The Twilight Saga Collection

by Stephenie Meyer

  “Well, your father is in the waiting room — you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all.”

  “Can’t I go back to school?” I asked, imagining Charlie trying to be attentive.

  “Maybe you should take it easy today.”

  I glanced at Edward. “Does he get to go to school?”

  “Someone has to spread the good news that we survived,” Edward said smugly.

  “Actually,” Dr. Cullen corrected, “most of the school seems to be in the waiting room.”

  “Oh no,” I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

  Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to stay?”

  “No, no!” I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly — I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked concerned.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him again. No need to tell him my balance problems had nothing to do with hitting my head.

  “Take some Tylenol for the pain,” he suggested as he steadied me.

  “It doesn’t hurt that bad,” I insisted.

  “It sounds like you were extremely lucky,” Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed my chart with a flourish.

  “Lucky Edward happened to be standing next to me,” I amended with a hard glance at the subject of my statement.

  “Oh, well, yes,” Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Then he looked away, at Tyler, and walked to the next bed. My intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it.

  “I’m afraid that you’ll have to stay with us just a little bit longer,” he said to Tyler, and began checking his cuts.

  As soon as the doctor’s back was turned, I moved to Edward’s side.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I hissed under my breath. He took a step back from me, his jaw suddenly clenched.

  “Your father is waiting for you,” he said through his teeth.

  I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler.

  “I’d like to speak with you alone, if you don’t mind,” I pressed.

  He glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room. I nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun around to face me.

  “What do you want?” he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold.

  His unfriendliness intimidated me. My words came out with less severity than I’d intended. “You owe me an explanation,” I reminded him.

  “I saved your life — I don’t owe you anything.”

  I flinched back from the resentment in his voice. “You promised.”

  “Bella, you hit your head, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” His tone was cutting.

  My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my head.”

  He glared back. “What do you want from me, Bella?”

  “I want to know the truth,” I said. “I want to know why I’m lying for you.”

  “What do you think happened?” he snapped.

  It came out in a rush.

  “All I know is that you weren’t anywhere near me — Tyler didn’t see you, either, so don’t tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both — and it didn’t, and your hands left dents in the side of it — and you left a dent in the other car, and you’re not hurt at all — and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up. . . .” I could hear how crazy it sounded, and I couldn’t continue. I was so mad I could feel the tears coming; I tried to force them back by grinding my teeth together.

  He was staring at me incredulously. But his face was tense, defensive.

  “You think I lifted a van off you?” His tone questioned my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor.

  I merely nodded once, jaw tight.

  “Nobody will believe that, you know.” His voice held an edge of derision now.

  “I’m not going to tell anybody.” I said each word slowly, carefully controlling my anger.

  Surprise flitted across his face. “Then why does it matter?”

  “It matters to me,” I insisted. “I don’t like to lie — so there’d better be a good reason why I’m doing it.”

  “Can’t you just thank me and get over it?”

  “Thank you.” I waited, fuming and expectant.

  “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

  “No.”

  “In that case . . . I hope you enjoy disappointment.”

  We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to keep myself focused. I was in danger of being distracted by his livid, glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

  “Why did you even bother?” I asked frigidly.

  He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable.

  “I don’t know,” he whispered.

  And then he turned his back on me and walked away.

  I was so angry, it took me a few minutes until I could move. When I could walk, I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway.

  The waiting room was more unpleasant than I’d feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Charlie rushed to my side; I put up my hands.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me,” I assured him sullenly. I was still aggravated, not in the mood for chitchat.

  “What did the doctor say?”

  “Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home.” I sighed. Mike and Jessica and Eric were all there, beginning to converge on us. “Let’s go,” I urged.

  Charlie put one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and led me to the glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends, hoping to convey that they didn’t need to worry anymore. It was a huge relief — the first time I’d ever felt that way — to get into the cruiser.

  We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew Charlie was there. I was positive that Edward’s defensive behavior in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could hardly believe I’d witnessed.

  When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke.

  “Um . . . you’ll need to call Renée.” He hung his head, guilty.

  I was appalled. “You told Mom!”

  “Sorry.”

  I slammed the cruiser’s door a little harder than necessary on my way out.

  My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least thirty times before she would calm down. She begged me to come home — forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment — but her pleas were easier to resist than I would have thought. I was consumed by the mystery Edward presented. And more than a little obsessed by Edward himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I wasn’t as eager to escape Forks as I should be, as any normal, sane person would be.

  I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Charlie continued to watch me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves. I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. They did help, and, as the pain eased, I drifted to sleep.

  That was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.

  4. INVITATIONS

  IN MY DREAM IT WAS VERY DARK, AND WHAT DIM LIGHT there was seemed to be radiating from Edward’s skin. I couldn’t see his face, just his back as he walked away from me, leaving me in the blackness. No matter how fast I ran, I couldn’t catch up to him; no matter how loud I called, he never turned. Troubled, I woke in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. After that, he was in my dreams nearly every night, but always on the periphery, never within reach.

  The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing.

  To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week. Tyler Crowley was impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me so
mehow. I tried to convince him what I wanted more than anything else was for him to forget all about it — especially since nothing had actually happened to me — but he remained insistent. He followed me between classes and sat at our now-crowded lunch table. Mike and Eric were even less friendly toward him than they were to each other, which made me worry that I’d gained another unwelcome fan.

  No one seemed concerned about Edward, though I explained over and over that he was the hero — how he had pulled me out of the way and had nearly been crushed, too. I tried to be convincing. Jessica, Mike, Eric, and everyone else always commented that they hadn’t even seen him there till the van was pulled away.

  I wondered to myself why no one else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly, impossibly saving my life. With chagrin, I realized the probable cause — no one else was as aware of Edward as I always was. No one else watched him the way I did. How pitiful.

  Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Cullens and the Hales sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of them, especially Edward, glanced my way anymore.

  When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up — skin stretched even whiter over the bones — did I wonder if he wasn’t quite as oblivious as he appeared.

  He wished he hadn’t pulled me from the path of Tyler’s van — there was no other conclusion I could come to.

  I wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident I tried. The last time I’d seen him, outside the ER, we’d both been so furious. I still was angry that he wouldn’t trust me with the truth, even though I was keeping my part of the bargain flawlessly. But he had in fact saved my life, no matter how he’d done it. And, overnight, the heat of my anger faded into awed gratitude.

  He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting him to turn toward me. He showed no sign that he realized I was there.

  “Hello, Edward,” I said pleasantly, to show him I was going to behave myself.

  He turned his head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, nodded once, and then looked the other way.

  And that was the last contact I’d had with him, though he was there, a foot away from me, every day. I watched him sometimes, unable to stop myself — from a distance, though, in the cafeteria or parking lot. I watched as his golden eyes grew perceptibly darker day by day. But in class I gave no more notice that he existed than he showed toward me. I was miserable. And the dreams continued.

  Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my e-mails alerted Renée to my depression, and she called a few times, worried. I tried to convince her it was just the weather that had me down.

  Mike, at least, was pleased by the obvious coolness between me and my lab partner. I could see he’d been worried that Edward’s daring rescue might have impressed me, and he was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect. He grew more confident, sitting on the edge of my table to talk before Biology class started, ignoring Edward as completely as he ignored us.

  The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Mike was disappointed he’d never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but pleased that the beach trip would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the weeks passed.

  Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon — she called the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike to the girls’ choice spring dance in two weeks.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind . . . you weren’t planning to ask him?” she persisted when I told her I didn’t mind in the least.

  “No, Jess, I’m not going,” I assured her. Dancing was glaringly outside my range of abilities.

  “It will be really fun.” Her attempt to convince me was halfhearted. I suspected that Jessica enjoyed my inexplicable popularity more than my actual company.

  “You have fun with Mike,” I encouraged.

  The next day, I was surprised that Jessica wasn’t her usual gushing self in Trig and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by my side between classes, and I was afraid to ask her why. If Mike had turned her down, I was the last person she would want to tell.

  My fears were strengthened during lunch when Jessica sat as far from Mike as possible, chatting animatedly with Eric. Mike was unusually quiet.

  Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign. But he didn’t broach the subject until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically aware of Edward sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely an invention of my imagination.

  “So,” Mike said, looking at the floor, “Jessica asked me to the spring dance.”

  “That’s great.” I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. “You’ll have a lot of fun with Jessica.”

  “Well . . .” He floundered as he examined my smile, clearly not happy with my response. “I told her I had to think about it.”

  “Why would you do that?” I let disapproval color my tone, though I was relieved he hadn’t given her an absolute no.

  His face was bright red as he looked down again. Pity shook my resolve.

  “I was wondering if . . . well, if you might be planning to ask me.”

  I paused for a moment, hating the wave of guilt that swept through me. But I saw, from the corner of my eye, Edward’s head tilt reflexively in my direction.

  “Mike, I think you should tell her yes,” I said.

  “Did you already ask someone?” Did Edward notice how Mike’s eyes flickered in his direction?

  “No,” I assured him. “I’m not going to the dance at all.”

  “Why not?” Mike demanded.

  I didn’t want to get into the safety hazards that dancing presented, so I quickly made new plans.

  “I’m going to Seattle that Saturday,” I explained. I needed to get out of town anyway — it was suddenly the perfect time to go.

  “Can’t you go some other weekend?”

  “Sorry, no,” I said. “So you shouldn’t make Jess wait any longer — it’s rude.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he mumbled, and turned, dejected, to walk back to his seat. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the guilt and sympathy out of my head. Mr. Banner began talking. I sighed and opened my eyes.

  And Edward was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.

  I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. There was no question of me looking away. My hands started to shake.

  “Mr. Cullen?” the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn’t heard.

  “The Krebs Cycle,” Edward answered, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mr. Banner.

  I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me, trying to find my place. Cowardly as ever, I shifted my hair over my right shoulder to hide my face. I couldn’t believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me — just because he’d happened to look at me for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. I couldn’t allow him to have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.

  I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible, at least not to let him know that I was aware of him. When the bell rang at last, I turned my back to him to gather my things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual.

  “Bella?” His voice shouldn’t have been so familiar to me, as if I’d known the sound of it all my life rather than for just a few short weeks.

  I turned slowly, unwillingly. I didn’t want to feel what I knew I would feel when I looked at his too-perfect face. My expression was wary when I finall
y turned to him; his expression was unreadable. He didn’t say anything.

  “What? Are you speaking to me again?” I finally asked, an unintentional note of petulance in my voice.

  His lips twitched, fighting a smile. “No, not really,” he admitted.

  I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth. He waited.

  “Then what do you want, Edward?” I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was easier to talk to him coherently that way.

  “I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere. “I’m being very rude, I know. But it’s better this way, really.”

  I opened my eyes. His face was very serious.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, my voice guarded.

  “It’s better if we’re not friends,” he explained. “Trust me.”

  My eyes narrowed. I’d heard that before.

  “It’s too bad you didn’t figure that out earlier,” I hissed through my teeth. “You could have saved yourself all this regret.”

  “Regret?” The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. “Regret for what?”

  “For not just letting that stupid van squish me.”

  He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief.

  When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. “You think I regret saving your life?”

  “I know you do,” I snapped.

  “You don’t know anything.” He was definitely mad.

  I turned my head sharply away from him, clenching my jaw against all the wild accusations I wanted to hurl at him. I gathered my books together, then stood and walked to the door. I meant to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of course I caught the toe of my boot on the doorjamb and dropped my books. I stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. He was there; he’d already stacked them into a pile. He handed them to me, his face hard.

  “Thank you,” I said icily.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “You’re welcome,” he retorted.

  I straightened up swiftly, turned away from him again, and stalked off to Gym without looking back.

  Gym was brutal. We’d moved on to basketball. My team never passed me the ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people with me. Today I was worse than usual because my head was so filled with Edward. I tried to concentrate on my feet, but he kept creeping back into my thoughts just when I really needed my balance.