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4. INVITATIONS

The first time I broke my ankle, in the autumn of my sophomore year, I returned to school to find that I had become some sort of celebrity. People surrounded me at every turn, offering their sympathies and get well wishes. Someone was always there to help carry my books from one class to another as I hobbled down the sidewalk on crutches. Wherever I chose to sit at lunch became the center of attention for the entire lunch period. When I broke my ankle the second time, only weeks after having the first cast removed, the process repeated itself all over again. Wednesday morning, I arrived at school to find myself in the spotlight for the third time in two years.

All morning long, teachers would stop to check on me before calling class to order. A hundred students asked me for details of the accident, and I retold the simplified story of how Bella and I had dived out of the way more often than I cared to remember. I wasn't crazy enough to tell the truth about what had really happened. Whatever secret Bella wanted to keep, I would respect her privacy enough not to divulge all of the details to the rest of the school . . . even though not knowing was eating me alive.

Oddly enough, no one seemed at all concerned about Bella. Only a few of my classmates even spared her a thought as I repeated my story for the one hundred and first time at lunch. Those who did think of her sent only fleeting glances toward the Cullens' lunch table. It was only her fourth day in attendance, but Bella was already firmly classified as one of them. I had to give Tyler points for bravery, though. Near the end of lunch, he pushed back his chair and took a few hesitant steps toward the Cullens' table to offer another apology to Bella. He had only taken about four steps when all five of the table's occupants turned and fixed their gazes on him. Tyler stopped mid-stride and detoured toward the trash can instead.

I entered Mr. Banner's classroom that afternoon eager to talk to Bella, but she didn't acknowledge me when I sat down at our table. I assumed that she was still angry about our argument at the hospital, so I offered her a friendly smile. "Hi," I said, hoping that if I ignored our disagreement from the day before, she might do the same. Bella gave no sign that she heard me. She simply tilted her head to the side so that her hair fell down between us, shielding her face from my view. She never turned away from the front of the classroom, where Mr. Banner was writing the topic for the day's class on the blackboard. She ignored me for the rest of the hour.

The next several weeks were no different. After a few days of trying to be friendly, I finally gave up and accepted that Bella was still angry and not likely to speak to me any time soon. I wanted to reassure her that I wouldn't tell anyone what I had seen that morning in the parking lot, but Biology was the only place where I got close enough to talk to her, and a crowded high school classroom was hardly the place to discuss something that you didn't want overheard.

For the next month, I sat beside her in Biology, but we hardly ever spoke. The only exceptions were those times when we had to work together for an in-class assignment and we had no choice but to communicate. Even then, her comments were limited to one word answers, and I only received those when a shrug, a nod, or a shake of the head couldn't convey what she needed to tell me. She spent her time in class focused on Mr. Banner, her chair angled perfectly toward the front of the room and scooted as far away from me as it would go. Every now and then I would see that old disgusted expression twist her features, and I wondered how long the silence would go on. I watched her as February passed by, as her eyes got slowly darker and then abruptly lighter again, and I tore through the possibilities of the secrets she was hiding.

Bella haunted my waking thoughts, so it was no surprise that she monopolized my sleeping ones, as well. The day she rescued me in the parking lot I had compared her to a guardian angel, and it was that image that replayed itself for me every night. There was something about her that defied the traditional image of flowing white robes and golden halos, though. Instead, the angel of my dreams wore ebony lace. Her dark hair fell loosely down her back, brushing against feathery wings that were as black as a raven's. Like the color of her eyes, the expression on her face changed every night, shifting from curiosity to anger, from frustration to tears. Sometimes it seemed as though she wanted to speak to me, to give me the answers I so desperately sought, but every time she opened her lips to speak, the dream would end and I would wake.

As spring drew closer, we suffered through no more icy roads or snowy mornings; the weather returned to its normal routine of nearly constant rain. Mike started to plan the trip to the beach at La Push that he had been talking about since the middle of January. My father and I made plans for me to spend spring break in Phoenix with him. He even surprised me by planning a trip to Seattle right before the break; he bought tickets for a Mariners game and convinced my mother to let me stay out of school for the day to go with him.

By the end of February, the school's attention was focused on the dance set for the weekend before spring break. It was girl's choice, and as the day approached, girls gathered outside of classroom doors discussing who they should and shouldn't ask to go with them. The male half of the student body passed by them on their way in and out of class and pretended not to be trying to listen in. In my case, I really wasn't trying to listen in. There was only one girl on my mind these days, and I was no closer to being able to speak to her now than I had been a month before.

I didn't think anyone had noticed Bella's coolness toward me until Mike mentioned it one Wednesday morning at the beginning of March.

"What happened with you and Bella Swan, anyway?" he asked as we headed out the door of building three after English. "You two looked . . . friendly. Now she acts like she's allergic to you or something."

"I don't know." I shrugged, trying to make the gesture appear casual.

"Well," he said after a moment, "maybe I can get her to ask me to the spring dance."

My eyes popped wide open, and I turned to stare at him, realizing a moment too late that he was only joking. He held up both hands in surrender and apology.

"Just kidding, man. Just kidding." He lowered his hands. "I mean, she's pretty. Heck, she's gorgeous, but she's . . . well, she's kind of creepy. Sometimes I catch her staring at me . . . and not in a good way, either. It's . . . really weird." He shuddered slightly.

I didn't know what to say, so I stared down at the sidewalk instead. Uncomfortable with my silence, Mike decided to change the subject.

"Hey, the weather's getting warmer. We might actually be able to go to First Beach this weekend. You still in?"

"Yeah," I responded, still pondering the burn of jealousy that had flared in my stomach only a moment before. "Yeah, I'm still in."

. . . . .

At lunch that day, Jessica grabbed the seat to my left and started chattering away about one thing after another. I didn't really have much to say about who Heather Andrews was dating or what the decorating committee had in mind for the spring dance, so I just nodded and gave one word answers for the first few minutes. I was relieved when Mike sat down across from me; it gave Jessica someone else to talk to. When I took my tray up at the end of lunch, Jessica followed along behind me like a shadow. She seemed to want a moment with me in private . . . and I had my suspicions as to why. When I saw Mike and Angela waiting for me to walk to Biology, I motioned for them to go on ahead without me.

"So," Jessica began just as soon as they were out of earshot, "the spring dance is next weekend." Apparently Jessica still wasn't over her crush on me. It looked like my hunch was right. "Would you like to go with me?"

I phrased my answer carefully. "Um, Jess, I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" she asked, the smile fading from her face.

"Well, guys have this . . . unwritten rule. You can't go to a dance with a girl your friend likes." She lowered her eyebrows. Was she really that clueless?

"Huh?"

"Look, don't tell him that I said anything, but Mike really likes you. If I go with you, it'll upset him." She stared blankly at me for a moment, then blinked a few times and frowned slightly as she processed what I was saying. "I can't go to the dance anyway," I explained quickly. "I'm leaving the next day to spend spring break with my father in Phoenix. Between packing and having to get up the next morning . . ." Technically, my flight wasn't until Sunday evening, but I wasn't about to tell her that.

"Oh," she said, her eyes sliding toward the door that Mike had just exited through. My mention of him seemed to have gotten her thinking. She didn't appear put off by the idea, either, so maybe I could nudge her in the right direction.

I glanced up at the cafeteria clock pointedly. "I've got to get to class, but ask Mike, okay?" She nodded, her face considerably brighter. Apparently she had decided that Mike would be an acceptable alternative.

"All right. Umm, thanks."

As I turned toward the door, I noticed Bella and Alice leaving the cafeteria just ahead of me. I followed Bella to Biology, sliding in through the door only a moment before the bell rang. I took my seat and tried to look prepared for class as Mr. Banner began his lecture.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bella shift, and I instinctively glanced in her direction. She was watching me, her eyes fixed on my face, but there was no trace of anger in their dark depths today. I couldn't stop myself from looking back at her as I tried to decipher her expression. The corners of her mouth were tilted downward, and her dark eyes were curious, but there was something else, something that almost looked like . . . sadness?

I told myself that I shouldn't stare at her in the middle of class, and I had almost managed to turn my head away when I heard Mr. Banner calling out for the answer to a question. I jerked my eyes back to the blackboard. Someone who wasn't paying attention was always an easy target.

"Mr. Masen?" I heard him call my name.

I froze. I'd been so intent on watching Bella that I had no clue what Mr. Banner had been talking about. I glanced down at my open textbook, hoping that the answer would somehow leap up at me, but I didn't even know what the question was. Mr. Banner was staring down at me. The entire class was waiting for my response. I looked like a fool.

And then a miracle happened.

Softly, hardly loud enough for me to hear, and surely too low for anyone else in the room to hear, came a quiet whisper. "The Krebs Cycle," it said.

"The Krebs Cycle?" I said aloud. It came out sounding more like a question than I had intended. Mr. Banner studied me for a heartbeat. If he was surprised by my answer, he didn't show it, but I could practically hear him warning me to pay more attention next time.

"Yes, Mr. Masen, the Krebs Cycle." He turned and walked back toward the blackboard at the front of the classroom.

Bella, who had been ignoring me for weeks, had just fed me the answer.

As soon as Mr. Banner had started drawing diagrams again, I risked a quick glance back over at Bella. She had her face turned toward the front of the classroom, but her eyes were focused in my direction. I smiled softly, but she didn't respond.

I tried to pay attention to Mr. Banner for the rest of the hour, but every time I snuck a glance out of the corner of my eye, I found that Bella seemed to be sneaking a glance back at me. When the bell rang, I almost expected her to dart out of the room as she had done so many times over the past month, but when I turned back from putting my notes in my backpack, Bella was still beside me. Would she actually talk to me today? It was worth a shot.

"Thank you," I said, halfway expecting her to ignore me and walk away.

"You're welcome," she said after a moment, her melodious voice flowing through the words like a song. Then she frowned and averted her eyes to the floor. The expression on her face surprised me. She usually seemed so composed, but now she seemed . . . torn . . . uncertain.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She seemed lost in thought for another heartbeat before she opened her mouth to speak. "I owe you an apology. I know that my manners have been less than commendable lately. I'm trying to do the right thing." She turned her eyes to mine, her expression open and unguarded . . . and somehow pleading.

"The right thing?" I echoed.

"It's nothing personal. I'm sure you're a very nice person. It's just better if we don't . . . talk."

"I don't understand," I told her. She looked away, and I followed her eyes to the front of the class, where Mr. Banner was erasing the blackboard. Most of the other students were already on their way out the door. There was no one around to overhear us. I lowered my voice until it was barely above a whisper.

"Look, if you're afraid that I'm going to tell someone what happened, I won't. I promise."

Some unidentifiable emotion crossed her face at my words, and I immediately regretted them. She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head subtly. When she reopened them, she didn't seem to be able to meet my gaze.

"Good," she said as she swept around me and hurried out the door. I stared after her for a moment in confusion before making my way to my next class.

I was saved from playing basketball in Gym by the fact that Coach Clapp needed an equipment closet reorganized. I was pretty sure that it was just an excuse to keep several of us off the basketball court, but I wasn't about to argue. As I walked down the hall toward my locker after class, I discovered that Angela Weber was waiting for me. I wondered briefly why she was there, but then I realized that I already knew.

"Hey," I greeted her as I flipped open the lock and began to trade around some of my textbooks. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering if you had plans for the spring dance?"

I'd been hoping that I was wrong about why Angela was waiting for me. No such luck. I felt terrible. If I hadn't already started the story that I'd be getting ready to go out of town, I might have accepted her offer, but there would be no living with Jessica if I changed my story now. I frowned. Didn't Jessica keep her friends informed of who she was asking to the dance? Apparently not.

"I'm sorry," I told her, and I genuinely was. I wasn't interested in Angela, but I wouldn't have minded going to the dance with her — on a strictly "as friends" basis, of course. "I'm flying to Phoenix that weekend to spend spring break with my father, so I can't go."

"Oh," she said, looking a bit disappointed. I felt terrible for a moment, but then an idea started to form in the back of my mind.

"Hey, what about Eric Yorkie? He doesn't have a date yet, does he?"

Angela shook her head. "I don't know. I haven't heard anyone say anything about asking him." She brightened up a bit.

"I think I overheard Jessica saying something about asking Mike. If you go with Eric, and Jessica asks Mike, then maybe you can get Lauren to ask Tyler. I overheard him telling someone at lunch that he doesn't have a date yet."

Angela's smile widened. "That's a good idea. Thanks."

I zipped up my backpack and smiled back. "Good luck," I told her as she turned to go off in search of Eric. "I'll see you tomorrow."

As I watched Angela walk away, Bella and Alice walked by. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a slight smile touching Alice's lips. She was amused by something, but Bella didn't seem to be in on the joke. Her eyebrows were knitted together, and she was staring down at the floor. I closed my locker and headed out to the parking lot.

On the way to my Volvo, I passed Rosalie's car. Bella was standing beside it, her expression blank once more as she stood in a group with her cousins. Why did they always stand around like that, anyway? Sometimes, they didn't even seem to be talking.

As I leaned down to open my car door, I heard someone approach me from behind. Turning, I found myself face to face with Lauren Mallory. And I had a good idea what she wanted. Was I the only available guy in Forks?

"Hi, Edward," she said, flipping her blond hair. She did that a lot when she was trying to flirt. I wasn't impressed.

"Hey, Lauren." I plastered a smile on my face and hoped she wouldn't want to talk very long.

"I was wondering if I could ask you something?"

"Sure," I said, though I really wished she wouldn't. I opened the door and set my backpack on the passenger's seat.

"Would you be my date for the spring dance?" she asked.

"I'm going out of town, Lauren. I'm spending spring break with my father."

"That's what Jessica said," she admitted.

"Then why—"

"I just thought you were trying to find a nice way to tell her 'no.' I wouldn't blame you. I mean, you know how Jessica is." She rolled her eyes, and I felt a pang of guilt for ever thinking that Tyler deserved this.

"Sorry, Lauren." I said it as nicely as possible, but I didn't feel sorry at all. Maybe Jessica wasn't always an angel, either, but no one deserved friends like this. "I really am going to Phoenix."

"Oh," Lauren said, frowning, "maybe some other time, then?"

At that moment, Bella and Alice walked past us on the way to Bella's truck. Bella looked angry again, but at least she was glaring at the ground in front of her and not at me. Alice sent a surprisingly friendly glance in my direction, her smile widening wickedly as she caught sight of Lauren, and a bell-like giggle escaped from between her lips. When Bella elbowed her, she jerked her head back to face forward again. Why had Alice smiled at me? Why the giggle? And what had made Bella so angry all of the sudden?

I couldn't stop myself from staring after Bella as she and Alice walked away. I realized too late that Lauren had caught a glimpse of my expression. She stalked off toward the other end of the lot, deeply insulted by the sight of me staring after two girls who had laughed at her. I didn't really care who saw. I watched after Bella until she and Alice had gotten into her ancient red truck, then I got into my Volvo and drove away.

. . . . .

There was a light drizzle falling the next morning as I pulled into the school parking lot. I sat in my car and tried not to watch Bella. She was standing by Rosalie's BMW again, though this time she was huddled under an umbrella with Alice. I opened the car door and leaned across the seat to get my backpack. When I sat back up straight, Bella was standing beside the open door, only inches away from me. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"How do you do that?" I asked her. I winced at the sound of my voice. She'd startled me, and the words had come out wrong.

"Do what?" she asked innocently, stepping back to give me room to get out of the Volvo.

"Sneak up on me," I answered. No one else had ever managed to do it, but this was the second time she'd done it to me.

"Sorry," she said, a faint smile touching the corners of her lips. Apparently she was talking to me again. I searched for a safe topic of conversation, for some way to keep her talking.

"So, what was so funny to Alice yesterday, anyway?" I asked as I turned to walk through the lot. Bella fell into step beside me.

"She was in a rather good mood, and she was . . . amused by Lauren Mallory . . . being herself." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. The sight of Lauren stalking off yesterday would have been rather amusing, if I'd been paying any attention to her at that point. I sighed.

"So . . . have you decided if it's okay to talk to me?" I asked her. She frowned, her eyes focused on the pavement at her feet.

"I shouldn't," she answered. I shook my head and looked away. I couldn't understand her, but I desperately wanted to. She was the mystery I couldn't solve. I was tired and frustrated—tired of lying awake at night thinking about her and frustrated that talking to her only gave me more questions. I stopped and turned to face her.

"You're driving me crazy, you know?" I told her. "I don't understand you. One day you're saving my life, and the next you're completely ignoring me. And every time you talk to me, all you say is that you shouldn't be talking to me." I watched her, trying to decide what kind of game she was playing.

Her scowl deepened, and she finally met my eyes again. "It's considerably more complicated than that."

"How?" I asked. When she said nothing, I adjusted the strap of my backpack and headed toward school again. She hurried around me and stood blocking my path. I stared at her for a moment, then closed my eyes. No matter how fascinated I was with her, this had to stop. Playing this strange game with her, trying to figure her out - I was going to lose my mind.

"I'm sorry, okay?" She shook her head as if to clear it. "I just wanted to ask you something."

I cringed internally. Whatever she said now would drive me crazy for at least a week.

"Fire away," I said, conceding defeat.

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday—you know, the day of the spring dance . . ." She trailed off when she saw my eyes widen, and I had to fight the urge to beg her to finish. Was she asking me to the spring dance? She may have been driving me crazy with her odd little games, but if she was being serious, I'd never be able to make myself say 'no.'

"Bella . . ." I prodded after a moment.

"Just listen for a moment, please," she said in a pleading tone, apparently misinterpreting my reaction.

"Okay," I agreed.

"I know you can't go to the dance because you have to leave the next day." Had I explained that to Lauren? No, apparently Bella had been listening in on my conversation with Jessica, and probably the one I'd had with Angela at my locker, as well. Had she been worried that I would agree to go to the dance with someone else before she'd had the chance to ask me herself? Was my attraction to Bella not as one-sided as I had assumed it to be?

"I was wondering if, since you can't go anywhere Saturday evening, you might be interested in breakfast Saturday morning?"

It took a moment for the words to sink in, and then I stared at her in shock. "Breakfast? Saturday morning?" I asked dumbly. This was the last thing I'd expected when she'd met me at my car only a few moments ago.

"Yes," she answered.

I responded with the first thing that popped into my head.

"Seriously?"

She frowned faintly. "I just thought it might be a nice chance for me to apologize for the last few weeks." Her frown lifted into a hesitant smile. I stared at her, my mind a twisted mix of confusion and elation. It took me a moment to find words.

"I thought you didn't want to be friends."

"No," she corrected carefully. "I said it would be better if we didn't talk. I never said that I didn't want to be friends." I shook my head, puzzled all over again.

"What does that even mean?" I asked, wondering if this all really was some strange dream.

"It would be . . . wiser for you not to spend much time around me," she said. Her voice dropped until it was only barely above a whisper. Her topaz eyes gazed up into mine. "But I can't stay away from you anymore."

"Will you have breakfast with me Saturday morning?" she asked again, her eyes still locked on mine.

"Yes," I said. Slowly at first, and then broadening quickly, a brilliant smile broke out across her lovely features. Her eyes sparkled, and her face brightened like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

"You really ought to stay away from me," she said, taking several steps backward into the parking lot. There was a warning in her tone, but her eyes were dancing with something closer to joy. She turned and started back toward Rosalie's car, but she was still watching me over her shoulder. "I'll see you this afternoon," she called back.

I stared after her numbly as she headed back out through the drizzle toward Alice.