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 dresses after a bit, to spare
her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.
Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, 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 department store 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 go with a 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 turning to 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 accident? That he 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 both of 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 control my 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
much shorter and easier than similar trips I'd taken with Renée at home.
I guess there was something to be said for limited choices.
We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I
merely watched and 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 was trying on 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 counter and we 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 never match anything but 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 Italian restaurant on the
boardwalk, but the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as 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 pointed out.
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
spiritual healing. I didn't even go inside. Through the glass I could see
a 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 were filling up with
end-of-the-workday traffic, and hoped I was headed toward downtown. I
wasn't paying as much attention as I should to 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 another road, 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 and
try my luck on a different street on my way back to the boardwalk.
A group of four men turned around the corner I 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 weren't too many
years older than I was. They were joking loudly among themselves,
laughing raucously and punching each other's arms. I scooted as far to
the inside of the sidewalk as 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 faster toward the 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 corner with a 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 barbed wire protecting some
kind of engine parts storage yard. I'd wandered far past the part of Port
Angeles that I, 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 spoken to me. I turned my head forward at once,
quickening my pace. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made
me shiver again. My purse was on a shoulder strap and I 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 was — still in my duffle
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" dropping my
bag 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 listened intently to 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 speeding up, 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 behind me,
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 staring
at 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 intersection I was heading for, and I
exhaled in relief. There would be more people around once I got off this
deserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.
And skidded to a stop.
The street was lined on both sides by blank, doorless, windowless walls.
I could see in the distance, two intersections down, streetlamps, cars,
and 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 froze dead on
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 side of 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 quiet and 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 how much
volume I 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 wall as I 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 remember through my panic what
little self-defense I knew. Heel of the hand thrust upward, hopefully
