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 redbrown
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 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
come to 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 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 fivethirty
in the morning.
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 old computer.
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.
Vampire.
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, 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 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, cold-skinned, 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 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
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-firstcentury
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 true?
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 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 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 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 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 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.
Baby,top.
Dead & gone. || 11:26 PM