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
unravel the 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 the CD again and again, until
I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep.
I opened my eyes to a 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 toward the 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 the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his
"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 come to him.
The wolf growled at my feet.
I took a step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp,
"Trust me," he purred.
I took another step.
The wolf launched himself across the space between me 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
I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots. I was
too uncomfortable to get 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 rubber band 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 the images
I'd been trying so 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 didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even taking
the time to blow-dry my 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
I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service
substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl
of cereal while I 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
pop-up ads. 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.
It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was
a lot to sift through — everything from movies and 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 flashed across the screen. Finally the
screen was finished — simple white background with black text, academiclooking.
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 world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires.
Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons,
of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that,
who is there who believes in vampires? — Rousseau
The rest of 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 responsible for planting taro on 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 that it 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 like
constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children,
and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless
spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded
like the movies I'd seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the
Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood.
Only three entries really caught my attention: the 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, said to 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 coincided with Jacob's stories or 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, coldskinned,
and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.
And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number of
scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading — vampires
couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They
slept in coffins all day and came out only at 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 checking the
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 enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the
only sound to be the squish of 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 could
get 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 pointing them
out to me from the cruiser window in earlier days. There were many I didn't
know, and others I couldn't be sure about because they were so covered in green
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 from the canopy
above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or 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 recent
because it 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
damp seat and 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
sound of 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 thousands of years, and all
the myths and legends of a hundred different lands 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 responded with a 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 slowly —
how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And
the way be
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 vampires?
Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational
justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes. Whether it be
Jacob's cold 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
If Edward was a vampire — I could hardly make myself think the words — then
what should I 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 first was to take his advice: to be smart,
to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go back to ignoring
him as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall
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 despair as I considered that alternative. My
mind rejected the pain, quickly skipping on to the next option.
I could do nothing different. After all, if he was something… sinister, he'd done
nothing to hurt me so far. In fact, I would be a dent in Tyler's fender if 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 was a 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 sharpedged
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
nothing about my 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 twilight under
the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered
and rose quickly from my 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 close around my face, becoming surprised,
as I nearly ran through the 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 confines of the
forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open
spaces through the 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 concentrate on my 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
book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The chills that flashed
up my spine whenever I thought of 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 arriving in
Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window,
stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just
fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be 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 windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins.
Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my
"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 shiny
skin of 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 older than I was now.
I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in 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 tempting fate 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 headed toward
the 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 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
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
"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,
"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
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
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
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.
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,
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
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
"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,
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
"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
"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.
saya naman XD
Oh, a Filipino vampire?? Is that true? anyway...that´s good => Thanks!!
Writing. . .and rewriting. ☆.