Jacob

The Black Free Clinic operated out of a ramshackle old house squeezed between two high-rise apartment buildings. Jacob struggled up the chipped cement steps. Kevin might appear skinny but he was heavier than he looked. He got him into one of the examination rooms and went to find his father.

Dr. Black examined the boy, who hadn't regained consciousness. "Looks like a narcotics overdose. I need to take a blood sample and analyze it, but I'm pretty sure I know what he's on." He frowned. "There's a new drug out on the streets. I've been seeing more cases lately. I don't know details of its chemical composition, but it appears to produce a very euphoric high. I treated a kid who said it makes you feel like everything you wish for will come true." He adjusted an IV for the boy, smoothed back his dark hair, lying in matted tufts on the pillow. "But an overdose can cause mental regression and brain damage. Childish behavior."

"Is he going to get better?" asked Jacob.

His father shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes they behave normally for a while, and then have flashbacks where they think they're children again." He placed his stethoscope back in the breast pocket of his lab coat. "The other thing we know about this drug is that it's more addictive than heroin. Apparently it only takes maybe two, three doses before you're hooked."

"Why aren't the cops doing anything?"

"I'm sure they are, but from what I hear, no one even knows where it's manufactured, or how it's being smuggled into the country."

Jacob clenched his fists. "I've got a good idea who's mixed up in it." James Witherdale. Not only was he a complete asshole, but he was definitely dealing drugs. Too bad Jacob hadn't been able to find any proof, despite following the bastard on and off for months. He was just going to have to do better.

"Son, you shouldn't get involved with this. Leave it to the police."

"Right, Dad. While more cases like this happen." Maybe he couldn't find proof of James' involvement, but the least he could do was beat the hell out of the bastard. Along with the rest of his scummy friends. That might end up being the only way he could make a difference.

Bella

I was running late for lunch with my friends. I guess that was as good an excuse as any other. I zipped back and forth through the crowded school corridors, imagining I was a ping-pong ball bouncing my way around knots of chattering students. As I rounded a corner near the first-floor exit to the courtyard, I missed a bounce and crashed into someone.

I yelped as the breath was knocked out of me, my books scattered to the floor. A heavy reek of sweat poorly covered up by cologne washed over me. I coughed at the smell but managed a polite "Oh! I'm so sorry!"

The tall blond glared at me. "Watch where you're going next time, bitch!" He kicked my binder and books viciously as he stomped away. The binder crunched open on the floor, homework spraying out a trail of lined paper. My Econ textbook soared in a high, wide arc before slamming into the stainless steel statue of a headless woman with a hole in her belly, Forks High's concession to high art, then fluttered limply to the floor in three pieces.

"It was an accident, and I said I was sorry!" I shouted at his back. The textbook had been kicked so hard its binding had split. I was going to have to tape it back together. I hoped the school wouldn't charge me for it. My mother would be furious; money had been especially tight recently. I gathered up the dirty, torn remains of my homework, stuffed them back into my binder and walked more carefully into the courtyard.

It was a beautiful late fall day; the air was crisp, cool, and dry. The leaves on the oak trees in the courtyard were bright yellow edged with brown. Darker brown leaves crunched underfoot on the asphalt, filling the air with their spicy scent.

I plumped down on the metal seat next to Leah and Jessica. Leah frowned. "I saw that collision," she said. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." I brushed my hair out of my face. "But that Riley Biers is a jerk! He kicked my books even after I apologized for running into him."

Leah's face darkened. "Bella, you should watch out for him. He has a really bad reputation."

"It's not like I planned to run into him!" I protested. "It was an accident."

"You should be careful," Jessica said. "Haven't you heard? He's a member of Volterra."

"A member of what?" I asked, rooting around in my disheveled backpack for my lunch.

Leah rolled her eyes. "You really are an innocent. Don't you know about them?" She lowered her voice. "They're the biggest gang in the school. They control most of the drug sales around the neighborhood. And who knows what other crimes they're into."

"At my uncle's shop down the street," Jessica said, "he has to pay them protection money every month so the store doesn't get robbed." She bent her head closer to us, eyes gleaming with the anticipation of sharing a particularly juicy piece of gossip. "And they say that all the most important gang members have tattoos somewhere on their body, showing their rank in the organization."

"What?" I said. "Creepy."

"Yeah," Jessica continued, her eyes bright with excitement. "Watch the next time Riley opens his mouth. You'll see his gang marking on his tongue."

"Eww," I said, wrinkling my nose. "That's gross."

Leah shook her head. "Stop it, Jessica."

Undeterred, Jessica whispered, "Membership is supposed to be secret, but some of these guys like to brag about it. That's why Riley has his gang tattoo on his tongue, so he can show off." She leaned closer. "The only thing no one knows is the identity of their leader."

"Jessica, stop spreading rumors. You're scaring Bella."

Jessica shook her head. "All of this is completely true, I swear. I heard it from a girl who dated one of their members. She told me not to tell anyone on pain of death!" she whispered in a dramatic voice.

Leah rolled her eyes, but I had to admit I was fascinated.

"They call him 'the Captain,'" the blonde whispered, "and they say he's been running the gang since he was twelve years old. They say that even though he's only a high school student, he's already lost count of the number of people he's had killed." She narrowed her eyes as she imparted this bit of scandal.

"And this is a student in our high school?" I shivered.

Jessica nodded. "Lots of the students in this school are members. You'd be surprised."

A thought occurred to me. "Leah," I whispered, "Jacob isn't one of…" My voice trailed off.

Leah shook her head violently. "Of course not! He wouldn't be involved in anything like that."

I sighed with relief and dug into my lunch bag. Pulling out a ham-and-cheese sandwich, I bit into it eagerly. "Oh, I'm so hungry today!"

"You're always hungry," retorted Leah.

I waved my sandwich at her, scattering bits of ham and breadcrumbs on the table. "That's not true!"

"Can you remember the last time you weren't hungry?"

I put my head on one side, considering. "Well," I said, "there was this one time Charlie took me to an all-you-can-eat buffet—"

Both girls raised their heads as someone approached from behind me. Leah dropped one eyelid at me in a brief wink. I twisted in my seat and saw Edward walking toward us, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He was dressed casually in a black cotton shirt and jeans.

"Good afternoon, Bella."

"H-hi, Edward," I stuttered. I hoped the heat in my cheeks was not obviously visible. Seeing him close by, again, I couldn't help thinking of Leah's and Jessica's persistent comments and teasing. A glimpse of his collarbones visible at the open neck of his shirt drew my attention, and I had to force myself to look away, telling myself it was rude to stare.

After a long beat gazing at me, his eyes flicked upwards to the other girls. He nodded politely. "Hello, Leah, Jessica." They ducked their heads and muttered in return. "I hope you haven't forgotten drama club this afternoon," he said to me.

"Of course not!" I said. "I'm looking forward to it!"

"See you then." He walked away, and I found myself watching his legs moving beneath the close-fitting designer jeans.

Leah waved her hand in front of my eyes, breaking my gaze. She was grinning broadly. "So you do like him after all."

I shrugged, ignoring the flush rising in my cheeks. I took another bite of my forgotten sandwich. Leah scrutinized my face. "Don't you think he's hot?" she asked.

Jessica sniffed, her nose in the air.

I smiled, looking down at my hands. "Well," I said softly, "yeah."

"And he likes you."

"We're just going to read a play together," I protested. "That doesn't mean he likes me."

Leah gave me a knowing smile. "He likes you."

After school that day, I dropped off my books in my locker and headed to room 325. It was a small, empty third-floor classroom toward the back of the school, overlooking a gas station and a row of auto body shops. I sat down at one of the desks to wait.

I heard murmuring in the hall outside and the shadows of three people fell on the pebbled glass pane. A moment later, Edward came in. The light from the windows glinted off one of the lenses of his glasses. His clothes were crisp and perfectly arrayed as always, but his hair was a little messy, part of it falling over his forehead. It was thick and glossy and I couldn't help blushing as I remembered Jessica's comments and wondered what it would be like to brush it back from his face, to run my fingers through those dark curls, to feel their warmth against my skin.

"I hope I'm not late." He touched my shoulder casually, and I felt a tingle spread from the caress of his fingers all the way down my arm and across my breasts.

I grinned. "Yes, sorry, I already ate up all the Shakespeare. It was delicious. Tasted like brownies." I patted my stomach. "See? All gone."

He laughed and sat next to me, sliding our two desks closer together. Our shoulders brushed and my heart raced. I peeked out of the corner of my eye at his profile. "Is Shakespeare as tasty as brownies?" he said, his hands paging gracefully through the book.

Maybe not, I thought to myself, but why does everything about you make me think of chocolate? His eyes were exactly the color of the brownie batter in the pan, rich and sweet and warm, and dangerously high calorie.

"There's a lot of drama around chocolate these days." I pulled a foil-wrapped package out of my backpack and unwrapped it, keeping my eyes away from his face. If I looked at him again I was going to turn altogether too red. "Stage brownies," I announced, folding back the foil. I was going to say, "Ta-da," but stopped mid-sentence at the mess in the package.

I stared at the heap of crumbs. "I fail as a drama nerd," I said, my cheeks hot. "I cut the brownies in the shapes of those smiling and frowning comedy and tragedy masks, but I guess it didn't work." Everything had gotten squished together and it was just a big mess of sweet brown crumbs.

He didn't seem to mind. "Masks are so tasty," he said, popping a morsel in his mouth. "Mmmm—chocolate roles."

I choked at his bad pun. "What a nutty act." Lame.

He smirked. "A sweet play on words." He picked up another piece and held it to my lips. Still trying to think up a reply, I opened my mouth involuntarily and my tongue brushed across his fingertips. They were sweet and smooth and warm. My face got so hot I couldn't think straight.

Why was he even showing interest in me? I was his competitor in class.

"Uh oh." His eyes focused on my lips.

"What?"

He touched a finger to my mouth, ran it slowly over my lower lip. I sat, unable to move. Without taking his eyes from mine, he held up his finger, paused, and then, very deliberately, licked it.

I couldn't help staring at his tongue as it circled his lips. "Wha—"

"You had chocolate on your mouth. I just wanted to make sure it didn't interfere with your reading your part."

I closed my eyes and swallowed, trying to get my heartbeat under control. I was not ready for this. I sucked at flirting, as my friends were always eager to inform me.

Behind my closed lids, Charlie frowned at me. "Boys only want one thing. You need to be a good girl."

My mother's voice echoed in my head. "Men don't like women who beat them in contests." I squeezed my eyes further shut. Why was it all so confusing?

Edward cleared his throat. "We should get started on Othello," he said in an altogether different tone.

I opened my eyes. He was paging through the book, his expression serious and brisk.

Of course. I must have been imagining all the innuendos. He just thought the brownies were tasty, that was it. Not flirting after all.

"You and your friends looked like you were having a fairly intense conversation at lunch." He found the page he was searching for and pressed the book open at the binding. His fingers were long and slender, tipped by the long, clean ovals of his nails. I forced myself to focus on the pages of the book.

"Huh? Oh, not really," I said. "They were just talking about gangs in our high school."

He arched one eyebrow. It drew attention to his thickly-lashed dark eyes. I shook myself. Concentrate on what he's saying, not his eyebrows for goodness' sake.

He leaned his cheek on his knuckles. "That's kind of a strange topic, isn't it?"

"I had just accidentally crashed into Riley Biers and spilled my books all over the floor, and they were warning me about him."

"Ah, the notorious Riley. I hope he didn't give you any trouble."

"Edward, do you think there are gangs here in Forks?"

He leaned back in his seat, ran a hand through his thick hair and considered me, dark eyes intent behind his glasses. "I suppose they exist in every high school."

"Do you know anyone who's a gang member? Are they really as dangerous as people say they are?"

He gave a small chuckle. "I doubt it. I think teen gangs exist as a reaction to the rules of our society." His voice was low but forceful. "Teenagers are basically powerless; we live under the control of adults, we're not allowed many of the rights most citizens take for granted—to vote, to determine where we can spend our days, where we can work, where we can go for entertainment." His voice was soft and deep and intense as velvet. "We're technically legal adults at eighteen, but we still can't enter bars; we can't even rent cars until we're twenty-five. We're essentially second-class citizens."

"I never really thought about it like that."

He gave me a reassuring smile. "I wouldn't worry about gangs here."

"But Riley—" I shuddered. "He looks like he'd be capable of anything."

Edward shrugged. "I'm not afraid of him and you shouldn't be either. I'm sure he just wants to scare everybody. It's why he puts on that tough-guy image."

"It seems there's always something scary on the news."

"Older adults are threatened by teenagers. We're young, we're stronger than them, and we're better looking." His gaze dropped briefly below my neckline before coming back to my eyes. "We're full of energy and we're in their faces." His smile was wider now. "Of course they focus on the negatives. They want to keep us afraid of each other."

"That almost sounds like you're in favor of teen gangs existing."

"Of course not—they're illegal," he replied. "But I don't think they're as bad as the press they get." He shifted in his seat. "Now, should we get to work on the reading?"

We read Desdemona's and Othello's lines for a couple of hours and I managed—mostly—to keep my mind on the play. It wasn't until Edward announced it was enough for the day that I shook myself and blinked at the time.

"I didn't realize you knew so much about Shakespeare, Edward."

He gave me a neutral glance. "I find his work intellectually stimulating."

I stifled a giggle at his comment. I couldn't tell if he was putting me on or if he was serious. "Is English your favorite subject?"

He shook his head and a lock of hair fell in his eyes. "No, I like chemistry the best."

"You do? That's my favorite subject too! I want to study biochemistry, because I think there are so many interesting discoveries that are waiting to be made about the chemical processes in the human body. I think that it's biochemistry that'll really help people live longer and healthier lives." Oops. I was babbling again, just like Leah and Jessica kept warning me.

But Edward didn't appear to mind. "Oh, I agree. Besides, pharmaceuticals are the wave of the future. There's plenty of money to be made in that arena." He rested his chin on his hand. "I don't plan to be poor all my life, like most of the kids around here." He zipped up his backpack and glanced at his cell phone. "I'm sorry—I need to get to my internship."

"You're an intern?"

"I've got a part-time job as a lab assistant at a local company. Nothing special. But it helps my family pay the bills."

After he left, I sat for a moment in the empty classroom as it got slowly darker outside. He was definitely flirting. But why did he stop? Was it because I didn't know how to flirt back?

I heard my mother's voice again. "Don't get a swelled head, a plain girl like you." I wrinkled my nose. The last time I went on a date with someone my friends suggested it didn't turn out well.

Forget it. I wasn't interested.