Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in 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 feeling
that 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 by what I said, for some reason I couldn't imagine.
His face was such a distraction that I tried not to look at it any more
than courtesy absolutely demanded.
"Why did you come here, then?"
No one had asked me that — not straight out like he did, demanding.
"It's… complicated."
"I think I 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 mother got 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 continued to 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 him? He 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 staring at 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 tongue like a
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 talking to 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 explained my dreary life 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 through the microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable.
When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as swiftly and as gracefully
from the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared
after him in amazement.
Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my 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 done the 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 RE.
didn't do much to hold my attention, either. Mike was on my team today.
He chivalrously covered my position as well as 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
caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped my jacket,
put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could 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 intently in 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
brake in 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.
===========================================================================
3. PHENOMENON
When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different.
It was the light. It was still the gray-green light of a cloudy day in
the forest, but it was clearer somehow. I realized there was no 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 solid — coating the needles on the trees in
fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick.
I had enough trouble not falling down when the 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 aloneness instead of 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 because I would see 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 he lie about
his eyes? I 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 from my 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 still thought of 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 behavior and 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 walked to 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
make my 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 out from a 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 pinning me to 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 protectively
in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the
large hands fitting providentially into a 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 my
legs around like a 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 silent for 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 holding me 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 centered above my left ear.
"Ow," I said, surprised.
"That's what I thought." His voice, amazingly, sounded like he was
suppressing laughter.
