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 slow
social life — but there were a 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
red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my
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 school had 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 golden in 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 fingers a strand that 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 it —
no need to 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
conversation with 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 were as well.
"I think… and if you ever repeat what I'm saying right now I 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 hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him
in the right direction.
When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She,
Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to 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 what I
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 for the euphoric mood I 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 the way to 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
anticipation to 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 slither down 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 bothering to pretend to listen
anymore.
We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the
empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed
that Mike held the chair out 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 listen instead of 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 before I
went out 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 on — but my 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 backlog of 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 gave up on that.
It's sunny outside today - I know, I'm shocked, too - so I'm going to go
outside and soak up as much vitamin D 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 came with me 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 linen
cupboard at 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 three that the hero of
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 in the late eighteenth
century? I 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 nothing but 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
touched my 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 the now-damp quilt and my 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 stepping out of
his boots when I 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
anything on I wanted to 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 wouldn't have to 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 sandwiches in the fridge, okay?
Right on top."
It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I
grimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue
V-neck blouse — something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.
I had planned my arrival at school so that I 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 couldn't keep little sprouts of
hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I
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 could stop glancing over my shoulder,
hoping to see him appearing out of the blue the way he 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 shopping as well. I refused to think that I might be
shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the
earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn't cancel without at least telling
me.
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.
===========================================================================
8. PORT ANGELES
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 girls' night out, and the estrogen
rush was invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs while Jessica
jabbered on 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
