And then, she’d also heard me trying to get out of our shared biology class. Shemust have wondered, after seeing my expression, whether she were the cause. A normalgirl would have asked around, compared her experience to others, looked for commonground that would explain my behavior so she didn’t feel singled out. Humans wereconstantly desperate to feel normal, to fit in. To blend in with everyone else aroundthem, like a featureless flock of sheep. The need was particularly strong during theinsecure adolescent years. This girl would be no exception to that rule.
But no one at all took any notice of us sitting here, at our normal table. Bellamust be exceptionally shy, if she’d confided in no one. Perhaps she had spoken to herfather, maybe that was the strongest relationship…though that seemed unlikely, given thefact that she had spent so little time with him throughout her life. She would be closer toher mother. Still, I would have to pass by Chief Swan sometime soon and listen to whathe was thinking.
“Anything new?” Jasper asked.
“Nothing. She…must not have said anything.”
All of them raised an eyebrow at this news.
“Maybe you’re not as scary as you think you are,” Emmett said, chuckling. “I betI could have frightened her better than that.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
“Wonder why…?” He puzzled again over my revelation about the girl’s uniquesilence.
“We’ve been over that. I don’t know.”
“She’s coming in,” Alice murmured then. I felt my body go rigid. “Try to lookhuman.”
“Human, you say?” Emmett asked.
He held up his right fist, twisting his fingers to reveal the snowball he’d saved inhis palm. Of course it had not melted there. He’d squeezed it into a lumpy block of ice.
He had his eyes on Jasper, but I saw the direction of his thoughts. So did Alice, ofcourse. When he abruptly hurled the ice chunk at her, she flicked it away with a casualflutter of her fingers. The ice ricocheted across the length of the cafeteria, too fast to bevisible to human eyes, and shattered with a sharp crack against the brick wall. The brickcracked, too.
The heads in that corner of the room all turned to stare at the pile of broken ice onthe floor, and then swiveled to find the culprit. They didn’t look further than a few tablesaway. No one looked at us.
“Very human, Emmett,” Rosalie said scathingly. “Why don’t you punch throughthe wall while you’re at it?”
“It would look more impressive if you did it, baby.”
I tried to pay attention to them, keeping a grin fixed on my face like I was part oftheir banter. I did not allow myself to look toward the line where I knew she wasstanding. But that was all that I was listening to.
I could hear Jessica’s impatience with the new girl, who seemed to be distracted,too, standing motionless in the moving line. I saw, in Jessica’s thoughts, that BellaSwan’s cheeks were once more colored bright pink with blood.
I pulled in short, shallow breaths, ready to quit breathing if any hint of her scenttouched the air near me.
Mike Newton was with the two girls. I heard both his voices, mental and verbal,when he asked Jessica what was wrong with the Swan girl. I didn’t like the way histhoughts wrapped around her, the flicker of already established fantasies that clouded hismind while he watched her start and look up from her reverie like she’d forgotten he wasthere.
“Nothing,” I heard Bella say in that quiet, clear voice. It seemed to ring like a bellover the babble in the cafeteria, but I knew that was just because I was listening for it sointently.
“I’ll just get a soda today,” she continued as she moved to catch up with the line.
I couldn’t help flickering one glance in her direction. She was staring at the floor,the blood slowly fading from her face. I looked away quickly, to Emmett, who laughedat the now pained-looking smile on my face.
You look sick, bro.
I rearranged my features so the expression would seem casual and effortless.
Jessica was wondering aloud about the girl’s lack of appetite. “Aren’t youhungry?”
“Actually, I feel a little sick.” Her voice was lower, but still very clear.
Why did it bother me, the protective concern that suddenly emanated from MikeNewton’s thoughts? What did it matter that there was a possessive edge to them? Itwasn’t my business if Mike Newton felt unnecessarily anxious for her. Perhaps this wasthe way everyone responded to her. Hadn’t I wanted, instinctively, to protect her, too?
Before I’d wanted to kill her, that is…But was the girl ill?
It was hard to judge—she looked so delicate with her translucent skin… Then Irealized that I was worrying, too, just like that dimwitted boy, and I forced myself not tothink about her health.
Regardless, I didn’t like monitoring her through Mike’s thoughts. I switched toJessica’s, watching carefully as the three of them chose which table to sit at. Fortunately,they sat with Jessica’s usual companions, at one of the first tables in the room. Notdownwind, just as Alice had promised.
Alice elbowed me. She’s going to look soon, act human.
I clenched my teeth behind my grin.
“Ease up, Edward,” Emmett said. “Honestly. So you kill one human. That’shardly the end of the world.”
“You would know,” I murmured.
Emmett laughed. “You’ve got to learn to get over things. Like I do. Eternity is along time to wallow in guilt.”
Just then, Alice tossed a smaller handful of ice that she’d been hiding intoEmmett’s unsuspecting face.
He blinked, surprised, and then grinned in anticipation.
“You asked for it,” he said as he leaned across the table and shook his ice-encrusted hair in her direction. The snow, melting in the warm room, flew out from hishair in a thick shower of half-liquid, half-ice.
“Ew!” Rose complained, as she and Alice recoiled from the deluge.
Alice laughed, and we all joined in. I could see in Alice’s head how she’dorchestrated this perfect moment, and I knew that the girl—I should stop thinking of herthat way, as if she were the only girl in the world—that Bella would be watching us laughand play, looking as happy and human and unrealistically ideal as a Norman Rockwellpainting.
Alice kept laughing, and held her tray up as a shield. The girl—Bella must still bestaring at us.
…staring at the Cullens again, someone thought, catching my attention.
I looked automatically toward the unintentional call, realizing as my eyes foundtheir destination that I recognized the voice—I’d been listening to it so much today.
But my eyes slid right past Jessica, and focused on the girl’s penetrating gaze.
She looked down quickly, hiding behind her thick hair again.
What was she thinking? The frustration seemed to be getting more acute as timewent on, rather than dulling. I tried—uncertain in what I was doing for I’d never triedthis before—to probe with my mind at the silence around her. My extra hearing hadalways come to me naturally, without asking; I’d never had to work at it. But Iconcentrated now, trying to break through whatever shield surrounded her.
Nothing but silence.
What is it about her? Jessica thought, echoing my own frustration.
“Edward Cullen is staring at you,” she whispered in the Swan girl’s ear, adding agiggle. There was no hint of her jealous irritation in her tone. Jessica seemed to beskilled at feigning friendship.
I listened, too engrossed, to the girl’s response.
“He doesn’t look angry, does he?” she whispered back.
So she had noticed my wild reaction last week. Of course she had.
The question confused Jessica. I saw my own face in her thoughts as she checkedmy expression, but I did not meet her glance. I was still concentrating on the girl, tryingto hear something. My intent focus didn’t seem to be helping at all.
“No,” Jess told her, and I knew that she wished she could say yes—how it rankledinside her, my staring—though there was no trace of that in her voice. “Should he be?”
“I don’t think he likes me,” the girl whispered back, laying her head down on herarm as if she were suddenly tired. I tried to understand the motion, but I could only makeguesses. Maybe she was tired.
“The Cullens don’t like anybody,” Jess reassured her. “Well, they don’t noticeanybody enough to like them.” They never used to. Her thought was a grumble ofcomplaint. “But he’s still staring at you.”
“Stop looking at him,” the girl said anxiously, lifting her head from her arm tomake sure Jessica obeyed the order.
Jessica giggled, but did as she was asked.
The girl did not look away from her table for the rest of the hour. I thought—though, of course, I could not be sure—that this was deliberate. It seemed like shewanted to look at me. Her body would shift slightly in my direction, her chin wouldbegin to turn, and then she would catch herself, take a deep breath, and stare fixedly atwhoever was speaking.
I ignored the other thoughts around the girl for the most part, as they were not,momentarily, about her. Mike Newton was planning a snow fight in the parking lot afterschool, not seeming to realize that the snow had already shifted to rain. The flutter ofsoft flakes against the roof had become the more common patter of raindrops. Could hereally not hear the change? It seemed loud to me.
When the lunch period ended, I stayed in my seat. The humans filed out, and Icaught myself trying to distinguish the sound of her footsteps from the sound of the rest,as if there was something important or unusual about them. How stupid.
My family made no move to leave, either. They waited to see what I would do.
Would I go to class, sit beside the girl where I could smell the absurdly potentscent of her blood and feel the warmth of her pulse in the air on my skin? Was I strongenough for that? Or had I had enough for one day?
“I…think it’s okay,” Alice said, hesitant. “Your mind is set. I think you’ll makeit through the hour.”
But Alice knew well how quickly a mind could change.
“Why push it, Edward?” Jasper asked. Though he didn’t want to feel smug that Iwas the one who was weak now, I could hear that he did, just a little. “Go home. Take itslow.”
“What’s the big deal?” Emmett disagreed. “Either he will or he won’t kill her.
Might as well get it over with, either way.”
“I don’t want to move yet,” Rosalie complained. “I don’t want to start over.
We’re almost out of high school, Emmett. Finally.”
I was evenly torn on the decision. I wanted, wanted badly, to face this head onrather than running away again. But I didn’t want to push myself too far, either. It hadbeen a mistake last week for Jasper to go so long without hunting; was this just aspointless a mistake?
I didn’t want to uproot my family. None of them would thank me for that.
But I wanted to go to my biology class. I realized that I wanted to see her faceagain.
That’s what decided it for me. That curiosity. I was angry with myself for feelingit. Hadn’t I promised myself that I wouldn’t let the silence of the girl’s mind make meunduly interested in her? And yet, here I was, most unduly interested.
I wanted to know what she was thinking. Her mind was closed, but her eyes werevery open. Perhaps I could read them instead.
“No, Rose, I think it really will be okay,” Alice said. “It’s…firming up. I’mninety-three percent sure that nothing bad will happen if he goes to class.” She looked atme inquisitively, wondering what had changed in my thoughts that made her vision of thefuture more secure.
Would curiosity be enough to keep Bella Swan alive?
Emmett was right, though—why not get it over with, either way? I would facethe temptation head on.
“Go to class,” I ordered, pushing away from the table. I turned and strode awayfrom them without looking back. I could hear Alice’s worry, Jasper’s censure, Emmett’sapproval, and Rosalie’s irritation trailing after me.
I took one last deep breath at the door of the classroom, and then held it in mylungs as I walked into the small, warm space.
I was not late. Mr. Banner was still setting up for today’s lab. The girl sat atmy—at our table, her face down again, staring at the folder she was doodling on. Iexamined the sketch as I approached, interested in even this trivial creation of her mind,but it was meaningless. Just a random scribbling of loops within loops. Perhaps she wasnot concentrating on the pattern, but thinking of something else?
I pulled my chair back with unnecessary roughness, letting it scrape across thelinoleum; humans always felt more comfortable when noise announced someone’sapproach.
I knew she heard the sound; she did not look up, but her hand missed a loop in thedesign she was drawing, making it unbalanced.
Why didn’t she look up? Probably she was frightened. I must be sure to leaveher with a different impression this time. Make her think she’d been imagining thingsbefore.
“Hello,” I said in the quiet voice I used when I wanted to make humans morecomfortable, forming a polite smile with my lips that would not show any teeth.
She looked up then, her wide brown eyes startled—almost bewildered—and fullof silent questions. It was the same expression that had been obstructing my vision forthe last week.
As I stared into those oddly deep brown eyes, I realized that the hate—the hate I’dimagined this girl somehow deserved for simply existing—had evaporated. Notbreathing now, not tasting her scent, it was hard to believe that anyone so vulnerablecould ever justify hatred.
Her cheeks began to flush, and she said nothing.
I kept my eyes on hers, focusing only on their questioning depths, and tried toignore the appetizing color of her skin. I had enough breath to speak for a while longerwithout inhaling.
“My name is Edward Cullen,” I said, though I knew she knew that. It was thepolite way to begin. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must beBella Swan.”
She seemed confused—there was that little pucker between her eyes again. Ittook her half a second longer than it should have for her to respond.
“How do you know my name?” she demanded, and her voice shook just a little.
I must have truly terrified her. This made me feel guilty; she was just sodefenseless. I laughed gently—it was a sound that I knew made humans more at ease.
Again, I was careful about my teeth.
“Oh, I think everyone knows your name.” Surely she must have realized thatshe’d become the center of attention in this monotonous place. “The whole town’s beenwaiting for you to arrive.”
She frowned as if this information was unpleasant. I supposed, being shy as sheseemed to be, attention would seem like a bad thing to her. Most humans felt theopposite. Though they didn’t want to stand out from the herd, at the same time theycraved a spotlight for their individual uniformity.
“No,” she said. “I meant, why did you call me Bella?”
“Do you prefer Isabella?” I asked, perplexed by the fact that I couldn’t see wherethis question was leading. I didn’t understand. Surely, she’d made her preference clearmany times that first day. Were all humans this incomprehensible without the mentalcontext as a guide?
“No, I like Bella,” she answered, leaning her head slightly to one side. Herexpression—if I was reading it correctly—was torn between embarrassment andconfusion. “But I think Charlie—I mean my dad—must call me Isabella behind my back.
That’s what everyone here seems to know me as.” Her skin darkened one shade pinker.
“Oh,” I said lamely, and quickly looked away from her face.
I’d just realized what her questions meant: I had slipped up—made an error. If Ihadn’t been eavesdropping on all the others that first day, then I would have addressedher initially by her full name, just like everyone else. She’d noticed the difference.
I felt a pang of unease. It was very quick of her to pick up on my slip. Quiteastute, especially for someone who was supposed to be terrified by my nearness.
But I had bigger problems than whatever suspicions about me she might bekeeping locked inside her head.
I was out of air. If I were going to speak to her again, I would have to inhale.
It would be hard to avoid speaking. Unfortunately for her, sharing this table madeher my lab partner, and we would have to work together today. It would seem odd—andincomprehensibly rude—for me to ignore her while we did the lab. It would make hermore suspicious, more afraid…I leaned as far away from her as I could without moving my seat, twisting myhead out into the aisle. I braced myself, locking my muscles in place, and then sucked inone quick chest-full of air, breathing through my mouth alone.
Ahh!
It was genuinely painful. Even without smelling her, I could taste her on mytongue. My throat was suddenly in flames again, the craving every bit as strong as thatfirst moment I’d caught her scent last week.
I gritted my teeth together and tried to compose myself.
“Get started,” Mr. Banner commanded.
It felt like it took every single ounce of self-control that I’d achieved in seventyyears of hard work to turn back to the girl, who was staring down at the table, and smile.
“Ladies first, partner?” I offered.
She looked up at my expression and her face went blank, her eyes wide. Wasthere something off in my expression? Was she frightened again? She didn’t speak.
“Or, I could start, if you wish,” I said quietly.
“No,” she said, and her face went from white to red again. “I’ll go first.”
I stared at the equipment on the table, the battered microscope, the box of slides,rather than watch the blood swirl under her clear skin. I took another quick breath,through my teeth, and winced as the taste made my throat ache.
“Prophase,” she said after a quick examination. She started to remove the slide,though she’d barely examined it.
“Do you mind if I look?” Instinctively—stupidly, as if I were one of her kind—Ireached out to stop her hand from removing the slide. For one second, the heat of herskin burned into mine. It was like an electric pulse—surely much hotter than a mereninety-eight point six degrees. The heat shot through my hand and up my arm. Sheyanked her hand out from under mine.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered through my clenched teeth. Needing somewhere to look, Igrasped the microscope and stared briefly into the eyepiece. She was right.
“Prophase,” I agreed.
I was still too unsettled to look at her. Breathing as quietly as I could through mygritted teeth and trying to ignore the fiery thirst, I concentrated on the simple assignment,writing the word on the appropriate line on the lab sheet, and then switching out the firstslide for the next.
What was she thinking now? What had that felt like to her, when I had touchedher hand? My skin must have been ice cold—repulsive. No wonder she was so quiet.
I glanced at the slide.
“Anaphase,” I said to myself as I wrote it on the second line.
“May I?” she asked.
I looked up at her, surprised to see that she was waiting expectantly, one handhalf-stretched toward the microscope. She didn’t look afraid. Did she really think I’dgotten the answer wrong?
I couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful look on her face as I slid the microscopetoward her.
She stared into the eyepiece with an eagerness that quickly faded. The corners ofher mouth turned down.
“Slide three?” she asked, not looking up from the microscope, but holding out herhand. I dropped the next slide into her hand, not letting my skin come anywhere close tohers this time. Sitting beside her was like sitting next to a heat lamp. I could feel myselfwarming slightly to the higher temperature.
She did not look at the slide for long. “Interphase,” she said nonchalantly—perhaps trying a little too hard to sound that way—and pushed the microscope to me.
She did not touch the paper, but waited for me to write the answer. I checked—she wascorrect again.
We finished this way, speaking one word at a time and never meeting each other’seyes. We were the only ones done—the others in the class were having a harder timewith the lab. Mike Newton seemed to be having trouble concentrating—he was trying towatch Bella and me.
Wish he’d stayed wherever he went, Mike thought, eyeing me sulfurously. Hmm,interesting. I hadn’t realized the boy harbored any ill will towards me. This was a newdevelopment, about as recent as the girl’s arrival it seemed. Even more interesting, Ifound—to my surprise—that the feeling was mutual.
I looked down at the girl again, bemused by the wide range of havoc and upheavalthat, despite her ordinary, unthreatening appearance, she was wreaking on my life.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t see what Mike was going on about. She was actuallyrather pretty…in an unusual way. Better than being beautiful, her face was interesting.
Not quite symmetrical—her narrow chin out of balance with her wide cheekbones;extreme in the coloring—the light and dark contrast of her skin and her hair; and thenthere were the eyes, brimming over with silent secrets…Eyes that were suddenly boring into mine.
I stared back at her, trying to guess even one of those secrets.
“Did you get contacts?” she asked abruptly.
What a strange question. “No.” I almost smiled at the idea of improving myeyesight.
“Oh,” she mumbled. “I thought there was something different about your eyes.”
I felt suddenly colder again as I realized that I was apparently not the only oneattempting to ferret out secrets today.
I shrugged, my shoulders stiff, and glared straight ahead to where the teacher wasmaking his rounds.
Of course there was something different about my eyes since the last time she’dstared into them. To prepare myself for today’s ordeal, today’s temptation, I’d spent the entire weekend hunting, satiating my thirst as much as possible, overdoing it really. I’dglutted myself on the blood of animals, not that it made much difference in the face of theoutrageous flavor floating on the air around her. When I’d glared at her last, my eyes hadbeen black with thirst. Now, my body swimming with blood, my eyes were a warmergold. Light amber from my excessive attempt at thirst-quenching.
Another slip. If I’d seen what she’d meant with her question, I could have justtold her yes.
I’d sat beside humans for two years now at this school, and she was the first toexamine me closely enough to note the change in my eye color. The others, whileadmiring the beauty of my family, tended to look down quickly when we returned theirstares. They shied away, blocking the details of our appearances in an instinctiveendeavor to keep themselves from understanding. Ignorance was bliss to the humanmind.
Why did it have to be this girl who would see too much?
Mr. Banner approached our table. I gratefully inhaled the gush of clean air hebrought with him before it could mix with her scent.
“So, Edward,” he said, looking over our answers, “didn’t you think Isabellashould get a chance with the microscope?”
“Bella,” I corrected him reflexively. “Actually, she identified three of the five.”
Mr. Banner’s thoughts were skeptical as he turned to look at the girl. “Have youdone this lab before?”
I watched, engrossed, as she smiled, looking slightly embarrassed.
“Not with onion root.”
“Whitefish blastula?” Mr. Banner probed.
“Yeah.”
This surprised him. Today’s lab was something he’d pulled from a moreadvanced course. He nodded thoughtfully at the girl. “Were you in an advancedplacement program in Phoenix?”
“Yes.”
She was advanced then, intelligent for a human. This did not surprise me.
“Well,” Mr. Banner said, pursing his lips. “I guess it’s good you two are labpartners.” He turned and walked away mumbling, “So the other kids can get a chance tolearn something for themselves,” under his breath. I doubted the girl could hear that.
She began scrawling loops across her folder again.
Two slips so far in one half hour. A very poor showing on my part. Though I hadno idea at all what the girl thought of me—how much did she fear, how much did shesuspect?—I knew I needed to put forth a better effort to leave her with a new impressionof me. Something to better drown her memories of our ferocious last encounter.
“It’s too bad about the snow, isn’t it?” I said, repeating the small talk that I’dheard a dozen students discuss already. A boring, standard topic of conversation. Theweather—always safe.
She stared at me with obvious doubt in her eyes—an abnormal reaction to myvery normal words. “Not really,” she said, surprising me again.
I tried to steer the conversation back to trite paths. She was from a much brighter,warmer place—her skin seemed to reflect that somehow, despite its fairness—and thecold must make her uncomfortable. My icy touch certainly had…“You don’t like the cold,” I guessed.
“Or the wet,” she agreed.
“Forks must be a difficult place for you to live.” Perhaps you should not havecome here, I wanted to add. Perhaps you should go back where you belong.
I wasn’t sure I wanted that, though. I would always remember the scent of herblood—was there any guarantee that I wouldn’t eventually follow after her? Besides, ifshe left, her mind would forever remain a mystery. A constant, nagging puzzle.
“You have no idea,” she said in a low voice, glowering past me for a moment.
Her answers were never what I expected. They made me want to ask morequestions.
“Why did you come here, then?” I demanded, realizing instantly that my tone wastoo accusatory, not casual enough for the conversation. The question sounded rude,prying.
“It’s…complicated.”
She blinked her wide eyes, leaving it at that, and I nearly imploded out ofcuriosity—the curiosity burned as hot as the thirst in my throat. Actually, I found that itwas getting slightly easier to breathe; the agony was becoming more bearable throughfamiliarity.
“I think I can keep up,” I insisted. Perhaps common courtesy would keep heranswering my questions as long as I was rude enough to ask them.
She stared down silently at her hands. This made me impatient; I wanted to putmy hand under her chin and tilt her head up so that I could read her eyes. But it would befoolish of me—dangerous—to touch her skin again.
She looked up suddenly. It was a relief to be able to see the emotions in her eyesagain. She spoke in a rush, hurrying through the words.
“My mother got remarried.”
Ah, this was human enough, easy to understand. Sadness passed through herclear eyes and brought the pucker back between them.
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