance in Phoenix.</p><p>"Didn't you ever go with a boyfriend or something?" Jess asked dubiously as we</p><p>walked through the front doors of the store.</p><p>"Really," I tried to convince her, not wanting to confess my dancing problems.</p><p>"I've never had a boyfriend or anything close. I didn't go out much."</p><p>"Why not?" Jessica demanded.</p><p>"No one asked me," I answered honestly.</p><p>She looked skeptical. "People ask you out here," she reminded me, "and you tell</p><p>them no." We were in the juniors' section now, scanning the racks for dress-up</p><p>clothes.</p><p>"Well, except for Tyler," Angela amended quietly.</p><p>"Excuse me?" I gasped. "What did you say?"</p><p>"Tyler told everyone he's taking you to prom," Jessica informed me with</p><p>suspicious eyes.</p><p>"He said what?" I sounded like I was choking.</p><p>"I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.</p><p>I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation. But we had</p><p>found the dress racks, and now we had work to do.</p><p>"That's why Lauren doesn't like you," Jessica giggled while we pawed through</p><p>the clothes.</p><p>I ground my teeth. "Do you think that if I ran him over with my truck he would</p><p>stop feeling guilty about the accident? That he might give up on making amends</p><p>and call it even?"</p><p>"Maybe," Jess snickered. '"If that's why he's doing this."</p><p>The dress selection wasn't large, but both of them found a few things to</p><p>try on. I</p><p>sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying</p><p>to control my fuming.</p><p>Jess was torn between two — one a long, strapless, basic black number, the other</p><p>a knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. I encouraged her to go with the</p><p>blue; why not play up the eyes? Angela chose a pale pink dress that draped</p><p>around her tall frame nicely and brought out honey tints in her light brown hair. I</p><p>complimented them both generously and helped by returning the rejects to their</p><p>racks. The whole process was much shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken</p><p>with Renée at home. I guess there was something to be said for limited choices.</p><p>We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I merely</p><p>watched and critiqued, not in the mood to shop for myself, though I did need</p><p>new shoes. The girls'-night high was wearing off in the wake of my annoyance at</p><p>Tyler, leaving room for the gloom to move back in.</p><p>"Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of pink strappy heels</p><p>— she was overjoyed to have a date tall enough that she could wear high heels at</p><p>all.</p><p>Jessica had drifted to the jewelry counter and we were alone.</p><p>"Yes?" She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view of the shoe.</p><p>I chickened out. "I like those."</p><p>"I think I'll get them — though they'll never match anything but the one dress,"</p><p>she mused.</p><p>"Oh, go ahead — they're on sale," I encouraged. She smiled, putting the lid back</p><p>on a box that contained more practical-looking off-white shoes.</p><p>I tried again. "Um, Angela…" She looked up curiously.</p><p>"Is it normal for the… Cullens" — I kept my eyes on the shoes — "to be out of</p><p>school a lot?" I failed miserably in my attempt to sound nonchalant.</p><p>"Yes, when the weather is good they go backpacking all the time — even the</p><p>doctor. They're all real outdoorsy," she told me quietly, examining her shoes,</p><p>too. She didn't ask one question, let alone the hundreds that Jessica would have</p><p>unleashed. I was beginning to really like Angela.</p><p>"Oh." I let the subject drop as Jessica returned to show us the rhinestone jewelry</p><p>she'd found to match her silver shoes.</p><p>We planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the boardwalk, but the</p><p>dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected. Jess and Angela were</p><p>going to take their clothes back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told</p><p>them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour — I wanted to look for a</p><p>bookstore. They were both willing to come with me, but I encouraged them to go</p><p>have fun — they didn't know how preoccupied I could get when surrounded by</p><p>books; it was something I preferred to do alone. They walked off to the car</p><p>chattering happily, and I headed in the direction Jess pointed out.</p><p>I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't what I was looking for. The</p><p>windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books about spiritual healing.</p><p>I didn't even go inside. Through the glass I could see a fifty-year-old woman</p><p>with long, gray hair worn straight down her back, clad in a dress right out of the</p><p>sixties, smiling welcomingly from behind the counter. I decided that was one</p><p>conversation I could skip. There had to be a normal bookstore in town.</p><p>I meandered through the streets, which were filling up with end-of-the-workday</p><p>traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I wasn't paying as much</p><p>attention as I should to where I was going; I was wrestling with despair. I was</p><p>trying so hard not to think about him, and what Angela had said… and more than</p><p>anything trying to beat down my hopes for Saturday, fearing a disappointment</p><p>more painful than the rest, when I looked up to see someone's silver Volvo</p><p>parked along the street and it all came crashing down on me. Stupid, unreliable</p><p>vampire, I thought to myself.</p><p>I stomped along in a southerly direction, toward some glass-fronted shops that</p><p>looked promising. But when I got to them, they were just a repair shop and a</p><p>vacant space. I still had too much time to go looking for Jess and Angela yet, and</p><p>I definitely needed to get my mood in hand before I met back up with them. I ran</p><p>my fingers through my hair a couple of times and took some deep breaths before</p><p>I continued around the corner.</p><p>I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was going the wrong</p><p>direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was going north, and it looked like the</p><p>buildings here were mostly warehouses. I decided to turn east at the next corner,</p><p>and then loop around after a few blocks and try my luck on a different street on</p><p>my way back to the boardwalk.</p><p>A group of four men turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed too</p><p>casually to be heading home from the office, but they were too grimy to be</p><p>tourists. As they approached me, I realized they weren't too many years older</p><p>than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and</p><p>punching each other's arms. I scooted as far to the inside of the sidewalk as I</p><p>could to give them room, walking swiftly, looking past them to the corner.</p><p>"Hey, there!" one of them called as they passed, and he had to be talking to me</p><p>since no one else was around. I glanced up automatically. Two of them had</p><p>paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in</p><p>his early twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a</p><p>flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. He took half a</p><p>step toward me.</p><p>"Hello," I mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then I quickly looked away and</p><p>walked faster toward the corner. I could hear them laughing at full volume</p><p>behind me.</p><p>"Hey, wait!" one of them called after me again, but I kept my head down and</p><p>rounded the corner with a sigh of relief. I could still hear them chortling behind</p><p>me.</p><p>I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the backs of several somber-colored</p><p>warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading trucks, padlocked for the</p><p>night. The south side of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence</p><p>topped with barbed wire protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd</p><p>wandered far past the part of Port Angeles that I, as a guest, was intended to see.</p><p>It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds finally returning, piling up on the</p><p>western horizon, creating an early sunset. The eastern sky was still clear, but</p><p>graying, shot through with streaks of pink and orange. I'd left my jacket in the</p><p>car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms tightly across my chest. A</p><p>single van passed me, and then the road was empty.</p><p>The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I looked over my shoulder to glare at</p><p>the offending cloud, I realized with a shock that two men were walking quietly</p><p>twenty feet behind me.</p><p>They were from the same group I'd passed at the corner, though neither was the</p><p>dark one who'd spoken to me. I turned my head forward at once, quickening my</p><p>pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made me shiver again. My</p><p>purse was on a shoulder strap and I had it slung across my body, the way you</p><p>were supposed to wear it so it wouldn't get snatched. I knew exactly where my</p><p>pepper spray was — still in my duffle bag under the bed, never unpacked. I</p><p>didn't have much money with me, just a twenty and some ones, and I thought</p><p>about "accidentally" dropping my bag and walking away. But a small, frightened</p><p>voice in the back of my mind warned me that they might be something worse</p><p>than thieves.</p><p>I listened intently to their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet when</p><p>compared to the boisterous noise they'd been making earlier, and it didn't sound</p><p>like they were speeding up, or getting any closer to me. Breathe, I had to remind</p><p>myself. You don't know they're following you. I continued to walk as quickly as</p><p>I could without actually running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was only a</p><p>few yards away from me now. I could hear them, staying as far back as they'd</p><p>been before. A blue car turned onto the street from the south and drove quickly</p><p>past me. I thought of jumping out in front of it, but I hesitated, inhibited, unsure</p><p>that I was really being pursued, and then it was too late.</p><p>I reached the corner, but a swift glance revealed that it was only a blind drive to</p><p>the back of another building. I was half-turned in anticipation; I had to hurriedly</p><p>correct and dash across the narrow drive, back to the sidewalk. The street ended</p><p>at the next corner, where there was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint</p><p>footsteps behind me, deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back,</p><p>though, and I knew they could outrun me in any case. I was sure to trip and go</p><p>sprawling if I tried to go any faster. The footfalls were definitely farther back. I</p><p>risked a quick glance over my shoulder, and they were maybe forty feet back</p><p>now, I saw with relief. But they were both staring at me.</p><p>It seemed to take forever for me to get to the corner. I kept my pace steady, the</p><p>men behind me falling ever so slightly farther behind with every step. Maybe</p><p>they realized they had scared me and were sorry. I saw two cars going north pass</p><p>the intersection I was heading for, and I exhaled in relief. There would be more</p><p>people around once I got off this deserted street. I skipped around the corner</p><p>with a grateful sigh.</p><p>And skidded to a stop.</p><p>The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. I could</p><p>see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars, and more</p><p>pedestrians, but they were all too far away. Because lounging against the western</p><p>building, midway down the street, were the other two men from the group, both</p><p>watching with excited smiles as I froze dead on the sidewalk. I realized then that</p><p>I wasn't being followed.</p><p>I was being herded.</p><p>I paused for only a second, but it felt like a very long time. I turned then and</p><p>darted to the other side of the road. I had a sinking feeling that it was a wasted</p><p>attempt. The footsteps behind me were louder now.</p><p>"There you are!" The booming voice of the stocky, dark-haired man shattered</p><p>the intense quiet and made me jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like he</p><p>was looking past me.</p><p>"Yeah," a voice called loudly from behind me, making me jump again as I tried</p><p>to hurry down the street. "We just took a little detour."</p><p>My steps had to slow now. I was closing the distance between myself and the</p><p>lounging pair too quickly. I had a good loud scream, and I sucked in air,</p><p>preparing to use it, but my throat was so dry I wasn't sure how much volume I</p><p>could manage. With a quick movement I slipped my purse over my head,</p><p>gripping the strap with one hand, ready to surrender it or use it as weapon as</p><p>need demanded.</p><p>The thickset man shrugged away from the wall as I warily came to a stop, and</p><p>walked slowly into the street.</p><p>"Stay away from me," I warned in a voice that was supposed to sound strong and</p><p>fearless. But I was right about the dry throat — no volume.</p><p>"Don't be like that, sugar," he called, and the raucous laughter started again</p><p>behind me.</p><p>I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panic what little self-</p><p>defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully breaking the nose or</p><p>shoving it into the brain. Finger through the eye socket — try to hook around</p><p>and pop the eye out. And the standard knee to the groin, of course. That same</p><p>pessimistic voice in my mind spoke up then, reminding me that I probably</p><p>wouldn't have a chance against one of them, and there were four. Shut up! I</p><p>commanded the voice before terror could incapacitate me. I wasn't going out</p><p>without taking someone with me. I tried to swallow so I could build up a decent</p><p>scream.</p><p>Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting the stocky</p><p>one, forcing him to jump back toward the sidewalk. I dove into the road — this</p><p>car was going to stop, or have to hit me. But the silver car unexpectedly</p><p>fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger door open just a few feet</p><p>from me.</p><p>"Get in," a furious voice commanded.</p><p>It was amazing how instantaneously the choking fear vanished, amazing how</p><p>suddenly the feeling of security washed over me — even before I was off the</p><p>street — as soon as I heard his voice. I jumped into the seat, slamming the door</p><p>shut behind me.</p><p>It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of the door, and I</p><p>could barely see his face in the glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as</p><p>he spun around to face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward the</p><p>stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving for the sidewalk as</p><p>we straightened out and sped toward the harbor.</p><p>"Put on your seat belt," he commanded, and I realized I was clutching the seat</p><p>with both hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt connected was loud in the</p><p>darkness. He took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop</p><p>signs without a pause.</p><p>But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about where we</p><p>were going. I stared at his face in profound relief, relief that went beyond my</p><p>sudden deliverance. I studied his flawless features in the limited light, waiting</p><p>for my breath to return to normal, until it occurred to me that his expression was</p><p>murderously angry.</p><p>"Are you okay?" I asked, surprised at how hoarse my voice sounded.</p><p>"No," he said curtly, and his tone was livid.</p><p>I sat in silence, watching his face while his blazing eyes stared straight ahead,</p><p>until the car came to a sudden stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to see</p><p>anything beside the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We</p><p>weren't in town anymore.</p><p>"Bella?" he asked, his voice tight, controlled.</p><p>"Yes?" My voice was still rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly.</p><p>"Are you all right?" He still didn't look at me, but the fury was plain on his face.</p><p>"Yes," I croaked softly.</p><p>"Distract me, please," he ordered.</p><p>"I'm sorry, what?"</p><p>He exhaled sharply.</p><p>"Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down," he clarified,</p><p>closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and</p><p>forefinger.</p><p>"Um." I wracked my brain for something trivial. "I'm going to run over Tyler</p><p>Crowley tomorrow before school?"</p><p>He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom — either he's insane or he's</p><p>still trying to make up for almost killing me last… well, you remember it, and he</p><p>thinks prom is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his</p><p>life, then we're even, and he can't keep trying to make amends. I don't need</p><p>enemies and maybe Lauren would back off if he left me alone. I might have to</p><p>total his Sentra, though. If he doesn't have a ride he can't take anyone to prom…"</p><p>I babbled on.</p><p>"I heard about that." He sounded a bit more composed.</p><p>"You did?" I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring. "If he's paralyzed</p><p>from the neck down, he can't go to the prom, either," I muttered, refining my</p><p>plan.</p><p>Edward sighed, and finally opened his eyes.</p><p>"Better?"</p><p>"Not really."</p><p>I waited, but he didn't speak again. He leaned his head back against the seat,</p><p>staring at the ceiling of the car. His face was rigid.</p><p>"What's wrong?" My voice came out in a whisper.</p><p>"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella." He was whispering, too,</p><p>and as he stared out the window, his eyes narrowed into slits. "But it wouldn't be</p><p>helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…" He didn't finish his</p><p>sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to control his anger again. "At</p><p>least," he continued, "that's what I'm trying to convince myself."</p><p>"Oh." The word seemed inadequate, but I couldn't think of a better response.</p><p>We sat in silence again. I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was past six-</p><p>thirty.</p><p>"Jessica and Angela will be worried," I murmured. "I was supposed to meet</p><p>them."</p><p>He started</p><p>the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and</p><p>speeding back toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time at all, still</p><p>going too fast, weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising the</p><p>boardwalk. He parallel-parked against the curb in a space I would have thought</p><p>much too small for the Volvo, but he slid in effortlessly in one try. I looked out</p><p>the window to see the lights of La Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving,</p><p>pacing anxiously away from us.</p><p>"How did you know where… ?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard</p><p>the door open and turned to see him getting out.</p><p>"What are you doing?" I asked.</p><p>"I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled slightly, but his eyes were hard. He</p><p>stepped out of the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and</p><p>then hurried to get out of the car as well. He was waiting for me on the sidewalk.</p><p>He spoke before I could. "Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track</p><p>them down, too. I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other</p><p>friends again."</p><p>I shivered at the threat in his voice.</p><p>"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back</p><p>to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously changing to</p><p>surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They hesitated a few feet from</p><p>us.</p><p>"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.</p><p>"I got lost," I admitted sheepishly. "And then I ran into Edward." I gestured</p><p>toward him.</p><p>"Would it be all right if I joined you?" he asked in his silken, irresistible voice. I</p><p>could see from their staggered expressions that he had never unleashed his</p><p>talents on them before.</p><p>"Er… sure," Jessica breathed.</p><p>"Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting — sorry," Angela</p><p>confessed.</p><p>"That's fine — I'm not hungry." I shrugged.</p><p>"I think you should eat something." Edward's voice was low, but full of</p><p>authority. He looked up at Jessica and spoke slightly louder. "Do you mind if I</p><p>drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats."</p><p>"Uh, no problem, I guess…" She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my</p><p>expression whether that was what I wanted. I winked at her. I wanted nothing</p><p>more than to be alone with my perpetual savior. There were so many questions</p><p>that I couldn't bombard him with till we were by ourselves.</p><p>"Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow, Bella… Edward."</p><p>She grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car, which I could see a</p><p>little ways away, parked across First Street. As they got in, Jess turned and</p><p>waved, her face eager with curiosity. I waved back, waiting for them to drive</p><p>away before I turned to face him.</p><p>"Honestly, I'm not hungry," I insisted, looking up to scrutinize his face. His</p><p>expression was unreadable.</p><p>"Humor me."</p><p>He walked to the door of the restaurant and held it open with an obstinate</p><p>expression. Obviously, there would be no further discussion. I walked past him</p><p>into the restaurant with a resigned sigh.</p><p>The restaurant wasn't crowded — it was the off-season in Port Angeles. The host</p><p>was female, and I understood the look in her eyes as she assessed Edward. She</p><p>welcomed him a little more warmly than necessary. I was surprised by how</p><p>much that bothered me. She was several inches taller than I was, and unnaturally</p><p>blond.</p><p>"A table for two?" His voice was alluring, whether he was aiming for that or not.</p><p>I saw her eyes flicker to me and then away, satisfied by my obvious ordinariness,</p><p>and by the cautious, no-contact space Edward kept between us. She led us to a</p><p>table big enough for four in the center of the most crowded area of the dining</p><p>floor.</p><p>I was about to sit, but Edward shook his head at me.</p><p>"Perhaps something more private?" he insisted quietly to the host. I wasn't sure,</p><p>but it looked like he smoothly handed her a tip. I'd never seen anyone refuse a</p><p>table except in old movies.</p><p>"Sure." She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a</p><p>partition to a small ring of booths — all of them empty. "How's this?"</p><p>"Perfect." He flashed his gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily.</p><p>"Um" — she shook her head, blinking — "your server will be right out." She</p><p>walked away unsteadily.</p><p>"You really shouldn't do that to people," I criticized. "It's hardly fair."</p><p>"Do what?"</p><p>"Dazzle them like that — she's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right</p><p>now."</p><p>He seemed confused.</p><p>"Oh, come on," I said dubiously. "You have to know the effect you have on</p><p>people."</p><p>He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. "I dazzle people?"</p><p>"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?"</p><p>He ignored my questions. "Do I dazzle you?"</p><p>"Frequently," I admitted.</p><p>And then our server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had definitely</p><p>dished behind the scenes, and this new girl didn't look disappointed. She flipped</p><p>a strand of short black hair behind one ear and smiled with unnecessary warmth.</p><p>"Hello. My name is Amber, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you to</p><p>drink?" I didn't miss that she was speaking only to him.</p><p>He looked at me.</p><p>"I'll have a Coke." It sounded like a question.</p><p>"Two Cokes," he said.</p><p>"I'll be right back with that," she assured him with another unnecessary smile.</p><p>But he didn't see it. He was watching me.</p><p>"What?" I asked when she left.</p><p>His eyes stayed fixed on my face. "How are you feeling?"</p><p>"I'm fine," I replied, surprised by his intensity.</p><p>"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?"</p><p>"Should I?"</p><p>He chuckled at my puzzled tone.</p><p>"Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock." His face twisted up into</p><p>that perfect crooked smile.</p><p>"I don't think that will happen," I said after I could breathe again. "I've always</p><p>been very good at repressing unpleasant things."</p><p>"Just the same, I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you."</p><p>Right on cue, the waitress appeared with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks.</p><p>She stood with her back to me as she placed them on the table.</p><p>"Are you ready to order?" she asked Edward.</p><p>"Bella?" he asked. She turned unwillingly toward me.</p><p>I picked the first thing I saw on the menu. "Um… I'll have the mushroom</p><p>ravioli."</p><p>"And you?" She turned back to him with a smile.</p><p>"Nothing for me," he said. Of course not.</p><p>"Let me know if you change your mind." The coy smile was still in place, but he</p><p>wasn't looking at her, and she left dissatisfied.</p><p>"Drink," he ordered.</p><p>I sipped at my soda obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by how</p><p>thirsty I was. I realized I had finished the whole thing when he pushed his glass</p><p>toward me.</p><p>"Thanks," I muttered, still thirsty. The cold from the icy soda was radiating</p><p>through my chest, and I shivered.</p><p>"Are you cold?"</p><p>"It's just the Coke," I explained, shivering again.</p><p>"Don't you have a jacket?" His voice was disapproving.</p><p>"Yes." I looked at the empty bench next to me. "Oh — I left it in Jessica's car," I</p><p>realized.</p><p>Edward was shrugging out of his jacket. I suddenly realized that I had never</p><p>once noticed what he was wearing — not just tonight, but ever. I just couldn't</p><p>seem to look away from his face. I made myself look now, focusing. He was</p><p>removing a light beige leather jacket now; underneath he wore an ivory</p><p>turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing how muscular his chest was.</p><p>He handed me the jacket, interrupting my ogling.</p><p>"Thanks," I said again, sliding my arms into his jacket. It was cold — the way</p><p>my jacket felt when I first picked it up in the morning, hanging in the drafty</p><p>hallway. I shivered again. It smelled amazing. I inhaled, trying to identify the</p><p>delicious scent. It didn't smell like cologne. The sleeves were much too long; I</p><p>shoved them back so I could free my hands.</p><p>"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," he said, watching me. I was</p><p>surprised; I looked down, flushing, of course.</p><p>He pushed the bread basket toward me.</p><p>"Really, I'm not going into shock," I protested.</p><p>"You should be — a normal</p><p>the door</p><p>reading front office. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits,</p><p>but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain</p><p>like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a</p><p>little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the</p><p>door.</p><p>Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a</p><p>little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet,</p><p>notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew</p><p>everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The</p><p>room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers</p><p>and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the</p><p>counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing</p><p>glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel</p><p>overdressed.</p><p>The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"</p><p>"I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her</p><p>eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Daughter of the Chief's flighty</p><p>ex-wife, come home at last.</p><p>"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents</p><p>on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule</p><p>right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to</p><p>show roe.</p><p>She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the</p><p>map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at</p><p>the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it</p><p>here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.</p><p>When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove</p><p>around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the</p><p>cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few</p><p>lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District.</p><p>It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The</p><p>nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon</p><p>as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me.</p><p>I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't</p><p>have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed</p><p>everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge</p><p>breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I</p><p>finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.</p><p>I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded</p><p>with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief.</p><p>Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black</p><p>"3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing</p><p>gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. I tried</p><p>holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door.</p><p>The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door</p><p>to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two</p><p>girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair.</p><p>At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here.</p><p>I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate</p><p>identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name — not</p><p>an encouraging response — and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he</p><p>sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was</p><p>harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they</p><p>managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It</p><p>was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read</p><p>everything. That was comforting… and boring. I wondered if my mom would</p><p>send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I went</p><p>through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.</p><p>When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and</p><p>hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.</p><p>"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club</p><p>type.</p><p>"Bella," I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.</p><p>"Where's your next class?" he asked.</p><p>I had to check in my bag. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."</p><p>There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.</p><p>"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way…" Definitely over-</p><p>helpful. "I'm Eric," he added.</p><p>I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."</p><p>We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could</p><p>have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I</p><p>hoped I wasn't getting paranoid.</p><p>"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.</p><p>"Very."</p><p>"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"</p><p>"Three or four times a year."</p><p>"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.</p><p>"Sunny," I told him.</p><p>"You don't look very tan."</p><p>"My mother is part albino."</p><p>He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a</p><p>sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use</p><p>sarcasm.</p><p>We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric</p><p>walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.</p><p>"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some</p><p>other classes together." He sounded hopeful.</p><p>I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.</p><p>The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry</p><p>teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject</p><p>he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and</p><p>introduce myself. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the</p><p>way to my seat.</p><p>After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There</p><p>was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and</p><p>ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but</p><p>mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.</p><p>One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the</p><p>cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four</p><p>inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our</p><p>heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled</p><p>about teachers and classes. I didn't try to keep up.</p><p>We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced</p><p>to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them. They seemed</p><p>impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved</p><p>at me from across the room.</p><p>It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven</p><p>curious strangers, that I first saw them.</p><p>They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as</p><p>possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and</p><p>they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of</p><p>them. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was</p><p>safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of</p><p>eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.</p><p>They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a</p><p>serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still</p><p>muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-</p><p>colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be</p><p>person would be. You don't even look shaken." He</p><p>seemed unsettled. He stared into my eyes, and I saw how light his eyes were,</p><p>lighter than I'd ever seen them, golden butterscotch.</p><p>"I feel very safe with you," I confessed, mesmerized into telling the truth again.</p><p>That displeased him; his alabaster brow furrowed. He shook his head, frowning.</p><p>"This is more complicated than I'd planned," he murmured to himself.</p><p>I picked up a breadstick and began nibbling on the end, measuring his</p><p>expression. I wondered when it would be okay to start questioning him.</p><p>"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," I commented,</p><p>trying to distract him from whatever thought had left him frowning and somber.</p><p>He stared at me, stunned. "What?"</p><p>"You're always crabbier when your eyes are black — I expect it then," I went on.</p><p>"I have a theory about that."</p><p>His eyes narrowed. "More theories?"</p><p>"Mm-hm." I chewed on a small bite of the bread, trying to look indifferent.</p><p>"I hope you were more creative this time… or are you still stealing from comic</p><p>books?" His faint smile was mocking; his eyes were still tight.</p><p>"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with it on my</p><p>own, either," I confessed.</p><p>"And?" he prompted.</p><p>But then the waitress strode around the partition with my food. I realized we'd</p><p>been unconsciously leaning toward each other across the table, because we both</p><p>straightened up as she approached. She set the dish in front of me — it looked</p><p>pretty good — and turned quickly to Edward.</p><p>"Did you change your mind?" she asked. "Isn't there anything I can get you?" I</p><p>may have been imagining the double meaning in her words.</p><p>"No, thank you, but some more soda would be nice." He gestured with a long</p><p>white hand to the empty cups in front of me.</p><p>"Sure." She removed the empty glasses and walked away.</p><p>"You were saying?" he asked.</p><p>"I'll tell you about it in the car. If…" I paused.</p><p>"There are conditions?" He raised one eyebrow, his voice ominous.</p><p>"I do have a few questions, of course."</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>The waitress was back with two more Cokes. She sat them down without a word</p><p>this time, and left again.</p><p>I took a sip.</p><p>"Well, go ahead," he pushed, his voice still hard.</p><p>I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. "Why are you in Port</p><p>Angeles?"</p><p>He looked down, folding his large hands together slowly on the table. His eyes</p><p>flickered up at me from under his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face.</p><p>"Next."</p><p>"But that's the easiest one," I objected.</p><p>"Next," he repeated.</p><p>I looked down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, picked up my fork, and</p><p>carefully speared a ravioli. I put it in my mouth slowly, still looking down,</p><p>chewing while I thought. The mushrooms were good. I swallowed and took</p><p>another sip of Coke before I looked up.</p><p>"Okay, then." I glared at him, and continued slowly. "Let's say, hypothetically of</p><p>course, that… someone… could know what people are thinking, read minds, you</p><p>know — with a few exceptions."</p><p>"Just one exception," he corrected, "hypothetically."</p><p>"All right, with one exception, then." I was thrilled that he was playing along,</p><p>but I tried to seem casual.</p><p>"How does that work? What are the limitations? How would… that someone…</p><p>find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he know she was in</p><p>trouble?" I wondered if my convoluted questions even made sense.</p><p>"Hypothetically?" he asked.</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>"Well, if… that someone…"</p><p>"Let's call him 'Joe,'" I suggested.</p><p>He smiled wryly. "Joe, then. If Joe had been paying attention, the timing</p><p>wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." He shook his head, rolling his eyes.</p><p>"Only you could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have</p><p>devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know."</p><p>"We were speaking of a hypothetical case," I reminded him frostily.</p><p>He laughed at me, his eyes warm.</p><p>"Yes, we were," he agreed. "Shall we call you 'Jane'?"</p><p>"How did you know?" I asked, unable to curb my intensity. I realized I was</p><p>leaning toward him again.</p><p>He seemed to be wavering, torn by some internal dilemma. His eyes locked with</p><p>mine, and I guessed he was making the decision right then whether or not to</p><p>simply tell me the truth.</p><p>"You can trust me, you know," I murmured. I reached forward, without thinking,</p><p>to touch his folded hands, but he slid them away minutely, and I pulled my hand</p><p>back.</p><p>"I don't know if I have a choice anymore." His voice was almost a whisper. "I</p><p>was wrong — you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."</p><p>"I thought you were always right."</p><p>"I used to be." He shook his head again. "I was wrong about you on one other</p><p>thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents — that's not a broad enough</p><p>classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous</p><p>within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."</p><p>"And you put yourself into that category?" I guessed.</p><p>His face turned cold, expressionless. "Unequivocally."</p><p>I stretched my hand across the table again — ignoring him when he pulled back</p><p>slightly once more — to touch the back of his hand shyly with my fingertips. His</p><p>skin was cold and hard, like a stone.</p><p>"Thank you." My voice was fervent with gratitude. "That's twice now."</p><p>His face softened. "Let's not try for three, agreed?"</p><p>I scowled, but nodded. He moved his hand out from under mine, placing both of</p><p>his under the table. But he leaned toward me.</p><p>"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never</p><p>tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than</p><p>I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people</p><p>seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes." He paused. I</p><p>wondered if it should bother me that he was following me; instead I felt a strange</p><p>surge of pleasure. He stared, maybe wondering why my lips were curving into an</p><p>involuntary smile.</p><p>"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van,</p><p>and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself.</p><p>"That wasn't the first time," he said, and his voice was hard to hear. I stared at</p><p>him in amazement, but he was looking down. "Your number was up the first</p><p>time I met you."</p><p>I felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent black</p><p>glare that first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety I felt in his presence</p><p>stifled it. By the time he looked up to read my eyes, there was no trace of fear in</p><p>them.</p><p>"You remember?" he asked, his angel's face grave.</p><p>"Yes." I was calm.</p><p>"And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in his voice; he raised one</p><p>eyebrow.</p><p>"Yes, here I sit… because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew how</p><p>to find me today… ?" I prompted.</p><p>He pressed his lips together, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding</p><p>again. His eyes flashed down to my full plate, and then back to me.</p><p>"You eat, I'll talk," he bargained.</p><p>I quickly scooped up another ravioli and popped it in my mouth.</p><p>"It's harder than it should be — keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone</p><p>very easily, once I've heard their mind before." He looked at me anxiously, and I</p><p>realized I had frozen. I made myself swallow, then stabbed another ravioli and</p><p>tossed it in.</p><p>"I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully — like I said, only you could find</p><p>trouble in Port Angeles — and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your</p><p>own. Then, when I realized that you weren't with her anymore, I went looking</p><p>for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn't gone in,</p><p>and that you'd gone south… and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So</p><p>I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on</p><p>the street — to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I</p><p>had no reason to be worried… but I was strangely anxious…" He was lost in</p><p>thought, staring past me, seeing things I couldn't imagine.</p><p>"I started</p><p>to drive in circles, still… listening. The sun was finally setting, and I</p><p>was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then —" He stopped, clenching</p><p>his teeth together in sudden fury. He made an effort to calm himself.</p><p>"Then what?" I whispered. He continued to stare over my head.</p><p>"I heard what they were thinking," he growled, his upper lip curling slightly back</p><p>over his teeth. "I saw your face in his mind." He suddenly leaned forward, one</p><p>elbow appearing on the table, his hand covering his eyes. The movement was so</p><p>swift it startled me.</p><p>"It was very… hard — you can't imagine how hard — for me to simply take you</p><p>away, and leave them… alive." His voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have</p><p>let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would</p><p>go looking for them," he admitted in a whisper.</p><p>I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands were folded in my lap,</p><p>and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. He still had his face in his</p><p>hand, and he was as still as if he'd been carved from the stone his skin resembled.</p><p>Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.</p><p>"Are you ready to go home?" he asked.</p><p>"I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we had the hour-long ride</p><p>home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him.</p><p>The waitress appeared as if she'd been called. Or watching.</p><p>"How are we doing?" she asked Edward.</p><p>"We're ready for the check, thank you." His voice was quiet, rougher, still</p><p>reflecting the strain of our conversation. It seemed to muddle her. He looked up,</p><p>waiting.</p><p>"S-sure," she stuttered. "Here you go." She pulled a small leather folder from the</p><p>front pocket of her black apron and handed it to him.</p><p>There was a bill in his hand already. He slipped it into the folder and handed it</p><p>right back to her.</p><p>"No change." He smiled. Then he stood up, and I scrambled awkwardly to my</p><p>feet.</p><p>She smiled invitingly at him again. "You have a nice evening."</p><p>He didn't look away from me as he thanked her. I suppressed a smile.</p><p>He walked close beside me to the door, still careful not to touch me. I</p><p>remembered what Jessica had said about her relationship with Mike, how they</p><p>were almost to the first-kiss stage. I sighed. Edward seemed to hear me, and he</p><p>looked down curiously. I looked at the sidewalk, grateful that he didn't seem to</p><p>be able to know what I was thinking.</p><p>He opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly</p><p>behind me. I watched him walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by</p><p>how graceful he was. I probably should have been used to that by now — but I</p><p>wasn't. I had a feeling Edward wasn't the kind of person anyone got used to.</p><p>Once inside the car, he started the engine and turned the heater on high. It had</p><p>gotten very cold, and I guessed the good weather was at an end. I was warm in</p><p>his jacket, though, breathing in the scent of it when I thought he couldn't see.</p><p>Edward pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping</p><p>around to head toward the freeway.</p><p>"Now," he said significantly, "it's your turn."</p><p>9. THEORY</p><p>"Can I ask just one more?" I pleaded as Edward accelerated much too quickly</p><p>down the quiet street. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the road.</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>"One," he agreed. His lips pressed together into a cautious line.</p><p>"Well… you said you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone</p><p>south. I was just wondering how you knew that."</p><p>He looked away, deliberating.</p><p>"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," I grumbled.</p><p>He almost smiled.</p><p>"Fine, then. I followed your scent." He looked at the road, giving me time to</p><p>compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response to that, but I filed it</p><p>carefully away for future study. I tried to refocus. I wasn't ready to let him be</p><p>finished, now that he was finally explaining things.</p><p>"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" I stalled.</p><p>He looked at me with disapproval. "Which one?"</p><p>"How does it work — the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind,</p><p>anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family… ?" I felt silly, asking</p><p>for clarification on make-believe.</p><p>"That's more than one," he pointed out. I simply intertwined my fingers and</p><p>gazed at him, waiting.</p><p>"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close.</p><p>The more familiar someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But</p><p>still, no more than a few miles." He paused thoughtfully. "It's a little like being</p><p>in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum — a</p><p>buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what</p><p>they're thinking is clear.</p><p>"Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. And then it's</p><p>easier to seem normal" — he frowned as he said the word — "when I'm not</p><p>accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."</p><p>"Why do you think you can't hear me?" I asked curiously.</p><p>He looked at me, his eyes enigmatic.</p><p>"I don't know," he murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind</p><p>doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the</p><p>AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He grinned at me, suddenly amused.</p><p>"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered me more than</p><p>they should — probably because his speculation hit home. I'd always suspected</p><p>as much, and it embarrassed me to have it confirmed.</p><p>"I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak," he laughed.</p><p>"Don't worry, it's just a theory…" His face tightened. "Which brings us back to</p><p>you."</p><p>I sighed. How to begin?</p><p>"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" he reminded me softly.</p><p>I looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. I happened to</p><p>notice the speedometer.</p><p>"Holy crow!" I shouted. "Slow down!"</p><p>"What's wrong?" He was startled. But the car didn't decelerate.</p><p>"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" I was still shouting. I shot a panicky</p><p>glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only</p><p>visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest</p><p>along both sides of the road was like a black wall — as hard as a wall of steel if</p><p>we veered off the road at this speed.</p><p>"Relax, Bella." He rolled his eyes, still not slowing.</p><p>"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded.</p><p>"We're not going to crash."</p><p>I tried to modulate my voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?"</p><p>"I always drive like this." He turned to smile crookedly at me.</p><p>"Keep your eyes on the road!"</p><p>"I've never been in an accident, Bella — I've never even gotten a ticket." He</p><p>grinned and tapped his forehead. "Built-in radar detector."</p><p>"Very funny." I fumed. "Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by</p><p>traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you</p><p>can probably just walk away."</p><p>"Probably," he agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." He sighed, and I</p><p>watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted toward eighty. "Happy?"</p><p>"Almost."</p><p>"I hate driving slow," he muttered.</p><p>"This is slow?"</p><p>"Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped. "I'm still waiting for your</p><p>latest theory."</p><p>I bit my lip. He looked down at me, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle.</p><p>"I won't laugh," he promised.</p><p>"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me."</p><p>"Is it that bad?"</p><p>"Pretty much, yeah."</p><p>He waited. I was looking down at my hands, so I couldn't see his expression.</p><p>"Go ahead." His voice was calm.</p><p>"I don't know how to start," I admitted.</p><p>"Why don't you start at the beginning… you said you didn't come up with this on</p><p>your own."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"What got you started — a book? A movie?" he probed.</p><p>"No — it was Saturday, at the beach." I risked a glance up at his face. He looked</p><p>puzzled.</p><p>"I ran into an old family friend —Jacob Black," I continued. "His dad and</p><p>Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."</p><p>He</p><p>still looked confused.</p><p>"His dad is one of the Quileute elders." I watched him carefully. His confused</p><p>expression froze in place. "We went for a walk —" I edited all my scheming out</p><p>of the story "— and he was telling me some old legends — trying to scare me, I</p><p>think. He told me one…" I hesitated.</p><p>"Go on," he said.</p><p>"About vampires." I realized I was whispering. I couldn't look at his face now.</p><p>But I saw his knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.</p><p>"And you immediately thought of me?" Still calm.</p><p>"No. He… mentioned your family."</p><p>He was silent, staring at the road.</p><p>I was worried suddenly, worried about protecting Jacob.</p><p>"He just thought it was a silly superstition," I said quickly. "He didn't expect me</p><p>to think anything of it." It didn't seem like enough; I had to confess. "It was my</p><p>fault, I forced him to tell me."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Lauren said something about you — she was trying to provoke me. And an</p><p>older boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it</p><p>sounded like he meant something different. So I got Jacob alone and I tricked it</p><p>out of him," I admitted, hanging my head.</p><p>He startled me by laughing. I glared up at him. He was laughing, but his eyes</p><p>were fierce, staring ahead.</p><p>"Tricked him how?" he asked.</p><p>"I tried to flirt — it worked better than I thought it would." Disbelief colored my</p><p>tone as I remembered.</p><p>"I'd like to have seen that." He chuckled darkly. "And you accused me of</p><p>dazzling people — poor Jacob Black."</p><p>I blushed and looked out my window into the night.</p><p>"What did you do then?" he asked after a minute.</p><p>"I did some research on the Internet."</p><p>"And did that convince you?" His voice sounded barely interested. But his hands</p><p>were clamped hard onto the steering wheel.</p><p>"No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" I stopped.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I decided it didn't matter," I whispered.</p><p>"It didn't matter?" His tone made me look up — I had finally broken through his</p><p>carefully composed mask. His face was incredulous, with just a hint of the anger</p><p>I'd feared.</p><p>"No," I said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."</p><p>A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm</p><p>not human!"</p><p>"No."</p><p>He was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak and cold.</p><p>"You're angry," I sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."</p><p>"No," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather know what you're</p><p>thinking — even if what you're thinking is insane."</p><p>"So I'm wrong again?" I challenged.</p><p>"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" he quoted, gritting his</p><p>teeth together.</p><p>"I'm right?" I gasped.</p><p>"Does it matter?"</p><p>I took a deep breath.</p><p>"Not really." I paused. "But I am curious." My voice, at least, was composed.</p><p>He was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"</p><p>"How old are you?"</p><p>"Seventeen," he answered promptly.</p><p>"And how long have you been seventeen?"</p><p>His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted at last.</p><p>"Okay." I smiled, pleased that he was still being honest with me. He stared down</p><p>at me with watchful eyes, much as he had before, when he was worried I would</p><p>go into shock. I smiled wider in encouragement, and he frowned.</p><p>"Don't laugh — but how can you come out during the daytime?"</p><p>He laughed anyway. "Myth."</p><p>"Burned by the sun?"</p><p>"Myth."</p><p>"Sleeping in coffins?"</p><p>"Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. "I</p><p>can't sleep."</p><p>It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?"</p><p>"Never," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. He turned to look at me with a</p><p>wistful expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost my train of thought. I</p><p>stared at him until he looked away.</p><p>"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voice was hard</p><p>now, and when he looked at me again his eyes were cold.</p><p>I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"</p><p>"You aren't concerned about my diet?" he asked sarcastically.</p><p>"Oh," I murmured, "that."</p><p>"Yes, that." His voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"</p><p>I flinched. "Well, Jacob said something about that."</p><p>"What did Jacob say?" he asked flatly.</p><p>"He said you didn't… hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed to be</p><p>dangerous because you only hunted animals."</p><p>"He said we weren't dangerous?" His voice was deeply skeptical.</p><p>"Not exactly. He said you weren't supposed to be dangerous. But the Quileutes</p><p>still didn't want you on their land, just in case."</p><p>He looked forward, but I couldn't tell if he was watching the road or not.</p><p>"So was he right? About not hunting people?" I tried to keep my voice as even as</p><p>possible.</p><p>"The Quileutes have a long memory," he whispered.</p><p>I took it as a confirmation.</p><p>"Don't let that make you complacent, though," he warned me. "They're right to</p><p>keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."</p><p>"I don't understand."</p><p>"We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do.</p><p>Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone</p><p>with you."</p><p>"This is a mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't know if he</p><p>could as well.</p><p>"A very dangerous one," he murmured.</p><p>We were both silent then. I watched the headlights twist with the curves of the</p><p>road. They moved too fast; it didn't look real, it looked like a video game. I was</p><p>aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like the black road beneath us, and I</p><p>was hideously afraid that I would never have another chance to be with him like</p><p>this again — openly, the walls between us gone for once. His words hinted at an</p><p>end, and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with him.</p><p>"Tell me more," I asked desperately, not caring what he said, just so I could hear</p><p>his voice again.</p><p>He looked at me quickly, startled by the change in my tone. "What more do you</p><p>want to know?"</p><p>"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested, my voice still</p><p>tinged with desperation. I realized my eyes were wet, and I fought against the</p><p>grief that was trying to overpower me.</p><p>"I don't want to be a monster." His voice was very low.</p><p>"But animals aren't enough?"</p><p>He paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy</p><p>milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely</p><p>satiate the hunger — or rather thirst. But it keens us strong enough to resist.</p><p>Most of the time." His tone turned ominous. "Sometimes it's more difficult than</p><p>others."</p><p>"Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked.</p><p>He sighed. "Yes."</p><p>"But you're not hungry now," I said confidently — stating, not asking.</p><p>"Why do you think that?"</p><p>"Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people — men in</p><p>particular — are crabbier when they're hungry."</p><p>He chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"</p><p>I didn't answer; I just listened to the sound of his laugh, committing it to memory.</p><p>"Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?" I asked when it was quiet again.</p><p>"Yes." He paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I</p><p>didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when</p><p>I'm not thirsty."</p><p>"Why didn't you want to leave?"</p><p>"It makes me… anxious… to be away from you." His eyes were gentle but</p><p>intense, and they seemed to be making my bones turn soft. "I wasn't joking when</p><p>I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was</p><p>distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight,</p><p>I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed." He</p><p>shook his head, and then seemed to remember something. "Well, not totally</p><p>unscathed."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Your hands," he reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at the almost-healed</p><p>scrapes across the heels of my hands. His eyes missed nothing.</p><p>"I fell," I sighed.</p><p>"That's what I thought." His lips curved up at the corners. "I suppose, being you,</p><p>it could have been much worse — and that possibility tormented me the entire</p><p>time I was away. It</p><p>was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett's nerves."</p><p>He smiled ruefully at me.</p><p>"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?"</p><p>"No, we got back Sunday."</p><p>"Then why weren't any of you in school?" I was frustrated, almost angry as I</p><p>thought of how much disappointment I had suffered because of his absence.</p><p>"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the</p><p>sunlight — at least, not where anyone can see."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"I'll show you sometime," he promised.</p><p>I thought about it for a moment.</p><p>"You might have called me," I decided.</p><p>He was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."</p><p>"But I didn't know where you were. I —" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.</p><p>"What?" His velvety voice was compelling.</p><p>"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too." I blushed to be</p><p>saying this out loud.</p><p>He was quiet. I glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression was</p><p>pained.</p><p>"Ah," he groaned quietly. "This is wrong."</p><p>I couldn't understand his response. "What did I say?"</p><p>"Don't you see, Bella? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a</p><p>wholly other thing for you to be so involved." He turned his anguished eyes to</p><p>the road, his words flowing almost too fast for me to understand. "I don't want to</p><p>hear that you feel that way." His voice was low but urgent. His words cut me.</p><p>"It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Bella — please, grasp that."</p><p>"No." I tried very hard not to look like a sulky child.</p><p>"I'm serious," he growled.</p><p>"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter what you are. It's too late."</p><p>His voice whipped out, low and harsh. "Never say that."</p><p>I bit my lip and was glad he couldn't know how much that hurt. I stared out at</p><p>the road. We must be close now. He was driving much too fast.</p><p>"What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice still raw. I just shook my head, not</p><p>sure if I could speak. I could feel his gaze on my face, but I kept my eyes</p><p>forward.</p><p>"Are you crying?" He sounded appalled. I hadn't realized the moisture in my</p><p>eyes had brimmed over. I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure</p><p>enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me.</p><p>"No," I said, but my voice cracked.</p><p>I saw him reach toward me hesitantly with his right hand, but then he stopped</p><p>and placed it slowly back on the steering wheel.</p><p>"I'm sorry." His voice burned with regret. I knew he wasn't just apologizing for</p><p>the words that had upset me.</p><p>The darkness slipped by us in silence.</p><p>"Tell me something," he asked after another minute, and I could hear him</p><p>struggle to use a lighter tone.</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I</p><p>couldn't understand your expression — you didn't look that scared, you looked</p><p>like you were concentrating very hard on something."</p><p>"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker — you know, self-</p><p>defense. I was going to smash his nose into his brain." I thought of the dark-</p><p>haired man with a surge of hate.</p><p>"You were going to fight them?" This upset him. "Didn't you think about</p><p>running?"</p><p>"I fall down a lot when I run," I admitted.</p><p>"What about screaming for help?"</p><p>"I was getting to that part."</p><p>He shook his head. "You were right — I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep</p><p>you alive."</p><p>I sighed. We were slowing, passing into the boundaries of Forks. It had taken</p><p>less than twenty minutes.</p><p>"Will I see you tomorrow?" I demanded.</p><p>"Yes — I have a paper due, too." He smiled. "I'll save you a seat at lunch."</p><p>It was silly, after everything we'd been through tonight, how that little promise</p><p>sent flutters through my stomach, and made me unable to speak.</p><p>We were in front of Charlie's house. The lights were on, my truck in its place,</p><p>everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream. He stopped the car,</p><p>but I didn't move.</p><p>"Do you promise to be there tomorrow?"</p><p>"I promise."</p><p>I considered that for a moment, then nodded. I pulled his jacket off, taking one</p><p>last whiff.</p><p>"You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me.</p><p>I handed it back to him. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie."</p><p>"Oh, right." He grinned.</p><p>I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment.</p><p>"Bella?" he asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.</p><p>"Yes?" I turned back to him too eagerly.</p><p>"Will you promise me something?"</p><p>"Yes," I said, and instantly regretted my unconditional agreement. What if he</p><p>asked me to stay away from him? I couldn't keep that promise.</p><p>"Don't go into the woods alone."</p><p>I stared at him in blank confusion. "Why?"</p><p>He frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past me out the window.</p><p>"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that."</p><p>I shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in his voice, but I was relieved.</p><p>This, at least, was an easy promise to honor. "Whatever you say."</p><p>"I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed, and I knew he wanted me to leave now.</p><p>"Tomorrow, then." I opened the door unwillingly.</p><p>"Bella?" I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious face just</p><p>inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.</p><p>"Sleep well," he said. His breath blew in my face, stunning me. It was the same</p><p>exquisite scent that clung to his jacket, but in a more concentrated form. I</p><p>blinked, thoroughly dazed. He leaned away.</p><p>I was unable to move until my brain had somewhat unscrambled itself. Then I</p><p>stepped out of the car awkwardly, having to use the frame for support. I thought</p><p>I heard him chuckle, but the sound was too quiet for me to be certain.</p><p>He waited till I had stumbled to the front door, and then I heard his engine</p><p>quietly rev. I turned to watch the silver car disappear around the corner. I</p><p>realized it was very cold.</p><p>I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.</p><p>Charlie called from the living room. "Bella?"</p><p>"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I walked in to see him. He was watching a baseball game.</p><p>"You're home early."</p><p>"Am I?" I was surprised.</p><p>"It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did you girls have fun?"</p><p>"Yeah — it was lots of fun." My head was spinning as I tried to remember all the</p><p>way back to the girls' night out I had planned. "They both found dresses."</p><p>"Are you all right?"</p><p>"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking."</p><p>"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I wondered what</p><p>my face looked like.</p><p>"I'm just going to call Jessica first."</p><p>"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.</p><p>"Yes — but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it</p><p>tomorrow."</p><p>"Well, give her a chance to get home first."</p><p>"Right," I agreed.</p><p>I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was really feeling dizzy</p><p>now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all. Get a grip, I told</p><p>myself.</p><p>The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I yanked it off the hook.</p><p>"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.</p><p>"Bella?"</p><p>"Hey, Jess, I was just going to call you."</p><p>"You made it home?" Her voice was relieved… and surprised.</p><p>"Yes. I left my jacket in your car — could you bring it to me tomorrow?"</p><p>"Sure. But tell me what happened!" she demanded.</p><p>"Um, tomorrow — in Trig, okay?"</p><p>She caught on quickly. "Oh, is your dad there?"</p><p>"Yes, that's right."</p><p>"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. Bye!" I could hear the impatience in her</p><p>voice.</p><p>"Bye, Jess."</p><p>I walked up the stairs slowly, a heavy stupor clouding my mind. I went through</p><p>the motions of getting ready for bed without paying any attention to what I was</p><p>doing. It wasn't until I was in the shower — the water too hot, burning my skin</p><p>— that I realized I was freezing. I shuddered violently for several minutes before</p><p>the steaming spray could finally relax my rigid muscles. Then I stood in the</p><p>shower, too tired to move, until the hot water began to run out.</p><p>I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely in a towel, trying to hold the heat from</p><p>the water in so the aching shivers wouldn't return. I dressed for bed swiftly and</p><p>climbed under my quilt, curling into a ball, hugging myself to keep warm.</p><p>A few</p><p>small shudders trembled through me.</p><p>My mind still swirled dizzily, full of images I couldn't understand, and some I</p><p>fought to repress. Nothing seemed clear at first, but as I fell gradually closer to</p><p>unconsciousness, a few certainties became evident.</p><p>About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire.</p><p>Second, there was part of him — and I didn't know how potent that part might be</p><p>— that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in</p><p>love with him.</p><p>10. INTERROGATIONS</p><p>It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was sure last</p><p>night was a dream. Logic wasn't on my side, or common sense. I clung to the</p><p>parts I couldn't have imagined — like his smell. I was sure I could never have</p><p>dreamed that up on my own.</p><p>It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. He had no reason</p><p>not to be in school today. I dressed in my heavy clothes, remembering I didn't</p><p>have a jacket. Further proof that my memory was real.</p><p>When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again — I was running later than I'd</p><p>realized. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down with milk</p><p>straight from the carton, and then hurried out the door. Hopefully the rain would</p><p>hold off until I could find Jessica.</p><p>It was unusually foggy; the air was almost smoky with it. The mist was ice cold</p><p>where it clung to the exposed skin on my face and neck. I couldn't wait to get the</p><p>heat going in my truck. It was such a thick fog that I was a few feet down the</p><p>driveway before I realized there was a car in it: a silver car. My heart thudded,</p><p>stuttered, and then picked up again in double time.</p><p>I didn't see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling the door</p><p>open for me.</p><p>"Do you want to ride with me today?" he asked, amused by my expression as he</p><p>caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in his voice. He was</p><p>really giving me a choice — I was free to refuse, and part of him hoped for that.</p><p>It was a vain hope.</p><p>"Yes, thank you," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. As I stepped into the</p><p>warm car, I noticed his tan jacket was slung over the headrest of the passenger</p><p>seat. The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be possible, he was</p><p>sitting next to me, starting the car.</p><p>"I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sick or something." His</p><p>voice was guarded. I noticed that he wore no jacket himself, just a light gray knit</p><p>V-neck shirt with long sleeves. Again, the fabric clung to his perfectly muscled</p><p>chest. It was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his</p><p>body.</p><p>"I'm not quite that delicate," I said, but I pulled the jacket onto my lap, pushing</p><p>my arms through the too-long sleeves, curious to see if the scent could possibly</p><p>be as good as I remembered. It was better.</p><p>"Aren't you?" he contradicted in a voice so low I wasn't sure if he meant for me</p><p>to hear.</p><p>We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast, feeling awkward. I</p><p>was, at least. Last night all the walls were down… almost all. I didn't know if we</p><p>were still being as candid today. It left me tongue-tied. I waited for him to speak.</p><p>He turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?"</p><p>"Do my questions bother you?" I asked, relieved.</p><p>"Not as much as your reactions do." He looked like he was joking, but I couldn't</p><p>be sure.</p><p>I frowned. "Do I react badly?"</p><p>"No, that's the problem. You take everything so coolly — it's unnatural. It makes</p><p>me wonder what you're really thinking."</p><p>"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."</p><p>"You edit," he accused.</p><p>"Not very much."</p><p>"Enough to drive me insane."</p><p>"You don't want to hear it," I mumbled, almost whispered. As soon as the words</p><p>were out, I regretted them. The pain in my voice was very faint; I could only</p><p>hope he hadn't noticed it.</p><p>He didn't respond, and I wondered if I had ruined the mood. His face was</p><p>unreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to me</p><p>belatedly.</p><p>"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked — more than glad to be alone with</p><p>him, but remembering that his car was usually full.</p><p>"They took Rosalie's car." He shrugged as he parked next to a glossy red</p><p>convertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"</p><p>"Um, wow," I breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"</p><p>"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."</p><p>"You don't succeed." I laughed and shook my head as we got out of the car. I</p><p>wasn't late anymore; his lunatic driving had gotten me to school in plenty of</p><p>time. "So why did Rosalie drive today if it's more conspicuous?"</p><p>"Hadn't you noticed? I'm breaking all the rules now." He met me at the front of</p><p>the car, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus. I wanted to</p><p>close that little distance, to reach out and touch him, but I was afraid he wouldn't</p><p>like me to.</p><p>"Why do you have cars like that at all?" I wondered aloud. "If you're looking for</p><p>privacy?"</p><p>"An indulgence," he admitted with an impish smile. "We all like to drive fast."</p><p>"Figures," I muttered under my breath.</p><p>Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jessica was waiting, her eyes</p><p>about to bug out of their sockets. Over her arm, bless her, was my jacket.</p><p>"Hey, Jessica," I said when we were a few feet away. "Thanks for</p><p>remembering." She handed me my jacket without speaking.</p><p>"Good morning, Jessica," Edward said politely. It wasn't really his fault that his</p><p>voice was so irresistible. Or what his eyes were capable of.</p><p>"Er… hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather her jumbled</p><p>thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me a meaningful look, and I</p><p>suppressed a sigh. What on earth was I going to tell her?</p><p>"Yeah, I'll see you then."</p><p>She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.</p><p>"What are you going to tell her?" Edward murmured.</p><p>"Hey, I thought you couldn't read my mind!" I hissed.</p><p>"I can't," he said, startled. Then understanding brightened his eyes. "However, I</p><p>can read hers — she'll be waiting to ambush you in class."</p><p>I groaned as I pulled off his jacket and handed it to him, replacing it with my</p><p>own. He folded it over his arm.</p><p>"So what are you going to tell her?"</p><p>"A little help?" I pleaded. "What does she want to know?"</p><p>He shook his head, grinning wickedly. "That's not fair."</p><p>"No, you not sharing what you know — now that's not fair."</p><p>He deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my</p><p>first class.</p><p>"She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you</p><p>feel about me," he finally said.</p><p>"Yikes. What should I say?" I tried to keep my expression very innocent. People</p><p>were passing us on their way to class, probably staring, but I was barely aware of</p><p>them.</p><p>"Hmmm." He paused to catch a stray lock of hair that was escaping the twist on</p><p>my neck and wound it back into place. My heart spluttered hyperactively. "I</p><p>suppose you could say yes to the first… if you don't mind — it's easier than any</p><p>other explanation."</p><p>"I don't mind," I said in a faint voice.</p><p>"And as for her other question… well, I'll be listening to hear the answer to that</p><p>one myself." One side of his mouth pulled up into my favorite uneven smile. I</p><p>couldn't catch my breath soon enough to respond to that remark. He turned and</p><p>walked away.</p><p>"I'll see you at lunch," he called over his shoulder. Three people walking in the</p><p>door stopped to stare at me.</p><p>I hurried into class, flushed and irritated. He was such a cheater. Now I was even</p><p>more worried about what I was going to say to Jessica. I sat in my usual seat,</p><p>slamming my bag down in aggravation.</p><p>"Morning, Bella," Mike said from the seat next to me. I looked up to see an odd,</p><p>almost resigned look on his face. "How was Port Angeles?"</p><p>"It was…" There was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," I finished lamely.</p><p>"Jessica got a really cute dress."</p><p>"Did she say anything about Monday night?" he asked, his eyes brightening. I</p><p>smiled at the turn the conversation</p><p>had taken.</p><p>"She said she had a really good time," I assured him.</p><p>"She did?" he said eagerly.</p><p>"Most definitely."</p><p>Mr. Mason called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our papers. English</p><p>and then Government passed in a blur, while I worried about how to explain</p><p>things to Jessica and agonized over whether Edward would really be listening to</p><p>what I said through the medium of Jess's thoughts. How very inconvenient his</p><p>little talent could be — when it wasn't saving my life.</p><p>The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still</p><p>dark with low, oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky.</p><p>Edward was right, of course. When I walked into Trig Jessica was sitting in the</p><p>back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. I reluctantly went to sit by</p><p>her, trying to convince myself it would be better to get it over with as soon as</p><p>possible.</p><p>"Tell me everything!" she commanded before I was in the seat.</p><p>"What do you want to know?" I hedged.</p><p>"What happened last night?"</p><p>"He bought me dinner, and then he drove me home."</p><p>She glared at me, her expression stiff with skepticism. "How did you get home</p><p>so fast?"</p><p>"He drives like a maniac. It was terrifying." I hoped he heard that.</p><p>"Was it like a date — did you tell him to meet you there?"</p><p>I hadn't thought of that. "No — I was very surprised to see him there."</p><p>Her lips puckered in disappointment at the transparent honesty in my voice.</p><p>"But he picked you up for school today?" she probed.</p><p>"Yes — that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn't have a jacket last night," I</p><p>explained.</p><p>"So are you going out again?"</p><p>"He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks toy truck isn't up</p><p>to it — does that count?"</p><p>"Yes." She nodded.</p><p>"Well, then, yes."</p><p>"W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into three syllables. "Edward Cullen."</p><p>"I know," I agreed. "Wow" didn't even cover it.</p><p>"Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic. "Has</p><p>he kissed you?"</p><p>"No," I mumbled. "It's not like that."</p><p>She looked disappointed. I'm sure I did, too.</p><p>"Do you think Saturday… ?" She raised her eyebrows.</p><p>"I really doubt it." The discontent in my voice was poorly disguised.</p><p>"What did you talk about?" She pushed for more information in a whisper. Class</p><p>had started but Mr. Varner wasn't paying close attention and we weren't the only</p><p>ones still talking.</p><p>"I don't know, Jess, lots of stuff," I whispered back. "We talked about the</p><p>English essay a little." A very, very little. I think he mentioned it in passing.</p><p>"Please, Bella," she begged. "Give me some details."</p><p>"Well… okay, I've got one. You should have seen the waitress flirting with him</p><p>— it was over the top. But he didn't pay any attention to her at all." Let him</p><p>make what he could of that.</p><p>"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was she pretty?"</p><p>"Very — and probably nineteen or twenty."</p><p>"Even better. He must like you."</p><p>"I think so, but it's hard to tell. He's always so cryptic," I threw in for his benefit,</p><p>sighing.</p><p>"I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she breathed.</p><p>"Why?" I was shocked, but she didn't understand my reaction.</p><p>"He's so… intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." She made a face,</p><p>probably remembering this morning or last night, when he'd turned the</p><p>overwhelming force of his eyes on her.</p><p>"I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around him," I admitted.</p><p>"Oh well. He is unbelievably gorgeous." Jessica shrugged as if this excused any</p><p>flaws. Which, in her book, it probably did.</p><p>"There's a lot more to him than that."</p><p>"Really? Like what?"</p><p>I wished I had let it go. Almost as much as I was hoping he'd been kidding about</p><p>listening in.</p><p>"I can't explain it right… but he's even more unbelievable behind the face." The</p><p>vampire who wanted to be good — who ran around saving people's lives so he</p><p>wouldn't be a monster… I stared toward the front of the room.</p><p>"Is that possible?" She giggled.</p><p>I ignored her, trying to look like I was paying attention to Mr. Varner.</p><p>"So you like him, then?" She wasn't about to give up.</p><p>"Yes," I said curtly.</p><p>"I mean, do you really like him?" she urged.</p><p>"Yes," I said again, blushing. I hoped that detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.</p><p>She'd had enough with the single syllable answers. "How much do you like him?"</p><p>"Too much," I whispered back. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how I</p><p>can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.</p><p>Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer.</p><p>She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as</p><p>the bell rang, I took evasive action.</p><p>"In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about Monday night," I told her.</p><p>"You're kidding! What did you say?!" she gasped, completely sidetracked.</p><p>"I told him you said you had a lot of fun — he looked pleased."</p><p>"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!"</p><p>We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish</p><p>on a minute description of Mike's facial expressions. I wouldn't have helped</p><p>draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried about the subject returning to</p><p>me.</p><p>And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my</p><p>books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped Jessica off.</p><p>"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.</p><p>"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappear inconveniently</p><p>again.</p><p>But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall — looking</p><p>more like a Greek god than anyone had a right to — Edward was waiting for me.</p><p>Jessica took one look, rolled her eyes, and departed.</p><p>"See you later, Bella." Her voice was thick with implications. I might have to</p><p>turn off the ringer on the phone.</p><p>"Hello." His voice was amused and irritated at the same time. He had been</p><p>listening, it was obvious.</p><p>"Hi."</p><p>I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak — biding his time, I</p><p>presumed — so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Edward</p><p>through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first day here; everyone</p><p>stared.</p><p>He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though his eyes returned to my</p><p>face every few seconds, their expression speculative. It seemed to me that</p><p>irritation was winning out over amusement as the dominant emotion in his face. I</p><p>fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my jacket.</p><p>He stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.</p><p>"What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?"</p><p>He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.</p><p>"Half is for me, of course."</p><p>I raised one eyebrow.</p><p>He led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before. From the other</p><p>end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in amazement as we sat</p><p>across from each other. Edward seemed oblivious.</p><p>"Take whatever you want," he said, pushing the tray toward me.</p><p>"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my hands,</p><p>"what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"</p><p>"You're always curious." He grimaced, shaking his head. He glared at me,</p><p>holding my eyes as he lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, and deliberately bit</p><p>off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I watched, eyes wide.</p><p>"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" he asked</p><p>condescendingly.</p><p>I wrinkled my nose. "I did once… on a dare," I admitted. "It wasn't so bad."</p><p>He laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." Something over my shoulder seemed</p><p>to catch his attention.</p><p>"Jessica's analyzing everything I do — she'll break it down for you later." He</p><p>pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Jessica brought a hint of</p><p>his former irritation back to his features.</p><p>I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing he was</p><p>about to start.</p><p>"So the waitress was pretty, was she?" he asked casually.</p><p>"You really didn't notice?"</p><p>"No. I wasn't paying attention. I had</p><p>a lot on my mind."</p><p>"Poor girl." I could afford to be generous now.</p><p>"Something you said to Jessica… well, it bothers me." He refused to be</p><p>distracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up from under his lashes with</p><p>troubled eyes.</p><p>"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what they say</p><p>about eavesdropners," I reminded him.</p><p>"I warned you I would be listening."</p><p>"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."</p><p>"You did," he agreed, but his voice was still rough. "You aren't precisely right,</p><p>though. I do want to know what you're thinking — everything. I just wish… that</p><p>you wouldn't be thinking some things."</p><p>I scowled. "That's quite a distinction."</p><p>"But that's not really the point at the moment."</p><p>"Then what is?" We were inclined toward each other across the table now. He</p><p>had his large white hands folded under his chin; I leaned forward, my right hand</p><p>cupped around my neck. I had to remind myself that we were in a crowded</p><p>lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us. It was too easy to get</p><p>wrapped up in our own private, tense little bubble.</p><p>"Do you truly believe that you care more for me than I do for you?" he</p><p>murmured, leaning closer to me as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.</p><p>I tried to remember how to exhale. I had to look away before it came back to me.</p><p>"You're doing it again," I muttered.</p><p>His eyes opened wide with surprise. "What?"</p><p>"Dazzling me," I admitted, trying to concentrate as I looked back at him.</p><p>"Oh." He frowned.</p><p>"It's not your fault," I sighed. "You can't help it."</p><p>"Are you going to answer the question?"</p><p>I looked down. "Yes."</p><p>"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really think that?" He was irritated</p><p>again.</p><p>"Yes, I really think that." I kept my eyes down on the table, my eyes tracing the</p><p>pattern of the faux wood grains printed on the laminate. The silence dragged on.</p><p>I stubbornly refused to be the first to break it this time, fighting hard against the</p><p>temptation to peek at his expression.</p><p>Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. "You're wrong."</p><p>I glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle.</p><p>"You can't know that," I disagreed in a whisper. I shook my head in doubt,</p><p>though my heart throbbed at his words and I wanted so badly to believe them.</p><p>"What makes you think so?" His liquid topaz eyes were penetrating — trying</p><p>futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight from my mind.</p><p>I stared back, struggling to think clearly in spite of his face, to find some way to</p><p>explain. As I searched for the words, I could see him getting impatient; frustrated</p><p>by my silence, he started to scowl. I lifted my hand from my neck, and held up</p><p>one finger.</p><p>"Let me think," I insisted. His expression cleared, now that he was satisfied that I</p><p>was planning to answer. I dropped my hand to the table, moving my left hand so</p><p>that my palms were pressed together. I stared at my hands, twisting and</p><p>untwisting my fingers, as I finally spoke.</p><p>"Well, aside from the obvious, sometimes…" I hesitated. "I can't be sure — I</p><p>don't know how to read minds — but sometimes it seems like you're trying to</p><p>say goodbye when you're saying something else." That was the best I could sum</p><p>up the sensation of anguish that his words triggered in me at times.</p><p>"Perceptive," he whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as he</p><p>confirmed my fear. "That's exactly why you're wrong, though," he began to</p><p>explain, but then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'the obvious'?"</p><p>"Well, look at me," I said, unnecessarily as he was already staring. "I'm</p><p>absolutely ordinary — well, except for bad things like all the near-death</p><p>experiences and being so clumsy that I'm almost disabled. And look at you." I</p><p>waved my hand toward him and all his bewildering perfection.</p><p>His brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his eyes took on a</p><p>knowing look. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I'll admit you're</p><p>dead-on about the bad things," he chuckled blackly, "but you didn't hear what</p><p>every human male in this school was thinking on your first day."</p><p>I blinked, astonished. "I don't believe it…" I mumbled to myself.</p><p>"Trust me just this once — you are the opposite of ordinary."</p><p>My embarrassment was much stronger than my pleasure at the look that came</p><p>into his eyes when he said this. I quickly reminded him of my original argument.</p><p>"But I'm not saying goodbye," I pointed out.</p><p>"Don't you see? That's what proves me right. I care the most, because if I can do</p><p>it" — he shook his head, seeming to struggle with the thought — "if leaving is</p><p>the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you</p><p>safe."</p><p>I glared. "And you don't think I would do the same?"</p><p>"You'd never have to make the choice."</p><p>Abruptly, his unpredictable mood shifted again; a mischievous, devastating</p><p>smile rearranged his features. "Of course, keeping you safe is beginning to feel</p><p>like a full-time occupation that requires my constant presence."</p><p>"No one has tried to do away with me today," I reminded him, grateful for the</p><p>lighter subject. I didn't want him to talk about goodbyes anymore. If I had to, I</p><p>supposed I could purposefully put myself in danger to keep him close… I</p><p>banished that thought before his quick eyes read it on my face. That idea would</p><p>definitely get me in trouble.</p><p>"Yet," he added.</p><p>"Yet," I agreed; I would have argued, but now I wanted him to be expecting</p><p>disasters.</p><p>"I have another question for you." His face was still casual.</p><p>"Shoot."</p><p>"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to</p><p>get out of saying no to all your admirers?"</p><p>I made a face at the memory. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the Tyler</p><p>thing yet," I warned him. "It's your fault that he's deluded himself into thinking</p><p>I'm going to prom with him."</p><p>"Oh, he would have found a chance to ask you without me — I just really</p><p>wanted to watch your face," he chuckled, I would have been angrier if his</p><p>laughter wasn't so fascinating. "If I'd asked you, would you have turned me</p><p>down?" he asked, still laughing to himself.</p><p>"Probably not," I admitted. "But I would have canceled later — faked an illness</p><p>or a sprained ankle."</p><p>He was puzzled. "Why would you do that?"</p><p>I shook my head sadly. "You've never seen me in Gym, I guess, but I would</p><p>have thought you would understand."</p><p>"Are you referring to the fact that you can't walk across a flat, stable surface</p><p>without finding something to trip over?"</p><p>"Obviously."</p><p>"That wouldn't be a problem." He was very confident. "It's all in the leading." He</p><p>could see that I was about to protest, and he cut me off. "But you never told me</p><p>— are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something</p><p>different?"</p><p>As long as the "we" part was in, I didn't care about anything else.</p><p>"I'm open to alternatives," I allowed. "But I do have a favor to ask."</p><p>He looked wary, as he always did when I asked an open-ended question. "What?"</p><p>"Can I drive?"</p><p>He frowned. "Why?"</p><p>"Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he specifically</p><p>asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably</p><p>wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask again, and leaving my truck at home</p><p>would just bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, because your driving</p><p>frightens me."</p><p>He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you</p><p>worry about my driving." He shook his head in disgust, but then his eyes were</p><p>serious again. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day</p><p>with me?" There was an undercurrent to his question that I didn't understand.</p><p>"With Charlie, less is always more." I was definite about that. "Where are we</p><p>going, anyway?"</p><p>"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye… and you can</p><p>stay with me, if you'd like to." Again, he was leaving the choice up to me.</p><p>"And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?" I asked, excited by the</p><p>idea of unraveling another</p><p>of the unknowns.</p><p>"Yes." He smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be… alone with</p><p>me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the</p><p>trouble you could find in a city that size."</p><p>I was miffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle — just in population. In</p><p>physical size —"</p><p>"But apparently," he interrupted me, "your number wasn't up in Phoenix. So I'd</p><p>rather you stayed near me." His eyes did that unfair smoldering thing again.</p><p>I couldn't argue, with the eyes or the motivation, and it was a moot point</p><p>anyway. "As it happens, I don't mind being alone with you."</p><p>"I know," he sighed, brooding. "You should tell Charlie, though."</p><p>"Why in the world would I do that?"</p><p>His eyes were suddenly fierce. "To give me some small incentive to bring you</p><p>back."</p><p>I gulped. But, after a moment of thought, I was sure. "I think I'll take my</p><p>chances."</p><p>He exhaled angrily, and looked away.</p><p>"Let's talk about something else," I suggested.</p><p>"What do you want to talk about?" he asked. He was still annoyed.</p><p>I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As I cast</p><p>my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Alice, staring at me.</p><p>The others were looking at Edward. I looked away swiftly, back to him, and I.</p><p>asked the first thing that came to mind.</p><p>"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt? Charlie said</p><p>it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."</p><p>He stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.</p><p>"Bears?" I gasped, and he smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," I added</p><p>sternly, to hide my shock.</p><p>"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he informed</p><p>me.</p><p>He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.</p><p>"Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.</p><p>"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite." His voice was still offhand, but his eyes were</p><p>scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.</p><p>"Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I</p><p>chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.</p><p>"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze. "What's your</p><p>favorite?"</p><p>He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval.</p><p>"Mountain lion."</p><p>"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.</p><p>"Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored mine, "we have to be careful not to</p><p>impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with</p><p>an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far away as we need. There's</p><p>always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but where's the fun in that?"</p><p>He smiled teasingly.</p><p>"Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of pizza.</p><p>"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season — they're just coming out of</p><p>hibernation, so they're more irritable." He smiled at some remembered joke.</p><p>"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.</p><p>He snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."</p><p>"I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," I admitted. "How do you hunt a bear</p><p>without weapons?"</p><p>"Oh, we have weapons." He flashed his bright teeth in a brief, threatening smile.</p><p>I fought back a shiver before it could expose me. "Just not the kind they consider</p><p>when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you</p><p>should be able to visualize Emmett hunting."</p><p>I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked across the</p><p>cafeteria toward Emmett, grateful that he wasn't looking my way. The thick</p><p>bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more</p><p>menacing now.</p><p>Edward followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at him, unnerved.</p><p>"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.</p><p>"More like the lion, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhaps our preferences</p><p>are indicative."</p><p>I tried to smile. "Perhaps," I repeated. But my mind was filled with opposing</p><p>images that I couldn't merge together. "Is that something I might get to see?"</p><p>"Absolutely not!" His face turned even whiter than usual, and his eyes were</p><p>suddenly furious. I leaned back, stunned and — though I'd never admit it to him</p><p>— frightened by his reaction. He leaned back as well, folding his arms across his</p><p>chest.</p><p>"Too scary for me?" I asked when I could control my voice again.</p><p>"If that were it, I would take you out tonight," he said, his voice cutting. "You</p><p>need a healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you."</p><p>"Then why?" I pressed, trying to ignore his angry expression.</p><p>He glared at me for a long minute.</p><p>"Later," he finally said. He was on his feet in one lithe movement. "We're going</p><p>to be late."</p><p>I glanced around, startled to see that he was right and the cafeteria was nearly</p><p>vacant. When I was with him, the time and the place were such a muddled blur</p><p>that I completely lost track of both. I jumped up, grabbing my bag from the back</p><p>of my chair.</p><p>"Later, then," I agreed. I wouldn't forget.</p><p>11. COMPLICATIONS</p><p>Everyone watched us as we walked together to our lab table. I noticed that he no</p><p>longer angled the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, he</p><p>sat quite close beside me, our arms almost touching.</p><p>Mr. Banner backed into the room then — what superb timing the man had —</p><p>pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that held a heavy-looking, outdated TV and</p><p>VCR. A movie day — the lift in the class atmosphere was almost tangible.</p><p>Mr. Banner shoved the tape into the reluctant VCR and walked to the wall to</p><p>turn off the lights.</p><p>And then, as the room went black, I was suddenly hyperaware that Edward was</p><p>sitting less than an inch from me. I was stunned by the unexpected electricity</p><p>that flowed through me, amazed that it was possible to be more aware of him</p><p>than I already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and touch him, to stroke his</p><p>perfect face just once in the darkness, nearly overwhelmed me. I crossed my</p><p>arms tightly across my chest, my hands balling into fists. I was losing my mind.</p><p>The opening credits began, lighting the room by a token amount. My eyes, of</p><p>their own accord, flickered to him. I smiled sheepishly as I realized his posture</p><p>was identical to mine, fists clenched under his arms, right down to the eyes,</p><p>peering sideways at me. He grinned back, his eyes somehow managing to</p><p>smolder, even in the dark. I looked away before I could start hyperventilating. It</p><p>was absolutely ridiculous that I should feel dizzy.</p><p>The hour seemed very long. I couldn't concentrate on the movie — I didn't even</p><p>know what subject it was on. I tried unsuccessfully to relax, but the electric</p><p>current that seemed to be originating from somewhere in his body never</p><p>slackened. Occasionally I would permit myself a quick glance in his direction,</p><p>but he never seemed to relax, either. The overpowering craving to touch him also</p><p>refused to fade, and I crushed my fists safely against my ribs until my fingers</p><p>were aching with the effort.</p><p>I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end</p><p>of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, flexing my stiff fingers.</p><p>Edward chuckled beside me.</p><p>"Well, that was interesting," he murmured. His voice was dark and his eyes were</p><p>cautious.</p><p>"Umm," was all I was able to respond.</p><p>"Shall we?" he asked, rising fluidly.</p><p>I almost groaned. Time for Gym. I stood with care, worried my balance might</p><p>have been affected by the strange new intensity between us.</p><p>He walked me to my next class in silence and paused at the door; I turned to say</p><p>goodbye. His face startled me — his expression was torn, almost pained, and so</p><p>fiercely beautiful that the ache to touch him flared as strong as before. My</p><p>goodbye stuck in my throat.</p><p>He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed</p><p>the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but</p><p>the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly</p><p>warm — like I'd been burned,</p><p>but didn't feel the pain of it yet.</p><p>He turned without a word and strode quickly away from me.</p><p>I walked into the gym, lightheaded and wobbly. I drifted to the locker room,</p><p>changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that there were other people</p><p>surrounding me. Reality didn't fully set in until I was handed a racket. It wasn't</p><p>heavy, yet it felt very unsafe in my hand. I could see a few of the other kids in</p><p>class eyeing me furtively. Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.</p><p>Mercifully, some vestiges of Mike's chivalry still survived; he came to stand</p><p>beside me.</p><p>"Do you want to be a team?"</p><p>"Thanks, Mike — you don't have to do this, you know." I grimaced</p><p>apologetically.</p><p>"Don't worry, I'll keep out of your way." He grinned. Sometimes it was so easy</p><p>to like Mike.</p><p>It didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my</p><p>racket and clip Mike's shoulder on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in</p><p>the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind my back. Despite</p><p>being handicapped by me, Mike was pretty good; he won three games out of four</p><p>singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high five when the coach finally blew</p><p>the whistle ending class.</p><p>"So," he said as we walked off the court.</p><p>"So what?"</p><p>"You and Cullen, huh?" he asked, his tone rebellious. My previous feeling of</p><p>affection disappeared.</p><p>"That's none of your business, Mike," I warned, internally cursing Jessica</p><p>straight to the fiery pits of Hades.</p><p>"I don't like it," he muttered anyway.</p><p>"You don't have to," I snapped.</p><p>"He looks at you like… like you're something to eat," he continued, ignoring me.</p><p>I choked back the hysteria that threatened to explode, but a small giggle</p><p>managed to get out despite my efforts. He glowered at me. I waved and fled to</p><p>the locker room.</p><p>I dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against</p><p>the walls of my stomach, my argument with Mike already a distant memory. I</p><p>was wondering if Edward would be waiting, or if I should meet him at his car.</p><p>What if his family was there? I felt a wave of real terror. Did they know that I</p><p>knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?</p><p>By the time I walked out of the gym, I had just about decided to walk straight</p><p>home without even looking toward the parking lot. But my worries were</p><p>unnecessary. Edward was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the gym,</p><p>his breathtaking face untroubled now. As I walked to his side, I felt a peculiar</p><p>sense of release.</p><p>"Hi," I breathed, smiling hugely.</p><p>"Hello." His answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?"</p><p>My face fell a tiny bit. "Fine," I lied.</p><p>"Really?" He was unconvinced. His eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking</p><p>over my shoulder and narrowing. I glanced behind me to see Mike's back as he</p><p>walked away.</p><p>"What?" I demanded.</p><p>His eyes slid back to mine, still tight. "Newton's getting on my nerves."</p><p>"You weren't listening again?" I was horror-struck. All traces of my sudden good</p><p>humor vanished.</p><p>"How's your head?" he asked innocently.</p><p>"You're unbelievable!" I turned, stomping away in the general direction of the</p><p>parking lot, though I hadn't ruled out walking at this point.</p><p>He kept up with me easily.</p><p>"You were the one who mentioned how I'd never seen you in Gym — it made</p><p>me curious." He didn't sound repentant, so I ignored him.</p><p>We walked in silence — a furious, embarrassed silence on my part — to his car.</p><p>But I had to stop a few steps away — a crowd of people, all boys, were</p><p>surrounding it.</p><p>Then I realized they weren't surrounding the Volvo, they were actually circled</p><p>around Rosalie's red convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes. None of them</p><p>even looked up as Edward slid between them to open his door. I climbed quickly</p><p>in the passenger side, also unnoticed.</p><p>"Ostentatious," he muttered.</p><p>"What kind of car is that?" I asked.</p><p>"An M3."</p><p>"I don't speak Car and Driver."</p><p>"It's a BMW." He rolled his eyes, not looking at me, trying to back out without</p><p>running over the car enthusiasts.</p><p>I nodded — I'd heard of that one.</p><p>"Are you still angry?" he asked as he carefully maneuvered his way out.</p><p>"Definitely."</p><p>He sighed. "Will you forgive me if I apologize?"</p><p>"Maybe… if you mean it. And if you promise not to do it again," I insisted.</p><p>His eyes were suddenly shrewd. "How about if I mean it, and I agree to let you</p><p>drive Saturday?" he countered my conditions.</p><p>I considered, and decided it was probably the best offer I would get. "Deal," I</p><p>agreed.</p><p>"Then I'm very sorry I upset you." His eyes burned with sincerity for a protracted</p><p>moment — playing havoc with the rhythm of my heart — and then turned</p><p>playful. "And I'll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning."</p><p>"Um, it doesn't help with the Charlie situation if an unexplained Volvo is left in</p><p>the driveway."</p><p>His smile was condescending now. "I wasn't intending to bring a car."</p><p>"How —"</p><p>He cut me off. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car."</p><p>I let it go. I had a more pressing question.</p><p>"Is it later yet?" I asked significantly.</p><p>He frowned. "I supposed it is later."</p><p>I kept my expression polite as I waited.</p><p>He stopped the car. I looked up, surprised — of course we were already at</p><p>Charlie's house, parked behind the truck. It was easier to ride with him if I only</p><p>looked when it was over. When I looked back at him, he was staring at me,</p><p>measuring with his eyes.</p><p>"And you still want to know why you can't see me hunt?" He seemed solemn,</p><p>but I thought I saw a trace of humor deep in his eyes.</p><p>"Well," I clarified, "I was mostly wondering about your reaction."</p><p>"Did I frighten you?" Yes, there was definitely humor there.</p><p>"No," I lied. He didn't buy it.</p><p>"I apologize for scaring you," he persisted with a slight smile, but then all</p><p>evidence of teasing disappeared. "It was just the very thought of you being</p><p>there… while we hunted." His jaw tightened.</p><p>"That would be bad?"</p><p>He spoke from between clenched teeth. "Extremely."</p><p>"Because… ?"</p><p>He took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling</p><p>clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.</p><p>"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our</p><p>senses… govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were</p><p>anywhere near me when I lost control that way…" He shook his head, still</p><p>gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.</p><p>I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes</p><p>to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing away.</p><p>But our eyes held, and the silence deepened — and changed. Flickers of the</p><p>electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as he gazed</p><p>unrelentingly into my eyes. It wasn't until my head started to swim that I realized</p><p>I wasn't breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, he</p><p>closed his eyes.</p><p>"Bella, I think you should go inside now." His low voice was rough, his eyes on</p><p>the clouds again.</p><p>I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear my</p><p>head. Afraid I might stumble in my woozy state, I stepped carefully out of the</p><p>car and shut the door behind me without looking back. The whir of the automatic</p><p>window unrolling made me turn.</p><p>"Oh, Bella?" he called after me, his voice more even. He leaned toward the open</p><p>window with a faint smile on his lips.</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"Tomorrow it's my turn."</p><p>"Your turn to what?"</p><p>He smiled wider, flashing his gleaming teeth. "Ask the questions."</p><p>And then he was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around</p><p>the corner before I could even collect my thoughts. I smiled as I walked to the</p><p>house. It was clear he was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else.</p><p>That night Edward starred in my dreams, as usual. However, the climate of my</p><p>unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had</p><p>charged the afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly, waking often. It was</p><p>only in the</p><p>early hours of the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted,</p><p>dreamless sleep.</p><p>When I woke I was still tired, but edgy as well. I pulled on my brown turtleneck</p><p>and the inescapable jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of spaghetti straps and shorts.</p><p>Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I expected. Charlie fried eggs for himself; I</p><p>had my bowl of cereal. I wondered if he had forgotten about this Saturday. He</p><p>answered my unspoken question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.</p><p>"About this Saturday…" he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on the</p><p>faucet.</p><p>I cringed. "Yes, Dad?"</p><p>"Are you still set on going to Seattle?" he asked.</p><p>"That was the plan." I grimaced, wishing he hadn't brought it up so I wouldn't</p><p>have to compose careful half-truths.</p><p>He squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush.</p><p>"And you're sure you can't make it back in time for the dance?"</p><p>"I'm not going to the dance, Dad." I glared.</p><p>"Didn't anyone ask you?" he asked, trying to hide his concern by focusing on</p><p>rinsing the plate.</p><p>I sidestepped the minefield. "It's a girl's choice."</p><p>"Oh." He frowned as he dried his plate.</p><p>I sympathized with him. It must be a hard thing, to be a father; living in fear that</p><p>your daughter would meet a boy she liked, but also having to worry if she didn't.</p><p>How ghastly it would be, I thought, shuddering, if Charlie had even the slightest</p><p>inkling of exactly what I did like.</p><p>Charlie left then, with a goodbye wave, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and</p><p>gather my books. When I heard the cruiser pull away, I could only wait a few</p><p>seconds before I had to peek out of my window. The silver car was already there,</p><p>waiting in Charlie's spot on the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and out the</p><p>front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. I never</p><p>wanted it to end.</p><p>He waited in the car, not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me</p><p>without bothering to lock the dead-bolt. I walked to the car, pausing shyly before</p><p>opening the door and stepping in. He was smiling, relaxed — and, as usual,</p><p>perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree.</p><p>"Good morning." His voice was silky. "How are you today?" His eyes roamed</p><p>over my face, as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.</p><p>"Good, thank you." I was always good — much more than good — when I was</p><p>near him.</p><p>His gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "You look tired."</p><p>"I couldn't sleep," I confessed, automatically swinging my hair around my</p><p>shoulder to provide some measure of cover.</p><p>"Neither could I," he teased as he started the engine. I was becoming used to the</p><p>quiet purr. I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me, whenever I got to</p><p>drive it again.</p><p>I laughed. "I guess that's right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more than you</p><p>did."</p><p>"I'd wager you did."</p><p>"So what did you do last night?" I asked.</p><p>He chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."</p><p>"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" My forehead creased. I couldn't</p><p>imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting to him.</p><p>"What's your favorite color?" he asked, his face grave.</p><p>I rolled my eyes. "It changes from day to day."</p><p>"What's your favorite color today?" He was still solemn.</p><p>"Probably brown." I tended to dress according to my mood.</p><p>He snorted, dropping his serious expression. "Brown?" he asked skeptically.</p><p>"Sure. Brown is warm. I miss brown. Everything that's supposed to be brown —</p><p>tree trunks, rocks, dirt — is all covered up with squashy green stuff here," I</p><p>complained.</p><p>He seemed fascinated by my little rant. He considered for a moment, staring into</p><p>my eyes.</p><p>"You're right," he decided, serious again. "Brown is warm." He reached over,</p><p>swiftly, but somehow still hesitantly, to sweep my hair back behind my shoulder.</p><p>We were at the school by now. He turned back to me as he pulled into a parking</p><p>space.</p><p>"What music is in your CD player right now?" he asked, his face as somber as if</p><p>he'd asked for a murder confession.</p><p>I realized I'd never removed the CD Phil had given me. When I said the name of</p><p>the band, he smiled crookedly, a peculiar expression in his eyes. He flipped open</p><p>a compartment under his car's CD player, pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that</p><p>were jammed into the small space, and handed it to me,</p><p>"Debussy to this?" He raised an eyebrow.</p><p>It was the same CD. I examined the familiar cover art, keeping my eyes down.</p><p>It continued like that for the rest of the day. While he walked me to English,</p><p>when he met me after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he questioned me</p><p>relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my existence. Movies I'd liked and</p><p>hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and books —</p><p>endlessly books.</p><p>I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much. More often than not, I felt</p><p>self-conscious, certain I must be boring him. But the absolute absorption of his</p><p>face, and his never-ending stream of questions, compelled me to continue.</p><p>Mostly his questions were easy, only a very few triggering my easy blushes. But</p><p>when I did flush, it brought on a whole new round of questions.</p><p>Such as the time he asked my favorite gemstone, and I blurted out topaz before</p><p>thinking. He'd been flinging questions at me with such speed that I felt like I was</p><p>taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer with the first word that</p><p>comes to mind. I was sure he would have continued down whatever mental list</p><p>he was following, except for the blush. My face reddened because, until very</p><p>recently, my favorite gemstone was garnet. It was impossible, while staring back</p><p>into his topaz eyes, not to remember the reason for the switch. And, naturally, he</p><p>wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed.</p><p>"Tell me," he finally commanded after persuasion failed — failed only because I</p><p>kept my eyes safely away from his face.</p><p>"It's the color of your eyes today," I sighed, surrendering, staring down at my</p><p>hands as I fiddled with a piece of my hair. "I suppose if you asked me in two</p><p>weeks I'd say onyx." I'd given more information than necessary in my unwilling</p><p>honesty, and I worried it would provoke the strange anger that flared whenever I</p><p>slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed I was.</p><p>But his pause was very short.</p><p>"What kinds of flowers do you prefer?" he fired off.</p><p>I sighed in relief, and continued with the psychoanalysis.</p><p>Biology was a complication again. Edward had continued with his quizzing up</p><p>until Mr. Banner entered the room, dragging the audiovisual frame again. As the</p><p>teacher approached the light switch, I noticed Edward slide his chair slightly</p><p>farther away from mine. It didn't help. As soon as the room was dark, there was</p><p>the same electric spark, the same restless craving to stretch my hand across the</p><p>short space and touch his cold skin, as yesterday.</p><p>I leaned forward on the table, resting my chin on my folded arms, my hidden</p><p>fingers gripping the table's edge as I fought to ignore the irrational longing that</p><p>unsettled me. I didn't look at him, afraid that if he was looking at me, it would</p><p>only make self-control that much harder. I sincerely tried to watch the movie, but</p><p>at the end of the hour I had no idea what I'd just seen. I sighed in relief again</p><p>when Mr. Banner turned the lights on, finally glancing at Edward; he was</p><p>looking at me, his eyes ambivalent.</p><p>He rose in silence and then stood still, waiting for me. We walked toward the</p><p>gym in silence, like yesterday. And, also like yesterday, he touched my face</p><p>wordlessly — this time with the back of his cool hand, stroking once from my</p><p>temple to my jaw — before he turned and walked away.</p><p>Gym passed quickly as I watched Mike's one-man badminton show. He didn't</p><p>speak to me today, either in response to my vacant expression or because he was</p><p>still angry about our squabble yesterday. Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, I</p><p>felt bad about that. But I couldn't concentrate on him.</p><p>I hurried to change</p><p>in college, or even teachers here rather than students.</p><p>The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure,</p><p>the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind</p><p>that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the</p><p>same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The</p><p>short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a</p><p>deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction.</p><p>And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the</p><p>palest of all the students living in this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino.</p><p>They all had very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark</p><p>shadows under those eyes — purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all</p><p>suffering from a sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken nose.</p><p>Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular.</p><p>But all this is not why I couldn't look away.</p><p>I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly,</p><p>inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps</p><p>on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old master as</p><p>the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe</p><p>the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy.</p><p>They were all looking away — away from each other, away from the other</p><p>students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As I watched,</p><p>the small girl rose with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten apple — and walked</p><p>away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed</p><p>at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back</p><p>door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the</p><p>others, who sat unchanging.</p><p>"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd</p><p>forgotten.</p><p>As she looked up to see who I meant — though already knowing, probably, from</p><p>my tone — suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the</p><p>youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and</p><p>then his dark eyes flickered to mine.</p><p>He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of</p><p>embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face</p><p>held nothing of interest — it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked</p><p>up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.</p><p>My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did.</p><p>"That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who</p><p>left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She</p><p>said this under her breath.</p><p>I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now,</p><p>picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very</p><p>quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and</p><p>yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them.</p><p>Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But</p><p>maybe that was in vogue here — small town names? I finally remembered that</p><p>my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were two girls</p><p>named Jessica in my History class back home.</p><p>"They are… very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement.</p><p>"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. "They're all together though —</p><p>Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together." Her</p><p>voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically.</p><p>But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause</p><p>gossip.</p><p>"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related…"</p><p>"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties.</p><p>They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins — the blondes —</p><p>and they're foster children."</p><p>"They look a little old for foster children."</p><p>"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs.</p><p>Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."</p><p>"That's really kind of nice — for them to take care of all those kids like that,</p><p>when they're so young and everything."</p><p>"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't</p><p>like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing</p><p>at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. "I think that</p><p>Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their</p><p>kindness.</p><p>Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table</p><p>where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.</p><p>"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them</p><p>on one of my summers here.</p><p>"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival</p><p>like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."</p><p>I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they</p><p>were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here,</p><p>and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.</p><p>As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my</p><p>gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly</p><p>away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.</p><p>"Which one is the boy with the reddish brown hair?" I asked. I peeked at him</p><p>from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like</p><p>the other students had today — he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked</p><p>down again.</p><p>"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't</p><p>date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She</p><p>sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd turned her down.</p><p>I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned</p><p>away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.</p><p>After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were</p><p>noticeably graceful — even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The</p><p>one named Edward didn't look at me again.</p><p>I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been</p><p>sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my</p><p>new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela,</p><p>had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence.</p><p>She was shy, too.</p><p>When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table</p><p>exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the</p><p>tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen</p><p>by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat.</p><p>As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip</p><p>signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went</p><p>rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest</p><p>expression on his face — it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked,</p><p>going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself</p><p>on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled.</p><p>I'd noticed that his eyes were black — coal black.</p><p>Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about</p><p>introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no</p><p>choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my</p><p>eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd</p><p>given me.</p><p>I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his</p><p>posture change</p><p>afterward, ill at ease, knowing the faster I moved, the sooner</p><p>I would be with Edward. The pressure made me more clumsy than usual, but</p><p>eventually I made it out the door, feeling the same release when I saw him</p><p>standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across my face. He smiled</p><p>in reaction before launching into more cross-examination.</p><p>His questions were different now, though, not as easily answered. He wanted to</p><p>know what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything he wasn't</p><p>familiar with. We sat in front of Charlie's house for hours, as the sky darkened</p><p>and rain plummeted around us in a sudden deluge.</p><p>I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote — bitter, slightly</p><p>resinous, but still pleasant — the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the</p><p>feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue</p><p>from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with</p><p>purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to</p><p>me — to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that</p><p>often looked half dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of</p><p>the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way</p><p>they held on to the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to</p><p>him.</p><p>His quiet, probing questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of</p><p>the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation. Finally, when I</p><p>had finished detailing my cluttered room at home, he paused instead of</p><p>responding with another question.</p><p>"Are you finished?" I asked in relief.</p><p>"Not even close — but your father will be home soon."</p><p>"Charlie!" I suddenly recalled his existence, and sighed. I looked out at the rain-</p><p>darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" I wondered out loud as</p><p>I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time — Charlie would be driving</p><p>home now.</p><p>"It's twilight," Edward murmured, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it</p><p>was with clouds. His voice was thoughtful, as if his mind were somewhere far</p><p>away. I stared at him as he gazed unseeingly out the windshield.</p><p>I was still staring when his eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.</p><p>"It's the safest time of day for us," he said, answering the unspoken question in</p><p>my eyes. "The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another</p><p>day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?" He</p><p>smiled wistfully.</p><p>"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." I frowned. "Not that</p><p>you see them here much."</p><p>He laughed, and the mood abruptly lightened.</p><p>"Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that you'll</p><p>be with me Saturday…" He raised one eyebrow.</p><p>"Thanks, but no thanks." I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from sitting</p><p>still so long. "So is it my turn tomorrow, then?"</p><p>"Certainly not!" His face was teasingly outraged. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't</p><p>I?"</p><p>"What more is there?"</p><p>"You'll find out tomorrow." He reached across to open my door for me, and his</p><p>sudden proximity sent my heart into frenzied palpitations.</p><p>But his hand froze on the handle.</p><p>"Not good," he muttered.</p><p>"What is it?" I was surprised to see that his jaw was clenched, his eyes disturbed.</p><p>He glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," he said glumly.</p><p>He flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed,</p><p>swiftly away from me.</p><p>The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a dark car pulled</p><p>up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us.</p><p>"Charlie's around the corner," he warned, staring through the downpour at the</p><p>other vehicle.</p><p>I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The rain was louder as</p><p>it glanced off my jacket.</p><p>I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too</p><p>dark. I could see Edward illuminated in the glare of the new car's headlights; he</p><p>was still staring ahead, his gaze locked on something or someone I couldn't see.</p><p>His expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.</p><p>Then he revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The</p><p>Volvo was out of sight in seconds.</p><p>"Hey, Bella," called a familiar, husky voice from the driver's side of the little</p><p>black car.</p><p>"Jacob?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Charlie's cruiser swung</p><p>around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.</p><p>Jacob was already climbing out, his wide grin visible even through the darkness.</p><p>In the passenger seat was a much older man, a heavyset man with a memorable</p><p>face — a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with</p><p>creases running through the russet skin like an old leather jacket. And the</p><p>surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too</p><p>young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. Jacob's father, Billy</p><p>Black. I knew him immediately, though in the more than five years since I'd seen</p><p>him last I'd managed to forget his name when Charlie had spoken of him my first</p><p>day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at</p><p>him. His eyes were wide, as if in shock or fear, his nostrils flared. My smile</p><p>faded.</p><p>Another complication, Edward had said.</p><p>Billy still stared at me with intense, anxious eyes. I groaned internally. Had Billy</p><p>recognized Edward so easily? Could he really believe the impossible legends his</p><p>son had scoffed at?</p><p>The answer was clear in Billy's eyes. Yes. Yes, he could.</p><p>12. BALANCING</p><p>"Billy!" Charlie called as soon as he got out of the car.</p><p>I turned toward the house, beckoning to Jacob as I ducked under the porch. I</p><p>heard Charlie greeting them loudly behind me.</p><p>"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Jake," he said</p><p>disapprovingly.</p><p>"We get permits early on the rez," Jacob said while I unlocked the door and</p><p>flicked on the porch light.</p><p>"Sure you do," Charlie laughed.</p><p>"I have to get around somehow." I recognized Billy's resonant voice easily,</p><p>despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, a child.</p><p>I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on lights before I</p><p>hung up my jacket. Then I stood in the door, watching anxiously as Charlie and</p><p>Jacob helped Billy out of the car and into his wheelchair.</p><p>I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the rain.</p><p>"This is a surprise," Charlie was saying.</p><p>"It's been too long," Billy answered. "I hope it's not a bad time." His dark eyes</p><p>flashed up to me again, their expression unreadable.</p><p>"No, it's great. I hope you can stay for the game."</p><p>Jacob grinned. "I think that's the plan — our TV broke last week."</p><p>Billy made a face at his son. "And, of course, Jacob was anxious to see Bella</p><p>again," he added. Jacob scowled and ducked his head while I fought back a surge</p><p>of remorse. Maybe I'd been too convincing on the beach.</p><p>"Are you hungry?" I asked, turning toward the kitchen. I was eager to escape</p><p>Billy's searching gaze.</p><p>"Naw, we ate just before we came," Jacob answered.</p><p>"How about you, Charlie?" I called over my shoulder as I fled around the corner.</p><p>"Sure," he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the</p><p>TV. I could hear Billy's chair follow.</p><p>The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up a</p><p>tomato when I sensed someone behind me.</p><p>"So, how are things?" Jacob asked.</p><p>"Pretty good." I smiled. His enthusiasm was hard to resist. "How about you? Did</p><p>you finish your car?"</p><p>"No." He frowned. "I still need parts. We borrowed that one." He pointed with</p><p>his thumb in the direction of the front yard.</p><p>"Sorry. I haven't seen any… what was it you were looking for?"</p><p>"Master cylinder." He grinned. "Is something wrong with the truck?" he added</p><p>suddenly.</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Oh. I just wondered because you weren't</p><p>driving it."</p><p>I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check the bottom</p><p>side. "I got a ride with a friend."</p><p>"Nice ride." Jacob's voice was admiring. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I</p><p>thought I knew most of the kids around here."</p><p>I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.</p><p>"My dad seemed to know him from somewhere."</p><p>"Jacob, could you hand me some plates? They're in the cupboard over the sink."</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>He got the plates in silence. I hoped he would let it drop now.</p><p>"So who was it?" he asked, setting two plates on the counter next to me.</p><p>I sighed in defeat. "Edward Cullen."</p><p>To my surprise, he laughed. I glanced up at him. He looked a little embarrassed.</p><p>"Guess that explains it, then," he said. "I wondered why my dad was acting so</p><p>strange."</p><p>"That's right." I faked an innocent expression. "He doesn't like the Cullens."</p><p>"Superstitious old man," Jacob muttered under his breath.</p><p>"You don't think he'd say anything to Charlie?" I couldn't help asking, the words</p><p>coming out in a low rush.</p><p>Jacob stared at me for a moment, and I couldn't read the expression in his dark</p><p>eyes. "I doubt it," he finally answered. "I think Charlie chewed him out pretty</p><p>good last time. They haven't spoken much since — tonight is sort of a reunion, I</p><p>think. I don't think he'd bring it up again."</p><p>"Oh," I said, trying to sound indifferent.</p><p>I stayed in the front room after I carried the food out to Charlie, pretending to</p><p>watch the game while Jacob chattered at me. I was really listening to the men's</p><p>conversation, watching for any sign that Billy was about to rat me out, trying to</p><p>think of ways to stop him if he began.</p><p>It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I was</p><p>afraid to leave Billy alone with Charlie. Finally, the game ended.</p><p>"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" Jacob asked as he</p><p>pushed his father over the lip of the threshold.</p><p>"I'm not sure," I hedged.</p><p>"That was fun, Charlie," Billy said.</p><p>"Come up for the next game," Charlie encouraged.</p><p>"Sure, sure," Billy said. "We'll be here. Have a good night." His eyes shifted to</p><p>mine, and his smile disappeared. "You take care, Bella," he added seriously.</p><p>"Thanks," I muttered, looking away.</p><p>I headed for the stairs while Charlie waved from the doorway.</p><p>"Wait, Bella," he said.</p><p>I cringed. Had Billy gotten something in before I'd joined them in the living</p><p>room?</p><p>But Charlie was relaxed, still grinning from the unexpected visit.</p><p>"I didn't get a chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?"</p><p>"Good." I hesitated with one foot on the first stair, searching for details I could</p><p>safely share. "My badminton team won all four games."</p><p>"Wow, I didn't know you could play badminton."</p><p>"Well, actually I can't, but my partner is really good," I admitted.</p><p>"Who is it?" he asked with token interest.</p><p>"Um… Mike Newton," I told him reluctantly.</p><p>"Oh yeah — you said you were friends with the Newton kid." He perked up.</p><p>"Nice family." He mused for a minute. "Why didn't you ask him to the dance this</p><p>weekend?"</p><p>"Dad!" I groaned. "He's kind of dating my friend Jessica. Besides, you know I</p><p>can't dance."</p><p>"Oh yeah," he muttered. Then he smiled at me apologetically. "So I guess it's</p><p>good you'll be gone Saturday… I've made plans to go fishing with the guys from</p><p>the station. The weather's supposed to be real warm. But if you wanted to put</p><p>your trip off till someone could go with you, I'd stay home. I know I leave you</p><p>here alone too much."</p><p>"Dad, you're doing a great job." I smiled, hoping my relief didn't show. "I've</p><p>never minded being alone — I'm too much like you." I winked at him, and he</p><p>smiled his crinkly-eyed smile.</p><p>I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray</p><p>morning, my mood was blissful. The tense evening with Billy and Jacob seemed</p><p>harmless enough now; I decided to forget it completely. I caught myself</p><p>whistling while I was pulling the front part of my hair back into a barrette, and</p><p>later again as I skipped down the stairs. Charlie noticed.</p><p>"You're cheerful this morning," he commented over breakfast.</p><p>I shrugged. "It's Friday."</p><p>I hurried so I would be ready to go the second Charlie left. I had my bag ready,</p><p>shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door as soon as I was</p><p>sure Charlie would be out of sight, Edward was faster. He was waiting in his</p><p>shiny car, windows down, engine off.</p><p>I didn't hesitate this time, climbing in the passenger side quickly, the sooner to</p><p>see his face. He grinned his crooked smile at me, stopping my breath and my</p><p>heart. I couldn't imagine how an angel could be any more glorious. There was</p><p>nothing about him that could be improved upon.</p><p>"How did you sleep?" he asked. I wondered if he had any idea how appealing his</p><p>voice was.</p><p>"Fine. How was your night?"</p><p>"Pleasant." His smile was amused; I felt like I was missing an inside joke.</p><p>"Can I ask what you did?" I asked.</p><p>"No." He grinned. "Today is still mine."</p><p>He wanted to know about people today: more about Renée, her hobbies, what</p><p>we'd done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I'd known,</p><p>my few school friends — embarrassing me when he asked about boys I'd dated. I</p><p>was relieved that I'd never really dated anyone, so that particular conversation</p><p>couldn't last long. He seemed as surprised as Jessica and Angela by my lack of</p><p>romantic history.</p><p>"So you never met anyone you wanted?" he asked in a serious tone that made me</p><p>wonder what he was thinking about.</p><p>I was grudgingly honest. "Not in Phoenix."</p><p>His lips pressed together into a hard line.</p><p>We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur that was</p><p>rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of his brief pause to take a bite of my</p><p>bagel.</p><p>"I should have let you drive yourself today," he announced, apropos of nothing,</p><p>while I chewed.</p><p>"Why?" I demanded.</p><p>"I'm leaving with Alice after lunch."</p><p>"Oh." I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. "That's okay, it's not that far of a</p><p>walk."</p><p>He frowned at me impatiently. "I'm not going to make you walk home. We'll go</p><p>get your truck and leave it here for you."</p><p>"I don't have my key with me," I sighed. "I really don't mind walking." What I</p><p>minded was losing my time with him.</p><p>He shook his head. "Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition</p><p>— unless you're afraid someone might steal it." He laughed at the thought.</p><p>"All right," I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty sure my key was in the pocket</p><p>of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room.</p><p>Even if he broke into my house, or whatever he was planning, he'd never find it.</p><p>He seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. He smirked, overconfident.</p><p>"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.</p><p>"Hunting," he answered grimly. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm</p><p>going to take whatever precautions I can." His face grew morose… and pleading.</p><p>"You can always cancel, you know."</p><p>I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to be</p><p>convinced to fear him, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn't matter,</p><p>I repeated in my head.</p><p>"No," I whispered, glancing back at his face. "I can't."</p><p>"Perhaps you're right," he murmured bleakly. His eyes seemed to darken in color</p><p>as I watched.</p><p>I changed the subject. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, already</p><p>depressed by the thought of him leaving now.</p><p>"That depends… it's a Saturday, don't you want to sleep in?" he offered.</p><p>"No," I answered too fast. He restrained a smile.</p><p>"The same time as usual, then," he decided. "Will Charlie be there?"</p><p>"No, he's fishing tomorrow." I beamed at the memory of how conveniently</p><p>things had worked out.</p><p>His voice turned sharp. "And if you don't come home, what will he think?"</p><p>"I have no idea," I answered coolly. "He knows I've been meaning to do the</p><p>laundry. Maybe he'll think I fell in the washer."</p><p>He scowled at me and</p><p>I scowled back. His anger was much more impressive</p><p>than mine.</p><p>"What are you hunting tonight?" I asked when I was sure I had lost the</p><p>glowering contest.</p><p>"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far." He seemed bemused by my</p><p>casual reference to his secret realities.</p><p>"Why are you going with Alice?" I wondered.</p><p>"Alice is the most… supportive." He frowned as he spoke.</p><p>"And the others?" I asked timidly. "What are they?"</p><p>His brow puckered for a brief moment. "Incredulous, for the most part."</p><p>I peeked quickly behind me at his family. They sat staring off in different</p><p>directions, exactly the same as the first time I'd seen them. Only now they were</p><p>four; their beautiful, bronze-haired brother sat across from me, his golden eyes</p><p>troubled.</p><p>"They don't like me," I guessed.</p><p>"That's not it," he disagreed, but his eyes were too innocent. "They don't</p><p>understand why I can't leave you alone."</p><p>I grimaced. "Neither do I, for that matter."</p><p>Edward shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling before he met</p><p>my gaze again. "I told you — you don't see yourself clearly at all. You're not like</p><p>anyone I've ever known. You fascinate me."</p><p>I glared at him, sure he was teasing now.</p><p>He smiled as he deciphered my expression. "Having the advantages I do," he</p><p>murmured, touching his forehead discreetly, "I have a better than average grasp</p><p>of human nature. People are predictable. But you… you never do what I expect.</p><p>You always take me by surprise."</p><p>I looked away, my eyes wandering back to his family, embarrassed and</p><p>dissatisfied. His words made me feel like a science experiment. I wanted to</p><p>laugh at myself for expecting anything else.</p><p>"That part is easy enough to explain," he continued. I felt his eyes on my face but</p><p>I couldn't look at him yet, afraid he might read the chagrin in my eyes. "But</p><p>there's more… and it's not so easy to put into words —"</p><p>I was still staring at the Cullens while he spoke. Suddenly Rosalie, his blond and</p><p>breathtaking sister, turned to look at me. No, not to look — to glare, with dark,</p><p>cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but her gaze held me until Edward broke off</p><p>mid-sentence and made an angry noise under his breath. It was almost a hiss.</p><p>Rosalie turned her head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Edward</p><p>— and I knew he could see the confusion and fear that widened my eyes.</p><p>His face was tight as he explained. "I'm sorry about that. She's just worried. You</p><p>see… it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with</p><p>you so publicly…" He looked down.</p><p>"If?"</p><p>"If this ends… badly." He dropped his head into his hands, as he had that night</p><p>in Port Angeles. His anguish was plain; I yearned to comfort him, but I was at a</p><p>loss to know how. My hand reached toward him involuntarily; quickly, though, I</p><p>dropped it to the table, fearing that my touch would only make things worse. I</p><p>realized slowly that his words should frighten me. I waited for that fear to come,</p><p>but all I could seem to feel was an ache for his pain.</p><p>And frustration — frustration that Rosalie had interrupted whatever he was about</p><p>to say. I didn't know how to bring it up again. He still had his head in his hands.</p><p>I tried to speak in a normal voice. "And you have to leave now?"</p><p>"Yes." He raised his face; it was serious for a moment, and then his mood shifted</p><p>and he smiled. "It's probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that</p><p>wretched movie left to endure in Biology — I don't think I could take any more."</p><p>I started. Alice — her short, inky hair in a halo of spiky disarray around her</p><p>exquisite, elfin face — was suddenly standing behind his shoulder. Her slight</p><p>frame was willowy, graceful even in absolute stillness.</p><p>He greeted her without looking away from me. "Alice."</p><p>"Edward," she answered, her high soprano voice almost as attractive as his.</p><p>"Alice, Bella — Bella, Alice," he introduced us, gesturing casually with his</p><p>hand, a wry smile on his face.</p><p>"Hello, Bella." Her brilliant obsidian eyes were unreadable, but her smile was</p><p>friendly. "It's nice to finally meet you."</p><p>Edward flashed a dark look at her.</p><p>"Hi, Alice," I murmured shyly.</p><p>"Are you ready?" she asked him.</p><p>His voice was aloof. "Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."</p><p>She left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I felt a</p><p>sharp pang of jealousy.</p><p>"Should I say 'have fun,' or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked, turning back to</p><p>him.</p><p>"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything." He grinned.</p><p>"Have fun, then." I worked to sound wholehearted. Of course I didn't fool him.</p><p>"I'll try." He still grinned. "And you try to be safe, please."</p><p>"Safe in Forks — what a challenge."</p><p>"For you it is a challenge." His jaw hardened. "Promise."</p><p>"I promise to try to be safe," I recited. "I'll do the laundry tonight — that ought</p><p>to be fraught with peril."</p><p>"Don't fall in," he mocked.</p><p>"I'll do my best."</p><p>He stood then, and I rose, too.</p><p>"I'll see you tomorrow," I sighed.</p><p>"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" he mused.</p><p>I nodded glumly.</p><p>"I'll be there in the morning," he promised, smiling his crooked smile. He</p><p>reached across the table to touch my face, lightly brushing along my cheekbone</p><p>again. Then he turned and walked away. I stared after him until he was gone.</p><p>I was sorely tempted to ditch the rest of the day, at the very least Gym, but a</p><p>warning instinct stopped me. I knew that if I disappeared now, Mike and others</p><p>would assume I was with Edward. And Edward was worried about the time we'd</p><p>spent together publicly… if things went wrong. I refused to dwell on the last</p><p>thought, concentrating instead on making things safer for him.</p><p>I intuitively knew — and sensed he did, too — that tomorrow would be pivotal.</p><p>Our relationship couldn't continue to balance, as it did, on the point of a knife.</p><p>We would fall off one edge or the other, depending entirely upon his decision, or</p><p>his instincts. My decision was made, made before I'd ever consciously chosen,</p><p>and I was committed to seeing it through. Because there was nothing more</p><p>terrifying to me, more excruciating, than the thought of turning away from him.</p><p>It was an impossibility.</p><p>I went to class, feeling dutiful. I couldn't honestly say what happened in Biology;</p><p>my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow. In Gym, Mike was</p><p>speaking to me again; he wished me a good time in Seattle. I carefully explained</p><p>that I'd canceled my trip, worried about my truck.</p><p>"Are you going to the dance with Cullen?" he asked, suddenly sulky.</p><p>"No, I'm not going to the dance at all."</p><p>"What are you doing, then?" he asked, too interested.</p><p>My natural urge was to tell him to butt out. Instead, I lied brightly.</p><p>"Laundry, and then I have to study for the Trig test or I'm going to fail."</p><p>"Is Cullen helping you study?"</p><p>"Edward," I emphasized, "is not going to help me study. He's gone away</p><p>somewhere for the weekend." The lies came more naturally than usual, I noted</p><p>with surprise.</p><p>"Oh." He perked up. "You know, you could come to the dance with our group</p><p>anyway — that would be cool. We'd all dance with you," he promised.</p><p>The mental image of Jessica's face made my tone sharper than necessary.</p><p>"I'm not going to the dance, Mike, okay?"</p><p>"Fine." He sulked again. "I was just offering."</p><p>When the school day had finally ended, I walked to the parking lot without</p><p>enthusiasm. I did not especially want to walk home, but I couldn't see how he</p><p>would have retrieved my truck. Then again, I was starting to believe that nothing</p><p>was impossible for him. The latter instinct proved correct — my truck sat in the</p><p>same space he'd parked his Volvo in this morning. I shook my head, incredulous,</p><p>as I opened the unlocked door and saw the key in the ignition.</p><p>There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed the door</p><p>before I unfolded it. Two words were written in his elegant script.</p><p>Be safe.</p><p>The sound of the truck roaring to life frightened me. I laughed at myself.</p><p>When I got home, the handle of</p><p>the door was locked, the dead bolt unlocked, just</p><p>as I'd left it this morning. Inside, I went straight to the laundry room. It looked</p><p>just the same as I'd left it, too. I dug for my jeans and, after finding them,</p><p>checked the pockets. Empty. Maybe I'd hung my key up after all, I thought,</p><p>shaking my head.</p><p>Following the same instinct that had prompted me to lie to Mike, I called Jessica</p><p>on the pretense of wishing her luck at the dance. When she offered the same</p><p>wish for my day with Edward, I told her about the cancellation. She was more</p><p>disappointed than really necessary for a third-party observer to be. I said</p><p>goodbye quickly after that.</p><p>Charlie was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I guessed,</p><p>or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying the lasagna —</p><p>it was hard to tell with Charlie.</p><p>"You know, Dad…" I began, breaking into his reverie.</p><p>"What's that, Bell?"</p><p>"I think you're right about Seattle. I think I'll wait until Jessica or someone else</p><p>can go with me."</p><p>"Oh," he said, surprised. "Oh, okay. So, do you want me to stay home?"</p><p>"No, Dad, don't change your plans. I've got a million things to do… homework,</p><p>laundry… I need to go to the library and the grocery store. I'll be in and out all</p><p>day… you go and have fun."</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>"Absolutely, Dad. Besides, the freezer is getting dangerously low on fish —</p><p>we're down to a two, maybe three years' supply."</p><p>"You're sure easy to live with, Bella." He smiled.</p><p>"I could say the same thing about you," I said, laughing. The sound of my</p><p>laughter was off, but he didn't seem to notice. I felt so guilty for deceiving him</p><p>that I almost took Edward's advice and told him where I would be. Almost.</p><p>After dinner, I folded clothes and moved another load through the dryer.</p><p>Unfortunately it was the kind of job that only keeps hands busy. My mind</p><p>definitely had too much free time, and it was getting out of control. I fluctuated</p><p>between anticipation so intense that it was very nearly pain, and an insidious fear</p><p>that picked at my resolve. I had to keep reminding myself that I'd made my</p><p>choice, and I wasn't going back on it. I pulled his note out of my pocket much</p><p>more often than necessary to absorb the two small words he'd written. He wants</p><p>me to be safe, I told myself again and again. I would just hold on to the faith</p><p>that, in the end, that desire would win out over the others. And what was my</p><p>other choice — to cut him out of my life? Intolerable. Besides, since I'd come to</p><p>Forks, it really seemed like my life was about him.</p><p>But a tiny voice in the back of my mind worried, wondering if it would hurt very</p><p>much… if it ended badly.</p><p>I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I knew I</p><p>was far too stressed to sleep, so I did something I'd never done before. I</p><p>deliberately took unnecessary cold medicine — the kind that knocked me out for</p><p>a good eight hours. I normally wouldn't condone that type of behavior in myself,</p><p>but tomorrow would be complicated enough without me being loopy from sleep</p><p>deprivation on top of everything else. While I waited for the drugs to kick in, I</p><p>dried my clean hair till it was impeccably straight, and fussed over what I would</p><p>wear tomorrow. With everything ready for the morning, I finally lay in my bed. I</p><p>felt hyper; I couldn't stop twitching. I got up and rifled through my shoebox of</p><p>CDs until I found a collection of Chopin's nocturnes. I put that on very quietly</p><p>and then lay down again, concentrating on relaxing individual parts of my body.</p><p>Somewhere in the middle of that exercise, the cold pills took effect, and I gladly</p><p>sank into unconsciousness.</p><p>I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly thanks to my gratuitous drug</p><p>use. Though I was well rested, I slipped right back into the same hectic frenzy</p><p>from the night before. I dressed in a rush, smoothing my collar against my neck,</p><p>fidgeting with the tan sweater till it hung right over my jeans. I sneaked a swift</p><p>look out the window to see that Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer</p><p>of clouds veiled the sky. They didn't look very lasting.</p><p>I ate breakfast without tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was done. I</p><p>peeked out the window again, but nothing had changed. I had just finished</p><p>brushing my teeth and was heading back downstairs when a quiet knock sent my</p><p>heart thudding against my rib cage.</p><p>I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple dead bolt, but I yanked</p><p>the door open at last, and there he was. All the agitation dissolved as soon as I</p><p>looked at his face, calm taking its place. I breathed a sigh of relief — yesterday's</p><p>fears seemed very foolish with him here.</p><p>He wasn't smiling at first — his face was somber. But then his expression</p><p>lightened as he looked me over, and he laughed.</p><p>"Good morning," he chuckled.</p><p>"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything</p><p>important, like shoes, or pants.</p><p>"We match." He laughed again. I realized he had a long, light tan sweater on,</p><p>with a white collar showing underneath, and blue jeans. I laughed with him,</p><p>hiding a secret twinge of regret — why did he have to look like a runway model</p><p>when I couldn't?</p><p>I locked the door behind me while he walked to the truck. He waited by the</p><p>passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.</p><p>"We made a deal," I reminded him smugly, climbing into the driver's seat, and</p><p>reaching over to unlock his door.</p><p>"Where to?" I asked.</p><p>"Put your seat belt on — I'm nervous already."</p><p>I gave him a dirty look as I complied.</p><p>"Where to?" I repeated with a sigh.</p><p>"Take the one-oh-one north," he ordered.</p><p>It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his gaze on</p><p>my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-</p><p>sleeping town.</p><p>"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"</p><p>"This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather — have some respect," I</p><p>retorted.</p><p>We were soon out of the town limits, despite his negativity. Thick underbrush</p><p>and green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.</p><p>"Turn right on the one-ten," he instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed</p><p>silently.</p><p>"Now we drive until the pavement ends."</p><p>I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and</p><p>proving him right to look over and be sure.</p><p>"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered.</p><p>"A trail."</p><p>"We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn tennis shoes.</p><p>"Is that a problem?" He sounded as if he'd expected as much.</p><p>"No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if he thought my truck was</p><p>slow…</p><p>"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."</p><p>Five miles. I didn't answer, so that he wouldn't hear my voice crack in panic.</p><p>Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles or</p><p>otherwise incapacitate me. This was going to be humiliating.</p><p>We drove in silence for a while as I contemplated the coming horror.</p><p>"What are you thinking?" he asked impatiently after a few moments.</p><p>I lied again. "Just wondering where we're going."</p><p>"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out the</p><p>windows at the thinning clouds after he spoke.</p><p>"Charlie said it would be warm today."</p><p>"And did you tell Charlie what you were up to?" he asked.</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>"But Jessica thinks we're going to Seattle together?" He seemed cheered by the</p><p>idea.</p><p>"No, I told her you canceled on me — which is true."</p><p>"No one knows you're with me?" Angrily, now.</p><p>"That depends… I assume you told Alice?"</p><p>"That's very helpful, Bella," he snapped.</p><p>I pretended I didn't hear that.</p><p>"Are you so depressed by Forks that it's made you suicidal?" he demanded when</p><p>I ignored him.</p><p>"You said it might cause trouble for you… us being together publicly," I</p><p>reminded him.</p><p>"So you're worried about the trouble it might cause me— if you don't come</p><p>home?" His voice was still angry, and bitingly sarcastic.</p><p>I nodded, keeping</p><p>my eyes on the road.</p><p>He muttered something under his breath, speaking so quickly that I couldn't</p><p>understand.</p><p>We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of infuriated</p><p>disapproval rolling off of him, and I could think of nothing to say.</p><p>And then the road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden</p><p>marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, afraid because he was</p><p>angry with me and I didn't have driving as an excuse not to look at him. It was</p><p>warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived, almost</p><p>muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my sweater and knotted it around my waist,</p><p>glad that I'd worn the light, sleeveless shirt — especially if I had five miles of</p><p>hiking ahead of me.</p><p>I heard his door slam, and looked over to see that he'd removed his sweater, too.</p><p>He was facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck.</p><p>"This way," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, eyes still annoyed. He</p><p>started into the dark forest.</p><p>"The trail?" Panic was clear in my voice as I hurried around the truck to catch up</p><p>to him.</p><p>"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it."</p><p>"No trail?" I asked desperately.</p><p>"I won't let you get lost." He turned then, with a mocking smile, and I stifled a</p><p>gasp. His white shirt was sleeveless, and he wore it unbuttoned, so that the</p><p>smooth white skin of his throat flowed uninterrupted over the marble contours of</p><p>his chest, his perfect musculature no longer merely hinted at behind concealing</p><p>clothes. He was too perfect, I realized with a piercing stab of despair. There was</p><p>no way this godlike creature could be meant for me.</p><p>He stared at me, bewildered by my tortured expression.</p><p>"Do you want to go home?" he said quietly, a different pain than mine saturating</p><p>his voice.</p><p>"No." I walked forward till I was close beside him, anxious not to waste one</p><p>second of whatever time I might have with him.</p><p>"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle.</p><p>"I'm not a good hiker," I answered dully. "You'll have to be very patient."</p><p>"I can be patient — if I make a great effort." He smiled, holding my glance,</p><p>trying to lift me out of my sudden, unexplained dejection.</p><p>I tried to smile back, but the smile was unconvincing. He scrutinized my face.</p><p>"I'll take you home," he promised. I couldn't tell if the promise was</p><p>unconditional, or restricted to an immediate departure. I knew he thought it was</p><p>fear that upset me, and I was grateful again that I was the one person whose</p><p>mind he couldn't hear.</p><p>"If you want me to hack five miles through the jungle before sundown, you'd</p><p>better start leading the way," I said acidly. He frowned at me, struggling to</p><p>understand my tone and expression.</p><p>He gave up after a moment and led the way into the forest.</p><p>It wasn't as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and he held the damp</p><p>ferns and webs of moss aside for me. When his straight path took us over fallen</p><p>trees or boulders, he would help me, lifting me by the elbow, and then releasing</p><p>me instantly when I was clear. His cold touch on my skin never failed to make</p><p>my heart thud erratically. Twice, when that happened, I caught a look on his face</p><p>that made me sure he could somehow hear it.</p><p>I tried to keep my eyes away from his perfection as much as possible, but I</p><p>slipped often. Each time, his beauty pierced me through with sadness.</p><p>For the most part, we walked in silence. Occasionally he would ask a random</p><p>question that he hadn't gotten to in the past two days of interrogation. He asked</p><p>about my birthdays, my grade school teachers, my childhood pets — and I had to</p><p>admit that after killing three fish in a row, I'd given up on the whole institution.</p><p>He laughed at that, louder than I was used to — bell-like echoes bouncing back</p><p>to us from the empty woods.</p><p>The hike took me most of the morning, but he never showed any sign of</p><p>impatience. The forest spread out around us in a boundless labyrinth of ancient</p><p>trees, and I began to be nervous that we would never find our way out again. He</p><p>was perfectly at ease, comfortable in the green maze, never seeming to feel any</p><p>doubt about our direction.</p><p>After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the</p><p>murky olive tone shifting to a brighter jade. The day had turned sunny, just as</p><p>he'd foretold. For the first time since we'd entered the woods, I felt a thrill of</p><p>excitement — which quickly turned to impatience.</p><p>"Are we there yet?" I teased, pretending to scowl.</p><p>"Nearly." He smiled at the change in my mood. "Do you see the brightness</p><p>ahead?"</p><p>I peered into the thick forest. "Um, should I?"</p><p>He smirked. "Maybe it's a bit soon for your eyes."</p><p>"Time to visit the optometrist," I muttered. His smirk grew more pronounced.</p><p>But then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a lightening in the</p><p>trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my</p><p>eagerness growing with every step. He let me lead now, following noiselessly.</p><p>I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns</p><p>into the loveliest place I had ever seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round,</p><p>and filled with wildflowers — violet, yellow, and soft white. Somewhere nearby,</p><p>I could hear the bubbling music of a stream. The sun was directly overhead,</p><p>filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, awestruck,</p><p>through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. I halfway turned,</p><p>wanting to share this with him, but he wasn't behind me where I thought he'd be.</p><p>I spun around, searching for him with sudden alarm. Finally I spotted him, still</p><p>under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with</p><p>cautious eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty of the meadow had</p><p>driven from my mind — the enigma of Edward and the sun, which he'd</p><p>promised to illustrate for me today.</p><p>I took a step back toward him, my eyes alight with curiosity. His eyes were</p><p>wary, reluctant. I smiled encouragingly and beckoned to him with my hand,</p><p>taking another step back to him. He held up a hand in warning, and I hesitated,</p><p>rocking back onto my heels.</p><p>Edward seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright</p><p>glow of the midday sun.</p><p>13. CONFESSIONS</p><p>Edward in the sunlight was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been</p><p>staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush from</p><p>yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were</p><p>embedded in the surface. He lay perfectly still in the grass, his shirt open over</p><p>his sculpted, incandescent chest, his scintillating arms bare. His glistening, pale</p><p>lavender lids were shut, though of course he didn't sleep. A perfect statue, carved</p><p>in some unknown stone, smooth like marble, glittering like crystal.</p><p>Now and then, his lips would move, so fast it looked like they were trembling.</p><p>But, when I asked, he told me he was singing to himself; it was too low for me to</p><p>hear.</p><p>I enjoyed the sun, too, though the air wasn't quite dry enough for my taste. I</p><p>would have liked to lie back, as he did, and let the sun warm my face. But I</p><p>stayed curled up, my chin resting on my knees, unwilling to take my eyes off</p><p>him. The wind was gentle; it tangled my hair and ruffled the grass that swayed</p><p>around his motionless form.</p><p>The meadow, so spectacular to me at first, paled next to his magnificence.</p><p>Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would disappear like a mirage, too</p><p>beautiful to be real… hesitantly, I reached out one finger and stroked the back of</p><p>his shimmering hand, where it lay within my reach. I marveled again at the</p><p>perfect texture, satin smooth, cool as stone. When I looked up again, his eyes</p><p>were open, watching me. Butterscotch today, lighter, warmer after hunting. His</p><p>quick smile turned up the corners of his flawless lips.</p><p>"I don't scare you?" he asked playfully, but I could hear the real</p><p>curiosity in his</p><p>soft voice.</p><p>"No more than usual."</p><p>He smiled wider; his teeth flashed in the sun.</p><p>I inched closer, stretched out my whole hand now to trace the contours of his</p><p>forearm with my fingertips. I saw that my fingers trembled, and knew it wouldn't</p><p>escape his notice.</p><p>"Do you mind?" I asked, for he had closed his eyes again.</p><p>"No," he said without opening his eyes. "You can't imagine how that feels." He</p><p>sighed.</p><p>I lightly trailed my hand over the perfect muscles of his arm, followed the faint</p><p>pattern of bluish veins inside the crease at his elbow. With my other hand, I</p><p>reached to turn his hand over. Realizing what I wished, he flipped his palm up in</p><p>one of those blindingly fast, disconcerting movements of his. It startled me; my</p><p>fingers froze on his arm for a brief second.</p><p>"Sorry," he murmured. I looked up in time to see his golden eyes close again.</p><p>"It's too easy to be myself with you."</p><p>I lifted his hand, turning it this way and that as I watched the sun glitter on his</p><p>palm. I held it closer to my face, trying to see the hidden facets in his skin.</p><p>"Tell me what you're thinking," he whispered. I looked to see his eyes watching</p><p>me, suddenly intent. "It's still so strange for me, not knowing."</p><p>"You know, the rest of us feel that way all the time."</p><p>"It's a hard life." Did I imagine the hint of regret in his tone? "But you didn't tell</p><p>me."</p><p>"I was wishing I could know what you were thinking…" I hesitated.</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"I was wishing that I could believe that you were real. And I was wishing that I</p><p>wasn't afraid."</p><p>"I don't want you to be afraid." His voice was just a soft murmur. I heard what he</p><p>couldn't truthfully say, that I didn't need to be afraid, that there was nothing to</p><p>fear.</p><p>"Well, that's not exactly the fear I meant, though that's certainly something to</p><p>think about."</p><p>So quickly that I missed his movement, he was half sitting, propped up on his</p><p>right arm, his left palm still in my hands. His angel's face was only a few inches</p><p>from mine. I might have — should have — flinched away from his unexpected</p><p>closeness, but I was unable to move. His golden eyes mesmerized me.</p><p>"What are you afraid of, then?" he whispered intently.</p><p>But I couldn't answer. As I had just that once before, I smelled his cool breath in</p><p>my face. Sweet, delicious, the scent made my mouth water. It was unlike</p><p>anything else. Instinctively, unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.</p><p>And he was gone, his hand ripped from mine. In the time it took my eyes to</p><p>focus, he was twenty feet away, standing at the edge of the small meadow, in the</p><p>deep shade of a huge fir tree. He stared at me, his eyes dark in the shadows, his</p><p>expression unreadable.</p><p>I could feel the hurt and shock on my face. My empty hands stung.</p><p>"I'm… sorry… Edward," I whispered. I knew he could hear.</p><p>"Give me a moment," he called, just loud enough for my less sensitive ears. I sat</p><p>very still.</p><p>After ten incredibly long seconds, he walked back, slowly for him. He stopped,</p><p>still several feet away, and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing his legs. His</p><p>eyes never left mine. He took two deep breaths, and then smiled in apology.</p><p>"I am so very sorry." He hesitated. "Would you understand what I meant if I said</p><p>I was only human?"</p><p>I nodded once, not quite able to smile at his joke. Adrenaline pulsed through my</p><p>veins as the realization of danger slowly sank in. He could smell that from where</p><p>he sat. His smile turned mocking.</p><p>"I'm the world's best predator, aren't I? Everything about me invites you in —</p><p>my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any of that!" Unexpectedly, he</p><p>was on his feet, bounding away, instantly out of sight, only to appear beneath the</p><p>same tree as before, having circled the meadow in half a second.</p><p>"As if you could outrun me," he laughed bitterly.</p><p>He reached up with one hand and, with a deafening crack, effortlessly ripped a</p><p>two-foot-thick branch from the trunk of the spruce. He balanced it in that hand</p><p>for a moment, and then threw it with blinding speed, shattering it against another</p><p>huge tree, which shook and trembled at the blow.</p><p>And he was in front of me again, standing two feet away, still as a stone.</p><p>"As if you could fight me off," he said gently.</p><p>I sat without moving, more frightened of him than I had ever been. I'd never seen</p><p>him so completely freed of that carefully cultivated facade. He'd never been less</p><p>human… or more beautiful. Face ashen, eyes wide, I sat like a bird locked in the</p><p>eyes of a snake.</p><p>His lovely eyes seem to glow with rash excitement. Then, as the seconds passed,</p><p>they dimmed. His expression slowly folded into a mask of ancient sadness.</p><p>"Don't be afraid," he murmured, his velvet voice unintentionally seductive. "I</p><p>promise…" He hesitated. "I swear not to hurt you." He seemed more concerned</p><p>with convincing himself than me.</p><p>"Don't be afraid," he whispered again as he stepped closer, with exaggerated</p><p>slowness. He sat sinuously, with deliberately unhurried movements, till our faces</p><p>were on the same level, just a foot apart.</p><p>"Please forgive me," he said formally. "I can control myself. You caught me off</p><p>guard. But I'm on my best behavior now."</p><p>He waited, but I still couldn't speak.</p><p>"I'm not thirsty today, honestly." He winked.</p><p>At that I had to laugh, though the sound was shaky and breathless.</p><p>"Are you all right?" he asked tenderly, reaching out slowly, carefully, to place</p><p>his marble hand back in mine.</p><p>I looked at his smooth, cold hand, and then at his eyes. They were soft,</p><p>repentant. I looked back at his hand, and then deliberately returned to tracing the</p><p>lines in his hand with my fingertip. I looked up and smiled timidly.</p><p>His answering smile was dazzling.</p><p>"So where were we, before I behaved so rudely?" he asked in the gentle</p><p>cadences of an earlier century.</p><p>"I honestly can't remember."</p><p>He smiled, but his face was ashamed. "I think we were talking about why you</p><p>were afraid, besides the obvious reason."</p><p>"Oh, right."</p><p>"Well?"</p><p>I looked down at his hand and doodled aimlessly across his smooth, iridescent</p><p>palm. The seconds ticked by.</p><p>"How easily frustrated I am," he sighed. I looked into his eyes, abruptly grasping</p><p>that this was every bit as new to him as it was to me. As many years of</p><p>unfathomable experience as he had, this was hard for him, too. I took courage</p><p>from that thought.</p><p>"I was afraid… because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can't stay with you. And</p><p>I'm afraid that I'd like to stay with you, much more than I should." I looked down</p><p>at his hands as I spoke. It was difficult for me to say this aloud.</p><p>"Yes," he agreed slowly. "That is something to be afraid of, indeed. Wanting to</p><p>be with me. That's really not in your best interest."</p><p>I frowned.</p><p>"I should have left long ago," he sighed. "I should leave now. But I don't know if</p><p>I can."</p><p>"I don't want you to leave," I mumbled pathetically, staring down again.</p><p>"Which is exactly why I should. But don't worry. I'm essentially a selfish</p><p>creature. I crave your company too much to do what I should."</p><p>"I'm glad."</p><p>"Don't be!" He withdrew his hand, more gently this time; his voice was harsher</p><p>than usual. Harsh for him, still more beautiful than any human voice. It was hard</p><p>to keep up — his sudden mood changes left me always a step behind, dazed.</p><p>"It's not only your company I crave! Never forget that. Never forget I am more</p><p>dangerous to you than I am to anyone else." He stopped, and I looked to see him</p><p>gazing unseeingly into the forest.</p><p>I thought for a moment.</p><p>"I don't think I understand exactly what you mean — by that last part anyway," I</p><p>said.</p><p>He looked back at me and smiled, his mood shifting yet again.</p><p>"How do I explain?" he mused. "And without frightening you again…</p><p>hmmmm." Without seeming to think about it, he placed his hand back in mine; I</p><p>held it tightly in both of mine. He looked at our hands.</p><p>"That's amazingly pleasant, the warmth." He sighed.</p><p>A moment passed as he assembled his thoughts.</p><p>"You know how everyone enjoys different flavors?" he began. "Some people</p><p>love chocolate ice cream, others prefer strawberry?"</p><p>I nodded.</p><p>"Sorry about the food analogy — I couldn't think of another way to explain."</p><p>I smiled. He smiled ruefully back.</p><p>"You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you locked an</p><p>alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he'd gladly drink it. But he could resist, if</p><p>he wished to, if he were a recovering alcoholic. Now let's say you placed in that</p><p>room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac — and filled</p><p>the room with its warm aroma — how do you think he would fare then?"</p><p>We sat silently, looking into each other's eyes — trying to read each other's</p><p>thoughts.</p><p>He broke the silence first.</p><p>"Maybe that's not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to turn down</p><p>the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin addict instead."</p><p>"So what you're saying is, I'm your brand of heroin?" I teased, trying to lighten</p><p>the mood.</p><p>He smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. "Yes, you are exactly my</p><p>brand of heroin."</p><p>"Does that happen often?" I asked.</p><p>He looked across the treetops, thinking through his response.</p><p>"I spoke to my brothers about it." He still stared into the distance. "To Jasper,</p><p>every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to join our family. It's a</p><p>struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn't had time to grow sensitive to the</p><p>differences in smell, in flavor." He glanced swiftly at me, his expression</p><p>apologetic.</p><p>"Sorry," he said.</p><p>"I don't mind. Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me, or</p><p>whichever. That's the way you think. I can understand, or I can try to at least.</p><p>Just explain however you can."</p><p>He took a deep breath and gazed at the sky again.</p><p>"So Jasper wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as" — he</p><p>hesitated, looking for the right word — "appealing as you are to me. Which</p><p>makes me think not. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he</p><p>understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, once stronger than the other."</p><p>"And for you?"</p><p>"Never."</p><p>The word hung there for a moment in the warm breeze.</p><p>"What did Emmett do?" I asked to break the silence.</p><p>It was the wrong question to ask. His face grew dark, his hand clenched into a</p><p>fist inside mine. He looked away. I waited, but he wasn't going to answer.</p><p>"I guess I know," I finally said.</p><p>He lifted his eyes; his expression was wistful, pleading.</p><p>"Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?"</p><p>"What are you asking? My permission?" My voice was sharper than I'd intended.</p><p>I tried to make my tone kinder — I could guess what his honesty must cost him.</p><p>"I mean, is there no hope, then?" How calmly I could discuss my own death!</p><p>"No, no!" He was instantly contrite. "Of course there's hope! I mean, of course I</p><p>won't…" He left the sentence hanging. His eyes burned into mine. "It's different</p><p>for us. Emmett… these were strangers he happened across. It was a long time</p><p>ago, and he wasn't as… practiced, as careful, as he is now."</p><p>He fell silent and watched me intently as I thought it through.</p><p>"So if we'd met… oh, in a dark alley or something…" I trailed off.</p><p>"It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class full of</p><p>children and —" He stopped abruptly, looking away. "When you walked past</p><p>me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle has built for us, right then and there.</p><p>If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn't</p><p>have been able to stop myself." He paused, scowling at the trees.</p><p>He glanced at me grimly, both of us remembering. "You must have thought I</p><p>was possessed."</p><p>"I couldn't understand why. How you could hate me so quickly…"</p><p>"To me, it was like you were some kind of demon, summoned straight from my</p><p>own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin… I thought it</p><p>would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred</p><p>different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought</p><p>them each back, thinking of my family, what I could do to them. I had to run out,</p><p>to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow…"</p><p>He looked up then at my staggered expression as I tried to absorb his bitter</p><p>memories. His golden eyes scorched from under his lashes, hypnotic and deadly.</p><p>"You would have come," he promised.</p><p>I tried to speak calmly. "Without a doubt."</p><p>He frowned down at my hands, releasing me from the force of his stare. "And</p><p>then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, you</p><p>were there — in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very</p><p>nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there — so easily</p><p>dealt with."</p><p>I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through his eyes, only</p><p>now grasping the danger. Poor Ms. Cope; I shivered again at how close I'd come</p><p>to being inadvertently responsible for her death.</p><p>"But I resisted. I don't know how. I forced myself not to wait for you, not to</p><p>follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn't smell you</p><p>anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I left the others near home</p><p>— I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something</p><p>was very wrong — and then I went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him</p><p>I was leaving."</p><p>I stared in surprise.</p><p>"I traded cars with him — he had a full tank of gas and I didn't want to stop. I</p><p>didn't dare to go home, to face Esme. She wouldn't have let me go without a</p><p>scene. She would have tried to convince me that it wasn't necessary…</p><p>"By the next morning I was in Alaska." He sounded ashamed, as if admitting a</p><p>great cowardice. "I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances… but I</p><p>was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset Esme, and the rest of them, my adopted</p><p>family. In the pure air of the mountains it was hard to believe you were so</p><p>irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I'd dealt with</p><p>temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who</p><p>were you, an insignificant little girl" — he grinned suddenly — "to chase me</p><p>from the place I wanted to be? So I came back…" He stared off into space.</p><p>I couldn't speak.</p><p>"I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. I</p><p>was sure that I was strong enough to treat you like any other human. I was</p><p>arrogant about it.</p><p>"It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read your thoughts</p><p>to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn't used to having to go to such</p><p>circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jessica's mind… her mind isn't</p><p>very original, and it was annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I couldn't</p><p>know if you really meant what you said. It was all extremely irritating." He</p><p>frowned at the memory.</p><p>"I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk</p><p>with you like I would with any person. I was eager actually, hoping to decipher</p><p>some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting, I found myself caught up in</p><p>your expressions… and every now and then you would stir the air with your</p><p>hand or your hair, and the scent would stun me again…</p><p>"Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes. Later I</p><p>thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment — because if</p><p>I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't</p><p>think I could have stopped myself from exposing us for what we are. But I only</p><p>thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, 'Not her.'"</p><p>He closed his eyes, lost in his agonized confession. I listened, more eager than</p><p>rational. Common sense told me I should be terrified. Instead, I was relieved to</p><p>finally understand. And I was filled with compassion for his suffering, even now,</p><p>as he confessed his craving to take my life.</p><p>I finally was able to speak, though my voice was faint. "In the hospital?"</p><p>His</p><p>eyes flashed up to mine. "I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had put us in</p><p>danger after all, put myself in your power — you of all people. As if I needed</p><p>another motive to kill you." We both flinched as that word slipped out. "But it</p><p>had the opposite effect," he continued quickly. "I fought with Rosalie, Emmett,</p><p>and Jasper when they suggested that now was the time… the worst fight we've</p><p>ever had. Carlisle sided with me, and Alice." He grimaced when he said her</p><p>name. I couldn't imagine why. "Esme told me to do whatever I had to in order to</p><p>stay." He shook his head indulgently.</p><p>"All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to,</p><p>shocked that you kept your word. I didn't understand you at all. But I knew that I</p><p>couldn't become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from</p><p>you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath, your</p><p>hair… it hit me as hard as the very first day."</p><p>He met my eyes again, and they were surprisingly tender.</p><p>"And for all that," he continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at</p><p>that first moment, than if now, here — with no witnesses and nothing to stop me</p><p>— I were to hurt you."</p><p>I was human enough to have to ask. "Why?"</p><p>"Isabella." He pronounced my full name carefully, then playfully ruffled my hair</p><p>with his free hand. A shock ran through my body at his casual touch. "Bella, I</p><p>couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don't know how it's tortured</p><p>me." He looked down, ashamed again. "The thought of you, still, white, cold…</p><p>to never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your</p><p>eyes when you see through my pretenses… it would be unendurable." He lifted</p><p>his glorious, agonized eyes to mine. "You are the most important thing to me</p><p>now. The most important thing to me ever."</p><p>My head was spinning at the rapid change in direction our conversation had</p><p>taken. From the cheerful topic of my impending demise, we were suddenly</p><p>declaring ourselves. He waited, and even though I looked down to study our</p><p>hands between us, I knew his golden eyes were on me. "You already know how I</p><p>feel, of course," I finally said. "I'm here… which, roughly translated, means I</p><p>would rather die than stay away from you." I frowned. "I'm an idiot."</p><p>"You are an idiot," he agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met, and I laughed, too. We</p><p>laughed together at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such a moment.</p><p>"And so the lion fell in love with the lamb…" he murmured. I looked away,</p><p>hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word.</p><p>"What a stupid lamb," I sighed.</p><p>"What a sick, masochistic lion." He stared into the shadowy forest for a long</p><p>moment, and I wondered where his thoughts had taken him.</p><p>"Why… ?" I began, and then paused, not sure how to continue.</p><p>He looked at me and smiled; sunlight glinted off his face, his teeth.</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"Tell me why you ran from me before."</p><p>His smile faded. "You know why."</p><p>"No, I mean, exactly what did I do wrong? I'll have to be on my guard, you see,</p><p>so I better start learning what I shouldn't do. This, for example" — I stroked the</p><p>back of his hand — "seems to be all right."</p><p>He smiled again. "You didn't do anything wrong, Bella. It was my fault."</p><p>"But I want to help, if I can, to not make this harder for you."</p><p>"Well…" He contemplated for a moment. "It was just how close you were. Most</p><p>humans instinctively shy away from us, are repelled by our alienness… I wasn't</p><p>expecting you to come so close. And the smell of your throat." He stopped short,</p><p>looking to see if he'd upset me.</p><p>"Okay, then," I said flippantly, trying to alleviate the suddenly tense atmosphere.</p><p>I tucked my chin. "No throat exposure."</p><p>It worked; he laughed. "No, really, it was more the surprise than anything else."</p><p>He raised his free hand and placed it gently on the side of my neck. I sat very</p><p>still, the chill of his touch a natural warning — a warning telling me to be</p><p>terrified. But there was no feeling of fear in me. There were, however, other</p><p>feelings…</p><p>"You see," he said. "Perfectly fine."</p><p>My blood was racing, and I wished I could slow it, sensing that this must make</p><p>everything so much more difficult — the thudding of my pulse in my veins.</p><p>Surely he could hear it.</p><p>"The blush on your cheeks is lovely," he murmured. He gently freed his other</p><p>hand. My hands fell limply into my lap. Softly he brushed my cheek, then held</p><p>my face between his marble hands.</p><p>"Be very still," he whispered, as if I wasn't already frozen.</p><p>Slowly, never moving his eyes from mine, he leaned toward me. Then abruptly,</p><p>but very gently, he rested his cold cheek against the hollow at the base of my</p><p>throat. I was quite unable to move, even if I'd wanted to. I listened to the sound</p><p>of his even breathing, watching the sun and wind play in his bronze hair, more</p><p>human than any other part of him.</p><p>With deliberate slowness, his hands slid down the sides of my neck. I shivered,</p><p>and I heard him catch his breath. But his hands didn't pause as they softly moved</p><p>to my shoulders, and then stopped.</p><p>His face drifted to the side, his nose skimming across my collarbone. He came to</p><p>rest with the side of his face pressed tenderly against my chest.</p><p>Listening to my heart.</p><p>"Ah," he sighed.</p><p>I don't know how long we sat without moving. It could have been hours.</p><p>Eventually the throb of my pulse quieted, but he didn't move or speak again as</p><p>he held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end</p><p>— so quickly that I might not even notice. And I couldn't make myself be afraid.</p><p>I couldn't think of anything, except that he was touching me.</p><p>And then, too soon, he released me.</p><p>His eyes were peaceful.</p><p>"It won't be so hard again," he said with satisfaction.</p><p>"Was that very hard for you?"</p><p>"Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would be. And you?"</p><p>"No, it wasn't bad… for me."</p><p>He smiled at my inflection. "You know what I mean."</p><p>I smiled.</p><p>"Here." He took my hand and placed it against his cheek. "Do you feel how</p><p>warm it is?"</p><p>And it was almost warm, his usually icy skin. But I barely noticed, for I was</p><p>touching his face, something I'd dreamed of constantly since the first day I'd seen</p><p>him.</p><p>"Don't move," I whispered.</p><p>No one could be still like Edward. He closed his eyes and became as immobile</p><p>as stone, a carving under my hand.</p><p>I moved even more slowly than he had, careful not to make one unexpected</p><p>move. I caressed his cheek, delicately stroked his eyelid, the purple shadow in</p><p>the hollow under his eye. I traced the shape of his perfect nose, and then, so</p><p>carefully, his flawless lips. His lips parted under my hand, and I could feel his</p><p>cool breath on my fingertips. I wanted to lean in, to inhale the scent of him. So I</p><p>dropped my hand and leaned away, not wanting to push him too far.</p><p>He opened his eyes, and they were hungry. Not in a way to make me fear, but</p><p>rather to tighten the muscles in the pit of my stomach and send my pulse</p><p>hammering through my veins again.</p><p>"I wish," he whispered, "I wish you could feel the… complexity… the</p><p>confusion… I feel. That you could understand."</p><p>He raised his hand to my hair, then carefully brushed it across my face.</p><p>"Tell me," I breathed.</p><p>"I don't think I can. I've told you, on the one hand, the hunger — the thirst —</p><p>that, deplorable creature that I am, I feel for you. And I think you can understand</p><p>that, to an extent. Though" — he half-smiled — "as you are not addicted to any</p><p>illegal substances, you probably can't empathize completely.</p><p>"But…" His fingers touched my lips lightly, making me shiver again. "There are</p><p>other hungers. Hungers I don't even understand, that are foreign to me."</p><p>"I may understand that better than you think."</p><p>"I'm not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?"</p><p>"For me?" I paused. "No, never. Never before this."</p><p>He held my hands between his. They felt so feeble in his iron strength.</p><p>"I don't know how to be close to you," he admitted. "I don't know if I can."</p><p>I leaned forward very slowly, cautioning him</p><p>with my eyes. I placed my cheek</p><p>against his stone chest. I could hear his breath, and nothing else.</p><p>"This is enough," I sighed, closing my eyes.</p><p>In a very human gesture, he put his arms around me and pressed his face against</p><p>my hair.</p><p>"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for," I noted.</p><p>"I have human instincts — they may be buried deep, but they're there."</p><p>We sat like that for another immeasurable moment; I wondered if he could be as</p><p>unwilling to move as I was. But I could see the light was fading, the shadows of</p><p>the forest beginning to touch us, and I sighed.</p><p>"You have to go."</p><p>"I thought you couldn't read my mind."</p><p>"It's getting clearer." I could hear a smile in his voice.</p><p>He took my shoulders and I looked into his face.</p><p>"Can I show you something?" he asked, sudden excitement flaring in his eyes.</p><p>"Show me what?"</p><p>"I'll show you how I travel in the forest." He saw my expression. "Don't worry,</p><p>you'll be very safe, and we'll get to your truck much faster." His mouth twitched</p><p>up into that crooked smile so beautiful my heart nearly stopped.</p><p>"Will you turn into a bat?" I asked warily.</p><p>He laughed, louder than I'd ever heard. "Like I haven't heard that one before!"</p><p>"Right, I'm sure you get that all the time."</p><p>"Come on, little coward, climb on my back."</p><p>I waited to see if he was kidding, but, apparently, he meant it. He smiled as he</p><p>read my hesitation, and reached for me. My heart reacted; even though he</p><p>couldn't hear my thoughts, my pulse always gave me away. He then proceeded to</p><p>sling me onto his back, with very little effort on my part, besides, when in place,</p><p>clamping my legs and arms so tightly around him that it would choke a normal</p><p>person. It was like clinging to a stone.</p><p>"I'm a bit heavier than your average backpack," I warned.</p><p>"Hah!" he snorted. I could almost hear his eyes rolling. I'd never seen him in</p><p>such high spirits before.</p><p>He startled me, suddenly grabbing my hand, pressing my palm to his face, and</p><p>inhaling deeply.</p><p>"Easier all the time," he muttered.</p><p>And then he was running.</p><p>If I'd ever feared death before in his presence, it was nothing compared to how I</p><p>felt now.</p><p>He streaked through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest like a bullet, like a</p><p>ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that his feet touched the earth. His</p><p>breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at</p><p>deadly speeds, always missing us by inches.</p><p>I was too terrified to close my eyes, though the cool forest air whipped against</p><p>my face and burned them. I felt as if I were stupidly sticking my head out the</p><p>window of an airplane in flight. And, for the first time in my life, I felt the dizzy</p><p>faintness of motion sickness.</p><p>Then it was over. We'd hiked hours this morning to reach Edward's meadow, and</p><p>now, in a matter of minutes, we were back to the truck.</p><p>"Exhilarating, isn't it?" His voice was high, excited.</p><p>He stood motionless, waiting for me to climb down. I tried, but my muscles</p><p>wouldn't respond. My arms and legs stayed locked around him while my head</p><p>spun uncomfortably.</p><p>"Bella?" he asked, anxious now.</p><p>"I think I need to lie down," I gasped.</p><p>"Oh, sorry." He waited for me, but I still couldn't move.</p><p>"I think I need help," I admitted.</p><p>He laughed quietly, and gently unloosened my stranglehold on his neck. There</p><p>was no resisting the iron strength of his hands. Then he pulled me around to face</p><p>him, cradling me in his arms like a small child. He held me for a moment, then</p><p>carefully placed me on the springy ferns.</p><p>"How do you feel?" he asked.</p><p>I couldn't be sure how I felt when my head was spinning so crazily. "Dizzy, I</p><p>think."</p><p>"Put your head between your knees."</p><p>I tried that, and it helped a little. I breathed in and out slowly, keeping my head</p><p>very still. I felt him sitting beside me. The moments passed, and eventually I</p><p>found that I could raise my head. There was a hollow ringing sound in my ears.</p><p>"I guess that wasn't the best idea," he mused.</p><p>I tried to be positive, but my voice was weak. "No, it was very interesting."</p><p>"Hah! You're as white as a ghost — no, you're as white as me!"</p><p>"I think I should have closed my eyes."</p><p>"Remember that next time."</p><p>"Next time!" I groaned.</p><p>He laughed, his mood still radiant.</p><p>"Show-off," I muttered.</p><p>"Open your eyes, Bella," he said quietly.</p><p>And he was right there, his face so close to mine. His beauty stunned my mind</p><p>— it was too much, an excess I couldn't grow accustomed to.</p><p>"I was thinking, while I was running…" He paused.</p><p>"About not hitting the trees, I hope."</p><p>"Silly Bella," he chuckled. "Running is second nature to me, it's not something I</p><p>have to think about."</p><p>"Show-off," I muttered again.</p><p>He smiled.</p><p>"No," he continued, "I was thinking there was something I wanted to try." And</p><p>he took my face in his hands again.</p><p>I couldn't breathe.</p><p>He hesitated — not in the normal way, the human way.</p><p>Not the way a man might hesitate before he kissed a woman, to gauge her</p><p>reaction, to see how he would be received. Perhaps he would hesitate to prolong</p><p>the moment, that ideal moment of anticipation, sometimes better than the kiss</p><p>itself.</p><p>Edward hesitated to test himself, to see if this was safe, to make sure he was still</p><p>in control of his need.</p><p>And then his cold, marble lips pressed very softly against mine.</p><p>What neither of us was prepared for was my response.</p><p>Blood boiled under my skin, burned in my lips. My breath came in a wild gasp.</p><p>My fingers knotted in his hair, clutching him to me. My lips parted as I breathed</p><p>in his heady scent.</p><p>Immediately I felt him turn to unresponsive stone beneath my lips. His hands</p><p>gently, but with irresistible force, pushed my face back. I opened my eyes and</p><p>saw his guarded expression.</p><p>"Oops," I breathed.</p><p>"That's an understatement."</p><p>His eyes were wild, his jaw clenched in acute restraint, yet he didn't lapse from</p><p>his perfect articulation. He held my face just inches from his. He dazzled my</p><p>eyes.</p><p>"Should I… ?" I tried to disengage myself, to give him some room.</p><p>His hands refused to let me move so much as an inch.</p><p>"No, it's tolerable. Wait for a moment, please." His voice was polite, controlled.</p><p>I kept my eyes on his, watched as the excitement in them faded and gentled.</p><p>Then he smiled a surprisingly impish grin.</p><p>"There," he said, obviously pleased with himself.</p><p>"Tolerable?" I asked.</p><p>He laughed aloud. "I'm stronger than I thought. It's nice to know."</p><p>"I wish I could say the same. I'm sorry."</p><p>"You are only human, after all."</p><p>"Thanks so much," I said, my voice acerbic.</p><p>He was on his feet in one of his lithe, almost invisibly quick movements. He held</p><p>out his hand to me, an unexpected gesture. I was so used to our standard of</p><p>careful non-contact. I took his icy hand, needing the support more than I thought.</p><p>My balance had not yet returned.</p><p>"Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?" How</p><p>lighthearted, how human he seemed as he laughed now, his seraphic face</p><p>untroubled. He was a different Edward than the one I had known. And I felt all</p><p>the more besotted by him. It would cause me physical pain to be separated from</p><p>him now.</p><p>"I can't be sure, I'm still woozy," I managed to respond. "I think it's some of</p><p>both, though."</p><p>"Maybe you should let me drive."</p><p>"Are you insane?" I protested.</p><p>"I can drive better than you on your best day," he teased. "You have much</p><p>slower reflexes."</p><p>"I'm sure that's true, but I don't think my nerves, or my truck, could take it."</p><p>"Some trust, please, Bella."</p><p>My hand was in my pocket, curled tightly around the key. I pursed my lips,</p><p>deliberated, then shook my head with a tight grin.</p><p>"Nope. Not a chance."</p><p>He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.</p><p>I started to step around him, heading for the driver's side. He might have let me</p><p>pass if I hadn't wobbled slightly. Then again, he might not have. His arm created</p><p>an inescapable snare around my waist.</p><p>"Bella, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep</p><p>you alive. I'm not about to let you behind</p><p>the wheel of a vehicle when you can't</p><p>even walk straight. Besides, friends don't let friends drive drunk," he quoted with</p><p>a chuckle. I could smell the unbearably sweet fragrance coming off his chest.</p><p>"Drunk?" I objected.</p><p>"You're intoxicated by my very presence." He was grinning that playful smirk</p><p>again.</p><p>"I can't argue with that," I sighed. There was no way around it; I couldn't resist</p><p>him in anything. I held the key high and dropped it, watching his hand flash like</p><p>lightning to catch it soundlessly. "Take it easy — my truck is a senior citizen."</p><p>"Very sensible," he approved.</p><p>"And are you not affected at all?" I asked, irked. "By my presence?"</p><p>Again his mobile features transformed, his expression became soft, warm. He</p><p>didn't answer at first; he simply bent his face to mine, and brushed his lips</p><p>slowly along my jaw, from my ear to my chin, back and forth. I trembled.</p><p>"Regardless," he finally murmured, "I have better reflexes."</p><p>14. MIND OVER MATTER</p><p>He could drive well, when he kept the speed reasonable, I had to admit. Like so</p><p>many things, it seemed to be effortless to him. He barely looked at the road, yet</p><p>the tires never deviated so much as a centimeter from the center of the lane. He</p><p>drove one-handed, holding my hand on the seat. Sometimes he gazed into the</p><p>setting sun, sometimes he glanced at me — my face, my hair blowing out the</p><p>open window, our hands twined together.</p><p>He had turned the radio to an oldies station, and he sang along with a song I'd</p><p>never heard. He knew every line.</p><p>"You like fifties music?" I asked.</p><p>"Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the seventies,</p><p>ugh!" He shuddered. "The eighties were bearable."</p><p>"Are you ever going to tell me how old you are?" I asked, tentative, not wanting</p><p>to upset his buoyant humor.</p><p>"Does it matter much?" His smile, to my relief, remained unclouded.</p><p>"No, but I still wonder…" I grimaced. "There's nothing like an unsolved mystery</p><p>to keep you up at night."</p><p>"I wonder if it will upset you," he reflected to himself. He gazed into the sun; the</p><p>minutes passed.</p><p>"Try me," I finally said.</p><p>He sighed, and then looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the road completely</p><p>for a time. Whatever he saw there must have encouraged him. He looked into the</p><p>sun — the light of the setting orb glittered off his skin in ruby-tinged sparkles —</p><p>and spoke.</p><p>"I was born in Chicago in 1901." He paused and glanced at me from the corner</p><p>of his eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, patient for the rest. He smiled a</p><p>tiny smile and continued. "Carlisle found me in a hospital in the summer of</p><p>1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanish influenza."</p><p>He heard my intake of breath, though it was barely audible to my own ears. He</p><p>looked down into my eyes again.</p><p>"I don't remember it well — it was a very long time ago, and human memories</p><p>fade." He was lost in his thoughts for a short time before he went on. "I do</p><p>remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. It's not an easy thing, not</p><p>something you could forget."</p><p>"Your parents?"</p><p>"They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why he chose</p><p>me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone."</p><p>"How did he… save you?"</p><p>A few seconds passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his words</p><p>carefully.</p><p>"It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it.</p><p>But Carlisle has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of us… I</p><p>don't think you could find his equal throughout all of history." He paused. "For</p><p>me, it was merely very, very painful."</p><p>I could tell from the set of his lips, he would say no more on this subject. I</p><p>suppressed my curiosity, though it was far from idle. There were many things I</p><p>needed to think through on this particular issue, things that were only beginning</p><p>to occur to me. No doubt his quick mind had already comprehended every aspect</p><p>that eluded me.</p><p>His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "He acted from loneliness. That's usually</p><p>the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle's family, though he found</p><p>Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. They brought her straight to the hospital</p><p>morgue, though, somehow, her heart was still beating."</p><p>"So you must be dying, then, to become…" We never said the word, and I</p><p>couldn't frame it now.</p><p>"No, that's just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had another</p><p>choice." The respect in his voice was profound whenever he spoke of his father</p><p>figure. "It is easier he says, though," he continued, "if the blood is weak." He</p><p>looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel the subject closing again.</p><p>"And Emmett and Rosalie?"</p><p>"Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next. I didn't realize till much later that</p><p>he was hoping she would be to me what Esme was to him — he was careful with</p><p>his thoughts around me." He rolled his eyes. "But she was never more than a</p><p>sister. It was only two years later that she found Emmett. She was hunting — we</p><p>were in Appalachia at the time — and found a bear about to finish him off. She</p><p>carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn't be</p><p>able to do it herself. I'm only beginning to guess how difficult that journey was</p><p>for her." He threw a pointed glance in my direction, and raised our hands, still</p><p>folded together, to brush my cheek with the back of his hand.</p><p>"But she made it," I encouraged, looking away from the unbearable beauty of his</p><p>eyes.</p><p>"Yes," he murmured. "She saw something in his face that made her strong</p><p>enough. And they've been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately</p><p>from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we</p><p>can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled in high</p><p>school." He laughed. "I suppose we'll have to go to their wedding in a few years,</p><p>again."</p><p>"Alice and Jasper?"</p><p>"Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience,</p><p>as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belonged to another… family,</p><p>a very different kind of family. He became depressed, and he wandered on his</p><p>own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm</p><p>for our kind."</p><p>"Really?" I interrupted, fascinated. "But you said you were the only one who</p><p>could hear people's thoughts."</p><p>"That's true. She knows other things. She sees things — things that might</p><p>happen, things that are coming. But it's very subjective. The future isn't set in</p><p>stone. Things change."</p><p>His jaw set when he said that, and his eyes darted to my face and away so</p><p>quickly that I wasn't sure if I only imagined it.</p><p>"What kinds of things does she see?"</p><p>"She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it himself.</p><p>She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us. She's most</p><p>sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example, when another group of</p><p>our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose."</p><p>"Are there a lot of… your kind?" I was surprised. How many of them could walk</p><p>among us undetected?</p><p>"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those like us,</p><p>who've given up hunting you people" — a sly glance in my direction — "can</p><p>live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found one other</p><p>family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but</p><p>there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live…</p><p>differently tend to band together."</p><p>"And the others?"</p><p>"Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets tedious,</p><p>like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of</p><p>us prefer the North."</p><p>"Why is that?"</p><p>We were parked in front of my house now, and he'd turned off the truck. It was</p><p>very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off so I knew my</p><p>father wasn't home yet.</p><p>"Did you have your eyes open this afternoon?" he teased. "Do you think I could</p><p>walk down the street</p><p>from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting</p><p>on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something</p><p>bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of</p><p>my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over</p><p>my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention</p><p>to the teacher.</p><p>Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already</p><p>studied. I took notes carefully anyway, always looking down.</p><p>I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair</p><p>at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff</p><p>position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see</p><p>his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his</p><p>pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt</p><p>pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular</p><p>beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly</p><p>brother.</p><p>The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was</p><p>finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It</p><p>never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was</p><p>wrong with him? Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on</p><p>Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was not as resentful as I'd thought.</p><p>It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't know me from Eve.</p><p>I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me</p><p>again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking</p><p>against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.</p><p>At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was</p><p>out of his seat. Fluidly he rose — he was much taller than I'd thought — his back</p><p>to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.</p><p>I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair.</p><p>I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me,</p><p>for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to</p><p>my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency.</p><p>"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.</p><p>I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled</p><p>into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn't think I</p><p>smelled bad.</p><p>"Bella," I corrected him, with a smile.</p><p>"I'm Mike."</p><p>"Hi, Mike."</p><p>"Do you need any help finding your next class?"</p><p>"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."</p><p>"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a</p><p>coincidence in a school this small.</p><p>We walked to class together; he was a chatterer — he supplied most of the</p><p>conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he was ten,</p><p>so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class</p><p>also. He was the nicest person I'd met today.</p><p>But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen</p><p>with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."</p><p>I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't</p><p>Edward Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.</p><p>"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.</p><p>"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."</p><p>"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."</p><p>"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing</p><p>room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."</p><p>I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was</p><p>friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.</p><p>The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress</p><p>down for today's class. At home, only two years of RE. were required. Here, P.E.</p><p>was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.</p><p>I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how</p><p>many injuries I had sustained — and inflicted — playing volleyball, I felt faintly</p><p>nauseated.</p><p>The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork.</p><p>The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my</p><p>arms around myself.</p><p>When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back</p><p>out.</p><p>Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled</p><p>bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed</p><p>against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.</p><p>He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of</p><p>the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time —</p><p>any other time.</p><p>I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else,</p><p>something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his</p><p>face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that</p><p>this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me.</p><p>The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room,</p><p>rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who</p><p>came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked</p><p>out again. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at</p><p>me — his face was absurdly handsome — with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an</p><p>instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only</p><p>lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to</p><p>the receptionist.</p><p>"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's</p><p>impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel</p><p>without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.</p><p>I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her</p><p>the signed slip.</p><p>"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.</p><p>"Fine," I lied, my voice weak. She didn't look convinced.</p><p>When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a</p><p>haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat</p><p>inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold</p><p>enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I</p><p>headed back to Charlie's house, fighting tears the whole way there.</p><p>2. OPEN BOOK</p><p>The next day was better… and worse.</p><p>It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were dense and</p><p>opaque. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day. Mike came to sit</p><p>by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring</p><p>at him all the while; that was nattering. People didn't look at me quite as much as</p><p>they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Mike, Eric,</p><p>Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I now remembered. I</p><p>began to feel like I was treading water, instead of drowning in it.</p><p>It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the wind echoing</p><p>around the house. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when</p><p>my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong answer. It was miserable because I</p><p>had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn't cringe out of the way of the ball,</p><p>I hit my teammate in the head with it. And it was worse because Edward Cullen</p><p>wasn't in school at all.</p><p>All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing his bizarre glares. Part of me wanted</p><p>to confront him and demand to know what his problem was. While I was lying</p><p>sleepless in my bed, I even imagined what I would say. But I knew myself</p><p>in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There's a</p><p>reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in</p><p>the world. It's nice to be able to go outside in the day. You wouldn't believe how</p><p>tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years."</p><p>"So that's where the legends came from?"</p><p>"Probably."</p><p>"And Alice came from another family, like Jasper?"</p><p>"No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn't remember her human life at all. And she</p><p>doesn't know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked</p><p>away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If she hadn't had that</p><p>other sense, if she hadn't seen Jasper and Carlisle and known that she would</p><p>someday become one of us, she probably would have turned into a total savage."</p><p>There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But, to my</p><p>great embarrassment, my stomach growled. I'd been so intrigued, I hadn't even</p><p>noticed I was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous.</p><p>"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner."</p><p>"I'm fine, really."</p><p>"I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget."</p><p>"I want to stay with you." It was easier to say in the darkness, knowing as I</p><p>spoke how my voice would betray me, my hopeless addiction to him.</p><p>"Can't I come in?" he asked.</p><p>"Would you like to?" I couldn't picture it, this godlike creature sitting in my</p><p>father's shabby kitchen chair.</p><p>"Yes, if it's all right." I heard the door close quietly, and almost simultaneously</p><p>he was outside my door, opening it for me.</p><p>"Very human," I complimented him.</p><p>"It's definitely resurfacing."</p><p>He walked beside me in the night, so quietly I had to peek at him constantly to</p><p>be sure he was still there. In the darkness he looked much more normal. Still</p><p>pale, still dreamlike in his beauty, but no longer the fantastic sparkling creature</p><p>of our sunlit afternoon.</p><p>He reached the door ahead of me and opened it for me. I paused halfway through</p><p>the frame.</p><p>"The door was unlocked?"</p><p>"No, I used the key from under the eave."</p><p>I stepped inside, flicked on the porch light, and turned to look at him with my</p><p>eyebrows raised. I was sure I'd never used that key in front of him.</p><p>"I was curious about you."</p><p>"You spied on me?" But somehow I couldn't infuse my voice with the proper</p><p>outrage. I was flattered.</p><p>He was unrepentant. "What else is there to do at night?"</p><p>I let it go for the moment and went down the hall to the kitchen. He was there</p><p>before me, needing no guide. He sat in the very chair I'd tried to picture him in.</p><p>His beauty lit up the kitchen. It was a moment before I could look away.</p><p>I concentrated on getting my dinner, taking last night's lasagna from the fridge,</p><p>placing a square on a plate, heating it in the microwave. It revolved, filling the</p><p>kitchen with the smell of tomatoes and oregano. I didn't take my eyes from the</p><p>plate of food as I spoke.</p><p>"How often?" I asked casually.</p><p>"Hmmm?" He sounded as if I had pulled him from some other train of thought.</p><p>I still didn't turn around. "How often did you come here?"</p><p>"I come here almost every night."</p><p>I whirled, stunned. "Why?"</p><p>"You're interesting when you sleep." He spoke matter-of-factly. "You talk."</p><p>"No!" I gasped, heat flooding my face all the way to my hairline. I gripped the</p><p>kitchen counter for support. I knew I talked in my sleep, of course; my mother</p><p>teased me about it. I hadn't thought it was something I needed to worry about</p><p>here, though.</p><p>His expression shifted instantly to chagrin. "Are you very angry with me?"</p><p>"That depends!" I felt and sounded like I'd had the breath knocked out of me.</p><p>He waited.</p><p>"On?" he urged.</p><p>"What you heard!" I wailed.</p><p>Instantly, silently, he was at my side, taking my hands carefully in his.</p><p>"Don't be upset!" he pleaded. He dropped his face to the level of my eyes,</p><p>holding my gaze. I was embarrassed. I tried to look away.</p><p>"You miss your mother," he whispered. "You worry about her. And when it</p><p>rains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it's</p><p>less often now. Once you said, 'It's too green.'" He laughed softly, hoping, I</p><p>could see, not to offend me further.</p><p>"Anything else?" I demanded.</p><p>He knew what I was getting at. "You did say my name," he admitted.</p><p>I sighed in defeat. "A lot?"</p><p>"How much do you mean by 'a lot,' exactly?"</p><p>"Oh no!" I hung my head.</p><p>He pulled me against his chest, softly, naturally.</p><p>"Don't be self-conscious," he whispered in my ear. "If I could dream at all, it</p><p>would be about you. And I'm not ashamed of it."</p><p>Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw the headlights</p><p>flash through the front windows, down the hall to us. I stiffened in his arms.</p><p>"Should your father know I'm here?" he asked.</p><p>"I'm not sure…" I tried to think it through quickly.</p><p>"Another time then…"</p><p>And I was alone.</p><p>"Edward!" I hissed.</p><p>I heard a ghostly chuckle, then nothing else.</p><p>My father's key turned in the door.</p><p>"Bella?" he called. It had bothered me before; who else would it be? Suddenly he</p><p>didn't seem so far off base.</p><p>"In here." I hoped he couldn't hear the hysterical edge to my voice. I grabbed my</p><p>dinner from the microwave and sat at the table as he walked in. His footsteps</p><p>sounded so noisy after my day with Edward.</p><p>"Can you get me some of that? I'm bushed." He stepped on the heels of his boots</p><p>to take them off, holding the back of Edward's chair for support.</p><p>I took my food with me, scarfing it down as I got his dinner. It burned my</p><p>tongue. I filled two glasses with milk while his lasagna was heating, and gulped</p><p>mine to put out the fire. As I set the glass down, I noticed the milk trembling and</p><p>realized my hand was shaking. Charlie sat in the chair, and the contrast between</p><p>him and its former occupant was comical.</p><p>"Thanks," he said as I placed his food on the table.</p><p>"How was your day?" I asked. The words were rushed; I was dying to escape to</p><p>my room.</p><p>"Good. The fish were biting… how about you? Did you get everything done that</p><p>you wanted to?"</p><p>"Not really — it was too nice out to stay indoors." I took another big bite.</p><p>"It was a nice day," he agreed. What an understatement, I thought to myself.</p><p>Finished with the last bite of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged the remains</p><p>of my milk.</p><p>Charlie surprised me by being observant. "In a hurry?"</p><p>"Yeah, I'm tired. I'm going to bed early."</p><p>"You look kinda keyed up," he noted. Why, oh why, did this have to be his night</p><p>to pay attention?</p><p>"Do I?" was all I could manage in response. I quickly scrubbed my dishes clean</p><p>in the sink, and placed them upside down on a dish towel to dry.</p><p>"It's Saturday," he mused.</p><p>I didn't respond.</p><p>"No plans tonight?" he asked suddenly.</p><p>"No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep."</p><p>"None of the boys in town your type, eh?" He was suspicious, but trying to play</p><p>it cool.</p><p>"No, none of the boys have caught my eye yet." I was careful not to over-</p><p>emphasize the word boys in my quest to be truthful with Charlie.</p><p>"I thought maybe that Mike Newton… you said he was friendly."</p><p>"He's Just a friend, Dad."</p><p>"Well, you're too good for them all, anyway. Wait till you get to college to start</p><p>looking." Every father's dream, that his daughter will be out of the house before</p><p>the hormones kick in.</p><p>"Sounds like a good idea to me," I agreed as I headed up the stairs.</p><p>"'Night, honey," he called after me. No doubt he would be listening carefully all</p><p>evening, waiting for me to try to sneak out.</p><p>"See you in the morning, Dad." See you creeping into my room tonight at</p><p>midnight to check on me.</p><p>I worked to make my tread sound slow and tired as I walked up the stairs to my</p><p>room. I shut the door loud enough for him to hear, and then sprinted on my</p><p>tiptoes to the window. I threw it open and leaned out into the night. My eyes</p><p>scanned the darkness, the impenetrable shadows of the trees.</p><p>"Edward?" I whispered, feeling completely idiotic.</p><p>The quiet, laughing response came from behind me. "Yes?"</p><p>I whirled, one hand flying to my throat in surprise.</p><p>He lay, smiling hugely,</p><p>too</p><p>well to think I would really have the guts to do it. I made the Cowardly Lion</p><p>look like the terminator.</p><p>But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica — trying to keep my eyes from</p><p>sweeping the place for him, and failing entirely — I saw that his four siblings of</p><p>sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them.</p><p>Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the</p><p>attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy</p><p>chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment he</p><p>would arrive. I hoped that he would simply ignore me when he came, and prove</p><p>my suspicions false.</p><p>He didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense.</p><p>I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, he still</p><p>hadn't showed. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever,</p><p>walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at the door, but Edward</p><p>Cullen wasn't there, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed,</p><p>talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk till the bell</p><p>rang. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a girl with braces and a</p><p>bad perm. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Mike, and it</p><p>wouldn't be easy. In a town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone</p><p>else, diplomacy was essential. I had never been enormously tactful; I had no</p><p>practice dealing with overly friendly boys.</p><p>I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Edward was absent. I told</p><p>myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was</p><p>the reason he wasn't there. It was ridiculous, and egotistical, to think that I could</p><p>affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying</p><p>that it was true.</p><p>When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of my</p><p>cheeks from the volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into my jeans and</p><p>navy blue sweater. I hurried from the girls' locker room, pleased to find that I</p><p>had successfully evaded my retriever friend for the moment. I walked swiftly out</p><p>to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in my truck</p><p>and dug through my bag to make sure I had what I needed.</p><p>Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and</p><p>bacon. So I requested that I be assigned kitchen detail for the duration of my</p><p>stay. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall. I also</p><p>found out that he had no food in the house. So I had my shopping list and the</p><p>cash from the jar in the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was on my way</p><p>to the Thriftway.</p><p>I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my</p><p>direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting</p><p>to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble</p><p>was coming from someone else's car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins</p><p>getting into their car. It was the shiny new Volvo. Of course. I hadn't noticed</p><p>their clothes before — I'd been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that I</p><p>looked, it was obvious that they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but</p><p>in clothes that subtly hinted at designer origins. With their remarkable good</p><p>looks, the style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn</p><p>dishrags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have both looks and</p><p>money. But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn't</p><p>look as if it bought them any acceptance here.</p><p>No, I didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be their desire; I couldn't</p><p>imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty.</p><p>They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept</p><p>my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school</p><p>grounds.</p><p>The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the</p><p>highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. I did the</p><p>shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store</p><p>was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to</p><p>remind me where I was.</p><p>When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could</p><p>find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil</p><p>and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it</p><p>on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.</p><p>When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my</p><p>homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair up into a</p><p>pony-tail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had three messages.</p><p>"Bella," my mom wrote…</p><p>Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining?</p><p>I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find</p><p>my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom.</p><p>I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.</p><p>"Bella," she wrote…</p><p>Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom.</p><p>The last was from this morning.</p><p>Isabella,</p><p>If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie.</p><p>I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for</p><p>jumping the gun.</p><p>Mom,</p><p>Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash.</p><p>Bella.</p><p>I sent that, and began again.</p><p>Mom,</p><p>Everything is great. Of course it's raining. I was waiting for something to</p><p>write about. School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I met some nice kids</p><p>who sit by me at lunch.</p><p>Your blouse is at the dry cleaners - you were supposed to pick it up</p><p>Friday.</p><p>Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, but really</p><p>sturdy, which is good, you know, for me.</p><p>I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check my e-mail</p><p>every five minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you.</p><p>Bella.</p><p>I had decided to read Wuthering Heights — the novel we were currently</p><p>studying in English — yet again for the fun of it, and that's what I was doing</p><p>when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to</p><p>take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.</p><p>"Bella?" my father called out when he heard me on the stairs.</p><p>Who else? I thought to myself.</p><p>"Hey, Dad, welcome home."</p><p>"Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled</p><p>about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gun on the job. But</p><p>he kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he would always remove the</p><p>bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough</p><p>now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself</p><p>on purpose.</p><p>"What's for dinner?" he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook, and</p><p>her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed</p><p>to remember that far back.</p><p>"Steak and potatoes," I answered, and he looked relieved.</p><p>He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered</p><p>into the living room to watch TV while I worked. We were both more</p><p>comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table.</p><p>I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he</p><p>walked into the room.</p><p>"Smells good, Bell."</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of us was</p><p>bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited for living together.</p><p>"So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?" he asked as he was</p><p>taking seconds.</p><p>"Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at</p><p>lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's very friendly. Everybody seems pretty</p><p>nice." With one outstanding exception.</p><p>"That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid</p><p>— nice family. His dad owns the sporting</p><p>goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers</p><p>who come through here."</p><p>"Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked hesitantly.</p><p>"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man."</p><p>"They… the kids… are a little different. They don't seem to fit in very well at</p><p>school."</p><p>Charlie surprised me by looking angry.</p><p>"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could</p><p>probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets</p><p>here," he continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to have him — lucky that his</p><p>wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all of</p><p>those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved</p><p>in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems</p><p>with them. But they're all very mature — I haven't had one speck of trouble from</p><p>any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have</p><p>lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family</p><p>should — camping trips every other weekend… Just because they're newcomers,</p><p>people have to talk."</p><p>It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly</p><p>about whatever people were saying.</p><p>I backpedaled. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept to</p><p>themselves. They're all very attractive," I added, trying to be more</p><p>complimentary.</p><p>"You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a good thing he's</p><p>happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time</p><p>concentrating on their work with him around."</p><p>We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. He cleared the table while I</p><p>started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the</p><p>dishes by hand — no dishwasher — I went upstairs unwillingly to work on my</p><p>math homework. I could feel a tradition in the making.</p><p>That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted.</p><p>The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By</p><p>Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In</p><p>Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in</p><p>front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily</p><p>stayed out of their way.</p><p>Edward Cullen didn't come back to school.</p><p>Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria</p><p>without him. Then I could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it</p><p>centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was</p><p>putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more out of politeness</p><p>than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry.</p><p>By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer</p><p>worried that Edward would be there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of</p><p>school. I tried not to think about him, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry</p><p>that I was responsible for his continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed.</p><p>My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused to spending</p><p>time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. I cleaned the</p><p>house, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my mom more bogusly cheerful e-</p><p>mail. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't</p><p>bother to get a card; I would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon</p><p>and find a good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck</p><p>got… and shuddered at the thought.</p><p>The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well.</p><p>People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know all their</p><p>names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but</p><p>happily not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We</p><p>had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, very easy.</p><p>All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by</p><p>this point. More comfortable than I had ever expected to feel here.</p><p>When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could</p><p>hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at my cheeks, my</p><p>nose.</p><p>"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing."</p><p>I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and</p><p>swirling erratically past my face.</p><p>"Ew." Snow. There went my good day.</p><p>He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?"</p><p>"No. That means it's too cold for rain." Obviously. "Besides, I thought it was</p><p>supposed to come down in flakes — you know, each one unique and all that.</p><p>These just look like the ends of Q-tips."</p><p>"Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" he asked incredulously.</p><p>"Sure I have." I paused. "On TV."</p><p>Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the</p><p>back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions</p><p>about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us — in the wrong direction</p><p>for his next class. Mike appatently had the same notion. He bent over and began</p><p>scraping together a pile of the white mush.</p><p>"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Once people start</p><p>throwing wet stuff, I go inside."</p><p>He just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure.</p><p>Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow;</p><p>apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. Sure,</p><p>it was drier than rain — until it melted in your socks.</p><p>I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush balls were</p><p>flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if</p><p>necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in my expression kept</p><p>her from lobbing a snowball at me herself.</p><p>Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the</p><p>spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight</p><p>as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that table in the corner out of</p><p>habit. And then I froze where I stood. There were five people at the table.</p><p>Jessica pulled on my arm.</p><p>"Hello? Bella? What do you want?"</p><p>I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I</p><p>reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.</p><p>"What's with Bella?" Mike asked Jessica.</p><p>"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to the end of the</p><p>line.</p><p>"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked.</p><p>"Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor.</p><p>I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes on</p><p>my feet.</p><p>I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, with</p><p>unnecessary concern, how I was feeling.</p><p>I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it up and escape</p><p>to the nurse's office for the next hour.</p><p>Ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.</p><p>I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table. If he was</p><p>glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was.</p><p>I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them were</p><p>looking this way. I lifted my head a little.</p><p>They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely</p><p>saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett</p><p>shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just</p><p>like everyone else — only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the</p><p>rest of us.</p><p>But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and</p><p>I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Edward the most</p><p>carefully. His skin was less pale, I decided — flushed from the snow fight</p><p>maybe — the circles under his eyes much less noticeable. But there was</p><p>something more. I pondered, staring, trying to isolate the change.</p><p>"Bella, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her</p><p>eyes following my stare.</p><p>At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine.</p><p>I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was sure, though, in</p><p>the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last</p><p>time I'd seen him. He looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.</p><p>"Edward Cullen is staring at you," Jessica giggled in my ear.</p><p>"He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help asking.</p><p>"No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should he be?"</p><p>"I don't think he likes me," I confided. I still felt queasy. I put my head down on</p><p>my arm.</p><p>"The Cullens don't like anybody… well, they don't notice anybody enough to</p><p>like them. But he's still staring at you."</p><p>"Stop looking at him," I hissed.</p><p>She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that</p><p>she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.</p><p>Mike interrupted us then — he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the</p><p>parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed enthusiastically.</p><p>The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that she would be up for anything he</p><p>suggested. I kept silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the parking lot</p><p>cleared.</p><p>For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I</p><p>decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since he didn't look angry, I</p><p>would go to Biology. My stomach did frightened little flips at the thought of</p><p>sitting next to him again.</p><p>I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual — he seemed to be a</p><p>popular target for the snowball snipers — but when we went to the door,</p><p>everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the</p><p>snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. I pulled my hood</p><p>up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after Gym.</p><p>Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.</p><p>Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty. Mr.</p><p>Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of</p><p>slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed</p><p>with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the</p><p>cover of my notebook.</p><p>I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed</p><p>carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing.</p><p>"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.</p><p>I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was sitting as far away from</p><p>me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His hair was</p><p>dripping wet, disheveled — even so, he looked like he'd just finished shooting a</p><p>commercial for hair gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on</p><p>his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful.</p><p>"My name is Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce</p><p>myself last week. You must be Bella Swan."</p><p>My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? He was</p><p>perfectly polite now. I had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn't think of</p><p>anything conventional to say.</p><p>"H-how do you know my name?" I stammered.</p><p>He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh.</p><p>"Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you</p><p>to arrive."</p><p>I grimaced. I knew it was something like that.</p><p>"No," I persisted stupidly. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"</p><p>He seemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?"</p><p>"No, I like Bella," I said. "But I think Charlie — I mean my dad — must call me</p><p>Isabella behind my back — that's what everyone here seems to know me as," I</p><p>tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron.</p><p>"Oh." He let it drop. I looked away awkwardly.</p><p>Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as he</p><p>explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of</p><p>order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip</p><p>cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We</p><p>weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming</p><p>around to see who had it right.</p><p>"Get started," he commanded.</p><p>"Ladies first, partner?" Edward asked. I looked up to see him smiling a crooked</p><p>smile so beautiful that I could only stare at him like an idiot.</p><p>"Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; he was obviously wondering if I</p><p>was mentally competent.</p><p>"No," I said, flushing. "I'll go ahead."</p><p>I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab, and I knew what I was</p><p>looking for. It should be easy. I snapped the first slide into place under the</p><p>microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide</p><p>briefly.</p><p>My assessment was confident. "Prophase."</p><p>"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I began to remove the slide. His hand</p><p>caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold, like he'd been</p><p>holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand</p><p>away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current</p><p>had passed through us.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, he</p><p>continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, still staggered, as he</p><p>examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had.</p><p>"Prophase," he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet. He</p><p>swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glanced at it cursorily.</p><p>"Anaphase," he murmured, writing it down as he spoke.</p><p>I kept my voice indifferent. "May I?"</p><p>He smirked and pushed the microscope to me.</p><p>I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Dang it, he was</p><p>right.</p><p>"Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at him.</p><p>He handed it to me; it seemed like he was being careful not to touch my skin</p><p>again.</p><p>I took the most fleeting look I could manage.</p><p>"Interphase." I passed him the microscope before he could ask for it. He took a</p><p>swift peek, and then wrote it down. I would have written it while he looked, but</p><p>his clear, elegant script intimidated me. I didn't want to spoil the page with my</p><p>clumsy scrawl.</p><p>We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner</p><p>comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their book open</p><p>under the table.</p><p>Which left me with nothing to do but try to not look at him… unsuccessfully. I</p><p>glanced up, and he was staring at me, that same inexplicable look of frustration</p><p>in his eyes. Suddenly I identified that subtle difference in his face.</p><p>"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly.</p><p>He seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. "No."</p><p>"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes."</p><p>He shrugged, and looked away.</p><p>In fact, I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat</p><p>black color of his eyes the last time he'd glared at me — the color was striking</p><p>against the background of his pale skin and his auburn hair. Today, his eyes were</p><p>a completely different color: a strange ocher, darker than butterscotch, but with</p><p>the same golden tone. I didn't understand how that could be, unless he was lying</p><p>for some reason about the contacts. Or maybe Forks was making me crazy in the</p><p>literal sense of the word.</p><p>I looked down. His hands were clenched into hard fists again.</p><p>Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. He looked</p><p>over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently</p><p>to check the answers.</p><p>"So, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the</p><p>microscope?" Mr. Banner asked.</p><p>"Bella," Edward corrected automatically. "Actually, she identified three of the</p><p>five."</p><p>Mr. Banner looked at me now; his expression was skeptical.</p><p>"Have you done this lab before?" he asked.</p><p>I smiled sheepishly. "Not with onion root."</p><p>"Whitefish blastula?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Well," he said</p><p>after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He</p><p>mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, I began doodling on</p><p>my notebook again.</p><p>"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edward asked. I had the feeling that he</p><p>was forcing himself to make small talk with me. Paranoia swept over me again.</p><p>It was like he had heard my conversation with Jessica at lunch and was trying to</p><p>prove me wrong.</p><p>"Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like</p><p>everyone else. I was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling of suspicion, and I</p><p>couldn't concentrate.</p><p>"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question.</p><p>"Or the wet."</p><p>"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused.</p><p>"You have no idea," I muttered darkly.</p><p>He looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine. His face</p><p>was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any more than courtesy</p><p>absolutely demanded.</p><p>"Why did you come here, then?"</p><p>No one had asked me that — not straight out like he did, demanding.</p><p>"It's… complicated."</p><p>"I think I can keep up," he pressed.</p><p>I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His</p><p>dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking.</p><p>"My mother got remarried," I said.</p><p>"That doesn't sound so complex," he disagreed, but he was suddenly</p><p>sympathetic. "When did that happen?"</p><p>"Last September." My voice sounded sad, even to me.</p><p>"And you don't like him," Edward surmised, his tone still kind.</p><p>"No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough."</p><p>"Why didn't you stay with them?"</p><p>I couldn't fathom his interest, but he continued to stare at me with penetrating</p><p>eyes, as if my dull life's story was somehow vitally important.</p><p>"Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living." I half-smiled.</p><p>"Have I heard of him?" he asked, smiling in response.</p><p>"Probably not. He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He moves around a</p><p>lot."</p><p>"And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." He said it as</p><p>an assumption again, not a question.</p><p>My chin raised a fraction. "No, she did not send me here. I sent myself."</p><p>His eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," he admitted, and he seemed</p><p>unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.</p><p>I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him? He continued to stare at me with</p><p>obvious curiosity.</p><p>"She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… so I</p><p>decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie." My voice was</p><p>glum by the time I finished.</p><p>"But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.</p><p>"And?" I challenged.</p><p>"That doesn't seem fair." He shrugged, but his eyes were still intense.</p><p>I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair."</p><p>"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," he agreed dryly.</p><p>"So that's all," I insisted, wondering why he was still staring at me that way.</p><p>His gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," he said slowly. "But I'd</p><p>be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."</p><p>I grimaced at him, resisting the impulse to stick out my tongue like a five-year-</p><p>old, and looked away.</p><p>"Am I wrong?"</p><p>I tried to ignore him.</p><p>"I didn't think so," he murmured smugly.</p><p>"Why does it matter to you?" I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away, watching</p><p>the teacher make his rounds.</p><p>"That's a very good question," he muttered, so quietly that I wondered if he was</p><p>talking to himself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was</p><p>the only answer I was going to get.</p><p>I sighed, scowling at the blackboard.</p><p>"Am I annoying you?" he asked. He sounded amused.</p><p>I glanced at him without thinking… and told the truth again. "Not exactly. I'm</p><p>more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read — my mother always calls</p><p>me her open book." I frowned.</p><p>"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that I'd</p><p>said and he'd guessed, he sounded like he meant it.</p><p>"You must be a good reader then," I replied.</p><p>"Usually." He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite teeth.</p><p>Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relief to listen. I was</p><p>in disbelief that I'd just explained my dreary life to this bizarre, beautiful boy</p><p>who may or may not despise me. He'd seemed engrossed in our conversation,</p><p>but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that he was leaning away from</p><p>me again, his hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension.</p><p>I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the</p><p>overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty through the microscope.</p><p>But my thoughts were unmanageable.</p><p>When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the</p><p>room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after him in</p><p>amazement.</p><p>Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imagined</p><p>him with a wagging tail.</p><p>"That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky</p><p>you had Cullen for a partner."</p><p>"I didn't have any trouble with it," I said, stung by his assumption. I regretted the</p><p>snub instantly. "I've done the lab before, though," I added before he could get his</p><p>feelings hurt.</p><p>"Cullen seemed friendly enough today," he commented as we shrugged into our</p><p>raincoats. He didn't seem pleased about it.</p><p>I tried to sound indifferent. "I wonder what was with him last Monday."</p><p>I couldn't concentrate on Mike's chatter as we walked to Gym, and RE. didn't do</p><p>much to hold my attention, either. Mike was on my team today. He chivalrously</p><p>covered my position as well as his own, so my woolgathering was only</p><p>interrupted when it was my turn to serve; my team ducked warily out of the way</p><p>every time I was up.</p><p>The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I</p><p>was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-</p><p>numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and</p><p>fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could dry it on the way home.</p><p>I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed the still,</p><p>white figure. Edward Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo,</p><p>three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked</p><p>away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in</p><p>my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the brake in time. It was just the</p><p>sort of car that my truck would make scrap metal of. I took a deep breath, still</p><p>looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with</p><p>greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a</p><p>peripheral peek, I would swear I saw him laughing.</p><p>3. PHENOMENON</p><p>When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different.</p><p>It was the light. It was still the gray-green light of a cloudy day in the forest, but</p><p>it was clearer somehow. I realized there was no fog veiling my window.</p><p>I jumped up to look outside, and then groaned in horror.</p><p>A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened</p><p>the road. But that wasn't the worst part. All the rain from yesterday had frozen</p><p>solid — coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and</p><p>making the driveway a deadly ice slick. I had enough trouble not falling down</p><p>when the ground was dry; it might be safer for me to go back to bed now.</p><p>Charlie had left for work before I got downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with</p><p>Charlie was like having my own place, and I found myself reveling in the</p><p>aloneness instead of being lonely.</p><p>I threw down a quick bowl of cereal and some orange juice from the carton. I felt</p><p>excited to go to school, and that scared me. I knew it wasn't the stimulating</p><p>learning environment I was anticipating, or seeing my new set of friends. If I</p><p>was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school because I</p><p>would see Edward Cullen. And that</p>