Twilight Still Matters 20 Years Later | Stephenie Meyer | Video Book

Twilight Still Matters 20 Years Later | Stephenie Meyer | Video Book

Welcome to my channel! Dive into Twilight
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Keep going, and soon you’ll conquer book a day. Boost your English reading now! Twilight by Stephenie Meyer. For my big
sister, Emily, without whose enthusiasm this be
story might still unfinished. “But of the tree of the knowledge of good
and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day
that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die” Genesis 2:17. PREFACE I’D never given much thought to how i I’d
would die—though had reason enough in the last few months—but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this. I stared without breathing across the
long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me. Surely it was a good way to die, in the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought
to count for something. I knew that if I’d never gone to Forks, I wouldn’t be facing death now. But, terrified as I was, I couldn’t bring
myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far any
beyond of your expectations, it’s not reasonable to grieve when it to
comes an end. The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he
sauntered forward to kill me. CHAPTER 1 FIRST SIGHT. summary, bella moves to
forks, twilight bella swan first day, twilight
new school, twilight beginning explained. Bella for
leaves Arizona rainy Forks, starting a new life in Twilight speed
reading saga. My mother drove me to the airport with
the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt—
sleeveless, white eyelet lace; I was wearing it as a
farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a parka. In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest
Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a
near- constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town any
more than other place in the United States of America. It was from this town and its
gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped
with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I’d been to a
compelled spend month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I put
finally my foot down; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with
me in California for two weeks instead. It was to Forks that I now exiled action
myself—an that I took with great horror. I detested Forks. I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city. “Bella,” my mom said to me—the last of a
thousand times—before I got on the plane. “You don’t have to do this.” My mom looks like me, except with short
hair and laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at
her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my
loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for
herself? Of course she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when
she got lost, but still… “I want to go,” I lied. I’d always been a bad liar, but I’d been saying this lie so lately it
frequently that sounded almost convincing now. “Tell Charlie I said hi.” “I will.” “I’ll see you soon,” she insisted. “You can come home whenever you want—I’ll
come right back as soon as you need me.” But I could see the sacrifice in her eyes
behind the promise. “Don’t worry about me,” I urged. “It’ll be great. I love you, Mom.” She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was gone. It’s a four-hour flight
from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port
Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn’t bother me; the hour in the
car with Charlie, though, I was a little worried about. Charlie had really been fairly nice about
the whole thing. He seemed genuinely pleased that I was to
coming live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He’d me
already gotten registered for high school and was going to help me get a car. But it was sure to be awkward with
Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone would call
verbose, and I didn’t know what there was to say
regardless. I knew he was more than a little confused
by my decision— like my mother before me, I hadn’t made a secret of my distaste
for Forks. When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn’t see it as an
omen—just unavoidable. I’d already said my goodbyes to the sun. Charlie was waiting for me with the
cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is to
Police Chief Swan the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven around in
town a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic
like a cop. Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug
when I stumbled my way off the plane. “It’s good to see you, Bells,” he said, smiling as he automatically and
caught steadied me. “You haven’t changed much. How’s Renée?” “Mom’s fine. It’s good to see you, too, Dad.” I wasn’t allowed to call him
Charlie to his face. I had only a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes were too for
permeable Washington. My mom and I had pooled our resources to
supplement my winter wardrobe, but it was still scanty. It all fit into
easily the trunk of the cruiser. “I found a good car for you, really cheap,” he announced when we were
strapped in. “What kind of car?” I was suspicious of
the way he said “good car for you” as opposed to just “good car.” “Well, it’s a truck actually, a Chevy.” “Where did you find it?” “Do you remember
Billy Black down at La Push?” La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on
the coast. “No.” “He used to go fishing with us the
during summer,” Charlie prompted. That would explain why
I didn’t remember him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory. “He’s
in a wheelchair now,” Charlie continued when I didn’t respond, “so he can’t drive anymore, and he to me
offered sell his truck cheap.” “What year is it?” I could see from his
change of expression that this was the question he was hoping I wouldn’t ask. “Well, Billy’s done a lot of work on the
engine—it’s only a few years old, really.” I hoped he didn’t think so of me
little as to believe I would give up that easily. “When did he buy it?” “He bought it in 1984, I think.” “Did he buy it new?” “Well, no. I think it was new in the early late
sixties—or fifties at the earliest,” he admitted sheepishly. “Ch—Dad, I don’t
really know anything about cars. I wouldn’t be able to fix it if anything
went wrong, and I couldn’t afford a mechanic….” “Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don’t build them like that anymore.” The thing, I thought to myself… it had possibilities —as a nickname, at the very least. “How cheap is cheap?” After all, that was the part I couldn’t
compromise on. “Well, honey, I kind of already bought it
for you. As a homecoming gift.” Charlie peeked at
sideways me with a hopeful expression. Wow. Free. “You didn’t need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car.” “I don’t mind. I want you to be happy
here.” He was looking ahead at the road when he
said this. Charlie wasn’t comfortable with his out
expressing emotions loud. I inherited that from him. So I was ahead
looking straight as I responded. “That’s really nice, Dad. Thanks. I it.”
really appreciate No need to add that my being happy in is
Forks an impossibility. He didn’t need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a free truck in the
mouth—or engine. “Well, now, you’re welcome,” he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks. We exchanged a
few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much
it for conversation. We stared out the windows in silence. It was beautiful, of course; I couldn’t
deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their
trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of
it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the
air filtered down greenly through the leaves. It was too green—an alien planet. Eventually we made it to Charlie’s. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he’d bought with
my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their
marriage had—the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of
the house that never changed, was my new—well, new to me—truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous
cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. I didn’t know if it would run, but I could see myself in it. Plus, it was one of those solid iron that
affairs never gets damaged—the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the of
pieces the foreign car it had destroyed. “Wow, Dad, I love it! Thanks!” Now my horrific day tomorrow would be
just that much less dreadful. I wouldn’t be faced with the choice of in
either walking two miles the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief’s
cruiser. “I’m glad you like it,” Charlie said
gruffly, embarrassed again. It took only one trip
to get all my stuff upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out the
over front yard. The room was familiar; it had belonged to
me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace the
curtains around window—these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had a
ever made were switching the crib for bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled
along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair from my baby days was
still in the corner. There was only one small bathroom at the
top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on
that fact. One of the best things about Charlie is
he doesn’t hover. He left me alone to unpack and get
settled, a feat that would have been altogether my
impossible for mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a
relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few
tears escape. I wasn’t in the mood to go on a real jag.
crying I would save that for bedtime, when I would have to think about the
coming morning. Forks High School had a frightening total
of only three hundred and fifty-seven— now fifty-eight— students; there were more than seven hundred people
in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up their
together— grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak. Maybe, if I looked
like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I’d never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond—a player,
volleyball or a cheerleader, perhaps—all the things
that go with living in the valley of the sun. Instead, I was ivory- skinned, without of
even the excuse blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had been
always slender, but soft somehow, obviously not an I have
athlete; didn’t the necessary hand-eye coordination to play sports without humiliating myself—and and
harming both myself anyone else who stood too close. When I finished putting my clothes in the
old pine dresser, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and
went to the communal bathroom to clean myself up after the day of travel. I looked at my face in the mirror as I my
brushed through tangled, damp hair. Maybe it was the light, but already I looked sallower, unhealthy. My skin could be pretty—it was very clear, almost translucent- looking—but it all on
depended color. I had no color here. Facing my pallid in
reflection the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to
myself. It wasn’t just physically that I’d never
fit in. And if I couldn’t find a niche in a with
school three thousand people, what were my chances here? I didn’t well
relate to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn’t relate
well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer
to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the
same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn’t matter. All that was
mattered the effect. And tomorrow would be just the beginning. I didn’t sleep well that night, even after I was done crying. The constant whooshing of the rain and
wind across the roof wouldn’t fade into the background. I pulled the faded old quilt over my head, and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn’t fall asleep until after
midnight, when the rain finally settled into a
quieter drizzle. Thick fog was all I could see out my in
window the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia up on
creeping me. You could never see the sky here; it was
like a cage. Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was
wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me. Charlie left first, off to the police was
station that his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square in
oak table one of the three unmatching chairs and examined his small
kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright
yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was
changed. My mother had painted the cabinets years
eighteen ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace
in the adjoining handkerchief -sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture
of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the after
hospital I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the
procession of my school pictures up to last year’s. Those were embarrassing to look I
at—I would have to see what could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never my
gotten over mom. It made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want
to be too early to school, but I couldn’t stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket—which had the feel of
a biohazard suit—and headed out into the rain. It was just drizzling still, not enough I
to soak me through immediately as reached for the house key that was always hidden the
under eave by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new was
waterproof boots unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I
walked. I couldn’t pause and admire my truck as I
again wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled
around my head and clung to my hair under my hood. Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or had
Charlie obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still of
smelled faintly tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine
started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life
and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have
a flaw. The antique radio worked, a plus that I
hadn’t expected. Finding the school wasn’t difficult, I’d
though never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious
that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High
School, made me stop. It looked like a collection
of matching houses, built with maroon- colored bricks. There
were so many trees and shrubs I couldn’t see its size at first. Where was the feel of the
institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the I
metal detectors? parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door
reading FRONT OFFICE. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions of
inside instead circling around in the rain like an idiot. I stepped unwillingly out of a
the toasty truck cab and walked down little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the
door. Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer
than I’d hoped. The office was small; a little waiting
area with padded folding chairs, orange- flecked commercial carpet, and
notices awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew
everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn’t enough greenery
outside. The room was cut in half by a long
counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of and
papers brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was
wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel
overdressed. The red-haired woman looked up. “Can I
help you?” “I’m Isabella Swan,” I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her
eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no
doubt. Daughter of the Chief’s flighty ex-wife, come home at last. “Of course,” she said. She dug through a precariously
stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. “I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school.” She brought several sheets to the counter
to show me. She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on
the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher
sign, which I was to bring back at the end of
the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here
in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could. When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the
line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars
were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I’d lived in one
of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a
common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. The nicest a
car here was shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine
as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume draw
wouldn’t attention to me. I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I to
wouldn’t have walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. No one was going to bite me. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the
truck. I kept my face pulled back into my hood I
as walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black
jacket didn’t stand out, I noticed with relief. Once I got around
the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black “3” was painted on a white
square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping as
toward hyperventilation I approached the door. I tried holding my breath as I followed
two unisex raincoats through the door. The classroom was small. The people in of
front me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of
hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain- colored blonde, the also
other pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin a
wouldn’t be standout here. I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a him
nameplate identifying as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my an
name—not encouraging response—and of course I flushed tomato red. But at least he sent
me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to at
stare me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes
down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Brontë, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I’d read
already everything. That was comforting… and boring. I if
wondered my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that
was cheating. I went through different arguments with
her in my head while the teacher droned on. When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair
black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me. “You’re Isabella
Swan, aren’t you?” He looked like the overly
helpful, chess club type. “Bella,” I corrected. Everyone within a three-seat radius to at
turned look me. “Where’s your next class?” he asked. I had to check in my bag. “Um, Government, with Jefferson, in six.”
building There was nowhere to look without meeting
curious eyes. “I’m headed toward building four, I could
show you the way….” Definitely over- helpful. “I’m Eric,” he
added. I smiled tentatively. “Thanks.” We got
our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn
several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn’t getting
paranoid. “So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?” he asked. “Very.” “It doesn’t rain
much there, does it?” “Three or four times a year.” “Wow, what must that be like?” he wondered. “Sunny,” I told him. “You don’t look very tan.” “My mother is
part albino.” He studied my face apprehensively, and I
sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of mix.
humor didn’t A few months of this and I’d forget how
to use sarcasm. We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked. “Well, good luck,” he said as I touched the
handle. “Maybe we’ll have some other classes
together.” He sounded hopeful. I smiled at him and
vaguely went inside. The rest of the morning passed in about
the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who
I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me
stand in front of the class and introduce myself. I stammered, blushed,
and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat. After two classes, I started to of
recognize several the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the
others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I a
just lied lot. At least I never needed the map. One girl sat next to me in both Trig and
Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria
for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than
my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a
lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn’t remember her name, so I smiled
and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. I didn’t try to keep up. We sat at the end of a full table with of
several her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all as
their names soon as she spoke them. They seemed impressed by her bravery in
speaking to me. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me
from across the room. It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven
curious strangers, that I first saw them. They were sitting
in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible
in the long room. There were five of them. They weren’t
talking, and they weren’t eating, though they each
had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They weren’t gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without
fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things
that caught, and held, my attention. They didn’t look
anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big—muscled a
like serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey
blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze- colored hair. He was
more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than
students. The girls were opposites. The tall one
was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you
saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every
girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the
middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the
extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep
black, cropped short and pointing in every
direction. And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in
this sunless town. Paler than me, the albino. They all had
very dark eyes despite the range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under
those eyes— purplish, bruiselike shadows. As if they were all a
suffering from sleepless night, or almost done recovering from a broken
nose. Though their noses, all their features, were straight, perfect, angular. But all
this is not why I couldn’t look away. I stared because their faces, so
different, so similar, were all devastatingly,
inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see
except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. Or painted by an old as
master the face of an angel. It was hard to decide who was the most
beautiful— maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze- haired boy. They were all
looking away—away from each other, away from the other students, away from I
anything in particular as far as could tell. As I watched, the small girl rose with
her tray— unopened soda, unbitten apple—and walked away with a
quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer’s
step, till she dumped her tray and glided the
through back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unchanging. “Who are they?” I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I’d forgotten. As she looked I
up to see who meant—though already knowing, probably, from my tone— suddenly he at
looked her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my a
neighbor for just fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine. He looked away quickly, more quickly than
I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I my
dropped eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest—it was
as if she had called his name, and he’d looked up in involuntary
response, already having decided not to answer. My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, at
looking the table like I did. “That’s Edward and Emmett Cullen, and and
Rosalie Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they
all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife.” She said this under
her breath. I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very
quickly, his perfect lips barely opening. The
other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to
them. Strange, unpopular names, I thought. The
kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here—small- I
town names? finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were two girls named Jessica in my
History class back home. “They are… very nice- looking.” I with
struggled the conspicuous understatement. “Yes!” Jessica agreed with another giggle. “They’re all together though— Emmett and
Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together.” Her voice held
all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being
honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip. “Which ones are
the Cullens?” I asked. “They don’t look related….” “Oh, they’re not. Dr. Cullen is really
young, in his twenties or early thirties. They’re all adopted. The Hales are and
brother sister, twins—the blondes—and they’re foster look
children.” “They a little old for foster children.” “They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are
both eighteen, but they’ve been with Mrs. Cullen since
they were eight. She’s their aunt or something like that.” “That’s really kind of nice—for them to
take care of all those kids like that, when they’re so young and everything.” “I guess so,” Jessica admitted
reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn’t
like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing
at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy. “I think that Mrs. Cullen can’t have any
kids, though,” she added, as if that lessened
their kindness. Throughout all this conversation, my eyes
flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the
walls and not eat. “Have they always lived in Forks?” I asked. Surely I would have noticed them
on one of my summers here. “No,” she said in a voice that implied it
should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. “They just moved down two years ago from
somewhere in Alaska.” I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as
they were, they were outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn’t the only newcomer
here, and certainly not the most interesting by
any standard. As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my
gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his
expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me
that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation. “Which one is the boy
with the reddish brown hair?” I asked. I peeked at him from the corner
of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students a
had today—he had slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again. “That’s Edward. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste
your time. He doesn’t date. Apparently none of the
girls here are good-looking enough for him.” She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he’d turned her down. I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought
his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too. After a few more minutes, the four of the
them left table together. They all were noticeably graceful— even
the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. The one named Edward didn’t look at me
again. I sat at the table with Jessica and her I
friends longer than would have if I’d been sitting alone. I was anxious not
to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her
name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too. When we entered the
classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab
table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but
one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized by
Edward Cullen his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat. As I walked down the aisle to introduce
myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him
surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid
in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes on
with the strangest expression his face—it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over
a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled. I’d that
noticed his eyes were black—coal black. Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a
book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send
me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes as
down I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare
he’d given me. I didn’t look up as I set my book on the
table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the of
corner my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair
and averting his face like he smelled something bad. Inconspicuously, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent
of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher. Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular
anatomy, something I’d already studied. I took
notes carefully anyway, always looking down. I couldn’t stop from
myself peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the strange boy next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed
his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was
clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the
long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was hard
surprisingly and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn’t nearly as slight as he’d looked
next to his burly brother. The class seemed to drag on longer than
the others. Was it because the day was finally coming
to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight to
fist loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn’t
breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his I
normal behavior? questioned my judgment on Jessica’s bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she was
not as resentful as I’d thought. It couldn’t have anything to do with me. He didn’t know me from Eve. I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at
me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if
looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind. At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out
of his seat. Fluidly he rose—he was much taller than
I’d thought—his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone was
else out of their seat. I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn’t fair. I began gathering up my
things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired
to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency. “Aren’t you
Isabella Swan?” a male voice asked. I looked up to see a
cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair into
carefully gelled orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. He obviously didn’t think I smelled bad. “Bella,” I corrected him, with a smile. “I’m Mike.” “Hi, Mike.” “Do you need any
help finding your next class?” “I’m headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it.” “That’s my next class, too.” He seemed
thrilled, though it wasn’t that big of a in a this
coincidence school small. We walked to class together; he was a of
chatterer—he supplied most the conversation, which made it easy for me. He’d lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class
also. He was the nicest person I’d met today. But as we were entering the gym, he asked, “So, did you stab Edward Cullen
with a pencil or what? I’ve never seen him act like that.” I cringed. So I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn’t Edward usual
Cullen’s behavior. I decided to play dumb. “Was that the boy
I sat next to in Biology?” I asked artlessly. “Yes,” he said. “He looked like he was in pain or
something.” “I don’t know,” I responded. “I never to
spoke him.” “He’s a weird guy.” Mike lingered by me
instead of heading to the dressing room. “If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you.” I smiled at him before walking through
the girls’ locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn’t enough to ease my
irritation. The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a
uniform but didn’t make me dress down for today’s class. At home, only two years of
P.E. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory
all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on
Earth. I watched four volleyball games running
simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had and
sustained— inflicted— playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated. The final bell
rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return
my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind
was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around
myself. When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back
out. Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front
of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze
hair. He didn’t appear to notice the sound of
my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free. He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the
gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour to
Biology another time—any other time. I just couldn’t believe that this was me.
about It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered
the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about
another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger take
could such a sudden, intense dislike to me. The door opened
again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through
the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in merely stepped to
the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Edward Cullen’s
back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me—his
face was absurdly handsome— with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt
a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing
wind. He turned back to the receptionist. “Never mind, then,” he said hastily in a
voice like velvet. “I can see that it’s impossible. Thank you so much for your help.” And he turned on his heel without another
look at me, and disappeared out the door. I went to
meekly the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip. “How did your first day go, dear?” the receptionist asked maternally.
“Fine,” I lied, my voice weak. She didn’t look
convinced. When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the thing
closest to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly. But soon I was cold enough to need the
heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared
to life. I headed back to Charlie’s house, fighting tears the whole way there. If you’ve read this far, you’re already –
improving your skill! Support the channel subscribe, leave a like, or drop a comment. Together, read
we’ll even faster! CHAPTER 2 OPEN BOOK. explained, twilight edward
cullen introduction, bella meets edward, twilight first
meeting, twilight vampire romance. Bella notices —
Edward Cullen mysterious, distant, yet magnetic in Twilight video
book. THE NEXT DAY WAS BETTER… AND WORSE. It was better because it wasn’t raining
yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque. It was easier because I knew what to of
expect my day. Mike came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring at him all
the while; that was flattering. People didn’t look at me quite as much as
they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that
included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people I
whose names and faces now remembered. I began to feel like I was treading water, instead of drowning in it. It was worse I
because was tired; I still couldn’t sleep with the wind echoing around the house. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on
me in Trig when my hand wasn’t raised and I had the wrong answer. It was miserable because I had to play
volleyball, and the one time I didn’t cringe out of
the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the head with it. And it was worse because Edward Cullen in
wasn’t school at all. All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing his bizarre glares. Part of me to
wanted confront him and demand to know what his problem was. While I was lying in my
sleepless bed, I even imagined what I would say. But I knew myself too well to think I the
would really have guts to do it. I made the Cowardly Lion look like
the terminator. But when I walked into the cafeteria with
Jessica— trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for him, and failing entirely—I
saw that his four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was
not with them. Mike intercepted us and steered us to his
table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy
chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting for
nervously the moment he would arrive. I hoped that he would simply ignore me he
when came, and prove my suspicions false. He didn’t
come, and as time passed I grew more and more
tense. I walked to Biology with more confidence
when, by the end of lunch, he still hadn’t
showed. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of
a golden retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class. I held my breath at the door, but Edward Cullen wasn’t there, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming
trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk till the bell rang. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went a
to sit by girl with braces and a bad perm. It looked like I was going to
have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn’t be easy. In a town like
this, where everyone lived on top of everyone
else, diplomacy was essential. I had never been
enormously tactful; I had no practice dealing with overly friendly boys. I was relieved that I had
the desk to myself, that Edward was absent. I told myself
that repeatedly. But I couldn’t get rid of the nagging I
suspicion that was the reason he wasn’t there. It was ridiculous, and egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that
strongly. It was impossible. And yet I couldn’t it
stop worrying that was true. When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of my cheeks
from the volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into my jeans and
navy blue sweater. I hurried from the girls’ locker room, pleased to find that I had successfully
evaded my retriever friend for the moment. I walked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in my truck and dug through my bag
to make sure I had what I needed. Last night I’d discovered that
Charlie couldn’t cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. So I requested that I be assigned kitchen
detail for the duration of my stay. He was willing enough to hand over the to
keys the banquet hall. I also found out that he had no food in
the house. So I had my shopping list and the cash in
from the jar the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was on my way to the
Thriftway. I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my
direction, and backed carefully into a place in the
line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting
rumble was coming from someone else’s car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins
getting into their car. It was the shiny new Volvo. Of course. I hadn’t noticed their clothes
before—I’d been too mesmerized by their faces. Now that I looked, it was obvious that
they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted at
designer origins. With their remarkable good looks, the
style with which they carried themselves, they could have worn dishrags and pulled
it off. It seemed excessive for them to have both
looks and money. But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn’t look as if it bought them any
acceptance here. No, I didn’t fully believe that. The isolation must be their desire; I any
couldn’t imagine door that wouldn’t be opened by that degree of beauty. They looked at my
noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes I
straight forward and was relieved when finally was free of the school grounds. The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be inside the supermarket;
it felt normal. I did the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the task
familiar gladly. The store was big enough inside that I of
couldn’t hear the tapping the rain on the roof to remind me where I was. When I got home, I unloaded all the
groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could find an
open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn’t mind. I wrapped
potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and
balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge. When I was finished
with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed a
into pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair up into a ponytail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had three messages. “Bella,” my mom
wrote… Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I’m almost finished packing for Florida, but I can’t find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom. I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first. “Bella,” she wrote… Why haven’t you me
e-mailed yet? What are you waiting for? Mom. The last was from this morning. Isabella, If I haven’t heard from you by
5:30 p.m. today I’m calling Charlie. I checked the
clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well
known for jumping the gun. Mom, Calm down. I’m writing right now. Don’t do anything rash. Bella. I sent
that, and began again. Mom, Everything is great. Of course it’s raining. I was waiting for
something to write about. School isn’t bad, just a little
repetitive. I met some nice kids who sit by me at
lunch. Your blouse is at the dry cleaners—you to
were supposed pick it up Friday. Charlie bought me a truck, can you it? I
believe love it. It’s old, but really sturdy, which is
good, you know, for me. I miss you, too. I’ll write again soon, but I’m not
going to check my e-mail every five minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you. Bella. I had decided to read Wuthering novel we
Heights—the were currently studying in English—yet again for the fun of it, and that’s what I was when
doing Charlie came home. I’d lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the out
potatoes and put the steak in to broil. “Bella?” my father called out when he me
heard on the stairs. Who else? I thought to myself. “Hey, Dad, welcome home.” “Thanks.” He up
hung his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he’d never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When I came here as
a child, he would always remove the bullets as as
soon he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now
not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself
on purpose. “What’s for dinner?” he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren’t always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed
to remember that far back. “Steak and potatoes,” I answered, and he
looked relieved. He seemed to feel awkward standing in the
kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. We were both more comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table. I called him in when
dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he into
walked the room. “Smells good, Bell.” “Thanks.” We ate in
silence for a few minutes. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Neither of us by
was bothered the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited for
living together. “So, how did you like school? Have you
made any friends?” he asked as he was taking seconds. “Well, I have a few classes with a girl
named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there’s this boy, Mike, who’s very
friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice.” With one
outstanding exception. “That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid—nice
family. His dad owns the sporting goods store of
just outside town. He makes a good living off all the who
backpackers come through here.” “Do you know the Cullen family?” I asked hesitantly. “Dr. Cullen’s family?
Sure. Dr. Cullen’s a great man.” “They… the kids… are a little different. They don’t seem to fit in very well at
school.” Charlie surprised me by looking angry. “People in this town,” he muttered. “Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who in
could probably work any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here,” he continued, getting louder. “We’re to
lucky have him—lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He’s an asset to the
community, and all of those kids are well behaved
and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I we
thought might have some problems with them. But they’re all very mature—I haven’t had
one speck of trouble from any of them. That’s more than I can say for the of who
children some folks have lived in this town for generations. And they stick
together the way a family should— camping trips every other weekend…. Just because they’re
newcomers, people have to talk.” It was the longest
speech I’d ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly about whatever were
people saying. I backpedaled. “They seemed nice enough
to me. I just noticed they kept to themselves. They’re all very attractive,” I added, trying to be more complimentary. “You see
should the doctor,” Charlie said, laughing. “It’s a good he’s
thing happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have
a hard time concentrating on their work with him around.” We lapsed back into as
silence we finished eating. He cleared the table while I started on
the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the dishes
by hand—no dishwasher—I went upstairs unwillingly to work on my math homework. I could feel a in the
tradition making. That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted. The of
rest the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at
school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not
to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other
team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their
way. Edward Cullen didn’t come back to school. Every day, I watched anxiously until the
rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without him. Then I could relax and join in the
lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to the
La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more out of politeness than desire. Beaches should be hot and dry. By Friday I was perfectly comfortable my
entering Biology class, no longer worried that Edward would be
there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of
school. I tried not to think about him, but I couldn’t totally suppress the worry
that I was responsible for his continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed. My first weekend
in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused to spending time in the
usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. I cleaned the
house, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my
mom more bogusly cheerful e-mail. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I to a
didn’t bother get card; I would have to make a date to visit Olympia or a
Seattle soon and find good bookstore. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage
the truck got… and shuddered at the thought. The rain
stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well. People greeted me in the parking lot
Monday morning. I didn’t know all their names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but happily
not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat
by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, very easy. All in
all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than
I had thought I would feel by this point. More comfortable than I had ever
expected to feel here. When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of
white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to
each other. The wind bit at my cheeks, my nose. “Wow,” Mike said. “It’s snowing.” I looked at the little cotton fluffs that
were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face. “Ew.” Snow. There went my good day. He looked
surprised. “Don’t you like snow?” “No. That means
it’s too cold for rain.” Obviously. “Besides, I thought it was to
supposed come down in flakes—you know, each one unique and all that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips.” “Haven’t you ever seen snow fall before?” he asked incredulously. “Sure I have.” I paused. “On TV.” Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping
snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward the
us—in wrong direction for his next class. Mike apparently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together
a pile of the white mush. “I’ll see you at lunch, okay?” I kept walking as I spoke. “Once people start throwing wet stuff, I go inside.” He just nodded, his eyes on Eric’s retreating figure. Throughout the morning, everyone about it
chattered excitedly the snow; apparently was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. Sure, it was drier than rain—until it in
melted your socks. I walked alertly to the cafeteria with
Jessica after Spanish. Mush balls were flying everywhere. I kept
a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but in a
something my expression kept her from lobbing snowball at me herself. Mike caught up to us as we
walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in
his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly as
about the snow fight we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that table in
the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. There were five people at the table. Jessica pulled on my arm. “Hello? Bella?
What do you want?” I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self- conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn’t done anything
wrong. “What’s with Bella?” Mike asked Jessica. “Nothing,” I answered. “I’ll just get a
soda today.” I caught up to the end of the line. “Aren’t you hungry?” Jessica asked.
“Actually, I feel a little sick,” I said, my eyes still on the floor. I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes on my feet. I sipped my soda
slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Mike asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was
feeling. I told him it was nothing, but I was wondering if I should play it
up and escape to the nurse’s office for the next hour. Ridiculous. I have to
shouldn’t run away. I decided to permit myself one glance at
the Cullen family’s table. If he was glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I
was. I kept my head down and glanced up under
my lashes. None of them were looking this way. I lifted my head a little. They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and
Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as
Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else—only they looked
more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us. But, aside from the laughter and
playfulness, there was something different, and I what
couldn’t quite pinpoint that difference was. I examined Edward the most carefully. His skin was less pale, I decided— from
flushed the snow fight maybe—the circles under his eyes much less noticeable. But there was
something more. I pondered, staring, trying to isolate
the change. “Bella, what are you staring at?” Jessica intruded, her eyes following my
stare. At that precise moment, his eyes flashed
over to meet mine. I dropped my head, letting my hair fall
to conceal my face. I was sure, though, in the instant our
eyes met, that he didn’t look harsh or unfriendly
as he had the last time I’d seen him. He looked merely curious again, in some
unsatisfied way. “Edward Cullen is staring at you,” Jessica giggled in my ear. “He doesn’t
look angry, does he?” I couldn’t help asking. “No,” she said, sounding confused by my
question. “Should he be?” “I don’t think he likes
me,” I confided. I still felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm. “The Cullens don’t like anybody… well, they don’t notice anybody enough to like
them. But he’s still staring at you.” “Stop looking at him,” I hissed. She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that
she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.
Mike interrupted us then—he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school
and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed enthusiastically. The way
she looked at Mike left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested. I kept
silent. I would have to hide in the gym until the
parking lot cleared. For the rest of the lunch hour I very my
carefully kept eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the bargain I’d
made with myself. Since he didn’t look angry, I would go to
Biology. My stomach did frightened little flips at
the thought of sitting next to him again. I didn’t really want to walk to class as
with Mike usual—he seemed to be a popular target for the snowball when we
snipers—but went to the door, everyone besides me groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the
snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. I pulled my hood up, secretly pleased. I would be free to go straight home after
Gym. Mike kept up a string of complaints on to
the way building four. Once inside the classroom, I saw with my
relief that table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of to
slides each table. Class didn’t start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook. I heard very clearly when the chair next
to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on I
the pattern was drawing. “Hello,” said a quiet, musical voice. I looked up, stunned that he was speaking
to me. He was sitting as far away from me as the
desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His hair was dripping wet, disheveled—
even so, he looked like he’d just finished a for
shooting commercial hair gel. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful. “My name is
Edward Cullen,” he continued. “I didn’t have a chance to
introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan.” My mind was with
spinning confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? He was
perfectly polite now. I had to speak; he was waiting. But I couldn’t think of anything to say.
conventional “H-how do you know my name?” I stammered. He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh. “Oh, I think everyone
knows your name. The whole town’s been waiting for you to
arrive.” I grimaced. I knew it was something like
that. “No,” I persisted stupidly. “I meant, why did you call me Bella?” He seemed confused. “Do you prefer
Isabella?” “No, I like Bella,” I said. “But I think Charlie—I mean my dad—must
call me Isabella behind my back—that’s what everyone here seems to know me as,” I tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron. “Oh.” He let it drop. I looked away awkwardly. Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at
that moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained we
the lab would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to the of
separate slides onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented
and label them accordingly. We weren’t supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming to
around see who had it right. “Get started,” he commanded. “Ladies
first, partner?” Edward asked. I looked up to a
see him smiling crooked smile so beautiful that I could only stare at him like an idiot. “Or I could start, if you wish.” The smile faded; he was obviously if I
wondering was mentally competent. “No,” I said, flushing. “I’ll go ahead.” I was showing off, just a little. I’d already done this lab, and I knew I
what was looking for. It should be easy. I snapped the first
slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide briefly. My was
assessment confident. “Prophase.” “Do you mind if I look?” he asked as I began to remove the slide. His hand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice cold, like he’d been holding them in a before
snowdrift class. But that wasn’t why I jerked my hand away
so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand as
if an electric current had passed through us. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, pulling his
hand back immediately. However, he continued to reach for the
microscope. I watched him, still staggered, as he the
examined slide for an even shorter time than I had. “Prophase,” he agreed, writing it
neatly in the first space on our worksheet. He swiftly switched out the first slide
for the second, and then glanced at it cursorily. “Anaphase,” he murmured, writing it down
as he spoke. I kept my voice indifferent. “May I?” He smirked and pushed the microscope to
me. I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Dang it, he was right. “Slide three?” I held out
my hand without looking at him. He handed it to me; it seemed like he was
being careful not to touch my skin again. I took the most fleeting look
I could manage. “Interphase.” I passed him the microscope
before he could ask for it. He took a swift peek, and then wrote it
down. I would have written it while he looked, but his clear, elegant script intimidated
me. I didn’t want to spoil the page with my
clumsy scrawl. We were finished before anyone else was
close. I could see Mike and his partner two and
comparing slides again again, and another group had their book open the
under table. Which left me with nothing to do but try
to not look at him… unsuccessfully. I glanced up, and he was
staring at me, that same inexplicable look of in his
frustration eyes. Suddenly I identified that subtle in his
difference face. “Did you get contacts?” I blurted out
unthinkingly. He seemed puzzled by my unexpected
question. “No.” “Oh,” I mumbled. “I thought there
was something different about your eyes.” He shrugged, and looked away. In fact, I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat black color
of his eyes the last time he’d glared at me—the color was striking against the of
background his pale skin and his auburn hair. Today, his eyes were a completely color:
different a strange ocher, darker than butterscotch, but with the
same golden tone. I didn’t understand how that could be, unless he was lying for some reason about
the contacts. Or maybe Forks was making me crazy in the
literal sense of the word. I looked down. His hands were clenched
into hard fists again. Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren’t working. He looked over our shoulders to glance at
the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check
the answers. “So, Edward, didn’t you think Isabella a
should get chance with the microscope?” Mr. Banner asked. “Bella,” Edward
corrected automatically. “Actually, she identified three of the
five.” Mr. Banner looked at me now; his was
expression skeptical. “Have you done this lab before?” he asked. I smiled sheepishly. “Not with
onion root.” “Whitefish blastula?” “Yeah.” Mr. Banner
nodded. “Were you in an advanced placement in
program Phoenix?” “Yes.” “Well,” he said after a moment, “I guess it’s good you two are lab
partners.” He mumbled something else as he walked
away. After he left, I began doodling on my
notebook again. “It’s too bad about the snow, isn’t it?” Edward asked. I had the that
feeling he was forcing himself to make small talk with me. Paranoia swept over me
again. It was like he had heard my conversation
with Jessica at lunch and was trying to prove me wrong. “Not really,” I answered
honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like
everyone else. I was still trying to dislodge the stupid
feeling of suspicion, and I couldn’t concentrate. “You don’t
like the cold.” It wasn’t a question. “Or the wet.” “Forks must be a difficult place for you
to live,” he mused. “You have no idea,” I muttered darkly. He looked fascinated I
by what said, for some reason I couldn’t imagine. His face was such a distraction that I to
tried not look at it any more than courtesy absolutely demanded. “Why
did you come here, then?” No one had asked me that—not out
straight like he did, demanding. “It’s… complicated.” “I I
think can keep up,” he pressed. I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting his
gaze. His dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking. “My got
mother remarried,” I said. “That doesn’t sound so complex,” he disagreed, but he was suddenly
sympathetic. “When did that happen?” “Last September.” My voice sounded sad, even to me. “And you don’t like him,” Edward surmised, his tone still kind. “No, Phil is fine. Too young, maybe, but nice enough.” “Why didn’t you stay with them?” I couldn’t fathom his interest, but he to
continued stare at me with penetrating eyes, as if my dull life’s story was somehow
vitally important. “Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a
living.” I half-smiled. “Have I heard of him?” he asked, smiling in response. “Probably
not. He doesn’t play well. Strictly minor
league. He moves around a lot.” “And your mother
sent you here so that she could travel with him.” He said it as an assumption
again, not a question. My chin raised a fraction. “No, she did not send me here. I sent myself.” His eyebrows knit
together. “I don’t understand,” he admitted, and he
seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact. I sighed. Why was I explaining this to He
him? continued to stare at me with obvious curiosity. “She stayed with me at
first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… so I decided it was time to spend some
quality time with Charlie.” My voice was glum by the time I finished. “But now you’re unhappy,” he pointed out. “And?” I challenged. “That doesn’t seem
fair.” He shrugged, but his eyes were still
intense. I laughed without humor. “Hasn’t anyone
ever told you? Life isn’t fair.” “I believe I have heard that somewhere
before,” he agreed dryly. “So that’s all,” I insisted, wondering why he was still at
staring me that way. His gaze became appraising. “You put on a
good show,” he said slowly. “But I’d be willing to
bet that you’re suffering more than you let anyone see.” I grimaced at him, resisting the impulse to stick out my a
tongue like five-year- old, and looked away. “Am I wrong?” I tried to ignore him. “I didn’t think
so,” he murmured smugly. “Why does it matter
to you?” I asked, irritated. I kept my eyes away, watching the teacher make his rounds. “That’s a very good question,” he
muttered, so quietly that I wondered if he was to
talking himself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was
going to get. I sighed, scowling at the blackboard. “Am I annoying you?” he asked. He sounded amused. I glanced at him
without thinking… and told the truth again. “Not exactly. I’m more annoyed at myself. My face is so
easy to read—my mother always calls me her open book.” I frowned. “On the
contrary, I find you very difficult to read.” Despite everything that I’d said and he’d
guessed, he sounded like he meant it. “You must be a good reader then,” I replied. “Usually.” He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultrawhite
teeth. Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relief to listen. I was in disbelief that I’d just my life
explained dreary to this bizarre, beautiful boy who may or may not despise
me. He’d seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of
my eye, that he was leaning away from me again, his hands gripping the edge of the table
with unmistakable tension. I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, with transparencies
on the overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty the
through microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable. When
the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as swiftly and as from the
gracefully room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after him
in amazement. Mike skipped quickly to my side and up my
picked books for me. I imagined him with a wagging tail. “That was awful,” he groaned. “They all
looked exactly the same. You’re lucky you had Cullen for a
partner.” “I didn’t have any trouble with it,” I said, stung by his assumption. I regretted the snub instantly. “I’ve the
done lab before, though,” I added before he could get his
feelings hurt. “Cullen seemed friendly enough today,” he
commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. He didn’t seem pleased about it. I tried to sound indifferent. “I wonder
what was with him last Monday.” I couldn’t concentrate on Mike’s chatter
as we walked to Gym, and P.E. didn’t do much to hold my
attention, either. Mike was on my team today. He chivalrously covered my position as as
well his own, so my woolgathering was only interrupted
when it was my turn to serve; my team ducked warily out of the way every time I was up. The rain was just a mist as I walked to
the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the dry
cab. I got the heater running, for once not of
caring about the mind-numbing roar the engine. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the could
heater dry it on the way home. I looked around me to make sure it was
clear. That’s when I noticed the still, white figure. Edward Cullen was leaning
against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring in
intently my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck
into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in
my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the in
brake time. It was just the sort of car that my truck
would make scrap metal of. I took a deep breath, still looking out
the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with
greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the
Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear
I saw him laughing. CHAPTER 3 PHENOMENON. car accident, edward saves
bella, twilight phenomenon, bella nearly dies
twilight, twilight edward powers. A near-death — in
accident Edward saves Bella with impossible strength Twilight fast read. When i opened my eyes in the
morning, something was different. It was the light. It was still the gray-green light of a in
cloudy day the forest, but it was clearer somehow. I realized no
there was fog veiling my window. I jumped up to look outside, and then groaned in horror. A fine layer
of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. But that wasn’t
the worst part. All the rain from yesterday had frozen on
solid— coating the needles the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the a ice
driveway deadly slick. I had enough trouble not falling down the
when ground was dry; it might be safer for me to go back to bed now. Charlie had left for work before I got
downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with Charlie was
like having my own place, and I found myself reveling in the of
aloneness instead being lonely. I threw down a quick bowl of cereal and
some orange juice from the carton. I felt excited to go to school, and that scared me. I knew it wasn’t the
stimulating learning environment I was anticipating, or seeing my new set of friends. If I was being honest with myself, I knew I was eager to get to school I see
because would Edward Cullen. And that was very, very stupid. I should be avoiding him entirely after
my brainless and embarrassing babbling yesterday. And I was suspicious of him; why should I
he lie about his eyes? was still frightened of the hostility I sometimes
felt emanating from him, and I was still tongue-tied whenever I
pictured his perfect face. I was well aware that my league and his
league were spheres that did not touch. So I shouldn’t be at all anxious to see
him today. It took every ounce of my concentration
to make it down the icy brick driveway alive. I almost lost my balance when I finally
got to the truck, but I managed to cling to the side mirror
and save myself. Clearly, today was going to be
nightmarish. Driving to school, I distracted myself my
from fear of falling and my unwanted speculations about Edward Cullen by thinking about Mike and
Eric, and the obvious difference in how teenage
boys responded to me here. I was sure I looked exactly the same as I
had in Phoenix. Maybe it was just that the boys back home
had watched me pass slowly through all the awkward phases of adolescence and of
still thought me that way. Perhaps it was because I was a novelty
here, where novelties were few and far between. Possibly my crippling clumsiness was seen
as endearing rather than pathetic, casting me as a damsel in distress. Whatever the reason, Mike’s puppy dog and
behavior Eric’s apparent rivalry with him were disconcerting. I wasn’t sure if I didn’t prefer being
ignored. My truck seemed to have no problem with
the black ice that covered the roads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting
to carve a path of destruction through Main Street. When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I’d had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I to
walked the back of the truck— carefully holding the side for support—to examine my tires. There were thin chains crisscrossed in
diamond shapes around them. Charlie had gotten up who knows how early
to put snow chains on my truck. My throat suddenly felt tight. I wasn’t
used to being taken care of, and Charlie’s unspoken concern caught me
by surprise. I was standing by the back corner of the
truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave
of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound. It was a high-pitched screech, and it was
fast becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled. I saw several
things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, the way it does in the movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to my
make brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail
several things at once. Edward Cullen was standing four cars down
from me, staring at me in horror. His face stood a
out from sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. But of more immediate importance was the
dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the
brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the
parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my
truck, and I was standing between them. I didn’t even have time to close my eyes. Just before I heard the shattering crunch
of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the
direction I was expecting. My head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold me to
pinning the ground. I was lying on the pavement behind the
tan car I’d parked next to. But I didn’t have a chance to notice
anything else, because the van was still coming. It had curled gratingly around the end of
the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to
collide with me again. A low oath made me aware that someone was
with me, and the voice was impossible not to
recognize. Two long, white hands shot out in front
protectively of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot my
from face, the large hands fitting providentially a
into deep dent in the side of the van’s body. Then his hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body
of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging a
my legs around like rag doll’s, till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt— exactly where, a second
ago, my legs had been. It was absolutely for
silent one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more
than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edward Cullen’s low, frantic voice in my ear. “Bella? Are you
all right?” “I’m fine.” My voice sounded strange. I tried to sit up, and realized he was me
holding against the side of his body in an iron grasp. “Be careful,” he warned as I struggled. “I think you
hit your head pretty hard.” I became aware of a throbbing ache above
centered my left ear. “Ow,” I said, surprised. “That’s what I
thought.” His voice, amazingly, sounded like he was
suppressing laughter. “How in the…” I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings. “How did you get over here so fast?” “I was standing right next to you, Bella,” he said, his tone serious again. I turned to sit up, and this time he let
me, releasing his hold around my waist and as
sliding far from me as he could in the limited space. I looked at his
concerned, innocent expression and was disoriented
again by the force of his gold-colored eyes. What was I asking him? And then they us,
found a crowd of people with tears streaming
down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at us. “Don’t move,” someone instructed. “Get of
Tyler out the van!” someone else shouted. There was a flurry
of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Edward’s cold hand
pushed my shoulder down. “Just stay put for now.” “But it’s cold,” I complained. It surprised me when he his
chuckled under breath. There was an edge to the sound. “You were over there,” I suddenly
remembered, and his chuckle stopped short. “You were
by your car.” His expression turned hard. “No, I
wasn’t.” “I saw you.” All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffer voices of adults
arriving on the scene. But I obstinately held on to our I was
argument; right, and he was going to admit it. “Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way.” He unleashed the full, devastating power
of his eyes on me, as if trying to communicate something
crucial. “No.” I set my jaw. The gold in his eyes
blazed. “Please, Bella.” “Why?” I demanded. me,”
“Trust he pleaded, his soft voice overwhelming. I could hear the sirens now. “Will you promise to explain everything
to me later?” “Fine,” he snapped, abruptly exasperated.
“Fine,” I repeated angrily. It took six EMTs and
two teachers—Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp—to shift the van
far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edward vehemently refused his, and I
tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I’d hit my head
and probably had a concussion. I almost died of humiliation when they on
put the neck brace. It looked like the entire school was
there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the
back of the ambulance. Edward got to ride in the front. It was maddening. To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get
me safely away. “Bella!” he yelled in panic when he me on
recognized the stretcher. “I’m completely fine, Char—Dad,” I sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with me.” He to a
turned the closest EMT for second opinion. I tuned him out to consider the jumble of
inexplicable images churning chaotically in my head. When they’d lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car’s
bumper—a very distinct dent that fit the contours of Edward’s shoulders… as
if he had braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame…. And then there was his family, looking on from the distance, with that
expressions ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their brother’s
safety. I tried to think of a logical solution I
that could explain what had just seen—a solution that excluded the assumption I
that was insane. Naturally, the ambulance got a police to
escort the county hospital. I felt ridiculous the whole time they me.
were unloading What made it worse was that Edward simply
glided through the hospital doors under his own power. I ground my teeth together. They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated
by pastel- patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and
a thermometer under my tongue. Since no one bothered pulling the curtain
around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn’t obligated to wear the
stupid- looking neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, I quickly the
unfastened Velcro and threw it under the bed. There was another flurry of hospital
personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next
to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from my class
Government beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. Tyler looked a hundred times worse
than I felt. But he was staring anxiously at me. “Bella, I’m so sorry!” “I’m fine, Tyler—you look awful, are you all right?” As we spoke, nurses began unwinding his
soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all
over his forehead and left cheek. He ignored me. “I thought I was going to
kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong….” He winced as one nurse started dabbing at
his face. “Don’t worry about it; you missed me.” “How did you get out of the way so fast?
You were there, and then you were gone….” “Umm… Edward pulled me out of the way.” He looked confused. “Who?” “Edward was to
Cullen—he standing next me.” I’d always been a terrible liar; I didn’t
sound convincing at all. “Cullen? I didn’t see him… wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is he okay?” “I think so. He’s here somewhere, but they didn’t make
him use a stretcher.” I knew I wasn’t crazy. What had happened?
There was no way to explain away what I’d seen. They wheeled me away then, to X-ray my head. I told them there was
nothing wrong, and I was right. Not even a concussion. I asked if I could leave, but the nurse said I had to talk to a
doctor first. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting, harassed by Tyler’s constant and
apologies promises to make it up to me. No matter how many times I tried to him I
convince was fine, he continued to torment himself. Finally, I closed my eyes and ignored him. He kept up a remorseful mumbling. “Is she sleeping?” a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open. Edward was standing at
the foot of my bed, smirking. I glared at him. It wasn’t have
easy—it would been more natural to ogle. “Hey, Edward, I’m really sorry—” Tyler
began. Edward lifted a hand to stop him. “No blood, no foul,” he said, flashing his brilliant teeth. He moved to
sit on the edge of Tyler’s bed, facing me. He smirked again. “So, what’s the verdict?” he asked me. “There’s nothing wrong with me at all, but they won’t let me go,” I complained. “How come you aren’t to a
strapped gurney like the rest of us?” “It’s all about who you know,” he answered. “But don’t worry, I came to
spring you.” Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was young, he was blond… and he was handsomer than
any movie star I’d ever seen. He was pale, though, and tired- looking, with circles under his eyes. From
Charlie’s description, this had to be Edward’s father. “So, Miss Swan,” Dr. Cullen said in a
remarkably appealing voice, “how are you feeling?” “I’m fine,” I said, for the last time, I hoped. He walked to the lightboard on
the wall over my head, and turned it on. “Your X-rays look good,” he said. “Does your head hurt? Edward you
said hit it pretty hard.” “It’s fine,” I repeated with a sigh, throwing a quick scowl toward Edward. The doctor’s cool fingers probed lightly
along my skull. He noticed when I winced. “Tender?” he asked. “Not really.” I’d had worse. I heard a chuckle, and looked over to see
Edward’s patronizing smile. My eyes narrowed. “Well, your father is
in the waiting room—you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or
have trouble with your eyesight at all.” “Can’t I go back to school?” I asked, imagining Charlie trying to be
attentive. “Maybe you should take it easy today.” I glanced at Edward. “Does he get to go
to school?” “Someone has to spread the good news that
we survived,” Edward said smugly. “Actually,” Dr.
Cullen corrected, “most of the school seems to be in the
waiting room.” “Oh no,” I moaned, covering my face with
my hands. Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Do you
want to stay?” “No, no!” I insisted, throwing my legs of
over the side the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly—I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked concerned. “I’m fine,” I assured him again. No need to tell him my balance problems
had nothing to do with hitting my head. “Take some Tylenol for the pain,” he suggested as he steadied me. “It doesn’t hurt that bad,” I insisted. “It sounds like you were extremely lucky,” Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed my
chart with a flourish. “Lucky Edward happened to be standing to
next me,” I amended with a hard glance at the of my
subject statement. “Oh, well, yes,” Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in of
front him. Then he looked away, at Tyler, and walked to the next bed. My intuition flickered; the doctor was in
on it. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to stay with
us just a little bit longer,” he said to Tyler, and began checking his
cuts. As soon as the doctor’s back was turned, I moved to Edward’s side. “Can I talk to
you for a minute?” I hissed under my breath. He took a step
back from me, his jaw suddenly clenched. “Your father
is waiting for you,” he said through his teeth. I glanced at
Dr. Cullen and Tyler. “I’d like to speak with
you alone, if you don’t mind,” I pressed. He glared, and then turned his back and
strode down the long room. I nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a
short hallway, he spun around to face me. “What do you want?” he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold. His unfriendliness intimidated me. My out
words came with less severity than I’d intended. “You owe me an explanation,” I reminded
him. “I saved your life—I don’t owe you
anything.” I flinched back from the resentment in
his voice. “You promised.” “Bella, you hit your head, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” His tone was cutting. My temper flared
now, and I glared defiantly at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my head.” He glared back. “What do you want from me, Bella?” “I want to know the truth,” I said. “I want to know why I’m lying for
you.” “What do you think happened?” he snapped. It came out in a rush. “All I know is that you weren’t anywhere
near me—Tyler didn’t see you, either, so don’t tell me I hit my head
too hard. That van was going to crush us both—and
it didn’t, and your hands left dents in the side of
it—and you left a dent in the other car, and you’re not hurt at all—and
the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up….” I could hear how crazy it sounded, and I couldn’t continue. I was so mad I I
could feel the tears coming; tried to force them back by grinding my teeth
together. He was staring at me incredulously. But his face was tense, defensive. “You think I lifted a van off you?” His tone questioned my sanity, but it me
only made more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by
a skilled actor. I merely nodded once, jaw tight. “Nobody will believe that, you know.” His voice held an edge of derision now. “I’m not going to tell anybody.” I said each word slowly, carefully my
controlling anger. Surprise flitted across his face. “Then
why does it matter?” “It matters to me,” I insisted. “I don’t like to lie—so there’d better be
a good reason why I’m doing it.” “Can’t you just thank me and get over it?” “Thank you.” I waited, fuming and
expectant. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?” “No.” “In that case… I hope you enjoy disappointment.” We at
scowled each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in
danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to down
stare a destroying angel. “Why did you even bother?” I asked
frigidly. He paused, and for a brief moment his was
stunning face unexpectedly vulnerable. “I don’t know,” he whispered. And then he
turned his back on me and walked away. I was so angry, it took me a few minutes
until I could move. When I could walk, I made my way slowly
to the exit at the end of the hallway. The waiting room was more
unpleasant than I’d feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks
was there, staring at me. Charlie rushed to my side;
I put up my hands. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” I him
assured sullenly. I was still aggravated, not in the mood
for chitchat. “What did the doctor say?” “Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and
I could go home.” I sighed. Mike and Jessica and Eric were
all there, beginning to converge on us. “Let’s go,” I urged. Charlie put one arm behind my
back, not quite touching me, and led me to the
glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends, hoping to convey that they didn’t need to
worry anymore. It was a huge relief—the first time I’d
ever felt that way—to get into the cruiser. We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up
in my thoughts that I barely knew Charlie was there. I was positive that in
Edward’s defensive behavior the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could I’d
hardly believe witnessed. When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke. “Um… you’ll need
to call Renée.” He hung his head, guilty. I was appalled. “You told Mom!” “Sorry.” I slammed the a
cruiser’s door little harder than necessary on my way out. My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine
at least thirty times before she would calm down. She begged me to come
home— forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment—but her pleas were easier I
to resist than would have thought. I was consumed by the mystery Edward
presented. And more than a little obsessed by Edward
himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I wasn’t as eager
to escape Forks as I should be, as any normal, sane person would be. I decided I might as well go to bed early
that night. Charlie continued to watch me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves. I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol
from the bathroom. They did help, and, as the pain eased, I drifted to sleep. That was the first I
night dreamed of Edward Cullen. CHAPTER 4 INVITATIONS. invitations, twilight prom
dance, twilight bella friends, twilight school life, bella and edward
tension. Prom invitations pull Bella closer to in
Edward’s strange behavior Twilight video book. In my dream it was very dark, and what dim light there was seemed to be
radiating from Edward’s skin. I couldn’t see his face, just his back as
he walked away from me, leaving me in the blackness. No matter I
how fast ran, I couldn’t catch up to him; no matter how
loud I called, he never turned. Troubled, I woke in the
middle of the night and couldn’t sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. After that, he was in my dreams nearly
every night, but always on the periphery, never within
reach. The month that followed the accident was
uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing. To my
dismay, I found myself the center of attention of
for the rest that week. Tyler Crowley was impossible, following
me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow. I tried to convince him what I wanted was
more than anything else for him to forget all about it— especially since had
nothing actually happened to me—but he remained insistent. He followed me between classes and sat at
our now-crowded lunch table. Mike and Eric were even less friendly him
toward than they were to each other, which made me worry that I’d gained fan.
another unwelcome No one seemed concerned about Edward, though I explained over and over that he
was the hero—how he had pulled me out of the way and had nearly been crushed, too. I tried to be convincing. Jessica, Mike, Eric, and everyone else
always commented that they hadn’t even seen him there till the van was pulled away. I wondered to no
myself why one else had seen him standing so far away, before he was
suddenly, impossibly saving my life. With chagrin, I realized the probable cause—no one else
was as aware of Edward as I always was. No one else watched him the way I did. How pitiful. Edward was never surrounded
by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Cullens
and the Hales sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among
themselves. None of them, especially Edward, glanced
my way anymore. When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would
suddenly ball up—skin stretched even whiter over the bones—did I wonder if he wasn’t quite as
oblivious as he appeared. He wished he hadn’t pulled me from the of
path Tyler’s van—there was no other conclusion I could come to. I wanted very much to to
talk him, and the day after the accident I tried. The last time I’d seen him, outside the ER, we’d both been so furious. I still was angry that he wouldn’t trust
me with the truth, even though I was keeping my part of the
bargain flawlessly. But he had in fact saved my life, no matter how he’d done it. And, overnight, the heat of my anger into
faded awed gratitude. He was already seated when I got to
Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting him to turn toward me. He showed no sign that he realized I was
there. “Hello, Edward,” I said pleasantly, to I
show him was going to behave myself. He turned his head a fraction toward me
without meeting my gaze, nodded once, and then looked the other
way. And that was the last contact I’d had
with him, though he was there, a foot away from me, every day. I watched him sometimes, unable to stop myself—from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or parking lot. I watched as his golden eyes grew darker
perceptibly day by day. But in class I gave no more notice that
he existed than he showed toward me. I was miserable. And the dreams continued. Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my
e-mails alerted Renée to my depression, and she called a few times, worried. I tried to convince her it was
just the weather that had me down. Mike, at least, was pleased by the me and
obvious coolness between my lab partner. I could see he’d been worried that daring
Edward’s rescue might have impressed me, and he was relieved that it seemed to the
have opposite effect. He grew more confident, sitting on the of
edge my table to talk before Biology class started, ignoring Edward as completely as
he ignored us. The snow washed away for good after that
one dangerously icy day. Mike was disappointed he’d never gotten
to stage his snowball fight, but pleased that the beach trip would be
soon possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and
the weeks passed. Jessica made me aware of another event on
looming the horizon—she called the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike
to the girls’ choice spring dance in two weeks. “Are you sure you don’t mind… you weren’t planning to ask him?” she persisted when I told her I didn’t in
mind the least. “No, Jess, I’m not going,” I assured her. Dancing was glaringly outside my range of
abilities. “It will be really fun.” Her attempt to
convince me was halfhearted. I suspected that Jessica enjoyed my more
inexplicable popularity than my actual company. “You have fun with Mike,” I encouraged. The next day, I was surprised that wasn’t
Jessica her usual gushing self in Trig and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by
my side between classes, and I was afraid to ask her why. If Mike had turned her down, I was the last person she would want to
tell. My fears were strengthened during lunch
when Jessica sat as far from Mike as possible, chatting animatedly with Eric. Mike was
unusually quiet. Mike was still quiet as he walked me to
class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad
sign. But he didn’t broach the subject until I
was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically
aware of Edward sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely an of my
invention imagination. “So,” Mike said, looking at the floor, “Jessica asked me to the spring dance.” “That’s great.” I made my voice bright
and enthusiastic. “You’ll have a lot of fun with Jessica.” “Well…” He floundered as he examined my
smile, clearly not happy with my response. “I told her I had to think about it.” “Why would you do that?” I let color my
disapproval tone, though I was relieved he hadn’t given her
an absolute no. His face was bright red as he looked down
again. Pity shook my resolve. “I was wondering
if… well, if you might be planning to ask me.” I paused for a moment, hating the wave of
guilt that swept through me. But I saw, from the corner of my eye, Edward’s head tilt reflexively in my
direction. “Mike, I think you should tell her yes,” I said. “Did you already ask someone?” Did Edward notice how Mike’s eyes in his
flickered direction? “No,” I assured him. “I’m not going to the at
dance all.” “Why not?” Mike demanded. I didn’t want
to get into the safety hazards that dancing presented, so I quickly made new plans. “I’m going to Seattle that Saturday,” I explained. I needed to get out of town
anyway—it was suddenly the perfect time to go. “Can’t you go some other weekend?” “Sorry, no,” I said. “So you shouldn’t
make Jess wait any longer—it’s rude.” “Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbled, and
turned, dejected, to walk back to his seat. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers
to my temples, trying to push the guilt and sympathy out
of my head. Mr. Banner began talking. I sighed and my
opened eyes. And Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration
even more distinct now in his black eyes. I stared back, surprised, expecting him
to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with my
probing intensity into eyes. There was no question of me looking away. My hands started to shake. “Mr. Cullen?” the teacher called, seeking the
answer to a question that I hadn’t heard. “The Krebs Cycle,” Edward answered, as he
seeming reluctant turned to look at Mr. Banner. I looked down at my book as soon
as his eyes released me, trying to find my place. Cowardly as ever, I shifted my hair over my right shoulder
to hide my face. I couldn’t believe the rush of emotion to
pulsing through me—just because he’d happened look at me for the first time in a half-dozen
weeks. I couldn’t allow him to have this level
of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy. I tried very hard not
to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was
impossible, at least not to let him know that I was
aware of him. When the bell rang at last, I turned my back to him to gather my
things, expecting him to leave immediately as
usual. “Bella?” His voice shouldn’t have been so
familiar to me, as if I’d known the sound of it all my a
life rather than for just few short weeks. I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn’t want to feel what I
knew I would feel when I looked at his too-perfect face. My expression was I
wary when finally turned to him; his expression was unreadable. He didn’t say anything. Are
“What? you speaking to me again?” I finally asked, an unintentional note of
petulance in my voice. His lips twitched, fighting a smile. “No, not really,” he admitted. I closed
my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth. He waited. “Then what do you want, Edward?” I asked, keeping my eyes closed;
it was easier to talk to him coherently that way. “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere. “I’m being very rude, I know. But it’s better this way, really.” I opened my eyes. His face was very
serious. “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, my voice guarded. “It’s better if
we’re not friends,” he explained. “Trust me.” My eyes
narrowed. I’d heard that before. “It’s too bad you
didn’t figure that out earlier,” I hissed through my teeth. “You could all
have saved yourself this regret.” “Regret?” The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. “Regret
for what?” “For not just letting that stupid van
squish me.” He was astonished. He stared at me in
disbelief. When he finally spoke, he almost sounded
mad. “You think I regret saving your life?” “I know you do,” I snapped. “You don’t know anything.” He was mad.
definitely I turned my head sharply away from him, clenching my jaw against all the wild I
accusations wanted to hurl at him. I gathered my books together, then stood
and walked to the door. I meant to sweep dramatically out of the
room, but of course I caught the toe of my boot
on the doorjamb and dropped my books. I stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then I and
sighed bent to pick them up. He was there; he’d already stacked them a
into pile. He handed them to me, his face hard. “Thank you,” I said icily. His eyes
narrowed. “You’re welcome,” he retorted. I up
straightened swiftly, turned away from him again, and stalked
off to Gym without looking back. Gym was brutal. We’d moved on to
basketball. My team never passed me the ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people with me. Today I was worse than usual because my
head was so filled with Edward. I tried to concentrate on my feet, but he kept creeping back into my just I
thoughts when really needed my balance. It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck; were
there just so many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only in
minimal damage the accident. I’d had to replace the taillights, and if I’d had a real paint job, I would have touched that up. Tyler’s parents had to sell their van for
parts. I almost had a stroke when I rounded the
corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of
my truck. Then I realized it was just Eric. I started walking again. “Hey, Eric,” I called. “Hi, Bella.” “What’s up?” I said as I was unlocking the door. I wasn’t paying attention to the edge in
uncomfortable his voice, so his next words took me by surprise. “Uh, I was just wondering… if you would
go to the spring dance with me?” His voice broke on the last word. “I thought it was girls’ choice,” I said, too startled to be diplomatic. “Well, yeah,” he admitted, shamefaced. I
recovered my composure and tried to make my smile warm. “Thank you for asking me, but I’m going
to be in Seattle that day.” “Oh,” he said. “Well, maybe next time.” “Sure,” I agreed, and then bit my lip. I wouldn’t want him to take that too
literally. He slouched off, back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle. Edward was walking
past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips
pressed together. I yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly behind me. I revved
the engine deafeningly and reversed out into the aisle. Edward was in his car already, two spaces down, sliding out smoothly in
front of me, cutting me off. He stopped there—to wait
for his family; I could see the four of them walking this way, but still by the
cafeteria. I considered taking out the rear of his
shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. I looked in my rearview mirror. A line was beginning to form. Directly behind me, Tyler Crowley was in
his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I was too aggravated to him.
acknowledge While I was sitting there, looking but at
everywhere the car in front of me, I heard a knock on my passenger side
window. I looked over; it was Tyler. I glanced back in my rearview mirror, confused. His car was still running, the door left open. I leaned across the
cab to crank the window down. It was stiff. I got it halfway down, then gave up. “I’m sorry, Tyler, I’m stuck behind Cullen.” I was annoyed—
obviously the holdup wasn’t my fault. “Oh, I know—I just wanted to ask you
something while we’re trapped here.” He grinned. This could not be happening. “Will you ask me to the spring dance?” he continued. “I’m not going to be in
town, Tyler.” My voice sounded a little sharp. I had to remember it wasn’t his fault and
that Mike Eric had already used up my quota of patience for the day. “Yeah, Mike said that,” he admitted. “Then why—” He shrugged. “I was hoping
you were just letting him down easy.” Okay, it was completely his fault. “Sorry, Tyler,” I said, working to hide
my irritation. “I really am going out of town.” “That’s cool. We still have prom.” And before I could respond, he was back
walking to his car. I could feel the shock on my face. I looked forward to see Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all sliding
into the Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Edward’s eyes on
were me. He was unquestionably shaking with
laughter, as if he’d heard every word Tyler had
said. My foot itched toward the gas pedal… one little bump wouldn’t hurt any of them, just that glossy silver paint job. I revved the engine. But they were all in, and Edward was speeding away. I drove
home slowly, carefully, muttering to myself the whole
way. When I got home, I decided to make for
chicken enchiladas dinner. It was a long process, and it would keep
me busy. While I was simmering the onions and
chilies, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to
answer it, but it might be Charlie or my mom. It was Jessica, and she was jubilant; had
Mike caught her after school to accept her invitation. I celebrated with her briefly
while I stirred. She had to go, she wanted to call Angela
and Lauren to tell them. I suggested— with casual innocence— that
maybe Angela, the shy girl who had Biology with me, could ask Eric. And Lauren, a standoffish
girl who had always ignored me at the lunch table, could ask Tyler; I’d heard he was
still available. Jess thought that was a great idea. Now that she was sure of Mike, she actually sounded sincere when she she
said wished I would go to the dance. I gave her my Seattle excuse. After I hung up, I tried to concentrate I
on dinner— dicing the chicken especially; didn’t want to take another trip to the room.
emergency But my head was spinning, trying to every
analyze word Edward had spoken today. What did he mean, it was better if we My
weren’t friends? stomach twisted as I realized what he must have meant. He must see how absorbed I was by him; he
must not want to lead me on… so we couldn’t even be friends… because he wasn’t interested in me at all. Of course he wasn’t interested in me, I thought angrily, my eyes stinging—a to
delayed reaction the onions. I wasn’t interesting. And he was. Interesting… and brilliant… and and
mysterious… perfect… and beautiful… and possibly able to one
lift full-sized vans with hand. Well, that was fine. I could leave him
alone. I would leave him alone. I would get my
through self-imposed sentence here in purgatory, and then hopefully some school in the
Southwest, or possibly Hawaii, would offer me a
scholarship. I focused my thoughts on sunny beaches as
and palm trees I finished the enchiladas and put them in the oven. Charlie seemed when
suspicious he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn’t blame him—the closest
edible Mexican food was probably in southern California. But he was a cop, even if just a cop,
small-town so he was brave enough to take the first
bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch
as he slowly began trusting me in the kitchen. “Dad?” I asked when he
was almost done. “Yeah, Bella?” “Um, I just wanted to let
you know that I’m going to Seattle for the day a week from Saturday… if that’s okay?” I didn’t want to ask it
permission— set a bad precedent— but I felt rude, so I tacked it on at the end. “Why?” He sounded surprised, as if he to
were unable imagine something that Forks couldn’t offer. “Well, I wanted to get a few books—the is
library here pretty limited—and maybe look at some clothes.” I had more money than I to
was used having, since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn’t had to
pay for a car. Not that the truck didn’t cost me quite a
bit in the gas department. “That truck probably doesn’t get very gas
good mileage,” he said, echoing my thoughts. “I know, I’ll stop in Montesano and Olympia—and if
Tacoma I have to.” “Are you going all by yourself?” he asked, and I couldn’t tell if he was I
suspicious had a secret boyfriend or just worried about car trouble. “Yes.” “Seattle is a big city—you could get
lost,” he fretted. “Dad, Phoenix is five times I
the size of Seattle—and can read a map, don’t worry about it.” “Do you want me to
come with you?” I tried to be crafty as I hid my horror. “That’s all right, Dad, I’ll probably be
just in dressing rooms all day—very boring.” “Oh, okay.” The thought of sitting in for
women’s clothing stores any period of time immediately put him off. “Thanks.” I smiled at him. “Will you be back in time for the dance?” Grrr. Only in a town this small would a
father know when the high school dances were. “No—I don’t dance, Dad.” He, of all people, should understand that—I
didn’t get my balance problems from my mother. He did understand. “Oh, that’s right,” he realized. The next morning, when I the
pulled into parking lot, I deliberately parked as far as possible
from the silver Volvo. I didn’t want to put myself in the path
of too much temptation and end up owing him a new car. Getting out of the
cab, I fumbled with my key and it fell into a
puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a white hand flashed out and grabbed it I
before could. I jerked upright. Edward Cullen was right
next to me, leaning casually against my truck. “How
do you do that?” I asked in amazed irritation. “Do what?” He held my key out as he spoke. As I reached for it, he dropped it into
my palm. “Appear out of thin air.” “Bella, it’s not my fault if you are
exceptionally unobservant.” His voice was quiet as usual— velvet, muted. I scowled at his perfect face. His eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey color. Then I had to
look down, to reassemble my now-tangled thoughts.
“Why the traffic jam last night?” I demanded, still looking away. “I you to
thought were supposed be pretending I don’t exist, not irritating me to death.” “That was
for Tyler’s sake, not mine. I had to give him his chance.” He snickered. “You…” I gasped. I think
couldn’t of a bad enough word. It felt like the heat of my anger should
physically burn him, but he only seemed more amused. “And I’m not pretending you don’t exist,” he continued. “So you are trying to me to
irritate death? Since Tyler’s van didn’t do the job?” Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humor gone. “Bella, you are utterly absurd,” he said, his low voice cold. My palms tingled—I so
wanted badly to hit something. I was surprised at myself. I was usually
a nonviolent person. I turned my back and started to walk away. “Wait,” he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he
was next to me, easily keeping pace. “I’m sorry, that was
rude,” he said as we walked. I ignored him. “I’m not saying it isn’t true,” he continued, “but it was rude to say it, anyway.” “Why won’t you leave me alone?” I grumbled. “I wanted to ask you
something, but you sidetracked me,” he chuckled. He seemed to have recovered his good
humor. “Do you have a multiple personality
disorder?” I asked severely. “You’re doing it again.” I sighed. “Fine then. What do you want to
ask?” “I was wondering if, a week from know,
Saturday—you the day of the spring dance—” “Are you trying to be funny?” I interrupted him, wheeling toward him. My face got drenched as I looked up at
his expression. His eyes were wickedly amused. “Will you
please allow me to finish?” I bit my lip and clasped my hands
together, interlocking my fingers, so I couldn’t do
anything rash. “I heard you say you were going to that
Seattle day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride.” That was unexpected. “What?” I wasn’t he
sure what was getting at. “Do you want a ride to Seattle?” “With who?” I asked, mystified. “Myself, obviously.” He enunciated every syllable,
as if he were talking to someone mentally handicapped. I was still stunned. “Why?” “Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the
next few weeks, and, to be honest, I’m not sure if your
truck can make it.” “My truck works just fine, thank you very
much for your concern.” I started to walk again, but I was too to
surprised maintain the same level of anger. “But can your truck make it there
on one tank of gas?” He matched my pace again. “I don’t see is
how that any of your business.” Stupid, shiny Volvo owner. “The wasting
of finite resources is everyone’s business.” “Honestly, Edward.” I felt a thrill go me
through as I said his name, and I hated it. “I can’t keep up with you. I thought you didn’t want to be my
friend.” “I said it would be better if we weren’t
friends, not that I didn’t want to be.” “Oh, thanks, now that’s all cleared up.” Heavy sarcasm. I realized I had stopped
walking again. We were under the shelter of the roof
cafeteria now, so I could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn’t help my clarity of
thought. “It would be more… prudent for you not
to be my friend,” he explained. “But I’m tired of trying to
stay away from you, Bella.” His eyes were gloriously intense
as he uttered that last sentence, his voice smoldering. I couldn’t remember
how to breathe. “Will you go with me to Seattle?” he asked, still intense. I couldn’t speak
yet, so I just nodded. He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious. “You really should stay away from me,” he warned. “I’ll see you in class.” He turned abruptly and walked back the
way we’d come. CHAPTER 5 BLOOD TYPE. blood type, twilight bella
faints, twilight edward protects bella, twilight
biology class, twilight high school scene. A biology —
class blood test leaves Bella fainting Edward protects in Twilight speed scene. I made my way to in
english a daze. i didn’t even realize when I first walked
in that class had already started. “Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan,” Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone. I flushed and hurried to my seat. It wasn’t till class ended that I Mike in
realized wasn’t sitting his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door
as usual, so I figured I wasn’t totally unforgiven. Mike seemed to become more himself as we
walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the
weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor
break, and so maybe his beach trip would be
possible. I tried to sound eager, to make up for
disappointing him yesterday. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high
forties, if we were lucky. The rest of the morning
passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe that I hadn’t
just imagined what Edward had said, and the way his eyes had looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream
that I’d confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that I to
really appealed him on any level. So I was impatient and frightened as and
Jessica I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see his face, to see if he’d gone back to the cold, indifferent person I’d known for the last
several weeks. Or if, by some miracle, I’d really heard
what I thought I’d heard this morning. Jessica babbled on and on about her dance
plans—Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together— unaware
completely of my inattention. Disappointment flooded through me as my
eyes unerringly focused on his table. The other four were there, but he was
absent. Had he gone home? I followed the still-
babbling Jessica through the line, crushed. I’d lost my appetite—I bought a
nothing but bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to go sit down and sulk. “Edward Cullen is staring at you again,” Jessica said, finally breaking through my
abstraction with his name. “I wonder why he’s sitting alone today.” My head snapped up. I followed her gaze
to see Edward, smiling crookedly, staring at me from an
empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he’d caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his
index finger for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked. “Does he mean you?” Jessica asked with in
insulting astonishment her voice. “Maybe he needs help with his Biology
homework,” I muttered for her benefit. “Um, I’d better go see what he wants.” I could feel her staring after me as I
walked away. When I reached his table, I stood behind
the chair across from him, unsure. “Why don’t you sit with me today?” he asked, smiling. I sat down
automatically, watching him with caution. He was still
smiling. It was hard to believe that someone so be
beautiful could real. I was afraid that he might disappear in a
sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up. He seemed to be for
waiting me to say something. “This is different,” I finally managed. “Well…” He paused, and then the rest of
the words followed in a rush. “I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.” I waited for him to say something that
made sense. The seconds ticked by. “You know I don’t
have any idea what you mean,” I eventually pointed out. “I know.” He smiled again, and then he changed the
subject. “I think your friends are angry with me
for stealing you.” “They’ll survive.” I could feel their my
stares boring into back. “I may not give you back, though,” he said with a wicked glint in
his eyes. I gulped. He laughed. “You look worried.” “No,” I said, but, ridiculously, my voice
broke. “Surprised, actually… what brought all
this on?” “I told you—I got tired of trying to stay
away from you. So I’m giving up.” He was still smiling, but his ocher eyes were serious. “Giving up?” I repeated in confusion. “Yes—giving up trying to be good. I’m just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may.” His smile faded as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice. “You lost me again.” The breathtaking
crooked smile reappeared. “I always say too much when I’m talking
to you—that’s one of the problems.” “Don’t worry—I don’t understand any of
it,” I said wryly. “I’m counting on that.” “So, in plain English, are we friends
now?” “Friends… ,” he mused, dubious. “Or
not,” I muttered. He grinned. “Well, we can try, I suppose. But I’m warning you now that a
I’m not good friend for you.” Behind his smile, the warning was real. “You say that a lot,” I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in
my stomach and keep my voice even. “Yes, because you’re not listening to me. I’m still waiting for you to believe it. If you’re smart, you’ll avoid me.” “I think you’ve made your opinion on the
subject of my intellect clear, too.” My eyes narrowed. He smiled
apologetically. “So, as long as I’m being… not smart, we’ll try to be friends?” I struggled to sum up the confusing
exchange. “That sounds about right.” I looked down
at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now. “What are you thinking?” he asked
curiously. I looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted
out the truth. “I’m trying to figure out what you are.” His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile
in place with some effort. “Are you having any luck with that?” he asked in an offhand tone. “Not too much,” I admitted. He chuckled. “What are your theories?” I blushed. I had been vacillating during the last
month between Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker. There was no way I was going to own up to
that. “Won’t you tell me?” he asked, tilting his head to one side with a
shockingly tempting smile. I shook my head. “Too embarrassing.” “That’s really frustrating, you know,” he
complained. “No,” I disagreed quickly, my eyes
narrowing, “I can’t imagine why that would be at to
frustrating all—just because someone refuses tell you what they’re thinking, even if all the to
while they’re making cryptic little remarks specifically designed keep you up at night wondering what they
could possibly mean… now, why would that be frustrating?” He grimaced. “Or better,” I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, “say that person also did a wide range of
bizarre things—from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you a
like pariah the next, and he never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non- frustrating.” “You’ve got a bit of a temper, don’t you?” “I don’t like double
standards.” We stared at each other, unsmiling. He glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered. “What?” “Your
boyfriend seems to think I’m being unpleasant to you—he’s debating whether or not to come break up our fight.” He snickered again. “I don’t know who
you’re talking about,” I said frostily. “But I’m sure you’re
wrong, anyway.” “I’m not. I told you, most people are easy to read.” “Except me, of course.” “Yes. Except for
you.” His mood shifted suddenly; his eyes
turned brooding. “I wonder why that is.” I had to look the
away from intensity of his stare. I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of
my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table it.
without seeing “Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, distracted. “No.” I didn’t feel like mentioning that
my stomach was already full—of butterflies. “You?” I looked at the empty table in of
front him. “No, I’m not hungry.” I didn’t understand
his expression— it looked like he was enjoying some private joke. “Can you do me a favor?” I asked after a second of hesitation. He was suddenly wary. “That depends on
what you want.” “It’s not much,” I assured him. He waited, guarded but curious. “I just
wondered… if you could warn me beforehand the next
time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I’m prepared.” I looked at the lemonade bottle as I
spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my
pinkie finger. “That sounds fair.” He was pressing his I
lips together to keep from laughing when looked up. “Thanks.” “Then can I have one answer
in return?” he demanded. “One.” “Tell me one theory.” Whoops. “Not that one.” “You didn’t
qualify, you just promised one answer,” he me.
reminded “And you’ve broken promises yourself,” I
reminded him back. “Just one theory—I won’t laugh.” “Yes, you will.” I was positive about that. He looked down, and then glanced up at me
through his long black lashes, his ocher eyes scorching. “Please?” he
breathed, leaning toward me. I blinked, my mind
going blank. Holy crow, how did he do that? “Er, what?” I asked, dazed. “Please tell me
just one little theory.” His eyes still smoldered at me. “Um, well, bitten by a radioactive
spider?” Was he a hypnotist, too? Or was I just a
hopeless pushover? “That’s not very creative,” he scoffed. “I’m sorry, that’s all I’ve
got,” I said, miffed. “You’re not even close,” he teased. “No spiders?” “Nope.” “And no
radioactivity?” “None.” “Dang,” I sighed. “Kryptonite me,
doesn’t bother either,” he chuckled. “You’re not to
supposed laugh, remember?” He struggled to compose his
face. “I’ll figure it out eventually,” I warned
him. “I wish you wouldn’t try.” He was serious
again. “Because… ?” “What if I’m not a What if
superhero? I’m the bad guy?” He smiled playfully, but his eyes were
impenetrable. “Oh,” I said, as several things he’d fell
hinted suddenly into place. “I see.” “Do you?” His face was abruptly
severe, as if he were afraid that he’d said too
accidentally much. “You’re dangerous?” I guessed, my pulse I
quickening as intuitively realized the truth of my own words. He was dangerous. He’d been trying
to tell me that all along. He just looked at me, eyes full of some I
emotion couldn’t comprehend. “But not bad,” I whispered, shaking my
head. “No, I don’t believe that you’re bad.” “You’re wrong.” His voice was almost
inaudible. He looked down, stealing my bottle lid it
and then spinning on its side between his fingers. I stared at him, wondering why I
didn’t feel afraid. He meant what he was saying—that was
obvious. But I just felt anxious, on edge… and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was
near him. The silence lasted until I noticed that
the cafeteria was almost empty. I jumped to my feet. “We’re going to be
late.” “I’m not going to class today,” he said, twirling the lid so fast it was
just a blur. “Why not?” “It’s healthy to ditch class
now and then.” He smiled up at me, but his eyes were
still troubled. “Well, I’m going,” I told him. I was far too big a coward to risk
getting caught. He turned his attention back to his top.
makeshift “I’ll see you later, then.” I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me out
hurrying the door—with a last glance confirming that he hadn’t moved a centimeter. As I half-ran to class, my head was than
spinning faster the bottle cap. So few questions had been answered in to
comparison how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped. I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn’t in the yet
room when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela were at
staring me. Mike looked resentful; Angela looked
surprised, and slightly awed. Mr. Banner came in the
room then, calling the class to order. He was a few
juggling small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Mike’s table, telling him to start passing them around
the class. “Okay, guys, I want you all to take one
piece from each box,” he said as he produced a pair of rubber
gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on. The sharp as
sound the gloves snapped into place against his wrists seemed ominous to me. “The first
should be an indicator card,” he went on, grabbing a white card with on
four squares marked it and displaying it. “The second is a four-pronged applicator—” he held up something that looked like a
nearly toothless hair pick “—and the third is a sterile micro- lancet.” He held up a of
small piece blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this
distance, but my stomach flipped. “I’ll be coming a
around with dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don’t start until I get
to you.” He began at Mike’s table again, carefully putting one drop of water in of
each the four squares. “Then I want you to carefully prick your
finger with the lancet….” He grabbed Mike’s hand and jabbed the the
spike into tip of Mike’s middle finger. Oh no. Clammy moisture broke out across
my forehead. “Put a small drop of blood on each of the
prongs.” He demonstrated, squeezing Mike’s finger
till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach
heaving. “And then apply it to the card,” he finished, holding up the dripping red
card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through
the ringing in my ears. “The Red Cross is having a blood drive in
Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your
blood type.” He sounded proud of himself. “Those of a
you who aren’t eighteen yet will need parent’s permission—I have slips at my desk.” He continued through the room with his
water drops. I put my cheek against the cool black and
tabletop tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear
squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates
skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my
mouth. “Bella, are you all right?” Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my
head, and it sounded alarmed. “I already know
my blood type, Mr. Banner,” I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head. “Are you feeling faint?” “Yes, sir,” I muttered, internally kicking myself for
not ditching when I had the chance. “Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?” he called. I didn’t have to look
up to know that it would be Mike who volunteered. “Can you walk?” Mr. Banner asked. “Yes,” I whispered. Just me
let get out of here, I thought. I’ll crawl. Mike seemed eager
as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way
out of the classroom. Mike towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the
cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner was watching, I stopped. “Just let
me sit for a minute, please?” I begged. He helped me sit on of
the edge the walk. “And whatever you do, keep your hand in
your pocket,” I warned. I was still so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my
eyes. That seemed to help a little. “Wow, you’re green, Bella,” Mike said
nervously. “Bella?” a different voice called from
the distance. No! Please let me be imagining that
horribly familiar voice. “What’s wrong—is she hurt?” His voice was
closer now, and he sounded upset. I wasn’t imagining
it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up. Mike seemed stressed. “I think she’s
fainted. I don’t know what happened, she didn’t
even stick her finger.” “Bella.” Edward’s voice was right beside
me, relieved now. “Can you hear me?” “No,” I groaned. “Go away.” He chuckled. “I was taking her to the nurse,” Mike explained in a defensive tone, “but she wouldn’t go any farther.” “I’ll take her,” Edward said. I could the
hear smile still in his voice. “You can go back to class.” “No,” Mike protested. “I’m supposed to do
it.” Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from
beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Edward had scooped me up in his arms, as easily as if I weighed ten pounds of a
instead hundred and ten. “Put me down!” Please, please let me not
vomit on him. He was walking before I was finished
talking. “Hey!” Mike called, already ten paces us.
behind Edward ignored him. “You look awful,” he told me, grinning. “Put me back on the
sidewalk,” I moaned. The rocking movement of his was
walk not helping. He held me away from his body, gingerly, supporting all my weight with
just his arms—it didn’t seem to bother him. “So you faint at the sight of blood?” he asked. This seemed to entertain him. I didn’t answer. I closed my eyes again
and fought the nausea with all my strength, clamping my lips together. “And not even
your own blood,” he continued, enjoying himself. I don’t
know how he opened the door while carrying me, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we
were inside. “Oh my,” I heard a female voice gasp. “She fainted in Biology,” Edward
explained. I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Edward was striding past the front
counter toward the nurse’s door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office
receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a
novel, astonished, as Edward swung me into the
room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on
the one cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall
as far across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited. “She’s a
just little faint,” he reassured the startled nurse. “They’re
blood typing in Biology.” The nurse nodded sagely. “There’s always
one.” He muffled a snicker. “Just lie down for
a minute, honey; it’ll pass.” “I know,” I sighed. The nausea was already fading. “Does this
happen a lot?” she asked. “Sometimes,” I admitted. to
Edward coughed hide another laugh. “You can go back to class now,” she told him. “I’m supposed to stay with
her.” He said this with such assured authority
that—even though she pursed her lips—the nurse didn’t argue it further. “I’ll go get you some ice for
your forehead, dear,” she said to me, and then bustled
out of the room. “You were right,” I moaned, letting my
eyes close. “I usually am—but about what in this
particular time?” “Ditching is healthy.” I practiced
breathing evenly. “You scared me for a minute there,” he admitted after a pause. His tone made
it sound like he was confessing a humiliating weakness. “I thought Newton was dragging
your dead body off to bury it in the woods.” “Ha ha.” I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every
minute. “Honestly— I’ve seen corpses with better
color. I was concerned that I might have to your
avenge murder.” “Poor Mike. I’ll bet he’s mad.” “He absolutely loathes me,” Edward said
cheerfully. “You can’t know that,” I argued, but then I wondered suddenly if he could. “I saw his face—I could tell.” “How did you see me? I thought you were
ditching.” I was almost fine now, though the would
queasiness probably pass faster if I’d eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky my stomach was empty. “I was in my car, listening to a CD.” Such a normal response—it surprised me. I heard the door and opened my eyes to a
see the nurse with cold compress in her hand. “Here you go, dear.” She laid it across my forehead. “You’re looking better,” she added. “I
think I’m fine,” I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing
in my ears, no spinning. The mint green walls stayed
where they should. I could see she was about to make me lie
back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in. “We’ve got another one,” she warned. I hopped down to free up the cot for the
next invalid. I handed the compress back to the nurse. “Here, I don’t need this.” And then Mike
staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow- looking Lee
Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Edward and I drew back against the wall
to give them room. “Oh no,” Edward muttered. “Go out to the
office, Bella.” I looked up at him, bewildered. “Trust me—go.” I spun and the
caught door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could me.
feel Edward right behind “You actually listened to me.” He was
stunned. “I smelled the blood,” I said, wrinkling my nose. Lee wasn’t sick from
watching other people, like me. “People can’t smell blood,” he contradicted. “Well, I can—that’s what
makes me sick. It smells like rust… and salt.” He was staring at me with an unfathomable
expression. “What?” I asked. “It’s nothing.” Mike the
came through door then, glancing from me to Edward. The look he
gave Edward confirmed what Edward had said about loathing. He looked back at me, his eyes glum. “You look better,” he accused. “Just keep your hand in your
pocket,” I warned him again. “It’s not bleeding
anymore,” he muttered. “Are you going back to
class?” “Are you kidding? I’d just have to turn
around and come back.” “Yeah, I guess…. So are you going this
weekend? To the beach?” While he spoke, he flashed another glare
toward Edward, who was standing against the cluttered
counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off
into space. I tried to sound as friendly as possible. “Sure, I said I was in.” “We’re meeting at my dad’s store, at ten.” His eyes flickered to Edward
again, wondering if he was giving out too much
information. His body language made it clear that it
wasn’t an open invitation. “I’ll be there,” I promised. “I’ll see in
you Gym, then,” he said, moving uncertainly toward
the door. “See you,” I replied. He looked at me
once more, his round face slightly pouting, and then
as he walked slowly through the door, his shoulders slumped. A swell of washed
sympathy over me. I pondered seeing his disappointed face
again… in Gym. “Gym,” I groaned. “I can take of
care that.” I hadn’t noticed Edward moving to my side, but he spoke now in my ear. “Go sit down and look pale,” he muttered. That wasn’t a challenge; I
was always pale, and my recent swoon had left a light of
sheen sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs
and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells me.
always exhausted I heard Edward speaking softly at the
counter. “Ms. Cope?” “Yes?” I hadn’t heard her to
return her desk. “Bella has Gym next hour, and I don’t she
think feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take
her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from
class?” His voice was like melting honey. I could imagine how much more his eyes
overwhelming would be. “Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?” Ms. Cope fluttered. Why I
couldn’t do that? “No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won’t mind.” “Okay, it’s all taken care of. You feel better, Bella,” she called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit. “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry
you again?” With his back to the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic. “I’ll
walk.” I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held the door for me, his smile polite but his eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice—the first time I’d enjoyed
the constant moisture falling out of the sky—as it washed my face clean of the sticky
perspiration. “Thanks,” I said as he followed me out. “It’s almost worth getting sick to miss
Gym.” “Anytime.” He was staring straight
forward, squinting into the rain. “So are you This
going? Saturday, I mean?” I was hoping he would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn’t him
picture loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn’t belong in
the same world. But just hoping that he might gave me the
first twinge of enthusiasm I’d felt for the outing. “Where are you all going, exactly?” He was still looking ahead, expressionless. “Down to La Push, to
First Beach.” I studied his face, trying to read it. His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally. He glanced down at me from the corner of
his eye, smiling wryly. “I really don’t think I
was invited.” I sighed. “I just invited you.” “Let’s you and I not push poor Mike any
further this week. We don’t want him to snap.” His eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea
more than he should. “Mike- schmike,” I muttered, preoccupied
by the way he’d said “you and I.” I liked it more than I should. We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck. Something caught my jacket, yanking me
back. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, outraged. He was gripping a of
fistful my jacket in one hand. I was confused. “I’m going home.” “Didn’t you hear me promise to take you
safely home? Do you think I’m going to let you drive in your condition?” His voice was still indignant. “What And
condition? what about my truck?” I complained. “I’ll have Alice drop it
off after school.” He was towing me toward his car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I do
could to keep from falling backward. He’d probably just drag me along anyway I
if did. “Let go!” I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet
sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me—I stumbled the
against passenger door. “You are so pushy!” I grumbled. “It’s open,” was all he responded. He got in the driver’s side. “I am perfectly capable of driving myself
home!” I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I’d never
put my hood up, so my hair was dripping down my back. He lowered the automatic window and me
leaned toward across the seat. “Get in, Bella.” I didn’t answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of
reaching the truck before he could catch me. I had to admit, they weren’t good. “I’ll just drag you back,” he threatened, guessing my plan. I tried to maintain I I
what dignity could as got into his car. I wasn’t very successful—I looked a
like half-drowned cat and my boots squeaked. “This is completely unnecessary,” I said
stiffly. He didn’t answer. He fiddled with the
controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give him the silent in
treatment—my face full pout mode—but then I recognized the music playing, and my got
curiosity the better of my intentions. “Clair de Lune?” I asked, surprised. “You know Debussy?” He sounded surprised, too. “Not well,” I admitted. “My mother a
plays lot of classical music around the house—I only know my favorites.” “It’s one of my
favorites, too.” He stared out through the rain, lost in thought. I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather
seat. It was impossible not to respond to the
familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred outside
everything the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize we were driving very
fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn’t feel the
speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away. “What is your mother like?” he asked me
suddenly. I glanced over to see him studying me
with curious eyes. “She looks a lot like me, but she’s prettier,” I said. He raised
his eyebrows. “I have too much Charlie in me. She’s more outgoing than I am, and braver. She’s irresponsible and
slightly eccentric, and she’s a very unpredictable cook. She’s my best friend.” I stopped. Talking about her was making me depressed. “How old are you, Bella?” His voice for I
sounded frustrated some reason couldn’t imagine. He’d stopped the car, and I realized we
were at Charlie’s house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely
see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a
river. “I’m seventeen,” I responded, a little
confused. “You don’t seem seventeen.” His tone was
reproachful; it made me laugh. “What?” he asked, curious again. “My mom
always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year.” I laughed, and then sighed. “Well, someone has to be the adult.” I paused for a second. “You don’t seem a
much like junior in high school yourself,” I noted. He made a face and changed the
subject. “So why did your mother marry Phil?” I was surprised he would remember the I’d
name; mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took me a to
moment answer. “My mother… she’s very young for her
age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she’s crazy about him.” I shook my head. The attraction was a to
mystery me. “Do you approve?” he asked. “Does it
matter?” I countered. “I want her to be happy… and he is who she wants.” “That’s very generous…. I wonder,” he
mused. “What?” “Would she extend the same to
courtesy you, do you think? No matter who your choice
was?” He was suddenly intent, his eyes mine.
searching “I-I think so,” I stuttered. “But she’s
the parent, after all. It’s a little bit different.” “No one too scary then,” he teased. I grinned in response. “What do you mean
by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?” “That’s one definition, I suppose.” your
“What’s definition?” But he ignored my question and asked me
another. “Do you think that I could be scary?” He raised one eyebrow, and the faint of a
trace smile lightened his face. I thought for a moment, wondering whether
the truth or a lie would go over better. I decided to go with the truth. “Hmmm… I think you could be, if you wanted to.” “Are you frightened of
me now?” The smile vanished, and his heavenly face
was suddenly serious. “No.” But I answered too quickly. The smile returned. “So, now are you to
going tell me about your family?” I asked to distract him. “It’s got to be
a much more interesting story than mine.” He was instantly cautious. “What do you
want to know?” “The Cullens adopted you?” I verified. “Yes.” I hesitated for a moment. “What happened to your parents?” “They
died many years ago.” His tone was matter-of- fact. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I don’t really remember them
that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents a
for long time now.” “And you love them.” It wasn’t a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of
them. “Yes.” He smiled. “I couldn’t imagine two
better people.” “You’re very lucky.” “I know I am.” “And your brother and sister?” He glanced
at the clock on the dashboard. “My brother and sister, and Jasper and
Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have
to stand in the rain waiting for me.” “Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go.” I didn’t want to get out of the car. “And you probably want your truck back
before Chief Swan gets home, so you don’t have to tell him about the
Biology incident.” He grinned at me. “I’m sure he’s already
heard. There are no secrets in Forks.” I sighed. He laughed, and there was an to
edge his laughter. “Have fun at the beach… good weather
for sunbathing.” He glanced out at the sheeting rain. “Won’t I see you tomorrow?” “No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend
early.” “What are you going to do?” A friend could ask that, right? I hoped
the disappointment wasn’t too apparent in my voice. “We’re going to be hiking in the Goat
Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier.” I remembered had
Charlie said the Cullens went camping frequently. “Oh, well, have fun.” I tried to sound
enthusiastic. I don’t think I fooled him, though. A smile was playing around the of
edges his lips. “Will you do something for me this
weekend?” He turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning
gold eyes. I nodded helplessly. “Don’t be offended, but you seem to be one of those people a
who just attract accidents like magnet. So… try not to fall into the ocean or
get run over or anything, all right?” He smiled crookedly. The had
helplessness faded as he spoke. I glared at him. “I’ll see what I can do,” I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. I slammed the door behind me with force.
excessive He was still smiling as he drove away. Did this chapter hook you? Smash that us
like button! Your support keeps going. Let’s read on! CHAPTER 6 SCARY STORIES. la push, twilight jacob
black legends, twilight quileute stories, twilight
vampire myths, twilight scary stories. Jacob Black’s at
Quileute legends hint vampire truth in Twilight fast reading. As i sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of
Macbeth, I was really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the rain,
pounding I could have heard the engine’s roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain—
again—it was suddenly there. I wasn’t looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-
expectations. Of course there were the fainting
comments. Jessica especially seemed to get a kick
out of that story. Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward’s
involvement. She did have a lot of questions about
lunch, though. “So what did Edward Cullen want
yesterday?” Jessica asked in Trig. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “He never really
got to the point.” “You looked kind of mad,” she fished. “Did I?” I kept my expression blank. “You know, I’ve never seen him sit with
anyone but his family before. That was weird.” “Weird,” I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark
curls impatiently— I guessed she’d been hoping to hear something that would make a good story to
for her pass on. The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn’t going to be
there, I still hoped. When I walked into the and
cafeteria with Jessica Mike, I couldn’t keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat
talking, heads close together. And I couldn’t stop
the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn’t know how long I would have to wait
before I saw him again. At my usual table, everyone was full of
our plans for the next day. Mike was animated again, putting a great
deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I’d have to see that before
I believed it. But it was warmer today—almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn’t be completely
miserable. I intercepted a few unfriendly glances
from Lauren during lunch, which I didn’t understand until we were
all walking out of the room together. I was right behind her, just a foot from
her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently
unaware of that. “… don’t know why Bella”—she sneered my
name— “doesn’t just sit with the Cullens from now on,” I heard her muttering to Mike. I’d never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice she had, and I was surprised
by the malice in it. I really didn’t know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to so
dislike me—or I’d thought. “She’s my friend; she sits with us,” Mike whispered back loyally, but also a
bit territorially. I paused to let Jess and Angela pass me. I didn’t want to hear any more. That night at dinner, Charlie seemed my
enthusiastic about trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me on
home alone the weekends, but he’d spent too many years building to
his habits break them now. Of course he knew the names of all the
kids going, and their parents, and their great-
grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan
to ride to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him. “Dad, do you know a place called Goat or
Rocks something like that? I think it’s south of Mount Rainier,” I asked casually. “Yeah—why?” I shrugged. “Some kids were
talking about camping there.” “It’s not a very good place for camping.” He sounded surprised. “Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting
season.” “Oh,” I murmured. “Maybe I got the name
wrong.” I meant to sleep in, but an unusual woke
brightness me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow my
light streaming through window. I couldn’t believe it. I hurried to the
window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn’t seem to be as as
close it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large of
patch blue was visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I
could, afraid that if I left the blue would
disappear again. The Newtons’ Olympic Outfitters store was
just north of town. I’d seen the store, but I’d never stopped
there—not having much need for any supplies required for being outdoors over an extended of
period time. In the parking lot I recognized Mike’s
Suburban and Tyler’s Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around in
front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two other boys
I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was there, flanked by Angela and
Lauren. Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered falling over
in Gym on Friday. That one gave me a dirty look as I got of
out the truck, and whispered something to Lauren. Lauren
shook out her cornsilk hair and eyed me scornfully. So it was going to be one of those days. At least Mike was happy to see me. “You came!” he called, delighted. “And I
said it would be sunny today, didn’t I?” “I told you I was coming,” I reminded him. “We’re just waiting for
Lee and Samantha… unless you invited someone,” Mike added. “Nope,” I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn’t
get caught in the lie. But also wishing that a miracle would
occur, and Edward would appear. Mike looked
satisfied. “Will you ride in my car? It’s that or
Lee’s mom’s minivan.” “Sure.” He smiled blissfully. It was so
easy to make Mike happy. “You can have shotgun,” he promised. I hid my chagrin. It wasn’t as simple to
make Mike and Jessica happy at the same time. I could see Jessica glowering
at us now. The numbers worked out in my favor, though. Lee brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess in between Mike
and me in the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could have been more about
graceful it, but at least Jess seemed appeased. It was only fifteen miles to La Push from
Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging
the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice. I was I
glad had the window seat. We’d rolled the windows down—the Suburban
was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it—and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as
possible. I’d been to the beaches around La Push my
many times during Forks summers with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach
was familiar to me. It was still breathtaking. The water was
dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and to
heaving the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the with
steel harbor waters sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned
with austere, soaring firs. The beach had only a thin
border of actual sand at the water’s edge, after which it grew into millions of
large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray
from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone be:
could terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge trees,
driftwood bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of
the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just out of reach of
the waves. There was a brisk wind coming off the
waves, cool and briny. Pelicans floated on the a
swells while seagulls and lone eagle wheeled above them. The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment, but for now the sun shone bravely in its
halo of blue sky. We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of logs
driftwood that had obviously been used for parties like ours before. There was a in
fire circle already place, filled with black ashes. Eric and the boy
I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against
the forest edge, and soon had a teepee- shaped built atop
construction the old cinders. “Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?” Mike asked me. I was sitting on one of
the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping excitedly, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one of
the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter. “No,” I said as he placed the blazing the
twig carefully against teepee. “You’ll like this then—watch the colors.” He lit another small branch and laid it
alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up the
dry wood. “It’s blue,” I said in surprise. “The salt does it. Pretty, isn’t it?” He lit one more piece, placed it where
the fire hadn’t yet caught, and then came to sit by me. Thankfully, Jess was on his other side. She turned to him and claimed his
attention. I watched the strange blue and green the
flames crackle toward sky. After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the
nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had me since
fascinated I was a child; they were one of the only things I ever looked to I
forward when had to come to Forks. On the other hand, I’d also fallen
into them a lot. Not a big deal when you’re seven and with
your dad. It reminded me of Edward’s request—that I
not fall into the ocean. Lauren was the one who made my decision
for me. She didn’t want to hike, and she was the
definitely wearing wrong shoes for it. Most of the other girls besides Angela to
and Jessica decided stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tyler and Eric had I
committed to remaining with them before got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave me a huge smile when he saw I
that was coming. The hike wasn’t too long, though I hated
to lose the sky in the woods. The green light of the forest was at odds
strangely with the adolescent laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony
with the light banter around me. I had to watch each step I took very
carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually I the
broke through emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low
tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its
way to the sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools
that never completely drained were teeming with life. I was very cautious not to lean too far
over the little ocean ponds. The others were fearless, leaping over
the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I a
found very stable- looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there
cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below
me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones in the
undulated ceaselessly invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish
stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white wove
racing stripes through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return. I was completely absorbed, except for one
small part of my mind that wondered what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what
he would be saying if he were here with me. Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. I tried to keep up better this time the
through woods, so naturally I fell a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my jeans were stained
green, but it could have been worse. When we got back to First Beach, the group we’d left behind had multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of
the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to
socialize. The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a share us
while Eric introduced as we each entered the driftwood circle. Angela and I were
the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the up
stones near the fire glance at me in interest. I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches and an of
array sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the oldest
of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with him. All I caught was that one of the girls
was also named Jessica, and the boy who noticed me was named
Jacob. It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she a
was restful kind of person to be around—she didn’t feel the need to fill
every silence with chatter. She left me free to think undisturbed we
while ate. And I was thinking about how disjointedly
time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more than
clearly others. And then, at other times, every second
was significant, etched in my mind. I knew exactly what
caused the difference, and it disturbed me. During lunch the to
clouds started advance, slinking across the blue sky, darting in
front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and blackening the waves. As they eating,
finished people started to drift away in twos and
threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy
surface. Others were gathering a second expedition
to the tide pools. Mike—with Jessica shadowing him—headed up
to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; on
others went along the hike. By the time they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with Lauren and Tyler occupying by the CD
themselves player someone had thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation
perched around the circle, including the boy named Jacob and the boy
oldest who had acted as spokesperson. A few minutes after Angela left with the
hikers, Jacob sauntered over to take her place by
my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and
had long, glossy black hair pulled back with a band
rubber at the nape of his neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-
colored; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his
cheekbones. He still had just a hint of childish left
roundness around his chin. Altogether, a very pretty face. However, my positive opinion of his looks was by
damaged the first words out of his mouth. “You’re Isabella Swan, aren’t you?” It of
was like the first day school all over again. “Bella,” I sighed. “I’m Jacob Black.” He held his hand out in a friendly
gesture. “You bought my dad’s truck.” “Oh,” I said, relieved, shaking his sleek hand. “You’re Billy’s son. I probably should
remember you.” “No, I’m the youngest of the family—you
would remember my older sisters.” “Rachel and Rebecca,” I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrown us together
a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all too shy to make much progress
as friends. Of course, I’d kicked up enough tantrums
to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven. “Are they here?” I examined
the girls at the ocean’s edge, wondering if I would recognize them now. “No.” Jacob shook his head. “Rachel got a
scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer—she
lives in Hawaii now.” “Married. Wow.” I was stunned. The twins
were only a little over a year older than I was. “So how do you like the truck?” he asked. “I love it. It runs great.” “Yeah, but it’s really slow,” he laughed. “I was so relieved when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn’t let me work on building a
another car when we had perfectly good vehicle right there.” “It’s not that
slow,” I objected. “Have you tried to go over
sixty?” “No,” I admitted. “Good. Don’t.” He
grinned. I couldn’t help grinning back. “It does a
great in collision,” I offered in my truck’s defense. “I don’t think a tank could take out that
old monster,” he agreed with another laugh. “So you
build cars?” I asked, impressed. “When I have free
time, and parts. You wouldn’t happen to know I
where could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?” he added jokingly. He had a pleasant, husky voice. “Sorry,” I laughed, “I seen
haven’t any lately, but I’ll keep my eyes open for you.” As if I knew what that was. He was very easy to talk with. He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at
me appreciatively in a way I was learning to recognize. I wasn’t the only one who
noticed. “You know Bella, Jacob?” Lauren asked—in
what I imagined was an insolent tone—from across the fire. “We’ve sort of known each other since I
was born,” he laughed, smiling at me again. “How nice.” She didn’t sound like she it
thought was nice at all, and her pale, fishy eyes narrowed. “Bella,” she called again, watching my
face carefully, “I was just saying to Tyler that it was
too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn’t anyone think to
invite them?” Her expression of concern was
unconvincing. “You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen’s family?” the tall, older boy asked before I could
respond, much to Lauren’s irritation. He was to a
really closer man than a boy, and his voice was very deep. “Yes, do you know them?” she asked
condescendingly, turning halfway toward him. “The Cullens
don’t come here,” he said in a tone that closed the subject, ignoring her question. Tyler, trying to
win back her attention, asked Lauren’s opinion on a CD he held. She was distracted. I stared at the boy,
deep-voiced taken aback, but he was looking away the
toward dark forest behind us. He’d said that the Cullens didn’t come
here, but his tone had implied something they
more—that weren’t allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on
me, and I tried to ignore it without success. Jacob interrupted my meditation. “So is
Forks driving you insane yet?” “Oh, I’d say that’s an understatement.” I grimaced. He grinned understandingly. I
was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a sudden inspiration. It was a stupid plan, but I didn’t have
any better ideas. I hoped that young Jacob was as yet
inexperienced around girls, so that he wouldn’t see through my at
sure-to-be- pitiful attempts flirting. “Do you want to walk down the beach with
me?” I asked, trying to imitate that way had
Edward of looking up from underneath his eyelashes. It couldn’t have nearly the same effect, I was sure, but Jacob jumped up willingly
enough. As we walked north across the multihued
stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across
the sky, causing the sea to darken and the to
temperature drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets
of my jacket. “So you’re, what, sixteen?” I asked, trying not to look like an idiot as I my
fluttered eyelids the way I’d seen girls do on TV. “I just turned fifteen,” he confessed, flattered. “Really?” My was
face full of false surprise. “I would have thought you were older.” “I’m tall for my age,” he explained. “Do you come up to Forks much?” I asked archly, as if I was hoping for a
yes. I sounded idiotic to myself. I was afraid
he would turn on me with disgust and accuse me of my fraud, but he still
seemed flattered. “Not too much,” he admitted with a frown. “But when I get my car finished I can go
up as much as I want—after I get my license,” he amended. “Who was that other boy Lauren was to? He
talking seemed a little old to be hanging out with us.” I purposefully in
lumped myself with the youngsters, trying to make it clear that I preferred
Jacob. “That’s Sam—he’s nineteen,” he informed
me. “What was that he was saying about the
doctor’s family?” I asked innocently. “The Cullens? Oh, they’re not supposed to come onto the
reservation.” He looked away, out toward James Island, as he confirmed what I’d thought I’d in
heard Sam’s voice. “Why not?” He glanced back at me, biting his lip. “Oops. I’m not supposed
to say anything about that.” “Oh, I won’t tell anyone, I’m just
curious.” I tried to make my smile alluring, wondering if I was laying it on too thick. He smiled back, though, looking allured. Then he lifted one eyebrow and his voice
was even huskier than before. “Do you like scary stories?” he asked
ominously. “I love them,” I enthused, making an to
effort smolder at him. Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree
that had its roots sticking out like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on one of the twisted
roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree. He stared down at the
rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his
broad lips. I could see he was going to try to make
this good. I focused on keeping the vital interest I
felt out of my eyes. “Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from—the Quileutes, I mean?” he began. “Not really,” I admitted. “Well, there are lots of
legends, some of them claiming to date back to the
Flood— supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes
to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark.” He smiled, to show me how little stock he
put in the histories. “Another legend claims that we descended
from wolves—and that the wolves are our brothers still. It’s against tribal law to kill them. “Then there are the stories about the
cold ones.” His voice dropped a little lower. “The cold ones?” I asked, not faking my
intrigue now. “Yes. There are stories of the cold ones
as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to
legend, my own great- grandfather knew some of
them. He was the one who made the treaty that
kept them off our land.” He rolled his eyes. “Your great-
grandfather?” I encouraged. “He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones of
are the natural enemies the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that
turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them
werewolves.” “Werewolves have enemies?” “Only one.” I
stared at him earnestly, hoping to disguise my impatience as
admiration. “So you see,” Jacob continued, “the cold
ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory
during my great- grandfather’s time was different. They didn’t hunt the way others of their
kind did—they weren’t supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great- grandfather made
a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our
lands, we wouldn’t expose them to the
pale-faces.” He winked at me. “If they weren’t
dangerous, then why… ?” I tried to understand, struggling not to let him see how I was
seriously considering his ghost story. “There’s always a risk for humans to be
around the cold ones, even if they’re civilized like this clan
was. You never know when they might get too to
hungry resist.” He deliberately worked a thick edge of
menace into his tone. “What do you mean, ‘civilized’?” “They
claimed that they didn’t hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey
on animals instead.” I tried to keep my voice casual. “So how does it fit in with the Cullens?
Are they like the cold ones your great- grandfather met?” “No.” He paused
dramatically. “They are the same ones.” He must have on
thought the expression my face was fear inspired by his story. He smiled, pleased, and continued. “There are more
of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my great- grandfather’s time they knew
already of the leader, Carlisle. He’d been here and gone before
your people had even arrived.” He was fighting a smile. “And what are
they?” I finally asked. “What are the cold ones?” He smiled darkly. “Blood drinkers,” he in
replied a chilling voice. “Your people call them vampires.” I out
stared at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my face was exposing. “You have goose bumps,” he laughed
delightedly. “You’re a good storyteller,” I him,
complimented still staring into the waves. “Pretty
crazy stuff, though, isn’t it? No wonder my dad want
doesn’t us to talk about it to anyone.” I couldn’t control my expression enough
to look at him yet. “Don’t worry, I won’t give you away.” “I guess I just violated the treaty,” he laughed. “I’ll take it to the grave,” I promised, and then I shivered. “Seriously, though, don’t say anything to
Charlie. He was pretty mad at my dad when he heard
that some of us weren’t going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started
working there.” “I won’t, of course not.” “So do you a of
think we’re bunch superstitious natives or what?” he asked in a playful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn’t looked away from the ocean. I turned and smiled at him as normally as
I could. “No. I think you’re very good at telling
scary stories, though. I still have goose bumps, see?” I held up my arm. “Cool.” He smiled. And then the sound of
the beach rocks clattering against each other warned us that someone was approaching. Our up
heads snapped at the same time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us. “There you are, Bella,” Mike called in relief, waving his
arm over his head. “Is that your boyfriend?” Jacob asked, alerted by the jealous edge in Mike’s
voice. I was surprised it was so obvious. “No, definitely not,” I whispered. I was
tremendously grateful to Jacob, and eager to make him as happy as
possible. I winked at him, carefully turning away
from Mike to do so. He smiled, elated by my inept flirting. “So when I get my license… ,” he began. “You should come see me in
Forks. We could hang out sometime.” I felt as I
guilty said this, knowing that I’d used him. But I really
did like Jacob. He was someone I could easily be friends
with. Mike had reached us now, with Jessica a
still few paces back. I could see his eyes appraising Jacob, and looking satisfied at his obvious
youth. “Where have you been?” he asked, though the answer was right in front of
him. “Jacob was just telling me some local
stories,” I volunteered. “It was really
interesting.” I smiled at Jacob warmly, and he grinned
back. “Well,” Mike paused, carefully the as he
reassessing situation watched our camaraderie. “We’re packing up—it looks like it’s to
going rain soon.” We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain. “Okay.” I jumped up. “I’m coming.” “It was nice to see you again,” Jacob said, and I could tell he was Mike
taunting just a bit. “It really was. Next time Charlie comes
down to see Billy, I’ll come, too,” I promised. His grin his
stretched across face. “That would be cool.” “And thanks,” I added earnestly. I pulled up my hood as
we tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were beginning
to fall, making black spots on the stones where
they landed. When we got to the Suburban the others
were already loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Angela and
Tyler, announcing that I’d already had my turn
in the shotgun position. Angela just stared out the window at the
escalating storm, and Lauren twisted around in the middle
seat to occupy Tyler’s attention, so I could simply lay my head back on the
seat and close my eyes and try very hard not to think. CHAPTER 7 NIGHTMARE. nightmare, bella dreams forest
edward, twilight dream, twilight jacob dream, twilight love fear. Bella dreams of Edward and Jacob in a
dark forest, fear grows in Twilight video book. I told charlie i had a lot of homework to
do, and that I didn’t want anything to eat. There was a basketball game on that he
was excited about, though of course I had no idea what was
special about it, so he wasn’t aware of anything unusual in
my face or tone. Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my
old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD
player. I picked up a CD that Phil had given to
me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and
shrieking for my tastes. I popped it into place and lay down on my
bed. I put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my
ears. I closed my eyes, but the light still
intruded, so I added a pillow over the top half of
my face. I concentrated very carefully on the
music, trying to understand the lyrics, to the
unravel complicated drum patterns. By the third time I’d listened through
the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I was surprised to find that I
really did like the band after all, once I got past the blaring noise. I’d have to thank Phil again. And it worked. The shattering beats made
it impossible for me to think—which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to CD
the again and again, until I was singing along with all the
songs, until, finally, I fell asleep. I opened a
my eyes to familiar place. Aware in some corner of my consciousness
that I was dreaming, I recognized the green light of the
forest. I could hear the waves crashing against
the rocks somewhere nearby. And I knew that if I found the ocean, I’d be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back the
toward blackest part of the forest. “Jacob? What’s wrong?” I asked. His face
was frightened as he yanked with all his strength against my resistance; I didn’t want to
go into the dark. “Run, Bella, you have to run!” he whispered, terrified. “This way,
Bella!” I recognized Mike’s voice calling out of
the gloomy heart of the trees, but I couldn’t see him. “Why?” I asked, still pulling against Jacob’s
grasp, desperate now to find the sun. But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim
forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched in
horror. “Jacob!” I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-brown wolf
with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on of
the back his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his
exposed fangs. “Bella, run!” Mike cried out again from
behind me. But I didn’t turn. I was watching a light
coming toward me from the beach. And then Edward stepped out from the
trees, his skin faintly glowing, his eyes black
and dangerous. He held up one hand and beckoned me to to
come him. The wolf growled at my feet. I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed. “Trust me,” he purred. I took
another step. The wolf launched himself across the me
space between and the vampire, fangs aiming for the jugular. “No!” I screamed, wrenching upright out of my
bed. My sudden movement caused the headphones
to pull the CD player off the bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor. My light was still on, and I was sitting
fully dressed on the bed, with my shoes on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was five-thirty in the morning. I groaned, fell back, and rolled over my
onto face, kicking off my boots. I was too to get
uncomfortable anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned
my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to
stay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of
my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the band
rubber out, quickly combing through the plaits with
my fingers. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes. It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly so
the images I’d been trying desperately to avoid. I was going to have to face them now. I sat up, and my head spun for a minute
as the blood flowed downward. First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as possible. I grabbed my bathroom bag. The shower as
didn’t last nearly long as I hoped it would, though. Even taking the time to my
blow-dry hair, I was soon out of things to do in the
bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my
room. I couldn’t tell if Charlie was still
asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again. I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats
and then made my bed— something I never did. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my old
computer. I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free just
service substandard; dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of I
cereal while waited. I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl and
spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing
it precisely in the center of the table. I pulled out the headphones, and put them
away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was
background noise. With another sigh, I turned to my
computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in ads.
pop-up I sat in my hard folding chair and began
closing all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite
search engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then
typed in one word. Vampire. It took an infuriatingly long
time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through— from and
everything movies TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic
companies. Then I found a promising site— Vampires
A–Z. I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that the
flashed across screen. Finally the screen was finished— simple
white background with black text, academic- looking. Two quotes greeted me
on the home page: Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so
terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither
ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and
possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both.—Rev. Montague Summers If there is in this a
world well- attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, of
affidavits well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates;
the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who in of
believes vampires?— Rousseau The rest the site was an alphabetized listing of all
the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly for on
responsible planting taro the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked
with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a
woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much it
that drained her body completely of blood. I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded
familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most
vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed to
like constructs created explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an
excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless and
spirits warnings against improper burials. There wasn’t much that sounded like the
movies I’d seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew and
Estrie the Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking
blood. Only three entries really caught my the
attention: Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear
as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a
creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici. About this last there was only one brief
sentence. Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, to
said be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires. It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed
the existence of good vampires. Overall, though, there was little that or
coincided with Jacob’s stories my own observations. I’d made a little catalogue in my mind as
I’d read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale
skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob’s
criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold- skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths
that matched even one factor. And then another problem, one that I’d of
remembered from the small number scary movies that I’d seen and was backed up by today’s out
reading— vampires couldn’t come in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came at
out only night. Aggravated, I snapped off the computer’s
main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly. Through my irritation, I felt
overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my
room, researching vampires. What was wrong with
me? I decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks—and the
entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter. I had to get out of the
house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that
didn’t involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went
downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without the
checking weather and stomped out the door. It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on
foot, angling across Charlie’s yard toward the
ever- encroaching forest. It didn’t take long till I was deep for
enough the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be of
the squish the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays. There was a thin ribbon of a trail that
led through the forest here, or I wouldn’t risk wandering on my own
like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I get
could lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail wound deeper and deeper into
the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and
the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only vaguely
knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie them to
pointing out me from the cruiser window in earlier days. There were many I
didn’t know, and others I couldn’t be sure about they
because were so covered in green parasites. I followed the trail as long as my anger
at myself pushed me forward. As that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down the
from canopy above me, but I couldn’t be certain if it was to or
beginning rain if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high
in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the
earth. A recently fallen tree—I knew it was it
recent because wasn’t entirely carpeted in moss—rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a
few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat
carefully, making sure my jacket was between the and
damp seat my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back against
the living tree. This was the wrong place to have come. I should have known, but where else was
there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last
night’s dream to allow for peace of mind. Now that there was no longer the of
sound my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were
quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone
could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not see me. Here in the trees it was much easier to
believe the absurdities that embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for of
thousands years, and all the myths and legends of a lands
hundred different seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my
clear-cut bedroom. I forced myself to focus on the two most
vital questions I had to answer, but I did so unwillingly. First, I had to decide if it was possible that
what Jacob had said about the Cullens could be true. Immediately my mind with a
responded resounding negative. It was silly and morbid to entertain such
ridiculous notions. But what, then? I asked myself. There was no rational explanation for how
I was alive at this moment. I listed again in my head the things I’d
observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold
and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, frigid skin. And more—small things that registered to
slowly—how they never seemed eat, the disturbing grace with which they
moved. And the way he sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that
better fit the style of a turn-of-the- century novel than that of a twenty-first -century classroom. He had skipped class the day we’d done
blood typing. He hadn’t said no to the beach trip till
he heard where we were going. He seemed to know what everyone around
him was thinking… except me. He had told me he was the
villain, dangerous…. Could the Cullens be Well,
vampires? they were something. Something outside of
the possibility rational justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes. Whether it be cold
Jacob’s ones or my own superhero theory, Edward Cullen was not… human. He was
something more. So then—maybe. That would have to be my
answer for now. And then the most important question of
all. What was I going to do if it was true? If
Edward was a vampire—I could hardly make myself think the words—then I
what should do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn’t even believe myself; anyone I
told would have me committed. Only two options seemed practical. The to
first was take his advice: to be smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go back to him as
ignoring far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably wall
thick glass between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell him to
leave me alone—and mean it this time. I was gripped in a sudden agony of as I
despair considered that alternative. My mind rejected the pain, quickly on to
skipping the next option. I could do nothing different. After all, if he was something… sinister, he’d to
done nothing hurt me so far. In fact, I would be a dent in Tyler’s if
fender he hadn’t acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could he be? I retorted. My head spun around in answerless circles. There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The dark Edward in my dream last night a
was reflection only of my fear of the word Jacob had spoken, and not Edward
himself. Even so, when I’d screamed out in terror
at the werewolf’s lunge, it wasn’t fear for the wolf that brought
the cry of “no” to my lips. It was fear that he would be
harmed—even as he called to me with sharp-edged fangs, I feared for him. And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn’t know if there ever was a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew—if I knew—I could do my
nothing about frightening secret. Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him
right now. Even if… but I couldn’t think it. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as under
twilight the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I and my
shivered rose quickly from place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have
disappeared with the rain. But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green
maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled my
close around face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran the
through trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out
at all, or following the path farther into the of
confines the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open the
spaces through webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on
the street, and I was free, Charlie’s lawn stretched
out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth
and dry socks. It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the
day, jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying
indoors. It didn’t take too much effort to on my
concentrate task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft
contentedly, more serene than I’d felt since… well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was
being honest. That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful
part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the
decision was made, I simply followed through— usually with
relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by
despair, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling
with the alternatives. This decision was ridiculously easy to
live with. Dangerously easy. And so the day was
quiet, productive—I finished my paper before
eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a of
book recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The chills that flashed up my spine I of
whenever thought that trip were no different than the ones I’d felt before I’d taken
my walk with Jacob Black. They should be different, I thought. I should be afraid—I knew I should be, but I couldn’t feel the right kind of
fear. I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted
from beginning my day so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time since in
arriving Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window, stunned to see a
that there was hardly cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy be
little white puffs that couldn’t possibly carrying any rain. I opened the window— surprised when
it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in
who knows how many years—and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly at
windy all. My blood was electric in my veins. Charlie was finishing breakfast when I
came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately. “Nice day out,” he commented. “Yes,” I agreed with a grin. He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see
why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of
the young romantic he’d been in those days had faded before I’d known him, as the curly
brown hair—the same color, if not the same texture, as mine—had
dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the of
shiny skin his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little
of the man who had run away with Renée when she was just two years I
older than was now. I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the in
dust motes stirring the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from
the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be fate
tempting to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and
stepped out into the brightest light I’d seen in months. By dint of much elbow
grease, I was able to get both windows in the
truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I
hadn’t even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and the
headed toward seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches
were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done—the product of a a
slow social life—but there were few Trig problems I wasn’t sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but halfway through rechecking the first
problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the trees.
red-barked I sketched inattentively along the of my
margins homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized
I’d drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out
with the eraser. “Bella!” I heard someone call, and it
sounded like Mike. I looked around to realize that the had
school become populated while I’d been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts,
some even in shorts though the temperature couldn’t be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts
and a striped Rugby shirt, waving. “Hey, Mike,” I called, waving
back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning
like this. He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining in
golden the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, I couldn’t help but feel gratified. “I never noticed before—your hair has red
in it,” he commented, catching between his a that
fingers strand was fluttering in the light breeze. “Only in the sun.” I became just a little
uncomfortable as he tucked the lock behind my ear. “Great day, isn’t it?” “My kind of day,” I agreed. “What did you do yesterday?” His tone was
just a bit too proprietary. “I mostly worked on my essay.” I didn’t add that I was finished with to
it—no need sound smug. He hit his forehead with the heel of his
hand. “Oh yeah—that’s due Thursday, right?” “Um, Wednesday, I think.” “Wednesday?” He
frowned. “That’s not good…. What are you writing
yours on?” “Whether Shakespeare’s treatment of the
female characters is misogynistic.” He stared at me like I’d just spoken in
pig Latin. “I guess I’ll have to get to work on that
tonight,” he said, deflated. “I was going to ask if
you wanted to go out.” “Oh.” I was taken off guard. Why couldn’t I ever have a pleasant with
conversation Mike anymore without it getting awkward? “Well, we could go to dinner or something… and I could work on it later.” He smiled at me hopefully. “Mike…” I hated being put on the spot. “I don’t think that would be the best
idea.” His face fell. “Why?” he asked, his eyes guarded. My thoughts flickered
to Edward, wondering if that’s where his thoughts as
were well. “I think… and if you ever repeat what I
I’m saying right now will cheerfully beat you to death,” I threatened, “but I think
that would hurt Jessica’s feelings.” He was bewildered, obviously not thinking
in that direction at all. “Jessica?” “Really, Mike, are you blind?” “Oh,” he exhaled— clearly dazed. I took
advantage of that to make my escape. “It’s time for class, and I can’t be late
again.” I gathered my books up and stuffed them
in my bag. We walked in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I he
hoped whatever thoughts was immersed in were leading him in the right direction. When I saw in
Jessica Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port to
Angeles tonight go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn’t need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get
out of town with some girlfriends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew I
what could be doing tonight…. But that was definitely the wrong path to
let my mind wander down. Of course I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn’t completely responsible I
for the euphoric mood was in, not even close. So I gave her a maybe, telling her I’d have to talk with Charlie
first. She talked of nothing but the dance on to
the way Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption
when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way
to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of to
anticipation notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see
not just him but all the Cullens—to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued
my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the
cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear down
slither my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what
I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me—would Edward be waiting
to sit with me again? As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens’ table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach
as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the
rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled— Spanish had
made us late—but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family. Desolation hit me
with crippling strength. I shambled along behind Jessica, not to
bothering pretend to listen anymore. We were late enough that everyone was at
already our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in
favor of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held the out
chair politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response. Angela asked a few quiet questions about
the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could
while spiraling downward in misery. She, too, invited me to go with them
tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to
distract myself. I realized I’d been holding on to a last
shred of hope when I entered Biology, saw his empty seat, and felt a new wave
of disappointment. The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the
rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and of
listen instead stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach
didn’t finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would
arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class. I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope I out
before went tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in
the door of Charlie’s house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike had asked
her out to dinner—I really was relieved that he finally seemed to be catching my
on—but enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for
tomorrow night. Which left me with little in the way of
distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the
night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half hour on homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, reading the of
backlog letters from my mother, getting snippier as they progressed to
the present. I sighed and typed a quick response. Mom, Sorry. I’ve been out. I went to the
beach with some friends. And I had to write a paper. My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I up
gave on that. It’s sunny outside today—I know, I’m
shocked, too—so I’m going to go outside and soak D
up as much vitamin as I can. I love you, Bella. I decided to kill an
hour with non-school- related reading. I had a small collection of books that me
came with to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation
of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and headed to the
backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the at
linen cupboard the top of the stairs on my way down. Outside in Charlie’s small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half
and laid it out of the reach of the trees’ shadows on the thick lawn that
would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles
in the air, flipping through the different novels in
the book, trying to decide which would occupy my
mind the most thoroughly. My favorites were Pride and Prejudice and
Sense and Sensibility. I’d read the first most recently, so I started into Sense and Sensibility, only to remember after I began chapter of
three that the hero the story happened to be named Edward. Angrily, I turned to
Mansfield Park, but the hero of that piece was named
Edmund, and that was just too close. Weren’t there any other names available I
in the late eighteenth century? snapped the book shut, annoyed, and rolled over onto my back. I pushed my sleeves up as high as they
would go, and closed my eyes. I would think of but
nothing the warmth on my skin, I told myself severely. The breeze was
still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my
face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my
hair over my head, letting it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heat that my
touched eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my
light shirt…. The next thing I was conscious of was the
sound of Charlie’s cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in
surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the
trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I
wasn’t alone. “Charlie?” I asked. But I could hear his
door slamming in front of the house. I jumped up, foolishly edgy, gathering my
the now-damp quilt and book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on
the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and I
stepping out of his boots when came in. “Sorry, Dad, dinner’s not ready yet—I
fell asleep outside.” I stifled a yawn. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I wanted to catch the score on
the game, anyway.” I watched TV with Charlie after
dinner, for something to do. There wasn’t on I to
anything wanted watch, but he knew I didn’t like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom
that neither of us enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to be doing
something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make him happy. “Dad,” I said during a
commercial, “Jessica and Angela are going to look at
dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them
choose… do you mind if I go with them?” “Jessica Stanley?” he asked. “And Angela
Weber.” I sighed as I gave him the details. He was confused. “But you’re not going to
the dance, right?” “No, Dad, but I’m helping them
find dresses—you know, giving them constructive criticism.” I to
wouldn’t have explain this to a woman. “Well, okay.” He seemed to realize that
he was out of his depth with the girlie stuff. “It’s a school night, though.” “We’ll leave right after school, so we
can get back early. You’ll be okay for dinner, right?” “Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years
before you got here,” he reminded me. “I don’t know how you
survived,” I muttered, then added more clearly, “I’ll leave some things for cold-cut in
sandwiches the fridge, okay? Right on top.” It was sunny again
in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I tried
grimly to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a I’d
deep blue V-neck blouse— something worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix. I had planned my arrival at school so I
that barely had time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a
space, while also searching for the silver Volvo
that was clearly not there. I parked in the last row and hurried to
English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before
the final bell. It was the same as yesterday—I just keep
couldn’t little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed as I
painfully searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table. The Port Angeles scheme was back on again
for tonight and made all the more attractive by the fact that Lauren had other
obligations. I was anxious to get out of town so I my
could stop glancing over shoulder, hoping to see him appearing out of the he
blue the way always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a
good mood tonight and not ruin Angela’s or Jessica’s enjoyment in the
dress hunting. Maybe I could do a little clothes as
shopping well. I refused to think that I might be alone
shopping in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier
arrangement. Surely he wouldn’t cancel without at me.
least telling After school, Jessica followed me home in
her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my
hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I
contemplated getting out of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, switched my scruffy wallet from my school
bag to a purse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jessica. We went to Angela’s house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as
we actually drove out of the town limits. CHAPTER 8 PORT ANGELES. port angeles, twilight
bella attacked, twilight edward saves bella, twilight
romance danger, twilight city rescue. Bella is cornered —
in Port Angeles Edward’s rescue proves his care in Twilight speed read. Jess drove faster
than the chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. It had been a while since I’d had a night
girls’ out, and the estrogen rush was invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs while on
Jessica jabbered about the boys we hung out with. Jessica’s dinner with Mike had gone
very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night
they would have progressed to the first-kiss stage. I smiled to myself, pleased. Angela was
passively happy to be going to the dance, but not really interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who her
type was, but I interrupted with a question about a
dresses after bit, to spare her. Angela threw a grateful my
glance way. Port Angeles was a beautiful little trap,
tourist much more polished and quaint than Forks. But Jessica and Angela knew it well, so they didn’t plan to waste time on the
picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to the one big store
department in town, which was a few streets in from the bay
area’s visitor- friendly face. The dance was billed as semiformal, and we weren’t exactly sure what that
meant. Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised
and almost disbelieving when I told them I’d never been to a dance in Phoenix. “Didn’t you ever a
go with boyfriend or something?” Jess asked dubiously as we walked through
the front doors of the store. “Really,” I tried to convince her, not wanting to confess my dancing
problems. “I’ve never had a boyfriend or anything
close. I didn’t go out much.” “Why not?” Jessica demanded. “No one asked me,” I answered honestly. She looked skeptical. “People ask you out here,” she reminded
me, “and you tell them no.” We were in the
juniors’ section now, scanning the racks for dress-up clothes. “Well, except for Tyler,” Angela amended
quietly. “Excuse me?” I gasped. “What did you say?” “Tyler told everyone he’s taking you to
prom,” Jessica informed me with suspicious eyes. “He said what?” I sounded like I was
choking. “I told you it wasn’t true,” Angela murmured to Jessica. I was silent, still lost in shock that was quickly to
turning irritation. But we had found the dress racks, and now we had work to do. “That’s why Lauren doesn’t like you,” Jessica giggled while we pawed through
the clothes. I ground my teeth. “Do you think that if
I ran him over with my truck he would stop feeling guilty about the he
accident? That might give up on making amends and call it even?” “Maybe,” Jess
snickered. “If that’s why he’s doing this.” The dress selection wasn’t large, but of
both them found a few things to try on. I sat on a low chair just inside the
dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying to my
control fuming. Jess was torn between two—one a long, strapless, basic black number, the other
a knee-length electric blue with spaghetti straps. I encouraged her to go with the blue; why
not play up the eyes? Angela chose a pale pink dress that draped around her
tall frame nicely and brought out honey tints in her light brown hair. I complimented
them both generously and helped by returning the rejects to their racks. The whole process was and
much shorter easier than similar trips I’d taken with Renée at home. I guess there was to
something be said for limited choices. We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I merely and
watched critiqued, not in the mood to shop for myself, though I did need new shoes. The girls’-night high was wearing off in
the wake of my annoyance at Tyler, leaving room for the gloom to move back
in. “Angela?” I began, hesitant, while she on
was trying a pair of pink strappy heels—she was overjoyed to have a date tall enough that
she could wear high heels at all. Jessica had drifted to the jewelry and we
counter were alone. “Yes?” She held her leg out, twisting her ankle to get a better view
of the shoe. I chickened out. “I like those.” “I think I’ll get them—though they’ll but
never match anything the one dress,” she mused. “Oh, go ahead— they’re on
sale,” I encouraged. She smiled, putting the lid
back on a box that contained more practical- looking off-white shoes. I tried again. “Um, Angela…” She looked up curiously. “Is
it normal for the… Cullens”—I kept my eyes on the shoes—“to
be out of school a lot?” I failed miserably in my attempt to sound
nonchalant. “Yes, when the weather is good they go
backpacking all the time—even the doctor. They’re all real outdoorsy,” she told me
quietly, examining her shoes, too. She didn’t ask
one question, let alone the hundreds that Jessica would
have unleashed. I was beginning to really like Angela. “Oh.” I let the subject drop as Jessica
returned to show us the rhinestone jewelry she’d found to match her silver shoes. We planned to go to dinner at a little on
Italian restaurant the boardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn’t taken as as
long we’d expected. Jess and Angela were going to take their
clothes back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet
them at the restaurant in an hour—I wanted to look for a bookstore. They were both willing to come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun—they
didn’t know how preoccupied I could get when surrounded by books; it was something I
preferred to do alone. They walked off to the car chattering
happily, and I headed in the direction Jess out.
pointed I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn’t what I was looking for. The windows were full of crystals, dream- catchers, and books about healing.
spiritual I didn’t even go inside. Through the I a
glass could see fifty-year- old woman with long, gray hair worn straight down her
back, clad in a dress right out of the sixties, smiling welcomingly from behind the
counter. I decided that was one conversation I
could skip. There had to be a normal bookstore in
town. I meandered through the streets, which up
were filling with end-of-the- workday traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I wasn’t paying as much attention as I to
should where I was going; I was wrestling with despair. I was trying so
hard not to think about him, and what Angela had said… and more than
anything trying to beat down my hopes for Saturday, fearing a disappointment more
painful than the rest, when I looked up to see someone’s silver
Volvo parked along the street and it all came crashing down on me. Stupid, unreliable vampire, I thought to myself. I stomped along in a southerly direction, toward some glass- fronted shops that
looked promising. But when I got to them, they were just a repair shop and a vacant
space. I still had too much time to go looking
for Jess and Angela yet, and I definitely needed to get my mood in
hand before I met back up with them. I ran my fingers through my hair a
couple of times and took some deep breaths before I continued around the
corner. I started to realize, as I crossed road,
another that I was going the wrong direction. The little foot traffic I had seen was
going north, and it looked like the buildings here
were mostly warehouses. I decided to turn east at the next corner, and then loop around after a few blocks a
and try my luck on different street on my way back to the boardwalk. A group of four men turned around the I
corner was heading for, dressed too casually to be heading home
from the office, but they were too grimy to be tourists. As they approached me, I realized they I
weren’t too many years older than was. They were joking loudly among themselves, laughing raucously and punching each
other’s arms. I scooted as far to the inside of the as
sidewalk I could to give them room, walking swiftly, looking past them
to the corner. “Hey, there!” one of them called as they
passed, and he had to be talking to me since no
one else was around. I glanced up automatically. Two of them
had paused, the other two were slowing. The closest, a heavyset, dark-haired man in his early
twenties, seemed to be the one who had spoken. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over
a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans, and sandals. He took half
a step toward me. “Hello,” I mumbled, a knee-jerk reaction. Then I quickly looked away and walked the
faster toward corner. I could hear them laughing at full volume
behind me. “Hey, wait!” one of them called after me
again, but I kept my head down and rounded the a
corner with sigh of relief. I could still hear them chortling behind
me. I found myself on a sidewalk leading past
the backs of several somber- colored warehouses, each with large bay doors for unloading
trucks, padlocked for the night. The south side
of the street had no sidewalk, only a chain-link fence topped with wire
barbed protecting some kind of engine parts storage yard. I’d wandered far past the part of Port I,
Angeles that as a guest, was intended to see. It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds finally returning, piling up
on the western horizon, creating an early sunset. The eastern sky
was still clear, but graying, shot through with streaks of
pink and orange. I’d left my jacket in the car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms
tightly across my chest. A single van passed me, and then the road
was empty. The sky suddenly darkened further, and, as I looked over my shoulder to glare at
the offending cloud, I realized with a shock that two men were
walking quietly twenty feet behind me. They were from the same group I’d passed
at the corner, though neither was the dark one who’d to
spoken me. I turned my head forward at once, quickening my pace. A chill that had to
nothing do with the weather made me shiver again. My purse was on a shoulder strap I
and had it slung across my body, the way you were supposed to wear it so
it wouldn’t get snatched. I knew exactly where my pepper spray in
was—still my duffel bag under the bed, never unpacked. I didn’t have much money
with me, just a twenty and some ones, and I thought about “accidentally” my bag
dropping and walking away. But a small, frightened voice in the back
of my mind warned me that they might be something worse than thieves. I to
listened intently their quiet footsteps, which were much too quiet when compared
to the boisterous noise they’d been making earlier, and it didn’t sound like they were up,
speeding or getting any closer to me. Breathe, I had to remind myself. You don’t know they’re following you. I continued to walk as quickly as I could
without actually running, focusing on the right-hand turn that was
only a few yards away from me now. I could hear them, staying as far back as
they’d been before. A blue car turned onto the street from
the south and drove quickly past me. I thought of jumping out in front of it, but I hesitated, inhibited, unsure that I
was really being pursued, and then it was too late. I reached the corner, but a swift glance
revealed that it was only a blind drive to the back of another building. I was half-turned in anticipation; I had
to hurriedly correct and dash across the narrow drive, back to the sidewalk. The street ended at
the next corner, where there was a stop sign. I concentrated on the faint footsteps me,
behind deciding whether or not to run. They sounded farther back, though, and I
knew they could outrun me in any case. I was sure to trip and go sprawling if I
tried to go any faster. The footfalls were definitely farther
back. I risked a quick glance over my shoulder, and they were maybe forty feet back now, I saw with relief. But they were both at
staring me. It seemed to take forever for me to get
to the corner. I kept my pace steady, the men behind me
falling ever so slightly farther behind with every step. Maybe they realized they had
scared me and were sorry. I saw two cars going north pass the I was
intersection heading for, and I exhaled in relief. There would be I
more people around once got off this deserted street. I skipped around the a
corner with grateful sigh. And skidded to a stop. The street was on
lined both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls. I could see
in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, and
cars, more pedestrians, but they were all too far away. Because lounging against the western
building, midway down the street, were the other
two men from the group, both watching with excited smiles as I on
froze dead the sidewalk. I realized then that I wasn’t being
followed. I was being herded. I paused for only a
second, but it felt like a very long time. I turned then and darted to the other of
side the road. I had a sinking feeling that it was a
wasted attempt. The footsteps behind me were louder now. “There you are!” The booming voice of the
stocky, dark-haired man shattered the intense and
quiet made me jump. In the gathering darkness, it seemed like
he was looking past me. “Yeah,” a voice called loudly from behind
me, making me jump again as I tried to hurry
down the street. “We just took a little detour.” My steps had to slow now. I was closing the distance between myself
and the lounging pair too quickly. I had a good loud scream, and I sucked in air, preparing to use it, but my throat was so dry I wasn’t sure I
how much volume could manage. With a quick movement I slipped my purse
over my head, gripping the strap with one hand, ready to surrender it or use it as weapon
as need demanded. The thickset man shrugged away from the I
wall as warily came to a stop, and walked slowly into the street. “Stay away from me,” I warned in a voice
that was supposed to sound strong and fearless. But I was right about the dry
throat—no volume. “Don’t be like that, sugar,” he called, and the raucous laughter started again
behind me. I braced myself, feet apart, trying to my
remember through panic what little self-defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully breaking the nose or shoving it
into the brain. Finger through the eye socket—try to hook
around and pop the eye out. And the standard knee to the groin, of course. That same pessimistic voice in
my mind spoke up then, reminding me that I probably wouldn’t a
have chance against one of them, and there were four. Shut up! I commanded
the voice before terror could incapacitate me. I wasn’t going out without taking someone
with me. I tried to swallow so I could build up a
decent scream. Headlights suddenly flew around the
corner, the car almost hitting the stocky one, forcing him to jump back toward the
sidewalk. I dove into the road—this car was going
to stop, or have to hit me. But the silver car
unexpectedly fishtailed around, skidding to a stop with the passenger a
door open just few feet from me. “Get in,” a furious voice commanded. It was amazing how instantaneously the
choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of over
security washed me—even before I was off the street—as soon as I heard his voice. I jumped into the seat, slamming the door
shut behind me. It was dark in the car, no light had come on with the opening of
the door, and I could barely see his face in the
glow from the dashboard. The tires squealed as he spun around to
face north, accelerating too quickly, swerving toward
the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them diving for the
sidewalk as we straightened out and sped toward the harbor. “Put on your seat
belt,” he commanded, and I realized I was the
clutching seat with both hands. I quickly obeyed; the snap as the belt in
connected was loud the darkness. He took a sharp left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs a
without pause. But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about
where we were going. I stared at his face in profound relief, relief that went beyond my sudden
deliverance. I studied his flawless features in the
limited light, waiting for my breath to return to normal, until it occurred to me that his was
expression murderously angry. “Are you okay?” I asked, surprised at how
hoarse my voice sounded. “No,” he said curtly, and his tone was
livid. I sat in silence, watching his face while
his blazing eyes stared straight ahead, until the car came to a sudden stop. I glanced around, but it was too dark to
see anything beside the vague outline of dark trees crowding the roadside. We in
weren’t town anymore. “Bella?” he asked, his voice tight, controlled. “Yes?” My voice was still
rough. I tried to clear my throat quietly. “Are you all right?” He still didn’t look
at me, but the fury was plain on his face. “Yes,” I croaked softly. “Distract me, please,” he ordered. “I’m sorry, what?” He exhaled sharply. “Just prattle about I
something unimportant until calm down,” he clarified, closing his eyes and the of
pinching bridge his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Um.” I wracked my brain for
something trivial. “I’m going to run over Tyler Crowley
tomorrow before school?” He was still squeezing his eyes closed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Why?” “He’s telling everyone that he’s
taking me to prom—either he’s insane or he’s still trying to make up for almost killing me last… well, you remember it, and he thinks prom
is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we’re even, and he can’t keep trying
to make amends. I don’t need enemies and maybe Lauren off
would back if he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he doesn’t have a ride he take
can’t anyone to prom… ,” I babbled on. “I heard about that.” He sounded a bit more composed. “You did?” I asked in disbelief, my previous irritation flaring. “If he’s
paralyzed from the neck down, he can’t go to the prom, either,” I muttered, refining my plan. Edward sighed, and finally opened his
eyes. “Better?” “Not really.” I waited, but he
didn’t speak again. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car. His face was rigid. “What’s wrong?” My voice came out in a whisper. “Sometimes I have a problem with my
temper, Bella.” He was whispering, too, and as he
stared out the window, his eyes narrowed into slits. “But it be
wouldn’t helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…” He didn’t finish his
sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to
control his anger again. “At least,” he continued, “that’s what to
I’m trying convince myself.” “Oh.” The word seemed inadequate, but I a
couldn’t think of better response. We sat in silence again. I glanced at the
clock on the dashboard. It was past six-thirty. “Jessica and will
Angela be worried,” I murmured. “I was supposed to meet them.” He started the engine without another
word, turning around smoothly and speeding back
toward town. We were under the streetlights in no time
at all, still going too fast, weaving with ease
through the cars slowly cruising the boardwalk. He parallel- parked against the curb in a
space I would have thought much too small for the Volvo, but he slid in in one try.
effortlessly I looked out the window to see the lights
of La Bella Italia, and Jess and Angela just leaving, pacing anxiously away from us. “How did
you know where… ?” I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see
him getting out. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m taking you to dinner.” He smiled
slightly, but his eyes were hard. He stepped out of
the car and slammed the door. I fumbled with my seat belt, and then hurried to get out of the car as
well. He was waiting for me on the sidewalk. He spoke before I could. “Go stop Jessica
and Angela before I have to track them down, too. I don’t think I could restrain
myself if I ran into your other friends again.” I shivered at the threat in his
voice. “Jess! Angela!” I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back
to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces
simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They hesitated a
few feet from us. “Where have you been?” Jessica’s voice
was suspicious. “I got lost,” I admitted sheepishly. “And then I ran into Edward.” I gestured toward him. “Would it be all I
right if joined you?” he asked in his silken, irresistible
voice. I could see from their staggered that he
expressions had never unleashed his talents on them before. “Er… sure,” Jessica breathed.
“Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we
were waiting— sorry,” Angela confessed. “That’s fine—I’m not
hungry.” I shrugged. “I think you should eat
something.” Edward’s voice was low, but full of
authority. He looked up at Jessica and spoke louder.
slightly “Do you mind if I drive Bella home That
tonight? way you won’t have to wait while she eats.” “Uh, no problem, I guess…” She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my expression I
whether that was what wanted. I winked at her. I wanted nothing more to
than be alone with my perpetual savior. There were so many questions that I him
couldn’t bombard with till we were by ourselves. “Okay.” Angela was quicker than Jessica. “See you tomorrow, Bella… Edward.” She
grabbed Jessica’s hand and pulled her toward the car, which I could see a little ways away, parked across First Street. As they got
in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager
with curiosity. I waved back, waiting for them to drive I
away before turned to face him. “Honestly, I’m not hungry,” I insisted, looking up to scrutinize his face. His expression was unreadable. “Humor me.” He walked to the door of the restaurant
and held it open with an obstinate expression. Obviously, there would be no further
discussion. I walked past him into the restaurant a
with resigned sigh. The restaurant wasn’t crowded—it was the
off-season in Port Angeles. The host was female, and I understood the
look in her eyes as she assessed Edward. She welcomed him a little more warmly
than necessary. I was surprised by how much that bothered
me. She was several inches taller than I was, and unnaturally blond. “A table for two?” His voice was alluring, whether he was or
aiming for that not. I saw her eyes flicker to me and then
away, satisfied by my obvious ordinariness, and
by the cautious, no-contact space Edward kept between us. She led us to a table big enough for four
in the center of the most crowded area of the dining floor. I was about to sit, but Edward shook his
head at me. “Perhaps something more private?” he to
insisted quietly the host. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like he her
smoothly handed a tip. I’d never seen anyone refuse a table in
except old movies. “Sure.” She sounded as surprised as I was. She turned and led us around a partition
to a small ring of booths—all of them empty. “How’s this?” “Perfect.” He his
flashed gleaming smile, dazing her momentarily. “Um”—she shook
her head, blinking— “your server will be right out.” She walked away unsteadily. “You really
shouldn’t do that to people,” I criticized. “It’s hardly fair.” “Do
what?” “Dazzle them like that—she’s probably in
hyperventilating the kitchen right now.” He seemed confused. “Oh, come on,” I said dubiously. “You have to know the
effect you have on people.” He tilted his head to one side, and his eyes were curious. “I dazzle
people?” “You haven’t noticed? Do you think gets
everybody their way so easily?” He ignored my questions. “Do I dazzle
you?” “Frequently,” I admitted. And then our
server arrived, her face expectant. The hostess had the
definitely dished behind scenes, and this new girl didn’t look
disappointed. She flipped a strand of short black hair
behind one ear and smiled with unnecessary warmth. “Hello. My name is Amber, and I’ll be
your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?” I didn’t miss that she was speaking only
to him. He looked at me. “I’ll have a Coke.” It sounded like a question. “Two Cokes,” he said. “I’ll be right back with that,” she assured him with another unnecessary
smile. But he didn’t see it. He was watching me. “What?” I asked when she left. His eyes stayed fixed on my face. “How are you feeling?” “I’m fine,” I replied, surprised by his intensity. “You don’t feel dizzy, sick, cold… ?” “Should I?” He chuckled at my puzzled
tone. “Well, I’m actually waiting for you to go
into shock.” His face twisted up into that perfect
crooked smile. “I don’t think that will happen,” I said after I could breathe again. “I’ve always been very good at repressing
unpleasant things.” “Just the same, I’ll feel better when you
have some sugar and food in you.” Right on cue, the waitress appeared with
our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. She stood with her back to me as she them
placed on the table. “Are you ready to order?” she asked
Edward. “Bella?” he asked. She turned unwillingly
toward me. I picked the first thing I saw on the
menu. “Um… I’ll have the mushroom ravioli.” “And you?” She turned back to him with a
smile. “Nothing for me,” he said. Of course not. “Let me know if you change your mind.” The coy smile was still in place, but he wasn’t looking at her, and she left dissatisfied. “Drink,” he
ordered. I sipped at my soda obediently, and then drank more deeply, surprised by
how thirsty I was. I realized I had finished the whole thing
when he pushed his glass toward me. “Thanks,” I muttered, still thirsty. The
cold from the icy soda was radiating through my chest, and I shivered. “Are you cold?” “It’s just the Coke,” I explained, shivering again. “Don’t you have a
jacket?” His voice was disapproving. “Yes.” I at
looked the empty bench next to me. “Oh—I left it in Jessica’s car,” I realized. Edward was shrugging out of
his jacket. I suddenly realized that I had never once
noticed what he was wearing—not just tonight, but ever. I just couldn’t seem to look
away from his face. I made myself look now, focusing. He was removing a light beige leather he
jacket now; underneath wore an ivory turtleneck sweater. It fit him snugly, emphasizing how his
muscular chest was. He handed me the jacket, interrupting my
ogling. “Thanks,” I said again, sliding my arms
into his jacket. It was cold—the way my jacket felt when I
first picked it up in the morning, hanging in the drafty hallway. I shivered
again. It smelled amazing. I inhaled, trying to
identify the delicious scent. It didn’t smell like cologne. The sleeves
were much too long; I shoved them back so I could free my hands. “That color blue
looks lovely with your skin,” he said, watching me. I was surprised; I
looked down, flushing, of course. He pushed the bread
basket toward me. “Really, I’m not going into shock,” I protested. “You should be—a normal be.
person would You don’t even look shaken.” He seemed
unsettled. He stared into my eyes, and I saw how his
light eyes were, lighter than I’d ever seen them, golden butterscotch. “I feel very safe
with you,” I confessed, mesmerized into telling the
truth again. That displeased him; his alabaster brow
furrowed. He shook his head, frowning. “This is I’d
more complicated than planned,” he murmured to himself. I picked up a and
breadstick began nibbling on the end, measuring his expression. I wondered when
it would be okay to start questioning him. “Usually you’re in a better mood when are
your eyes so light,” I commented, trying to distract him from
whatever thought had left him frowning and somber. He stared at me, stunned. “What?” “You’re always crabbier when your eyes it
are black—I expect then,” I went on. “I have a theory about that.” His eyes narrowed. “More theories?”
“Mm-hm.” I chewed on a small bite of the bread, trying to look indifferent. “I hope you
were more creative this time… or are you still stealing from comic
books?” His faint smile was mocking; his eyes
were still tight. “Well, no, I didn’t get it from a comic
book, but I didn’t come up with it on my own, either,” I confessed. “And?” he prompted. But then the waitress strode around the
partition with my food. I realized we’d been unconsciously toward
leaning each other across the table, because we both straightened up as she
approached. She set the dish in front of me—it looked
pretty good—and turned quickly to Edward. “Did you change your mind?” she asked. “Isn’t there anything I can get you?” I may have been imagining the double in
meaning her words. “No, thank you, but some more soda would
be nice.” He gestured with a long white hand to the
empty cups in front of me. “Sure.” She removed the empty glasses and
walked away. “You were saying?” he asked. “I’ll tell
you about it in the car. If…” I paused. “There are conditions?” He raised one eyebrow, his voice ominous. “I do have a few questions, of course.” “Of course.” The waitress was
back with two more Cokes. She sat them down without a word this
time, and left again. I took a sip. “Well, go ahead,” he pushed, his voice
still hard. I started with the most undemanding. Or so I thought. “Why are you in Port
Angeles?” He looked down, folding his large hands
together slowly on the table. His eyes flickered up at me from under
his lashes, the hint of a smirk on his face. “Next.” “But that’s the easiest one,” I objected. “Next,” he repeated. I looked
down, frustrated. I unrolled my silverware, up
picked my fork, and carefully speared a ravioli. I put it
in my mouth slowly, still looking down, chewing while I
thought. The mushrooms were good. I swallowed and
took another sip of Coke before I looked up. “Okay, then.” I glared at him, and continued slowly. “Let’s say, of
hypothetically course, that… someone… could know what people
are thinking, read minds, you know—with a few
exceptions.” “Just one exception,” he corrected,
“hypothetically.” “All right, with one exception, then.” I was thrilled that he was playing along, but I tried to seem casual. “How does that work? What are the How
limitations? would… that someone… find someone else at the
exactly right time? How would he know she was in trouble?” I wondered if my convoluted
questions even made sense. “Hypothetically?” he asked. “Sure.” if…
“Well, that someone…” “Let’s call him ‘Joe,’” I suggested. He smiled wryly. “Joe, then. If Joe had been paying attention, the timing wouldn’t have needed to be so
quite exact.” He shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Only you could get into trouble in a
town this small. You would have devastated their crime for
rate statistics a decade, you know.” “We were speaking of a case,”
hypothetical I reminded him frostily. He laughed at me, his eyes warm. “Yes, we were,” he agreed. “Shall we call you ‘Jane’?” “How did you know?” I asked, unable to curb my intensity. I realized I
was leaning toward him again. He seemed to be wavering, torn by some
internal dilemma. His eyes locked with mine, and I guessed
he was making the decision right then whether or not to simply tell me the truth. “You can trust me, you know,” I murmured. I reached forward, without
thinking, to touch his folded hands, but he slid
them away minutely, and I pulled my hand back. “I don’t know if I have a choice anymore.” His voice was almost a whisper. “I was wrong—you’re much more observant I
than gave you credit for.” “I thought you were always right.” “I used to be.” He shook his head again. “I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You’re not a magnet for that’s a
accidents— not broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a
ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you.” “And you
put yourself into that category?” I guessed. His face turned cold, expressionless. “Unequivocally.” I my the
stretched hand across table again— ignoring him when he pulled back slightly once more—to touch the back of
his hand shyly with my fingertips. His skin was cold and hard, like a stone. “Thank you.” My voice was
fervent with gratitude. “That’s twice now.” His face softened. “Let’s not try for three, agreed?” I scowled, but nodded. He moved his hand
out from under mine, placing both of his under the table. But he leaned toward me. “I followed you
to Port Angeles,” he admitted, speaking in a rush. “I’ve never tried to keep a specific
person alive before, and it’s much more troublesome than I
would have believed. But that’s probably just because it’s you. Ordinary people seem to make it through
the day without so many catastrophes.” He paused. I wondered if it should bother
me that he was following me; instead I felt a strange surge of pleasure. He stared, maybe wondering why my lips an
were curving into involuntary smile. “Did you ever think that maybe my number
was up the first time, with the van, and that you’ve been with
interfering fate?” I speculated, distracting myself. “That
wasn’t the first time,” he said, and his voice was hard to hear. I stared at him in amazement, but he was looking down. “Your number was
up the first time I met you.” I felt a spasm of fear at his words, and the abrupt memory of his violent that
black glare first day… but the overwhelming sense of safety I in
felt his presence stifled it. By the time he looked up to read my eyes, there was no trace of fear in them. “You remember?” he asked, his angel’s
face grave. “Yes.” I was calm. “And yet here you sit.” There was a trace of disbelief in his he
voice; raised one eyebrow. “Yes, here I sit… because of you.” I paused. “Because somehow you knew how
to find me today… ?” I prompted. He pressed his lips
together, staring at me through narrowed eyes, deciding again. His eyes flashed down to
my full plate, and then back to me. “You eat, I’ll talk,” he bargained. I quickly up it
scooped another ravioli and popped in my mouth. “It’s harder than it should be—keeping of
track you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I’ve heard their mind before.” He looked at me anxiously, and I realized
I had frozen. I made myself swallow, then stabbed and
another ravioli tossed it in. “I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully— like I said, only you find
could trouble in Port Angeles—and at first I didn’t notice when you took off on your
own. Then, when I realized that you weren’t
with her anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I
saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn’t gone in, and that you’d gone south… and I knew
you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts
of people on the street—to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried… but I was strangely anxious….” He was
lost in thought, staring past me, seeing things I couldn’t
imagine. “I started to drive in circles, still… listening. The sun was finally
setting, and I was about to get out and follow you
on foot. And then—” He stopped, clenching his in
teeth together sudden fury. He made an effort to calm himself. “Then what?” I whispered. He continued to
stare over my head. “I heard what they were thinking,” he growled, his upper lip curling back
slightly over his teeth. “I saw your face in his mind.” He suddenly leaned forward, one elbow on
appearing the table, his hand covering his eyes. The movement
was so swift it startled me. “It was very… hard—you can’t imagine me
how hard—for to simply take you away, and leave them… alive.” His voice was
muffled by his arm. “I could have let you go with Jessica and
Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them,” he admitted in a whisper. I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands
were folded in my lap, and I was leaning weakly against the back
of the seat. He still had his face in his hand, and he was as still as if he’d been from
carved the stone his skin resembled. Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking
mine, full of his own questions. “Are you ready
to go home?” he asked. “I’m ready to leave,” I qualified, overly grateful that we had
the hour-long ride home together. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him. The waitress appeared as if she’d been
called. Or watching. “How are we doing?” she asked Edward. “We’re ready for the
check, thank you.” His voice was quiet, rougher, still reflecting the strain of
our conversation. It seemed to muddle her. He looked up, waiting. “S-sure,” she stuttered. “Here
you go.” She pulled a small leather folder from of
the front pocket her black apron and handed it to him. There was a bill in his hand
already. He slipped it into the folder and handed
it right back to her. “No change.” He smiled. Then he stood up, and I scrambled awkwardly to my feet. She smiled invitingly at him again. “You have a nice evening.” He didn’t look
away from me as he thanked her. I suppressed a smile. He walked close me
beside to the door, still careful not to touch me. I remembered what Jessica had said about
her relationship with Mike, how they were almost to the first-kiss
stage. I sighed. Edward seemed to hear me, and he looked down curiously. I looked at
the sidewalk, grateful that he didn’t seem to be able I
to know what was thinking. He opened the passenger door, holding it
for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly behind me. I watched
him walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by how graceful he was. I probably should have been used to that
by now—but I wasn’t. I had a feeling Edward wasn’t the kind of
person anyone got used to. Once inside the car, he started the and
engine turned the heater on high. It had gotten very cold, and I guessed at
the good weather was an end. I was warm in his jacket, though, breathing in the scent of it when
I thought he couldn’t see. Edward pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping to
around head toward the freeway. “Now,” he said significantly, “it’s your
turn.” CHAPTER 9 THEORY. theory, bella learns edward
secret, twilight edward vampire reveal, twilight
discovery, twilight truth explained. Bella discovers
Edward’s vampire secret in Twilight speed reading intrigue. “Can i ask just one more?” i pleaded as edward accelerated much too
quickly down the quiet street. He didn’t seem to be paying any attention
to the road. He sighed. “One,” he agreed. His lips a
pressed together into cautious line. “Well… you said you knew I hadn’t gone
into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that.” He looked away, deliberating. “I thought
we were past all the evasiveness,” I grumbled. He almost smiled. “Fine, then. I followed your scent.” He looked
at the road, giving me time to compose my face. I couldn’t think of an acceptable to
response that, but I filed it carefully away for future
study. I tried to refocus. I wasn’t ready to let
him be finished, now that he was finally explaining things. “And then you didn’t answer one of my
first questions…” I stalled. He looked at me with
disapproval. “Which one?” “How does it work—the thing?
mind-reading Can you read anybody’s mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest
of your family… ?” I felt silly, asking for clarification
on make- believe. “That’s more than one,” he pointed out. I simply intertwined my fingers and gazed
at him, waiting. “No, it’s just me. And I can’t
hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone’s… ‘voice’ is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles.” He paused thoughtfully. “It’s a little in
like being a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It’s just a of
hum—a buzzing voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they’re thinking is clear. “Most of the time I tune it all out—it be
can very distracting. And then it’s easier to seem normal”—he
frowned as he said the word—“when I’m not accidentally answering someone’s thoughts rather than
their words.” “Why do you think you can’t hear me?” I asked curiously. He looked at me, his eyes enigmatic. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “The only guess I have is
that maybe your mind doesn’t work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM and I’m
frequency only getting FM.” He grinned at me, suddenly amused. “My mind doesn’t work right? I’m a freak?” The words bothered me more than they his
should— probably because speculation hit home. I’d always suspected as much, and it me
embarrassed to have it confirmed. “I hear voices in my mind and you’re that
worried you’re the freak,” he laughed. “Don’t worry, it’s just a
theory….” His face tightened. “Which brings us back
to you.” I sighed. How to begin? “Aren’t we past
all the evasions now?” he reminded me softly. I looked away from
his face for the first time, trying to find words. I happened to the
notice speedometer. “Holy crow!” I shouted. “Slow down!” “What’s wrong?” He was startled. But the
car didn’t decelerate. “You’re going a hundred miles an hour!” I was still shouting. I shot a panicky
glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only visible in the long of
patch bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road a
was like black wall—as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road
at this speed. “Relax, Bella.” He rolled his eyes, still not slowing. “Are you trying to
kill us?” I demanded. “We’re not going to crash.” I tried to modulate my voice. “Why are you in such a hurry?” “I always drive like this.” He turned to
smile crookedly at me. “Keep your eyes on the road!” “I’ve never been in an accident, Bella—I’ve never even gotten a ticket.” He grinned and tapped his forehead. “Built-in radar detector.” “Very funny.”
I fumed. “Charlie’s a cop, remember? I was raised
to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo a
pretzel around tree trunk, you can probably just walk away.” “Probably,” he agreed with a short, hard laugh. “But you can’t.” He sighed, and I watched with relief as the needle
gradually drifted toward eighty. “Happy?” “Almost.” “I hate driving slow,” he muttered. “This is slow?” “Enough on
commentary my driving,” he snapped. “I’m still waiting for your
latest theory.” I bit my lip. He looked down at me, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle. “I
won’t laugh,” he promised. “I’m more afraid that you’ll
be angry with me.” “Is it that bad?” “Pretty much, yeah.” He waited. I was looking down at
my hands, so I couldn’t see his expression. “Go ahead.” His voice was calm. “I don’t know how to start,” I admitted. “Why don’t you start at the
beginning… you said you didn’t come up with this on
your own.” “No.” “What got you started—a book? A
movie?” he probed. “No—it was Saturday, at the
beach.” I risked a glance up at his face. He looked puzzled. “I ran into an old
family friend—Jacob Black,” I continued. “His dad and Charlie have I
been friends since was a baby.” He still looked confused. “His dad is one
of the Quileute elders.” I watched him carefully. His confused in
expression froze place. “We went for a walk—” I edited all my out
scheming of the story “—and he was telling me some old legends— trying
to scare me, I think. He told me one…” I hesitated. “Go on,” he said. “About vampires.” I realized I was
whispering. I couldn’t look at his face now. But I saw his knuckles tighten on the
convulsively wheel. “And you immediately thought of me?” Still calm. “No. He… mentioned your
family.” He was silent, staring at the road. I was worried suddenly, worried about
protecting Jacob. “He just thought it was a silly
superstition,” I said quickly. “He didn’t expect me to
think anything of it.” It didn’t seem like enough; I had to
confess. “It was my fault, I forced him to tell
me.” “Why?” “Lauren said something about was
you—she trying to provoke me. And an older boy from the tribe said your
family didn’t come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something
different. So I got Jacob alone and I tricked it out
of him,” I admitted, hanging my head. He startled
me by laughing. I glared up at him. He was laughing, but his eyes were fierce, staring ahead. “Tricked him how?” he asked. “I tried to
flirt—it worked better than I thought it would.” Disbelief colored my tone as I remembered. “I’d like to have seen that.” He chuckled darkly. “And you accused me
of dazzling people—poor Jacob Black.” I blushed and looked out my window into
the night. “What did you do then?” he asked after a
minute. “I did some research on the Internet.” “And did that convince you?” His voice
sounded barely interested. But his hands were clamped hard onto the
steering wheel. “No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of
silly. And then…” I stopped. “What?” “I it
decided didn’t matter,” I whispered. “It didn’t matter?” His tone
made me look up—I had finally broken through his carefully composed mask. His face was
incredulous, with just a hint of the anger I’d feared. “No,” I said softly. “It doesn’t matter
to me what you are.” A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. “You don’t care if I’m a monster? If I’m
not human?” “No.” He was silent, staring straight
ahead again. His face was bleak and cold. “You’re angry,” I sighed. “I shouldn’t
have said anything.” “No,” he said, but his tone was as hard
as his face. “I’d rather know what you’re thinking— if
even what you’re thinking is insane.” “So I’m wrong again?” I challenged. “That’s not what I was referring to. ‘It doesn’t matter’!” he quoted, gritting
his teeth together. “I’m right?” I gasped. “Does it matter?” I took a deep breath. “Not really.” I paused. “But I am curious.” My voice, at least, was composed. He was suddenly resigned. “What are you
curious about?” “How old are you?” “Seventeen,” he
answered promptly. “And how long have you been seventeen?” His lips twitched as he stared at the
road. “A while,” he admitted at last. “Okay.” I smiled, pleased that he was me.
still being honest with He stared down at me with watchful eyes, much as he had before, when he was I go
worried would into shock. I smiled wider in encouragement, and he
frowned. “Don’t laugh—but how can you come out the
during daytime?” He laughed anyway. “Myth.” “Burned by the
sun?” “Myth.” “Sleeping in coffins?” “Myth.” He
hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. “I can’t sleep.” It took me a minute to
absorb that. “At all?” “Never,” he said, his voice
nearly inaudible. He turned to look at me with a wistful
expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost my
train of thought. I stared at him until he looked away. “You haven’t asked me the most important
question yet.” His voice was hard now, and when he at me
looked again his eyes were cold. I blinked, still dazed. “Which one is
that?” “You aren’t concerned about my diet?” he asked sarcastically. “Oh,” I murmured, “that.” “Yes, that.” His voice was bleak. “Don’t you want to know if I drink blood?” I flinched. “Well, Jacob said something
about that.” “What did Jacob say?” he asked flatly. “He said you didn’t… hunt people. He said your family wasn’t supposed to be
dangerous because you only hunted animals.” “He said we weren’t dangerous?” His voice
was deeply skeptical. “Not exactly. He said you weren’t to be
supposed dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn’t want you
on their land, just in case.” He looked forward, but I couldn’t tell if he was watching or
the road not. “So was he right? About not hunting
people?” I tried to keep my voice as even as
possible. “The Quileutes have a long memory,” he whispered. I took it as a confirmation. “Don’t let that make you complacent, though,” he warned me. “They’re right to
keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous.” “I don’t
understand.” “We try,” he explained slowly. “We’re at
usually very good what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for
example, allowing myself to be alone with you.” “This is a mistake?” I heard the sadness
in my voice, but I didn’t know if he could as well. “A very dangerous one,” he murmured. We were both silent then. I watched the
headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved too fast; it didn’t look real, it looked like a video game. I was aware of the time slipping away so
quickly, like the black road beneath us, and I was hideously afraid that I would
never have another chance to be with him like this again— openly, the walls us for
between gone once. His words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn’t waste one minute I had with
him. “Tell me more,” I asked desperately, not caring what he said, just so I could
hear his voice again. He looked at me quickly, startled by the
change in my tone. “What more do you want to know?” “Tell me why you hunt animals instead of
people,” I suggested, my voice still tinged with
desperation. I realized my eyes were wet, and I fought against the grief that was
trying to overpower me. “I don’t want to be a monster.” His voice was very low. “But animals
aren’t enough?” He paused. “I can’t be sure, of course, but I’d compare it to living
on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It
doesn’t completely satiate the hunger—or rather thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time.” His tone turned
ominous. “Sometimes it’s more difficult than
others.” “Is it very difficult for you now?” I asked. He sighed. “Yes.” “But you’re
not hungry now,” I said confidently— stating, not asking. “Why do you think that?” “Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I’ve noticed that people—men in are when
particular— crabbier they’re hungry.” He chuckled. “You are observant, aren’t
you?” I didn’t answer; I just listened to the
sound of his laugh, committing it to memory. “Were you this
hunting weekend, with Emmett?” I asked when it was quiet
again. “Yes.” He paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say
something. “I didn’t want to leave, but it was
necessary. It’s a bit easier to be around you when
I’m not thirsty.” “Why didn’t you want to leave?” “It makes me… anxious… to be away
from you.” His eyes were gentle but intense, and they seemed to be making my bones
turn soft. “I wasn’t joking when I asked you to try
not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was all
distracted weekend, worrying about you. And after what
happened tonight, I’m surprised that you did make it a
through whole weekend unscathed.” He shook his head, and then seemed to
remember something. “Well, not totally unscathed.” “What?”
“Your hands,” he reminded me. I looked down at my palms, at the almost- healed scrapes across the
heels of my hands. His eyes missed nothing. “I fell,” I sighed. “That’s what I thought.” His lips curved up at the corners. “I suppose, being you, it could have been
much worse—and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three
days. I really got on Emmett’s nerves.” He smiled ruefully at me. “Three days?
Didn’t you just get back today?” “No, we got back Sunday.” “Then why any
weren’t of you in school?” I was frustrated, almost angry as I of I
thought how much disappointment had suffered because of his absence. “Well, you asked if the
sun hurt me, and it doesn’t. But I can’t go out in the
sunlight—at least, not where anyone can see.” “Why?” “I’ll show you sometime,” he promised. I thought about it for a moment. “You might have called me,” I decided. He was puzzled. “But I knew you were
safe.” “But I didn’t know where you were. I—” I hesitated, dropping my eyes. “What?” His velvety voice was compelling. “I didn’t like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too.” I blushed to
be saying this out loud. He was quiet. I glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression
was pained. “Ah,” he groaned quietly. “This is wrong.” I couldn’t understand his response. “What
did I say?” “Don’t you see, Bella? It’s one thing for
me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be so
involved.” He turned his anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for me
to understand. “I don’t want to hear that you feel that
way.” His voice was low but urgent. His words cut me. “It’s wrong. It’s not safe. I’m dangerous, Bella—
please, grasp that.” “No.” I tried very hard not
to look like a sulky child. “I’m serious,” he growled. “So am I. I told you, it doesn’t matter what you
are. It’s too late.” His voice whipped out, low and harsh. “Never say that.” I bit my lip and was glad he couldn’t how
know much that hurt. I stared out at the road. We must be close now. He was driving much
too fast. “What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice still raw. I just shook my head, not sure if I could speak. I could feel his gaze on my face, but I kept my eyes forward. “Are you crying?” He sounded appalled. I hadn’t realized the moisture in my eyes
had brimmed over. I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me. “No,” I said, but my voice
cracked. I saw him reach toward me hesitantly with
his right hand, but then he stopped and placed it slowly
back on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.” His voice burned with regret. I knew he wasn’t just apologizing for the
words that had upset me. The darkness slipped by us in silence. “Tell me something,” he asked after
another minute, and I could hear him struggle to use a
lighter tone. “Yes?” “What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I
couldn’t understand your expression— you didn’t look that scared, you looked like you were very on
concentrating hard something.” “I was trying to remember how to an know,
incapacitate attacker—you self- defense. I was going to smash his
nose into his brain.” I thought of the dark-haired man with a
surge of hate. “You were going to fight them?” This upset him. “Didn’t you think about
running?” “I fall down a lot when I run,” I admitted. “What about screaming for
help?” “I was getting to that part.” He shook his head. “You were right—I’m to
definitely fighting fate trying keep you alive.” I sighed. We were slowing, passing into
the boundaries of Forks. It had taken less than twenty minutes. “Will I see you tomorrow?” I demanded. “Yes—I have a paper due, too.” He smiled. “I’ll save you a seat at
lunch.” It was silly, after everything we’d been
through tonight, how that little promise sent flutters my
through stomach, and made me unable to speak. We were in front of Charlie’s house. The lights were on, my truck in its place, everything utterly normal. It was like a
waking from dream. He stopped the car, but I didn’t move. “Do you promise to be there tomorrow?” “I promise.” I considered that for a
moment, then nodded. I pulled his jacket off, taking one last whiff. “You can keep have
it—you don’t a jacket for tomorrow,” he reminded me. I handed it back to him. “I don’t want to have to explain to
Charlie.” “Oh, right.” He grinned. I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment. “Bella?” he asked in a different tone— serious, but hesitant. “Yes?” I turned back to him
too eagerly. “Will you promise me something?” “Yes,” I said, and instantly regretted my
unconditional agreement. What if he asked me to stay away from I
him? couldn’t keep that promise. “Don’t go into the woods alone.” I stared at him in blank confusion. “Why?” He frowned, and his eyes were as
tight he stared past me out the window. “I’m not always the most dangerous thing
out there. Let’s leave it at that.” I shuddered at
slightly the sudden bleakness in his voice, but I was relieved. This, at least, was an easy promise to honor. “Whatever you say.” “I’ll see you
tomorrow,” he sighed, and I knew he wanted me to
leave now. “Tomorrow, then.” I opened the door
unwillingly. “Bella?” I turned and he was leaning me,
toward his pale, glorious face just inches from
mine. My heart stopped beating. “Sleep well,” he said. His breath blew in my face, stunning me. It was the same exquisite to
scent that clung his jacket, but in a more concentrated form. I blinked, thoroughly dazed. He leaned
away. I was unable to move until my brain had
somewhat unscrambled itself. Then I stepped out of the car awkwardly, having to use the frame for support. I thought I heard him chuckle, but the sound was too quiet for me to be
certain. He waited till I had stumbled to the
front door, and then I heard his engine quietly rev. I turned to watch the silver car around
disappear the corner. I realized it was very cold. I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Charlie called from the living room. “Bella?” “Yeah, Dad, it’s me.” I walked
in to see him. He was watching a baseball game. “You’re home early.” “Am I?” I was
surprised. “It’s not even eight yet,” he told me. “Did you girls have fun?” “Yeah—it was of
lots fun.” My head was spinning as I tried to all to
remember the way back the girls’ night out I had planned. “They both found
dresses.” “Are you all right?” “I’m just tired. I did a lot of walking.” “Well, maybe you should go lie down.” He sounded concerned. I wondered what my
face looked like. “I’m just going to call Jessica first.” “Weren’t you just with her?” he asked, surprised. “Yes—but I left my jacket in
her car. I want to make sure she brings it
tomorrow.” “Well, give her a chance to get home
first.” “Right,” I agreed. I went to the kitchen
and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was really
feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into all.
shock after Get a grip, I told myself. The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I yanked it off the hook. “Hello?” I asked breathlessly. “Bella?”
“Hey, Jess, I was just going to call you.” “You made it home?” Her voice was
relieved… and surprised. “Yes. I left my jacket in
your car—could you bring it to me tomorrow?” “Sure. But tell me what happened!” she demanded. “Um, tomorrow—in Trig,
okay?” She caught on quickly. “Oh, is your dad
there?” “Yes, that’s right.” “Okay, I’ll talk to
you tomorrow, then. Bye!” I could hear the impatience
in her voice. “Bye, Jess.” I walked up the stairs
slowly, a heavy stupor clouding my mind. I went through the motions of getting for
ready bed without paying any attention to what I was doing. It wasn’t until I was in the
shower—the water too hot, burning my skin—that I realized I was
freezing. I shuddered violently for several minutes
before the steaming spray could finally relax my rigid muscles. Then I stood in the shower, too tired to move, until the hot water to
began run out. I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely
in a towel, trying to hold the heat from the water in
so the aching shivers wouldn’t return. I dressed for bed swiftly and climbed my
under quilt, curling into a ball, hugging myself to
keep warm. A few small shudders trembled through me. My mind still swirled dizzily, full of I
images couldn’t understand, and some I fought to repress. Nothing seemed clear at first, but as I
fell gradually closer to unconsciousness, a few certainties became evident. About I
three things was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was part of him—and I didn’t know
how potent that part might be—that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was and in love
unconditionally irrevocably with him. Share your thoughts in the comments Love
below! this chapter? Let us know! Keep speeding through the story! CHAPTER 10 INTERROGATIONS. interrogations, twilight
edward secrets, twilight bella questions edward, twilight vampire confession, twilight
romance. Bella confronts Edward, their bond grows through honesty in video
Twilight book. It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was was
sure last night a dream. Logic wasn’t on my side, or common sense. I clung to the parts I couldn’t have like
imagined— his smell. I was sure I could never have dreamed up
that on my own. It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. He had no reason not
to be in school today. I dressed in my heavy clothes, remembering I didn’t have a jacket. Further proof that my memory was real. When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone
again—I was running later than I’d realized. I swallowed a granola bar in three bites, chased it down with milk straight from
the carton, and then hurried out the door. Hopefully the rain would hold off until I
could find Jessica. It was unusually foggy; the air was smoky
almost with it. The mist was ice cold where it clung to
the exposed skin on my face and neck. I couldn’t wait to get the heat in
going my truck. It was such a thick fog that I was a few
feet down the driveway before I realized there was a car in it: a car.
silver My heart thudded, stuttered, and then up
picked again in double time. I didn’t see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling the
door open for me. “Do you want to ride with me today?” he asked, amused by my expression as he
caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in his voice. He was really giving me a choice—I was to
free refuse, and part of him hoped for that. It was a vain hope. “Yes, thank you,” I said, trying to keep my
voice calm. As I stepped into the warm car, I noticed his tan jacket was slung over
the headrest of the passenger seat. The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be possible, he was to
sitting next me, starting the car. “I brought the jacket
for you. I didn’t want you to get sick or
something.” His voice was guarded. I noticed that he
wore no jacket himself, just a light gray knit V-neck shirt with
long sleeves. Again, the fabric clung to his perfectly
muscled chest. It was a colossal tribute to his face it
that kept my eyes away from his body. “I’m not quite that delicate,” I said, but I pulled the jacket onto my
lap, pushing my arms through the too-long
sleeves, curious to see if the scent could be as I
possibly good as remembered. It was better. “Aren’t you?” he in a so I
contradicted voice low wasn’t sure if he meant for me to hear. We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast, feeling awkward. I was, at least. Last night all the walls were
down… almost all. I didn’t know if we were as
still being candid today. It left me tongue-tied. I waited for him
to speak. He turned to smirk at me. “What, no twenty questions today?” “Do my
questions bother you?” I asked, relieved. “Not as much as your
reactions do.” He looked like he was joking, but I couldn’t be sure. I frowned. “Do I react badly?” “No, that’s the
problem. You take everything so coolly—it’s
unnatural. It makes me wonder what you’re really
thinking.” “I always tell you what I’m really
thinking.” “You edit,” he accused. “Not very much.” “Enough to drive me insane.” “You don’t
want to hear it,” I mumbled, almost whispered. As soon as
the words were out, I regretted them. The pain in my voice I
was very faint; could only hope he hadn’t noticed it. He didn’t respond, and I wondered if I had ruined the mood. His face was unreadable as we drove into
the school parking lot. Something occurred to me belatedly. the
“Where’s rest of your family?” I asked—more than glad to be alone with
him, but remembering that his car was usually
full. “They took Rosalie’s car.” He shrugged as
he parked next to a glossy red convertible with the top up. “Ostentatious, isn’t it?” “Um, wow,” I breathed. “If she has that, why does she ride with you?” “Like I said, it’s ostentatious. We try
to blend in.” “You don’t succeed.” I laughed and shook
my head as we got out of the car. I wasn’t late anymore; his lunatic had me
driving gotten to school in plenty of time. “So why did Rosalie drive today if it’s
more conspicuous?” “Hadn’t you noticed? I’m breaking all the
rules now.” He met me at the front of the car, staying very close to my side as we onto
walked campus. I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch him, but I was afraid he wouldn’t like me to. “Why do you have cars like that at all?” I wondered aloud. “If you’re looking for
privacy?” “An indulgence,” he admitted with an
impish smile. “We all like to drive fast.” “Figures,” I muttered under my breath. Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof’s
overhang, Jessica was waiting, her eyes about to of
bug out their sockets. Over her arm, bless her, was my jacket. “Hey, Jessica,” I said when we were a few
feet away. “Thanks for remembering.” She handed me
my jacket without speaking. “Good morning, Jessica,” Edward said
politely. It wasn’t really his fault that his voice
was so irresistible. Or what his eyes were capable of. “Er… hi.” She shifted her wide eyes to
me, trying to gather her jumbled thoughts. “I guess I’ll see you in Trig.” She gave me a meaningful look, and I suppressed a sigh. What on earth I
was going to tell her? “Yeah, I’ll see you then.” She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her at
shoulder us. “What are you going to tell her?” Edward murmured. “Hey, I thought you read
couldn’t my mind!” I hissed. “I can’t,” he said, startled. Then understanding brightened
his eyes. “However, I can read hers—she’ll be to in
waiting ambush you class.” I groaned as I pulled off his jacket and
handed it to him, replacing it with my own. He folded it
over his arm. “So what are you going to tell her?” “A little help?” I pleaded. “What does to
she want know?” He shook his head, grinning wickedly. “That’s not fair.” “No, you not sharing
what you know—now that’s not fair.” He deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my first
class. “She wants to know if we’re secretly
dating. And she wants to know how you feel about
me,” he finally said. “Yikes. What should I
say?” I tried to keep my expression very
innocent. People were passing us on their way to
class, probably staring, but I was barely aware
of them. “Hmmm.” He paused to catch a stray lock
of hair that was escaping the twist on my neck and wound it back into place. My heart spluttered hyperactively. “I you
suppose could say yes to the first… if you don’t mind—it’s easier than any
other explanation.” “I don’t mind,” I said in a faint voice. “And as for her other question… well, I’ll be listening to hear the to
answer that one myself.” One side of his mouth pulled up into my
favorite uneven smile. I couldn’t catch my breath soon enough to
respond to that remark. He turned and walked away. “I’ll see you
at lunch,” he called over his shoulder. Three people
walking in the door stopped to stare at me. I hurried into class, flushed and
irritated. He was such a cheater. Now I was even I
more worried about what was going to say to Jessica. I sat in my usual seat, slamming my bag down in aggravation. “Morning, Bella,” Mike said from the seat
next to me. I looked up to see an odd, almost resigned look on his face. “How was Port Angeles?” “It was…” There was no honest way to sum it up. “Great,” I finished lamely. “Jessica got
a really cute dress.” “Did she say anything about Monday night?” he asked, his eyes brightening. I smiled
at the turn the conversation had taken. “She said she had a really good time,” I assured him. “She did?” he said eagerly. “Most definitely.” Mr. Mason called the
class to order then, asking us to turn in our papers. English and then Government passed in a
blur, while I worried about how to explain to
things Jessica and agonized over whether Edward would really be listening to what I said the of
through medium Jess’s thoughts. How very inconvenient his little talent
could be—when it wasn’t saving my life. The fog had almost dissolved by the end
of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky. Edward was right, of course. When I into
walked Trig Jessica was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in
agitation. I reluctantly went to sit by her, trying to convince myself it would be to
better get it over with as soon as possible. “Tell me everything!” she I was
commanded before in the seat. “What do you want to know?” I hedged. “What happened last night?” “He bought me dinner, and then he drove
me home.” She glared at me, her expression stiff
with skepticism. “How did you get home so fast?” “He drives like a maniac. It was
terrifying.” I hoped he heard that. “Was it like a you
date—did tell him to meet you there?” I hadn’t thought of that. “No—I was very surprised to see him
there.” Her lips puckered in disappointment at in
the transparent honesty my voice. “But he picked you up for school today?” she probed. “Yes—that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn’t have a jacket
last night,” I explained. “So are you going out again?” “He offered to drive me to Seattle he my
Saturday because thinks truck isn’t up to it—does that count?” “Yes.” She nodded. “Well, then, yes.” “W-o-w.” She the word
exaggerated into three syllables. “Edward Cullen.” “I know,” I agreed. “Wow” didn’t even cover it. “Wait!” Her hands flew up, palms toward me like
she was stopping traffic. “Has he kissed you?” “No,” I mumbled. “It’s not like that.” She looked
disappointed. I’m sure I did, too. “Do you think
Saturday… ?” She raised her eyebrows. “I really
doubt it.” The discontent in my voice was poorly
disguised. “What did you talk about?” She pushed for
more information in a whisper. Class had started but Mr. Varner wasn’t
paying close attention and we weren’t the only ones still talking. “I don’t know, Jess, lots of stuff,” I whispered back. “We talked about the English essay a
little.” A very, very little. I think he mentioned
it in passing. “Please, Bella,” she begged. “Give me
some details.” “Well… okay, I’ve got one. You should
have seen the waitress flirting with him—it was over the top. But he didn’t pay any attention
to her at all.” Let him make what he could of that. “That’s a good sign,” she nodded. “Was she pretty?” “Very—and probably or
nineteen twenty.” “Even better. He must like you.” “I think so, but it’s hard to tell. He’s always so cryptic,” I threw in for
his benefit, sighing. “I don’t know how you’re brave
enough to be alone with him,” she breathed. “Why?” I was shocked, but she didn’t understand my reaction. “He’s so… intimidating. I wouldn’t know
what to say to him.” She made a face, probably remembering or
this morning last night, when he’d turned the overwhelming force
of his eyes on her. “I do have some trouble with incoherency
when I’m around him,” I admitted. “Oh well. He is unbelievably
gorgeous.” Jessica shrugged as if this excused any
flaws. Which, in her book, it probably did. “There’s a lot more to him than that.” “Really? Like what?” I wished I had let
it go. Almost as much as I was hoping he’d been
kidding about listening in. “I can’t explain it right… but he’s the
even more unbelievable behind face.” The vampire who wanted to be good—who ran
around saving people’s lives so he wouldn’t be a monster… I stared toward the front of
the room. “Is that possible?” She giggled. I her,
ignored trying to look like I was paying to Mr.
attention Varner. “So you like him, then?” She wasn’t about to give up. “Yes,” I said curtly. “I mean, do you really like him?” she urged. “Yes,” I said again, blushing. I hoped in
that detail wouldn’t register her thoughts. She’d had enough with the single syllable
answers. “How much do you like him?” “Too much,” I whispered back. “More than
he likes me. But I don’t see how I can help that.” I sighed, one blush blending into the
next. Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on an
Jessica for answer. She didn’t get a chance to start on the
subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I took evasive action. “In English, Mike asked me if you said anything about
Monday night,” I told her. “You’re kidding! What did you
say?!” she gasped, completely sidetracked. “I a
told him you said you had lot of fun—he looked pleased.” “Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!” We spent the rest
of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish on a minute description of
Mike’s facial expressions. I wouldn’t have helped draw it out for as
long as I did if I wasn’t worried about the subject returning to me. And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped
Jessica off. “You’re not sitting with us today, are you?” she guessed. “I don’t think so.” I couldn’t be sure that he wouldn’t
disappear inconveniently again. But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall—looking more a a
like Greek god than anyone had right to—Edward was waiting for me. Jessica took one look, rolled her eyes, and departed. “See you
later, Bella.” Her voice was thick with
implications. I might have to turn off the ringer on
the phone. “Hello.” His voice was amused and at the
irritated same time. He had been listening, it was obvious. “Hi.” I couldn’t think of anything else
to say, and he didn’t speak—biding his time, I presumed—so it was a quiet walk to the
cafeteria. Walking with Edward through the crowded a
lunchtime rush was lot like my first day here; everyone stared. He led the way into the
line, still not speaking, though his eyes to my
returned face every few seconds, their expression speculative. It seemed
to me that irritation was winning out over amusement as the dominant emotion in his face. I fidgeted
nervously with the zipper on my jacket. He stepped up to the counter and filled a
tray with food. “What are you doing?” I objected. “You’re not getting all that for me?” He shook his head, stepping forward to
buy the food. “Half is for me, of course.” I raised one eyebrow. He led the way to
the same place we’d sat that one time before. From the other end of the
long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in as we
amazement sat across from each other. Edward seemed oblivious. “Take whatever
you want,” he said, pushing the tray toward me. “I’m curious,” I said as I picked up an
apple, turning it around in my hands, “what would you do if someone dared you
to eat food?” “You’re always curious.” He grimaced, his
shaking head. He glared at me, holding my eyes as he of
lifted the slice pizza off the tray, and deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I
watched, eyes wide. “If someone dared you to eat
dirt, you could, couldn’t you?” he asked
condescendingly. I wrinkled my nose. “I did once… on a dare,” I admitted. “It wasn’t so
bad.” He laughed. “I suppose I’m not surprised.” Something over my shoulder seemed to his
catch attention. “Jessica’s analyzing everything I break
do—she’ll it down for you later.” He pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Jessica brought a hint of
his former irritation back to his features. I put down the apple and took a bite of
the pizza, looking away, knowing he was about to
start. “So the waitress was pretty, was she?” he asked casually. “You really didn’t
notice?” “No. I wasn’t paying attention. I had a
lot on my mind.” “Poor girl.” I could afford to be now.
generous “Something you said to Jessica… well, it bothers me.” He refused to be
distracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up
from under his lashes with troubled eyes. “I’m not surprised you heard something
you didn’t like. You know what they say about
eavesdroppers,” I reminded him. “I warned you I would be
listening.” “And I warned you that you didn’t want to
know everything I was thinking.” “You did,” he agreed, but his voice was
still rough. “You aren’t precisely right, though. I do
want to know what you’re thinking— everything. I just wish… that you wouldn’t be some
thinking things.” I scowled. “That’s quite a distinction.” “But that’s not really the point at the
moment.” “Then what is?” We were inclined toward
each other across the table now. He had his large white hands folded under
his chin; I leaned forward, my right hand cupped around my neck. I had to remind myself that we were in a
crowded lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us. It was too easy to get wrapped up in our
own private, tense little bubble. “Do you truly that I
believe you care more for me than do for you?” he murmured, leaning closer to
me as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing. I tried to
remember how to exhale. I had to look away before it came back to
me. “You’re doing it again,” I muttered. His eyes opened wide with surprise. “What?” “Dazzling me,” I admitted, trying
to concentrate as I looked back at him. “Oh.” He frowned. “It’s not your fault,” I sighed. “You can’t help it.” “Are you going to answer the question?” I looked down. “Yes.” “Yes, you are going
to answer, or yes, you really think that?” He was irritated again. “Yes, I really
think that.” I kept my eyes down on the table, my eyes tracing the pattern of the faux
wood grains printed on the laminate. The silence dragged on. I stubbornly to
refused be the first to break it this time, fighting hard against the temptation to
peek at his expression. Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. “You’re wrong.” I glanced up to see that
his eyes were gentle. “You can’t know that,” I disagreed in a
whisper. I shook my head in doubt, though my heart throbbed at his words and
I wanted so badly to believe them. “What makes you think so?” His liquid
topaz eyes were penetrating— trying futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight my
from mind. I stared back, struggling to think in of
clearly spite his face, to find some way to explain. As I searched for the words, I could see him getting impatient; by my
frustrated silence, he started to scowl. I lifted my hand my
from neck, and held up one finger. “Let me think,” I insisted. His expression cleared, now I
that he was satisfied that was planning to answer. I dropped my hand to the table, moving my left hand so that my palms were
pressed together. I stared at my hands, twisting and my
untwisting fingers, as I finally spoke. “Well, aside from the
obvious, sometimes…” I hesitated. “I can’t be to
sure—I don’t know how read minds—but sometimes it seems like you’re trying to say goodbye when
you’re saying something else.” That was the best I could sum up the of
sensation anguish that his words triggered in me at times. “Perceptive,” he
whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as he confirmed my fear. “That’s exactly why you’re wrong, though,” he began to explain, but then his eyes
narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘the obvious’?” “Well, look at me,” I said, unnecessarily as he was already staring. “I’m absolutely ordinary— well, except so
for bad things like all the near-death experiences and being clumsy that I’m almost disabled. And look
at you.” I waved my hand toward him and all his
bewildering perfection. His brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his eyes took on a look.
knowing “You don’t see yourself very clearly, you know. I’ll admit you’re dead-on about
the bad things,” he chuckled blackly, “but you didn’t hear
what every human male in this school was thinking on your first day.” I blinked, astonished. “I don’t believe it… ,” I mumbled to myself. “Trust me just this
once—you are the opposite of ordinary.” My embarrassment was much stronger than
my pleasure at the look that came into his eyes when he said this. I quickly reminded him
of my original argument. “But I’m not saying goodbye,” I pointed
out. “Don’t you see? That’s what proves me
right. I care the most, because if I can do his
it”—he shook head, seeming to struggle with the thought—“if
leaving is the right thing to do, then I’ll hurt myself to keep from you,
hurting to keep you safe.” I glared. “And you don’t think I would do the same?” “You’d never have to make the choice.” Abruptly, his unpredictable mood shifted
again; a mischievous, devastating smile rearranged his “Of
features. course, keeping you safe is beginning to feel a
like full-time occupation that requires my constant presence.” “No one has tried to do away with me
today,” I reminded him, grateful for the lighter
subject. I didn’t want him to talk about goodbyes
anymore. If I had to, I supposed I could put in to
purposefully myself danger keep him close…. I banished that thought before
his quick eyes read it on my face. That idea would definitely get me in
trouble. “Yet,” he added. “Yet,” I agreed; I would
have argued, but now I wanted him to be expecting
disasters. “I have another question for you.” His face was still casual. “Shoot.” “Do you really need to go to Seattle this
Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of
saying no to all your admirers?” I made a face at the memory. “You know, I haven’t forgiven you for the
Tyler thing yet,” I warned him. “It’s your fault that he’s
deluded himself into thinking I’m going to prom with him.” “Oh, he would have found a to
chance ask you without me—I just really wanted to watch your face,” he chuckled. I would have been angrier if his laughter
wasn’t so fascinating. “If I’d asked you, would you have turned
me down?” he asked, still laughing to himself. “Probably not,” I admitted. “But I would
have canceled later—faked an illness or a sprained ankle.” He was puzzled. “Why would you do that?” I shook my head sadly. “You’ve never seen
me in Gym, I guess, but I would have thought you
would understand.” “Are you referring to the fact that you a
can’t walk across flat, stable surface without finding something
to trip over?” “Obviously.” “That wouldn’t be a problem.” He was very confident. “It’s all in the
leading.” He could see that I was about to protest, and he cut me off. “But you never told on
me—are you resolved going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something
different?” As long as the “we” part was in, I didn’t care about anything else. “I’m open to alternatives,” I allowed. “But I do have a favor to ask.” He looked wary, as he always did when I
asked an open-ended question. “What?” “Can I drive?” He frowned. “Why?” “Well, mostly because when I told
Charlie I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going and,
alone at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn’t lie, but I don’t he
think will ask again, and leaving my truck at home would just
bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, because your driving frightens
me.” He rolled his eyes. “Of all the things me
about that could frighten you, you worry about my driving.” He shook his
head in disgust, but then his eyes were serious again. “Won’t you want to tell your father that
you’re spending the day with me?” There was an undercurrent to his question
that I didn’t understand. “With Charlie, less is always more.” I was definite about that. “Where are we
going, anyway?” “The weather will be nice, so I’ll be staying out of the public
eye… and you can stay with me, if you’d like to.” Again, he was leaving
the choice up to me. “And you’ll show me what you meant, about the sun?” I asked, excited by the
idea of unraveling another of the unknowns. “Yes.” He smiled, and then paused. “But if you don’t want to be… alone with me, I’d still rather you go to
didn’t Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you in
could find a city that size.” I was miffed. “Phoenix is three times in
bigger than Seattle—just population. In physical size—” “But apparently,” he
interrupted me, “your number wasn’t up in Phoenix. So I’d rather you stayed near me.” His eyes did that unfair smoldering thing
again. I couldn’t argue, with the eyes or the
motivation, and it was a moot point anyway. “As it happens, I don’t mind being alone
with you.” “I know,” he sighed, brooding. “You tell
should Charlie, though.” “Why in the world would I do
that?” His eyes were suddenly fierce. “To give
me some small incentive to bring you back.” I gulped. But, after a moment of thought, I was sure. “I think I’ll take my
chances.” He exhaled angrily, and looked away. “Let’s talk about something else,” I
suggested. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked. He was still annoyed. I glanced around us, making sure we were
well out of anyone’s hearing. As I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Alice, staring at me. The others were at
looking Edward. I looked away swiftly, back to him, and I asked the first thing that came to
mind. “Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place
last weekend… to hunt? Charlie said it wasn’t a good to
place hike, because of bears.” He stared at me as if
I was missing something very obvious. “Bears?” I gasped, and he smirked. “You know, bears are not in season,” I added sternly, to hide my shock. “If you read carefully, the laws only
cover hunting with weapons,” he informed me. He watched my face with
enjoyment as that slowly sank in. “Bears?” I repeated with difficulty. is
“Grizzly Emmett’s favorite.” His voice was still offhand, but his eyes
were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together. “Hmmm,” I said, taking another bite of as
pizza an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, and then took a long of
drink Coke without looking up. “So,” I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze.
“What’s your favorite?” He raised an eyebrow and the corners of
his mouth turned down in disapproval. “Mountain lion.” “Ah,” I said in a tone,
politely disinterested looking for my soda again. “Of course,” he said, and his tone mirrored mine, “we have to be careful not to impact the
environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an of as as
overpopulation predators— ranging far away we need. There’s always plenty of deer
and elk here, and they’ll do, but where’s the fun in
that?” He smiled teasingly. “Where indeed,” I of
murmured around another bite pizza. “Early spring is Emmett’s favorite bear
season— they’re just coming out of hibernation, so they’re more irritable.” He smiled at
some remembered joke. “Nothing more fun than an irritated
grizzly bear,” I agreed, nodding. He snickered, shaking
his head. “Tell me what you’re really thinking, please.” “I’m trying to picture it—but I
can’t,” I admitted. “How do you hunt a bear
without weapons?” “Oh, we have weapons.” He flashed his in
bright teeth a brief, threatening smile. I fought back a shiver
before it could expose me. “Just not the kind they consider when
writing hunting laws. If you’ve ever seen a bear attack on
television, you should be able to visualize Emmett
hunting.” I couldn’t stop the next shiver that down
flashed my spine. I peeked across the cafeteria toward
Emmett, grateful that he wasn’t looking my way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped
his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now. Edward followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at him, unnerved. “Are you like
a bear, too?” I asked in a low voice. “More like the lion, or so they tell me,” he said lightly. “Perhaps our preferences
are indicative.” I tried to smile. “Perhaps,” I repeated. But my mind was filled with opposing that
images I couldn’t merge together. “Is that something I might get to see?” “Absolutely not!” His face turned even
whiter than usual, and his eyes were suddenly furious. I leaned back, stunned and—though I’d it
never admit to him— frightened by his reaction. He leaned back as well, folding his arms
across his chest. “Too scary for me?” I asked when I could
control my voice again. “If that were it, I would take you out
tonight,” he said, his voice cutting. “You need a
healthy dose of fear. Nothing could be more beneficial for you.” “Then why?” I pressed, trying to ignore
his angry expression. He glared at me for a long minute. “Later,” he finally said. He was on his
feet in one lithe movement. “We’re going to be late.” I glanced
around, startled to see that he was right and the
cafeteria was nearly vacant. When I was with him, the time and the a
place were such muddled blur that I completely lost track of both. I jumped up, grabbing my bag from the of
back my chair. “Later, then,” I agreed. I wouldn’t
forget. CHAPTER 11 COMPLICATIONS. complications, twilight
edward desire, twilight forbidden love, twilight bella danger, twilight vampire
romance. Edward’s desire for Bella battles the she
risk faces in Twilight fast read romance. Everyone watched us as we walked together
to our lab table. I noticed that he no longer angled the to
chair sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, he sat me,
quite close beside our arms almost touching. Mr. Banner into
backed the room then—what superb timing the man had—pulling a tall metal frame on wheels that held a
heavy- looking, outdated TV and VCR. A movie day—the lift
in the class atmosphere was almost tangible. Mr. Banner shoved the tape into the VCR
reluctant and walked to the wall to turn off the lights. And then, as the room
went black, I was suddenly hyperaware that Edward was
sitting less than an inch from me. I was stunned by the unexpected that me,
electricity flowed through amazed that it was possible to be more of
aware him than I already was. A crazy impulse to reach over and touch
him, to stroke his perfect face just once in
the darkness, nearly overwhelmed me. I crossed my arms
tightly across my chest, my hands balling into fists. I was losing
my mind. The opening credits began, lighting the a
room by token amount. My eyes, of their own accord, flickered to him. I smiled sheepishly as
I realized his posture was identical to mine, fists clenched under his arms, right down
to the eyes, peering sideways at me. He grinned back, his eyes somehow managing to smolder, even in the dark. I looked away before I
could start hyperventilating. It was absolutely ridiculous that I feel
should dizzy. The hour seemed very long. I couldn’t on
concentrate the movie—I didn’t even know what subject it was on. I tried unsuccessfully to
relax, but the electric current that seemed to
be originating from somewhere in his body never slackened. Occasionally I would permit myself a in
quick glance his direction, but he never seemed to relax, either. The overpowering craving to touch
him also refused to fade, and I crushed my fists safely against my
ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort. I breathed a sigh of relief when
Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at the
end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, flexing my stiff fingers. Edward chuckled
beside me. “Well, that was interesting,” he murmured. His voice was dark and his eyes were
cautious. “Umm,” was all I was able to respond. “Shall we?” he asked, rising fluidly. I almost groaned. Time for Gym. I stood with care, worried my balance by
might have been affected the strange new intensity between us. He walked me to my next class
in silence and paused at the door; I turned to say goodbye. His face me—his
startled expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful
that the ache to touch him flared as strong as before. My goodbye stuck in my throat. He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict in
raging his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my
cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin
was alarmingly warm—like I’d been burned, but didn’t feel the pain of it yet. He turned without a word and strode away
quickly from me. I walked into the gym, lightheaded and
wobbly. I drifted to the locker room, changing in a trancelike state, only that
vaguely aware there were other people surrounding me. Reality didn’t fully set in until I was a
handed racket. It wasn’t heavy, yet it felt very unsafe
in my hand. I could see a few of the other kids in me
class eyeing furtively. Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into
teams. Mercifully, some vestiges of Mike’s still
chivalry survived; he came to stand beside me. “Do you want to be a team?” “Thanks, Mike—you don’t have to do this, you know.” I grimaced apologetically.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep out of your way.” He grinned. Sometimes it was so easy to
like Mike. It didn’t go smoothly. I somehow managed
to hit myself in the head with my racket and clip Mike’s shoulder on the same
swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back
corner of the court, the racket held safely behind my back. Despite being handicapped by me, Mike was
pretty good; he won three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned
high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class. “So,” he said as we walked off the
court. “So what?” “You and Cullen, huh?” he asked, his tone rebellious. My feeling
previous of affection disappeared. “That’s none of your business, Mike,” I warned, internally cursing Jessica to
straight the fiery pits of Hades. “I don’t like it,” he muttered anyway. “You don’t have to,” I snapped. “He looks at you like… like you’re to
something eat,” he continued, ignoring me. I choked back
the hysteria that threatened to explode, but a small giggle managed to get out my
despite efforts. He glowered at me. I waved and fled to
the locker room. I dressed quickly, something stronger the
than butterflies battering recklessly against walls of my stomach, my argument with Mike already a distant
memory. I was wondering if Edward would be
waiting, or if I should meet him at his car. What if his family was there? I felt a of
wave real terror. Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed
to know that they knew that I knew, or not? By the time I walked out of
the gym, I had just about decided to walk straight
home without even looking toward the parking lot. But my worries were unnecessary. Edward
was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the
gym, his breathtaking face untroubled now. As
I walked to his side, I felt a peculiar sense of release. “Hi,” I breathed, smiling hugely. “Hello.” His answering smile was brilliant. “How
was Gym?” My face fell a tiny bit. “Fine,” I lied. “Really?” He was
unconvinced. His eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking over my shoulder and narrowing. I glanced behind me to see Mike’s back as
he walked away. “What?” I demanded. His eyes slid back to
mine, still tight. “Newton’s getting on my
nerves.” “You weren’t listening again?” I was
horror- struck. All traces of my sudden good humor
vanished. “How’s your head?” he asked innocently. “You’re unbelievable!” I turned, stomping
away in the general direction of the parking lot, though I hadn’t ruled out walking at this
point. He kept up with me easily. “You were the one who mentioned how I’d
never seen you in Gym—it made me curious.” He didn’t sound repentant, so I ignored
him. We walked in silence—a furious, silence
embarrassed on my part—to his car. But I had to stop a few steps away—a of
crowd people, all boys, were surrounding it. Then I the
realized they weren’t surrounding Volvo, they were actually circled around red
Rosalie’s convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes. None of
them even looked up as Edward slid between them to open his door. I climbed quickly in
the passenger side, also unnoticed. “Ostentatious,” he “What
muttered. kind of car is that?” I asked. “An M3.” “I don’t speak Car and
Driver.” “It’s a BMW.” He rolled his eyes, not looking at me, trying to back out the
without running over car enthusiasts. I nodded—I’d heard of that one. “Are you still angry?” he asked as he his
carefully maneuvered way out. “Definitely.” He sighed. “Will you me if
forgive I apologize?” “Maybe… if you mean it. And if you not
promise to do it again,” I insisted. His eyes were suddenly shrewd. “How about if I mean it, and I agree to let you drive Saturday?” he countered my conditions. I considered, and decided it was probably the best I
offer would get. “Deal,” I agreed. “Then I’m very sorry I
upset you.” His eyes burned with sincerity for a with
protracted moment— playing havoc the rhythm of my heart—and then turned playful. “And I’ll
be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning.” “Um, it doesn’t help with the Charlie if
situation an unexplained Volvo is left in the driveway.” His smile was condescending
now. “I wasn’t intending to bring a car.” “How—” He cut me off. “Don’t worry about
it. I’ll be there, no car.” I let it go. I had a more pressing question. “Is it later yet?” I asked significantly. He frowned. “I suppose it is later.” I kept my expression polite as I waited. He stopped the car. I looked up, surprised—of course we were already at
Charlie’s house, parked behind the truck. It was easier to
ride with him if I only looked when it was over. When I looked back at him, he was staring at me, measuring with his
eyes. “And you still want to know why you can’t
see me hunt?” He seemed solemn, but I thought I saw a
trace of humor deep in his eyes. “Well,” I clarified, “I was mostly about
wondering your reaction.” “Did I frighten you?” Yes, there was
definitely humor there. “No,” I lied. He didn’t buy it. “I apologize for scaring you,” he with a
persisted slight smile, but then all evidence of teasing
disappeared. “It was just the very thought of you
being there… while we hunted.” His jaw tightened. “That would be bad?” He spoke from teeth.
between clenched “Extremely.” “Because… ?” He took a and
deep breath stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach. “When we hunt,” he spoke slowly, unwillingly, “we give to
ourselves over our senses… govern less with our minds. Especially of
our sense smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost
control that way…” He shook his head, still gazing morosely
at the heavy clouds. I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes to
judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing away. But our eyes
held, and the silence deepened—and changed. of
Flickers the electricity I’d felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as he gazed unrelentingly
into my eyes. It wasn’t until my head started to swim I
that realized I wasn’t breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, he closed his
eyes. “Bella, I think you should go inside now.” His low voice was rough, his eyes on the
clouds again. I opened the door, and the arctic draft
that burst into the car helped clear my head. Afraid I might stumble in my woozy
state, I stepped carefully out of the car and me
shut the door behind without looking back. The whir of the automatic window made me
unrolling turn. “Oh, Bella?” he called after me, his voice more even. He leaned toward the
open window with a faint smile on his lips. “Yes?” “Tomorrow it’s my turn.” “Your turn to what?” He smiled wider, flashing his gleaming teeth. “Ask the
questions.” And then he was gone, the car speeding
down the street and disappearing around the corner before I could even collect my thoughts. I smiled as I walked to the house. It was clear he was planning to see me
tomorrow, if nothing else. That night Edward in my
starred dreams, as usual. However, the climate of my had
unconsciousness changed. It thrilled with the same electricity had
that charged the afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly, waking often. It was only in the early of
hours the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. When
I woke I was still tired, but edgy as well. I pulled on my brown
turtleneck and the inescapable jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of spaghetti and
straps shorts. Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I
expected. Charlie fried eggs for himself; I had my
bowl of cereal. I wondered if he had forgotten about this
Saturday. He answered my unspoken question as he up
stood to take his plate to the sink. “About this Saturday… ,” he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on
the faucet. I cringed. “Yes, Dad?” “Are you still set
on going to Seattle?” he asked. “That was the plan.” I grimaced, wishing he hadn’t brought it
up so I wouldn’t have to compose careful half-truths. He squeezed some dish soap onto his plate
and swirled it around with the brush. “And you’re sure you can’t make it back
in time for the dance?” “I’m not going to the dance, Dad.” I glared. “Didn’t anyone ask you?” he asked, trying to hide his concern by
focusing on rinsing the plate. I sidestepped the minefield. “It’s a
girl’s choice.” “Oh.” He frowned as he dried his plate. I sympathized with him. It must be a hard
thing, to be a father; living in fear that your
daughter would meet a boy she liked, but also having to worry if she didn’t. How ghastly it would be, I thought, shuddering, if Charlie had even the of I
slightest inkling exactly what did like. Charlie left then, with a goodbye wave, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and
gather my books. When I heard the cruiser pull away, I could only wait a few seconds before I
had to peek out of my window. The silver car was already there, waiting in Charlie’s spot on the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and out the
front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine
would continue. I never wanted it to end. He waited in the car, not appearing to as
watch I shut the door behind me without bothering to lock the deadbolt. I walked to the car, pausing shyly before
opening the door and stepping in. He was smiling, relaxed—and, as usual, perfect and beautiful to an excruciating
degree. “Good morning.” His voice was silky. “How are you today?” His eyes roamed over
my face, as if his question was something more
than simple courtesy. “Good, thank you.” I was always good—much
more than good—when I was near him. His gaze lingered on the circles under my
eyes. “You look tired.” “I couldn’t sleep,” I confessed, automatically swinging my my
hair around shoulder to provide some measure of cover. “Neither could I,” he teased as he the
started engine. I was becoming used to the quiet purr. I was sure the roar of my truck would me,
scare whenever I got to drive it again. I laughed. “I guess that’s right. I suppose I slept just a little bit more
than you did.” “I’d wager you did.” “So what did you do
last night?” I asked. He chuckled. “Not a chance. It’s my day to ask questions.” “Oh, that’s right. What do you want to
know?” My forehead creased. I couldn’t imagine
anything about me that could be in any way interesting to him. “What’s your favorite color?” he asked, his face grave. I rolled my
eyes. “It changes from day to day.” “What’s your favorite color today?” He
was still solemn. “Probably brown.” I tended to dress to my
according mood. He snorted, dropping his serious
expression. “Brown?” he asked skeptically. “Sure. is
Brown warm. I miss brown. Everything that’s supposed
to be brown—tree trunks, rocks, dirt—is all covered up with green
squashy stuff here,” I complained. He seemed fascinated by my
little rant. He considered for a moment, staring into
my eyes. “You’re right,” he decided, serious again. “Brown is warm.” He reached over, swiftly, but somehow still hesitantly, to
sweep my hair back behind my shoulder. We were at the school by now. He turned back to me as he pulled into a
parking space. “What music is in your CD player right
now?” he asked, his face as somber as if he’d a
asked for murder confession. I realized I’d never removed the CD Phil
had given me. When I said the name of the band, he smiled crookedly, a peculiar in his
expression eyes. He flipped open a compartment under his
car’s CD player, pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that
were jammed into the small space, and handed it to me. “Debussy to this?” He raised an eyebrow. It was the same CD. I examined the familiar cover art, keeping my eyes down. It continued like
that for the rest of the day. While he walked me to English, when he met me after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he questioned
me relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my existence. Movies I’d liked and hated, the few I’d I
places been and the many places wanted to go, and books— endlessly books. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d so
talked much. More often than not, I felt self-
conscious, certain I must be boring him. But the absolute absorption of his face, and his never-ending stream of questions, compelled me to continue. Mostly his were
questions easy, only a very few triggering my easy
blushes. But when I did flush, it brought on a new
whole round of questions. Such as the time he asked my favorite
gemstone, and I blurted out topaz before thinking. He’d been flinging questions at me with I
such speed that felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you
answer with the first word that comes to mind. I was sure he would have continued down
whatever mental list he was following, except for the blush. My face reddened
because, until very recently, my favorite gemstone
was garnet. It was impossible, while staring back his
into topaz eyes, not to remember the reason for the switch. And, naturally, he wouldn’t rest until I
I’d admitted why was embarrassed. “Tell me,” he finally commanded after I
persuasion failed— failed only because kept my eyes safely away from his face. “It’s the color of
your eyes today,” I sighed, surrendering, staring down at I
my hands as fiddled with a piece of my hair. “I suppose if you asked me in two
weeks I’d say onyx.” I’d given more information than necessary
in my unwilling honesty, and I worried it would provoke the anger
strange that flared whenever I slipped and revealed too clearly how obsessed I was. But his pause was very short. “What kinds of flowers do you prefer?” he fired off. I sighed in relief, and continued with the psychoanalysis. a
Biology was complication again. Edward had continued with his quizzing up
until Mr. Banner entered the room, dragging the
audiovisual frame again. As the teacher approached the light
switch, I noticed Edward slide his chair slightly
farther away from mine. It didn’t help. As soon as the room was
dark, there was the same electric spark, the same restless craving to stretch my
hand across the short space and touch his cold skin, as yesterday. I leaned forward on
the table, resting my chin on my folded arms, my hidden fingers gripping the table’s as
edge I fought to ignore the irrational longing that unsettled me. I didn’t look at him, afraid that if he was looking at me, it would only make self-control that much
harder. I sincerely tried to watch the movie, but at the end of the hour I had no idea
what I’d just seen. I sighed in relief again when Mr. Banner turned the lights on, finally at
glancing Edward; he was looking at me, his eyes ambivalent. He rose in silence
and then stood still, waiting for me. We walked toward the gym
in silence, like yesterday. And, also like yesterday, he touched my face wordlessly— this time
with the back of his cool hand, stroking once from my temple to my he and
jaw—before turned walked away. Gym passed quickly as I watched Mike’s
one-man badminton show. He didn’t speak to me today, either in response to my vacant or he was
expression because still angry about our squabble yesterday. Somewhere, in a corner of my
mind, I felt bad about that. But I couldn’t on
concentrate him. I hurried to change afterward, ill at
ease, knowing the faster I moved, the sooner I
would be with Edward. The pressure made me more clumsy than
usual, but eventually I made it out the door, feeling the same release when I saw him
standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading my
across face. He smiled in reaction before launching
into more cross- examination. His questions were different now, though, not as easily answered. He wanted to know
what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything he
wasn’t familiar with. We sat in front of Charlie’s house for
hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted us
around in a sudden deluge. I tried to describe impossible things the
like scent of creosote— bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant—the
high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to
horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains
covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it a
was so beautiful to me—to justify beauty that didn’t depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half
dead, a beauty that had more to do with the of
exposed shape the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between
the craggy hills, and the way they held on to the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried
to describe it to him. His quiet, probing questions kept me
talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the
conversation. Finally, when I had finished detailing my
cluttered room at home, he paused instead of responding with
another question. “Are you finished?” I asked in relief. “Not even close—but your father will be
home soon.” “Charlie!” I suddenly recalled his
existence, and sighed. I looked out at the rain-
darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. “How late is
it?” I wondered out loud as I glanced at the
clock. I was surprised by the time—Charlie would
be driving home now. “It’s twilight,” Edward murmured, looking
at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. His voice was thoughtful, as if his mind
were somewhere far away. I stared at him as he gazed unseeingly
out the windshield. I was still staring when his eyes shifted
suddenly back to mine. “It’s the safest time of day for us,” he said, answering the unspoken question
in my eyes. “The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way… the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so
predictable, don’t you think?” He smiled wistfully. “I like the night. Without the dark, we’d never see the stars.” I frowned. “Not that you see them here much.” He laughed, and the mood abruptly
lightened. “Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that be
you’ll with me Saturday…” He raised one eyebrow. “Thanks, but no
thanks.” I gathered my books, realizing I was from
stiff sitting still so long. “So is it my turn tomorrow, then?” “Certainly not!” His face was
teasingly outraged. “I told you I wasn’t done, didn’t I?” “What more is there?” “You’ll find out tomorrow.” He reached to
across open my door for me, and his sudden proximity sent my heart
into frenzied palpitations. But his hand froze on the handle. “Not good,” he muttered. “What is it?” I was surprised to see that his jaw was
clenched, his eyes disturbed. He glanced at me for
a brief second. “Another complication,” he said glumly.
He flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly
away from me. The flash of headlights through the rain
caught my attention as a dark car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us. “Charlie’s around the corner,” he warned, staring through the downpour
at the other vehicle. I hopped out at once, despite my and
confusion curiosity. The rain was louder as it glanced off my
jacket. I tried to make out the shapes in the of
front seat the other car, but it was too dark. I could see Edward
illuminated in the glare of the new car’s headlights; he was still staring
ahead, his gaze locked on something or someone I
couldn’t see. His expression was a strange mix of and
frustration defiance. Then he revved the engine, and the tires
squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds. “Hey, Bella,” called a familiar, husky of
voice from the driver’s side the little black car. “Jacob?” I asked, squinting through the
rain. Just then, Charlie’s cruiser swung around
the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of in
the car front of me. Jacob was already climbing out, his wide
grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat was a much older
man, a heavyset man with a memorable face—a
face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the russet
skin like an old leather jacket. And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black
eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they
were set in. Jacob’s father, Billy Black. I knew him
immediately, though in the more than five years since
I’d seen him last I’d managed to forget his name when Charlie had spoken of him
my first day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my
face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes were wide, as if in shock or
fear, his nostrils flared. My smile faded. Another complication, Edward had said. at
Billy still stared me with intense, anxious eyes. I groaned internally. Had
Billy recognized Edward so easily? Could he really believe the impossible legends his son had scoffed in
at? The answer was clear Billy’s eyes. Yes. Yes, he could. CHAPTER 12 BALANCING. balancing, twilight edward
world, twilight bella vampire love, twilight forbidden balance, twilight
romance fantasy. Edward shows Bella his world, human and
vampire lives collide in Twilight speed reading. “BILLY!” charlie called as soon as he got
out of the car. I turned toward the house, beckoning to I
Jacob as ducked under the porch. I heard Charlie greeting them loudly me.
behind “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you
behind the wheel, Jake,” he said disapprovingly. “We get on
permits early the rez,” Jacob said while I unlocked the door and
flicked on the porch light. “Sure you do,” Charlie laughed. “I have
to get around somehow.” I recognized Billy’s resonant voice
easily, despite the years. The sound of it made
me feel suddenly younger, a child. I went inside, leaving the door
open behind me and turning on lights before I hung up my jacket. Then I stood in the
door, watching anxiously as Charlie and Jacob
helped Billy out of the car and into his wheelchair. I backed out of the way as the three of
them hurried in, shaking off the rain. “This is a
surprise,” Charlie was saying. “It’s been too long,” Billy answered. “I hope it’s not a bad
time.” His dark eyes flashed up to me again, their expression unreadable. “No, it’s
great. I hope you can stay for the game.” Jacob grinned. “I think that’s the TV
plan—our broke last week.” Billy made a face at his son. “And, of course, Jacob was anxious to see
Bella again,” he added. Jacob scowled and ducked his I
head while fought back a surge of remorse. Maybe I’d been too convincing on the
beach. “Are you hungry?” I asked, turning toward
the kitchen. I was eager to escape Billy’s searching
gaze. “Naw, we ate just before we came,” Jacob answered. “How about you, Charlie?” I called over my shoulder as I fled the
around corner. “Sure,” he replied, his voice moving in
the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Billy’s chair follow. The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the
frying pan and I was slicing up a tomato when I sensed someone behind me. “So, how are things?” Jacob asked. “Pretty good.” I smiled. His enthusiasm
was hard to resist. “How about you? Did you finish your car?” “No.” He frowned. “I still need parts. We borrowed that one.” He pointed with in
his thumb the direction of the front yard. “Sorry. I haven’t seen any… what was it
you were looking for?” “Master cylinder.” He grinned. “Is wrong
something with the truck?” he added suddenly. “No.” “Oh. I just you
wondered because weren’t driving it.” I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to the
check bottom side. “I got a ride with a friend.” “Nice ride.” Jacob’s voice was admiring. “I didn’t recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around
here.” I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes
down as I flipped sandwiches. “My dad seemed to know him from
somewhere.” “Jacob, could you hand me some plates? in
They’re the cupboard over the sink.” “Sure.” He got the plates in silence. I hoped he would let it drop now. “So who was it?” he asked, setting two plates on the counter next to
me. I sighed in defeat. “Edward Cullen.” To my surprise, he laughed. I glanced up
at him. He looked a little embarrassed. “Guess
that explains it, then,” he said. “I wondered why my dad so
was acting strange.” “That’s right.” I faked an innocent
expression. “He doesn’t like the Cullens.” old man,”
“Superstitious Jacob muttered under his breath. “You say
don’t think he’d anything to Charlie?” I couldn’t help asking, the words coming
out in a low rush. Jacob stared at me for a moment, and I couldn’t read the expression in his
dark eyes. “I doubt it,” he finally answered. “I think Charlie chewed him out pretty
good last time. They haven’t spoken much since— tonight a
is sort of reunion, I think. I don’t think he’d bring it up
again.” “Oh,” I said, trying to sound indifferent. I stayed in the front room after I the to
carried food out Charlie, pretending to watch the game while Jacob
chattered at me. I was really listening to the men’s
conversation, watching for any sign that Billy was to
about rat me out, trying to think of ways to stop him if he
began. It was a long night. I had a lot of that
homework was going undone, but I was afraid to leave Billy alone
with Charlie. Finally, the game ended. “Are you and to
your friends coming back the beach soon?” Jacob asked as he pushed his father over
the lip of the threshold. “I’m not sure,” I hedged. “That was fun, Charlie,” Billy said. “Come up for the
next game,” Charlie encouraged. “Sure, sure,” Billy
said. “We’ll be here. Have a good night.” His eyes shifted to mine, and his smile
disappeared. “You take care, Bella,” he added
seriously. “Thanks,” I muttered, looking away. I for
headed the stairs while Charlie waved from the doorway. “Wait, Bella,” he said. I cringed. Had Billy gotten something in before I’d
joined them in the living room? But Charlie was relaxed, still grinning from the visit.
unexpected “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you
tonight. How was your day?” “Good.” I hesitated on
with one foot the first stair, searching for details I could safely
share. “My badminton team won all four games.” “Wow, I didn’t know you could play
badminton.” “Well, actually I can’t, but my partner
is really good,” I admitted. “Who is it?” he asked with
token interest. “Um… Mike Newton,” I told him
reluctantly. “Oh yeah—you said you were friends with
the Newton kid.” He perked up. “Nice family.” He mused for
a minute. “Why didn’t you ask him to the dance this
weekend?” “Dad!” I groaned. “He’s kind of dating my
friend Jessica. Besides, you know I can’t dance.” “Oh yeah,” he muttered. Then he smiled at
me apologetically. “So I guess it’s good you’ll be gone
Saturday… I’ve made plans to go fishing with the
guys from the station. The weather’s supposed to be real warm. But if you wanted to put your trip off go
till someone could with you, I’d stay home. I know I leave you here
alone too much.” “Dad, you’re doing a great job.” I smiled, hoping my relief didn’t show. “I’ve never minded being alone—I’m too
much like you.” I winked at him, and he smiled his smile.
crinkly-eyed I slept better that night, too tired to
dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. The tense evening I
with Billy and Jacob seemed harmless enough now; decided to forget it completely. I caught
myself whistling while I was pulling the front part of my hair back into a barrette, and later again as I skipped down the
stairs. Charlie noticed. “You’re cheerful this
morning,” he commented over breakfast. I shrugged. “It’s Friday.” I hurried so I would be to
ready go the second Charlie left. I had my bag ready, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed I
to the door as soon as was sure Charlie would be out of sight, Edward was faster. He was waiting in his
shiny car, windows down, engine off. I didn’t this
hesitate time, climbing in the passenger side quickly, the sooner to see his face. He grinned his crooked smile at me, stopping my breath and my heart. I couldn’t imagine how an angel could be
any more glorious. There was nothing about him that could be
improved upon. “How did you sleep?” he asked. I wondered if he had any idea how his
appealing voice was. “Fine. How was your night?” “Pleasant.” His smile was amused; I felt like I was
missing an inside joke. “Can I ask what you did?” I asked. “No.” He grinned. “Today is
still mine.” He wanted to know about people today:
more about Renée, her hobbies, what we’d done in our free
time together. And then the one grandmother I’d known, my few school friends— embarrassing me he
when asked about boys I’d dated. I was relieved that I’d never really
dated anyone, so that particular conversation couldn’t
last long. He seemed as surprised as Jessica and by
Angela my lack of romantic history. “So you never met anyone you wanted?” he asked in a serious tone that made me
wonder what he was thinking about. I was grudgingly honest. “Not in Phoenix.” His lips pressed together into a hard
line. We were in the cafeteria at this point. The day had sped by in the blur that was
rapidly becoming routine. I took advantage of his brief pause to a
take bite of my bagel. “I should have let you drive yourself
today,” he announced, apropos of nothing, while I
chewed. “Why?” I demanded. “I’m leaving with
Alice after lunch.” “Oh.” I blinked, bewildered and
disappointed. “That’s okay, it’s not that far of a
walk.” He frowned at me impatiently. “I’m not to
going make you walk home. We’ll go get your truck and leave it here
for you.” “I don’t have my key with me,” I sighed. “I really don’t mind walking.” What I minded was losing my time with him. He shook his head. “Your truck will be
here, and the key will be in the ignition— it.”
unless you’re afraid someone might steal He laughed at the thought. “All right,” I agreed, pursing my lips. I was pretty
sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry
room. Even if he broke into my house, or whatever he was planning, he’d never
find it. He seemed to feel the challenge in my
consent. He smirked, overconfident. “So where are
you going?” I asked as casually as I could manage. “Hunting,” he answered grimly. “If I’m to
going be alone with you tomorrow, I’m going to take whatever precautions I
can.” His face grew morose… and pleading. “You can always cancel, you know.” I looked down, afraid of the persuasive
power of his eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear him, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn’t matter, I repeated in my head. “No,” I whispered, glancing back at his
face. “I can’t.” “Perhaps you’re right,” he
murmured bleakly. His eyes seemed to darken in color as I
watched. I changed the subject. “What time will I
see you tomorrow?” I asked, already depressed by the thought
of him leaving now. “That depends… it’s a Saturday, don’t
you want to sleep in?” he offered. “No,” I answered too fast. He restrained a smile. “The same time as
usual, then,” he decided. “Will Charlie be
there?” “No, he’s fishing tomorrow.” I beamed at
the memory of how conveniently things had worked out. His voice turned sharp. “And if you don’t
come home, what will he think?” “I have no idea,” I answered coolly. “He knows I’ve been to
meaning do the laundry. Maybe he’ll think I fell in the washer.” He scowled at me and I scowled back. His anger was much more impressive than
mine. “What are you hunting tonight?” I asked I
when was sure I had lost the glowering contest. “Whatever we find in the park. We aren’t going far.” He seemed bemused
by my casual reference to his secret realities. “Why are you going with Alice?” I wondered. “Alice is the most… supportive.” He frowned as he spoke. “And the others?” I asked timidly. “What are they?” His brow puckered for a
brief moment. “Incredulous, for the most part.” I me at
peeked quickly behind his family. They sat staring off in different
directions, exactly the same as the first time I’d
seen them. Only now they were four; their beautiful, bronze- haired brother sat across from me, his golden eyes troubled. “They don’t
like me,” I guessed. “That’s not it,” he disagreed, but his eyes were too innocent. “They don’t understand why I can’t leave
you alone.” I grimaced. “Neither do I, for that
matter.” Edward shook his head slowly, rolling his
eyes toward the ceiling before he met my gaze again. “I told you—you don’t see yourself
clearly at all. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever known. You fascinate me.” I glared at him, sure he was teasing now. He smiled as he
deciphered my expression. “Having the advantages I do,” he murmured, touching his forehead discreetly, “I have
a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you… you do
never what I expect. You always take me by surprise.” I looked away, my eyes wandering back to
his family, embarrassed and dissatisfied. His words a
made me feel like science experiment. I wanted to laugh at myself for expecting
anything else. “That part is easy enough to explain,” he continued. I felt his eyes on my face
but I couldn’t look at him yet, afraid he might read the chagrin in my
eyes. “But there’s more… and it’s not so easy
to put into words—” I was still staring at the Cullens while
he spoke. Suddenly Rosalie, his blond and sister,
breathtaking turned to look at me. No, not to look—to glare, with dark, cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but her gaze held me until Edward broke
off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under his breath. It was almost a hiss. Rosalie turned her head, and I was to be
relieved free. I looked back at Edward—and I knew he see
could the confusion and fear that widened my eyes. His face was tight as he
explained. “I’m sorry about that. She’s just worried. You see… it’s dangerous for more than
just me if, after spending so much time with you so
publicly…” He looked down. “If?” “If this ends… badly.” He dropped his head into his
hands, as he had that night in Port Angeles. His anguish was plain; I yearned to him,
comfort but I was at a loss to know how. My hand reached toward him involuntarily;
quickly, though, I dropped it to the table, fearing that my touch would only make
things worse. I realized slowly that his words should
frighten me. I waited for that fear to come, but all I could seem to feel was an ache
for his pain. And frustration— frustration that Rosalie
had interrupted whatever he was about to say. I didn’t know how to bring it up again. He still had his head in his hands. I tried to speak in a normal voice. “And you have to leave now?” “Yes.” He raised his face; it was serious
for a moment, and then his mood shifted and he smiled. “It’s probably for the best. We still of
have fifteen minutes that wretched movie left to endure in Biology—I don’t think I could
take any more.” I started. Alice—her short, inky hair in
a halo of spiky disarray around her exquisite, elfin face—was suddenly standing behind
his shoulder. Her slight frame was willowy, graceful in
even absolute stillness. He greeted her without looking away from
me. “Alice.” “Edward,” she answered, her high
soprano voice almost as attractive as his. “Alice, Bella—Bella, Alice,” he us,
introduced gesturing casually with his hand, a wry
smile on his face. “Hello, Bella.” Her brilliant obsidian
eyes were unreadable, but her smile was friendly. “It’s nice to
finally meet you.” Edward flashed a dark look at her. “Hi, Alice,” I murmured shyly. “Are you
ready?” she asked him. His voice was aloof. “Nearly. I’ll meet you at the car.” She left without another word; her walk
was so fluid, so sinuous that I felt a sharp pang of
jealousy. “Should I say ‘have fun,’ or is that the
wrong sentiment?” I asked, turning back to him. “No, ‘have fun’ works as well as
anything.” He grinned. “Have fun, then.” I worked to
sound wholehearted. Of course I didn’t fool him. “I’ll try.” He still grinned. “And you to
try be safe, please.” “Safe in Forks—what a challenge.” “For you it is a challenge.” His jaw hardened. “Promise.” “I promise
to try to be safe,” I recited. “I’ll do the laundry ought to
tonight—that be fraught with peril.” “Don’t fall in,” he mocked. “I’ll do my
best.” He stood then, and I rose, too. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I sighed. “It seems like a long time to you, doesn’t it?” he mused. I nodded glumly. “I’ll be there in the morning,” he promised, smiling his crooked smile. He reached across the table to touch my
face, lightly brushing along my cheekbone again. Then he turned and walked away. I stared after him until he was gone. I was sorely tempted to ditch the rest of
the day, at the very least Gym, but a warning me.
instinct stopped I knew that if I disappeared now, Mike and others would assume I was with
Edward. And Edward was worried about the time
we’d spent together publicly… if things went wrong. I refused to dwell
on the last thought, concentrating instead on making things
safer for him. I intuitively knew—and sensed he did, too—that tomorrow would be pivotal. Our
relationship couldn’t continue to balance, as it did, on the point of a knife. We would fall off one edge or the other, depending entirely upon his decision, or
his instincts. My decision was made, made before I’d
ever consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing it through. Because there was nothing more terrifying
to me, more excruciating, than the thought of
turning away from him. It was an impossibility. I went to class, feeling dutiful. I couldn’t honestly say
what happened in Biology; my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow. In Gym, Mike was to
speaking me again; he wished me a good time in Seattle. I carefully explained my
that I’d canceled trip, worried about my truck. “Are you going to
the dance with Cullen?” he asked, suddenly sulky. “No, I’m not to
going the dance at all.” “What are you doing, then?” he asked, too interested. My natural urge was to to
tell him butt out. Instead, I lied brightly. “Laundry, and I
then have to study for the Trig test or I’m going to fail.” “Is Cullen helping
you study?” “Edward,” I emphasized, “is not going to
help me study. He’s gone away somewhere for the weekend.” The lies came more naturally than usual, I noted with surprise. “Oh.” He perked up. “You know, you could come to the dance be
with our group anyway—that would cool. We’d all dance with you,” he promised. The mental image of Jessica’s face made
my tone sharper than necessary. “I’m not going to the dance, Mike, okay?” “Fine.” He sulked again. “I was just offering.” When the school
day had finally ended, I walked to the parking lot without
enthusiasm. I did not especially want to walk home, but I couldn’t see how he would have my
retrieved truck. Then again, I was starting to believe was
that nothing impossible for him. The latter instinct proved correct—my sat
truck in the same space he’d parked his Volvo in this morning. I shook my head, incredulous, as I opened the unlocked and
door saw the key in the ignition. There was a piece of white paper folded
on my seat. I got in and closed the door before I it.
unfolded Two words were written in his elegant
script. Be safe. The sound of the truck roaring
to life frightened me. I laughed at myself. When I got home, the handle of the door was locked, the dead bolt unlocked, just as I’d left
it this morning. Inside, I went straight to the laundry
room. It looked just the same as I’d left it, too. I dug for my jeans and, after finding them, checked the pockets. Empty. Maybe I’d hung my key up after all, I thought, shaking my head. Following the
same instinct that had prompted me to lie to Mike, I called Jessica on the pretense of
wishing her luck at the dance. When she offered the same wish for my day
with Edward, I told her about the cancellation. She was more disappointed than really for
necessary a third-party observer to be. I said goodbye quickly after that. Charlie was absentminded at dinner, over
worried something at work, I guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying the
lasagna—it was hard to tell with Charlie. “You know, Dad… ,” I began, breaking into his reverie. “What’s that, Bell?” “I think you’re right about
Seattle. I think I’ll wait until Jessica or else
someone can go with me.” “Oh,” he said, surprised. “Oh, okay. So, do you want me to stay home?” “No, Dad, don’t change your plans. I’ve got a million things to do… homework, laundry… I need to go to the
library and the grocery store. I’ll be in and out all day… you go and have fun.” “Are you sure?” “Absolutely, Dad. Besides, the freezer is
getting dangerously low on fish—we’re down to a two, maybe three years’ supply.” “You’re sure
easy to live with, Bella.” He smiled. “I could say the same
thing about you,” I said, laughing. The sound of my was
laughter off, but he didn’t seem to notice. I felt so guilty for deceiving him that I
almost took Edward’s advice and told him where I would be. Almost. After dinner, I folded clothes and moved another load
through the dryer. Unfortunately it was the kind of job that
only keeps hands busy. My mind definitely had too much free time, and it was getting out of control. I fluctuated between anticipation so that
intense it was very nearly pain, and an insidious fear that picked at my
resolve. I had to keep reminding myself that I’d
made my choice, and I wasn’t going back on it. I pulled his note out of my pocket much
more often than necessary to absorb the two small words he’d written. He wants me
to be safe, I told myself again and again. I would just hold on to the faith that, in the end, that desire would win out the
over others. And what was my other choice—to cut him
out of my life? Intolerable. Besides, since I’d come to Forks, it really seemed like my life was about
him. But a tiny voice in the back of my mind
worried, wondering if it would hurt very much… if it ended badly. I was relieved when it
was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I knew I was far too stressed to
sleep, so I did something I’d never done before. I deliberately took unnecessary cold kind
medicine—the that knocked me out for a good eight hours. I normally wouldn’t condone that type of
behavior in myself, but tomorrow would be complicated enough
without me being loopy from sleep deprivation on top of everything else. While I waited for the
drugs to kick in, I dried my clean hair till it was
impeccably straight, and fussed over what I would wear
tomorrow. With everything ready for the morning, I finally lay in my bed. I felt hyper; I couldn’t stop twitching. I got up and rifled through my shoebox of
CDs until I found a collection of Chopin’s nocturnes. I put that on very
quietly and then lay down again, concentrating on relaxing individual of
parts my body. Somewhere in the middle of that exercise, the cold pills took effect, and I gladly
sank into unconsciousness. I woke early, having slept soundly and to
dreamlessly thanks my gratuitous drug use. Though I was well rested, I slipped right
back into the same hectic frenzy from the night before. I dressed in a rush, smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan sweater till it my
hung right over jeans. I sneaked a swift look out the window to
see that Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of clouds veiled
the sky. They didn’t look very lasting. I ate the
breakfast without tasting food, hurrying to clean up when I was done. I peeked out the window again, but nothing had changed. I had just my
finished brushing teeth and was heading back downstairs when a quiet knock sent my heart thudding
against my rib cage. I flew to the door; I had a little with
trouble the simple deadbolt, but I yanked the door open at last, and there he was. All the agitation as as
dissolved soon I looked at his face, calm taking its place. I breathed a sigh
of relief— yesterday’s fears seemed very foolish with him here. He wasn’t smiling at first—his
face was somber. But then his expression lightened as he
looked me over, and he laughed. “Good morning,” he
chuckled. “What’s wrong?” I glanced down to make I
sure hadn’t forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants. “We match.” He laughed again. I realized he had a
long, light tan sweater on, with a white collar
showing underneath, and blue jeans. I laughed with him, hiding a secret twinge of regret—why did
he have to look like a runway model when I couldn’t? I locked the door behind me
while he walked to the truck. He waited by the passenger door with a to
martyred expression that was easy understand. “We made a deal,” I reminded him smugly, climbing into the driver’s seat, and over
reaching to unlock his door. “Where to?” I asked. “Put your seat belt
on—I’m nervous already.” I gave him a dirty look as I complied. “Where to?” I repeated with a sigh. “Take the one-oh-one north,” he ordered. It was surprisingly difficult to on the
concentrate road while feeling his gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully
than usual through the still- sleeping town. “Were you planning to make it out of
Forks before nightfall?” “This truck is old enough to be your have
car’s grandfather— some respect,” I retorted. We were soon out of the town
limits, despite his negativity. Thick underbrush
and green- swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses. “Turn right on the one-ten,” he just as I
instructed was about to ask. I obeyed silently. “Now we drive until
the pavement ends.” I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the
road and proving him right to look over and be sure. “And what’s there, at the pavement’s end?” I wondered. “A trail.” “We’re hiking?” Thank goodness
I’d worn tennis shoes. “Is that a problem?” He sounded as if as
he’d expected much. “No.” I tried to make the lie sound
confident. But if he thought my truck was slow… “Don’t worry, it’s only five miles or so, and we’re in no hurry.” Five miles. I didn’t answer, so that he wouldn’t hear
my voice crack in panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose
stones, trying to twist my ankles or otherwise
incapacitate me. This was going to be humiliating. We drove in silence for a while as I the
contemplated coming horror. “What are you thinking?” he asked after a
impatiently few moments. I lied again. “Just wondering where we’re
going.” “It’s a place I like to go when the is
weather nice.” We both glanced out the windows at the he
thinning clouds after spoke. “Charlie said it would be warm today.” “And did you tell Charlie what you were
up to?” he asked. “Nope.” “But Jessica thinks to
we’re going Seattle together?” He seemed cheered by the idea. “No, I told her you canceled on me—which
is true.” “No one knows you’re with me?” Angrily, now. “That depends… I assume
you told Alice?” “That’s very helpful, Bella,” he snapped. I pretended I didn’t hear that. “Are you so depressed by Forks that it’s
made you suicidal?” he demanded when I ignored him. “You said it might cause trouble for
you… us being together publicly,” I reminded
him. “So you’re worried about the trouble it
might cause me—if you don’t come home?” His voice was still angry, and bitingly
sarcastic. I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road. He muttered something under his breath, speaking so quickly that I couldn’t
understand. We were silent for the rest of the drive. I could feel the waves of infuriated off
disapproval rolling of him, and I could think of nothing to say. And then the road ended, constricting to
a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and out,
stepped afraid because he was angry with me and I
didn’t have driving as an excuse not to look at him. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since
the day I’d arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled
off my sweater and knotted it around my waist, glad that I’d worn the light, sleeveless shirt— especially if I had of
five miles hiking ahead of me. I heard his door slam, and looked over to
see that he’d removed his sweater, too. He was facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck. “This way,” he said, glancing over his at
shoulder me, eyes still annoyed. He started into the
dark forest. “The trail?” Panic was clear in my voice
as I hurried around the truck to catch up to him. “I said there was a trail at
the end of the road, not that we were taking it.” “No trail?” I asked desperately. “I won’t
let you get lost.” He turned then, with a mocking smile, and I stifled a gasp. His white shirt was
sleeveless, and he wore it unbuttoned, so that the of
smooth white skin his throat flowed uninterrupted over the marble contours of his chest, his perfect musculature no longer merely
hinted at behind concealing clothes. He was too perfect, I realized with a of
piercing stab despair. There was no way this godlike creature be
could meant for me. He stared at me, bewildered by my
tortured expression. “Do you want to go home?” he said quietly, a different pain than
mine saturating his voice. “No.” I walked forward till I was close
beside him, anxious not to waste one second of time I
whatever might have with him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice
gentle. “I’m not a good hiker,” I answered dully. “You’ll have to be very patient.” “I can be patient—if I make a great
effort.” He smiled, holding my glance, trying to
lift me out of my sudden, unexplained dejection. I tried to smile
back, but the smile was unconvincing. He my
scrutinized face. “I’ll take you home,” he promised. I couldn’t tell if the promise was
unconditional, or restricted to an immediate departure. I knew he thought it was fear that upset
me, and I was grateful again that I was the
one person whose mind he couldn’t hear. “If you want me to hack five miles the
through jungle before sundown, you’d better start leading the way,” I said acidly. He frowned at me, struggling to understand my tone and
expression. He gave up after a moment and led the way
into the forest. It wasn’t as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and he held the
damp ferns and webs of moss aside for me. When his straight path took us or
over fallen trees boulders, he would help me, lifting me by the elbow, and then releasing me instantly when I
was clear. His cold touch on my skin never failed to
make my heart thud erratically. Twice, when that happened, I caught a on
look his face that made me sure he could somehow hear it. I tried to keep my
eyes away from his perfection as much as possible, but I slipped often. Each time, his beauty pierced me through
with sadness. For the most part, we walked in silence. Occasionally he would ask a random that
question he hadn’t gotten to in the past two days of interrogation. He asked about my
birthdays, my grade school teachers, my childhood I
pets—and had to admit that after killing three fish in a row, I’d given up on the whole
institution. He laughed at that, louder than I was to
used to—bell-like echoes bouncing back us from the empty woods. The hike took me most of
the morning, but he never showed any sign of
impatience. The forest spread out around us in a of
boundless labyrinth ancient trees, and I began to be nervous that we would
never find our way out again. He was perfectly at ease, comfortable in
the green maze, never seeming to feel any doubt about our
direction. After several hours, the light that the
filtered through canopy transformed, the murky olive tone shifting to a jade.
brighter The day had turned sunny, just as he’d
foretold. For the first time since we’d entered the
woods, I felt a thrill of excitement— which to
quickly turned impatience. “Are we there yet?” I teased, pretending to scowl. “Nearly.” He smiled
at the change in my mood. “Do you see the brightness ahead?” I peered into the thick forest. “Um, should I?” He smirked. “Maybe it’s a
bit soon for your eyes.” “Time to visit the optometrist,” I
muttered. His smirk grew more pronounced. But then, after another hundred yards, I could see
definitely a lightening in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my eagerness with
growing every step. He let me lead now, following noiselessly. I reached the edge of the pool of light
and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the loveliest place I had ever
seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers— violet,
yellow, and soft white. Somewhere nearby, I could
hear the bubbling music of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling a
the circle with haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, awestruck, through the
soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. I halfway turned, wanting to share this
with him, but he wasn’t behind me where I thought
he’d be. I spun around, searching for him with
sudden alarm. Finally I spotted him, still under the of
dense shade the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious
eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty
of the meadow had driven from my mind—the enigma of Edward and the sun, which he’d promised to illustrate for me
today. I took a step back toward him, my eyes alight with curiosity. His eyes
were wary, reluctant. I smiled encouragingly and to
beckoned him with my hand, taking another step back to him. He held up a hand in warning, and I hesitated, rocking back onto my
heels. Edward seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright
glow of the midday sun. CHAPTER 13 CONFESSIONS. confessions, twilight edward
truth, twilight cullen family revealed, twilight bella love story, twilight
vampire confession. Edward confesses his family’s truth and
love for Bella in Twilight video book moment. Edward in the sunlight was shocking. i couldn’t get used to it, though I’d been staring at him all
afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush
from yesterday’s hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of in
tiny diamonds were embedded the surface. He lay perfectly still in the grass, his shirt open over his sculpted, incandescent chest, his scintillating
arms bare. His glistening, pale lavender lids were
shut, though of course he didn’t sleep. A perfect statue, carved in some unknown
stone, smooth like marble, glittering like
crystal. Now and then, his lips would move, so fast it looked like they were
trembling. But, when I asked, he told me he was to
singing himself; it was too low for me to hear. I enjoyed the sun, too, though the air wasn’t quite dry for
enough my taste. I would have liked to lie back, as he did, and let the sun warm my face. But I stayed curled up, my chin resting
on my knees, unwilling to take my eyes off him. The wind was gentle; it tangled my hair
and ruffled the grass that swayed around his motionless form. The meadow, so to me at
spectacular first, paled next to his magnificence.
Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would a
disappear like mirage, too beautiful to be real… hesitantly, I reached out one finger and stroked the
back of his shimmering hand, where it lay within my reach. I marveled again at the perfect texture, satin smooth, cool as stone. When I up
looked again, his eyes were open, watching me. Butterscotch today, lighter, warmer after
hunting. His quick smile turned up the corners of
his flawless lips. “I don’t scare you?” he asked playfully, but I could hear the real curiosity in
his soft voice. “No more than usual.” He smiled wider; in
his teeth flashed the sun. I inched closer, stretched out my whole
hand now to trace the contours of his forearm with my fingertips. I saw that my fingers
trembled, and knew it wouldn’t escape his notice. “Do you mind?” I asked, for he had closed
his eyes again. “No,” he said without opening his eyes. “You can’t imagine how that feels.” He sighed. I lightly trailed my hand over
the perfect muscles of his arm, followed the faint pattern of bluish the
veins inside crease at his elbow. With my other hand, I reached to turn his
hand over. Realizing what I wished, he flipped his
palm up in one of those blindingly fast, disconcerting movements of his. It me; my
startled fingers froze on his arm for a brief second. “Sorry,” he murmured. I looked up
in time to see his golden eyes close again. “It’s too easy to be myself with you.” I lifted his hand, turning it this way as
and that I watched the sun glitter on his palm. I held it closer to my face, trying to see the hidden facets in his
skin. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he
whispered. I looked to see his eyes watching me, suddenly intent. “It’s still so strange
for me, not knowing.” “You know, the rest of us
feel that way all the time.” “It’s a hard life.” Did I imagine the of
hint regret in his tone? “But you didn’t tell me.” “I was wishing I could
know what you were thinking…” I hesitated. “And?” “I was wishing that I
could believe that you were real. And I was wishing that I wasn’t afraid.” “I don’t want you to be afraid.” His voice was just a soft murmur. I heard what he couldn’t truthfully say, that I didn’t need to be afraid, that there was nothing to fear. “Well, that’s not exactly the fear I
meant, though that’s certainly something to
think about.” So quickly that I missed his movement, he was half sitting, propped up on his
right arm, his left palm still in my hands. His angel’s face was only a few inches
from mine. I might have—should have— flinched away
from his unexpected closeness, but I was unable to move. His golden eyes mesmerized me. “What are
you afraid of, then?” he whispered intently. But I
couldn’t answer. As I had just that once before, I smelled his cool breath in my face. Sweet, delicious, the scent made my mouth
water. It was unlike anything else.
Instinctively, unthinkingly, I leaned closer, inhaling.
And he was gone, his hand ripped from mine. In the time it
took my eyes to focus, he was twenty feet away, standing at the
edge of the small meadow, in the deep shade of a huge fir tree. He stared at me, his eyes dark in the
shadows, his expression unreadable. I could feel
the hurt and shock on my face. My empty hands stung. “I’m… sorry… Edward,” I whispered. I knew he could
hear. “Give me a moment,” he called, just loud enough for my less sensitive
ears. I sat very still. After ten incredibly
long seconds, he walked back, slowly for him. He stopped, still several feet away, and sank gracefully to the ground, crossing his legs. His eyes never left
mine. He took two deep breaths, and then smiled
in apology. “I am so very sorry.” He hesitated. “Would you understand what I meant if I I
said was only human?” I nodded once, not quite able to smile at
his joke. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as the
realization of danger slowly sank in. He could smell that from where he sat. His smile turned mocking. “I’m the best
world’s predator, aren’t I? Everything about me invites you
in—my voice, my face, even my smell. As if I need any
of that!” Unexpectedly, he was on his feet, bounding away, instantly out of sight, only to appear beneath the same tree as
before, having circled the meadow in half a
second. “As if you could outrun me,” he laughed bitterly. He reached up with
one hand and, with a deafening crack, effortlessly a of
ripped two-foot- thick branch from the trunk the spruce. He balanced it in that hand for a moment, and then threw it with blinding speed, shattering it against another huge tree, which shook and trembled at the blow. And he was in front of me again, standing two feet away, still as a stone. “As if you could fight me off,” he said gently. I sat without moving, more frightened of him than I had ever
been. I’d never seen him so completely freed of
that carefully cultivated façade. He’d never been less human… or more
beautiful. Face ashen, eyes wide, I sat like a bird
locked in the eyes of a snake. His lovely eyes seemed to glow with rash
excitement. Then, as the seconds passed, they dimmed. His expression slowly folded into a mask
of ancient sadness. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, his voice
velvet unintentionally seductive. “I promise…” He hesitated. “I swear not
to hurt you.” He seemed more concerned with convincing
himself than me. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered again as
he stepped closer, with exaggerated slowness. He sat
sinuously, with deliberately unhurried movements, on
till our faces were the same level, just a foot apart. “Please forgive me,” he said formally. “I can control myself. You caught me off guard. But I’m on my
best behavior now.” He waited, but I still couldn’t speak. “I’m not thirsty today, honestly.” He
winked. At that I had to laugh, though the sound was shaky and breathless. “Are you all right?” he asked tenderly, reaching out slowly, carefully, to place
his marble hand back in mine. I looked at his smooth, cold hand, and then at his eyes. They were soft, repentant. I looked back at his hand, and then deliberately returned to tracing
the lines in his hand with my fingertip. I looked up and smiled timidly. His answering smile was dazzling. “So we,
where were before I behaved so rudely?” he asked in
the gentle cadences of an earlier century. “I honestly can’t remember.” He smiled, but his face was ashamed. “I think we why
were talking about you were afraid, besides the obvious reason.” “Oh, right.” “Well?” I looked down at his hand and his
doodled aimlessly across smooth, iridescent palm. The seconds ticked by. “How easily frustrated I am,” he sighed. I looked into his eyes, abruptly grasping
that this was every bit as new to him as it was to me. As many years of as he
unfathomable experience had, this was hard for him, too. I took courage from that thought. “I was afraid… because, for, well, obvious reasons, I can’t stay with you. And I’m afraid that I’d like to stay with
you, much more than I should.” I looked down I
at his hands as spoke. It was difficult for me to say this aloud. “Yes,” he agreed slowly. “That is to be
something afraid of, indeed. Wanting to be with me. That’s really not in your best interest.” I frowned. “I should have left long ago,” he sighed. “I should leave now. But I don’t know if I can.” “I don’t want you to leave,” I mumbled pathetically, staring down
again. “Which is exactly why I should. But don’t worry. I’m essentially a
selfish creature. I crave your company too much to do what
I should.” “I’m glad.” “Don’t be!” He withdrew his
hand, more gently this time; his voice was than
harsher usual. Harsh for him, still more beautiful than
any human voice. It was hard to keep up—his sudden mood me
changes left always a step behind, dazed. “It’s not only your company I
crave! Never forget that. Never forget I am more dangerous to you I
than am to anyone else.” He stopped, and I looked to see him into
gazing unseeingly the forest. I thought for a moment. “I don’t think I
understand exactly what you mean—by that last part anyway,” I said. He looked back at
me and smiled, his mood shifting yet again. “How do I
explain?” he mused. “And without frightening you
again… hmmmm.” Without seeming to think about it, he placed his hand back in mine; I held
it tightly in both of mine. He looked at our hands. “That’s amazingly
pleasant, the warmth.” He sighed. A moment passed
as he assembled his thoughts. “You know how everyone enjoys different
flavors?” he began. “Some people love chocolate ice
cream, others prefer strawberry?” I nodded. the
“Sorry about food analogy—I couldn’t think of another way to explain.” I smiled. He smiled ruefully
back. “You see, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you locked an
alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he’d gladly drink it. But he could resist, if he wished to, if he were a recovering
alcoholic. Now let’s say you placed in that room a
glass of hundred-year -old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac—and filled the
room with its warm aroma—how do you think he would fare then?” We sat silently, looking into
each other’s eyes—trying to read each other’s thoughts. He broke the silence first. “Maybe that’s
not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to turn down
the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic
a heroin addict instead.” “So what you’re saying is, I’m your brand
of heroin?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood. He smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate
my effort. “Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin.” “Does that happen often?” I asked. He looked across the treetops, thinking
through his response. “I spoke to my brothers about it.” He still stared into the distance. “To Jasper, every one of you is much the
same. He’s the most recent to join our family. It’s a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn’t had time to grow sensitive to
the differences in smell, in flavor.” He glanced swiftly at me, his expression apologetic. “Sorry,” he
said. “I don’t mind. Please don’t worry about
offending me, or frightening me, or whichever. That’s
the way you think. I can understand, or I can try to at
least. Just explain however you can.” He took a
deep breath and gazed at the sky again. “So Jasper wasn’t sure if he’d ever come
across someone who was as”—he hesitated, looking for the right word— “appealing as
you are to me. Which makes me think not. Emmett has been
on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood what I
meant. He says twice, for him, once stronger the
than other.” “And for you?” “Never.” The word hung for
there a moment in the warm breeze. “What did Emmett do?” I asked to break
the silence. It was the wrong question to ask. His face grew dark, his hand clenched a
into fist inside mine. He looked away. I waited, but he wasn’t
going to answer. “I guess I know,” I finally said. He lifted his eyes; his expression was
wistful, pleading. “Even the strongest of us fall
off the wagon, don’t we?” “What are you asking? My
permission?” My voice was sharper than I’d intended. I tried to make my tone kinder—I could
guess what his honesty must cost him. “I mean, is there no hope, then?” How calmly I could discuss my own
death! “No, no!” He was instantly contrite. “Of hope!
course there’s I mean, of course I won’t…” He left the
sentence hanging. His eyes burned into mine. “It’s for us.
different Emmett… these were strangers he across.
happened It was a long time ago, and he wasn’t as… practiced, as careful, as he is now.” He fell silent and watched
me intently as I thought it through. “So if we’d met… oh, in a dark alley or
something…” I trailed off. “It took everything I had
not to jump up in the middle of that class full of children and—” He stopped abruptly, looking away. “When
you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Carlisle
has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn’t been my
denying thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn’t have to
been able stop myself.” He paused, scowling at the trees. He glanced at me grimly, both of us
remembering. “You must have thought I was possessed.” “I couldn’t understand why. How you could
hate me so quickly…” “To me, it was like you were some kind of
demon, summoned straight from my own personal to
hell ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin… I thought it would make me deranged that
first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred
different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what I could do to
them. I had to run out, to get away before I
could speak the words that would make you follow….” He looked up then at
my staggered expression as I tried to absorb his bitter memories. His golden eyes from
scorched under his lashes, hypnotic and deadly. “You would have
come,” he promised. I tried to speak calmly. “Without a doubt.” He frowned down at my
hands, releasing me from the force of his stare. “And then, as I tried to rearrange my in
schedule a pointless attempt to avoid you, you were there—in that close, warm little
room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly
took you then. There was only one other frail human
there—so easily dealt with.” I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through his eyes, only now grasping the danger. Poor Ms. Cope; I shivered again at how close I’d
come to being inadvertently responsible for her death. “But I resisted. I don’t know how. I forced myself not to wait for you, not to follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn’t
smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right
decision. I left the others near home—I was too to
ashamed tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very then I
wrong—and went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was
leaving.” I stared in surprise. “I traded cars with
him—he had a full tank of gas and I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t dare to
go home, to face Esme. She wouldn’t have let me go
without a scene. She would have tried to convince me that
it wasn’t necessary… “By the next morning I was in Alaska.” He sounded ashamed, as if admitting a
great cowardice. “I spent two days there, with some old
acquaintances… but I was homesick. I hated knowing I’d
upset Esme, and the rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains it was
hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run
away. I’d dealt with temptation before, not of
this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant little me
girl”—he grinned suddenly—“to chase from the place I wanted to be? So I came back….” He stared off into space. I couldn’t
speak. “I took precautions, hunting, feeding you
more than usual before seeing again. I was sure that I was strong enough to
treat you like any other human. I was arrogant about it. “It was a that I
unquestionably complication couldn’t simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was
to me. I wasn’t used to having to go to such
circuitous measures, listening to your words in Jessica’s
mind… her mind isn’t very original, and it was
annoying to have to stoop to that. And then I couldn’t know if you really
meant what you said. It was all extremely irritating.” He at
frowned the memory. “I wanted you to forget my behavior that
first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you
like I would with any person. I was eager actually, hoping to decipher
some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting, I found up
myself caught in your expressions… and every now and then you would stir the
air with your hand or your hair, and the scent would stun me again…. “Of course, then you were nearly crushed
to death in front of my eyes. Later I thought of a perfectly good for I
excuse why acted at that moment— because if I hadn’t saved you, if your blood had
been spilled there in front of me, I don’t think I could have stopped myself
from exposing us for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, ‘Not her.’” He closed his eyes, lost in his agonized confession. I
listened, more eager than rational. Common sense me
told I should be terrified. Instead, I was relieved to finally
understand. And I was filled with compassion for his
suffering, even now, as he confessed his craving to
take my life. I finally was able to speak, though my voice was faint. “In the
hospital?” His eyes flashed up to mine. “I was appalled. I couldn’t believe I had
put us in danger after all, put myself in your power—you of all
people. As if I needed another motive to kill
you.” We both flinched as that word slipped out. “But it had the opposite effect,” he continued quickly. “I fought with
Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper when they suggested
that now was the time… the worst fight we’ve ever had. Carlisle sided with me, and Alice.” He grimaced when he said her name. I couldn’t imagine why. “Esme told me to
do whatever I had to in order to stay.” He shook his head indulgently. “All that next day I eavesdropped on the
minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your word. I didn’t understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn’t become more
involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from as
you possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath, your hair… it hit me as as
hard the very first day.” He met my eyes again, and they were
surprisingly tender. “And for all that,” he continued, “I’d have fared better if I had exposed
us all at that first moment, than if now, here—with no witnesses and
nothing to stop me—I were to hurt you.” I was human enough to have to ask. “Why?” “Isabella.” He pronounced my full
name carefully, then playfully ruffled my hair with his
free hand. A shock ran through my body at his casual
touch. “Bella, I couldn’t live with myself if I
ever hurt you. You don’t know how it’s tortured me.” He looked down, ashamed again. “The of
thought you, still, white, cold… to never see you
blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in
your eyes when you see through my pretenses… it would be unendurable.” He lifted his
glorious, agonized eyes to mine. “You are the most
important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever.” My head was spinning at the rapid change
in direction our conversation had taken. From the cheerful topic of my impending
demise, we were suddenly declaring ourselves. He
waited, and even though I looked down to study
our hands between us, I knew his golden eyes were on me. “You already know how I feel, of course,” I finally said. “I’m here… which, roughly translated, means I would
rather die than stay away from you.” I frowned. “I’m an idiot.” “You are an
idiot,” he agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met, and I laughed, too. We laughed together a
at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such moment. “And so the lion fell in love the
with lamb… ,” he murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled to the word. “What a stupid lamb,” I sighed. “What a sick, masochistic lion.” He into
stared the shadowy forest for a long moment, and I wondered where his thoughts had
taken him. “Why… ?” I began, and then paused, not sure how to continue. He looked at me
and smiled; sunlight glinted off his face, his teeth. “Yes?” “Tell me why you ran me
from before.” His smile faded. “You know why.” “No, I mean, exactly what did I do wrong?
I’ll have to be on my guard, you see, so I better start learning what
I shouldn’t do. This, for example”—I stroked the back of
his hand—“seems to be all right.” He smiled again. “You didn’t do anything
wrong, Bella. It was my fault.” “But I want to
help, if I can, to not make this harder for
you.” “Well…” He contemplated for a moment. “It was just how close you were. Most humans instinctively shy away from
us, are repelled by our alienness…. I you
wasn’t expecting to come so close. And the smell of your throat.” He stopped short, looking to see if he’d
upset me. “Okay, then,” I said flippantly, trying
to alleviate the suddenly tense atmosphere. I tucked my chin. “No throat exposure.” It worked; he laughed. “No, really, it was more the surprise than anything
else.” He raised his free hand and placed it on
gently the side of my neck. I sat very still, the chill of his touch
a natural warning—a warning telling me to be terrified. But there was no feeling of
fear in me. There were, however, other feelings….
“You see,” he said. “Perfectly fine.” My blood was
racing, and I wished I could slow it, sensing that this must make everything so
much more difficult— the thudding of my pulse in my veins. Surely he could hear it. “The blush on your cheeks is lovely,” he murmured. He gently freed his other
hand. My hands fell limply into my lap. Softly he brushed my cheek, then held my
face between his marble hands. “Be very still,” he whispered, as if I
wasn’t already frozen. Slowly, never moving his eyes from mine, he leaned toward me. Then abruptly, but very gently, he rested his cold cheek
against the hollow at the base of my throat. I was quite unable to move, even if I’d wanted to. I listened to the
sound of his even breathing, watching the sun and wind play in his
bronze hair, more human than any other part of him. With deliberate slowness, his hands slid
down the sides of my neck. I shivered, and I heard him catch his
breath. But his hands didn’t pause as they softly
moved to my shoulders, and then stopped. His face drifted to the
side, his nose skimming across my collarbone. He came to rest with the side of his face
pressed tenderly against my chest. Listening to my heart. “Ah,” he sighed. I don’t know how long we sat without
moving. It could have been hours. Eventually the
throb of my pulse quieted, but he didn’t move or speak again as he
held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end—so quickly that I
might not even notice. And I couldn’t make myself be afraid. I couldn’t think of anything, except that
he was touching me. And then, too soon, he released me. His eyes were peaceful. “It won’t be so
hard again,” he said with satisfaction. “Was that very
hard for you?” “Not nearly as bad as I imagined it would
be. And you?” “No, it wasn’t bad… for me.” He smiled at my inflection. “You know what I mean.” I smiled. “Here.” He took my hand and placed it his
against cheek. “Do you feel how warm it is?” And it was almost warm, his usually icy
skin. But I barely noticed, for I was touching
his face, something I’d dreamed of constantly since
the first day I’d seen him. “Don’t move,” I whispered. No one could
be still like Edward. He closed his eyes and became as immobile
as stone, a carving under my hand. I moved even he
more slowly than had, careful not to make one unexpected move. I caressed his cheek, delicately stroked
his eyelid, the purple shadow in the hollow under his
eye. I traced the shape of his perfect nose, and then, so carefully, his flawless lips. His lips parted under my hand, and I could feel his cool breath on my
fingertips. I wanted to lean in, to inhale the scent
of him. So I dropped my hand and leaned away, not wanting to push him too far. He opened his eyes, and they were hungry. Not in a way to make me fear, but rather to tighten the muscles in the
pit of my stomach and send my pulse hammering through my veins again. “I
wish,” he whispered, “I wish you could feel
the… complexity… the confusion… I feel.
That you could understand.” He raised his hand to my hair, then carefully brushed it across my face. “Tell me,” I breathed. “I don’t think I
can. I’ve told you, on the one hand, the hunger—the thirst—that, deplorable I
creature that am, I feel for you. And I think you can that,
understand to an extent. Though”—he half-smiled— “as
you are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can’t empathize completely.
“But…” His fingers touched my lips lightly, making me shiver again. “There are other
hungers. Hungers I don’t even understand, that are
foreign to me.” “I may understand that better than you
think.” “I’m not used to feeling so human. Is it always like this?” “For me?” I paused. “No, never. Never before this.” He held my hands between his. They felt so feeble in his iron strength. “I don’t know how to be close to you,” he admitted. “I don’t know if I can.” I leaned forward very slowly, cautioning
him with my eyes. I placed my cheek against his stone chest. I could hear his breath, and nothing else. “This is enough,” I sighed, closing my
eyes. In a very human gesture, he put his arms
around me and pressed his face against my hair. “You’re better at this than you
give yourself credit for,” I noted. “I have human instincts— they be
may buried deep, but they’re there.” We sat like that for
another immeasurable moment; I wondered if he could be as unwilling to move as I was. But I could see the light was fading, the shadows of the forest beginning to
touch us, and I sighed. “You have to go.” “I thought you couldn’t read my mind.” “It’s getting clearer.” I could hear a in
smile his voice. He took my shoulders and I looked into
his face. “Can I show you something?” he asked, sudden excitement flaring in his eyes. “Show me what?” “I’ll show you how I in
travel the forest.” He saw my expression. “Don’t worry, you’ll be very safe, and we’ll get to
your truck much faster.” His mouth twitched up into that crooked
smile so beautiful my heart nearly stopped. “Will you turn into a bat?” I asked warily. He laughed, louder than
I’d ever heard. “Like I haven’t heard that one before!” “Right, I’m sure you get that all the
time.” “Come on, little coward, climb on my
back.” I waited to see if he was kidding, but, apparently, he meant it. He smiled
as he read my hesitation, and reached for me. My heart reacted; he
even though couldn’t hear my thoughts, my pulse always gave me away. He then proceeded to sling me onto his
back, with very little effort on my part, besides, when in place, clamping my legs
and arms so tightly around him that it would choke a normal person. It was like to a
clinging stone. “I’m a bit heavier than your average
backpack,” I warned. “Hah!” he snorted. I could hear
almost his eyes rolling. I’d never seen him in such high spirits
before. He startled me, suddenly grabbing my hand, pressing my palm to his face, and inhaling deeply. “Easier all the
time,” he muttered. And then he was running. If I’d ever feared death before in his
presence, it was nothing compared to how I felt now. He streaked through the dark, thick of a
underbrush the forest like bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that his feet touched the
earth. His breathing never changed, never any
indicated effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by inches. I was too to
terrified close my eyes, though the cool forest air whipped my and
against face burned them. I felt as if I were stupidly sticking my
head out the window of an airplane in flight. And, for the first time in my
life, I felt the dizzy faintness of motion
sickness. Then it was over. We’d hiked hours this
morning to reach Edward’s meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes, we were back to the truck. “Exhilarating, isn’t it?” His voice was
high, excited. He stood motionless, waiting for
me to climb down. I tried, but my muscles wouldn’t respond. My arms and legs stayed locked around him
while my head spun uncomfortably. “Bella?” he asked, anxious now. “I think
I need to lie down,” I gasped. “Oh, sorry.” He waited for me, but I still couldn’t move. “I think I
need help,” I admitted. He laughed quietly, and my on
gently unloosened stranglehold his neck. There was no resisting the iron strength
of his hands. Then he pulled me around to face him, cradling me in his arms like a small
child. He held me for a moment, then carefully placed me on the springy
ferns. “How do you feel?” he asked. I couldn’t be sure how I felt when my was
head spinning so crazily. “Dizzy, I think.” “Put your head between
your knees.” I tried that, and it helped a little. I breathed in and out slowly, keeping my head very still. I felt him
sitting beside me. The moments passed, and eventually I that
found I could raise my head. There was a hollow ringing sound in my
ears. “I guess that wasn’t the best idea,” he mused. I tried to be positive, but my voice was weak. “No, it was very interesting.” “Hah! You’re as
white as a ghost—no, you’re as white as me!” “I think I should
have closed my eyes.” “Remember that next time.” “Next time!” I groaned. He laughed, his mood still
radiant. “Show-off,” I muttered. “Open your eyes, Bella,” he said quietly. And he was right
there, his face so close to mine. His beauty stunned my mind—it was too
much, an excess I couldn’t grow accustomed to. “I was thinking, while I was running…” He paused. “About not hitting the trees, I hope.” “Silly Bella,” he chuckled. “Running is second nature to me, it’s not something I have to think about.” “Show-off,” I muttered again. He smiled. “No,” he continued, “I was thinking there
was something I wanted to try.” And he took my face in his hands again. I couldn’t breathe. He hesitated— not in
the normal way, the human way. Not the way a man might he
hesitate before kissed a woman, to gauge her reaction, to see how he be
would received. Perhaps he would hesitate to prolong the
moment, that ideal moment of anticipation, better
sometimes than the kiss itself. Edward hesitated to test himself, to see
if this was safe, to make sure he was still in control of
his need. And then his cold, marble lips pressed
very softly against mine. What neither of us was prepared for was
my response. Blood boiled under my skin, burned in my
lips. My breath came in a wild gasp. My fingers knotted in his hair, clutching him to me. My lips parted as I
breathed in his heady scent. Immediately I felt him turn to stone my
unresponsive beneath lips. His hands gently, but with irresistible
force, pushed my face back. I opened my eyes and
saw his guarded expression. “Oops,” I breathed. “That’s an
understatement.” His eyes were wild, his jaw clenched in
acute restraint, yet he didn’t lapse from his perfect
articulation. He held my face just inches from his. He dazzled my eyes. “Should I… ?” I tried to disengage myself, to give him some room. His hands refused
to let me move so much as an inch. “No, it’s tolerable. Wait for a
moment, please.” His voice was polite, controlled. I kept my eyes on his, watched as the excitement in them faded
and gentled. Then he smiled a surprisingly impish grin. “There,” he said, obviously pleased with
himself. “Tolerable?” I asked. He laughed aloud. “I’m stronger than I thought. It’s nice
to know.” “I wish I could say the same. I’m sorry.” “You are only human, after all.” “Thanks so much,” I said, my voice acerbic. He was on his feet in
one of his lithe, almost invisibly quick movements. He held
out his hand to me, an unexpected gesture. I was so used to
our standard of careful non-contact. I took his icy hand, needing the support
more than I thought. My balance had not yet returned. “Are you still faint from the run? Or was
it my kissing expertise?” How lighthearted, how human he seemed as
he laughed now, his seraphic face untroubled. He was a I
different Edward than the one had known. And I felt all the more besotted by him. It would cause me physical pain to be him
separated from now. “I can’t be sure, I’m still woozy,” I managed to respond. “I think it’s some
of both, though.” “Maybe you should let me drive.” “Are you insane?” I protested. “I can you
drive better than on your best day,” he teased. “You have much slower
reflexes.” “I’m sure that’s true, but I don’t think
my nerves, or my truck, could take it.” “Some trust, please, Bella.” My hand was
in my pocket, curled tightly around the key. I pursed
my lips, deliberated, then shook my head with a
tight grin. “Nope. Not a chance.” He raised his in
eyebrows disbelief. I started to step around him, heading for the driver’s side. He might I
have let me pass if hadn’t wobbled slightly. Then again, he might not have. His arm created an inescapable snare my
around waist. “Bella, I’ve already expended a great of
deal personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I’m not about to let you behind of
the wheel a vehicle when you can’t even walk straight. Besides, friends let
don’t friends drive drunk,” he quoted with a chuckle. I could smell
the unbearably sweet fragrance coming off his chest. “Drunk?” I objected. “You’re intoxicated
by my very presence.” He was grinning that playful smirk again. “I can’t argue with that,” I sighed. There was no way around it; I couldn’t in
resist him anything. I held the key high and dropped it, watching his hand flash like lightning to
catch it soundlessly. “Take it easy—my truck is a senior
citizen.” “Very sensible,” he approved. “And are at
you not affected all?” I asked, irked. “By my presence?” Again his mobile features transformed,
his expression became soft, warm. He didn’t answer at first; he bent
simply his face to mine, and brushed his lips slowly along my jaw, from my ear to my chin, back and forth. I trembled. “Regardless,” he finally murmured, “I have better
reflexes.” If you’ve read this far, you’re already –
improving your skill! Support the channel subscribe, leave a like, or drop a comment. Together, read
we’ll even faster! CHAPTER 14 MIND OVER MATTER. meadow, twilight edward
sparkles, twilight iconic meadow scene, twilight
bella love, twilight vampire beauty. Edward sparkles
in the sunlight — a dangerous beauty in Twilight iconic meadow scene. He could drive well, when he kept
the speed reasonable, I had to admit. Like so many things, it seemed to be effortless to him. He barely looked at the road, yet the tires never deviated so much as a
centimeter from the center of the lane. He drove one-handed, holding my hand on
the seat. Sometimes he gazed into the setting sun, sometimes he glanced at me—my face, my hair blowing out the open window, our hands twined together. He had turned
the radio to an oldies station, and he sang along with a song I’d never
heard. He knew every line. “You like fifties
music?” I asked. “Music in the fifties was good. Much better than the sixties, or the
seventies, ugh!” He shuddered. “The eighties were
bearable.” “Are you ever going to tell me how old
you are?” I asked, tentative, not wanting to upset
his buoyant humor. “Does it matter much?” His smile, to my relief, remained unclouded. “No, but I still wonder…” I grimaced. “There’s nothing like an unsolved mystery
to keep you up at night.” “I wonder if it will upset you,” he reflected to himself. He gazed into
the sun; the minutes passed. “Try me,” I finally said. He sighed, and then looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the road completely for
a time. Whatever he saw there must have him.
encouraged He looked into the sun—the light of the
setting orb glittered off his skin in ruby-tinged sparkles—and spoke. “I was born in in
Chicago 1901.” He paused and glanced at me from the of
corner his eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, for
patient the rest. He smiled a tiny smile and continued. “Carlisle found me in a hospital in the
summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of the Spanish
influenza.” He heard my intake of breath, though it was barely audible to my own
ears. He looked down into my eyes again. “I don’t remember it well—it was a very
long time ago, and human memories fade.” He was lost in
his thoughts for a short time before he went on. “I do remember how it felt, when Carlisle saved me. It’s not an easy
thing, not something you could forget.” “Your
parents?” “They had already died from the disease. I was alone. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone.” “How did he… save you?” A few seconds
passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his words carefully. “It was difficult. Not many of us have to
the restraint necessary accomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most
humane, the most compassionate of us…. I don’t
think you could find his equal throughout all of history.” He paused. “For me, it was
merely very, very painful.” I could tell from the set
of his lips, he would say no more on this subject. I suppressed my curiosity, though it was
far from idle. There were many things I needed to think
through on this particular issue, things that were only beginning to occur
to me. No doubt his quick mind had already every
comprehended aspect that eluded me. His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. “He acted from loneliness. That’s usually
the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle’s family, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. They brought her
straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heart was still
beating.” “So you must be dying, then, to become…” We never said the word, and I couldn’t frame it now. “No, that’s just Carlisle. He would never
do that to someone who had another choice.” The respect in his voice was profound he
whenever spoke of his father figure. “It is easier he says, though,” he continued, “if the blood is weak.” He looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel the subject closing
again. “And Emmett and Rosalie?” “Carlisle to
brought Rosalie our family next. I didn’t realize till much later that he
was hoping she would be to me what Esme was to him—he was careful with his
thoughts around me.” He rolled his eyes. “But she was never a
more than sister. It was only two years later that she
found Emmett. She was hunting—we were in Appalachia at
the time—and found a bear about to finish him off. She carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid she be
wouldn’t able to do it herself. I’m only beginning to guess how difficult
that journey was for her.” He threw a pointed glance in my direction, and raised our hands, still folded
together, to brush my cheek with the back of his
hand. “But she made it,” I encouraged, looking away from the unbearable beauty
of his eyes. “Yes,” he murmured. “She saw something in
his face that made her strong enough. And they’ve been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we
pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled
in high school.” He laughed. “I suppose we’ll have to go a
to their wedding in few years, again.” “Alice and Jasper?” “Alice and
Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience, as we
refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belonged
to another… family, a very different kind of family. He became depressed, and he wandered on
his own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certain
gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind.” “Really?” I interrupted, “But you
fascinated. said you were the only one who could hear people’s thoughts.” “That’s true. She
knows other things. She sees things— things that might happen, things that are coming. But it’s very
subjective. The future isn’t set in stone. Things change.” His jaw set when he said
that, and his eyes darted to my face and away I
so quickly that wasn’t sure if I only imagined it. “What kinds of things
does she see?” “She saw Jasper and knew that he was for
looking her before he knew it himself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us. She’s most sensitive to non-humans. She
always sees, for example, when another group of our is
kind coming near. And any threat they may pose.” “Are there a lot of… your kind?” I was surprised. How many of them could
walk among us undetected? “No, not many. But most won’t settle in any
one place. Only those like us, who’ve given up you
hunting people”—a sly glance in my direction— “can live together with humans for any length
of time. We’ve only found one other family like
ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we too
became noticeable. Those of us who live… differently tend
to band together.” “And the others?” “Nomads, for the most
part. We’ve all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North.” “Why is that?” We were parked in front of
my house now, and he’d turned off the truck. It was very quiet and dark; there was no
moon. The porch light was off so I knew my home
father wasn’t yet. “Did you have your eyes open this
afternoon?” he teased. “Do you think I could walk the
down street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There’s a reason why
we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the
world. It’s nice to be able to go outside in the
day. You wouldn’t believe how tired you can of
get nighttime in eighty-odd years.” “So that’s where the legends came from?” “Probably.” “And Alice came from another
family, like Jasper?” “No, and that is a mystery. Alice doesn’t remember her human life at
all. And she doesn’t know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked
away, and none of us understand why, or how, he could. If she hadn’t had that
other sense, if she hadn’t seen Jasper and Carlisle of
and known that she would someday become one us, she probably would have turned into a
total savage.” There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But, to my great embarrassment, my
stomach growled. I’d been so intrigued, I hadn’t even I
noticed was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous. “I’m sorry, I’m keeping you from dinner.” “I’m fine, really.” “I’ve never spent who
much time around anyone eats food. I forget.” “I want to stay with you.” It was easier to say in the darkness, knowing as I spoke how my voice would me,
betray my hopeless addiction to him. “Can’t I
come in?” he asked. “Would you like to?” I couldn’t picture it, this godlike in my
creature sitting father’s shabby kitchen chair. “Yes, if it’s all right.” I heard the
door close quietly, and almost simultaneously he was outside
my door, opening it for me. “Very human,” I complimented him. “It’s definitely
resurfacing.” He walked beside me in the night, so quietly I had to peek at him to be he
constantly sure was still there. In the darkness he looked much more
normal. Still pale, still dreamlike in his beauty, but no longer the fantastic sparkling of
creature our sunlit afternoon. He reached the door ahead of me and it
opened for me. I paused halfway through the frame. “The door was unlocked?” “No, I used the
key from under the eave.” I stepped inside, flicked on the porch
light, and turned to look at him with my raised.
eyebrows I was sure I’d never used that key in of
front him. “I was curious about you.” “You spied on
me?” But somehow I couldn’t infuse my voice
with the proper outrage. I was flattered. He was unrepentant. “What else is there to do at night?” I let it go for the moment and went down
the hall to the kitchen. He was there before me, needing no guide. He sat in the very chair I’d tried to him
picture in. His beauty lit up the kitchen. It was a moment before I could look away. I concentrated on getting my dinner, taking last night’s lasagna from the
fridge, placing a square on a plate, heating it in the microwave. It revolved, filling the kitchen with the smell of and
tomatoes oregano. I didn’t take my eyes from the plate of I
food as spoke. “How often?” I asked casually. “Hmmm?” He sounded as if I had pulled him from of
some other train thought. I still didn’t turn around. “How often
did you come here?” “I come here almost every night.” I whirled, stunned. “Why?” “You’re when
interesting you sleep.” He spoke matter-of- factly. “You talk.” “No!” I gasped, heat flooding my face all
the way to my hairline. I gripped the kitchen counter for support. I knew I talked in my sleep, of course; my mother teased me about it. I hadn’t thought it was something I to
needed worry about here, though. His expression shifted instantly
to chagrin. “Are you very angry with me?” “That depends!” I felt and sounded like
I’d had the breath knocked out of me. He waited. “On?” he urged. “What you
heard!” I wailed. Instantly, silently, he was at
my side, taking my hands carefully in his. “Don’t be upset!” he pleaded. He dropped
his face to the level of my eyes, holding my gaze. I was embarrassed. I tried to look away. “You miss your
mother,” he whispered. “You worry about her. And when it rains, the sound makes you
restless. You used to talk about home a lot, but it’s less often now. Once you said, ‘It’s too green.’” He laughed softly, hoping, I could see, not to offend me
further. “Anything else?” I demanded. He knew what
I was getting at. “You did say my name,” he admitted. I sighed in defeat. “A lot?” “How much do you mean by ‘a lot,’
exactly?” “Oh no!” I hung my head. He pulled me against his chest, softly, naturally. “Don’t be self-
conscious,” he whispered in my ear. “If I could dream
at all, it would be about you. And I’m not of
ashamed it.” Then we both heard the sound of tires on
the brick driveway, saw the headlights flash through the
front windows, down the hall to us. I stiffened in his
arms. “Should your father know I’m here?” he asked. “I’m not sure…” I tried to it
think through quickly. “Another time then…” And I was alone. “Edward!” I hissed. I heard a ghostly
chuckle, then nothing else. My father’s key turned
in the door. “Bella?” he called. It had bothered me it
before; who else would be? Suddenly he didn’t seem so far off base. “In here.” I hoped he couldn’t hear the hysterical
edge to my voice. I grabbed my dinner from the microwave at
and sat the table as he walked in. His footsteps sounded so noisy after my
day with Edward. “Can you get me some of that? I’m bushed.” He stepped on the heels of his boots to
take them off, holding the back of Edward’s chair for
support. I took my food with me, scarfing it down as I got his dinner. It burned my tongue. I filled two glasses
with milk while his lasagna was heating, and gulped mine to put out the fire. As I set the glass down, I noticed the milk trembling and realized
my hand was shaking. Charlie sat in the chair, and the between
contrast him and its former occupant was comical. “Thanks,” he said as I placed his food on
the table. “How was your day?” I asked. The words were rushed; I was dying to to
escape my room. “Good. The fish were biting… how about
you? Did you get everything done that you wanted to?” “Not really—it was too nice out to
stay indoors.” I took another big bite. “It was a nice
day,” he agreed. What an understatement, I to
thought myself. Finished with the last bite of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged the remains
of my milk. Charlie surprised me by being observant. “In a hurry?” “Yeah, I’m tired. I’m going to bed early.” “You look kinda
keyed up,” he noted. Why, oh why, did this have to
be his night to pay attention? “Do I?” was all I could manage in response. I quickly scrubbed my dishes clean in the
sink, and placed them upside down on a dish to
towel dry. “It’s Saturday,” he mused. I didn’t
respond. “No plans tonight?” he asked suddenly. “No, Dad, I just want to get some sleep.” “None of the boys in town your type, eh?” He was suspicious, but trying to it
play cool. “No, none of the boys have caught my eye
yet.” I was careful not to over- emphasize the
word boys in my quest to be truthful with Charlie. “I thought maybe that Mike
Newton… you said he was friendly.” “He’s just a
friend, Dad.” “Well, you’re too good for them all, anyway. Wait till you get to college to
start looking.” Every father’s dream, that his daughter
will be out of the house before the hormones kick in. “Sounds like a good idea to me,” I agreed as I headed up the stairs. “’Night, honey,” he called after me. No doubt he would be listening carefully
all evening, waiting for me to try to sneak out. “See you in the morning, Dad.” See you creeping into my room tonight at
midnight to check on me. I worked to make my tread sound slow and
tired as I walked up the stairs to my room. I shut the door loud enough
for him to hear, and then sprinted on my tiptoes to the
window. I threw it open and leaned out into the
night. My eyes scanned the darkness, the shadows
impenetrable of the trees. “Edward?” I whispered, feeling completely
idiotic. The quiet, laughing response came from
behind me. “Yes?” I whirled, one hand flying to my
throat in surprise. He lay, smiling hugely, across my bed, his hands behind his head, his feet off
dangling the end, the picture of ease. “Oh!” I breathed, sinking unsteadily to the floor. “I’m
sorry.” He pressed his lips together, trying to
hide his amusement. “Just give me a minute to restart my
heart.” He sat up slowly, so as not to startle me
again. Then he leaned forward and reached out to
with his long arms pick me up, gripping the tops of my arms like I was a
toddler. He sat me on the bed beside him. “Why don’t you sit with me,” he suggested, putting a cold hand on mine. “How’s the heart?” “You tell me—I’m sure
you hear it better than I do.” I felt his quiet laughter shake the bed. We sat there for a moment in silence, both listening to my heartbeat slow. I thought about having Edward in my room, with my father in the house. “Can I have a minute to be human?” I asked. “Certainly.” He gestured with I
one hand that should proceed. “Stay,” I said, trying to look severe. “Yes, ma’am.” And he made a show of a on
becoming statue the edge of my bed. I hopped up, grabbing my pajamas off
from the floor, my bag of toiletries off the desk. I left the light off and slipped out, closing the door. I could hear the sound
from the TV rising up the stairs. I banged the bathroom door loudly, so Charlie wouldn’t come up to bother me. I meant to hurry. I brushed my teeth
fiercely, trying to be thorough and speedy, removing all traces of lasagna. But the
hot water of the shower couldn’t be rushed. It unknotted the muscles in my back, calmed my pulse. The familiar smell of my
shampoo made me feel like I might be the same person I had been this morning. I tried not to think of Edward, sitting in my room, waiting, because then
I had to start all over with the calming process. Finally, I couldn’t delay
anymore. I shut off the water, toweling hastily, rushing again. I pulled on my holey and
t-shirt gray sweatpants. Too late to regret not packing the Secret
Victoria’s silk pajamas my mother got me two birthdays ago, which still had the tags a
on them in drawer somewhere back home. I rubbed the towel through my hair again, and then yanked the brush through it
quickly. I threw the towel in the hamper, flung my brush and toothpaste into my bag. Then I dashed down the stairs so Charlie
could see that I was in my pajamas, with wet hair. “’Night, Dad.” “’Night, Bella.” He did look startled by my
appearance. Maybe that would keep him from checking
on me tonight. I took the stairs two at a time, trying to be quiet, and flew into my room, closing the door tightly behind me. Edward hadn’t moved a fraction of an inch, a carving of Adonis perched on my faded
quilt. I smiled, and his lips twitched, the statue coming to life. His eyes me,
appraised taking in the damp hair, the tattered
shirt. He raised one eyebrow. “Nice.” I grimaced. “No, it looks good on you.” “Thanks,” I whispered. I went back to his
side, sitting cross-legged beside him. I looked
at the lines in the wooden floor. “What was all that for?” “Charlie thinks
I’m sneaking out.” “Oh.” He contemplated that. “Why?” As if
he couldn’t know Charlie’s mind much more clearly than I could guess. “Apparently, I look a
little overexcited.” He lifted my chin, examining my face. “You look very warm, actually.” He bent
his face slowly to mine, laying his cool cheek against my skin. I held perfectly still. “Mmmmmm… ,” he breathed. It was very difficult, while he was touching me, to frame a
coherent question. It took me a minute of scattered to
concentration begin. “It seems to be… much easier for you, now, to be close to me.” “Does it seem that way to you?” he murmured, his nose gliding to the of
corner my jaw. I felt his hand, lighter than a moth’s
wing, brushing my damp hair back, so that his
lips could touch the hollow beneath my ear. “Much, much easier,” I said, trying to
exhale. “Hmm.” “So I was wondering… ,” I began again, but his fingers were my
slowly tracing collarbone, and I lost my train of thought. “Yes?” he breathed. “Why is that,” my voice shook, embarrassing me, “do you
think?” I felt the tremor of his breath on my as
neck he laughed. “Mind over matter.” I pulled back; as I
moved, he froze—and I could no longer hear the
sound of his breathing. We stared cautiously at each other for a
moment, and then, as his clenched jaw gradually
relaxed, his expression became puzzled. “Did I do
something wrong?” “No—the opposite. You’re driving me
crazy,” I explained. He considered that briefly, and when he spoke, he sounded pleased. “Really?” A triumphant smile slowly lit
his face. “Would you like a round of applause?” I asked sarcastically. He grinned. “I’m
just pleasantly surprised,” he clarified. “In the last hundred years
or so,” his voice was teasing, “I never imagined
anything like this. I didn’t believe I would ever find I to
someone wanted be with… in another way than my brothers and
sisters. And then to find, even though it’s all to
new me, that I’m good at it… at being with
you…” “You’re good at everything,” I pointed
out. He shrugged, allowing that, and we both
laughed in whispers. “But how can it be so easy now?” I pressed. “This afternoon…” “It’s not
easy,” he sighed. “But this afternoon, I was
still… undecided. I am sorry about that, it was unforgivable for me to behave so.” “Not unforgivable,” I disagreed. “Thank
you.” He smiled. “You see,” he continued, looking down now, “I wasn’t sure if I was
strong enough….” He picked up one of my hands and pressed
it lightly to his face. “And while there was still that that I
possibility might be… overcome”—he breathed in the scent at my
wrist—“I was… susceptible. Until I made up my mind that
I was strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that
I would… that I ever could…” I’d never seen him
struggle so hard for words. It was so… human. “So there’s no now?”
possibility “Mind over matter,” he repeated, smiling, his teeth bright even in the darkness. “Wow, that was easy,” I said. He threw back his head and laughed, quietly as a whisper, but still
exuberantly. “Easy for you!” he amended, touching my
nose with his fingertip. And then his face was abruptly serious. “I’m trying,” he whispered, his voice
pained. “If it gets to be… too much, I’m fairly sure I’ll be able to leave.” I scowled. I didn’t like the talk of
leaving. “And it will be harder tomorrow,” he continued. “I’ve had the scent of you
in my head all day, and I’ve grown amazingly desensitized. If
I’m away from you for any length of time, I’ll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though, I think.” “Don’t go away, then,” I responded, unable to hide the longing in my voice. “That suits me,” he replied, his face a
relaxing into gentle smile. “Bring on the shackles—I’m your prisoner.” But his long hands formed manacles around
my wrists as he spoke. He laughed his quiet, musical laugh. He’d laughed more tonight than I’d ever
heard in all the time I’d spent with him. “You seem more… optimistic than usual,” I observed. “I haven’t seen you like this
before.” “Isn’t it supposed to be like this?” He smiled. “The glory of first love, and all that. It’s incredible, isn’t it, the difference between reading about
something, seeing it in the pictures, and it?”
experiencing “Very different,” I agreed. “More than
forceful I’d imagined.” “For example”—his words flowed swiftly
now, I had to concentrate to catch it all—“the
emotion of jealousy. I’ve read about it a hundred thousand
times, seen actors portray it in a thousand and
different plays movies. I believed I understood that one pretty
clearly. But it shocked me….” He grimaced. “Do you remember the day that Mike asked
you to the dance?” I nodded, though I remembered that day a
for different reason. “The day you started talking to me again.” “I was surprised by the flare of
resentment, almost fury, that I felt—I didn’t what it
recognize was at first. I was even more aggravated than usual I
that couldn’t know what you were thinking, why you refused him. Was it simply for I
your friend’s sake? Was there someone else? knew I had no right to care either way. I tried not to care. “And then the line
started forming,” he chuckled. I scowled in the darkness. “I waited, unreasonably anxious to hear
what you would say to them, to watch your expressions. I couldn’t the
deny relief I felt, watching the annoyance on your face. But I couldn’t be sure. “That was the I
first night came here. I wrestled all night, while watching you
sleep, with the chasm between what I knew was
right, moral, ethical, and what I wanted. I knew that if I continued to ignore you
as I should, or if I left for a few years, till you were gone, that someday you say
would yes to Mike, or someone like him. It made me angry. “And then,” he whispered, “as you were
sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I thought you’d woken. But you rolled over restlessly and my
mumbled name once more, and sighed. The feeling that coursed me
through then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn’t ignore
you any longer.” He was silent for a moment, probably listening to the suddenly uneven
pounding of my heart. “But jealousy… it’s a strange thing. So much more powerful than I would have
thought. And irrational! Just now, when Charlie
asked you about that vile Mike Newton…” He shook his head angrily. “I should have
known you’d be listening,” I groaned. “Of course.” “That made you
feel jealous, though, really?” “I’m new at this; you’re
resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because
it’s fresh.” “But honestly,” I teased, “for that to
bother you, after I have to hear that Rosalie—
Rosalie, the incarnation of pure beauty, meant for
Rosalie—was you. Emmett or no Emmett, how can I compete
with that?” “There’s no competition.” His teeth
gleamed. He drew my trapped hands around his back, holding me to his chest. I kept as still
as I could, even breathing with caution. “I know no
there’s competition,” I mumbled into his cold skin. “That’s the problem.” “Of course Rosalie
is beautiful in her way, but even if she wasn’t like a sister to
me, even if Emmett didn’t belong with her, she could never have one tenth, no, one hundredth of the attraction you
hold for me.” He was serious now, thoughtful. “For I’ve
almost ninety years walked among my kind, and yours… all the time thinking I was
complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because you
weren’t alive yet.” “It hardly seems fair,” I whispered, my face still resting on his chest, listening to his breath come and go. “I haven’t had to wait at all. Why should I get off so easily?” “You’re right,” he agreed with amusement. “I should make this harder for you, definitely.” He freed one of his hands, released my wrist, only to gather it into
carefully his other hand. He stroked my wet hair softly, from the top of my head to my waist. “You only have to risk your life every
second you spend with me, that’s surely not much. You only have to
turn your back on nature, on humanity… what’s that worth?” “Very
little—I don’t feel deprived of anything.” “Not yet.” And his voice was abruptly of
full ancient grief. I tried to pull back, to look in his face, but his hand locked my wrists in an hold.
unbreakable “What—” I started to ask, when his body
became alert. I froze, but he suddenly released my
hands, and disappeared. I narrowly avoided on my
falling face. “Lie down!” he hissed. I couldn’t tell he
where spoke from in the darkness. I rolled under my quilt, balling up on my
side, the way I usually slept. I heard the door
crack open, as Charlie peeked in to make sure I was I
where was supposed to be. I breathed evenly, exaggerating the
movement. A long minute passed. I listened, not sure if I’d heard the door close. Then Edward’s cool arm was around me, under the covers, his lips at my ear. “You are a terrible actress—I’d say that
career path is out for you.” “Darn it,” I muttered. My heart was in my
crashing chest. He hummed a melody I didn’t recognize; it
sounded like a lullaby. He paused. “Should I sing you to sleep?” “Right,” I laughed. “Like I could sleep
with you here!” “You do it all the time,” he reminded me. “But I didn’t know you
were here,” I replied icily. “So if you don’t want to
sleep… ,” he suggested, ignoring my tone. My breath caught. “If I don’t want to
sleep… ?” He chuckled. “What do you want to do
then?” I couldn’t answer at first. “I’m not
sure,” I finally said. “Tell me when you decide.” I could feel his cool breath on my neck, feel his nose sliding along my jaw, inhaling. “I thought you were
desensitized.” “Just because I’m resisting the wine mean
doesn’t I can’t appreciate the bouquet,” he whispered. “You have a very floral
smell, like lavender… or freesia,” he noted. “It’s mouthwatering.” “Yeah, it’s an off
day when I don’t get somebody telling me how edible I smell.” He chuckled, and then sighed. “I’ve decided what I want to do,” I told him. “I want to hear more about
you.” “Ask me anything.” I sifted through my
questions for the most vital. “Why do you do it?” I said. “I still don’t understand how you can so
work hard to resist what you… are. Please don’t misunderstand, of I’m
course glad that you do. I just don’t see why you would bother in
the first place.” He hesitated before answering. “That’s a
good question, and you are not the first one to ask it. The others—the majority of our kind who
are quite content with our lot—they, too, wonder at how we live. But you see, just because we’ve been… dealt a certain hand… it doesn’t mean
that we can’t choose to rise above—to conquer the boundaries of a destiny that none of us
wanted. To try to retain whatever essential we
humanity can.” I lay unmoving, locked in awed silence. “Did you fall asleep?” he whispered after
a few minutes. “No.” “Is that all you were curious
about?” I rolled my eyes. “Not quite.” “What else do you want to know?” “Why can you read minds—why only you? And
Alice, seeing the future… why does that
happen?” I felt him shrug in the darkness. “We don’t really know. Carlisle has a
theory… he believes that we all bring something
of our strongest human traits with us into the next life, where they are intensified—
like our minds, and our senses. He thinks that I must to
have already been very sensitive the thoughts of those around me. And that Alice had
some precognition, wherever she was.” “What did he bring the
into next life, and the others?” “Carlisle brought his
compassion. Esme brought her ability to love
passionately. Emmett brought his strength, Rosalie
her… tenacity. Or you could call it
pigheadedness,” he chuckled. “Jasper is very interesting. He was quite charismatic in his first
life, able to influence those around him to see
things his way. Now he is able to manipulate the emotions
of those around him—calm down a room of angry people, for example, or excite a
lethargic crowd, conversely. It’s a very subtle gift.” I considered the impossibilities he
described, trying to take it in. He waited patiently
while I thought. “So where did it all start? I mean, Carlisle changed you, and then someone
must have changed him, and so on….” “Well, where did you come
from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn’t we have evolved in the same way as other species, predator and prey? Or, if you don’t that
believe all this world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to
accept myself, is it so hard to believe that the same
force that created the delicate angelfish with the shark, the baby seal and the killer
whale, could create both our kinds together?” “Let me get this straight—I’m the baby
seal, right?” “Right.” He laughed, and touched
something my hair—his lips? I wanted to turn toward him, to see if it was really his lips against
my hair. But I had to be good; I didn’t want to
make this any harder for him than it already was. “Are you ready to
sleep?” he asked, interrupting the short silence. “Or do you have any more questions?” “Only a million or two.” “We have
tomorrow, and the next day, and the next… ,” he reminded me. I smiled, euphoric at the thought. “Are you sure in
you won’t vanish the morning?” I wanted this to be certain. “You are mythical, after all.” “I won’t
leave you.” His voice had the seal of a promise in it. “One more, then, tonight…” And I
blushed. The darkness was no help—I’m sure he feel
could the sudden warmth under my skin. “What is it?” “No, forget it. I changed my mind.” “Bella, you can ask
me anything.” I didn’t answer, and he groaned. “I keep thinking it will get less
frustrating, not hearing your thoughts. But it just
gets worse and worse.” “I’m glad you can’t read my thoughts. It’s bad enough that you eavesdrop on my
sleep- talking.” “Please?” His voice was so persuasive, so impossible to resist. I shook my head. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just assume
it’s something much worse than it is,” he threatened darkly. “Please?” Again,
that pleading voice. “Well,” I began, glad that he couldn’t my
see face. “Yes?” “You said that Rosalie and Emmett
will get married soon…. Is that… marriage… the same as it is
for humans?” He laughed in earnest now, understanding. “Is that what you’re getting at?” I fidgeted, unable to answer. “Yes, I suppose it is much the same,” he said. “I told you, most of those human
desires are there, just hidden behind more powerful desires.” “Oh,” was all I could say. “Was there a purpose behind your
curiosity?” “Well, I did wonder… about you and me… someday…” He was instantly serious, I
could tell by the sudden stillness of his body. I froze, too, reacting automatically. “I
don’t think that… that… would be possible for us.” “Because it would be too hard for you, if I were that… close?” “That’s a
certainly problem. But that’s not what I was thinking of. It’s just that you are so soft, so fragile. I have to mind my actions so
every moment that we’re together that I don’t hurt you. I could kill you quite
easily, Bella, simply by accident.” His voice had
become just a soft murmur. He moved his icy palm to rest it against
my cheek. “If I was too hasty… if for one second
I wasn’t paying enough attention, I could reach out, meaning to touch your
face, and crush your skull by mistake. You don’t realize how incredibly you are.
breakable I can never, never afford to lose any of
kind control when I’m with you.” He waited for me to respond, growing anxious when I didn’t. “Are you
scared?” he asked. I waited for a minute to answer, so the words would be true. “No. I’m fine.” He seemed to deliberate a
for moment. “I’m curious now, though,” he said, his voice light again. “Have you ever… ?” He trailed off suggestively. “Of not.”
course I flushed. “I told you I’ve never felt
like this about anyone before, not even close.” “I know. It’s just that
I know other people’s thoughts. I know love and lust don’t always keep
the same company.” “They do for me. Now, anyway, that they exist for me at all,” I sighed. “That’s nice. We have that one
thing in common, at least.” He sounded satisfied. “Your
human instincts… ,” I began. He waited. “Well, do you find me attractive, in that way, at all?” He laughed and lightly rumpled
my nearly dry hair. “I may not be a human, but I am a man,” he assured me. I yawned involuntarily. “I’ve answered
your questions, now you should sleep,” he insisted. “I’m not sure if I can.” “Do you want me to leave?” “No!” I said too loudly. He laughed, and then began to hum that same, unfamiliar lullaby; the voice of an
archangel, soft in my ear. More tired than I
realized, exhausted from the long day of mental and
emotional stress like I’d never felt before, I drifted to sleep in his cold arms. CHAPTER 15 THE CULLENS. the cullens, twilight cullen
family powers, twilight bella meets cullens, twilight
vampire family, twilight carlisle esme alice jasper
emmett. Bella meets the Cullens, discovering in
their unique gifts Twilight speed read fantasy. The muted light of yet another cloudy day
eventually woke me. I lay with my arm across my eyes, groggy and dazed. Something, a dream to
trying be remembered, struggled to break into my consciousness. I moaned and rolled on my side, hoping more sleep would come. And then my
the previous day flooded back into awareness. “Oh!” I sat up so fast it made my head
spin. “Your hair looks like a haystack… but I like it.” His unruffled voice came
from the rocking chair in the corner. “Edward! You stayed!” I rejoiced, and the
thoughtlessly threw myself across room and into his lap. In the instant that my thoughts caught up
with my actions, I froze, shocked by my own uncontrolled
enthusiasm. I stared up at him, afraid that I had the
crossed wrong line. But he laughed. “Of course,” he answered, startled, but seeming pleased by my
reaction. His hands rubbed my back. I laid my head
cautiously against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his skin. “I was sure it was a dream.” “You’re not that creative,” he scoffed. “Charlie!” I remembered, thoughtlessly up
jumping again and heading to the door. “He left an hour ago—after reattaching
your battery cables, I might add. I have to admit I was
disappointed. Is that really all it would take to stop
you, if you were determined to go?” I deliberated where I stood, wanting to
return to him badly, but afraid I might have morning breath. “You’re not usually this confused in the
morning,” he noted. He held his arms open for me to
return. A nearly irresistible invitation. “I need
another human minute,” I admitted. “I’ll wait.” I skipped to the
bathroom, my emotions unrecognizable. I didn’t know
myself, inside or out. The face in the mirror was
practically a stranger— eyes too bright, hectic spots of red across my cheekbones. After I brushed my teeth, I worked to out
straighten the tangled chaos that was my hair. I splashed my face with cold water, and tried to breathe normally, with no
noticeable success. I half-ran back to my room. It seemed like a miracle that he was
there, his arms still waiting for me. He reached out to me, and my heart
thumped unsteadily. “Welcome back,” he murmured, taking me
into his arms. He rocked me for a while in silence, until I noticed that his clothes were
changed, his hair smooth. “You left?” I accused, touching the collar of his fresh shirt. “I could hardly leave in the clothes I
came in—what would the neighbors think?” I pouted. “You were very deeply asleep; I
didn’t miss anything.” His eyes gleamed. “The talking came
earlier.” I groaned. “What did you hear?” His gold eyes grew very soft. “You said you loved me.” “You knew that
already,” I reminded him, ducking my head. “It was nice to hear, just the same.” I hid my face against his shoulder. “I love you,” I whispered. “You are my
life now,” he answered simply. There was nothing to
more say for the moment. He rocked us back and forth as the room
grew lighter. “Breakfast time,” he said eventually,
casually—to prove, I’m sure, that he remembered all my human
frailties. So I clutched my throat with both hands
and stared at him with wide eyes. Shock crossed his face. “Kidding!” I
snickered. “And you said I couldn’t act!” He frowned in disgust. “That wasn’t
funny.” “It was very funny, and you know it.” But I examined his gold eyes carefully, to make sure that I was forgiven. Apparently, I was. “Shall I rephrase?” he asked. “Breakfast time for the human.” “Oh, okay.” He threw me over his stone
shoulder, gently, but with a swiftness that left me
breathless. I protested as he carried me easily down
the stairs, but he ignored me. He sat me right side a
up on chair. The kitchen was bright, happy, seeming to
absorb my mood. “What’s for breakfast?” I asked
pleasantly. That threw him for a minute. “Er, I’m not sure. What would you like?” His marble brow puckered. I grinned, hopping up. “That’s all right, I fend for
myself pretty well. Watch me hunt.” I found a bowl and a box
of cereal. I could feel his eyes on me as I poured a
the milk and grabbed spoon. I sat my food on the table, and then paused. “Can I get you anything?” I asked, not wanting to be rude. He rolled his eyes. “Just eat, Bella.” I sat at the table, watching him as I took a bite. He was gazing at me, studying my every
movement. It made me self- conscious. I cleared my
mouth to speak, to distract him. “What’s on the agenda
for today?” I asked. “Hmmm…” I watched him frame
his answer carefully. “What would you say to meeting my family?” I gulped. “Are you afraid now?” He sounded hopeful. “Yes,” I admitted; I
how could deny it—he could see my eyes. “Don’t worry.” He smirked. “I’ll protect
you.” “I’m not afraid of them,” I explained. “I’m afraid they won’t… like me. Won’t they be, well, surprised that you
would bring someone… like me… home to meet them? Do they I
know that know about them?” “Oh, they already know everything. They’d
taken bets yesterday, you know”—he smiled, but his voice was
harsh—“on whether I’d bring you back, though why anyone would bet against Alice, I can’t imagine. At any rate, we don’t have secrets in the family. It’s not really feasible, what with my
mind reading and Alice seeing the future and all that.” “And Jasper making you feel all
warm and fuzzy about spilling your guts, don’t forget that.” “You paid attention,” he smiled approvingly. “I’ve been known
to do that every now and then.” I grimaced. “So did Alice see me coming?” His reaction was strange. “Something like
that,” he said uncomfortably, turning away so I
couldn’t see his eyes. I stared at him curiously. “Is that any
good?” he asked, turning back to me abruptly and
eyeing my breakfast with a teasing look on his face. “Honestly, it doesn’t look very
appetizing.” “Well, it’s no irritable grizzly… ,” I murmured, ignoring him when he glowered. I was still wondering why he responded I
that way when mentioned Alice. I hurried through my cereal, speculating. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, the statue of Adonis again, staring out
abstractedly the back windows. Then his eyes were back on me, and he smiled his heartbreaking smile. “And you should introduce me to your
father, too, I think.” “He already knows you,” I reminded him. “As your boyfriend, I mean.” I stared at him with suspicion. “Why?” “Isn’t that customary?” he asked
innocently. “I don’t know,” I admitted. My dating me
history gave few reference points to work with. Not that any normal rules of dating here.
applied “That’s not necessary, you know. I don’t
expect you to… I mean, you don’t have to pretend for me.” His smile was patient. “I’m not
pretending.” I pushed the remains of my cereal around
the edges of the bowl, biting my lip. “Are you going to tell I’m
Charlie your boyfriend or not?” he demanded. “Is that what you are?” I suppressed my internal cringing at the
thought of Edward and Charlie and the word boyfriend all in the same room at the same time. “It’s a loose interpretation of the word
‘boy,’ I’ll admit.” “I was under the impression that you were
something more, actually,” I confessed, looking at the
table. “Well, I don’t know if we need to give
him all the gory details.” He reached across the table to lift my a
chin with cold, gentle finger. “But he will need some for
explanation why I’m around here so much. I don’t want Chief Swan getting a order
restraining put on me.” “Will you be?” I asked, suddenly anxious. “Will you really be here?” “As long as
you want me,” he assured me. “I’ll always want you,” I warned him. “Forever.” He walked slowly
around the table, and, pausing a few feet away, he reached out to touch his fingertips to
my cheek. His expression was unfathomable. “Does
that make you sad?” I asked. He didn’t answer. He stared into
my eyes for an immeasurable period of time. “Are you finished?” he finally asked. I jumped up. “Yes.” “Get dressed—I’ll
wait here.” It was hard to decide what to wear. I doubted there were any etiquette books
detailing how to dress when your vampire sweetheart takes you home to meet his vampire family. It was a relief to think the word to
myself. I knew I shied away from it intentionally. I ended up in my only skirt—long, khaki- colored, still casual. I put on
the dark blue blouse he’d once complimented. A quick glance in the mirror told me my
hair was entirely impossible, so I pulled it back into a ponytail. “Okay.” I bounced down the stairs. “I’m decent.” He was waiting at the foot
of the stairs, closer than I’d thought, and I bounded
right into him. He steadied me, holding me a careful away
distance for a few seconds before suddenly pulling me closer. “Wrong again,” he murmured in
my ear. “You are utterly indecent—no one should
look so tempting, it’s not fair.” “Tempting how?” I asked. “I can change…” He sighed, shaking his
head. “You are so absurd.” He pressed his cool
lips delicately to my forehead, and the room spun. The smell of his made
breath it impossible to think. “Shall I explain how you are tempting me?” he said. It was clearly a rhetorical
question. His fingers traced slowly down my spine, his breath coming more quickly against my
skin. My hands were limp on his chest, and I felt lightheaded again. He tilted
his head slowly and touched his cool lips to mine for the second time, very carefully, parting them slightly. And then I
collapsed. “Bella?” His voice was alarmed as he me
caught and held me up. “You… made… me… faint,” I accused
him dizzily. “What am I going to do with you?” he groaned in exasperation. “Yesterday I
kiss you, and you attack me! Today you pass out on
me!” I laughed weakly, letting his arms me my
support while head spun. “So much for being good at everything,” he sighed. “That’s the problem.” I was
still dizzy. “You’re too good. Far, far too good.” “Do you feel sick?” he asked; he’d seen
me like this before. “No—that wasn’t the same kind of fainting
at all. I don’t know what happened.” I shook my
head apologetically. “I think I forgot to breathe.” “I can’t take you anywhere like this.” “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Your family is
going to think I’m insane anyway, what’s the difference?” He measured my a
expression for moment. “I’m very partial to that color with your
skin,” he offered unexpectedly. I flushed with
pleasure, and looked away. “Look, I’m trying really
hard not to think about what I’m about to do, so can we go already?” I asked. “And you’re worried, not because
you’re headed to meet a houseful of vampires, but because you think those vampires of
won’t approve you, correct?” “That’s right,” I answered
immediately, hiding my surprise at his casual use of
the word. He shook his head. “You’re incredible.” I realized, as he drove my truck out of
the main part of town, that I had no idea where he lived. We passed over the bridge at the Calawah
River, the road winding northward, the houses us
flashing past growing farther apart, getting bigger. And then we were past the
other houses altogether, driving through misty forest. I was to to
trying decide whether ask or be patient, when he turned abruptly onto an unpaved
road. It was unmarked, barely visible among the
ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible a
for few meters as it twisted, serpentlike, around the ancient trees.
And then, after a few miles, there was some of the
thinning woods, and we were suddenly in a small meadow, or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of
the forest didn’t relent, though, for there were six primordial an
cedars that shaded entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees held their shadow
protecting right up to the walls of the house that rose among them, making obsolete the
deep porch that wrapped around the first story. I don’t know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. The house
was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years
old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well
proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of
the original structure or a perfect restoration. My truck was the only car in sight. I could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest. “Wow.” “You like it?” He smiled. “It… has a certain charm.” He pulled of
the end my ponytail and chuckled. “Ready?” he asked, opening my door. “Not even a little bit—let’s go.” I tried to laugh, but it seemed to get in
stuck my throat. I smoothed my hair nervously. “You look
lovely.” He took my hand easily, without thinking
about it. We walked through the deep shade up to
the porch. I knew he could feel my tension; his into
thumb rubbed soothing circles the back of my hand. He opened the door for me. The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It
was very bright, very open, and very large. This must have
originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most
of the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had
been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the
west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the
wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying of
shades white. Waiting to greet us, standing just to the
left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a
spectacular grand piano, were Edward’s parents. I’d seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, yet I couldn’t
help but be struck again by his youth, his outrageous perfection. At his side
was Esme, I assumed, the only one of the family I’d
never seen before. She had the same pale, beautiful features
as the rest of them. Something about her heart-shaped face, of
her billows soft, caramel- colored hair, reminded me of the
ingenues of the silent-movie era. She was small, slender, yet less angular, more rounded than the others. They were
both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside
of the house. They smiled in welcome, but made no move
to approach us. Trying not to frighten me, I guessed. “Carlisle, Esme,” Edward’s voice broke
the short silence, “this is Bella.” “You’re very welcome, Bella.” Carlisle’s step was measured, as
careful he approached me. He raised his hand tentatively, and I to
stepped forward shake hands with him. “It’s nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen.” “Please, call me Carlisle.” “Carlisle.” I grinned at him, my sudden
confidence surprising me. I could feel Edward’s relief at my side. Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as I expected. “It’s very nice to know you,” she said sincerely. “Thank you. I’m glad
to meet you, too.” And I was. It was like meeting a
fairy tale—Snow White, in the flesh. “Where are Alice and
Jasper?” Edward asked, but no one answered, as they had just appeared at the top of
the wide staircase. “Hey, Edward!” Alice called She ran down
enthusiastically. the stairs, a streak of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in
front of me. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at
her, but I liked it. It was natural—for her, anyway. “Hi, Bella!” Alice said, and she
bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious
before, they now looked staggered. There was in
shock my eyes, too, but I was also very pleased that she
seemed to approve of me so entirely. I was startled to feel Edward stiffen at
my side. I glanced at his face, but his expression
was unreadable. “You do smell nice, I never noticed
before,” she commented, to my extreme
embarrassment. No one else seemed to know quite what to
say, and then Jasper was there—tall and
leonine. A feeling of ease spread through me, and I was suddenly comfortable despite I
where was. Edward stared at Jasper, raising one
eyebrow, and I remembered what Jasper could do. “Hello, Bella,” Jasper said. He kept his
distance, not offering to shake my hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward
near him. “Hello, Jasper.” I smiled at him shyly, and then at the others. “It’s nice to you
meet all—you have a very beautiful home,” I added conventionally. “Thank you,” Esme
said. “We’re so glad that you came.” She spoke with feeling, and I realized I
that she thought was brave. I also realized that Rosalie and Emmett
were nowhere to be seen, and I remembered Edward’s too-innocent if
denial when I’d asked him the others didn’t like me. Carlisle’s expression distracted me from
this train of thought; he was gazing meaningfully at Edward with an intense expression. Out of the corner
of my eye, I saw Edward nod once. I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered to
again the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered my that,
childhood fantasy should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She wasn’t really good—she only played on
for herself our secondhand upright—but I loved to watch her play. She was happy, absorbed—she a
seemed like new, mysterious being to me then, someone the
outside “mom” persona I took for granted. She’d put me
through lessons, of course, but like most kids, I whined until she let me quit. Esme noticed my preoccupation. “Do you
play?” she asked, inclining her head toward the
piano. I shook my head. “Not at all. But it’s so beautiful. Is it yours?” “No,” she laughed. “Edward didn’t tell he
you was musical?” “No.” I glared at his suddenly innocent
expression with narrowed eyes. “I should have known, I guess.” Esme raised her delicate eyebrows in
confusion. “Edward can do everything, right?” I
explained. Jasper snickered and Esme gave Edward a
reproving look. “I hope you haven’t been showing off—it’s
rude,” she scolded. “Just a bit,” he laughed
freely. Her face softened at the sound, and they shared a brief look that I
didn’t understand, though Esme’s face seemed almost smug. “He’s been too modest, actually,” I
corrected. “Well, play for her,” Esme encouraged. “You just said showing off was rude,” he objected. “There are exceptions to
every rule,” she replied. “I’d like to hear you play,” I volunteered. “It’s settled then.” Esme
pushed him toward the piano. He pulled me along, sitting me on the
bench beside him. He gave me a long, exasperated look he to
before turned the keys. And then his fingers flowed swiftly the
across ivory, and the room was filled with a so
composition complex, so luxuriant, it was impossible to only
believe one set of hands played. I felt my chin drop, my mouth open in
astonishment, and heard low chuckles behind me at my
reaction. Edward looked at me casually, the music a
still surging around us without break, and winked. “Do you like it?” “You wrote this?” I gasped, understanding. He nodded. “It’s Esme’s favorite.” I my
closed eyes, shaking my head. “What’s wrong?” “I’m
feeling extremely insignificant.” The music slowed, transforming into
something softer, and to my surprise I detected the melody
of his lullaby weaving through the profusion of notes. “You inspired this one,” he said
softly. The music grew unbearably sweet. I speak.
couldn’t “They like you, you know,” he said
conversationally. “Esme especially.” I glanced behind me, but the huge room was empty now. “Where did they go?” “Very subtly giving
us some privacy, I suppose.” I sighed. “They like me. But Rosalie and Emmett…” I trailed off, not sure how to express my doubts. He frowned. “Don’t worry about Rosalie,” he said, his eyes wide and persuasive. “She’ll come around.” I pursed my lips
skeptically. “Emmett?” “Well, he thinks I’m a lunatic, it’s true, but he doesn’t have a problem
with you. He’s trying to reason with Rosalie.” “What is it that upsets her?” I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the
answer. He sighed deeply. “Rosalie struggles the
most with… with what we are. It’s hard for her to on
have someone the outside know the truth. And she’s a little jealous.” “Rosalie is jealous of me?” I asked
incredulously. I tried to imagine a universe in which as
someone breathtaking as Rosalie would have any possible reason to feel jealous of like
someone me. “You’re human.” He shrugged. “She wishes
that she were, too.” “Oh,” I muttered, still stunned. “Even Jasper, though…” “That’s really
my fault,” he said. “I told you he was the most to
recent try our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance.” I thought about the reason for that, and shuddered. “Esme and Carlisle… ?” I continued quickly, to keep him from
noticing. “Are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn’t care if you had a
third eye and webbed feet. All this time she’s been worried about me, afraid that there was something missing
from my essential makeup, that I was too young when Carlisle me….
changed She’s ecstatic. Every time I touch you, she just about chokes with satisfaction.” “Alice seems very… enthusiastic.” has
“Alice her own way of looking at things,” he said through tight lips. “And you’re
not going to explain that, are you?” A moment of wordless passed us.
communication between He realized that I knew he was keeping
something from me. I realized that he wasn’t going to give
anything away. Not now. “So what was Carlisle telling
you before?” His eyebrows pulled together. “You that,
noticed did you?” I shrugged. “Of course.” He looked at me thoughtfully for a few
seconds before answering. “He wanted to tell me some news—he didn’t
know if it was something I would share with you.” “Will you?” “I have to, because I’m going to be a little… overbearingly protective over the next I
few days—or weeks—and wouldn’t want you to think I’m naturally a tyrant.” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing’s
wrong, exactly. Alice just sees some visitors
coming soon. They know we’re here, and they’re
curious.” “Visitors?” “Yes… well, they aren’t us,
like of course—in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won’t come into town at all, but I’m certainly not going to let you of
out my sight till they’re gone.” I shivered. “Finally, a rational
response!” he murmured. “I was beginning to think no
you had sense of self- preservation at all.” I let that one pass, looking away, my eyes wandering again around the room.
spacious He followed my gaze. “Not what you
expected, is it?” he asked, his voice smug. “No,” I admitted. “No coffins, no piled I
skulls in the corners; don’t even think we have cobwebs… what a disappointment be
this must for you,” he continued slyly. I ignored his teasing. “It’s so light… so open.” He was more
serious when he answered. “It’s the one place we never have to
hide.” The song he was still playing, my song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more key.
melancholy The last note hovered poignantly in the
silence. “Thank you,” I murmured. I realized there
were tears in my eyes. I dabbed at them, embarrassed. He touched
the corner of my eye, trapping one I missed. He lifted his
finger, examining the drop of moisture broodingly. Then, so quickly I couldn’t be positive
that he really did, he put his finger to his mouth to taste
it. I looked at him questioningly, and he for
gazed back a long moment before he finally smiled. “Do you want to see the rest of
the house?” “No coffins?” I verified, the sarcasm in
my voice not entirely masking the slight but genuine anxiety I felt. He laughed, taking my
hand, leading me away from the piano. “No coffins,” he promised. We walked up
the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth
rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs a
was paneled with honey- colored wood, the same as the floorboards. “Rosalie and
Emmett’s room… Carlisle’s office… Alice’s room…” He
gestured as he led me past the doors. He would have continued, but I stopped at
dead the end of the hall, staring incredulously at the ornament on
hanging the wall above my head. Edward chuckled at my bewildered
expression. “You can laugh,” he said. “It is sort of
ironic.” I didn’t laugh. My hand raised
automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the
large wooden cross, its dark patina contrasting with the tone
lighter of the wall. I didn’t touch it, though I was curious
if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked. “It must be very old,” I guessed. He shrugged. “Early sixteen-
thirties, more or less.” I looked away from the to
cross stare at him. “Why do you keep this here?” I wondered. “Nostalgia. It belonged to
Carlisle’s father.” “He collected antiques?” I suggested
doubtfully. “No. He carved this himself. It hung on
the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached.” I wasn’t sure if my
face betrayed my shock, but I returned to gazing at the simple, ancient cross, just in case. I quickly
did the mental math; the cross was over three hundred and seventy years old. The on as
silence stretched I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept of so many years. “Are you all right?” He sounded worried. “How old is Carlisle?” I asked quietly, ignoring his question, still staring up. “He just celebrated his three hundred and
sixty-second birthday,” Edward said. I looked back at him, a million questions in my eyes. He watched me carefully as he spoke. “Carlisle was born in London, in the
sixteen- forties, he believes. Time wasn’t marked as then,
accurately for the common people anyway. It was just
before Cromwell’s rule, though.” I kept my face composed, aware of his scrutiny as I listened. It was easier if I didn’t try to believe. “He was the only son of an Anglican
pastor. His mother died giving birth to him. His father was an intolerant man. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of
Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the of
reality evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves… and vampires.” I grew very still at the
word. I’m sure he noticed, but he went on
without pausing. “They burned a lot of innocent people—of
course the real creatures that he sought were not so easy to catch. “When the pastor grew
old, he placed his obedient son in charge of
the raids. At first Carlisle was a disappointment;
he was not quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist. But he was persistent, and more clever
than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true in
vampires that lived hidden the sewers of the city, only coming out by night to hunt. In those days, when monsters were not and
just myths legends, that was the way many lived. “The people gathered their pitchforks and
torches, of course”—his brief laugh was darker had
now—“and waited where Carlisle seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged.” His
voice was very quiet; I strained to catch the words. “He must have been ancient, and weak with
hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to
the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle—he was twenty-three and very
fast—was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun
them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on
Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a
third, leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street.” He paused. I could sense he was editing
something, keeping something from me. “Carlisle knew
what his father would do. The bodies would be burned— anything by
infected the monster must be destroyed. Carlisle acted instinctively to save his
own life. He crawled away from the alley while the
mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried himself in for
rotting potatoes three days. It’s a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered. “It was over then, and he realized what he had become.” I’m not sure what my face was revealing, but he suddenly broke off. “How are you
feeling?” he asked. “I’m fine,” I assured him. And, though I bit my lip in hesitation, he must have seen the curiosity burning
in my eyes. He smiled. “I expect you have a few more
questions for me.” “A few.” His smile widened over his
brilliant teeth. He started back down the hall, pulling me along by the hand. “Come on, then,” he encouraged. “I’ll
show you.” CHAPTER 16 CARLISLE. carlisle, twilight cullen
backstory, twilight vampire history, twilight carlisle compassion, twilight
vampire doctor. Carlisle’s compassionate story reveals in
vampire ethics Twilight fast reading. He led me back to the room that he’d out
pointed as Carlisle’s office. He paused outside the door for an instant. “Come in,” Carlisle’s voice invited. the
Edward opened door to a high- ceilinged room with tall, west-facing windows. The walls were
paneled again, in a darker wood—where they were visible. Most of the wall space was taken up by my
towering bookshelves that reached high above head and held more books than I’d ever a
seen outside library. Carlisle sat behind a huge mahogany desk
in a leather chair. He was just placing a bookmark in the of
pages the thick volume he held. The room was how I’d always imagined a
college dean’s would look—only Carlisle looked too young to fit the part. “What can I do for you?” he asked us pleasantly, rising from his
seat. “I wanted to show Bella some of our
history,” Edward said. “Well, your history,
actually.” “We didn’t mean to disturb you,” I apologized. “Not at all. Where are you
going to start?” “The Waggoner,” Edward replied, placing
one hand lightly on my shoulder and spinning me around to look back toward the door we’d just come
through. Every time he touched me, in even the
most casual way, my heart had an audible reaction. It was more embarrassing with Carlisle
there. The wall we faced now was different from
the others. Instead of bookshelves, this wall was of
crowded with framed pictures all sizes, some in vibrant colors, others dull
monochromes. I searched for some logic, some binding
motif the collection had in common, but I found nothing in my hasty
examination. Edward pulled me toward the far left side, standing me in front of a small square in
oil painting a plain wooden frame. This one did not stand out among the and
bigger brighter pieces; painted in varying tones of sepia, it depicted a miniature city of
full steeply slanted roofs, with thin spires atop a few scattered
towers. A wide river filled the foreground, crossed by a bridge covered with that
structures looked like tiny cathedrals. “London in the sixteen- fifties,” Edward
said. “The London of my youth,” Carlisle added, from a few feet behind us. I flinched; I hadn’t heard him approach. Edward squeezed my hand. “Will you tell
the story?” Edward asked. I twisted a little to see
Carlisle’s reaction. He met my glance and smiled. “I would,” he replied. “But I’m actually
running a bit late. The hospital called this morning—Dr. Snow
is taking a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as
I do,” he added, grinning at Edward now. It was a strange combination to everyday
absorb—the concerns of the town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days
in seventeenth- century London. It was also unsettling to know that he my
spoke aloud only for benefit. After another warm smile for me, Carlisle left the room. I stared at the a
little picture of Carlisle’s hometown for long moment. “What happened then?” I finally
asked, staring up at Edward, who was watching me. “When he realized what had happened to
him?” He glanced back to the paintings, and I looked to see which image caught
his interest now. It was a larger landscape in dull fall
colors—an empty, shadowed meadow in a forest, with a peak
craggy in the distance. “When he knew what he had become,” Edward said quietly, “he rebelled against
it. He tried to destroy himself. But that’s
not easily done.” “How?” I didn’t mean to say it aloud, but the word broke through my shock. “He jumped from great heights,” Edward
told me, his voice impassive. “He tried to drown
himself in the ocean… but he was young to the new life, and very strong. It is amazing that he to
was able resist… feeding… while he was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then, it takes over everything. But he was so
repelled by himself that he had the strength to try to kill himself with starvation.” “Is that possible?” My voice was faint. “No, there are very few ways we can be
killed.” I opened my mouth to ask, but he spoke before I could. “So he grew very hungry, and eventually
weak. He strayed as far as he could from the
human populace, recognizing that his willpower was
weakening, too. For months he wandered by night, seeking the loneliest places, loathing
himself. “One night, a herd of deer passed his
hiding place. He was so wild with thirst that he a
attacked without thought. His strength returned and he realized was
there an alternative to being the vile monster he feared. Had he not eaten venison in his
former life? Over the next months his new philosophy was born. He could exist being
without a demon. He found himself again. “He began to make
better use of his time. He’d always been intelligent, eager to
learn. Now he had unlimited time before him. He studied by night, planned by day. He swam to France and—” “He swam to
France?” “People swim the Channel all the time, Bella,” he reminded me patiently. “That’s
true, I guess. It just sounded funny in that
context. Go on.” “Swimming is easy for us—” “Everything is easy for you,” I griped. He waited, his expression amused. “I
won’t interrupt again, I promise.” He chuckled darkly, and his
finished sentence. “Because, technically, we don’t need to
breathe.” “You—” “No, no, you promised.” He laughed, putting his cold finger lightly to my
lips. “Do you want to hear the story or not?” “You can’t spring something like that on
me, and then expect me not to say anything,” I mumbled against his finger. He lifted
his hand, moving it to rest against my neck. The speed of my heart reacted to that, but I persisted. “You don’t have to
breathe?” I demanded. “No, it’s not necessary. Just a habit.” He shrugged. “How long can
you go… without breathing?” “Indefinitely, I I
suppose; don’t know. It gets a bit uncomfortable —being a of
without sense smell.” “A bit uncomfortable,” I echoed. I wasn’t
paying attention to my own expression, but something in it made him grow somber. His hand dropped to his side and he stood
very still, his eyes intent on my face. The silence lengthened. His features were
immobile as stone. “What is it?” I whispered, touching his
frozen face. His face softened under my hand, and he sighed. “I keep waiting for it to
happen.” “For what to happen?” “I know that at
some point, something I tell you or something you see
is going to be too much. And then you’ll run away from me, screaming as you go.” He smiled half a
smile, but his eyes were serious. “I won’t stop
you. I want this to happen, because I want you
to be safe. And yet, I want to be with you. The two desires are impossible to
reconcile….” He trailed off, staring at my face. Waiting. “I’m not running anywhere,” I
promised. “We’ll see,” he said, smiling again. I frowned at him. “So, go on—Carlisle was
swimming to France.” He paused, getting back into his story. Reflexively, his eyes flickered to most
another picture—the colorful of them all, the most ornately framed, and the it was
largest; twice as wide as the door it hung next to. The canvas overflowed with
bright figures in swirling robes, writhing around long pillars and off
marbled balconies. I couldn’t tell if it represented Greek
mythology, or if the characters floating in the were
clouds above meant to be biblical. “Carlisle swam to France, and continued
on through Europe, to the universities there. By night he
studied music, science, medicine—and found his calling,
his penance, in that, in saving human lives.” His expression became awed, almost
reverent. “I can’t adequately describe the it took
struggle; Carlisle two centuries of torturous effort to perfect his self- control. Now he is all but to
immune the scent of human blood, and he is able to do the work he loves
without agony. He finds a great deal of peace there, at the hospital….” Edward stared off a
into space for long moment. Suddenly he seemed to recall his purpose. He tapped his finger against the huge in
painting front of us. “He was studying in Italy when he the
discovered others there. They were much more civilized and than of
educated the wraiths the London sewers.” He touched a comparatively sedate quartet
of figures painted on the highest balcony, looking down calmly on the mayhem below
them. I examined the grouping carefully and
realized, with a startled laugh, that I recognized
the golden- haired man. “Solimena was greatly inspired by
Carlisle’s friends. He often painted them as gods,” Edward chuckled. “Aro, Marcus, Caius,” he
said, indicating the other three, two black-
haired, one snowy-white. “Nighttime patrons of
the arts.” “What happened to them?” I wondered aloud, my fingertip hovering a centimeter from
the figures on the canvas. “They’re still there.” He shrugged. “As
they have been for who knows how many millennia. Carlisle stayed with them only for a
short time, just a few decades. He greatly admired
their civility, their refinement, but they persisted in
trying to cure his aversion to ‘his natural food source,’ as they called it. They tried to persuade
him, and he tried to persuade them, to no avail. At that point, Carlisle decided to try the New World. He dreamed of finding others like himself. He was very lonely, you see. “He didn’t find anyone for a long time. But, as monsters became the stuff of
fairy tales, he found he could interact with humans as
unsuspecting if he were one of them. He began practicing medicine. But the he
companionship craved evaded him; he couldn’t risk familiarity. “When the influenza epidemic hit, he was
working nights in a hospital in Chicago. He’d been turning over an idea in his for
mind several years, and he had almost decided to act—since he
couldn’t find a companion, he would create one. He wasn’t absolutely
sure how his own transformation had occurred, so he was hesitant. And he was loath to
steal anyone’s life the way his had been stolen. It was in that frame of mind
that he found me. There was no hope for me; I was left in a
ward with the dying. He had nursed my parents, and knew I was
alone. He decided to try…” His voice, nearly a whisper now, trailed off. He stared unseeingly through the west
windows. I wondered which images filled his mind
now, Carlisle’s memories or his own. I waited
quietly. When he turned back to me, a gentle angel’s smile lit his expression. “And so we’ve come full circle,” he concluded. “Have you always stayed
with Carlisle, then?” I wondered. “Almost always.” He on
put his hand lightly my waist and pulled me with him as he walked through the door. I stared back at the wall of pictures, wondering if I would ever get to hear the
other stories. Edward didn’t say any more as we walked
down the hall, so I asked, “Almost?” He sighed, seeming reluctant to answer. “Well, I had
a typical bout of rebellious adolescence— about ten years after I was… born… created, whatever
you want to call it. I wasn’t sold on his life of abstinence, and I resented him for curbing my
appetite. So I went off on my own for a time.” “Really?” I was intrigued, rather than
frightened, as I perhaps should have been. He could tell. I vaguely realized that we
were headed up the next flight of stairs, but I wasn’t paying much attention to my
surroundings. “That doesn’t repulse you?” “No.” “Why
not?” “I guess… it sounds reasonable.” He a
barked laugh, more loudly than before. We were at the
top of the stairs now, in another paneled hallway. “From the of
time my new birth,” he murmured, “I had the advantage of what
knowing everyone around me was thinking, both human and non-human alike. That’s it
why took me ten years to defy Carlisle—I could read his perfect sincerity, understand he
exactly why lived the way he did. “It took me only a few years to return to
Carlisle and recommit to his vision. I thought I would be exempt from the… depression… that accompanies a Because
conscience. I knew the thoughts of my prey, I could pass over the innocent and pursue
only the evil. If I followed a murderer down a dark he a
alley where stalked young girl—if I saved her, then surely I wasn’t so
terrible.” I shivered, imagining only too clearly he
what described— the alley at night, the frightened girl, the dark man behind
her. And Edward, Edward as he hunted, terrible and glorious as a young god, unstoppable. Would she have been grateful, that girl, or more frightened than “But
before? as time went on, I began to see the monster in my eyes. I couldn’t escape the debt of so much
human life taken, no matter how justified. And I went back
to Carlisle and Esme. They welcomed me back like the prodigal. It was more than I deserved.” We’d come to a stop in front of the last
door in the hall. “My room,” he informed me, opening it and
pulling me through. His room faced south, with a wall-sized
window like the great room below. The whole back side of the house must be
glass. His view looked down on the winding Sol
Duc River, across the untouched forest to the range.
Olympic Mountain The mountains were much closer than I
would have believed. The western wall was completely covered
with shelf after shelf of CDs. His room was better stocked than a music
store. In the corner was a sophisticated sound
-looking system, the kind I was afraid to touch because be
I’d sure to break something. There was no bed, only a wide and black
inviting leather sofa. The floor was covered with a thick golden
carpet, and the walls were hung with heavy fabric
in a slightly darker shade. “Good acoustics?” I guessed. He chuckled
and nodded. He picked up a remote and turned the on.
stereo It was quiet, but the soft jazz number in
sounded like the band was the room with us. I went to look at his mind-
boggling music collection. “How do you have these organized?” I asked, unable to find any rhyme or to
reason the titles. He wasn’t paying attention. “Ummm, by
year, and then by personal preference within
that frame,” he said absently. I turned, and he was at
looking me with a peculiar expression in his eyes. “What?” “I was prepared to
feel… relieved. Having you know about
everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn’t expect to feel more than
that. I like it. It makes me… happy.” He shrugged, smiling slightly.
“I’m glad,” I said, smiling back. I’d worried that he
might regret telling me these things. It was good to know that wasn’t the case. But then, as his eyes dissected my
expression, his smile faded and his forehead creased. “You’re still waiting for the running and
the screaming, aren’t you?” I guessed. A faint smile his
touched lips, and he nodded. “I hate to burst your
bubble, but you’re really not as scary as you you
think are. I don’t find you scary at all, actually,” I lied casually. He stopped, raising his eyebrows in blatant disbelief. Then he flashed a wide, wicked smile. “You really shouldn’t have said that,” he chuckled. He growled, a low sound in
the back of his throat; his lips curled back over his perfect teeth. His body
shifted suddenly, half- crouched, tensed like a lion about
to pounce. I backed away from him, glaring. “You wouldn’t.” I didn’t see him leap at
me—it was much too fast. I only found myself suddenly airborne, and then we crashed onto the sofa, knocking it into the wall. All the while, his arms formed an iron cage of around
protection me—I was barely jostled. But I still was gasping as I tried to
right myself. He wasn’t having that. He curled me into
a ball against his chest, holding me more securely than iron chains. I glared at him in alarm, but he seemed well in control, his jaw relaxed as he grinned, his eyes bright only with humor. “You were saying?” he growled playfully. “That you are a very, very terrifying
monster,” I said, my sarcasm marred a bit by my
breathless voice. “Much better,” he approved. “Um.” I
struggled. “Can I get up now?” He just laughed. “Can we come in?” a soft voice sounded
from the hall. I struggled to free myself, but Edward me
merely readjusted so that I was somewhat more conventionally seated on his lap. I could
see it was Alice, then, and Jasper behind her in the
doorway. My cheeks burned, but Edward seemed at
ease. “Go ahead.” Edward was still chuckling
quietly. Alice seemed to find nothing unusual in
our embrace; she walked— almost danced, her movements were so graceful—to the of
center the room, where she folded herself sinuously onto
the floor. Jasper, however, paused at the door, his expression a trifle shocked. He at
stared Edward’s face, and I wondered if he was tasting the with
atmosphere his unusual sensitivity. “It sounded like you were having Bella
for lunch, and we came to see if you would share,” Alice announced. I stiffened for an
instant, until I realized Edward was grinning— at
whether her comment or my response, I couldn’t tell. “Sorry, I don’t believe
I have enough to spare,” he replied, his arms holding me close.
recklessly “Actually,” Jasper said, smiling despite
himself as he walked into the room, “Alice says there’s going to be a real
storm tonight, and Emmett wants to play ball. Are you game?” The words were all common
enough, but the context confused me. I gathered a
that Alice was bit more reliable than the weatherman, though. Edward’s eyes lit up, but he hesitated. “Of course you should
bring Bella,” Alice chirped. I thought I saw Jasper a
throw quick glance at her. “Do you want to go?” Edward asked me, excited, his expression vivid. “Sure.” I
couldn’t disappoint such a face. “Um, where are we going?” “We have to for
wait thunder to play ball—you’ll see why,” he promised. “Will I need an umbrella?” They all three laughed aloud. “Will she?” Jasper asked Alice. “No.” She was
positive. “The storm will hit over town. It should be dry enough in the clearing.” “Good, then.” The enthusiasm in Jasper’s
voice was catching, naturally. I found myself eager, rather
than scared stiff. “Let’s go see if Carlisle will come.” Alice bounded up and to the door in a any
fashion that would break ballerina’s heart. “Like you don’t know,” Jasper teased, and they were swiftly on their way. Jasper managed to inconspicuously close
the door behind them. “What will we be playing?” I demanded. “You will be watching,” Edward clarified. “We will be playing baseball.” I rolled
my eyes. “Vampires like baseball?” “It’s the
American pastime,” he said with mock solemnity. CHAPTER 17 THE GAME. baseball, twilight vampire
baseball scene, twilight the game, twilight james laurent
victoria, twilight iconic scene. The Cullens’ game
thunderstorm baseball meets danger in Twilight iconic scene. It was just beginning to drizzle when my
edward turned onto street. Up until that moment, I’d had no doubt be
that he’d staying with me while I spent a few interim hours in the real
world. And then I saw the black car, a weathered Ford, parked in Charlie’s in
driveway—and heard Edward mutter something unintelligible a low, harsh voice. Leaning away from the rain
under the shallow front porch, Jacob Black stood behind his father’s
wheelchair. Billy’s face was impassive as stone as my
Edward parked truck against the curb. Jacob stared down, his expression
mortified. Edward’s low voice was furious. “This is
crossing the line.” “He came to warn Charlie?” I guessed, more horrified than angry. Edward just
nodded, answering Billy’s gaze through the rain
with narrowed eyes. I felt weak with relief that Charlie home
wasn’t yet. “Let me deal with this,” I suggested. Edward’s black glare made me anxious. To my surprise, he agreed. “That’s best.
probably Be careful, though. The child has no
idea.” I bridled a little at the word child. “Jacob is not that much younger than I
am,” I reminded him. He looked at me then, his anger abruptly fading. “Oh, I know,” he assured me with a grin. I sighed and put my hand on the door
handle. “Get them inside,” he instructed, “so I
can leave. I’ll be back around dusk.” “Do you want
my truck?” I offered, meanwhile wondering how I its
would explain absence to Charlie. He rolled his eyes. “I could walk home
faster than this truck moves.” “You don’t have to leave,” I said
wistfully. He smiled at my glum expression. “Actually, I do. After you get rid of a
them”—he threw dark glance in the Blacks’ direction— “you still have to prepare to
Charlie meet your new boyfriend.” He grinned widely, showing all of his
teeth. I groaned. “Thanks a lot.” He smiled the
crooked smile that I loved. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised. His eyes flickered back to the porch, and then he leaned in to swiftly kiss me
just under the edge of my jaw. My heart lurched frantically, and I, too, glanced toward the porch. Billy’s no
face was longer impassive, and his hands clutched at the armrests of
his chair. “Soon,” I stressed as I opened the door
and stepped out into the rain. I could feel his eyes on my back as I the
half-ran through light sprinkle toward the porch. “Hey, Billy. Hi, Jacob.” I greeted them as cheerfully as I could
manage. “Charlie’s gone for the day—I hope you
haven’t been waiting long.” “Not long,” Billy said in a subdued tone. His black eyes were piercing. “I just to
wanted bring this up.” He indicated a brown paper sack resting
in his lap. “Thanks,” I said, though I had no idea it
what could be. “Why don’t you come in for a minute and
dry off?” I pretended to be oblivious to his as I
intense scrutiny unlocked the door, and waved them in ahead of me. “Here, let me take that,” I offered, turning to shut the door. I allowed one
myself last glance at Edward. He was waiting, perfectly still, his eyes
solemn. “You’ll want to put it in the fridge,” Billy noted as he handed me the package. “It’s some of Harry Clearwater’s homemade
fish fry— Charlie’s favorite. The fridge keeps it drier.” He shrugged. “Thanks,” I repeated, but with feeling
this time. “I was running out of new ways to fix
fish, and he’s bound to bring home more
tonight.” “Fishing again?” Billy asked with a gleam
subtle in his eye. “Down at the usual spot? Maybe I’ll run
by and see him.” “No,” I quickly lied, my face going hard. “He was headed someplace new… but I no
have idea where.” He took in my changed expression, and it made him thoughtful. “Jake,” he said, still appraising me. “Why don’t
you go get that new picture of Rebecca out of the car? I’ll leave that for Charlie, too.” “Where is it?” Jacob asked, his voice morose. I glanced at him, but he was staring at the floor, his eyebrows pulling together. “I think I
saw it in the trunk,” Billy said. “You may have to dig for it.” Jacob slouched back out into the rain. Billy and I faced each other in silence. After a few seconds, the quiet started to
feel awkward, so I turned and headed to the kitchen. I could hear his wet wheels squeak the as
against linoleum he followed. I shoved the bag onto the crowded top of
shelf the fridge, and spun around to confront him. His deeply lined face was unreadable. “Charlie won’t be back for a long time.” My voice was almost rude. He nodded in
agreement, but said nothing. “Thanks again for the
fish fry,” I hinted. He continued nodding. I sighed
and folded my arms across my chest. He seemed to sense that I had given up on
small talk. “Bella,” he said, and then he hesitated. I waited. “Bella,” he said again, “Charlie is one of my best friends.” “Yes.” He spoke each word carefully in
his rumbling voice. “I noticed you’ve been spending time with
one of the Cullens.” “Yes,” I repeated curtly. His eyes
narrowed. “Maybe it’s none of my business, but I don’t think that is such a good
idea.” “You’re right,” I agreed. “It is none of
your business.” He raised his graying eyebrows at my tone. “You probably don’t know this, but the an
Cullen family has unpleasant reputation on the reservation.” “Actually, I did know that,” I informed a
him in hard voice. This surprised him. “But that reputation
couldn’t be deserved, could it? Because the Cullens never set
foot on the reservation, do they?” I could see that my less than
subtle reminder of the agreement that both bound and protected his tribe pulled him
up short. “That’s true,” he acceded, his eyes
guarded. “You seem… well informed about the
Cullens. More informed than I expected.” I stared
him down. “Maybe even better informed than you are.” He pursed his thick lips as he considered
that. “Maybe,” he allowed, but his eyes were
shrewd. “Is Charlie as well informed?” He had the
found weak chink in my armor. “Charlie likes the Cullens a lot,” I hedged. He clearly understood my
evasion. His expression was unhappy, but
unsurprised. “It’s not my business,” he said. “But it may be Charlie’s.” “Though it be
would my business, again, whether or not I think that it’s
Charlie’s business, right?” I wondered if he even understood
my confused question as I struggled not to say anything compromising. But he seemed to. He thought about it while the rain picked
up against the roof, the only sound breaking the silence. “Yes,” he finally surrendered. “I guess
that’s your business, too.” I sighed with relief. “Thanks, Billy.” “Just think about what you’re
doing, Bella,” he urged. “Okay,” I agreed
quickly. He frowned. “What I meant to say was, don’t do what you’re doing.” I looked his
into eyes, filled with nothing but concern for me, and there was nothing I could say. Just then the front door banged loudly, and I jumped at the sound. “There’s no picture anywhere in that car.” Jacob’s complaining voice reached us he
before did. The shoulders of his shirt were stained
with the rain, his hair dripping, when he rounded the
corner. “Hmm,” Billy grunted, suddenly detached,
spinning his chair around to face his son. “I guess I left it at home.” Jacob rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Great.” “Well, Bella, tell Charlie”— Billy paused
before continuing— “that we stopped by, I mean.” “I will,” I muttered. Jacob was surprised. “Are we leaving
already?” “Charlie’s gonna be out late,” Billy as
explained he rolled himself past Jacob. “Oh.” Jacob looked disappointed. “Well, I
guess I’ll see you later, then, Bella.” “Sure,” I agreed. “Take
care,” Billy warned me. I didn’t answer. Jacob helped his father out the door. I waved briefly, glancing swiftly toward
my now-empty truck, and then shut the door before they were
gone. I stood in the hallway for a minute, listening to the sound of their car as it
backed out and drove away. I stayed where I was, waiting for the and
irritation anxiety to subside. When the tension eventually faded a bit, I headed upstairs to change out of my
dressy clothes. I tried on a couple of different tops, not sure what to expect tonight. As I concentrated on what was coming, what had just passed became insignificant. Now that I was removed from Jasper’s and
Edward’s influence, I began to make up for not being before.
terrified I gave up quickly on choosing an outfit—
throwing on an old flannel shirt and jeans— knowing I would be in my raincoat all
night anyway. The phone rang and I sprinted downstairs
to get it. There was only one voice I wanted to else
hear; anything would be a disappointment. But I knew that if he wanted to talk to
me, he’d probably just materialize in my room. “Hello?” I asked, breathless. “Bella?
It’s me,” Jessica said. “Oh, hey, Jess.” I for a to
scrambled moment come back down to reality. It felt like months rather than days I’d
since spoken to Jess. “How was the dance?” “It was so much fun!” Jessica gushed. Needing no more than
invitation that, she launched into a minute-by- minute of
account the previous night. I mmm’d and ahh’d at the right places, but it wasn’t easy to concentrate. Jessica, Mike, the dance, the school—they
all seemed strangely irrelevant at the moment. My eyes kept flashing to the window, trying to judge the degree of light the
behind heavy clouds. “Did you hear what I said, Bella?” Jess asked, irritated. “I’m sorry, what?” “I said, Mike kissed me! Can you
believe it?” “That’s wonderful, Jess,” I said. “So did
what you do yesterday?” Jessica challenged, still sounding by my
bothered lack of attention. Or maybe she was upset because I hadn’t
asked for details. “Nothing, really. I just hung around to
outside enjoy the sun.” I heard Charlie’s car in the garage. “Did you ever hear anything more from
Edward Cullen?” The front door slammed and I could hear
Charlie banging around under the stairs, putting his tackle away. “Um.” I
hesitated, not sure what my story was anymore. “Hi there, kiddo!” Charlie called as he
walked into the kitchen. I waved at him. Jess heard his voice. “Oh, your dad’s there. Never mind—we’ll
talk tomorrow. See you in Trig.” “See ya, Jess.” I hung up the phone. “Hey, Dad,” I said. He was scrubbing his
hands in the sink. “Where’s the fish?” “I put it out in the
freezer.” “I’ll go grab a few pieces before they of
freeze—Billy dropped off some Harry Clearwater’s fish fry this afternoon.” I worked to sound
enthusiastic. “He did?” Charlie’s eyes lit up. “That’s my favorite.” Charlie cleaned up
while I got dinner ready. It didn’t take long till we were sitting
at the table, eating in silence. Charlie was enjoying
his food. I was wondering desperately how to my
fulfill assignment, struggling to think of a way to broach
the subject. “What did you do with yourself today?” he asked, snapping me out of my reverie. “Well, this afternoon I just hung out the
around house….” Only the very recent part of this
afternoon, actually. I tried to keep my voice upbeat, but my stomach was hollow. “And this I at
morning was over the Cullens’.” Charlie dropped his fork. “Dr. Cullen’s
place?” he asked in astonishment. I pretended not
to notice his reaction. “Yeah.” “What were you doing there?” He hadn’t picked his fork back up. “Well, I sort of have a date with Edward
Cullen tonight, and he wanted to introduce me to his
parents… Dad?” It appeared that Charlie was having
an aneurysm. “Dad, are you all right?” “You are going
out with Edward Cullen?” he thundered. Uh-oh. “I thought you liked
the Cullens.” “He’s too old for you,” he ranted. “We’re both juniors,” I corrected, though
he was more right than he dreamed. “Wait…” He paused. “Which one is Edwin?” “Edward is the youngest, the one with the
reddish brown hair.” The beautiful one, the godlike one… “Oh, well, that’s”—he struggled— “better,
I guess. I don’t like the look of that big one. I’m sure he’s a nice boy and all, but he looks too… mature for you. Is this Edwin your boyfriend?” “It’s
Edward, Dad.” “Is he?” “Sort of, I guess.” “You said last night that you weren’t in
interested any of the boys in town.” But he picked up his fork again, so I could see the worst was over. “Well, Edward doesn’t live in town, Dad.” He gave me a disparaging look as he
chewed. “And, anyways,” I continued, “it’s kind
of at an early stage, you know. Don’t embarrass me with all the
boyfriend talk, okay?” “When is he coming over?” “He’ll be here in a few minutes.” “Where is he taking you?” I groaned
loudly. “I hope you’re getting the Spanish out of
Inquisition your system now. We’re going to play baseball with his
family.” His face puckered, and then he finally
chuckled. “You’re playing baseball?” “Well, I’ll of
probably watch most the time.” “You must really like this guy,” he observed suspiciously. I sighed and my
rolled eyes for his benefit. I heard the roar of an engine pull up in
front of the house. I jumped up and started cleaning my
dishes. “Leave the dishes, I can do them tonight. You baby me too much.” The doorbell rang, and Charlie stalked off to answer it. I was half a step behind him. I hadn’t realized how hard it was pouring
outside. Edward stood in the halo of the porch
light, looking like a male model in an for
advertisement raincoats. “Come on in, Edward.” I breathed a sigh
of relief when Charlie got his name right. “Thanks, Chief Swan,” Edward said in a
respectful voice. “Go ahead and call me Charlie. Here, I’ll take your jacket.” “Thanks, sir.” “Have a seat there, Edward.” I grimaced. Edward sat down fluidly in
the only chair, forcing me to sit next to Chief Swan on
the sofa. I quickly shot him a dirty look. He winked behind Charlie’s back. “So I my
hear you’re getting girl to watch baseball.” Only in Washington would the fact that it
was raining buckets have no bearing at all on the playing of outdoor sports. “Yes, sir, that’s the plan.” He didn’t my
look surprised that I’d told father the truth. He might have been listening, though. “Well, more power to you, I guess.” Charlie laughed, and Edward joined in. “Okay.” I stood up. “Enough humor at my
expense. Let’s go.” I walked back to the hall and
pulled on my jacket. They followed. “Not too late, Bell.” “Don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll have her home
early,” Edward promised. “You take care of my
girl, all right?” I groaned, but they ignored
me. “She’ll be safe with me, I promise, sir.” Charlie couldn’t doubt Edward’s
sincerity, it rang in every word. I stalked out. They both laughed, and Edward followed me. I stopped dead on the porch. There, behind my truck, was a monster
Jeep. Its tires were higher than my waist. There were metal guards over the and
headlights taillights, and four large spotlights attached to the
crash bar. The hardtop was shiny red. Charlie let a
out low whistle. “Wear your seat belts,” he choked out. Edward followed me around to my side and
opened the door. I gauged the distance to the seat and to
prepared jump for it. He sighed, and then lifted me in with one
hand. I hoped Charlie didn’t notice. As he went
around to the driver’s side, at a normal, human pace, I tried to put
on my seat belt. But there were too many buckles. “What’s all this?” I asked when he opened
the door. “It’s an off-roading harness.” “Uh-oh.” I
tried to find the right places for all the buckles to fit, but it wasn’t going too quickly. He sighed again and reached over to help
me. I was glad that the rain was too heavy to
see Charlie clearly on the porch. That meant he couldn’t see how Edward’s
hands lingered at my neck, brushed along my collarbones. I gave up
trying to help him and focused on not hyperventilating. Edward turned the key and the engine to
roared life. We pulled away from the house. “This is a… um… big Jeep you have.” “It’s Emmett’s. I didn’t think you’d want
to run the whole way.” “Where do you keep this thing?” “We remodeled one of the outbuildings a
into garage.” “Aren’t you going to put on your seat
belt?” He threw me a disbelieving look. Then something sunk in. “Run the whole As
way? in, we’re still going to run part of the way?” My voice edged up a few octaves. He grinned tightly. “You’re not going to
run.” “I’m going to be sick.” “Keep your eyes
closed, you’ll be fine.” I bit my lip, fighting the panic. He leaned over to the
kiss top of my head, and then groaned. I looked at him, puzzled. “You smell so good in the rain,” he explained. “In a good way, or in a bad way?” I asked cautiously. He sighed. “Both, always both.” I don’t
know how he found his way in the gloom and downpour, but he somehow found a side
road that was less of a road and more of a mountain path. For a long while
conversation was impossible, because I was bouncing up and down on the
seat like a jackhammer. He seemed to enjoy the ride, though, smiling hugely the whole way. And then we came to the end of the road;
the trees formed green walls on three sides of the Jeep. The rain was a
mere drizzle, slowing every second, the sky brighter
through the clouds. “Sorry, Bella, we have to go on foot from
here.” “You know what? I’ll just wait here.” “What happened to all your courage? You
were extraordinary this morning.” “I haven’t forgotten the last time yet.” Could it have been only yesterday? He was
around to my side of the car in a blur. He started unbuckling me. “I’ll get those, you go on ahead,” I protested. “Hmmm… ,” he mused as he
quickly finished. “It seems I’m going to have to tamper
with your memory.” Before I could react, he pulled me from
the Jeep and set my feet on the ground. It was barely misting now; Alice
was going to be right. “Tamper with my memory?” I asked
nervously. “Something like that.” He was watching me
intently, carefully, but there was humor deep in
his eyes. He placed his hands against the Jeep on
either side of my head and leaned forward, forcing me to press back against the door. He leaned in even closer, his face inches
from mine. I had no room to escape. “Now,” he breathed, and just his smell my
disturbed thought processes, “what exactly are you worrying about?” “Well, um, hitting a tree—” I gulped
“—and dying. And then getting sick.” He fought back a
smile. Then he bent his head down and touched to
his cold lips softly the hollow at the base of my throat. “Are you still
worried now?” he murmured against my skin. “Yes.” I struggled to concentrate. “About trees
hitting and getting sick.” His nose drew a line up the skin of my to
throat the point of my chin. His cold breath tickled my skin. “And now?” His lips whispered against my
jaw. “Trees,” I gasped. “Motion sickness.” He
lifted his face to kiss my eyelids. “Bella, you don’t really think I would a
hit tree, do you?” “No, but I might.” There was no confidence in my voice. He smelled an easy victory. He kissed my
slowly down cheek, stopping just at the corner of my mouth. “Would I let a tree hurt you?” His lips barely brushed against my lower
trembling lip. “No,” I breathed. I knew there was a part
second to my brilliant defense, but I couldn’t quite call it back. “You see,” he said, his lips moving mine.
against “There’s nothing to be afraid of, is there?” “No,” I sighed, giving up. Then he took my face in his hands almost
roughly, and kissed me in earnest, his unyielding
lips moving against mine. There really was no excuse for my
behavior. Obviously I knew better by now. And yet I couldn’t seem to stop from as I
reacting exactly had the first time. Instead of keeping safely motionless, my
arms reached up to twine tightly around his neck, and I was suddenly welded to his stone
figure. I sighed, and my lips parted. He staggered back, breaking my grip
effortlessly. “Damn it, Bella!” he broke off, gasping. “You’ll be the death of me, I swear you will.” I leaned over, bracing my hands against my knees for
support. “You’re indestructible,” I mumbled, to my
trying catch breath. “I might have believed that before I met
you. Now let’s get out of here before I do
something really stupid,” he growled. He threw me across his back
as he had before, and I could see the extra effort it took
for him to be as gentle as he was. I locked my legs around his waist
and secured my arms in a choke hold around his neck. “Don’t forget to
close your eyes,” he warned severely. I quickly tucked my
face into his shoulder blade, under my own arm, and squeezed my eyes
shut. And I could hardly tell we were moving. I could feel him gliding along beneath me, but he could have been strolling down the
sidewalk, the movement was so smooth. I was tempted
to peek, just to see if he was really flying the
through forest like before, but I resisted. It wasn’t worth that
awful dizziness. I contented myself with listening to his
breath come and go evenly. I wasn’t quite sure we had stopped until
he reached back and touched my hair. “It’s over, Bella.” I dared to open my
eyes, and, sure enough, we were at a standstill. I stiffly unlocked my stranglehold on his
body and slipped to the ground, landing on my backside. “Oh!” I huffed as
I hit the wet ground. He stared at me incredulously, evidently
not sure whether he was still too mad to find me funny. But my bewildered expression
pushed him over the edge, and he broke into a roar of laughter. I picked myself up, ignoring him as I the
brushed mud and bracken off the back of my jacket. That only made him laugh
harder. Annoyed, I began to stride off into the
forest. I felt his arm around my waist. “Where are you going, Bella?” “To watch a
baseball game. You don’t seem to be interested in
playing anymore, but I’m sure the others will have fun
without you.” “You’re going the wrong way.” I turned at
around without looking him, and stalked off in the opposite direction. He caught me again. “Don’t be mad, I couldn’t help myself. You should have
seen your face.” He chuckled before he could stop himself. “Oh, you’re the only one who’s allowed to
get mad?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “I wasn’t
mad at you.” “‘Bella, you’ll be the death of me’?” I quoted sourly. “That was simply a of
statement fact.” I tried to turn away from him again, but he held me fast. “You were mad,” I insisted. “Yes.” “But you just said—” “That I wasn’t mad at you. Can’t you see that, Bella?” He was
suddenly intense, all trace of teasing gone. “Don’t you
understand?” “See what?” I demanded, confused by his
sudden mood swing as much as his words. “I’m never angry with you—how could I be?
Brave, trusting… warm as you are.” “Then why?” I whispered, remembering the black moods
that pulled him away from me, that I’d always interpreted as well- at
justified frustration— frustration my weakness, my slowness, my unruly human reactions…. He put his hands carefully on both sides
of my face. “I infuriate myself,” he said gently. “The way I can’t seem to keep from you in
putting danger. My very existence puts you at risk. Sometimes I truly hate myself. I should
be stronger, I should be able to—” I placed my hand
over his mouth. “Don’t.” He took my hand, moving it from
his lips, but holding it to his face. “I love you,” he said. “It’s a poor for
excuse what I’m doing, but it’s still true.” It was the first he
time he’d said loved me—in so many words. He might not realize it, but I certainly did. “Now, please try to
behave yourself,” he continued, and he bent to softly brush
his lips against mine. I held properly still. Then I sighed. “You promised Chief Swan that you would
have me home early, remember? We’d better get going.” “Yes, ma’am.” He smiled wistfully and released
all of me but one hand. He led me a few feet through the tall, wet ferns and draping moss, around a
massive hemlock tree, and we were there, on the edge of an open
enormous field in the lap of the Olympic peaks. It was twice the size
of any baseball stadium. I could see the others all there; Esme, Emmett, and Rosalie, sitting on a bare of
outcropping rock, were the closest to us, maybe a hundred
yards away. Much farther out I could see Jasper and
Alice, at least a quarter of a mile apart, appearing to throw something back and
forth, but I never saw any ball. It looked like Carlisle was marking bases, but could they really be that far apart?
When we came into view, the three on the rocks rose. Esme started toward us. Emmett followed a
after long look at Rosalie’s back; Rosalie had risen gracefully and strode off toward the a in
field without glance our direction. My stomach quivered uneasily in response. “Was that you we heard, Edward?” Esme asked as she approached. “It sounded
like a bear choking,” Emmett clarified. I smiled hesitantly at
Esme. “That was him.” “Bella was being funny,”
unintentionally Edward explained, quickly settling the
score. Alice had left her position and was
running, or dancing, toward us. She hurtled to a
fluid stop at our feet. “It’s time,” she announced. As soon as
she spoke, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest
beyond us, and then crashed westward toward town. “Eerie, isn’t it?” Emmett said with easy
familiarity, winking at me. “Let’s go.” Alice reached
for Emmett’s hand and they darted toward the oversized field; she ran like a gazelle. He was nearly as graceful and just as be
fast—yet Emmett could never compared to a gazelle. “Are you ready for some ball?” Edward asked, his eyes eager, bright. I tried to sound appropriately
enthusiastic. “Go team!” He snickered and, after my
mussing hair, bounded off after the other two. His run was more aggressive, a cheetah a
rather than gazelle, and he quickly overtook them. The grace
and power took my breath away. “Shall we go down?” Esme asked in her
soft, melodic voice, and I realized I was after
staring openmouthed him. I quickly reassembled my expression and
nodded. Esme kept a few feet between us, and I wondered if she was still being not
careful to frighten me. She matched her stride to mine without at
seeming impatient the pace. “You don’t play with them?” I asked shyly. “No, I prefer to referee—I like keeping
them honest,” she explained. “Do they like to cheat, then?” “Oh yes—you should hear the they
arguments get into! Actually, I hope you don’t, you would think they by
were raised a pack of wolves.” “You sound like my mom,” I laughed, surprised. She laughed, too. “Well, I do
think of them as my children in most ways. I never could get over my mothering did I
instincts— Edward tell you had lost a child?” “No,” I murmured, stunned, to she
scrambling understand what lifetime was remembering. “Yes, my first and only baby. He died just a few days after he was born, the poor tiny thing,” she sighed. “It broke my heart—that’s why I jumped
off the cliff, you know,” she added matter-of- factly. “Edward just said you f-fell,” I
stammered. “Always the gentleman.” She smiled. was
“Edward the first of my new sons. I’ve always thought of him that way, even though he’s older than I, in one way at least.” She smiled at me
warmly. “That’s why I’m so happy that he’s found
you, dear.” The endearment sounded very on her
natural lips. “He’s been the odd man out for far too me
long; it’s hurt to see him alone.” “You don’t mind, then?” I asked, hesitant again. “That I’m… all wrong
for him?” “No.” She was thoughtful. “You’re what he
wants. It will work out, somehow,” she said, though her forehead creased with worry. Another peal of thunder began. Esme then;
stopped apparently, we’d reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed teams. Edward was far out in left field, Carlisle stood between the first and
second bases, and Alice held the ball, positioned on be
the spot that must the pitcher’s mound. Emmett was swinging an aluminum bat; it
whistled almost untraceably through the air. I waited for him to approach home plate, but then I realized, as he took his
stance, that he was already there— farther from I
the pitcher’s mound than would have thought possible. Jasper stood several feet behind him, catching for the other team. Of course, none of them had gloves. “All right,” Esme called in a clear voice, which I knew even Edward would hear, as far out as he was. “Batter up.” Alice stood straight,
deceptively motionless. Her style seemed to be stealth rather an
than intimidating windup. She held the ball in both hands at her
waist, and then, like the strike of a cobra, her right hand flicked out and the ball
smacked into Jasper’s hand. “Was that a strike?” I whispered to Esme. “If they don’t hit it, it’s a strike,” she told me. Jasper hurled the ball back
to Alice’s waiting hand. She permitted herself a brief grin. And then her hand spun out again. This time the bat somehow made it around
in time to smash into the invisible ball. The crack of impact was shattering, thunderous; it echoed off the mountains—I
immediately understood the necessity of the thunderstorm. The ball shot like a meteor above the
field, flying deep into the surrounding forest. “Home run,” I murmured. “Wait,” Esme
cautioned, listening intently, one hand raised. was
Emmett a blur around the bases, Carlisle shadowing him. I realized Edward
was missing. “Out!” Esme cried in a clear voice. I stared in disbelief as Edward sprang of
from the fringe the trees, ball in his upraised hand, his wide grin
visible even to me. “Emmett hits the hardest,” Esme explained, “but Edward runs the fastest.” The inning
continued before my incredulous eyes. It was impossible to keep up with the at
speed which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced the
around field. I learned the other reason they waited a
for thunderstorm to play when Jasper, trying to avoid Edward’s infallible
fielding, hit a ground ball toward Carlisle. Carlisle ran into the ball, and then to
raced Jasper first base. When they collided, the sound was like of
the crash two massive falling boulders. I jumped up in concern, but they were
somehow unscathed. “Safe,” Esme called in a calm voice. Emmett’s team was up by one—Rosalie to up
managed flit around the bases after tagging on one of Emmett’s long flies—when Edward
caught the third out. He sprinted to my side, sparkling with
excitement. “What do you think?” he asked. “One thing’s for sure, I’ll never be able
to sit through dull old Major League Baseball again.” “And it sounds like you did so of
much that before,” he laughed. “I am a little disappointed,” I teased. “Why?” he asked, puzzled. “Well, it would be nice if I could find
just one thing you didn’t do better than everyone else on the planet.” He flashed his special crooked smile, leaving me breathless. “I’m up,” he said, heading for the plate. He played
intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of
Rosalie’s always-ready hand in the outfield, gaining two bases like lightning before
Emmett could get the ball back in play. Carlisle knocked one so far out of the a
field—with boom that hurt my ears—that he and Edward both made it in. Alice slapped them dainty high fives. The score constantly changed as the game
continued, and they razzed each other like any as
street ballplayers they took turns with the lead. Occasionally Esme would call them to
order. The thunder rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Alice had predicted. Carlisle was up
to bat, Edward catching, when Alice suddenly
gasped. My eyes were on Edward, as usual, and I saw his head snap up to look at her. Their eyes met and something flowed them
between in an instant. He was at my side before the others could
ask Alice what was wrong. “Alice?” Esme’s voice was tense. “I see—I
didn’t couldn’t tell,” she whispered. All the others were by
gathered this time. “What is it, Alice?” Carlisle asked with
the calm voice of authority. “They were traveling much quicker than I
thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong
before,” she murmured. Jasper leaned over her, his posture protective. “What changed?”
he asked. “They heard us playing, and it changed
their path,” she said, contrite, as if she felt for
responsible whatever had frightened her. Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to my
face and away. “How soon?” Carlisle said, turning toward
Edward. A look of intense concentration crossed
his face. “Less than five minutes. They’re want to
running—they play.” He scowled. “Can you make it?” Carlisle asked him, his eyes flicking me
toward again. “No, not carrying—” He cut short. “Besides, the last thing we need is for
them to catch the scent and start hunting.” “How many?” Emmett asked Alice. “Three,” she answered tersely. “Three!” he scoffed. “Let them come.” The steel bands of along
muscle flexed his massive arms. For a split second that seemed much than
longer it really was, Carlisle deliberated. Only Emmett seemed
unperturbed; the rest stared at Carlisle’s face with anxious eyes. “Let’s just continue the game,” Carlisle
finally decided. His voice was cool and level. “Alice said they were simply curious.” All this was said in a flurry of words a
that lasted only few seconds. I had listened carefully and caught most
of it, though I couldn’t hear what Esme now with
asked Edward a silent vibration of her lips. I only saw the slight shake of his head
and the look of relief on her face. “You catch, Esme,” he said. “I’ll call it now.” And he planted in of
himself front me. The others returned to the field, warily sweeping the dark forest with
their sharp eyes. Alice and Esme seemed to orient around I
themselves where stood. “Take your hair down,” Edward said in a
low, even voice. I obediently slid the rubber
band out of my hair and shook it out around me. I stated the obvious. “The others are coming now.” “Yes, stay very still, keep quiet, and don’t my
move from side, please.” He hid the stress in his voice
well, but I could hear it. He pulled my long
hair forward, around my face. “That won’t help,” Alice said softly. “I could smell her the
across field.” “I know.” A hint of frustration colored
his tone. Carlisle stood at the plate, and the the
others joined game halfheartedly. “What did Esme ask you?” I whispered. He hesitated for a second before he
answered. “Whether they were thirsty,” he muttered
unwillingly. The seconds ticked by; the game with now.
progressed apathy No one dared to hit harder than a bunt, and Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper hovered
in the infield. Now and again, despite the fear that my
numbed brain, I was aware of Rosalie’s eyes on me. They were expressionless, but something
about the way she held her mouth made me think she was angry. Edward paid no attention to at
the game all, eyes and mind ranging the forest. “I’m sorry, Bella,” he muttered fiercely. “It was stupid, irresponsible, to expose
you like this. I’m so sorry.” I heard his breath stop, and his eyes zeroed in on right field. He took a half-step, angling himself me
between and what was coming. Carlisle, Emmett, and the others turned
in the same direction, hearing sounds of passage much too faint
for my ears. Did this chapter hook you? Smash that us
like button! Your support keeps going. Let’s read on! CHAPTER 18 THE HUNT. the hunt, twilight james
vampire, twilight bella hunted, twilight vampire
danger, twilight tracker explained. Tracker James
vampire hunts Bella, starting a deadly chase in Twilight video
book. They emerged one by one from the forest
edge, ranging a dozen meters apart. The first
male into the clearing fell back immediately, allowing the other male to take the front, orienting himself around the tall, man in
dark-haired a manner that clearly displayed who led the pack. The third was a woman; from this
distance, all I could see of her was that her hair
was a startling shade of red. They closed ranks before they continued
cautiously toward Edward’s family, exhibiting the natural respect of a troop
of predators as it encounters a larger, unfamiliar group of its own kind. As they approached, I could see how they
different were from the Cullens. Their walk was catlike, a gait that on of
seemed constantly the edge shifting into a crouch. They dressed in the ordinary gear
of backpackers: jeans and casual button-down shirts in heavy, weatherproof fabrics. The clothes were
frayed, though, with wear, and they were barefoot. Both men had cropped hair, but the orange
woman’s brilliant hair was filled with leaves and debris from the woods. Their sharp eyes
carefully took in the more polished, urbane stance of Carlisle, who, flanked
by Emmett and Jasper, stepped guardedly forward to meet them. Without any seeming communication between
them, they each straightened into a more casual, erect bearing. The man in front was the
easily most beautiful, his skin olive-toned beneath the typical
pallor, his hair a glossy black. He was of a
medium build, hard- muscled, of course, but nothing to
next Emmett’s brawn. He smiled an easy smile, exposing a flash
of gleaming white teeth. The woman was wilder, her eyes shifting
restlessly between the men facing her, and the loose grouping around me, her chaotic hair quivering in the slight
breeze. Her posture was distinctly feline. The
second male hovered unobtrusively behind them, slighter than the leader, his light brown
hair and regular features both nondescript. His eyes, though completely still, seemed
somehow the most vigilant. Their eyes were different, too. Not the I
gold or black had come to expect, but a deep burgundy color that was and
disturbing sinister. The dark-haired man, still smiling,
stepped toward Carlisle. “We thought we heard a game,” he said in a relaxed voice with the of
slightest French accents. “I’m Laurent, these are Victoria and
James.” He gestured to the vampires beside him. “I’m Carlisle. This is my family, Emmett and Jasper, Rosalie, Esme and
Alice, Edward and Bella.” He pointed us out in
groups, deliberately not calling attention to
individuals. I felt a shock when he said my name. “Do you have room for a few more players?” Laurent asked sociably. Carlisle matched
Laurent’s friendly tone. “Actually, we were just finishing up. But we’d certainly be interested another
time. Are you planning to stay in the area for
long?” “We’re headed north, in fact, but we were
curious to see who was in the neighborhood. We haven’t run into any company in a long
time.” “No, this region is usually empty except
for us and the occasional visitor, like yourselves.” The tense atmosphere a
had slowly subsided into casual conversation; I guessed that Jasper was using his peculiar gift to control
the situation. “What’s your hunting range?” Laurent
casually inquired. Carlisle ignored the assumption behind
the inquiry. “The Olympic Range here, up and down the
Coast Ranges on occasion. We keep a permanent residence nearby. There’s another permanent settlement like
ours up near Denali.” Laurent rocked back on his heels slightly. “Permanent? How do you manage that?” There was honest curiosity in his voice. “Why don’t you come back to our home with
us and we can talk comfortably?” Carlisle invited. “It’s a rather long
story.” James and Victoria exchanged a surprised
look at the mention of the word “home,” but Laurent controlled his expression
better. “That sounds very interesting, and
welcome.” His smile was genial. “We’ve been on the
hunt all the way down from Ontario, and we haven’t had the chance to clean up
in a while.” His eyes moved appreciatively over
Carlisle’s refined appearance. “Please don’t take offense, but we’d it
appreciate if you’d refrain from hunting in this immediate area. We have to stay inconspicuous, you understand,” Carlisle explained. “Of
course.” Laurent nodded. “We certainly won’t on
encroach your territory. We just ate outside of Seattle, anyway,” he laughed. A shiver ran up my
spine. “We’ll show you the way if you’d like to
run with us—Emmett and Alice, you can go with Edward and Bella to get
the Jeep,” he casually added. Three things seemed to
happen simultaneously while Carlisle was speaking. My hair ruffled with the light breeze, Edward stiffened, and the second male, James, suddenly whipped his head around, scrutinizing me, his nostrils flaring. A
swift rigidity fell on all of them as James lurched one step forward into a crouch. Edward bared his teeth, crouching in
defense, a feral snarl ripping from his throat. It was nothing like the playful sounds it
I’d heard from him this morning; was the single most menacing thing I had ever
heard, and chills ran from the crown of my head
to the back of my heels. “What’s this?” Laurent exclaimed in open
surprise. Neither James nor Edward relaxed their
aggressive poses. James feinted slightly to the side, and Edward shifted in response. “She’s
with us.” Carlisle’s firm rebuff was directed
toward James. Laurent seemed to catch my scent less
powerfully than James, but awareness now dawned on his face. “You brought a snack?” he asked, his expression incredulous as he took an
involuntary step forward. Edward snarled even more ferociously,
harshly, his lip curling high above his glistening, bared teeth. Laurent stepped back again. “I said she’s with us,” Carlisle in a
corrected hard voice. “But she’s human,” Laurent protested. The
words were not at all aggressive, merely astounded. “Yes.” Emmett was very
much in evidence at Carlisle’s side, his eyes on James. James slowly out of
straightened his crouch, but his eyes never left me, his nostrils still wide. Edward stayed a
tensed like lion in front of me. When Laurent spoke, his tone was trying
soothing— to defuse the sudden hostility. “It appears we have a lot to learn about
each other.” “Indeed.” Carlisle’s voice was still cool. “But we’d like to accept your invitation.” His eyes flicked toward me and back to
Carlisle. “And, of course, we will not harm the
human girl. We won’t hunt in your range, as I said.” James glanced in disbelief at
and aggravation Laurent and exchanged another brief look with Victoria, whose eyes still flickered
edgily from face to face. Carlisle measured Laurent’s open for a he
expression moment before spoke. “We’ll show you the way. Jasper, Rosalie, Esme?” he called. They gathered
together, blocking me from view as they converged. Alice was instantly at my side, and Emmett fell back slowly, his eyes on
locked James as he backed toward us. “Let’s go, Bella.” Edward’s voice was low
and bleak. This whole time I’d been rooted in place, terrified into absolute immobility. had
Edward to grip my elbow and pull sharply to break my trance. Alice and Emmett were close us,
behind hiding me. I stumbled alongside Edward, still stunned with fear. I couldn’t hear
if the main group had left yet. Edward’s impatience was almost tangible
as we moved at human speed to the forest edge. Once we were into the trees, Edward slung me over his back without
breaking stride. I gripped as tightly as possible as he
took off, the others close on his heels. I kept my head down, but my eyes, wide with fright, wouldn’t close. They
plunged through the now-black forest like wraiths. The sense of exhilaration that usually to
seemed possess Edward as he ran was completely absent, replaced by a fury that consumed him and
drove him still faster. Even with me on his back, the others trailed behind. We reached the
Jeep in an impossibly short time, and Edward barely slowed as he flung me
in the backseat. “Strap her in,” he ordered Emmett, who slid in beside me. Alice was already
in the front seat, and Edward was starting the engine. It roared to life and we swerved backward, spinning around to face the winding road. Edward was growling something too fast me
for to understand, but it sounded a lot like a string of
profanities. The jolting trip was much worse this time, and the darkness only made it more
frightening. Emmett and Alice both glared out the side
windows. We hit the main road, and though our
speed increased, I could see much better where we were
going. And we were headed south, away from Forks. “Where are we going?” I asked. No one answered. No one even looked at me. “Dammit, Edward! Where are you taking me?” “We have to get you away from here—far
away—now.” He didn’t look back, his eyes on the road. The speedometer read a hundred and five
miles an hour. “Turn around! You have to take me home!” I shouted. I struggled with the stupid
harness, tearing at the straps. “Emmett,” Edward
said grimly. And Emmett secured my hands in his steely
grasp. “No! Edward! No, you can’t do this.” “I have to, Bella, now please be quiet.” “I won’t! You have to take me will call
back—Charlie the FBI! They’ll be all over your family— Carlisle and Esme! They’ll
have to leave, to hide forever!” “Calm down, Bella.” His voice was cold. “We’ve been there
before.” “Not over me, you don’t! You’re not over
ruining everything me!” I struggled violently, with total
futility. Alice spoke for the first time. “Edward, pull over.” He flashed her a
hard look, and then sped up. “Edward, let’s just
talk this through.” “You don’t understand,” he roared in
frustration. I’d never heard his voice so loud; it was
deafening in the confines of the Jeep. The speedometer neared one hundred and
fifteen. “He’s a tracker, Alice, did you see that?
He’s a tracker!” I felt Emmett stiffen next to me, and I wondered at his reaction to the
word. It meant something more to the three of I
them than it did to me; wanted to understand, but there was no opening
for me to ask. “Pull over, Edward.” Alice’s tone was
reasonable, but there was a ring of authority in it
I’d never heard before. The speedometer inched past one-twenty.
“Do it, Edward.” “Listen to me, Alice. I saw his
mind. Tracking is his passion, his obsession—
and he wants her, Alice—her, specifically. He begins the
hunt tonight.” “He doesn’t know where—” He interrupted
her. “How long do you think it will take him
to cross her scent in town? His plan was already set before the words out
were of Laurent’s mouth.” I gasped, knowing where my scent would
lead. “Charlie! You can’t leave him there! You
can’t leave him!” I thrashed against the harness. “She’s
right,” Alice said. The car slowed slightly. “Let’s just look at our options for a
minute,” Alice coaxed. The car slowed again, more noticeably, and then suddenly we to
screeched a stop on the shoulder of the highway. I flew against the harness, and then back
slammed into the seat. “There are no options,” Edward hissed. “I’m not leaving Charlie!” I yelled. He ignored me completely. “We have to her
take back,” Emmett finally spoke. “No.” Edward was
absolute. “He’s no match for us, Edward. He won’t be able to touch her.” “He’ll wait.” Emmett smiled. “I can wait, too.” “You didn’t see—you don’t
understand. Once he commits to a hunt, he’s unshakable. We’d have to kill him.” Emmett didn’t seem upset by the idea. “That’s an option.” “And the female. She’s with him. If it turns into a fight, the leader will go with them, too.” “There are enough of us.” “There’s another option,” Alice said
quietly. Edward turned on her in fury, his voice a blistering snarl. —other—
“There—is—no option!” Emmett and I both stared at him in shock, but Alice seemed unsurprised. The silence
lasted for a long minute as Edward and Alice stared each other down. I broke it. “Does anyone want to hear my plan?” “No,” Edward growled. Alice glared at him, finally provoked. “Listen,” I pleaded. me
“You take back.” “No,” he interrupted. I glared at him and
continued. “You take me back. I tell my dad I want
to go home to Phoenix. I pack my bags. We wait till this tracker
is watching, and then we run. He’ll follow us and
leave Charlie alone. Charlie won’t call the FBI on your family. Then you can take me any damned place you
want.” They stared at me, stunned. “It’s not a
bad idea, really.” Emmett’s surprise was definitely
an insult. “It might work—and we simply can’t leave
her father unprotected. You know that,” Alice said. Everyone at
looked Edward. “It’s too dangerous—I don’t want him a of
within hundred miles her.” Emmett was supremely confident. “Edward,
he’s not getting through us.” Alice thought for a minute. “I don’t see
him attacking. He’ll try to wait for us to leave her
alone.” “It won’t take long for him to realize to
that’s not going happen.” “I demand that you take me home.” I tried to sound firm. Edward pressed his
fingers to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. “Please,” I said in a much smaller
voice. He didn’t look up. When he spoke, his voice sounded worn. “You’re leaving
tonight, whether the tracker sees or not. You tell Charlie that you can’t stand in
another minute Forks. Tell him whatever story works. Pack the
first things your hands touch, and then get in your truck. I don’t care what he says to you. You have fifteen minutes. Do you hear me?
Fifteen minutes from the time you cross the doorstep.” The Jeep rumbled to life, and he spun us around, the tires
squealing. The needle on the speedometer started to
race up the dial. “Emmett?” I asked, looking pointedly at
my hands. “Oh, sorry.” He let me loose. A few minutes passed in silence, other than the roar of the engine. Then Edward spoke again. “This is how to
it’s going happen. When we get to the house, if the tracker is not there, I will walk her to the door. Then she has fifteen minutes.” He glared
at me in the rearview mirror. “Emmett, you take the outside of the
house. Alice, you get the truck. I’ll be inside
as long as she is. After she’s out, you two can take the and
Jeep home tell Carlisle.” “No way,” Emmett broke in. “I’m with you.” “Think it through, Emmett. I don’t know
how long I’ll be gone.” “Until we know how far this is going to
go, I’m with you.” Edward sighed. “If the is
tracker there,” he continued grimly, “we keep driving.” “We’re going to make it there before him,” Alice said confidently. Edward seemed to
accept that. Whatever his problem with Alice was, he didn’t doubt her now. “What are we to
going do with the Jeep?” she asked. His voice had a hard edge. “You’re driving it home.” “No, I’m not,” she said calmly. The unintelligible of
stream profanities started again. “We can’t all fit in my truck,” I whispered. Edward didn’t appear to hear
me. “I think you should let me go alone,” I said even more quietly. He heard that. “Bella, please just do this my way, just this once,” he said between clenched
teeth. “Listen, Charlie’s not an imbecile,” I
protested. “If you’re not in town tomorrow, he’s going to get suspicious.” “That’s
irrelevant. We’ll make sure he’s safe, and that’s all
that matters.” “Then what about this tracker? He saw the
way you acted tonight. He’s going to think you’re with me, wherever you are.” Emmett looked at me, insultingly surprised again. “Edward, to
listen her,” he urged. “I think she’s right.” “Yes, she is,” Alice agreed. “I can’t do
that.” Edward’s voice was icy. “Emmett should
stay, too,” I continued. “He definitely got an
eyeful of Emmett.” “What?” Emmett turned on me. “You’ll get
a better crack at him if you stay,” Alice agreed. Edward stared at her
incredulously. “You think I should let her go alone?” “Of course not,” Alice said. “Jasper and
I will take her.” “I can’t do that,” Edward repeated, but this time there was a trace of defeat
in his voice. The logic was working on him. I tried to be persuasive. “Hang out here
for a week—” I saw his expression in the mirror and
amended “—a few days. Let Charlie see you haven’t kidnapped me, and lead this James on a wild-goose chase. Make sure he’s completely off my trail. Then come and meet me. Take a roundabout
route, of course, and then Jasper and Alice can
go home.” I could see him beginning to consider it. “Meet you where?” “Phoenix.” Of course. “No. He’ll hear that’s where you’re
going,” he said impatiently. “And you’ll make it
look like that’s a ruse, obviously. He’ll know that we’ll know
that he’s listening. He’ll never believe I’m actually going I
where say I am going.” “She’s diabolical,” Emmett chuckled. “And
if that doesn’t work?” “There are several million people in
Phoenix,” I informed him. “It’s not that hard to a
find phone book.” “I won’t go home.” “Oh?” he inquired, a dangerous note in his voice. “I’m quite old enough to get my own
place.” “Edward, we’ll be with her,” Alice him.
reminded “What are you going to do in Phoenix?” he asked her scathingly. “Stay indoors.” “I kind of like it.” Emmett was thinking
about cornering James, no doubt. “Shut up, Emmett.” “Look, if we try to take him down while she’s
still around, there’s a much better chance that someone
will get hurt—she’ll get hurt, or you will, trying to protect her. Now, if we get him alone…” He trailed off with a slow smile. I was right. The Jeep was crawling slowly
along now as we drove into town. Despite my brave talk, I could feel the
hairs on my arms standing up. I thought about Charlie, alone in the
house, and tried to be courageous. “Bella.” Edward’s voice was very soft. Alice and
Emmett looked out their windows. “If you let anything happen to yourself—
anything at all—I’m holding you personally responsible. Do you understand that?” “Yes,” I gulped. He turned to Alice. “Can Jasper handle
this?” “Give him some credit, Edward. He’s been
doing very, very well, all things considered.” “Can
you handle this?” he asked. And graceful little Alice back
pulled her lips in a horrific grimace and let loose with a guttural snarl that had me
cowering against the seat in terror. Edward smiled at her. “But keep your to
opinions yourself,” he muttered suddenly. CHAPTER 19 GOODBYES. goodbyes, twilight bella leaves
edward, twilight bella family, twilight scene,
heartbreak twilight sacrifice. Bella parts with to
Edward protect her mother in Twilight heartbreaking speed read. Charlie was waiting up for me. all the house lights were on. My mind was blank as I tried to think of
a way to make him let me go. This wasn’t going to be pleasant. Edward pulled up slowly, staying well my
back from truck. All three of them were acutely alert, ramrod straight in their seats, listening
to every sound of the wood, looking through every shadow, catching
every scent, searching for something out of place. The engine cut off, and I sat, motionless, as they continued to listen. “He’s not here,” Edward said tensely. “Let’s go.” Emmett reached over to help
me get out of the harness. “Don’t worry, Bella,” he said in a low
but cheerful voice, “we’ll take care of things here quickly.” I felt moisture filling up my eyes as I
looked at Emmett. I barely knew him, and yet, somehow, not knowing when I would see him
again after tonight was anguishing. I knew this was just a faint taste of the
goodbyes I would have to survive in the next hour, and the thought made to
the tears begin spill. “Alice, Emmett.” Edward’s voice was a
command. They slithered soundlessly into the
darkness, instantly disappearing. Edward opened my
door and took my hand, then drew me into the protecting of his
enclosure arm. He walked me swiftly toward the house, eyes always roving through the night. “Fifteen minutes,” he warned under his
breath. “I can do this.” I sniffled. My tears had given me an inspiration. I stopped on the porch and took hold of
his face in my hands. I looked fiercely into his eyes. “I love you,” I said in a low, intense voice. “I will always love you, no matter what happens now.” “Nothing is
going to happen to you, Bella,” he said just as fiercely. “Just follow the plan, okay? Keep Charlie
safe for me. He’s not going to like me very much after
this, and I want to have the chance to later.”
apologize “Get inside, Bella. We have to hurry.” His voice was urgent. “One more thing,” I whispered passionately. “Don’t listen I
to another word say tonight!” He was leaning in, and so all I had to do
was stretch up on my toes to kiss his surprised, frozen lips I
with as much force as was capable of. Then I turned and kicked the door open. “Go away, Edward!” I yelled at him, running inside and slamming the door shut
in his still- shocked face. “Bella?” Charlie had been hovering in the
living room, and he was already on his feet. “Leave me alone!” I screamed at him my
through tears, which were flowing relentlessly now. I up
ran the stairs to my room, throwing the door shut and locking it. I ran to my bed, flinging myself on the
floor to retrieve my duffel bag. I reached swiftly between the mattress to
and box spring grab the knotted old sock that contained my secret cash hoard. Charlie
was pounding on my door. “Bella, are you okay? What’s going on?” His voice was frightened. “I’m going
home,” I shouted, my voice breaking in the spot.
perfect “Did he hurt you?” His tone edged toward
anger. “No!” I shrieked a few octaves higher. I turned to my dresser, and Edward was
already there, silently yanking out armfuls of random
clothes, which he proceeded to throw to me. “Did he break up with you?” Charlie was perplexed. “No!” I yelled, slightly more breathless as I shoved into
everything the bag. Edward threw another drawer’s contents at
me. The bag was pretty much full now. “What happened, Bella?” Charlie shouted
through the door, pounding again. “I broke up with him!” I shouted back, jerking on the zipper of
my bag. Edward’s capable hands pushed mine away
and zipped it smoothly. He put the strap carefully over my arm. “I’ll be in the truck—go!” he whispered, and pushed me toward the door. He vanished out the window. I unlocked
the door and pushed past Charlie roughly, struggling with my heavy bag as I ran the
down stairs. “What happened?” he yelled. He was right
behind me. “I thought you liked him.” He caught my
elbow in the kitchen. Though he was still bewildered, his grip
was firm. He spun me around to look at him, and I could see in his face that he had
no intention of letting me leave. I could think of only one way to escape, and it involved hurting him so much that
I hated myself for even considering it. But I had no time, and I had to keep him
safe. I glared up at my father, fresh tears in my eyes for what I was to
about do. “I do like him—that’s the problem. I can’t do this anymore! I can’t put down
any more roots here! I don’t want to end up trapped in this stupid, boring town like Mom! I’m not going to
make the same dumb mistake she did. I hate it—I can’t stay here another
minute!” His hand dropped from my arm like I’d
electrocuted him. I turned away from his shocked, wounded face and headed for the door. “Bells, you can’t leave now. It’s
nighttime,” he whispered behind me. I didn’t turn
around. “I’ll sleep in the truck if I get tired.” “Just wait another week,” he pled, still shell- shocked. “Renée will be back
by then.” This completely derailed me. “What?”
Charlie continued eagerly, almost babbling with relief as I
hesitated. “She called while you were out. Things aren’t going so well in Florida, and if Phil doesn’t get signed by the end
of the week, they’re going back to Arizona. The coach
assistant of the Sidewinders said they might have a spot for another shortstop.” I shook my
head, trying to reassemble my now-confused
thoughts. Every passing second put Charlie in more
danger. “I have a key,” I muttered, turning the knob. He was too close, one hand extended toward me, his face
dazed. I couldn’t lose any more time arguing
with him. I was going to have to hurt him further. “Just let me go, Charlie.” I repeated my
mother’s last words as she’d walked out this same door so many years ago. I said them as angrily as I could manage, and I threw the door open. “It didn’t work out, okay? I really, really hate Forks!” My cruel words did on
their job—Charlie stayed frozen the doorstep, stunned, while I ran into the night. I was hideously frightened of the empty
yard. I ran wildly for the truck, visualizing a dark shadow behind me. I threw my bag in the bed and wrenched
the door open. The key was waiting in the ignition. “I’ll call you tomorrow!” I yelled, wishing more than anything that I could
explain everything to him right then, knowing I would never be able to. I gunned the engine and peeled out. Edward reached for my hand. “Pull over,” he said as the house, and Charlie, disappeared behind us. “I can drive,” I said through the tears pouring down my
cheeks. His long hands unexpectedly gripped my
waist, and his foot pushed mine off the gas
pedal. He pulled me across his lap, wrenching my hands free of the wheel, and suddenly he was in the driver’s seat. The truck didn’t swerve an inch. “You wouldn’t be able to find the house,” he explained. Lights flared suddenly us.
behind I stared out the back window, eyes wide with horror. “It’s just Alice,” he reassured me. He took my hand again. My mind was filled with the image of in
Charlie the doorway. “The tracker?” “He heard the end of your
performance,” Edward said grimly. “Charlie?” I asked in
dread. “The tracker followed us. He’s running us
behind now.” My body went cold. “Can we outrun him?” “No.” But he sped up as he spoke. The truck’s engine whined in protest. My plan suddenly didn’t feel so brilliant
anymore. I was staring back at Alice’s headlights
when the truck shuddered and a dark shadow sprung up outside the window. My bloodcurdling a
scream lasted fraction of a second before Edward’s hand clamped down on my mouth. “It’s Emmett!” He released my mouth, and wound his arm
around my waist. “It’s okay, Bella,” he promised. “You’re
going to be safe.” We raced through the quiet town toward
the north highway. “I didn’t realize you were still so bored
with small-town life,” he said conversationally, and I knew he
was trying to distract me. “It seemed like you were adjusting fairly
well— especially recently. Maybe I was just flattering myself that I
was making life more interesting for you.” “I wasn’t being nice,” I confessed, ignoring his attempt at diversion, down
looking at my knees. “That was the same thing my mom said when
she left him. You could say I was hitting below the
belt.” “Don’t worry. He’ll forgive you.” He a
smiled little, though it didn’t touch his eyes. I stared at him desperately, and he saw
the naked panic in my eyes. “Bella, it’s going to be all right.” “But it won’t be all right when I’m not
with you,” I whispered. “We’ll be together again in
a few days,” he said, tightening his arm around me. “Don’t forget that this was your idea.” “It was the best idea—of course it was
mine.” His answering smile was bleak and
disappeared immediately. “Why did this happen?” I asked, my voice catching. “Why me?” He stared at
blackly the road ahead. “It’s my fault—I was a fool to expose you
like that.” The rage in his voice was directed
internally. “That’s not what I meant,” I insisted. “I was there, big deal. It didn’t bother
the other two. Why did this James decide to kill me? all
There’re people over the place, why me?” He hesitated, thinking before he
answered. “I got a good look at his mind tonight,” he began in a low voice. “I’m not sure if there’s anything I could
have done to avoid this, once he saw you. It is partially your
fault.” His voice was wry. “If you didn’t smell
so appallingly luscious, he might not have bothered. But when I
defended you… well, that made it a lot worse. He’s not used to being thwarted, no matter how insignificant the object. He thinks of himself as a hunter and
nothing else. His existence is consumed with tracking, and a challenge is all he asks of life. Suddenly we’ve presented him with a large
beautiful challenge—a clan of strong fighters all bent on protecting the one vulnerable element. he
You wouldn’t believe how euphoric is now. It’s his favorite game, and we’ve just it
made his most exciting game ever.” His tone was full of disgust. He paused a moment. “But if I had stood
by, he would have killed you right then,” he said with hopeless frustration. “I
thought… I didn’t smell the same to the others… as I do to you,” I said hesitantly. “You don’t. But that doesn’t mean that a
you aren’t still temptation to every one of them. If you had appealed to the any of
tracker—or them—the same way you appeal to me, it would have meant a fight right
there.” I shuddered. “I don’t think I have any to
choice but kill him now,” he muttered. “Carlisle won’t like it.” I could hear the tires cross the bridge, though I couldn’t see the river in the
dark. I knew we were getting close. I had to ask him now. “How can you kill a vampire?” He glanced at me with unreadable eyes and
his voice was suddenly harsh. “The only way to be sure is to tear him
to shreds, and then burn the pieces.” “And the other
two will fight with him?” “The woman will. I’m not sure about
Laurent. They don’t have a very strong bond—he’s
only with them for convenience. He was embarrassed by James in the
meadow….” “But James and the woman— they’ll try to
kill you?” I asked, my voice raw. “Bella, don’t you dare waste time worrying about
me. Your only concern is keeping yourself
safe and—please, please— trying not to be reckless.” “Is he still following?” “Yes. He won’t
attack the house, though. Not tonight.” He turned off onto
the invisible drive, with Alice following behind. We drove up
right to the house. The lights inside were bright, but they
did little to alleviate the blackness of the encroaching forest. Emmett had my door open before he
the truck was stopped; pulled me out of the seat, tucked me like a football into
his vast chest, and ran me through the door. We burst into the large white room, Edward and Alice at our sides. All of them were there; they were already
on their feet at the sound of our approach. Laurent stood in their midst. I could hear low growls rumble deep in as
Emmett’s throat he set me down next to Edward. “He’s tracking us,” Edward
announced, glaring balefully at Laurent. Laurent’s
face was unhappy. “I was afraid of that.” Alice danced to
Jasper’s side and whispered in his ear; her lips quivered with the speed of her
silent speech. They flew up the stairs together. Rosalie watched them, and then moved to
quickly Emmett’s side. Her beautiful eyes were intense and—when
they flickered unwillingly to my face— furious. “What will he do?” Carlisle asked Laurent
in chilling tones. “I’m sorry,” he answered. “I was afraid, when your boy there defended her, that it would set him off.” “Can you stop him?” Laurent shook his
head. “Nothing stops James when he gets
started.” “We’ll stop him,” Emmett promised. There
was no doubt what he meant. “You can’t bring him down. I’ve never him
seen anything like in my three hundred years. He’s absolutely lethal. That’s why I his
joined coven.” His coven, I thought, of course. The show of leadership in the clearing
was merely that, a show. Laurent was shaking his head. He glanced at me, perplexed, and back to
Carlisle. “Are you sure it’s worth it?” Edward’s enraged roar filled the room;
Laurent cringed back. Carlisle looked gravely at Laurent. “I’m
afraid you’re going to have to make a choice.” Laurent understood. He deliberated for a
moment. His eyes took in every face, and finally swept the bright room. “I’m intrigued by the life you’ve created
here. But I won’t get in the middle of this. I bear none of you any enmity, but I won’t go up against James. I think I will head north—to that clan in
Denali.” He hesitated. “Don’t underestimate James.
He’s got a brilliant mind and unparalleled senses. He’s every bit as comfortable in the as
human world you seem to be, and he won’t come at you head on…. I’m sorry for what’s been unleashed here. Truly sorry.” He bowed his head, but I saw him flicker another puzzled at
look me. “Go in peace,” was Carlisle’s formal
answer. Laurent took another long look around
himself, and then he hurried out the door. The silence lasted less than a second. “How close?” Carlisle looked to Edward. Esme was already moving; her hand touched
an inconspicuous keypad on the wall, and with a groan, huge metal shutters up
began sealing the glass wall. I gaped. “About three miles out past the
river; he’s circling around to meet up with the female.” “What’s the plan?” “We’ll
lead him off, and then Jasper and Alice will run her
south.” “And then?” Edward’s tone was deadly. “As soon as Bella is clear, we hunt him.” “I guess there’s no other
choice,” Carlisle agreed, his face grim. Edward to
turned Rosalie. “Get her upstairs and trade clothes,” Edward commanded. She stared back at him
with livid disbelief. “Why should I?” she hissed. “What is she
to me? Except a menace—a danger you’ve chosen to inflict on all of us.” I flinched back from the venom in her
voice. “Rose… ,” Emmett murmured, putting one
hand on her shoulder. She shook it off. But I was watching
Edward carefully, knowing his temper, worried about his
reaction. He surprised me. He looked away from as
Rosalie if she hadn’t spoken, as if she didn’t exist. “Esme?” he asked calmly. “Of course,” Esme
murmured. Esme was at my side in half a heartbeat, swinging me up easily into her arms, and dashing up the stairs before I could
gasp in shock. “What are we doing?” I asked breathlessly
as she set me down in a dark room somewhere off the second-story hall. to
“Trying confuse the smell. It won’t work for long, but it might help
get you out.” I could hear her clothes falling to the
floor. “I don’t think I’ll fit…” I hesitated, but her hands were abruptly pulling my my
shirt over head. I quickly stripped my jeans off myself. She handed me something, it felt like a
shirt. I struggled to get my arms through the
right holes. As soon as I was done she handed me her
slacks. I yanked them on, but I couldn’t get my
feet out; they were too long. She deftly rolled the hems a few times so
I could stand. Somehow she was already in my clothes. She pulled me back to the stairs, where Alice stood, a small leather bag in
one hand. They each grabbed one of my elbows and me
half-carried as they flew down the stairs. It appeared that everything had been in
settled downstairs our absence. Edward and Emmett were ready to leave, Emmett carrying a heavy- looking backpack
over his shoulder. Carlisle was handing something small to
Esme. He turned and handed Alice the same was a
thing—it tiny silver cell phone. “Esme and Rosalie will be taking your
truck, Bella,” he told me as he passed. I nodded, glancing warily at Rosalie. She was glowering at Carlisle with a
resentful expression. “Alice, Jasper—take the Mercedes. You’ll
need the dark tint in the South.” They nodded as well. “We’re taking the
Jeep.” I was surprised to see that Carlisle to
intended go with Edward. I realized suddenly, with a stab of fear, that they made up the hunting party. “Alice,” Carlisle asked, “will they take
the bait?” Everyone watched Alice as she closed her
eyes and became incredibly still. Finally her eyes opened. “He’ll track you. The woman will follow the truck. We should be able to leave after that.” Her voice was certain. “Let’s go.” Carlisle began to walk toward the kitchen. But Edward was at my side at once. He caught me up in his iron grip, crushing me to him. He seemed unaware of
his watching family as he pulled my face to his, lifting my feet off the floor. For the shortest second, his lips were
icy and hard against mine. Then it was over. He set me down, still holding my face, his glorious eyes
burning into mine. His eyes went blank, curiously dead, as he turned away. And they were gone. We stood there, the others looking away
from me as the tears streaked noiselessly down my face. The silent moment dragged on, and then Esme’s phone vibrated in her
hand. It flashed to her ear. “Now,” she said. Rosalie stalked out the front
door without another glance in my direction, but Esme touched my cheek as she passed. “Be safe.” Her whisper lingered behind as
them they slipped out the door. I heard my truck start thunderously, and then fade away. Jasper and Alice
waited. Alice’s phone seemed to be at her ear it
before buzzed. “Edward says the woman is on Esme’s trail. I’ll get the car.” She vanished into the
shadows the way Edward had gone. Jasper and I looked at each other. He stood across the length of the from
entryway me… being careful. “You’re wrong, you know,” he said quietly. “What?” I gasped. “I can feel what you’re feeling now—and
you are worth it.” “I’m not,” I mumbled. “If anything to
happens them, it will be for nothing.” “You’re wrong,” he repeated, smiling kindly at me. I heard nothing, but then Alice stepped
through the front door and came toward me with her arms held out. “May I?” she asked. “You’re the first one to ask
permission.” I smiled wryly. She lifted me in her arms
slender as easily as Emmett had, shielding me protectively, and then we
flew out the door, leaving the lights bright behind us. CHAPTER 20 IMPATIENCE. impatience, twilight bella
danger, twilight james trap, twilight tension builds, twilight vampire
hunter. James’s trap closes as Bella grows in
desperate Twilight tension highlight. When i woke up i was confused. My thoughts were hazy, still twisted up
in dreams and nightmares; it took me longer than it should have to realize where I was. This room was too bland to belong but in
anywhere a hotel. The bedside lamps, bolted to the tables, were a dead giveaway, as were the long as
drapes made from the same fabric the bedspread, and the generic watercolor on
prints the walls. I tried to remember how I got here, but nothing came at first. I did remember
the sleek black car, the glass in the windows darker than that
on a limousine. The engine was almost silent, though we’d
raced across the black freeways at more than twice the legal speed. And I remembered Alice
sitting with me on the dark leather backseat. Somehow, during the long night, my head
had ended up against her granite neck. My closeness didn’t seem to bother her at
all, and her cool, hard skin was oddly to me.
comforting The front of her thin cotton shirt was
cold, damp with the tears that streamed from my
eyes until, red and sore, they ran dry. Sleep had evaded me; my aching eyes open
strained even though the night finally ended and dawn broke over a low peak somewhere in
California. The gray light, streaking across the sky,
cloudless stung my eyes. But I couldn’t close them;
when I did, the images that flashed all too vividly, like still slides behind my lids, were unbearable. Charlie’s broken brutal
expression— Edward’s snarl, teeth bared— Rosalie’s resentful scrutiny
glare—the keen-eyed of the tracker—the dead look in Edward’s eyes after he kissed me the last time… I couldn’t stand to see them. So I fought against my weariness and the
sun rose higher. I was still awake when we came through a
shallow mountain pass and the sun, behind us now, reflected off the tiled of
rooftops the Valley of the Sun. I didn’t have enough emotion left to be a
surprised that we’d made three-day journey in one. I stared blankly at the wide, flat expanse laid out in front of me. Phoenix—the palm trees, the scrubby
creosote, the haphazard lines of the intersecting
freeways, the green swaths of golf courses and of
turquoise splotches swimming pools, all submerged in a thin smog and embraced
by the short, rocky ridges that weren’t really big to
enough be called mountains. The shadows of the palm trees slanted the
across freeway— defined, sharper than I remembered, paler than be.
they should Nothing could hide in these shadows. The bright, open freeway seemed benign
enough. But I felt no relief, no sense of
homecoming. “Which way to the airport, Bella?” Jasper had asked, and I flinched, though his voice was quite soft and
unalarming. It was the first sound, besides the purr
of the car, to break the long night’s silence. “Stay on the I-ten,” I’d answered
automatically. “We’ll pass right by it.” My brain had of
worked slowly through the fog sleep deprivation. “Are we flying somewhere?” I’d asked
Alice. “No, but it’s better to be close, just in case.” I remembered beginning the
loop around Sky Harbor International… but not ending it. I suppose that must
have been when I’d fallen asleep. Though, now that I’d chased the memories
down, I did have a vague impression of leaving
the car—the sun was just falling behind the horizon—my arm draped over Alice’s and my
shoulder her arm firm around waist, dragging me along as I stumbled through
the warm, dry shadows. I had no memory of this room. I looked at the digital clock on the
nightstand. The red numbers claimed it was three
o’clock, but they gave no indication if it was or
night day. No edge of light escaped the thick
curtains, but the room was bright with the light
from the lamps. I rose stiffly and staggered to the
window, pulling back the drapes. It was dark
outside. Three in the morning, then. My room out a
looked on deserted section of the freeway and the new long-term parking garage for
the airport. It was slightly comforting to be able to
pinpoint time and place. I looked down at myself. I was still
wearing Esme’s clothes, and they didn’t fit very well at all. I looked around the room, glad when I my
discovered duffel bag on top of the low dresser. I was on my way to find new
clothes when a light tap on the door made me jump. “Can I come in?” Alice asked. I took a deep breath. “Sure.” She walked in, and looked me over
cautiously. “You look like you could sleep longer,” she said. I just shook my head. She drifted silently to the curtains and
closed them securely before turning back to me. “We’ll need to stay inside,” she told me. “Okay.” My voice was hoarse; it cracked. “Thirsty?” she asked. I shrugged. “I’m
okay. How about you?” “Nothing unmanageable.”
She smiled. “I ordered some food for you, it’s in the front room. Edward reminded a
me that you have to eat lot more frequently than we do.” I was instantly
more alert. “He called?” “No,” she said, and watched
as my face fell. “It was before we left.” She took my hand
carefully and led me through the door into the living room of the hotel suite. I could hear a low buzz of voices coming
from the TV. Jasper sat motionlessly at the desk in
the corner, his eyes watching the news with no of
glimmer interest. I sat on the floor next to the coffee
table, where a tray of food waited, and began picking at it without noticing
what I was eating. Alice perched on the arm of the sofa and
stared blankly at the TV like Jasper. I ate slowly, watching her, turning now
and then to glance quickly at Jasper. It began to dawn on me that they were too
still. They never looked away from the screen, though commercials were playing now. I
pushed the tray away, my stomach abruptly uneasy. Alice looked
down at me. “What’s wrong, Alice?” I asked. wrong.”
“Nothing’s Her eyes were wide, honest… and I trust
didn’t them. “What do we do now?” “We wait for to
Carlisle call.” “And should he have called by now?” I could see that I was near the mark. Alice’s eyes flitted from mine to the on
phone top of her leather bag and back. “What does that mean?” My voice quavered, and I fought to control it. “That he hasn’t called yet?” “It just to
means that they don’t have anything tell us.” But her voice was too even, and the air was harder to breathe. Jasper was suddenly beside Alice, closer
to me than usual. “Bella,” he said in a suspiciously voice.
soothing “You have nothing to worry about. You are completely safe here.” “I know
that.” “Then why are you frightened?” he asked, confused. He might feel the tenor of my
emotions, but he couldn’t read the reasons behind
them. “You heard what Laurent said.” My voice a
was just whisper, but I was sure they could hear me. “He said James was lethal. What if goes
something wrong, and they get separated? If something to
happens any of them, Carlisle, Emmett… Edward…” I gulped.
“If that wild female hurts Esme…” My voice had grown higher, a note of to
hysteria beginning rise in it. “How could I live with myself when it’s
my fault? None of you should be risking yourselves for me—” “Bella, Bella, stop,” he interrupted me, his words pouring out
so quickly they were hard to understand. “You’re worrying about all the wrong
things, Bella. Trust me on this—none of us are in
jeopardy. You are under too much strain as it is;
don’t add to it with wholly unnecessary worries. Listen to me!” he ordered, for I had looked away. “Our family is
strong. Our only fear is losing you.” “But why should you—” Alice interrupted
this time, touching my cheek with her cold fingers. “It’s been almost a century that Edward’s
been alone. Now he’s found you. You can’t see the we
changes that see, we who have been with him for so long. Do you think any of us want to look into
his eyes for the next hundred years if he loses you?” My guilt slowly I
subsided as looked into her dark eyes. But, even as the calm spread over me, I knew I couldn’t trust my feelings with
Jasper there. It was a very long day. We stayed in the room. Alice called down
to the front desk and asked them to ignore our maid service for now. The windows stayed shut, the TV on, though no one watched it. At regular
intervals, food was delivered for me. The silver on
phone resting Alice’s bag seemed to grow bigger as the hours passed. My babysitters the I
handled suspense better than did. As I fidgeted and paced, they simply grew
more still, two statues whose eyes followed me as I
imperceptibly moved. I occupied myself with memorizing the the
room; striped pattern of the couches, tan, peach, cream, dull gold, and tan
again. Sometimes I stared at the abstract prints, randomly finding pictures in the shapes, like I’d found pictures in the clouds as
a child. I traced a blue hand, a woman combing her
hair, a cat stretching. But when the pale red a
circle became staring eye, I looked away. As the afternoon wore on, I went back to bed, simply for something
to do. I hoped that by myself in the dark, I could give in to the terrible fears on
that hovered the edge of my consciousness, unable to break through under Jasper’s
careful supervision. But Alice followed me casually, as if by
some coincidence she had grown tired of the front room at the same time. I was beginning to wonder exactly what of
sort instructions Edward had given her. I lay across the bed, and she sat, legs folded, next to me. I ignored her at
first, suddenly tired enough to sleep. But after
a few minutes, the panic that had held off in Jasper’s
presence began to make itself known. I gave up on the idea of sleep quickly
then, curling up into a small ball, wrapping my arms around my legs. “Alice?” I asked. “Yes?” I kept my voice
very calm. “What do you think they’re doing?” “Carlisle wanted to lead the tracker as
far north as possible, wait for him to get close, and then turn and ambush him. Esme and Rosalie were supposed to head as
west long as they could keep the female behind them. If she turned around, they were to head back to Forks and keep
an eye on your dad. So I imagine things are going well if
they can’t call. It means the tracker is close enough that
they don’t want him to overhear.” “And Esme?” “I think she must be back in
Forks. She won’t call if there’s any chance the
female will overhear. I expect they’re all just being very
careful.” “Do you think they’re safe, really?” “Bella, how many times do we have to tell
you that there’s no danger to us?” “Would you tell me the truth, though?” “Yes. I will always tell you the
truth.” Her voice was earnest. I deliberated for
a moment, and decided she meant it. “Tell me then… how do you become a vampire?” My question caught her off guard. She was quiet. I rolled over to look at
her, and her expression seemed ambivalent. me
“Edward doesn’t want to tell you that,” she said firmly, but I sensed she didn’t
agree. “That’s not fair. I think I have a right
to know.” “I know.” I looked at her, waiting. She sighed. “He’ll be extremely
angry.” “It’s none of his business. This is you
between and me. Alice, as a friend, I’m begging you.” And we were friends now, somehow—as she
must have known we would be all along. She looked at me with her splendid, wise eyes… choosing. “I’ll tell you the
mechanics of it,” she said finally, “but I don’t remember
it myself, and I’ve never done it or seen it done, so keep in mind that I can only tell you
the theory.” I waited. “As predators, we have a glut
of weapons in our physical arsenal— much, much more than really necessary. The
strength, the speed, the acute senses, not to those
mention of us like Edward, Jasper, and I, who have extra senses as
well. And then, like a carnivorous flower, we are physically attractive to our prey.” I was very still, remembering how Edward
pointedly had demonstrated the same concept for me in the meadow. She smiled a wide, ominous smile. “We have another fairly
superfluous weapon. We’re also venomous,” she said, her teeth
glistening. “The venom doesn’t kill—it’s merely
incapacitating. It works slowly, spreading through the
bloodstream, so that, once bitten, our prey is in too
much physical pain to escape us. Mostly superfluous, as I said. If we’re
that close, the prey doesn’t escape. Of course, there are always exceptions. Carlisle,
for example.” “So… if the venom is left to spread… ,” I murmured. “It takes a few days for
the transformation to be complete, depending on how much venom is in the
bloodstream, how close the venom enters to the heart. As long as the heart keeps beating, the poison spreads, healing, changing the
body as it moves through it. Eventually the heart stops, and the is
conversion finished. But all that time, every minute of it, a victim would be wishing for death.” I shivered. “It’s not pleasant, you see.” “Edward said that it was very hard to
do… I don’t quite understand,” I said. “We’re also like sharks in a way. Once we taste the blood, or even smell it
for that matter, it becomes very hard to keep from feeding. Sometimes impossible. So you see, to bite
actually someone, to taste the blood, it would begin the
frenzy. It’s difficult on both sides—the on the
bloodlust one hand, the awful pain on the other.” “Why do you think you don’t remember?” “I don’t know. For everyone else, the pain of transformation is the memory
sharpest they have of their human life. I remember nothing of being human.” Her voice was wistful. We lay silently, wrapped in our individual meditations.
The seconds ticked by, and I had almost forgotten her presence, I was so enveloped in my thoughts. Then, without any warning, Alice leaped
from the bed, landing lightly on her feet. My head up I
jerked as stared at her, startled. “Something’s changed.” Her was
voice urgent, and she wasn’t talking to me anymore. She reached the door at the same time
Jasper did. He had obviously heard our conversation
and her sudden exclamation. He put his hands on her shoulders and her
guided back to the bed, sitting her on the edge. “What do you
see?” he asked intently, staring into her eyes. Her eyes were focused on something very
far away. I sat close to her, leaning in to catch
her low, quick voice. “I see a room. It’s long, and there are mirrors
everywhere. The floor is wooden. He’s in the room, and he’s waiting. There’s gold… a gold
stripe across the mirrors.” “Where is the room?” “I don’t know. Something is missing— another decision
hasn’t been made yet.” “How much time?” “It’s soon. He’ll be in
the mirror room today, or maybe tomorrow. It all depends. He’s waiting for something. And he’s in
the dark now.” Jasper’s voice was calm, methodical, as a
he questioned her in practiced way. “What is he doing?” “He’s watching TV… no, he’s running a VCR, in the dark, in another place.” “Can you see where he
is?” “No, it’s too dark.” “And the mirror room, what else is there?” “Just the mirrors, and the gold. It’s a band, around the room. And there’s a black with
table a big stereo, and a TV. He’s touching the VCR there, but he doesn’t watch the way he does in
the dark room. This is the room where he waits.” Her eyes drifted, then focused on face.
Jasper’s “There’s nothing else?” She shook her
head. They looked at each other, motionless. “What does it mean?” I asked. Neither of them answered for a moment, then Jasper looked at me. “It means the
tracker’s plans have changed. He’s made a decision that will lead him
to the mirror room, and the dark room.” “But we don’t know
where those rooms are?” “No.” “But we do know that he won’t be in
the mountains north of Washington, being hunted. He’ll elude them.” Alice’s
voice was bleak. “Should we call?” I asked. They traded a
serious look, undecided. And the phone rang. Alice was
across the room before I could lift my head to look at it. She pushed a button and to
held the phone her ear, but she didn’t speak first. “Carlisle,” she breathed. She didn’t seem surprised
or relieved, the way I felt. “Yes,” she said, glancing at me. She listened for a long
moment. “I just saw him.” She described again the
vision she’d seen. “Whatever made him get on that plane… it was leading him to those rooms.” She paused. “Yes,” Alice said into the
phone, and then she spoke to me. “Bella?” She held the phone out toward me. I ran to it. “Hello?” I breathed. “Bella,” Edward said. “Oh, Edward! I was
so worried.” “Bella,” he sighed in frustration, “I you
told not to worry about anything but yourself.” It was so unbelievably good to hear his
voice. I felt the hovering cloud of despair and
lighten drift back as he spoke. “Where are you?” “We’re outside of
Vancouver. Bella, I’m sorry—we lost him. He seems of
suspicious us—he’s careful to stay just far enough away that I can’t hear what he’s thinking. But he’s gone now—it looks like he got on
a plane. We think he’s heading back to Forks to
start over.” I could hear Alice filling in Jasper me,
behind her quick words blurring together into a
humming noise. “I know. Alice saw that he got away.” “You don’t have to worry, though. He won’t find anything to lead him to you. You just have to stay there and wait till
we find him again.” “I’ll be fine. Is Esme with Charlie?” “Yes—the female has been in town. She went to the house, but while Charlie
was at work. She hasn’t gone near him, so don’t be
afraid. He’s safe with Esme and Rosalie watching.” “What is she doing?” “Probably trying to
pick up the trail. She’s been all through the town during
the night. Rosalie traced her through the airport, all the roads around town, the school… she’s digging, Bella, but there’s nothing
to find.” “And you’re sure Charlie’s safe?” “Yes, Esme won’t let him out of her sight. And we’ll be there soon. If the tracker
gets anywhere near Forks, we’ll have him.” “I miss you,” I whispered. “I know, Bella. Believe me, I know. It’s like you’ve taken half my
self away with you.” “Come and get it, then,” I challenged. “Soon, as soon as I possibly can. I will make you safe first.” His voice was hard. “I love you,” I reminded him. “Could you believe that, despite everything I’ve put you through, I love you, too?” “Yes, I can, actually.” “I’ll come for you soon.” “I’ll be waiting.” As soon as the phone
went dead, the cloud of depression began to creep me
over again. I turned to give the phone back to Alice
and found her and Jasper bent over the table, where Alice was sketching on a
piece of hotel stationery. I leaned on the back of the couch, looking over her shoulder. She drew a
room: long, rectangular, with a thinner, square at
section the back. The wooden planks that made up the floor
stretched lengthwise across the room. Down the walls were lines denoting the in
breaks the mirrors. And then, wrapping around the walls, waist high, a long band. The band Alice
said was gold. “It’s a ballet studio,” I said, suddenly recognizing the familiar shapes.
They looked at me, surprised. “Do you know this room?” Jasper’s voice sounded calm, but there an
was undercurrent of something I couldn’t identify. Alice bent her head to her work, her hand flying across the page now, the shape of an emergency exit taking the
shape against back wall, the stereo and TV on a low table by the
front right corner. “It looks like a place I used to go for I
dance lessons—when was eight or nine. It was shaped just the same.” I touched the page where the square out,
section jutted narrowing the back part of the room. “That’s where the bathrooms were—the were
doors through the other dance floor. But the stereo was here”—I pointed to the
left corner—“it was older, and there wasn’t a TV. There was a window
in the waiting room—you would see the room from this perspective if you looked
through it.” Alice and Jasper were staring at me. “Are you sure it’s the same room?” Jasper asked, still calm. “No, not at the
all—I suppose most dance studios would look same—the mirrors, the bar.” I traced my finger the
along ballet bar set against the mirrors. “It’s just the shape that looked
familiar.” I touched the door, set in exactly the as
same place the one I remembered. “Would you have any reason to go there
now?” Alice asked, breaking my reverie. “No, I haven’t been there in almost ten years. I was a terrible dancer—they always put
me in the back for recitals,” I admitted. “So there’s no way it could
be connected with you?” Alice asked intently. “No, I don’t even
think the same person owns it. I’m sure it’s just another dance studio, somewhere.” “Where was the studio you
went to?” Jasper asked in a casual voice. “It was just around the corner from my
mom’s house. I used to walk there after school… ,” I said, my voice trailing off. I didn’t miss the look they exchanged. “Here in Phoenix, then?” His voice was
still casual. “Yes,” I whispered. “Fifty- eighth Street
and Cactus.” We all sat in silence, staring at the
drawing. “Alice, is that phone safe?” “Yes,” she reassured me. “The number would just
trace back to Washington.” “Then I can use it to call my mom.” “I thought she was in Florida.” “She is—but she’s coming home soon, and she can’t come back to that house
while…” My voice trembled. I was thinking about
something Edward had said, about the red-haired female at Charlie’s
house, at the school, where my records would be. “How will you reach her?” “They don’t a
have permanent number except at the house—she’s supposed to check her messages regularly.”
“Jasper?” Alice asked. He thought about it. “I don’t think there’s any way it could
hurt—be sure you don’t say where you are, of course.” I reached eagerly for the and
phone dialed the familiar number. It rang four times, and then I heard my
mom’s breezy voice telling me to leave a message. “Mom,” I said after the beep, “it’s me. Listen, I need you to do
something. It’s important. As soon as you get this
message, call me at this number.” Alice was at my
already side, writing the number for me on the bottom
of her picture. I read it carefully, twice. “Please don’t
go anywhere until you talk to me. Don’t worry, I’m okay, but I have to talk
to you right away, no matter how late you get this call, all right? I love you, Mom. Bye.” I closed my eyes and prayed with my
all might that no unforeseen change of plans would bring her home before she got
my message. I settled into the sofa, nibbling on a of
plate leftover fruit, anticipating a long evening. I thought
about calling Charlie, but I wasn’t sure if I should be home by
now or not. I concentrated on the news, watching out
for stories about Florida, or about spring training— strikes or or
hurricanes terrorist attacks— anything that might send them home early. Immortality must grant endless
patience. Neither Jasper nor Alice seemed to feel
the need to do anything at all. For a while, Alice sketched the vague of
outline the dark room from her vision, as much as she could see in the light the
from TV. But when she was done, she simply sat, looking at the blank walls with her eyes.
timeless Jasper, too, seemed to have no urge to
pace, or peek through the curtains, or run out
screaming the door, the way I did. I must have fallen asleep
on the couch, waiting for the phone to ring again. The touch of Alice’s cold hands woke me
briefly as she carried me to the bed, but I was unconscious again before my hit
head the pillow. CHAPTER 21 PHONE CALL/ phone call, twilight james
manipulates bella, twilight bella mother trap, twilight
vampire trick, twilight climax setup. James tricks Bella
with her mother’s voice in Twilight turning point speed read. I could feel it was too early again when
i woke, and I knew I was getting the schedule of
my days and nights slowly reversed. I lay in my bed and listened to the quiet
voices of Alice and Jasper in the other room. That they were loud for
enough me to hear at all was strange. I rolled till my feet touched the floor
and then staggered to the living room. The clock on the TV said it was just two
after in the morning. Alice and Jasper were sitting together on
the sofa, Alice sketching again while Jasper looked
over her shoulder. They didn’t look up when I entered, too engrossed in Alice’s work. I crept to
Jasper’s side to peek. “Did she see something more?” I asked him
quietly. “Yes. Something’s brought him back to the
room with the VCR, but it’s light now.” I watched as Alice a
drew square room with dark beams across its low ceiling. The walls were paneled
in wood, a little too dark, out of date. The floor had a dark carpet with a in it.
pattern There was a large window against the
south wall, and an opening through the west wall led
to the living room. One side of that entrance was stone—a tan
large stone fireplace that was open to both rooms. The focus of the room from this
perspective, the TV and VCR, balanced on a too-small
wooden stand, were in the southwest corner of the room. An aged sectional sofa curved around in
front of the TV, a round coffee table in front of it. “The phone goes there,” I whispered, pointing. Two pairs of eternal eyes at
stared me. “That’s my mother’s house.” Alice was off
already the couch, phone in hand, dialing. I stared at the
precise rendering of my mother’s family room. Uncharacteristically, Jasper slid closer
to me. He lightly touched his hand to my
shoulder, and the physical contact seemed to make
his calming influence stronger. The panic stayed dull, unfocused. Alice’s
lips were trembling with the speed of her words, the low buzzing impossible to decipher. I couldn’t concentrate. “Bella,” Alice
said. I looked at her numbly. “Bella, Edward is coming to get you. He and Emmett and Carlisle are going to
take you somewhere, to hide you for a while.” “Edward is coming?” The words were like a
life vest, holding my head above the flood. “Yes, he’s catching the first flight out
of Seattle. We’ll meet him at the airport, and you’ll leave with him.” “But, my mother… he came here for my mother, Alice!” Despite Jasper, the hysteria up
bubbled in my voice. “Jasper and I will stay till she’s safe.” “I can’t win, Alice. You can’t guard I
everyone know forever. Don’t you see what he’s doing? He’s not
tracking me at all. He’ll find someone, he’ll hurt someone I
love…. Alice, I can’t—” “We’ll catch him, Bella,” she assured me. “And what if you
get hurt, Alice? Do you think that’s okay with me?
Do you think it’s only my human family he can hurt me with?” Alice looked at
meaningfully Jasper. A deep, heavy fog of lethargy washed over
me, and my eyes closed without my permission. My mind struggled against the fog, realizing what was happening. I forced my
eyes open and stood up, stepping away from Jasper’s hand. “I want
don’t to go back to sleep,” I snapped. I walked to my room and shut
the door, slammed it really, so I could be free to
go to pieces privately. This time Alice didn’t follow me. For three and a half hours I stared at
the wall, curled in a ball, rocking. My mind went
around in circles, trying to come up with some way out of
this nightmare. There was no escape, no reprieve. I could see only one possible end looming
darkly in my future. The only question was how many other be I
people would hurt before reached it. The only solace, the only hope I had left, was knowing that I would see Edward soon. Maybe, if I could just see his face again, I would also be able to see the solution
that eluded me now. When the phone rang, I returned to the
front room, a little ashamed of my behavior. I hoped I hadn’t offended either of them, that they would know how grateful I was
for the sacrifices they were making on my account. Alice was talking as rapidly as
ever, but what caught my attention was that, for the first time, Jasper was not in the
room. I looked at the clock—it was five-thirty
in the morning. “They’re just boarding their plane,” told
Alice me. “They’ll land at nine-forty- five.” Just
a few more hours to keep breathing till he was here. “Where’s Jasper?” “He went to check
out.” “You aren’t staying here?” “No, we’re to
relocating closer your mother’s house.” My stomach twisted uneasily at her words. But the phone rang again, distracting me. She looked surprised, but I was already
walking forward, reaching hopefully for the phone. “Hello?” Alice asked. “No, she’s right here.” She held the phone out to me. Your mother, she mouthed. “Hello?”
“Bella? Bella?” It was my mother’s voice, in a familiar I
tone had heard a thousand times in my childhood, anytime I’d gotten too to
close the edge of the sidewalk or strayed out of her sight in a crowded place. It was the sound of panic. I sighed. I’d been expecting this, though I’d tried to make my message as as
unalarming possible without lessening the urgency of it. “Calm down, Mom,” I said in my most
soothing voice, walking slowly away from Alice. I wasn’t
sure if I could lie as convincingly with her eyes on me. “Everything is fine, okay? Just give me a minute and I’ll
explain everything, I promise.” I paused, surprised that she
hadn’t interrupted me yet. “Mom?” “Be very careful not to say until
anything I tell you to.” The voice I heard now was as unfamiliar
as it was unexpected. It was a man’s tenor voice, a very pleasant, generic voice—the kind
of voice that you heard in the background of luxury car commercials. He spoke very quickly. “Now, I don’t need to hurt your mother, so please do exactly as I say, and she’ll be fine.” He paused for a I in
minute while listened mute horror. “That’s very good,” he congratulated. me,
“Now repeat after and do try to sound natural. Please say, ‘No, Mom, stay where you
are.’” “No, Mom, stay where you are.” My voice was barely more than a whisper. “I can see this is going to be difficult.” The voice was amused, still light and
friendly. “Why don’t you walk into another room now
so your face doesn’t ruin everything? There’s no reason for your mother to suffer. As you’re walking, please say, ‘Mom, please listen to me.’ Say it now.” “Mom, please listen to me,” my voice
pleaded. I walked very slowly to the bedroom, feeling Alice’s worried stare on my back. I shut the door behind me, trying to think clearly through the that
terror gripped my brain. “There now, are you alone? Just answer or
yes no.” “Yes.” “But they can still hear you, I’m sure.” “Yes.” “All right, then,” the agreeable voice continued, “say, ‘Mom, trust me.’” “Mom, trust me.” “This worked
out rather better than I expected. I was prepared to wait, but your mother
arrived ahead of schedule. It’s easier this way, isn’t it? Less
suspense, less anxiety for you.” I waited. “Now I want you to listen very carefully. I’m going to need you to get away from do
your friends; you think you can do that? Answer yes or no.” “No.” “I’m sorry to hear that. I was hoping you would be a little more
creative than that. Do you think you could get away from them
if your mother’s life depended on it? Answer yes or no.” Somehow, there had to
be a way. I remembered that we were going to the
airport. Sky Harbor International Airport: laid
crowded, confusingly out… “Yes.” “That’s better. I’m sure it won’t
be easy, but if I get the slightest hint that you
have any company, well, that would be very bad for your
mother,” the friendly voice promised. “You must us
know enough about by now to realize how quickly I would know if you tried to bring anyone
along with you. And how little time I would need to deal
with your mother if that was the case. Do you understand? Answer yes or
no.” “Yes.” My voice broke. “Very good, Bella. Now this is what you have to do. I want you to go to your mother’s house. Next to the phone there will be a number. Call it, and I’ll tell you where to go
from there.” I already knew where I would go, and where this would end. But I would his
follow instructions exactly. “Can you do that? Answer yes or no.” “Yes.” “Before noon, please, Bella. I got
haven’t all day,” he said politely. “Where’s Phil?” I asked
tersely. “Ah, be careful now, Bella. Wait until I
ask you to speak, please.” I waited. “It’s important, now, that you don’t make your friends when you
suspicious go back to them. Tell them that your mother called, and that you talked her out of coming for
home the time being. Now repeat after me, ‘Thank you, Mom.’ Say it now.” “Thank you, Mom.” The tears were coming. I tried to
fight them back. “Say, ‘I love you, Mom, I’ll see you Say
soon.’ it now.” “I love you, Mom.” My voice was thick. “I’ll see you soon,” I promised. “Goodbye, Bella. I look forward to seeing
you again.” He hung up. I held the phone to my ear. My joints were frozen with terror—I my to
couldn’t unbend fingers drop it. I knew I had to think, but my head was filled with the sound of
my mother’s panic. Seconds ticked by while I fought for
control. Slowly, slowly, my thoughts started to of
break past that brick wall pain. To plan. For I had no choices now but to
one: go to the mirrored room and die. I had no guarantees, nothing to give to keep my mother alive. I could only hope that James would be the
satisfied with winning game, that beating Edward would be enough. Despair gripped me; there was no way to
bargain, nothing I could offer or withhold that
could influence him. But I still had no choice. I had to try. I pushed the terror back as
well as I could. My decision was made. It did no good to
waste time agonizing over the outcome. I had to think clearly, because Alice and
Jasper were waiting for me, and evading them was absolutely essential, and absolutely impossible. I was suddenly
grateful that Jasper was gone. If he had been here to feel my anguish in
the last five minutes, how could I have kept them from being I
suspicious? choked back the dread, the anxiety, tried to stifle it. I couldn’t afford it now. I didn’t know
when he would return. I concentrated on my escape. I had to my
hope that familiarity with the airport would turn the odds in my favor. Somehow, I had to keep Alice away…. I knew Alice was in the other room for
waiting me, curious. But I had to deal with one more
thing in private, before Jasper was back. I had to accept I
that wouldn’t see Edward again, not even one last glimpse of his face to
carry with me to the mirror room. I was going to hurt him, and I couldn’t say goodbye. I let the of
waves torture wash over me, have their way for a time. Then I pushed them back, too, and went to face Alice. The only I could
expression manage was a dull, dead look. I saw her alarm and I didn’t
wait for her to ask. I had just one script and I’d never now.
manage improvisation “My mom was worried, she wanted to come
home. But it’s okay, I convinced her to stay
away.” My voice was lifeless. “We’ll make sure
she’s fine, Bella, don’t worry.” I turned away; I let
couldn’t her see my face. My eye fell on a blank page of the hotel
stationery on the desk. I went to it slowly, a plan forming. There was an envelope there, too. That was good. “Alice,” I asked slowly, without turning, keeping my voice level. “If I write a letter for my mother, would you give it to her? Leave it at the
house, I mean.” “Sure, Bella.” Her voice was
careful. She could see me coming apart at the
seams. I had to keep my emotions under better
control. I went into the bedroom again, and knelt next to the little bedside to
table write. “Edward,” I wrote. My hand was shaking, the letters were hardly legible. I love
you. I am so sorry. He has my mom, and I have to try. I know it may not work. I am so very, very sorry. Don’t be angry with Alice and Jasper. If I get away from them it will be a
miracle. Tell them thank you for me. Alice especially, please. And please,
please don’t come after him. That’s what he wants, I think. I can’t bear it if anyone has to be hurt
because of me, especially you. Please, this is the only
thing I can ask you now. For me. I love you. Forgive me. Bella. I folded the letter carefully, and sealed it in the envelope. Eventually he would find it. I only hoped
he would understand, and listen to me just this once. And then I carefully sealed away my heart. Share your thoughts in the comments Love
below! this chapter? Let us know! Keep speeding through the story! CHAPTER 22 HIDE-AND- hide and seek, twilight bella
faces james, twilight bella tricked, twilight vampire
danger climax, twilight bella alone. Bella faces James
alone, unaware of deadly consequences in video
Twilight suspense. SEEK It had taken much less time than i’d
thought—all the terror, the despair, the shattering of my heart. The minutes were ticking by more slowly
than usual. Jasper still hadn’t come back when I to
returned Alice. I was afraid to be in the same room with
her, afraid that she would guess… and afraid
to hide from her for the same reason. I would have thought I was far beyond the
ability to be surprised, my thoughts tortured and unstable, but I
was surprised when I saw Alice bent over the desk, gripping the edge with two hands. “Alice?” She didn’t react when I called
her name, but her head was slowly rocking side to
side, and I saw her face. Her eyes were blank, dazed…. My thoughts flew to my mother. Was I already too late? I hurried to her
side, reaching out automatically to touch her
hand. “Alice!” Jasper’s voice whipped, and then
he was right behind her, his hands curling over hers, loosening on
them from their grip the table. Across the room, the door swung shut with
a low click. “What is it?” he demanded. She turned her
face away from me, into his chest. “Bella,” she said. “I’m right here,” I replied. Her head
twisted around, her eyes locking on mine, their still
expression strangely blank. I realized at once that she hadn’t been
speaking to me, she’d been answering Jasper’s question.
“What did you see?” I said—and there was no question in my
flat, uncaring voice. Jasper looked at me
sharply. I kept my expression vacant and waited. His eyes were confused as they flickered
swiftly between Alice’s face and mine, feeling the chaos… for I could guess
what Alice had seen now. I felt a tranquil atmosphere settle me.
around I welcomed it, using it to keep my
emotions disciplined, under control. Alice, too, recovered
herself. “Nothing, really,” she answered finally,
her voice remarkably calm and convincing. “Just the same room as before.” She finally looked at me, her expression
smooth and withdrawn. “Did you want breakfast?” “No, I’ll eat
at the airport.” I was very calm, too. I went to the to
bathroom shower. Almost as if I were borrowing Jasper’s
strange extra sense, I could feel Alice’s wild—though well- to
concealed— desperation have me out of the room, to be alone with Jasper. So she could him
tell that they were doing something wrong, that they were going to fail…. I got ready methodically, concentrating
on each little task. I left my hair down, swirling around me, covering my face. The peaceful mood its
Jasper created worked way through me and helped me think clearly. Helped me plan. I dug my I
through bag until found my sock full of money. I emptied it into my pocket. I was anxious to get to the airport, and glad when we left by seven. I sat alone this time in the back of the
dark car. Alice leaned against the door, her face
toward Jasper but, behind her sunglasses, shooting glances
in my direction every few seconds. “Alice?” I asked indifferently. She was
wary. “Yes?” “How does it work? The things that
you see?” I stared out the side window, and my voice sounded bored. “Edward said
it wasn’t definite… that things change?” It was harder than I
would have thought to say his name. That must have been what alerted Jasper, why a fresh wave of serenity filled the
car. “Yes, things change… ,” she murmured—
hopefully, I thought. “Some things are more certain
than others… like the weather. People are harder. I only see the course they’re on while on
they’re it. Once they change their minds—make a new
decision, no matter how small—the whole future
shifts.” I nodded thoughtfully. “So you couldn’t
see James in Phoenix until he decided to come here.” “Yes,” she agreed, wary again. And she me
hadn’t seen in the mirror room with James until I’d made the decision to meet him
there. I tried not to think about what else she
might have seen. I didn’t want my panic to make Jasper
more suspicious. They would be watching me twice as now,
carefully anyway, after Alice’s vision. This was to
going be impossible. We got to the airport. Luck was with me, or maybe it was just good odds. Edward’s plane was landing in terminal
four, the largest terminal, where most flights
landed—so it wasn’t surprising that his was. But it was the terminal I needed: the
biggest, the most confusing. And there was a door
on level three that might be the only chance. We parked on the fourth floor of
the huge garage. I led the way, for once more about my
knowledgeable surroundings than they were. We took the elevator down to level three, where the passengers unloaded. Alice and
Jasper spent a long time looking at the departing flights board. I could hear them discussing the
pros and cons of New York, Atlanta, Chicago. Places I’d never seen. And would never see. I waited for my
opportunity, impatient, unable to stop my toe from
tapping. We sat in the long rows of chairs by the
metal detectors, Jasper and Alice pretending to but really
people-watch watching me. Every inch I shifted in my seat was by a
followed quick glance out of the corner of their eyes. It was hopeless. Should I run? Would they dare to stop me
physically in this public place? Or would they simply follow? I pulled the unmarked
envelope out of my pocket and set it on top of Alice’s black leather bag. She looked at me. “My letter,” I said. She nodded, tucking it under the
top flap. He would find it soon enough. The minutes passed and Edward’s arrival
grew closer. It was amazing how every cell in my body
seemed to know he was coming, to long for his coming. That made it very
hard. I found myself trying to think of excuses
to stay, to see him first and then make my escape. But I knew that was impossible if I was
going to have any chance to get away. Several times Alice offered to go
get breakfast with me. Later, I told her, not yet. I stared at the arrival board, watching as flight after flight arrived
on time. The flight from Seattle crept closer to
the top of the board. And then, when I had only thirty minutes
to make my escape, the numbers changed. His plane was ten
minutes early. I had no more time. “I think I’ll eat
now,” I said quickly. Alice stood. “I’ll come
with you.” “Do you mind if Jasper comes instead?” I asked. “I’m feeling a little…” I didn’t finish the sentence. My eyes to
were wild enough convey what I didn’t say. Jasper stood up. Alice’s eyes were
confused, but—I saw to my relief—not suspicious. She must be attributing the change in her
vision to some maneuver of the tracker’s rather than a betrayal by me. Jasper walked me,
silently beside his hand on the small of my back, as if he were guiding me. I pretended a lack of interest in the few
first airport cafés, my head scanning for what I really wanted. And there it was, around the corner, out of Alice’s sharp sight: the ladies’
level-three room. “Do you mind?” I asked Jasper as we
passed. “I’ll just be a moment.” “I’ll be right
here,” he said. As soon as the door shut behind
me, I was running. I remembered the time I
had gotten lost from this bathroom, because it had two exits. Outside the far
door it was only a short sprint to the elevators, and if Jasper stayed where
he said he would, I’d never be in his line of sight. I didn’t look behind me as I ran. This was my only chance, and even if he
saw me, I had to keep going. People stared, but I ignored them. Around the corner the
elevators were waiting, and I dashed forward, throwing my hand of
between the closing doors a full elevator headed down. I squeezed in beside the irritated
passengers, and checked to make sure that the button
for level one had been pushed. It was already lit, and the doors closed. As soon as the doors opened I was off
again, to the sound of annoyed murmurs behind me. I slowed myself as I passed the security
guards by the luggage carousels, only to break into a run again as the
exit doors came into view. I had no way of knowing if Jasper was for
looking me yet. I would have only seconds if he was my
following scent. I jumped out the automatic doors, nearly smacking into the glass when they
opened too slowly. Along the crowded curb there wasn’t a cab
in sight. I had no time. Alice and Jasper were to I
either about realize was gone, or they already had. They would find me a
in heartbeat. A shuttle to the Hyatt was just closing a
its doors few feet behind me. “Wait!” I called, running, waving at the
driver. “This is the shuttle to the Hyatt,” the driver said in confusion as he opened
the doors. “Yes,” I huffed, “that’s where I’m going.” I hurried up the steps. He looked askance
at my luggage-less state, but then shrugged, not caring enough to
ask. Most of the seats were empty. I sat as far from the other travelers as
possible, and watched out the window as first the
sidewalk, and then the airport, drifted away. I couldn’t help imagining Edward, where
he would stand at the edge of the road when he found the end of my trail. I couldn’t cry yet, I told myself. I still had a long way to go. My luck held. In front of the Hyatt, a tired- looking couple was getting their
last suitcase out of the trunk of a cab. I jumped out of the shuttle and ran to
the cab, sliding into the seat behind the driver. The tired couple and the shuttle driver
stared at me. I told the surprised cabbie my mother’s
address. “I need to get there as soon as possible.” “That’s in Scottsdale,” he complained. I
threw four twenties over the seat. “Will that be enough?” “Sure, kid, no problem.” I sat back against the seat, folding my arms across my lap. The familiar city began to rush around me, but I didn’t look out the windows. I exerted myself to maintain control. I was determined not to lose myself at
this point, now that my plan was successfully
completed. There was no point in indulging in more
terror, more anxiety. My path was set. I just had to follow it now. So, instead of panicking, I closed my and
eyes spent the twenty- minute drive with Edward. I imagined that I had stayed at the to
airport meet Edward. I visualized how I would stand on my toes, the sooner to see his face. How quickly, how gracefully he would move
through the crowds of people separating us. And then I would run to close those last
few feet between us—reckless as always—and I would be in his marble arms, finally safe. I wondered where we would
have gone. North somewhere, so he could be outside
in the day. Or maybe somewhere very remote, so we lay
could in the sun together again. I imagined him by the shore, his skin sparkling like the sea. It wouldn’t matter how long we had to
hide. To be trapped in a hotel room with him be
would a kind of heaven. So many questions I still had for him. I could talk to him forever, never sleeping, never leaving his side. I could see his face so clearly now… almost hear his voice. And, despite all
the horror and hopelessness, I was fleetingly happy. So involved was I
in my escapist daydreams, I lost all track of the seconds racing by. “Hey, what was the number?” The cabbie’s
question punctured my fantasy, letting all the colors run out of my
lovely delusions. Fear, bleak and hard, was waiting to fill
the empty space they left behind. “Fifty-eight twenty-one.” My voice
sounded strangled. The cabbie looked at me, nervous that I
was having an episode or something. “Here we are, then.” He was anxious to me
get out of his car, probably hoping I wouldn’t ask for my
change. “Thank you,” I whispered. There was no to
need be afraid, I reminded myself. The house was empty. I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, frightened, depending on me. I ran to the
door, reaching up automatically to grab the key
under the eave. I unlocked the door. It was dark inside, empty, normal. I ran to the phone, turning on the kitchen light on my way. There, on the whiteboard, was a ten-digit
number written in a small, neat hand. My fingers stumbled over the
keypad, making mistakes. I had to hang up and
start again. I concentrated only on the buttons this
time, carefully pressing each one in turn. I was successful. I held the phone to my
ear with a shaking hand. It rang only once. “Hello, Bella,” that easy voice answered. “That was very
quick. I’m impressed.” “Is my mom all right?” “She’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry, Bella, I have no quarrel with her. Unless you didn’t come alone, of course.” Light, amused. “I’m alone.” I’d never in
been more alone my entire life. “Very good. Now, do you know the ballet
studio just around the corner from your home?” “Yes. I know how to get there.” “Well, then, I’ll see you very soon.” I hung up. I ran from the room, through the door, out into the baking
heat. There was no time to look back at my
house, and I didn’t want to see it as it was
now—empty, a symbol of fear instead of sanctuary. The last person to walk through those was
familiar rooms my enemy. From the corner of my eye, I could almost see my mother standing in
the shade of the big eucalyptus tree where I’d played as a child. Or kneeling by the
little plot of dirt around the mailbox, the cemetery of all the flowers she’d to
tried grow. The memories were better than any reality
I would see today. But I raced away from them, toward the corner, leaving everything me.
behind I felt so slow, like I was running wet to
through sand—I couldn’t seem get enough purchase from the concrete. I tripped
several times, once falling, catching myself with my
hands, scraping them on the sidewalk, and then
lurching up to plunge forward again. But at last I made it to the corner. Just another street now; I ran, sweat pouring down my face, gasping. The sun was hot on my skin, too bright as it bounced off the white
concrete and blinded me. I felt dangerously exposed. More fiercely
than I would have dreamed I was capable of, I wished for the green, protective of
forests Forks… of home. When I rounded the last corner, onto Cactus, I could see the studio, looking just as I remembered it. The parking lot in front was empty, the vertical blinds in all the windows
drawn. I couldn’t run anymore—I couldn’t and had
breathe; exertion fear gotten the best of me. I thought of my mother to keep my feet
moving, one in front of the other. As I got closer, I could see the sign the
inside door. It was handwritten on hot pink paper; it
said the dance studio was closed for spring break. I touched the handle, tugged on it
cautiously. It was unlocked. I fought to catch my
breath, and opened the door. The lobby was dark
and empty, cool, the air conditioner thrumming. The
plastic molded chairs were stacked along the walls, and the carpet smelled like shampoo. The west dance floor was dark, I could see through the open viewing
window. The east dance floor, the bigger room, was lit. But the blinds were closed on
the window. Terror seized me so strongly that I was
literally trapped by it. I couldn’t make my feet move forward. And then my mother’s voice called. “Bella? Bella?” That same tone of panic.
hysterical I sprinted to the door, to the sound of
her voice. “Bella, you scared me! Don’t you ever do
that to me again!” Her voice continued as I ran into the
long, high- ceilinged room. I stared around me, trying to find where her voice was coming
from. I heard her laugh, and I whirled to the
sound. There she was, on the TV screen, tousling my hair in relief. It was
Thanksgiving, and I was twelve. We’d gone to see my in
grandmother California, the last year before she died. We went to the beach one day, and I’d leaned too far over the edge of
the pier. She’d seen my feet flailing, trying to my
reclaim balance. “Bella? Bella?” she’d called to me in
fear. And then the TV screen was blue. I turned slowly. He was standing very by
still the back exit, so still I hadn’t noticed him at first. In his hand was a remote control. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then he smiled. He walked toward me, quite close, and then passed me to put to
the remote down next the VCR. I turned carefully to watch him. “Sorry about that, Bella, but isn’t it to
better that your mother didn’t really have be involved in all this?” His voice was
courteous, kind. And suddenly it hit me. My mother was safe. She was still in
Florida. She’d never gotten my message. She’d been
never terrified by the dark red eyes in the abnormally pale face before me. She was
safe. “Yes,” I answered, my voice saturated
with relief. “You don’t sound angry that I tricked
you.” “I’m not.” My sudden high made me brave. What did it matter now? It would soon be
over. Charlie and Mom would never be harmed, would never have to fear. I felt almost
giddy. Some analytical part of my mind warned me
that I was dangerously close to snapping from the stress. “How odd. You really mean it.” His dark eyes assessed me with interest. The irises were nearly black, just a hint
of ruby around the edges. Thirsty. “I will give your strange coven
this much, you humans can be quite interesting. I guess I can see the draw of observing
you. It’s amazing—some of you seem to have no
sense of your own self- interest at all.” He was standing a few feet away from me, arms folded, looking at me curiously. There was no menace in his face or stance. He was so very average- looking, nothing remarkable about his face or body
at all. Just the white skin, the circled eyes I’d
grown so used to. He wore a pale blue, long-sleeved shirt
and faded blue jeans. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that
your boyfriend will avenge you?” he asked, hopefully it seemed to me. “No, I don’t think so. At least, I asked him not to.” “And what was his to
reply that?” “I don’t know.” It was strangely easy to
converse with this genteel hunter. “I left him a letter.” “How romantic, a last letter. And do you think he will
honor it?” His voice was just a little harder now, a hint of sarcasm marring his polite tone. “I hope so.” “Hmmm. Well, our hopes then.
differ You see, this was all just a little too
easy, too quick. To be quite honest, I’m disappointed. I expected a much
greater challenge. And, after all, I only needed a little
luck.” I waited in silence. “When Victoria get
couldn’t to your father, I had her find out more about you. There was no sense in running all over I
the planet chasing you down when could comfortably wait for you in a place of my
choosing. So, after I talked to Victoria, I decided to come to Phoenix to pay your
mother a visit. I’d heard you say you were going home. At first, I never dreamed you meant it. But then I wondered. Humans can be very
predictable; they like to be somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. And wouldn’t it be the
perfect ploy, to go to the last place you should be you
when you’re hiding—the place that said you’d be. “But of course I wasn’t sure, it was just a hunch. I usually get a the
feeling about prey that I’m hunting, a sixth sense, if you will. I listened to your message when I got to
your mother’s house, but of course I couldn’t be sure where
you’d called from. It was very useful to have your number, but you could have been in Antarctica for
all I knew, and the game wouldn’t work unless you by.
were close “Then your boyfriend got on a plane to
Phoenix. Victoria was monitoring them for me, naturally; in a game with this many
players, I couldn’t be working alone. And so they
told me what I’d hoped, that you were here after all. I was prepared; I’d already been through
your charming home movies. And then it was simply a matter of the
bluff. “Very easy, you know, not really up to my
standards. So, you see, I’m hoping you’re wrong your
about boyfriend. Edward, isn’t it?” I didn’t answer. The bravado was wearing off. I sensed he
that was coming to the end of his gloat. It wasn’t meant for me anyway. There was no glory in beating me, a weak human. “Would you mind, very much, if I left a little letter of
my own for your Edward?” He took a step back and touched a digital
palm-sized video camera balanced carefully on top of the stereo. A small red light that it
indicated was already running. He adjusted it a few times, widened the frame. I stared at him in
horror. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t think he’ll
be able to resist hunting me after he watches this. And I wouldn’t want him to
miss anything. It was all for him, of course. You’re simply a human, who unfortunately
was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and indisputably with
running the wrong crowd, I might add.” He stepped toward me, smiling. “Before we begin…” I felt a of
curl nausea in the pit of my stomach as he spoke. This was something I had not
anticipated. “I would just like to rub it in, just a little bit. The answer was there
all along, and I was so afraid Edward would see that
and ruin my fun. It happened once, oh, ages ago. The one and only time my prey escaped me. “You see, the vampire who was so stupidly
fond of this little victim made the choice that your Edward was too weak to make. When the old one knew I was after his
little friend, he stole her from the asylum where he the
worked—I never will understand obsession some vampires seem to form with you humans—and as soon
as he freed her he made her safe. She didn’t even seem to notice the pain, poor little creature. She’d been stuck in
that black hole of a cell for so long. A hundred years earlier and she would at
have been burned the stake for her visions. In the nineteen- twenties it was the and
asylum the shock treatments. When she opened her eyes, strong with her
fresh youth, it was like she’d never seen the sun
before. The old vampire made her a strong new
vampire, and there was no reason for me to touch
her then.” He sighed. “I destroyed the old one in
vengeance.” “Alice,” I breathed, astonished. “Yes,
your little friend. I was surprised to see her in the
clearing. So I guess her coven ought to be able to
derive some comfort from this experience. I get you, but they get her. The one victim who escaped me, quite an honor, actually. “And she did so
smell delicious. I still regret that I never got to
taste… She smelled even better than you do. Sorry—I don’t mean to be offensive. You have a very nice smell. Floral, somehow…” He took another step
toward me, till he was just inches away. He lifted a lock of my hair and sniffed
at it delicately. Then he gently patted the strand back
into place, and I felt his cool fingertips against my
throat. He reached up to stroke my cheek once his
quickly with thumb, his face curious. I wanted so badly to
run, but I was frozen. I couldn’t even flinch
away. “No,” he murmured to himself as he his
dropped hand, “I don’t understand.” He sighed. “Well, I suppose we should get on with it. And then I can call your friends and tell
them where to find you, and my little message.” I was definitely
sick now. There was pain coming, I could see it in
his eyes. It wouldn’t be enough for him to win, to feed and go. There would be no quick
end like I’d been counting on. My knees began to shake, and I was afraid
I was going to fall. He stepped back, and began to circle, casually, as if he were trying to get a a
better view of statue in a museum. His face was still open and as he
friendly decided where to start. Then he slumped forward, into a crouch I
recognized, and his pleasant smile slowly widened, grew, till it wasn’t a smile at all but a
contortion of teeth, exposed and glistening. I couldn’t help
myself—I tried to run. As useless as I knew it would be, as weak as my knees already were, panic took over and I bolted for the
emergency door. He was in front of me in a flash. I didn’t see if he used his hand or his
foot, it was too fast. A crushing blow struck
my chest—I felt myself flying backward, and then heard the crunch as my head into
bashed the mirrors. The glass buckled, some of the pieces and
shattering splintering on the floor beside me. I was too stunned to feel the pain. I couldn’t breathe yet. He walked toward
me slowly. “That’s a very nice effect,” he said, examining the mess of glass, his voice
friendly again. “I thought this room would be visually my
dramatic for little film. That’s why I picked this place to meet
you. It’s perfect, isn’t it?” I ignored him, scrambling on my hands and knees, crawling toward the other door. He was me
over at once, his foot stepping down hard on my leg. I heard the sickening snap before I felt
it. But then I did feel it, and I couldn’t hold back my scream of
agony. I twisted up to reach for my leg, and he was standing over me, smiling. “Would you like to rethink your
last request?” he asked pleasantly. His toe nudged my I
broken leg and heard a piercing scream. With a shock, I realized it was mine. “Wouldn’t you rather have Edward try to
find me?” he prompted. “No!” I croaked. “No, Edward, don’t—” And then something into
smashed my face, throwing me back into the broken mirrors. Over the pain of my leg, I felt the sharp rip across my scalp the
where glass cut into it. And then the warm wetness began to spread
through my hair with alarming speed. I could feel it soaking the shoulder of
my shirt, hear it dripping on the wood below. The smell of it twisted my stomach. Through the nausea and dizziness I saw me
something that gave a sudden, final shred of hope. His eyes, merely intent before, now burned with an
uncontrollable need. The blood— spreading crimson across my
white shirt, pooling rapidly on the floor—was driving
him mad with thirst. No matter his original intentions, he out
couldn’t draw this much longer. Let it be quick now, was all I could hope
as the flow of blood from my head sucked my consciousness away with
it. My eyes were closing. I heard, as if from underwater, the final growl of
the hunter. I could see, through the long tunnels my
eyes had become, his dark shape coming toward me. With my last effort, my hand raised to my
instinctively protect face. My eyes closed, and I drifted. CHAPTER 23 THE ANGEL the angel, twilight ballet
studio fight, twilight edward vs james, twilight bella
attacked, twilight vampire rescue. Edward fights to
James save Bella in the ballet studio in Twilight climactic moment. AS I DRIFTED, I DREAMED. Where I floated, under the dark water, I heard the happiest sound my mind could
conjure up—as beautiful, as uplifting, as it was ghastly. It was another snarl; a deeper, wilder roar that rang with fury. I was brought back, almost to the surface, by a sharp pain slashing my upraised hand, but I couldn’t find my way back far to my
enough open eyes. And then I knew I was dead. Because, through the heavy water, I heard
the sound of an angel calling my name, calling me to the only heaven I wanted. “Oh no, Bella, no!” the angel’s voice in
cried horror. Behind that longed-for sound was another
noise—an awful tumult that my mind shied away from. A vicious bass growling, a shocking
snapping sound, and a high keening, suddenly breaking
off… I tried to concentrate on the angel’s
voice instead. “Bella, please! Bella, listen to me, please, please, Bella, please!” he begged. Yes, I wanted to say. Anything. But I couldn’t find my lips. “Carlisle!” the angel called, agony in
his perfect voice. “Bella, Bella, no, oh please, no, no!” And the angel was sobbing tearless, broken sobs. The angel shouldn’t weep, it was wrong. I tried to find him, to tell him everything was fine, but the water was so deep, it was pressing on me, and I couldn’t
breathe. There was a point of pressure against my
head. It hurt. Then, as that pain broke through
the darkness to me, other pains came, stronger pains. I cried
out, gasping, breaking through the dark pool. “Bella!” the angel cried. “She’s lost
some blood, but the head wound isn’t deep,” a calm voice informed me. “Watch out for
her leg, it’s broken.” A howl of rage strangled on
the angel’s lips. I felt a sharp stab in my side. This couldn’t be heaven, could it? There
was too much pain for that. “Some ribs, too, I think,” the methodical
voice continued. But the sharp pains were fading. There was a new pain, a scalding pain in
my hand that was overshadowing everything else. Someone was burning me. “Edward.” I tried
to tell him, but my voice was so heavy and slow. I couldn’t understand myself. “Bella, to
you’re going be fine. Can you hear me, Bella? I love you.” “Edward,” I tried again. My voice was a
little clearer. “Yes, I’m here.” “It hurts,” I whimpered. “I know, Bella, I know”—and then, away from me, anguished— “can’t you do
anything?” “My bag, please…. Hold your breath, Alice, it will help,” Carlisle promised. “Alice?” I groaned. “She’s here, she knew
where to find you.” “My hand hurts,” I tried to tell him. “I know, Bella. Carlisle will give you
something, it will stop.” “My hand is burning!” I screamed, finally breaking through the
last of the darkness, my eyes fluttering open. I couldn’t see
his face, something dark and warm was clouding my
eyes. Why couldn’t they see the fire and put it
out? His voice was frightened. “Bella?” “The fire! Someone stop the
fire!” I screamed as it burned me. “Carlisle! Her hand!” “He bit her.” Carlisle’s voice was no longer calm, it was appalled. I heard Edward catch his
breath in horror. “Edward, you have to do it.” It was Alice’s voice, close by my head. Cool fingers brushed at the wetness in my
eyes. “No!” he bellowed. “Alice,” I moaned. “There may be a chance,” Carlisle said. “What?” Edward begged. “See if you can
suck the venom back out. The wound is fairly clean.” As Carlisle
spoke, I could feel more pressure on my head, something poking and pulling at my scalp. The pain of it was lost in the pain of
the fire. “Will that work?” Alice’s voice was
strained. “I don’t know,” Carlisle said. “But we to
have hurry.” “Carlisle, I…” Edward hesitated. “I if
don’t know I can do that.” There was agony in his beautiful voice
again. “It’s your decision, Edward, either way. I can’t help you. I have to get this here
bleeding stopped if you’re going to be taking blood from her hand.” I writhed in the grip of the fiery
torture, the movement making the pain in my leg
flare sickeningly. “Edward!” I screamed. I realized my eyes
were closed again. I opened them, desperate to find his face. And I found him. Finally, I could see his
perfect face, staring at me, twisted into a mask of and
indecision pain. “Alice, get me something to brace her
leg!” Carlisle was bent over me, working on my
head. “Edward, you must do it now, or it will be too late.” Edward’s face was drawn. I watched his as
eyes the doubt was suddenly replaced with a blazing determination. His jaw tightened.
I felt his cool, strong fingers on my burning hand, locking it in place. Then his head bent
over it, and his cold lips pressed against my skin. At first the pain was worse. I screamed and thrashed against the cool
hands that held me back. I heard Alice’s voice, trying to calm me. Something heavy held my leg to the floor, and Carlisle had my head locked in the of
vise his stone arms. Then, slowly, my writhing calmed as my
hand grew more and more numb. The fire was dulling, focusing into an
ever-smaller point. I felt my consciousness slipping as the
pain subsided. I was afraid to fall into the black
waters again, afraid I would lose him in the darkness. “Edward,” I tried to say, but I couldn’t
hear my voice. They could hear me. “He’s right here, Bella.” “Stay, Edward, stay with me….” “I will.” His voice was strained, but somehow triumphant. I sighed
contentedly. The fire was gone, the other pains dulled
by a sleepiness seeping through my body. “Is it all out?” Carlisle asked from far
somewhere away. “Her blood tastes clean,” Edward said
quietly. “I can taste the morphine.” “Bella?” Carlisle called to me. I tried to answer. “Mmmmm?” “Is the fire gone?” “Yes,” I sighed. “Thank you, Edward.” “I love
you,” he answered. “I know,” I breathed, so tired. I heard my favorite sound in
the world: Edward’s quiet laugh, weak with relief. “Bella?” Carlisle asked
again. I frowned; I wanted to sleep. “What?” “Where is your mother?” “In
Florida,” I sighed. “He tricked me, Edward. He watched our videos.” The outrage in my
voice was pitifully frail. But that reminded me. “Alice.” I tried to
open my eyes. “Alice, the video—he knew you, Alice, he knew where you came from.” I meant to speak urgently, but my voice
was feeble. “I smell gasoline,” I added, surprised in
through the haze my brain. “It’s time to move her,” Carlisle said. “No, I want to sleep,” I complained. “You can sleep, sweetheart, I’ll carry
you,” Edward soothed me. And I was in his arms, cradled against his chest— floating, all
the pain gone. “Sleep now, Bella” were the last words I
heard. CHAPTER 24 AN IMPASSE. an impasse, twilight bella
hospital, twilight bella chooses edward, twilight
love vs normal life, twilight final chapter. Bella recovers in
hospital, choosing Edward over a normal life in
Twilight fast ending. My eyes opened to a bright, white light. I was in an unfamiliar room, a white room. The wall beside me was in
covered long vertical blinds; over my head, the glaring lights blinded me. I was up a
propped on hard, uneven bed—a bed with rails. The pillows
were flat and lumpy. There was an annoying beeping sound close
somewhere by. I hoped that meant I was still alive. Death shouldn’t be this uncomfortable. My
hands were all twisted up with clear tubes, and something was taped across my face, under my nose. I lifted my hand to rip it
off. “No, you don’t.” And cool fingers caught
my hand. “Edward?” I turned my head slightly, and his exquisite face was just inches
from mine, his chin resting on the edge of my pillow. I realized again that I was alive, this time with gratitude and elation. “Oh, Edward, I’m so sorry!” “Shhhh,” he shushed me. “Everything’s all right
now.” “What happened?” I couldn’t remember
clearly, and my mind rebelled against me as I to
tried recall. “I was almost too late. I could have been
too late,” he whispered, his voice tormented. “I was
so stupid, Edward. I thought he had my mom.” “He tricked us all.” “I need to call and
Charlie my mom,” I realized through the haze. “Alice them.
called Renée is here—well, here in the hospital. She’s getting something to eat right now.” “She’s here?” I tried to sit up, but the spinning in my head accelerated, and his hand pushed me gently down onto
the pillows. “She’ll be back soon,” he promised. “And you need to stay still.” “But what did you tell her?” I panicked. I had no interest in being
soothed. My mom was here and I was recovering from
a vampire attack. “Why did you tell her I’m here?” “You fell down two flights of stairs and
through a window.” He paused. “You have to admit, it could happen.” I sighed, and it hurt. I stared down at my body under the sheet, the huge lump that was my leg. “How bad am I?” I asked. “You have a broken leg, four broken ribs, some cracks in your skull, bruises every
covering inch of your skin, and you’ve lost a lot of blood. They gave you a few transfusions. I didn’t like it—it made you smell all a
wrong for while.” “That must have been a nice change for
you.” “No, I like how you smell.” “How did you do it?” I asked quietly. He knew what I meant at once. “I’m not sure.” He looked away from my
wondering eyes, lifting my gauze- wrapped hand from the
bed and holding it gently in his, careful not to disrupt the wire me to one
connecting of the monitors. I waited patiently for the rest. He sighed without returning my gaze. “It was impossible… to stop,” he
whispered. “Impossible. But I did.” He looked up
finally, with half a smile. “I must love you.” “Don’t I taste as good as I smell?” I smiled in response. That hurt my face. “Even better— better than I’d imagined.” “I’m sorry,” I apologized. He raised his
eyes to the ceiling. “Of all the things to apologize for.” “What should I apologize for?” “For very
nearly taking yourself away from me forever.” “I’m sorry,” I apologized again. “I know
why you did it.” His voice was comforting. “It was still
irrational, of course. You should have waited for me, you should have told me.” “You wouldn’t
have let me go.” “No,” he agreed in a grim tone, “I wouldn’t.” Some very unpleasant were
memories beginning to come back to me. I shuddered, and then winced. He was
instantly anxious. “Bella, what’s wrong?” “What happened to
James?” “After I pulled him off you, Emmett and Jasper took care of him.” There was a fierce note of regret in his
voice. This confused me. “I didn’t see Emmett
and Jasper there.” “They had to leave the room… there was a lot of blood.” “But you stayed.” “Yes, I stayed.” “And Alice, and Carlisle… ,” I said in
wonder. “They love you, too, you know.” A flash of painful images from the last
time I’d seen Alice reminded me of something. “Did Alice see the tape?” I asked
anxiously. “Yes.” A new sound darkened his voice, a tone of sheer hatred. “She was always
in the dark, that’s why she didn’t remember.” “I know. She understands now.” His voice was even, but his face was black with fury. I tried to reach his face with my free
hand, but something stopped me. I glanced down
to see the IV pulling at my hand. “Ugh.” I winced. “What is it?” he asked anxiously— distracted, but not
enough. The bleakness did not entirely leave his
eyes. “Needles,” I explained, looking away from
the one in my hand. I concentrated on a warped ceiling tile
and tried to breathe deeply despite the ache in my ribs. “Afraid of a needle,” he muttered to himself under his breath, shaking his head. “Oh, a sadistic vampire, intent on torturing her to death, sure, no problem, she runs off to meet
him. An IV, on the other hand…” I rolled my eyes. I was pleased to that
discover this reaction, at least, was pain-free. I decided to the
change subject. “Why are you here?” I asked. He stared at me, first confusion and then
hurt touching his eyes. His brows pulled together as he frowned. “Do you want me to leave?” “No!” I protested, horrified by the
thought. “No, I meant, why does my mother think I
you’re here? need to have my story straight before she gets back.” “Oh,” he said, and his forehead smoothed back
into marble. “I came to Phoenix to talk some sense
into you, to convince you to come back to Forks.” His wide eyes were so earnest and sincere, I almost believed him myself. “You agreed
to see me, and you drove out to the hotel where I
was staying with Carlisle and Alice—of course I was here with parental supervision,” he inserted virtuously, “but you tripped
on the stairs on the way to my room and… well, you know the rest. You don’t need
to remember any details, though; you have a good excuse to be a
little muddled about the finer points.” I thought about it for a moment. “There are a few flaws with that story. Like no broken windows.” “Not really,” he said. “Alice had a little bit too much
fun fabricating evidence. It’s all been taken care of very —you sue
convincingly could probably the hotel if you wanted to. You have nothing to worry
about,” he promised, stroking my cheek with the
lightest of touches. “Your only job now is to heal.” I wasn’t so lost to the soreness or the I
fog of medication that didn’t respond to his touch. The beeping of the monitor
jumped around erratically— now he wasn’t the only one who could hear my heart misbehave. “That’s going to be embarrassing,” I to
muttered myself. He chuckled, and a speculative look came
into his eye. “Hmm, I wonder…” He leaned in slowly;
the beeping noise accelerated wildly before his lips even touched me. But when they did, though with the most gentle of pressure, the beeping stopped altogether. He pulled
back abruptly, his anxious expression turning to relief
as the monitor reported the restarting of my heart. “It seems that I’m going to have to be
even more careful with you than usual.” He frowned. “I was not finished kissing
you,” I complained. “Don’t make me come over
there.” He grinned, and bent to press his lips to
lightly mine. The monitor went wild. But then his lips
were taut. He pulled away. “I think I hear your
mother,” he said, grinning again. “Don’t leave me,” I cried, an irrational surge of panic me.
flooding through I couldn’t let him go—he might disappear
from me again. He read the terror in my eyes for a short
second. “I won’t,” he promised solemnly, and then
he smiled. “I’ll take a nap.” He moved from the hard
plastic chair by my side to the turquoise faux-leather recliner at the of
foot my bed, leaning it all the way back, and closing his eyes. He was perfectly
still. “Don’t forget to breathe,” I whispered
sarcastically. He took a deep breath, his eyes still
closed. I could hear my mother now. She was talking to someone, maybe a nurse, and she sounded tired and upset. I wanted to jump out of the bed and run
to her, to calm her, promise that everything was
fine. But I wasn’t in any sort of shape for
jumping, so I waited impatiently. The door opened
a crack, and she peeked through. “Mom!” I
whispered, my voice full of love and relief. She took in Edward’s still form on the
recliner, and tiptoed to my bedside. “He never
leaves, does he?” she mumbled to herself. “Mom, I’m so glad to see you!” She bent down to hug me gently, and I felt warm tears falling on my
cheeks. “Bella, I was so upset!” “I’m sorry, Mom. But everything’s fine now, it’s
okay,” I comforted her. “I’m just glad to see
finally your eyes open.” She sat on the edge of my bed. I suddenly realized I didn’t have any it
idea when was. “How long have they been closed?” “It’s Friday, hon, you’ve been out for a
while.” “Friday?” I was shocked. I tried to what
remember day it had been when… but I didn’t want to think about that. “They had to keep you sedated for a while, honey—you’ve got a lot of injuries.” “I know.” I could feel them. “You’re lucky Dr. Cullen was there. He’s such a nice man… very young, though. And he looks more like a model a
than doctor….” “You met Carlisle?” “And Edward’s sister
Alice. She’s a lovely girl.” “She is,” I agreed wholeheartedly. She glanced over
her shoulder at Edward, lying with his eyes closed in the chair. “You didn’t tell me you had such good in
friends Forks.” I cringed, and then moaned. “What hurts?” she demanded anxiously, turning back to
me. Edward’s eyes flashed to my face. “It’s fine,” I assured them. “I just have
to remember not to move.” He lapsed back into his phony slumber. I took advantage of my mother’s momentary
distraction to keep the subject from returning to my less-than- candid behavior. “Where’s I
Phil?” asked quickly. “Florida—oh, Bella! You’ll never guess!
Just when we were about to leave, the best news!” “Phil got signed?” I guessed. “Yes! How did you guess! The
Suns, can you believe it?” “That’s great, Mom,” I said as enthusiastically as I
could manage, though I had little idea what that meant. “And you’ll like Jacksonville so much,” she gushed while I stared at her vacantly. “I was a little bit worried when Phil
started talking about Akron, what with the snow and everything, because you know how I hate the cold, but now Jacksonville! It’s always sunny, and the humidity really isn’t that bad. We found the cutest house, yellow, with white trim, and a porch just like in
an old movie, and this huge oak tree, and it’s just a
few minutes from the ocean, and you’ll have your own bathroom—” “Wait, Mom!” I interrupted. Edward still
had his eyes closed, but he looked too tense to pass as asleep. “What are you talking about? I’m not to
going Florida. I live in Forks.” “But you don’t have to
anymore, silly,” she laughed. “Phil will be able
to be around so much more now… we’ve talked about it a lot, and what I’m going to do is trade off on
the away games, half the time with you, half the time
with him.” “Mom.” I hesitated, wondering how best to
be diplomatic about this. “I want to live in Forks. I’m already settled in at school, and I have a couple of girlfriends” —she glanced toward Edward again when I
reminded her of friends, so I tried another direction— “and needs
Charlie me. He’s just all alone up there, and he can’t cook at all.” “You want to stay in Forks?” she asked, bewildered. The idea was to
inconceivable her. And then her eyes flickered back toward
Edward. “Why?” “I told you—school, Charlie— ouch!” I’d shrugged. Not a good idea. Her hands fluttered helplessly over me, trying to find a safe place to pat. She made do with my forehead; it was
unbandaged. “Bella, honey, you hate Forks,” she me.
reminded “It’s not so bad.” She frowned and looked
back and forth between Edward and me, this time very deliberately. “Is it this
boy?” she whispered. I opened my mouth to lie, but her eyes were scrutinizing my face, and I knew she would see through that. “He’s part of it,” I admitted. No need to confess how big a part. “So, have you had a chance to talk with
Edward?” I asked. “Yes.” She hesitated, looking at
his perfectly still form. “And I want to talk to you about that.” Uh-oh. “What about?” I asked. “I think is
that boy in love with you,” she accused, keeping her voice low. “I think so, too,” I confided. “And how do you feel about him?” She only poorly concealed the raging in
curiosity her voice. I sighed, looking away. As much as I my
loved mom, this was not a conversation I wanted to
have with her. “I’m pretty crazy about him.” There—that
sounded like something a teenager with her first boyfriend might say. “Well, he seems very nice, and, my goodness, he’s incredibly good-
looking, but you’re so young, Bella…” Her voice
was unsure; as far as I could remember, this was the first time since I was eight
that she’d come close to trying to sound like a parental authority. I the of
recognized reasonable- but-firm tone voice from talks I’d had with her about men. “I know that, Mom. Don’t worry about it. It’s just a
crush,” I soothed her. “That’s right,” she agreed, easily pleased. Then she sighed and over
glanced guiltily her shoulder at the big, round clock on the wall. “Do you need to
go?” She bit her lip. “Phil’s supposed to call
in a little while… I didn’t know you were going to wake
up….” “No problem, Mom.” I tried to tone down
the relief so she wouldn’t get her feelings hurt. “I won’t be alone.” “I’ll be back
soon. I’ve been sleeping here, you know,” she announced, proud of herself. “Oh, Mom, you don’t have to do that! You can
sleep at home—I’ll never notice.” The swirl of painkillers in my brain was
making it hard to concentrate even now, though, apparently, I’d been sleeping for
days. “I was too nervous,” she admitted
sheepishly. “There’s been some crime in the
neighborhood, and I don’t like being there alone.” “Crime?” I asked in alarm. “Someone broke
into that dance studio around the corner from the house and burned it to the ground— left a
there’s nothing at all! And they left stolen car right out front. Do you when
remember you used to dance there, honey?” “I remember.” I shivered, and
winced. “I can stay, baby, if you need me.” “No, Mom, I’ll be fine. Edward will be
with me.” She looked like that might be why she to
wanted stay. “I’ll be back tonight.” It sounded as a a
much like warning as it sounded like promise, and she glanced at Edward again
as she said it. “I love you, Mom.” “I love you, too, Bella. Try to be more careful when
you walk, honey, I don’t want to lose you.” Edward’s eyes stayed closed, but a wide
grin flashed across his face. A nurse came bustling in then to check my
all tubes and wires. My mother kissed my forehead, patted my
gauze- wrapped hand, and left. The nurse was checking the on
paper readout my heart monitor. “Are you feeling anxious, honey? Your got
heart rate a little high there.” “I’m fine,” I assured her. “I’ll tell RN
your that you’re awake. She’ll be in to see you in a minute.” As soon as she closed the door, Edward was at my side. “You stole a car?” I raised my eyebrows. He smiled, unrepentant. “It was a good car, very fast.” “How was your nap?” I asked. “Interesting.” His eyes narrowed. “What?” He looked down while he answered. “I’m surprised. I thought Florida… and
your mother… well, I thought that’s what you would
want.” I stared at him uncomprehendingly. “But
you’d be stuck inside all day in Florida. You’d only be able to come out at night, just like a real vampire.” He almost
smiled, but not quite. And then his face was
grave. “I would stay in Forks, Bella. Or somewhere like it,” he explained. “Someplace where I couldn’t hurt you
anymore.” It didn’t sink in at first. I continued to stare at him blankly as by
the words one one clicked into place in my head like a ghastly puzzle. I was barely conscious of the sound of my
heart accelerating, though, as my breathing became
hyperventilation, I was aware of the sharp aching in my
protesting ribs. He didn’t say anything; he watched my as
face warily the pain that had nothing to do with broken bones, pain that was
infinitely worse, threatened to crush me. And then another
nurse walked purposefully into the room. Edward sat still as stone as she took in
my expression with a practiced eye before turning to the monitors. “Time for more
pain meds, sweetheart?” she asked kindly, tapping IV
the feed. “No, no,” I mumbled, trying to keep the
agony out of my voice. “I don’t need anything.” I couldn’t to my
afford close eyes now. “No need to be brave, honey. It’s better if you don’t get too stressed
out; you need to rest.” She waited, but I just shook my head. “Okay,” she sighed. “Hit the call button
when you’re ready.” She gave Edward a stern look, and threw one more anxious glance at the
machinery, before leaving. His cool hands were on my
face; I stared at him with wild eyes. “Shhh, Bella, calm down.” “Don’t leave
me,” I begged in a broken voice. “I won’t,” he promised. “Now relax before
I call the nurse back to sedate you.” But my heart couldn’t slow. “Bella.” He stroked my face anxiously. “I’m not
going anywhere. I’ll be right here as long as you need
me.” “Do you swear you won’t leave me?” I whispered. I tried to control the
gasping, at least. My ribs were throbbing. He put his hands on either side of my and
face brought his face close to mine. His eyes were wide and serious. “I swear.” The smell of his breath was
soothing. It seemed to ease the ache of my
breathing. He continued to hold my gaze while my and
body slowly relaxed the beeping returned to a normal pace. His eyes were dark, closer to black than gold today. “Better?” he asked. “Yes,” I said
cautiously. He shook his head and muttered something
unintelligible. I thought I picked out the word
“overreaction.” “Why did you say that?” I whispered, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “Are you tired of having to save me all
the time? Do you want me to go away?” “No, I don’t want to be without
you, Bella, of course not. Be rational. And I have no problem with saving you, either—if it weren’t for the fact that I
was the one putting you in danger… that I’m the reason that you’re here.” “Yes, you are the reason.” I frowned. “The reason I’m here—alive.” “Barely.” a
His voice was just whisper. “Covered in gauze and plaster and hardly
able to move.” “I wasn’t referring to my most recent
near-death experience,” I said, growing irritated. “I was of the
thinking others—you can take your pick. If it weren’t for you, I would be rotting
away in the Forks cemetery.” He winced at my words, but the haunted
look didn’t leave his eyes. “That’s not the worst part, though,” he continued to whisper. He acted as if I
hadn’t spoken. “Not seeing you there on the floor… crumpled and broken.” His voice was
choked. “Not thinking I was too late. Not even hearing you scream in pain—all
those unbearable memories that I’ll carry with me for the rest of eternity. No, the very worst
was feeling… knowing that I couldn’t stop. Believing I
that was going to kill you myself.” “But you didn’t.” “I could have. So easily.” I knew I needed to stay
calm… but he was trying to talk himself into
leaving me, and the panic fluttered in my lungs, trying to get out. “Promise me,” I whispered. “What?” “You know what.” I was starting to get angry now. He was so stubbornly determined to dwell
on the negative. He heard the change in my tone. His eyes tightened. “I don’t seem to be
strong enough to stay away from you, so I suppose that you’ll get your way… whether it kills you or not,” he added roughly. “Good.” He hadn’t
promised, though—a fact that I had not missed. The panic was only barely contained; I no
had strength left to control the anger. “You told me how you stopped… now I want to know why,” I demanded. “Why?” he repeated warily. “Why you did it. Why didn’t you just let
the venom spread? By now I would be just like you.” Edward’s eyes seemed
to turn flat black, and I remembered that this was something
he’d never intended me to know. Alice must have been preoccupied by the
things she’d learned about herself… or she’d been very careful with her
thoughts around him—clearly, he’d had no idea that she’d filled me in
on the mechanics of vampire conversions. He was surprised, and infuriated. His
nostrils flared, his mouth looked as if it was chiseled
from stone. He wasn’t going to answer, that much was
clear. “I’ll be the first to admit that I have
no experience with relationships,” I said. “But it just seems logical… a man and woman have to be somewhat
equal… as in, one of them can’t always be in and
swooping saving the other one. They have to save each other equally.” He folded his arms on the side of my bed
and rested his chin on his arms. His expression was smooth, the in.
anger reined Evidently he’d decided he wasn’t angry
with me. I hoped I’d get a chance to warn Alice he
before caught up with her. “You have saved me,” he said quietly. “I can’t always be Lois Lane,” I insisted. “I want to be Superman, too.” “You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice was soft; he stared intently at
the edge of the pillowcase. “I think I do.” “Bella, you don’t know. I’ve had almost ninety years to think
about this, and I’m still not sure.” “Do you wish
that Carlisle hadn’t saved you?” “No, I don’t wish that.” He paused before
continuing. “But my life was over. I wasn’t giving
anything up.” “You are my life. You’re the only thing
it would hurt me to lose.” I was getting better at this. It was easy to admit how much I needed
him. He was very calm, though. Decided. “I can’t do it, Bella. I won’t do that to
you.” “Why not?” My throat rasped and the words
weren’t as loud as I’d meant them to be. “Don’t tell me it’s too hard! After
today, or I guess it was a few days ago… anyway, after that, it should be nothing.” He glared at me. “And the pain?” he asked. I blanched. I couldn’t help it. But I tried to keep my expression from I
showing how clearly remembered the feeling… the fire in my veins. “That’s my problem,” I said. “I can handle it.” “It’s possible to take bravery to the it
point where becomes insanity.” “It’s not an issue. Three days. Big deal.” Edward grimaced again as my I
words reminded him that was more informed than he had ever intended me to be. I watched him repress the anger, watched as his eyes grew speculative. “Charlie?” he asked curtly. “Renée?” in I
Minutes passed silence as struggled to answer his question. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I closed it again. He waited, and his expression became triumphant he I
because knew had no true answer. “Look, that’s not an issue either,” I finally muttered; my voice was as as it
unconvincing always was when I lied. “Renée has always made the choices that
work for her—she’d want me to do the same. And Charlie’s resilient, he’s used to on
being his own. I can’t take care of them forever. I have my own life to live.” “Exactly,” he snapped. “And I won’t end
it for you.” “If you’re waiting for me to be on my
deathbed, I’ve got news for you! I was just there!” “You’re going to recover,” he reminded me. I took a deep breath to calm myself, ignoring the spasm of pain it triggered. I stared at him, and he stared back. There was no compromise in his face. “No,” I said slowly. “I’m not.” His forehead creased. “Of course you are. You may have a scar or two….” “You’re wrong,” I insisted. “I’m going to
die.” “Really, Bella.” He was anxious now. “You’ll be out of here in a few days. Two weeks at most.” I glared at him. “I may not die now… but I’m going to
die sometime. Every minute of the day, I get closer. And I’m going to get old.” He frowned as what I was saying sunk in, pressing his long fingers to his temples
and closing his eyes. “That’s how it’s supposed to happen. How it should happen. How it would have I
happened if didn’t exist—and I shouldn’t exist.” I snorted. He opened his eyes in surprise. “That’s stupid. That’s like going to just
someone who’s won the lottery, taking their money, and saying, ‘Look, let’s just go back to how things should
be. It’s better that way.’ And I’m not buying
it.” “I’m hardly a lottery prize,” he growled. “That’s right. You’re much better.” He
rolled his eyes and set his lips. “Bella, we’re not having this discussion
anymore. I refuse to damn you to an eternity of of
night and that’s the end it.” “If you think that’s the end, then you don’t know me very well,” I warned him. “You’re not the only I
vampire know.” His eyes went black again. “Alice dare.”
wouldn’t And for a moment he looked so frightening
that I couldn’t help but believe it—I couldn’t imagine someone brave enough to cross him. “Alice already saw it, didn’t she?” I guessed. “That’s why the things she
says upset you. She knows I’m going to be like you… someday.” “She’s wrong. She also saw you
dead, but that didn’t happen, either.” “You’ll
never catch me betting against Alice.” We stared at each other for a very long
time. It was quiet except for the whirring of
the machines, the beeping, the dripping, the ticking of
the big clock on the wall. Finally, his expression softened. “So
where does that leave us?” I wondered. He chuckled humorlessly. “I
believe it’s called an impasse.” I sighed. “Ouch,” I muttered. “How are
you feeling?” he asked, eyeing the button for the nurse. “I’m fine,” I lied. “I don’t believe you,” he said gently. “I’m not going back to
sleep.” “You need rest. All this arguing isn’t
good for you.” “So give in,” I hinted. “Nice try.” He reached for the button. “No!” He ignored me. “Yes?” the speaker on the
wall squawked. “I think we’re ready for more pain
medication,” he said calmly, ignoring my furious
expression. “I’ll send in the nurse.” The voice very
sounded bored. “I won’t take it,” I promised. He looked toward the sack of fluids my
hanging beside bed. “I don’t think they’re going to ask you
to swallow anything.” My heart rate started to climb. He read the fear in my eyes, and sighed in frustration. “Bella, you’re
in pain. You need to relax so you can heal. Why are you being so difficult? They’re
not going to put any more needles in you now.” “I’m not afraid of the needles,” I mumbled. “I’m afraid to close my eyes.” Then he smiled his crooked smile, and took my face between his hands. “I told you I’m not going anywhere. Don’t be afraid. As long as it makes you
happy, I’ll be here.” I smiled back, ignoring the ache in my cheeks. “You’re talking about forever, you know.” “Oh, you’ll get over it—it’s just a
crush.” I shook my head in disbelief—it made me
dizzy. “I was shocked when Renée swallowed that
one. I know you know better.” “That’s the
beautiful thing about being human,” he told me. “Things change.” My eyes
narrowed. “Don’t hold your breath.” He was laughing
when the nurse came in, brandishing a syringe. “Excuse me,” she
said brusquely to Edward. He got up and crossed to the end of the
small room, leaning against the wall. He folded his
arms and waited. I kept my eyes on him, still apprehensive. He met my gaze calmly. “Here you go, honey.” The nurse smiled as
she injected the medicine into my tube. “You’ll feel better now.” “Thanks,” I
mumbled, unenthusiastic. It didn’t take long. I my
could feel the drowsiness trickling through bloodstream almost immediately. “That ought to do it,” she muttered as my
eyelids drooped. She must have left the room, because something cold and smooth touched
my face. “Stay.” The word was slurred. “I will,” he promised. His voice was beautiful, like a lullaby. “Like I said, as long as it makes you happy… as long as it’s what’s best for you.” I tried to shake my head, but it was too heavy. “’S not the same
thing,” I mumbled. He laughed. “Don’t worry about
that now, Bella. You can argue with me when you
wake up.” I think I smiled. “’Kay.” I could feel at
his lips my ear. “I love you,” he whispered. “Me, too.” “I know,” he laughed quietly. I turned my head slightly… searching. He knew what I was after. His lips touched mine gently. “Thanks,” I sighed. “Anytime.” I wasn’t really at
there all anymore. But I fought against the stupor weakly. There was just one more thing I wanted to
tell him. “Edward?” I struggled to pronounce his
name clearly. “Yes?” “I’m betting on Alice,” I mumbled. And then the night closed over me. EPILOGUE: AN OCCASION. Edward helped me into his
car, being very careful of the wisps of silk
and chiffon, the flowers he’d just pinned into my
elaborately styled curls, and my bulky walking cast. He ignored the
angry set of my mouth. When he had me settled, he got in the and
driver’s seat headed back out the long, narrow drive. “At what point are to
exactly you going tell me what’s going on?” I asked grumpily. I really hated
surprises. And he knew that. “I’m shocked that you
haven’t figured it out yet.” He threw a mocking smile in my direction, and my breath caught in my throat. Would I ever get used to his perfection?
“I did mention that you looked very nice, didn’t I?” I verified. “Yes.” He grinned
again. I’d never seen him dress in black before, and, with the contrast against his pale
skin, his beauty was absolutely surreal. That I
much couldn’t deny, even if the fact that he was wearing a me
tuxedo made very nervous. Not quite as nervous as the dress. Or the shoe. Only one shoe, as my other foot was still securely in
encased plaster. But the stiletto heel, held on only by
satin ribbons, certainly wasn’t going to help me as I to
tried hobble around. “I’m not coming over anymore if Alice is
going to treat me like Guinea Pig Barbie when I do,” I griped. I’d spent the part
better of the day in Alice’s staggeringly vast bathroom, a helpless victim as she
played hairdresser and cosmetician. Whenever I fidgeted or complained, she me
reminded that she didn’t have any memories of being human, and asked me not to ruin her fun.
vicarious Then she’d dressed me in the most blue,
ridiculous dress—deep frilly and off the shoulders, with French
tags I couldn’t read—a dress more suitable for a runway than Forks. Nothing good could of
come our formal attire, of that I was sure. Unless… but I was afraid to put my suspicions
into words, even in my own head. I was distracted by
then the sound of a phone ringing. Edward pulled his cell phone from a his
pocket inside jacket, looking briefly at the caller ID before
answering. “Hello, Charlie,” he said warily.
“Charlie?” I frowned. Charlie had been… difficult
since my return to Forks. He had compartmentalized my bad into two
experience defined reactions. Toward Carlisle he was almost grateful.
worshipfully On the other hand, he was stubbornly that
convinced Edward was at fault— because, if not for him, I wouldn’t have left home
in the first place. And Edward was far from disagreeing with
him. These days I had rules that hadn’t
existed before: curfews… visiting hours. Something Charlie was in
saying made Edward’s eyes widen disbelief, and then a grin spread across his face. “You’re kidding!” He laughed. “What is
it?” I demanded. He ignored me. “Why don’t you
let me talk to him?” Edward suggested with evident pleasure. a
He waited for few seconds. “Hello, Tyler, this is Edward Cullen.” His voice was very friendly, on the
surface. I knew it well enough to catch the soft
edge of menace. What was Tyler doing at my house? The to
awful truth began dawn on me. I looked again at the inappropriate dress
Alice had forced me into. “I’m sorry if there’s been some kind of
miscommunication, but Bella is unavailable tonight.” tone
Edward’s changed, and the threat in his voice was suddenly
much more evident as he continued. “To be perfectly honest, she’ll be every
unavailable night, as far as anyone besides myself is
concerned. No offense. And I’m sorry about your
evening.” He didn’t sound sorry at all. And then he snapped the phone shut, a huge smirk on his face. My face and neck flushed crimson with
anger. I could feel the rage-induced tears to my
starting fill eyes. He looked at me in surprise. “Was that last part a bit too much? I to
didn’t mean offend you.” I ignored that. “You’re taking me to the
prom!” I yelled. It was embarrassingly obvious
now. If I’d been paying any attention at all, I’m sure I would have noticed the date on
the posters that decorated the school buildings. But I’d never dreamed he was thinking of
subjecting me to this. Didn’t he know me at all? He wasn’t the
expecting force of my reaction, that was clear. He pressed his lips and
together his eyes narrowed. “Don’t be difficult, Bella.” My eyes to
flashed the window; we were halfway to the school already. “Why are you doing this to me?” I demanded in horror. He gestured to his
tuxedo. “Honestly, Bella, what did you think we
were doing?” I was mortified. First, because I’d the
missed obvious. And also because the vague suspicions—
expectations, really—that I’d been forming all day, as Alice tried to transform me into a
beauty queen, were so far wide of the mark. My half-fearful hopes seemed very silly
now. I’d guessed there was some kind of
occasion brewing. But prom! That was the furthest thing my
from mind. The angry tears rolled over my cheeks. I remembered with dismay that I was very
uncharacteristically wearing mascara. I wiped quickly under my eyes to prevent
any smudges. My hand was unblackened when I pulled it
away; maybe Alice had known I would need waterproof makeup. “This is completely
ridiculous. Why are you crying?” he demanded in
frustration. “Because I’m mad!” “Bella.” He turned the
full force of his scorching golden eyes on me. “What?” I muttered, distracted. “Humor
me,” he insisted. His eyes were melting all my
fury. It was impossible to fight with him when
he cheated like that. I gave in with poor grace. “Fine,” I pouted, unable to glare as as I
effectively would have liked. “I’ll go quietly. But you’ll see. I’m way overdue for more bad luck. I’ll probably break my other leg. Look at this shoe! It’s a death trap!” I held out my good leg as evidence. “Hmmm.” He stared at my leg longer than
was necessary. “Remind me to thank Alice for that
tonight.” “Alice is going to be there?” That comforted me slightly. “With Jasper, and Emmett… and Rosalie,” he admitted. The feeling of comfort disappeared. There
had been no progress with Rosalie, though I was on quite good terms with her
sometimes- husband. Emmett enjoyed having me around—he my
thought bizarre human reactions were hilarious… or maybe it was just the fact that I fell
down a lot that he found so funny. Rosalie acted as if I didn’t
exist. While I shook my head to dispel the my
direction thoughts had taken, I thought of something else. “Is Charlie
in on this?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. “Of course.” He grinned, and then chuckled. Tyler
“Apparently wasn’t, though.” I gritted my teeth. How Tyler be
could so delusional, I couldn’t imagine. At school, where
Charlie couldn’t interfere, Edward and I were inseparable— except for
those rare sunny days. We were at the school now; Rosalie’s red
convertible was conspicuous in the parking lot. The clouds were thin today, a few streaks
of sunlight escaping through far away in the west. He got out and walked around the to
car open my door. He held out his hand. I sat stubbornly in
my seat, arms folded, feeling a secret twinge of
smugness. The lot was crowded with people in formal
dress: witnesses. He couldn’t remove me forcibly from the
car as he might have if we’d been alone. He sighed. “When someone wants to kill
you, you’re brave as a lion—and then when
someone mentions dancing…” He shook his head. I gulped. Dancing. “Bella, I won’t let anything
hurt you—not even yourself. I won’t let go of you once, I promise.” I thought about that and felt
suddenly much better. He could see that in my face. “There, now,” he said gently, “it won’t
be so bad.” He leaned down and wrapped one arm around
my waist. I took his other hand and let him lift me
from the car. He kept his arm tightly around me, supporting me as I limped toward the
school. In Phoenix, they held proms in hotel
ballrooms. This dance was in the gym, of course. It was probably the only room
in town big enough for a dance. When we got inside, I giggled. There were actual balloon arches and of
twisted garlands pastel crepe paper festooning the walls. “This looks like a horror movie waiting
to happen,” I snickered. “Well,” he muttered as we of
slowly approached the ticket table—he was carrying most my weight, but I still had to shuffle and
wobble my feet forward— “there are more than enough vampires present.” I looked a
at the dance floor; wide gap had formed in the center of the floor, where two
couples whirled gracefully. The other dancers pressed to the sides of
the room to give them space—no one wanted to stand in contrast with such radiance. Emmett and Jasper were intimidating and
flawless in classic tuxedos. Alice was striking in a black satin dress
with geometric cutouts that bared large triangles of her snowy white skin. And Rosalie was… well, Rosalie. She was beyond belief. Her vivid scarlet dress was backless, tight to her calves where it flared into
a wide ruffled train, with a neckline that plunged to her waist. I pitied every girl in the room, myself included. “Do you want me to bolt
the doors so you can massacre the unsuspecting townsfolk?” I whispered conspiratorially.
“And where do you fit into that scheme?” He glared. “Oh, I’m with the vampires, of course.” He smiled reluctantly. to get
“Anything out of dancing.” “Anything.” He bought our tickets, then
turned me toward the dance floor. I cringed against his arm and dragged my
feet. “I’ve got all night,” he warned. Eventually he towed me out to where his a
family was twirling elegantly—if in style totally unsuitable to the present time and music. I watched in horror. “Edward.” My throat
was so dry I could only manage a whisper. “I honestly can’t dance!” I could feel up
the panic bubbling inside my chest. “Don’t worry, silly,” he whispered back. “I can.” He put my arms around his neck
and lifted me to slide his feet under mine. And then we were whirling, too. “I feel like I’m five years old,” I laughed after a few minutes of
effortless waltzing. “You don’t look five,” he murmured, pulling me closer for a second, so that my feet were briefly a foot from
the ground. Alice caught my eye on a turn and smiled
in encouragement —I smiled back. I was surprised to realize that I was
actually enjoying myself… a little. “Okay, this isn’t half bad,” I admitted. But Edward was staring toward
the doors, and his face was angry. “What is it?” I wondered aloud. I followed his gaze, disoriented by the spinning, but finally
I could see what was bothering him. Jacob Black, not in a tux, but in a long-sleeved white shirt and tie, his hair smoothed back into his usual
ponytail, was crossing the floor toward us. After the first shock of recognition, I couldn’t help but feel bad for Jacob. He was clearly uncomfortable — so.
excruciatingly His face was apologetic as his eyes met
mine. Edward snarled very quietly. “Behave!” I
hissed. Edward’s voice was scathing. “He wants to
chat with you.” Jacob reached us then, the embarrassment
and apology even more evident on his face. “Hey, Bella, I was hoping you would be
here.” Jacob sounded like he’d been hoping the
exact opposite. But his smile was just as warm as ever. “Hi, Jacob.” I smiled back. “What’s up?” “Can I cut in?” he asked tentatively, glancing at Edward for the first time. I was shocked to notice that Jacob didn’t
have to look up. He must have grown half a foot since the
first time I’d seen him. Edward’s face was composed, his blank.
expression His only answer was to set me carefully
on my feet, and take a step back. “Thanks,” Jacob said amiably. Edward just nodded, looking at me intently before he turned
to walk away. Jacob put his hands on my waist, and I reached up to put my hands on his
shoulders. “Wow, Jake, how tall are you now?” He was smug. “Six-two.” We weren’t really
dancing—my leg made that impossible. Instead we swayed awkwardly from side to
side without moving our feet. It was just as well; the recent growth
spurt had left him looking gangly and uncoordinated, he was probably no better a dancer than I
was. “So, how did you end up here tonight?” I asked without true curiosity. Edward’s
Considering reaction, I could guess. “Can you believe my dad me
paid twenty bucks to come to your prom?” he admitted, slightly ashamed.
“Yes, I can,” I muttered. “Well, I hope you’re
enjoying yourself, at least. Seen anything you like?” I teased, nodding toward a group of girls
lined up against the wall like pastel confections. “Yeah,” he sighed. “But she’s taken.” He glanced down to meet my curious gaze a
for just second—then we both looked away, embarrassed. “You look really pretty, by
the way,” he added shyly. “Um, thanks. So why did
Billy pay you to come here?” I asked quickly, though I knew the answer. Jacob didn’t seem grateful for the he
subject change; looked away, uncomfortable again. “He said it was a to
‘safe’ place talk to you. I swear the old man is losing his mind.” I joined in his laughter weakly. “Anyway, he said that if I told you
something, he would get me that master cylinder I
need,” he confessed with a sheepish grin. “Tell me, then. I want you to get your
car finished.” I grinned back. At least Jacob didn’t any
believe of this. It made the situation a bit easier. Against the wall, Edward was watching my
face, his own face expressionless. I saw a in a
sophomore pink dress eyeing him with timid speculation, but he didn’t seem to be of
aware her. Jacob looked away again, ashamed. “Don’t
get mad, okay?” “There’s no way I’ll be mad at you, Jacob,” I assured him. “I won’t even be
mad at Billy. Just say what you have to.” “Well—this is so stupid, I’m sorry, Bella—he wants you to break up with your
boyfriend. He asked me to tell you ‘please.’” He shook his head in disgust. “He’s still superstitious, eh?” “Yeah. He
was… kind of over the top when you got hurt in
down Phoenix. He didn’t believe…” Jacob trailed off
self- consciously. My eyes narrowed. “I fell.” “I know that,” Jacob said quickly. “He thinks Edward had
something to do with me getting hurt.” It wasn’t a question, and despite my
promise, I was angry. Jacob wouldn’t meet my eyes. We weren’t even bothering to sway to the
music, though his hands were still on my waist, and mine around his neck. “Look, Jacob, I know Billy probably won’t this,
believe but just so you know”—he looked at me now, responding to the new earnestness in my
voice— “Edward really did save my life. If it weren’t for Edward and his father, I’d be dead.” “I know,” he claimed, but he sounded like my sincere words had
affected him some. Maybe he’d be able to convince Billy of
this much, at least. “Hey, I’m sorry you had to come
do this, Jacob,” I apologized. “At any rate, you get your parts, right?” “Yeah,” he muttered. He was still looking
awkward… upset. “There’s more?” I asked in
disbelief. “Forget it,” he mumbled, “I’ll get a job
and save the money myself.” I glared at him until he met my gaze. “Just spit it out, Jacob.” “It’s so bad.” “I don’t care. Tell me,” I insisted. “Okay… but, geez, this sounds bad.” He shook his head. “He said to tell you, no, to warn you, that—and this is his
plural, not mine”—he lifted one hand from my and
waist made little quotations marks in the air—“‘We’ll be watching.’” He watched warily for my
reaction. It sounded like something from a mafia
movie. I laughed out loud. “Sorry you had to do
this, Jake,” I snickered. “I don’t mind that
much.” He grinned in relief. His eyes were as my
appraising they raked quickly over dress. “So, should I tell him you said to butt
the hell out?” he asked hopefully. “No,” I sighed. “Tell him I said thanks. I know he means
well.” The song ended, and I dropped my arms. His hands hesitated at my waist, and he glanced at my bum leg. “Do you want to dance again? Or can I you
help get somewhere?” Edward answered for me. “That’s all right, Jacob. I’ll take it from here.” Jacob flinched, and stared wide-eyed at
Edward, who stood just beside us. “Hey, I didn’t see you there,” he mumbled. “I guess I’ll see you around, Bella.” He stepped back, waving
halfheartedly. I smiled. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.” “Sorry,” he said again before he turned
for the door. Edward’s arms wound around me as the next
song started. It was a little up-tempo for slow dancing, but that didn’t seem to concern him. I leaned my head against his chest, content. “Feeling better?” I teased. “Not
really,” he said tersely. “Don’t be mad at Billy,” I sighed. “He just worries about me for
Charlie’s sake. It’s nothing personal.” “I’m not mad at
Billy,” he corrected in a clipped voice. “But his son is irritating me.” I pulled back to look at him. His face was very serious. “Why?” “First of all, he made me break my
promise.” I stared at him in confusion. He half-smiled. “I promised I wouldn’t go
let of you tonight,” he explained. “Oh. Well, I forgive you.” “Thanks. But there’s something else.”
Edward frowned. I waited patiently. “He called you
pretty,” he finally continued, his frown deepening. “That’s practically an insult, the way
you look right now. You’re much more than beautiful.” I
laughed. “You might be a little biased.” “I don’t think that’s it. Besides, I have excellent eyesight.” We were
twirling again, my feet on his as he held me close. “So are you going to explain the reason
for all of this?” I wondered. He looked down at me, confused, and I glared meaningfully at
the crepe paper. He considered for a moment, and then
changed direction, spinning me through the crowd to the back
door of the gym. I caught a glimpse of Jessica and Mike
dancing, staring at me curiously. Jessica waved, and I smiled back quickly. Angela was
there, too, looking blissfully happy in the arms
of little Ben Cheney; she didn’t look up from his eyes, a head lower than hers. Lee and Samantha, Lauren, glaring toward
us, with Conner; I could name every face that
spiraled past me. And then we were outdoors, in the cool, dim light of a fading sunset. As soon as we were alone, he swung me up into his arms, and carried me across the dark grounds he
till reached the bench beneath the shadow of the madrone trees. He sat there, keeping me cradled against his chest. The moon was already up, visible through
the gauzy clouds, and his face glowed pale in the white
light. His mouth was hard, his eyes troubled. “The point?” I prompted softly. He me,
ignored staring up at the moon. “Twilight, again,” he murmured. “Another ending. No
matter how perfect the day is, it always has to end.” “Some things don’t
have to end,” I muttered through my teeth, instantly
tense. He sighed. “I brought you to the prom,” he said slowly, finally answering my
question, “because I don’t want you to miss
anything. I don’t want my presence to take anything
away from you, if I can help it. I want you to be human. I want your life to continue as it would
have if I’d died in nineteen- eighteen like I should have.” I shuddered at his
words, and then shook my head angrily. “In what strange parallel dimension would
I ever have gone to prom of my own free will? If you weren’t a thousand times me,
stronger than I would never have let you get away with
this.” He smiled briefly, but it didn’t touch
his eyes. “It wasn’t so bad, you said so yourself.” “That’s because I was with you.” We were quiet for a minute; he stared at
the moon and I stared at him. I wished there was some way to explain I
how very uninterested was in a normal human life. “Will you tell me something?” he asked, glancing down at me with a
slight smile. “Don’t I always?” “Just promise you’ll
tell me,” he insisted, grinning. I knew I was going
to regret this almost instantly. “Fine.” “You seemed honestly surprised I
when you figured out that was taking you here,” he began. “I was,” I interjected. “Exactly,” he agreed. “But you must have
had some other theory… I’m curious—what did you think I was you
dressing up for?” Yes, instant regret. I pursed my lips, hesitating. “I don’t want to tell you.” “You promised,” he objected. “I know.” “What’s the problem?” I knew he thought
it was mere embarrassment holding me back. “I think it will make you mad—or sad.” His brows pulled together over his eyes
as he thought that through. “I still want to know. Please?” I sighed. He waited. “Well… I assumed
it was some kind of… occasion. But I didn’t think it would be
some trite human thing… prom!” I scoffed. “Human?” he asked
flatly. He’d picked up on the key word. I looked down at my dress, fidgeting with a stray piece of chiffon. He waited in silence. “Okay,” I confessed
in a rush. “So I was hoping that you might have your
changed mind… that you were going to change me, after all.” A dozen emotions played his
across face. Some I recognized: anger… pain… and
then he seemed to collect himself and his expression became amused. “You thought that would be a tie
black occasion, did you?” he teased, touching the lapel
of his tuxedo jacket. I scowled to hide my embarrassment. “I don’t know how these things work. To me, at least, it seems more rational
than prom does.” He was still grinning. “It’s not funny,” I said. “No, you’re right, it’s not,” he agreed, his smile fading. “I’d rather
treat it like a joke, though, than believe you’re serious.” I
“But am serious.” He sighed deeply. “I know. And you’re
really that willing?” The pain was back in his eyes. I bit my lip and nodded. “So ready for this to be the end,” he murmured, almost to himself, “for this
to be the twilight of your life, though your life has barely started. You’re ready to give up everything.” “It’s not the end, it’s the beginning,” I disagreed under my breath. “I’m not
worth it,” he said sadly. “Do you remember when you
told me that I didn’t see myself very clearly?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “You obviously have the same blindness.” “I know what I am.” I sighed. But his mercurial mood shifted on me. He pursed his lips, and his eyes were
probing. He examined my face for a long moment. “You’re ready now, then?” he asked. “Um.” I gulped. “Yes?” He smiled, and inclined his head slowly until his
cold lips brushed against the skin just under the corner of my jaw. “Right now?” he whispered, his breath blowing cool on
my neck. I shivered involuntarily. “Yes,” I
whispered, so my voice wouldn’t have a chance to
break. If he thought I was bluffing, he was going to be disappointed. I’d already made this decision, and I was
sure. It didn’t matter that my body was rigid a
as plank, my hands balled into fists, my breathing
erratic… He chuckled darkly, and leaned away. His face did look disappointed. “You that
can’t really believe I would give in so easily,” he said with a sour edge to his mocking
tone. “A girl can dream.” His eyebrows rose. “Is that what you dream about? Being a
monster?” “Not exactly,” I said, frowning at his
word choice. Monster, indeed. “Mostly I dream about
being with you forever.” His expression changed, softened and by
saddened the subtle ache in my voice. “Bella.” His fingers lightly traced the
shape of my lips. “I will stay with you—isn’t that enough?” I smiled under his fingertips. “Enough
for now.” He frowned at my tenacity. No one was to
going surrender tonight. He exhaled, and the sound was practically
a growl. I touched his face. “Look,” I said. “I love you more than everything else in
the world combined. Isn’t that enough?” “Yes, it is enough,” he answered, smiling. “Enough for
forever.” And he leaned down to press his cold lips
once more to my throat. THE END BONUS Nterview With Author – ON HOW IT ALL
BEGAN. SH: So, let’s look at the four different
books first. Twilight—it started with a dream. SM:
Right. Should I tell the story—and get it on SH:
record? Do you want to? SM: I’d like to. This story always sounds really
fake to me. And when my publicist told me I needed to
tell it—because it was a good story for publicity reasons—I felt like a lot
of people were going to say: “You know, that’s ridiculous. She’s making up this
silly thing to try and get attention.” But it’s nothing but the cold hard facts
of how I got started as a writer. Usually, I wake up around four o’clock in
the morning. I think it’s a baby thing—left over from
knowing that somebody needs you—and then I go back to sleep. That’s when I would have
the most vivid dreams—those morning hours. And those are the ones you remember when
you wake up. So the dream was me looking down on this
scene: It was in this meadow, and there was so much light. The dream was very, very colorful. I don’t know if that always comes through
in the writing—that this prism effect was just so brilliant. I was so intrigued when I
woke up. I just sat there and thought: So how does
that end? SH: The sunlight on Edward’s skin? SM: Yeah. There was this beautiful
image, this boy, just glittering with light and
talking to this normal girl. And the dream really was about him. She was also listening, as I was, and he was the one telling the story. It was mostly about how much he wanted to
kill her—and, yet, how much he loved her. In the dream I think I’d gotten most of
the way through what’s chapter 13 now. The part where he recounts how he felt in
each specific previous scene was obviously put in later, because I hadn’t written those
earlier scenes yet. But everything else in that scene was in
mostly what they were actually talking about the dream. Even the analogy about food was I
something that got in my dream. I was so intrigued when I woke up. I just sat there and thought: So how does
that end? Does he kill her? Because it was really close. You know how, in dreams, it’s not just what you hear, but you also kind of feel what’s going on, and you see everything that the person in
your head sees. So I knew how close it was. I mean, there was just a thin, thin line between what he was going to
choose. And so I just wondered: How would they be
have made that work? What would the next step for a couple like this? I had
recently started realizing that my memory was going, and that I could no longer whom I
remember had said something to yesterday. My youngest was just passing one, and the next one was two, and I had an almost-five- year-old. So my brains were like oatmeal— there was
nothing left. And so I knew I was going to forget this
story! That realization was something that really hurt me. You know, when I was a
kid, I always told myself stories, but I write
didn’t them down. I didn’t have to—my memory was great then. So I could always go back and revisit the
one about this, the one about that, and go over and it.
refine But this one was going to get lost if I
didn’t do something about it. So after I got the kids’ breakfast done, I only had two hours before swim lessons. And, even though I should have been doing
other things, I started writing it out. It wasn’t the
dream so much as that day of writing that made me a writer. It wasn’t the so
dream much as that day of writing that made me a writer. Because the dream
was great, and it was a good story. But if I’d had my memory [laughs] it have
would stayed just a story in my head. And I would have figured out that
everything happened, and told it to myself, but that would it.
have been But writing it down and making it real, and being able to go back and reread the
sentences, was just a revelation to me. It was this amazing experience: Wow! This
is what it’s like to write down stories. I was just hooked—I didn’t want to quit. I used to paint—when I was in high school, particularly. I won a few awards—I was
okay with the watercolors. My mom still has some hanging up in her
house. Slightly embarrassing, but they’re I was
decent. not a great painter. It was not something I should have as a
pursued career, by any stretch of the imagination. I could see a picture in my head, but I could not put it on the canvas the
same way it was in my head. That was always a frustration. When I started writing I immediately had
a breakthrough: I can make it real if I write it, and it’s exactly the way I see
it in my head. I didn’t know I was able to do that. So that was really the experience that me
made a writer, and made me want to continue being one. SH: So you started out writing out the
meadow scene. Where did you go from there? SM: I to the
continued end, chronologically —which I don’t always do
anymore. SH: So you didn’t go back to the because
beginning… you wanted to know what was going to happen next. SM: Yeah. I was just like any reader with a want to
story—you find out what happened. The backstory was for later. I wasn’t to
really that worried about it—I wanted see where it was going to go. So I kept writing. The last chapter just kept getting longer
and longer—and then I made epilogue after epilogue. There were so many things I wanted to why
explore—like this was this way, and why this was that way, and how Bella first met Alice, and what their first impressions were. So I went back and did the beginning, and found it really exciting to be able
to flesh it out and give reasons for everything that had happened later. I had
lettered all my chapters instead of numbering them. So I went back and did A, and I think that I had chapter 13 being E. Because I thought, maybe, five or six of
chapters material would cover the beginning… and then it was twelve, so I was surprised about
that. [Laughs] SH: You were surprised about how
much had really happened beforehand? SM: Yeah, it just kept going on. I was thinking:
Wow, this is taking a long time. And that’s where I finally ended, which was the last sentence in chapter 12. And I knew I had crossed the continent
with the railroad, and this was the golden spike that was
being driven. It was all linked together. And that was
that moment of shock, when I thought: It’s actually long enough
to be considered a book-length thing of some kind. SH: You really didn’t even consider it a
like book until then? SM: No. [Laughs] No, I think if I would have of a
thought it as book, I never would have finished it. I think if I would have thought, halfway in, You know, maybe I can make a
this into book… maybe I could do something with this, the pressure would
have crushed me, and I would have given up. I’m really glad I didn’t think of it that
way. I’m glad I protected myself by just it me
keeping about this personal story for alone. SH: And you were thinking of yourself as
the reader the whole time. SM: Yes, yes. Well, I’m kind of shy, and I obviously had to get over that in a
lot of ways. But the essential Stephenie, who is still
in here, has a really hard time with letting read
people things that she writes. [Laughs] And there’s a lot of enjoyment, which I’m sure you’ve experienced, in you
letting somebody read what write. But there’s also the fear of it—it’s a to
really vulnerable position put yourself in. SH: I was in a creative- writing class If
once and the teacher asked us: we were stranded on a desert island, what two books would we take? And one of
the books I chose was a notebook—an empty notebook—so I could write stories. And there was a classmate who said: “If a
you were on desert island by yourself, why would you write stories?” And I Why
thought: are you in this class? [SM laughs] Because if the only purpose you have for
writing is for someone else to read them, then why would you do this? It didn’t to
make sense me. But there is something extraordinary for
about writing yourself and then sharing that. SM: I’ve never thought of the desert-
island story. But that would be the perfect writing
conditions, as far as I’m concerned. That would be
great. I wouldn’t want a spiral notebook, though—I’d want a laptop. Typing is so
much better. I can’t read my own handwriting half the
time. SH: So you started immediately on the
computer, when you started writing this? SM: Yeah. It’s kind of funny to know exactly what a
day you started being writer! SH: Now, how long was it from when you wrote down
the dream until you finished the first draft? SM: I wrote down the dream on June
second. I had it all marked on my calendar: the
first day of my summer diet; the first day of the swim lessons. It’s kind of funny to know exactly what a
day you started being writer! And I finished it around my brother’s wedding, which was—he just had his anniversary— I
think it was the twenty-ninth of August? SH: So this was done in less than three an of
months—just outpouring words. SM: Yeah. SH: Was the story going through
your head all day long, even when you weren’t writing? SM: Even I
when was asleep—even when I was awake. I couldn’t hold conversations with people. All my friends just thought that I had
dropped them, because I lived in my own world for a
whole summer. But here was this really hot, muggy, nasty summer. And when I looked on
back it later, it seemed like I’d spent the whole summer
in a cool, green place, because that’s how distant
my brain was from what was really going on. I wasn’t there—which is sad. [Laughs] I
was physically there for my kids, and I took care of them. And I had my little ones, one on my leg and one on my lap, most of the time I was writing. Luckily, the TV was behind me [laughs] so
they could lean on my shoulder, you know, watch Blue’s Clues while I was
typing. But I don’t think you can keep up that of
kind concentrated effort for more than a summer. You have to find some balance
eventually. SH: You have to come up for air. SM: Yeah. SH: How did you? You’re so busy
as a mom. Every moment of the day, with three kids,
little is occupied. Suddenly, you’re inserting
this huge other effort into it. How did you allow yourself to do that? A
SM: lot of the time it didn’t feel like it was a choice. Once I got started writing, it felt like
there was so much that I had been keeping inside for so long. It was a that
creative outlet was the best one I’ve ever found. SH: Not just this story. But very active storytelling and creating, I’m sure, had been percolating in you for
years. SM: It was a creative outlet that was the
best one I’ve ever found. I’ve done other creative things: birthday
cakes and really great Halloween costumes, if I do say so myself. I was always looking for ways to express
creatively myself. And it was always kind of a frustrating
thing—it was never enough. Being a mom, especially when kids are get
younger—when they older, it’s a lot easier—you have to be about
them every minute. And a lot of who Stephenie is was away.
slipping SH: Yeah. SM: The writing brought that in
back with such force that it was just an obsession I couldn’t… I couldn’t be
away from it. And that was, I think, kind of the dam
bursting, and that huge surge at first. And then I learned to manage it. SH: You would have to. But what a way to
tremendous start! SM: It was. It felt really good—it felt really, really good. And I think when you find do
something that you can that makes you feel that way, you just grasp on to it. SH: So you had never written a short
story before. SM: I had not ever considered writing
seriously. When I was in high school, I thought of some stories that might be a
good book, but I didn’t take it seriously, and I never said: “Gosh, I’m going to do
that.” I considered it momentarily— the same way
I considered being a professional ballerina. SH: Right. SM: Oh, and I was going to be
so good [SH laughs] in my Nutcracker. I would have been fantastic—
except that, obviously, I have no rhythmic skill, or the build for a ballerina, at all. [SH laughs] So it was like one of
those nonsensical things—like wanting to be a dryad. And then, when I was in college, I actually wrote a couple chapters of I
something… because think it’s the law: When you’re an English major, you have to consider an
being author as a career. But it was a ridiculous thing. I mean, there’s no way you can make a as
living a writer— everybody knows that. And, really, it’s too hard to become an a
editor— that’s just not practical solution. If you’re going to support yourself, you have to think realistically. You know, I was going to go to law school. I knew I could do that. I knew that if I worked hard, I’d be kind of guaranteed that I could at
least get a decent job somewhere that would pay the bills. There’s no guarantee
like that with writing, or anything in the publishing industry. You’re not guaranteed that you will be to
able feed yourself if you go down that path, and so I would have never it.
considered I was—I still am—a very practical person. SH: So you really had to go into it from
the side… by fooling yourself that you’re not actually writing a book. SM: I think there was this subconscious
thing going on that was protecting me from thinking of the story in a way that would keep me
from being able to finish it. I always needed that extra fantasy world. I had to have another world I could be in
at the same time. SH: Right. But, of course, you were a
reader. You’ve been an avid reader for your whole
life. SM: That was always my favorite thing, until I found writing. My kids and my to
husband used tease me, because my hand would kind of naturally
form this sort of bookholder [SH laughs], this claw for holding books. Because I in
had the baby one arm and the book in the other—with the bottle tucked under
my chin and the phone on my shoulder. [Laughs] You know, the Octopus Mom. But I always had a book. I always needed that extra fantasy world. I had to have another world I could be in
at the same time. And so, with writing, I just found a way
to have another world, and then to be able to be a lot more a of
part it than as a reader. SH: I think it’s part of
multitasking. I wonder if most writers—I know moms have
to be this way, but most writers, too—have to have two on
things going at once just to stay entertained. SM: Exactly. [Laughs] SH: It’s not that
I’m unsatisfied, because I love my life. I’m a mom, too, of small kids—and I love my I also
husband—but need something else beyond that. I need another story to take me away. SM: You know, it’s funny. As I’ve become
a writer, I started looking at other writers and do
how they things, and everybody’s very different. I read
Atonement recently, and I was interested in the way Ian about
McEwan writes being a writer through the character’s standpoint…. She’s always
seeing another story. She’s doing one thing—but, then, in her
head, it becomes something else, and it turns
into another story. It’s kind of like what you were saying to
about writers needing that extra reality escape to. I think that writers maybe do have
just that need for more than one reality. [Laughs] SH: You know, we’re not really a
sure if it’s insanity or it’s superpower. SM: But it’s an insanity that doesn’t
hurt anybody. SH: Right. It’s kind of friendly, cozy, fuzzy insanity. ON THE WRITING SH:
PROCESS I think you must write much better first drafts than I do. SM: I doubt that. SH: Really? Are they pretty bad? SM: I
think so. I have to go over them again and again, because I don’t always flesh it out
enough. I write it through so quickly that I have
to go back and add things. I tend to use the same words a lot, and I have to consciously go back and out
take things like that. And I don’t always get them. My first drafts are scary. And I cannot a
read page of anything I’ve written without making five changes— that’s my average. SH: How do you go about rewriting? With
Twilight, did you send it off immediately, or did you go back and start revising it?
SM: I probably read it, I don’t know, fifty to a hundred times I
before sent it anywhere. And I cannot read a page of anything I’ve
written without making five changes— that’s my average. So even now that Twilight is
“finished”— quote- unquote—oh, I’d love to revise it. I could do such a
better job now. And I have a hard time rereading it. Because if I read it on the computer, I want to go in and change things—and it
drives me crazy that I can’t. SH: Yeah. I try not to read anything that
I’ve already published. SM: If I read it in the book form, I can usually relax and kind of enjoy it. I like to experience the stories again, because I see it like I did the first I
time saw it. But sometimes it’s hard not to be like, “Oh, I hate that now. Why did I do it
that way?” [Laughs] SH: That would be writers’ hell:
You’re continually faced with a manuscript that you wrote years ago and not allowed to change it. SM: [Laughs] Well, then, that’s every
writer’s reality, right? [Laughs] SH: I don’t know if you
feel this way, but once a book is written and out of my
hands and out there, I no longer feel like I wrote it. I don’t feel like I can even claim the
story anymore. I feel like now it belongs out there, with the readers. SM: I feel that way the
about hardbound copy on the shelf. There is a disassociation there. If I at
look it on a shelf, and it seems very distant and cold and
important, I don’t feel like it’s something that to
belongs me. When I read it, it does. SH: I guess I haven’t reread my books. I listen to the audiobooks, actually—one
time for each book—and I have enjoyed that. The people who did my audiobooks are a
full cast, so it’s like this play, almost. SM: Oh, that’s so cool. SH: They say than
things differently I would have, but instead of being wigged out by it, I actually like it. Because it’s as I’m a
though hearing new story, and I’m hearing it for the first time. SM: See, I can’t ignore my mistakes as I
much when hear it on audio. I have tried to listen to my books on
audio, and I cannot do it. Because I hear the in
awkwardness a phrase when it’s spoken aloud, and I just think: Oh, gosh! I shouldn’t have phrased it that
way. And there’ll be other things where I hear
the mistakes a lot louder than when I read through it and kind of skip over my
them with eyes. That was one of my favorite parts— it.
reading SH: Now, by the time you finished
Twilight, you thought, This is a book—and then you
started to revise. Did you revise just to, like you said, relive the story? Or did you have a SM:
purpose? Well, while I was writing I would revise while
I was going. I’d start and go back and read what I’d I
written up to that point before started. And some days I’d spend the day
whole just making changes and adding things to what I’d written. That was one of my it.
favorite parts— reading That surprised me, you know…. But then
it’s the book that’s perfect for you, because you wrote it for yourself, and so it’s everything that you want it
to be. And when I put the “golden spike” into it, I looked at it and felt… kind of
shocked that I’d finished it. And then I thought maybe there was a I’d
reason done all this, that I was supposed to go forward with
this. Maybe there was some greater purpose, and I was supposed to do something with
it. Because it was such an odd thing for me, to write a book over the summer; it was
so odd for me to feel so compelled about it. The one person who I
knew what was doing was my big sister Emily. But my sister’s so: Everything’s a
wonderful! Everything’s perfect! You shouldn’t change single word! [SH laughs] She’s so supportive; I knew that
it was not a big risk to let her see it. So it was the combination of
thinking, I finished this! and Emily saying, “Well, you have to try and publish it. You have to do it.” I don’t know how many
times we talked when she’d say, “Stephenie, have you sent anything out
yet?” So then I revised with a purpose. And I revised with a sense of total Oh my
embarrassment: gosh. If anyone ever sees this I’ll be so
humiliated. I can’t do it. And then Emily would call
again, and again I’d feel this sense like: Maybe
I’m supposed to. Then I started doing all the research, you know… like looking for an agent. I didn’t know that writers had agents. I thought only athletes and movie stars
did that. So that was intimidating and off-putting:
I need an agent? This sounds complicated. Then I had to find out how to write
literary queries. And summing up my story in ten sentences
was the most painful thing for me. SH: Horrible. SM: It does not work well. [Laughs] And it was also pretty painful
having to put out this letter that says: “Hi, this is who I am; this is what I’ve this
written; is what it’s about. I have absolutely no experience, or any I
reason why think that you should actually pick this up, because who am I? Thank you very
much, Stephenie Meyer.” [Laughs] That was hard. And sending them out—I don’t want to that
remember often. Because you know how you kind of blank
out things that are unpleasant— like childbirth and stuff? It was such a hard thing to do. Back in the neighborhood where I lived at
the time, you couldn’t put mail in your stole it—so
mailbox—kids you had to drive out and go put it in a real mailbox. And to this day I can’t even go by that
corner without reliving the nauseating terror that was in my stomach when I mailed
those queries. SH: Wow. SM: See, I didn’t take creative-
writing classes like you. I didn’t take the classes because I knew
someone was going to read what I would write. I didn’t worry about the writing
part—it was letting someone else read it. My whole life that was a huge terror of
mine: having someone know what goes on inside my head. With every book, I always see the part that I think people
are going to get mad about, or the part that’s going to get mocked. SH: So how have you? Because, obviously, millions of people now have
read what you wrote. Is it still terrifying for you, every time you put a book out? SM: Yeah…
and with good reason. Because the world has changed—and the way
books are received is different now. People are very vocal. And I do not have
a lot of calluses on my creative soul—every blow feels like the first one. I have not learned how to take that or it
lightly let roll off of me. I know it’s something I need to learn I
before go mad—but it’s not something that I’ve perfected. And so it’s hard, even when you know it’s coming. You don’t know where it’s coming from—a
lot of them are sucker punches. With every book, I always see the part I
that think people are going to get mad about, or the part that’s going to
get mocked. With Twilight, I thought: Oh gosh. People are just going to rip me apart for
this—if anybody picks it up. Which they’re not going to, because going
they’re to read the back and say: A book about vampires? Oh, come on—it’s been so
done. So I knew it was coming. But there were always some things I that
wasn’t expecting people wouldn’t like. I mean, with everything you put out, you just have to know: There are going to
be people who really like it, and that’s going to feel really good. But there are going to be people who that
really dislike things are very personal to me, and I’m just going to have to take it. SH: But it’s so terrifying. I don’t know
how you even have the courage to do it every time. The book of mine that I to
thought was going be my simplest, happiest book, just a sweet little fun
book that people would enjoy—that was the one that got slammed the hardest. Like you said, it was things I never could have that
anticipated people didn’t like. As I look back on it, I think if I had a chance, I would take those parts out, or change those things that people hated. But I didn’t know at the time. And so now, as I’m writing another book—I
know there are things that people are going to hate. But I don’t know what they are. [SM laughs] If I only knew what they were, I would be sorely tempted to change them
to try and please everyone! I do the very best I can, but you can never what
anticipate it is that people are going to react to. SM: See, I have a very to
different reaction that, because I can’t change it—it is the way
it is. I mean, there are things I can do in I
editing—and can polish the writing. I know I can always do better with that. And I know that, even in the final form, if I could have another three months to
work on it, I would never stop polishing, because I
can always make every word more important. But I just can’t change what happens, because that’s the way it is. That’s the story: Who the people are what
dictates happens to them. I mean, there are outside forces that can
come in, but how the characters respond to them to
eventually determines where they’re going be. Once you know who they are, there’s no way to change what their is—it
future just is what it is. And so my reaction, when the criticism is
really bad and really hard, is: I wish I would have kept this in my
computer. I should have just held on to this work
and have it be mine alone. Because sometimes I wonder: Is it worth
it to share it? But then you feel like you’re not doing your characters a with
service that—they deserve to live more fully, in someone else’s mind. Yes, I know I SH:
sound crazy! [Laughs] No. I totally, totally understand that. I how
remember hearing writers talk about their characters are almost alive, and almost have a will of their
own. And I thought they were kinda full of [SM
crap laughs] but there is something to it. I think that it’s a balance, though. There’s the idea of these that in
characters are alive my mind, and then there’s me, the author. And I have some power to control the
story, and to try and make it a strong story—but, then, the characters also have some power
to say no. SM: Yeah. You can’t change who they are
to make the story go easier. SH: For me, writing is finding a balance
between that sort of transcendental story and my own power of writing—not letting myself
overwrite them too much, and not letting them overrun me. SM: Yeah. See, I find that difficult—
because, to me, you create a character, and you define them, and you make them
who they are. And you get them into a shape where they
are final. Their story isn’t, but they are who they
are—and they do feel very real. You can’t change who they are to make the
story go easier. So sometimes things happen in the story
because my character, being who he is, can’t do anything
different. I’ve written him so tightly into who he I
is that cannot change his course of action now, without feeling like: Well, that’s not in character— that’s not what
he would do. There’s only one course now. And it’s
sometimes hard, when the course goes a way that’s to
difficult write. Congratulations! You did it! You’ve the
finished book, which means you’re already one step ahead! How was your speed reading experience? Do you
feel the difference? Share your thoughts in the comments – I’d love to hear from you! Every book
you read makes you even faster! Check out the playlist for more great books and
keep going! ww.youtube.com/@VideoReading ***

Did you know that ‘Twilight’ changed the landscape of young adult fiction forever? Let’s explore why it still matters 20 years later!