Life and Death

by Stephenie Meyer

  I shook my head at the thought of explaining my personal life to Charlie. “Why on earth would I do that?”

  Her eyes were suddenly fierce. “To give me some small incentive to bring you back.”

  I waited for her to relax. When she didn’t, I said, “I’ll take my chances.”

  She exhaled angrily, and looked away.

  “So that’s settled. New topic?”

  My attempt to change the subject didn’t help much.

  “What do you want to talk about?” she asked through her teeth, still annoyed.

  I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone’s hearing. In the back corner, Archie was leaning forward, talking to Jessamine. Eleanor sat beside her, but Royal was gone.

  “Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend … to hunt? Charlie said it wasn’t a good place to hike, because of bears.”

  She stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.

  “Bears?” I gasped.

  She smirked.

  “You know, bears are not in season,” I added sternly, to cover my shock.

  “If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons,” she informed me.

  She watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.

  “Bears?” I repeated with difficulty.

  “Grizzly is Eleanor’s favorite.” Her voice was still offhand, but her eyes were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.

  “Hmmm,” I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, then swallowed.

  “So,” I said after a moment. “What’s your favorite?”

  She raised an eyebrow and the corners of her mouth turned down like she didn’t approve of my question. “Mountain lion.”

  “Sure, that makes sense.” I nodded, like she’d just said something totally normal.

  “Of course”—her tone mirrored mine, nothing out of the ordinary—“we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators—ranging as far away as we need. There are always plenty of deer and elk here, and they’ll do, but where’s the fun in that?”

  She smiled.

  “So not fun,” I murmured around another bite of pizza.

  “Early spring is El’s favorite bear season—they’re just coming out of hibernation, so they’re more irritable.” She smiled at some remembered joke.

  “Nothing better than an irritated grizzly bear,” I agreed, nodding.

  She laughed, then shook her head. “Tell me what you’re really thinking, please.”

  “I’m trying to picture it—but I can’t,” I admitted. “How do you hunt a bear without weapons?”

  “Oh, we have weapons.” She flashed her bright teeth with a wide grin that wasn’t really a smile. “Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you’ve ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Eleanor hunting.”

  I glanced across the cafeteria toward Eleanor, grateful that she wasn’t looking my way. The long, smooth lines of muscle that ran down her arms and legs were suddenly much more than intimidating. I pictured her gripping under the edge of a mountain, then lifting …

  Edythe followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared back at her, unnerved.

  “Is it dangerous?” I asked in a low voice. “Do you ever get hurt?”

  Her laughter pealed like a bell. “Oh, Beau. About as dangerous as your slice.”

  I looked at the pizza crust and said, “Yikes. So … are you … like a bear attack?”

  “More like the lion, or so they tell me,” she said lightly. “Perhaps our preferences are indicative.”

  “Perhaps,” I repeated. I tried to smile, but my mind was struggling to fit the paradoxical images together, and failing. “Is that something I might get to see?”

  “Never!” she whispered. Her face turned even whiter than usual, and her eyes were suddenly horrified. She pulled her hand gently from mine and wrapped her arms tightly around her body.

  My hand lay there empty on the table, numb from the cold.

  “What did I say?” I asked.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, regaining control. When she met my stare at last, she looked angry. “I almost wish it were possible. You don’t seem to understand the realities present. It might be beneficial for you to see exactly how dangerous I actually am.”

  “Okay, then, why not?” I pressed, trying to ignore her hard expression.

  She glared at me for a long minute.

  “Later,” she finally said. She was on her feet in one lithe movement. “We’re going to be late.”

  I glanced around, startled to see that she was right and the cafeteria was nearly vacant. When I was with her, the time and the place were such minor details that I completely lost track of both. I jumped up, grabbing our bags from the floor.

  “Later, then,” I agreed. I wouldn’t forget.

  11. COMPLICATIONS

  EVERYONE WATCHED US AS WE WALKED TOGETHER TO OUR LAB TABLE. This time she didn’t angle the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, she sat right next to me, our arms almost touching. Her hair brushed my skin.

  Mrs. Banner backed into the room then, pulling an outdated TV and VCR on a wheeled frame. It seemed like everyone in the room relaxed at the same time. I was relieved, too. I knew I wouldn’t have been able to pay attention to a lecture today. I had too much to sort through inside my head already.

  Mrs. Banner shoved the old tape into the VCR, then walked across the room to turn off the lights. And then suddenly, as the room went black, things got weird.

  It wasn’t like I wasn’t already hyperaware that Edythe was right there, just an inch away from me. I wouldn’t have imagined that I could be more aware of her. But in the dark, somehow … It was like an electrical current was flowing through her body into mine, like those miniature lightning bolts that jump between live circuits were dancing up and down the small gap between our bodies. Where her hair touched my arm, it was almost painful.

  A crazy strong impulse to reach over and touch her—to stroke her perfect face just once in the darkness—almost overwhelmed me. What was wrong with me? You couldn’t just go around touching people because the lights were off. I crossed my arms tightly over my ribs and balled my hands into fists.

  The opening credits started, and the room got a fraction brighter. I couldn’t stop myself from peeking over at her.

  She was sitting exactly like I was—arms crossed, hands clenched, just glancing over to me. When she saw me looking, too, she smiled, almost like she was embarrassed. Even in the dark, her eyes still burned. I had to look away before I did something stupid—something that would definitely not conform to her idea of careful.

  It was a very long hour. I couldn’t concentrate on the movie. I didn’t have any idea what it was about. I tried to act normal, to make my muscles relax, but the electrical current never let up. Now and then, I let myself take a quick glance in her direction, but she never seemed to relax, either. The feeling that I just had to touch her face also refused to go away. I kept my fists crushed safely against my ribs until my fingers were aching with the effort.

  I sighed with relief when Mrs. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched my arms down at my sides, flexing my stiff fingers. Edythe laughed once.

  “Well, that was … interesting,” she murmured. Her voice was low and her eyes were cautious.

  “Umm,” was all I was able to respond.

  “Shall we?” she asked, on her feet in one liquid movement. She scooped her bag up with one finger.

  I stood carefully, worried I wouldn’t be able to walk straight after all that.

  She walked with me to Gym in silence, and then paused at the door. I looked down to say goodbye but choked on the word. Her face—it was torn, almost pained, and so unbearably beautiful that the ache to touch her hit me even more intensely th
an it had before. It was all I could do to just stare.

  She raised one hand, hesitant, conflict clear in her eyes, and then quickly brushed her fingertips across the line of my jaw. Her fingers were icy like always, but the trail they left on my skin was almost like a burn that hadn’t turned painful yet.

  She spun without a word and walked swiftly away from me.

  I stumbled into the gym, lightheaded and unstable, and dressed down in a trance, barely aware of the other people around me. Reality didn’t fully set in until I was handed a racket.

  It wasn’t very heavy, but I knew that didn’t matter. In my hands, it was dangerous. I could see a few of the other kids eyeing me and the racket. Then Coach Clapp ordered us to choose our own partners, and I figured I was about to be the last guy up against the wall.

  But I’d underestimated McKayla’s loyalty. She came to stand next to me right away.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know,” I told her.

  She grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep out of your way.”

  Sometimes it was really easy to like McKayla.

  It didn’t go smoothly. I’m not sure how I did it, but I managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and clip McKayla’s shoulder on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held behind my back. Despite being handicapped by me, McKayla was pretty good; she won three games out of four single-handedly, then gave me an unearned high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.

  “So,” she started as we walked off the court.

  “So?”

  “You and Edythe Cullen, huh?” Her tone was just slightly hostile.

  “Yeah, me and Edythe Cullen,” I replied. I’m sure she could hear the sound of wonder in my voice.

  “I don’t like it,” she muttered.

  “Well, you don’t actually have to.”

  “So she just snaps her fingers and you heel?”

  “Guess so.”

  She scowled at me. I turned my back on her and walked away. I knew I would be last against the wall tomorrow, but I didn’t care. By the time I was dressed I’d forgotten all about McKayla. Would Edythe be outside, or should I go wait by her car? What if her family was there? She’d parked right next to Royal’s car. Just thinking about Royal’s face in the cafeteria had me wondering if I should walk home. Had she told them that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew? What was the etiquette on vampire acknowledgments? Did a nod work?

  But when I walked out of the gym, Edythe was there. She stood in the shade of the gym building, though the clouds were still black, with her hands laced together in front of her. Her face was peaceful now, a small smile turning up just the corners of her lips. The thin sweater didn’t look like enough, and though I knew it was stupid, I wanted to take my jacket off and wrap it around her. As I walked to her side, I felt a strange sense of harmony—like everything was right in the world as long as I was close to her.

  “Hi.” I could feel the huge, goofy smile on my face.

  “Hello.” Her answering smile was brilliant. “How was Gym?”

  I was suddenly suspicious. “Fine.”

  “Really?” Her eyebrows shot up. “How’s your head?”

  “You didn’t.”

  She started walking slowly toward the parking lot. I automatically fell into step with her.

  “You were the one who mentioned how I’d never seen you in Gym—it made me curious.”

  “Great,” I said. “Fantastic. Well, sorry about that. I don’t mind walking home if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

  She laughed musically. “It was very entertaining. Though I wouldn’t have minded if you’d hit that girl just a little harder.”

  “What?”

  As she glanced behind us, her mouth flattened into a straight line. I turned to see what she was looking at—McKayla’s blond hair bobbing as she walked away.

  “It’s been a while since someone besides family thought those kinds of words about me. I don’t think I like it.”

  I felt a sudden pang of anxiety for McKayla.

  Edythe read my expression and laughed again. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t hurt your friend. If I did, who else would agree to be your badminton partner?”

  It was hard to process. Edythe was just so … delicate. But when she said this, it was clear that she was more than confident in her abilities. If she wanted McKayla—or anyone—hurt, it would be very bad news for that person. She was dangerous, I knew this, but I kept running into a wall when I tried to believe it. I changed the subject.

  “What kinds of words has your family been thinking about you?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not fair to judge people on their thoughts. Those are supposed to be private. It’s actions that count.”

  “I don’t know… . If you know someone can hear, isn’t that the same thing as saying it out loud?”

  “Easy for you to say.” She grinned. “Controlling your thoughts is very difficult. When Royal and I butt heads, I think much worse things about him, and I do say those words out loud.” She laughed her ringing laugh again.

  I hadn’t been watching where we were going, so I was surprised when we had to slow, blocked from Edythe’s car by a crowd of kids. There was a circle around Royal’s red convertible, two deep, mostly guys. Some of them looked about to drool. None of her family was around, and I wondered if she’d asked them to give her some space.

  None of the car enthusiasts even looked up when I edged by them to get Edythe’s door.

  “Ostentatious,” she muttered as she slid past me.

  I hurried around to the passenger side and climbed in.

  “What kind of car is that?”

  “An M3,” she said as she tried to back out of the space without hitting anybody.

  “Um, I don’t speak Car and Driver.”

  She carefully maneuvered her way free. “It’s a BMW.”

  “Okay, I know that one.”

  We pulled away from the school and it was just the two of us. The privacy felt like freedom. There was no one watching or listening here.

  “Is it later yet?” I asked her.

  She didn’t miss the significance in my tone.

  She frowned. “I suppose it is.”

  I kept my expression neutral while I waited for her to explain. She watched the road, pretending like she actually needed to, and I watched her face. A few different expressions flickered across it, but they changed so fast I wasn’t able to interpret them. I was starting to wonder if she was just going to ignore my question when she stopped the car. I looked up, surprised. We were already at Charlie’s house, parked behind my truck. It was easier to ride with her, I decided, when I didn’t look until it was over.

  She was staring at me when I looked back, seeming to measure me with her eyes.

  “And you want to know why you can’t see me hunt?” she asked. Her voice was serious, but her expression was a little amused. Not at all like it had been in the cafeteria earlier.

  “Yes. And why you seemed so … mad when I asked.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Did I frighten you?” The question sounded hopeful.

  “Did you want to?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “Maybe I did.”

  “Okay then, sure, I was terrified.”

  She smiled, shook her head, and then her face was serious again. “I apologize for reacting like that. It was just the thought of you being near … while we hunted.” Her jaw tightened.

  “That would be bad?”

  She answered through her teeth. “Extremely.”

  “Because … ?”

  She took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

  “When we hunt”—she spoke slowly, unwillingly—“we give ourselves over to our senses … govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that
way …” She shook her head, still staring unhappily at the heavy clouds.

  I kept my expression empty, expecting the swift flash of her eyes to judge my reaction that followed. But our eyes held, and the silence deepened—changed. Flickers of the electricity I’d felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as she gazed without blinking into my eyes. It wasn’t until my head started to swim that I realized I wasn’t breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath, breaking the silence, she closed her eyes.

  “Beau, I think you should go inside now.” Her low voice wasn’t so smooth—more like raw silk now—and her eyes were on the clouds again.

  I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear my head. Afraid I was so lightheaded that I might stumble, I stepped carefully out of the car and shut the door behind me without looking back. The whir of the automatic window unrolling made me turn.

  “Oh, Beau?” she called after me. She leaned toward the open window with a small smile on her lips.

  “Yeah?”

  “Tomorrow it’s my turn.”

  “Your turn to what?”

  She smiled wider, flashing her gleaming teeth. “Ask the questions.”

  And then she was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around the corner before I could even put my thoughts in order. I smiled as I walked to the house. It was clear she was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else.

  That night Edythe starred in my dreams, as usual. However, the climate of my unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged the afternoon, and I tossed and turned restlessly, waking often. It was only in the early hours of the morning that I finally sank into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

  When my alarm went off, I was still beat, but wired at the same time. After I showered, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror while I combed through my wet hair. I looked the same as always, and yet there was something different. My hair was dark and too thick, my skin too pale, and my bones were all shaped the same underneath, no change there. My eyes were the same light blue staring back at me … but I realized they were the culprits. I’d always thought it was the color that made them—and by extension, the rest of my face—look so uncertain, but though the color hadn’t changed, the lack of resolve had. The boy who looked back at me today was determined, sure of his course. I wondered when that had happened. I thought I could probably guess.