Charlie seemed worried when he came home and smelled the green peppers, but he came around after the first bite. It was kind of a strange feeling, but also a good feeling, watching as he started to trust me in the kitchen.
“Dad?” I asked when he was almost done.
“Yeah, Beau?”
“Um, I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to Seattle a week from Saturday. Just for the day.” I didn’t want to ask permission—it set a bad precedent—but the statement form sounded rude, so I added, “If that’s okay?”
“Why?” He sounded surprised, like he couldn’t imagine any reason that would make someone want to leave Forks’s town limits.
“Well, I wanted to get a few books—the library here is pretty limited. And maybe some warmer clothes.” I had a little extra money, since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn’t had to buy a car—though the truck did need a bigger gasoline budget than I’d expected—and the cold-weather clothes I’d picked up in Phoenix seemed to have been designed by people who’d never actually lived in temperatures below seventy but had once had such a climate described to them.
“That truck probably doesn’t get very good gas mileage,” he said, echoing my thoughts.
“I know, I’ll stop in Montessano and Olympia—and Tacoma if I have to.”
“Are you going all by yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“Seattle is a big city—you could get lost,” he warned.
“Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle—and I can read a map, don’t worry about it.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
I wondered if he was really that worried about me, or if he just thought all the Saturdays he left me alone were adding up to neglect. Probably worried. I was sure that, in his head, he still pictured me as a five-year-old most of the time.
“That’s okay. It’s not going to be very exciting.”
“Will you be back in time for the dance?”
I just stared back at him until he got it.
It didn’t take him long. “Oh, right.”
“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t get my balance issues from my mom.
The next morning at school, I parked as far as possible from the shiny silver Volvo. I would keep my distance. I wouldn’t notice her anymore. She’d have nothing to complain about from here on out.
As I slammed the truck door shut, I lost my hold on the key and it splashed down in a puddle at my feet. As I bent to retrieve it, a pale hand flashed out and grabbed it first. I jerked upright, almost smacking my head into her. Edythe Cullen was right there, leaning casually against my truck.
“How do you do that?” I gasped.
“Do what?” She held out my key while she spoke. As I reached for it, she dropped it in my palm.
“Appear out of thin air?”
“Beau, it’s not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant.” Her voice was just a murmur, muted velvet, and her lips were holding back a smile. Like she thought I was hilarious.
How was I supposed to ignore her when she wouldn’t ignore me? That was what she wanted, right? Me, out of her long, bronze-y hair? Wasn’t that what she’d said to me yesterday? We couldn’t be friends. Then why was she talking to me? Was she sadistic? Was this her idea of fun—torture the idiotic kid she could never possibly care about?
I stared at her, frustrated. Her eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey color. My thoughts got confused, and I had to look down. Her feet were just a half-foot from mine, oriented toward me, unmoving. Like she was waiting for a response.
I looked past her, toward the school, and said the first dumb things that came into my mind. “Why the traffic jam last night? I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don’t exist.”
“Ah. That was for Taylor’s sake. She was figuratively dying for her chance at you.”
I blinked. “What?” Irritation from yesterday’s memory bled into my voice. I hadn’t thought Edythe and Taylor were friends. Did Taylor ask her … ? That didn’t seem likely.
“And I’m not pretending you don’t exist,” she continued like I hadn’t spoken.
I met her eyes again, trying hard to keep my mind focused, no matter how golden they seemed, or how long her lashes were against her pale violet lids.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I told her.
It was annoying how my thoughts seemed to explode straight through my lips when I was near her, like I had no filter at all. I would never have spoken this way to another girl.
The amused half-smile disappeared, and her face was suddenly guarded.
“Nothing,” she said too quickly, almost like she was lying.
“Then you probably should have let the van take me out. Easier that way.”
She stared for a second, and when she answered, her voice was cold. “Beau, you are utterly absurd.”
I must be right about the torture thing. I was just a way for her to pass time in this boring town. An easy mark.
I was past her in one long stride.
“Wait,” she said, but I forced myself to keep moving, not to look back.
“I’m sorry, that was rude,” she said, somehow right next to me, keeping pace though my legs were probably twice as long as hers. “I’m not saying it wasn’t true, but it was rude to say it out loud.”
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me.”
I sighed and slowed, though she didn’t seem like she was having a hard time keeping up. “Fine.” I was such a sucker. “What do you want?”
“I was wondering if, a week from Saturday—you know, the day of the spring dance—”
I stopped, wheeling to look down at her. “Is this funny to you?”
She stared up at me, seeming oblivious to the drizzling rain that was falling. She was apparently wearing no makeup at all—nothing smudged or ran. Of course, her face was just that perfect naturally. For a second, I was actually angry—angry that she had to be so beautiful. Angry that her beauty had made her cruel. Angry that I was the object of her cruelty, and even though I knew it, I still couldn’t successfully walk away from her.
Her amused expression was back, the hint of dimples threatening on her cheeks.
“Will you please allow me to finish?” she asked.
Walk away, I told myself.
I didn’t move.
“I heard that you were going to Seattle that day, and I wondered if you wanted a ride.”
That was not what I was expecting.
“Huh?”
“Do you want a ride to Seattle?”
I wasn’t sure where her joke was heading now. “With who?”
“Myself, obviously.” She enunciated every syllable, like she thought maybe English wasn’t my first language.
“Why?” Where was the punch line?
“Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and to be honest, I’m not sure if your truck can make it.”
Finally, I was able to start walking again, goaded by the insult to my truck.
“Make fun of me all you want, but leave the truck out of it,” I said.
Again, she kept up easily. “Why would you think that I’m making fun of you?” she asked. “The invitation is genuine.”
“My truck is great, thanks.”
“Can your truck make it to Seattle on one tank of gas?”
Before the truck, I’d never cared one way or another about any car, but I could feel a prejudice against Volvos forming.
“I don’t see how that’s your problem.”
“The wasting of finite resources is everyone’s problem,” she said primly.
“Seriously, Edythe.” I felt a charge go through me as I said her name aloud, and I didn’t like it. “I can’t keep up with you. I thought you didn’t want to be my friend.”
“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”
“Oh, wow, great, so that�
�s all cleared up.” Thick sarcasm. I realized I had stopped walking again. I looked down at her rain-washed face, clean and perfect, and my thoughts stuttered to a halt.
“It would be more … prudent for you not to be my friend,” she explained. “But I’m tired of trying to stay away from you, Beau.”
There was no humor in her face now. Her eyes were intense, narrowed, the long lines of her lashes stark black against her skin. Her voice had a strange heat to it. I couldn’t remember how to breathe.
“Will you accept a ride with me to Seattle?” she demanded, voice still burning.
I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded.
A quick smile reshaped her face, and then she was serious again.
“You really should stay away from me,” she warned. “I’ll see you in class.”
She spun on her heel and then walked quickly back the way we’d come.
5. BLOOD TYPE
I WALKED TO ENGLISH IN A KIND OF DAZE. I DIDN’T REALIZE WHEN I first came through the door that class had already started.
Ms. Mason’s irritated voice was my first clue. “Thank you for joining us, Mr. Swan.”
Patches of red formed on my face as I hurried to my seat.
It wasn’t until class was over that I noticed McKayla wasn’t sitting next to me like she usually did, and I remembered that I had hurt her feelings. But she and Erica waited at the door for me, so I hoped that meant I would be forgiven eventually. As we walked, McKayla seemed to become herself again, getting more enthusiastic as she talked about the weather report for the weekend. The rain was supposed to take a short break, so her beach trip would be possible. I tried to match her enthusiasm to make up for disappointing her yesterday, but I could tell I wasn’t fooling either of them. Rain or no rain, we would be lucky if the temperature even got close to fifty degrees. Not my idea of a beach day.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was hard to believe I wasn’t imagining things again—that Edythe really had said those words, and that her eyes had looked that way when she was saying them. Something about her confused my reality. First I’d thought I’d seen her stop a van barehanded, and now this. The original delusion seemed more likely than the second—that I appealed to her on any level. But here I was, walking into this one with eyes wide open, and I didn’t even care that the punch line was coming. At the moment, it seemed like a decent trade—her laughter later for that look in her eyes now.
I was both eager and nervous when I finally got to the cafeteria at lunchtime. Would she ignore me like usual? Would there be any sign from her that the conversation this morning had, in fact, happened? With a small percentage of my brain I listened to Jeremy. McKayla had asked him to the dance, and they were going to go with a few others—Allen and Erica, Logan and Taylor. I think I grunted in the right places, because he didn’t seem to notice how little of my attention I was giving him.
My eyes went straight to her table as soon as I was through the door, and then disappointment hit like a punch to the gut. There were only four people there, and Edythe wasn’t one of them. Was she going to disappear every time something significant happened?
Of course, the conversation this morning was only significant to me, I was sure.
I lost my appetite. I grabbed a bottle of lemonade for something to carry and followed Jeremy robotically through the line, wishing I were the kind of person who could just go home early, the kind who didn’t worry about unexcused absences and detention and disappointed parental figures.
“Edythe Cullen is staring at you again,” Jeremy said. I was one hundred percent paying attention as soon as he said her name. “I wonder why she’s sitting alone today.”
My head snapped up and I quickly followed his line of sight. Edythe was sitting at an empty table across the cafeteria from where she usually sat. Her dimples flashed as soon as she knew I’d seen her. She raised one hand and motioned with her index finger for me to join her. As I stared, not entirely believing my own eyes, she winked.
“Does she mean you?” Jeremy asked. There was an insult in his astonishment, but I was past caring.
“Um, maybe she needs help with her Biology homework,” I muttered. “I guess I should go see what she wants.”
I could feel Jeremy staring after me as I walked away. I could also feel those ugly splotches of red start up my neck, and tried to calm myself.
When I got to her table I just stood there behind the chair across from her, awkward.
“Why don’t you sit with me today?” she suggested through a wide smile.
I sat down automatically, watching her expression. Was this how the joke ended? She hadn’t stopped smiling. I found that I still didn’t care. Whatever got me more time this close to her.
She stared back at me, still smiling. Did she want me to say something?
“This is, uh, different,” I finally managed.
“Well,” she said, and then paused. I could tell there was more, so I waited. The rest of it followed in a rush, the words blurring together so that it took me a minute to decipher the meaning. “I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.”
I kept waiting, thinking she would explain, but she didn’t. The silence got more uncomfortable as the seconds passed.
“You know I don’t understand what you mean, right?” I asked.
“I’m counting on it,” she said, and then her eyes focused behind me. “I think your friends are upset that I’ve stolen you.”
Suddenly I could feel all their eyes boring into my back. For once, it didn’t bother me at all.
“They’ll survive.”
She grinned. “I may not give you back, though.”
I swallowed too loud and she laughed.
“You look worried,” she said.
“No.” I stopped to swallow again, hearing the edge of a break in my voice. “But surprised, yes. What’s this all about?” I gestured toward her and the rest of the empty table.
“I told you—I’m tired of trying to stay away from you. So I’m giving up.” The smile was fading, and her eyes were serious by the end.
“Giving up?” I repeated.
“Yes—giving up trying to be good. I’m just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may.” The smile disappeared completely, and a hard edge crept into her silky voice.
“You lost me again.”
It looked like she found that funny. “I always say too much when I’m talking to you—that’s one of the problems.”
“Don’t worry—I don’t understand anything you say.”
“Like I said—I’m counting on that.”
We stared at each other for a few seconds, but the quiet wasn’t awkward this time. It was more … charged. My face started to get hot again.
“So,” I said, looking away so that I could catch my breath. “In plain English, are we friends now?”
“Friends … ,” she murmured. She sounded like it wasn’t her favorite word.
“Or not,” I offered.
“Well, we can try, I suppose. But I’m warning you again that I’m not a good friend for you to have.” Her smile was brittle now, the warning real.
“You say that a lot.” Funny how my stomach was rolling. Was it because I was hungry after all? Because she was smiling at me? Or because I suddenly almost believed her? I could tell that she believed what she was saying.
“I do, because you’re not listening. I’m still waiting for you to hear me. If you’re smart, you’ll avoid me.”
Then I had to smile, and I watched as her smile automatically got bigger in response. “I thought we’d already come to the conclusion that I’m an idiot. Or absurd, or whatever.”
“I did apologize—for the second one, at least. Will you forgive me for the first? I spoke without thinking.”
“Yeah, of course. You don’t have to apologize to me.”
She sighed. “Don’t I?”
I didn’t know how to answer—it sounded like a rhetori
cal question anyway. I stared down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do. It was so strange to sit with her here—like normal people. I was sure only one of us was normal.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
I looked up. She was staring again, her gold eyes curious and—like the first time I’d seen her—frustrated. Once again, my thoughts refused to pass through the appropriate filter.
“I’m wondering what you are.”
Her smile tightened, like her teeth were suddenly clamped together, but she held it carefully in place.
“Are you having much luck with that?” Her voice was casual, like she didn’t really care about my answer.
My neck got hot and—I assumed—unattractively blotchy. During the last month I’d given it some thought, but the only solutions I could come up with were completely ridiculous. Like Clark Kent and Peter Parker–level nonsense.
She tilted her head to the side, staring into my eyes as if she was trying to see through them, right into my brain. She smiled—inviting this time, impossible to resist.
“Won’t you tell me?”
But I had to try to resist. She already thought I was an idiot. I shook my head. “Too embarrassing.”
“That’s really frustrating,” she complained.
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows. “Like … someone refusing to tell you what she’s thinking, even if all the while she’s making cryptic little comments designed to keep you up at night wondering what she could possibly mean … Frustrating like that?”
She frowned, her lips pouting out in a distracting way. I worked to hold on to my focus.
“Or is it frustrating like, say, she’s done a bunch of other strange things—for example, saving your life under impossible circumstances one day, then treating you like a pariah the next—and she never explained any of that, either, even after she promised? Frustrating like that?”
Her frown twitched, then settled into a deeper scowl. “You’re really not over that yet?”
“Not quite yet.”
“Would another apology help?”
“An explanation would be better.”
She pursed her lips, then glanced past my left arm and laughed once.
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