The Twilight Saga Collection

by Stephenie Meyer

  “See you,” I replied. He looked at me once more, his round face slightly pouting, and then as he walked slowly through the door, his shoulders slumped. A swell of sympathy washed over me. I pondered seeing his disappointed face again . . . in Gym.

  “Gym,” I groaned.

  “I can take care of that.” I hadn’t noticed Edward moving to my side, but he spoke now in my ear. “Go sit down and look pale,” he muttered.

  That wasn’t a challenge; I was always pale, and my recent swoon had left a light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells always exhausted me.

  I heard Edward speaking softly at the counter.

  “Ms. Cope?”

  “Yes?” I hadn’t heard her return to her desk.

  “Bella has Gym next hour, and I don’t think she feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?” His voice was like melting honey. I could imagine how much more overwhelming his eyes would be.

  “Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?” Ms. Cope fluttered. Why couldn’t I do that?

  “No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won’t mind.”

  “Okay, it’s all taken care of. You feel better, Bella,” she called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.

  “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?” With his back to the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.

  “I’ll walk.”

  I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held the door for me, his smile polite but his eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice — the first time I’d enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky — as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.

  “Thanks,” I said as he followed me out. “It’s almost worth getting sick to miss Gym.”

  “Anytime.” He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

  “So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?” I was hoping he would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn’t picture him loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn’t belong in the same world. But just hoping that he might gave me the first twinge of enthusiasm I’d felt for the outing.

  “Where are you all going, exactly?” He was still looking ahead, expressionless.

  “Down to La Push, to First Beach.” I studied his face, trying to read it. His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally.

  He glanced down at me from the corner of his eye, smiling wryly. “I really don’t think I was invited.”

  I sighed. “I just invited you.”

  “Let’s you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don’t want him to snap.” His eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea more than he should.

  “Mike-schmike.” I muttered, preoccupied by the way he’d said “you and I.” I liked it more than I should.

  We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck. Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, outraged. He was gripping a fistful of my jacket in one hand.

  I was confused. “I’m going home.”

  “Didn’t you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I’m going to let you drive in your condition?” His voice was still indignant.

  “What condition? And what about my truck?” I complained.

  “I’ll have Alice drop it off after school.” He was towing me toward his car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward. He’d probably just drag me along anyway if I did.

  “Let go!” I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me — I stumbled against the passenger door.

  “You are so pushy!” I grumbled.

  “It’s open,” was all he responded. He got in the driver’s side.

  “I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!” I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I’d never put my hood up, so my hair was dripping down my back.

  He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. “Get in, Bella.”

  I didn’t answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the truck before he could catch me. I had to admit, they weren’t good.

  “I’ll just drag you back,” he threatened, guessing my plan.

  I tried to maintain what dignity I could as I got into his car. I wasn’t very successful — I looked like a half-drowned cat and my boots squeaked.

  “This is completely unnecessary,” I said stiffly.

  He didn’t answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give him the silent treatment — my face in full pout mode — but then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.

  “Clair de Lune?” I asked, surprised.

  “You know Debussy?” He sounded surprised, too.

  “Not well,” I admitted. “My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house — I only know my favorites.”

  “It’s one of my favorites, too.” He stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

  I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn’t feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

  “What is your mother like?” he asked me suddenly.

  I glanced over to see him studying me with curious eyes.

  “She looks a lot like me, but she’s prettier,” I said. He raised his eyebrows. “I have too much Charlie in me. She’s more outgoing than I am, and braver. She’s irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she’s a very unpredictable cook. She’s my best friend.” I stopped. Talking about her was making me depressed.

  “How old are you, Bella?” His voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn’t imagine. He’d stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie’s house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.

  “I’m seventeen,” I responded, a little confused.

  “You don’t seem seventeen.”

  His tone was reproachful; it made me laugh.

  “What?” he asked, curious again.

  “My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year.” I laughed, and then sighed. “Well, someone has to be the adult.” I paused for a second. “You don’t seem much like a junior in high school yourself,” I noted.

  He made a face and changed the subject.

  “So why did your mother marry Phil?”

  I was surprised he would remember the name; I’d mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.

  “My mother . . . she’s very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she’s crazy about him.” I shook my head. The attraction was a mystery to me.

  “Do you approve?” he asked.

  “Does it matter?” I countered. “I want her to be happy . . . and he is who she wants.”

  “That’s very generous. . . . I wonder,” he mused.

  “What?”

  “Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?” He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching mine.

  “I-I think so,” I stuttered. “But she’s the parent, after all. It’s a little bit different.”

  “No one too scary then,” he teased.

  I grinned in response. “What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?”

  “That’s one definition, I suppose.”

>   “What’s your definition?”

  But he ignored my question and asked me another. “Do you think that I could be scary?” He raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened his face.

  I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over better. I decided to go with the truth. “Hmmm . . . I think you could be, if you wanted to.”

  “Are you frightened of me now?” The smile vanished, and his heavenly face was suddenly serious.

  “No.” But I answered too quickly. The smile returned.

  “So, now are you going to tell me about your family?” I asked to distract him. “It’s got to be a much more interesting story than mine.”

  He was instantly cautious. “What do you want to know?”

  “The Cullens adopted you?” I verified.

  “Yes.”

  I hesitated for a moment. “What happened to your parents?”

  “They died many years ago.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

  “I don’t really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now.”

  “And you love them.” It wasn’t a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of them.

  “Yes.” He smiled. “I couldn’t imagine two better people.”

  “You’re very lucky.”

  “I know I am.”

  “And your brother and sister?”

  He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

  “My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me.”

  “Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go.” I didn’t want to get out of the car.

  “And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don’t have to tell him about the Biology incident.” He grinned at me.

  “I’m sure he’s already heard. There are no secrets in Forks.” I sighed.

  He laughed, and there was an edge to his laughter.

  “Have fun at the beach . . . good weather for sunbathing.” He glanced out at the sheeting rain.

  “Won’t I see you tomorrow?”

  “No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early.”

  “What are you going to do?” A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment wasn’t too apparent in my voice.

  “We’re going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier.”

  I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.

  “Oh, well, have fun.” I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don’t think I fooled him, though. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.

  “Will you do something for me this weekend?” He turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes.

  I nodded helplessly.

  “Don’t be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So . . . try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?” He smiled crookedly.

  The helplessness had faded as he spoke. I glared at him.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. I slammed the door behind me with excessive force.

  He was still smiling as he drove away.

  6. SCARY STORIES

  AS I SAT IN MY ROOM, TRYING TO CONCENTRATE ON THE third act of Macbeth, I was really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the pounding rain, I could have heard the engine’s roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain — again — it was suddenly there.

  I wasn’t looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non-expectations. Of course there were the fainting comments. Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward’s involvement. She did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.

  “So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?” Jessica asked in Trig.

  “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “He never really got to the point.”

  “You looked kind of mad,” she fished.

  “Did I?” I kept my expression blank.

  “You know, I’ve never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was weird.”

  “Weird,” I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls impatiently — I guessed she’d been hoping to hear something that would make a good story for her to pass on.

  The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn’t going to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I couldn’t keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And I couldn’t stop the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn’t know how long I would have to wait before I saw him again.

  At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I’d have to see that before I believed it. But it was warmer today — almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn’t be completely miserable.

  I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I didn’t understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that.

  “. . . don’t know why Bella” — she sneered my name — “doesn’t just sit with the Cullens from now on,” I heard her muttering to Mike. I’d never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice she had, and I was surprised by the malice in it. I really didn’t know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike me — or so I’d thought.

  “She’s my friend; she sits with us,” Mike whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially. I paused to let Jess and Angela pass me. I didn’t want to hear any more.

  That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he’d spent too many years building his habits to break them now. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him.

  “Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it’s south of Mount Rainier,” I asked casually.

  “Yeah — why?”

  I shrugged. “Some kids were talking about camping there.”

  “It’s not a very good place for camping.” He sounded surprised. “Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season.”

  “Oh,” I murmured. “Maybe I got the name wrong.”

  I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow light streaming through my window. I couldn’t believe it. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn’t seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I left the blue would disappear again.

  The Newtons’ Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I’d seen the store, but I’d never stopped there — not having much need for any supplies required for being outdoors over an extended period of time. In the parking lot I recognized Mike’s Suburban and Tyler’s Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was there, flanked by Angela and Lauren. Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. That one gave me a dirty look as I got out of the truck, and whispered something to Lauren. Lauren shook out
her cornsilk hair and eyed me scornfully.

  So it was going to be one of those days.

  At least Mike was happy to see me.

  “You came!” he called, delighted. “And I said it would be sunny today, didn’t I?”

  “I told you I was coming,” I reminded him.

  “We’re just waiting for Lee and Samantha . . . unless you invited someone,” Mike added.

  “Nope,” I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn’t get caught in the lie. But also wishing that a miracle would occur, and Edward would appear.

  Mike looked satisfied.

  “Will you ride in my car? It’s that or Lee’s mom’s minivan.”

  “Sure.”

  He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy.

  “You can have shotgun,” he promised. I hid my chagrin. It wasn’t as simple to make Mike and Jessica happy at the same time. I could see Jessica glowering at us now.

  The numbers worked out in my favor, though. Lee brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess in between Mike and me in the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could have been more graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.

  It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had the window seat. We’d rolled the windows down — the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it — and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.

  I’d been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs. The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water’s edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just out of reach of the waves.