The hour in detention seemed interminable. The longer I sat, the more I worried about what Carlisle and Esme would say. I knew I hadn't been amicable at home lately, and I did feel badly about worrying them. As my fixation on blood made me more irritable, I was speaking to them less and less, either in an effort to avoid offense, or to avoid the conversation Carlisle kept trying to push me into. He knew I was unhappy, and had shifted his work hours so his time at home overlapped more with mine. He did this because he thought I was lonely and needed to talk, but it only made me stay away from home for longer periods. I needed time to think, and it was impossible to do that with his thoughts always bombarding me with his worry and pity.

I had also noticed a new trend in Carlisle's mind: he had been blocking me out. He had learned to do this early on, when he realized how his thoughts about his patients- and their blood- affected me, as a newborn. When he and Esme married, his thoughts of her were often amorous and he realized the uncomfortable situation I was placed in. I tried to give them what privacy I could, and both of them did their best to school their thoughts around me, to ease my awkwardness as much as possible.

But in the last couple of weeks, I found Carlisle spending an inordinate amount of time running through medical knowledge in his head. Lists of discoveries over the centuries, the steps for complicated procedures, running through his medical dictionary in various languages, and so on. It was obvious he was hiding something from me, and my bitterness grew.

As I sat brooding in detention, a plan formed in my mind. Last month, when I had come home at an unexpected time, I had been able to eavesdrop on their conversation. I wondered if I could do it again – perhaps I could discover what Carlisle had been keeping from me. I knew that the phone call today regarding my detention must have spurred such a conversation; however, I had already been sitting her for an hour. I needed to give them a reason to keep talking.

When the teacher dismissed us, I asked his permission to use the school telephone. He led me to the office and, much to my annoyance, sat down to wait while I made my call.

I gave the secretary our home extension. When Esme answered, I used my annoyance at the teacher to let the anger build in my voice. "Mom, it's Edward. I just got out of detention."

"I know; your teacher called earlier. Sweetheart, I don't understand. How could you have gotten detention?"

"Old Mr. Davis just has it out for me. This school is driving me crazy, Mom." I did my best to imitate the sulkiness that I had observed in the teenage voices around me.

There was a rustling sound as Carlisle took the phone from Esme. "Son, you need to come home immediately. We need to talk about this."

"I'll be home later. I'm going out to grab a bite to eat first." My lips curved into a smile at my joke. This conversation was going exactly as I had planned.

"Edward! I asked you to come home, and you're going to do it."

"Dad, I'm really hungry. I'll be there as soon as I can." I slammed the phone on its hook dramatically, and sauntered out of the office. As soon as I left the school grounds, I checked around me to be sure no one was watching, and started running as fast as I could.

.

.

.

Running at top speed, I arrived home in less than five minutes. I felt badly about being so rude to my parents on the phone, but I needed this chance to find out what Carlisle had been hiding. Since they thought I was out hunting, they would talk freely for at least the next hour. I stopped running while I was still in the woods, close enough to listen through both of their minds. Sure enough, they were still talking about me. I settled down on the ground to listen.

I don't understand, Carlisle. He just hunted yesterday.

I don't either – this is the third time this week. And it's not like him to be so disrespectful. What am I supposed to say to him when he comes home?

I just hope he does come home! He's been staying out so much lately, I worry that one day he simply won't come back.

Surely things aren't that bad. But unless he is willing to confide in us, I can't help him. God knows I've been trying to reach him.

So have I. Maybe he just wants to work through this one on his own.

That's the problem, sweetheart. Edward is a smart boy, and he's learned so much. But the truth is that he was seventeen when he was changed. In many ways, he is always going to be at that difficult age. He's always going to need some guidance. And I don't know how to give it to him, Esme. I try to be a good father, but it's hard to know how to talk to someone who thinks himself a man, when in reality he can never reach full emotional maturity. I had hoped that in keeping us all to the animal diet, our baser instincts and strong emotions would stay suppressed. I know Edward hasn't slipped, but lately he's been acting more like a vampire than a human.

His mind raced through memories of the past several weeks as he had been observing me. Pictures of me with a tortured look on my face, my disheveled appearance as I returned from my frequent hunts, the closed door of my bedroom as he had often stood outside it, wondering if he should knock. His thoughts were interrupted by Esme's voice.

Do you think he's losing control?

I'm beginning to think so. He always looks thirsty lately. He's had to hunt more and more often, and just yesterday I got a call from the principal. A parent had complained that Edward had actually GROWLED at his son in the hallway.

I winced at the memory. It had been an accident – the boy had stepped on my foot as we pushed through the crowd on the way to class. I became angry and barely bit back the urge to snap at him, but I couldn't stop the growl that rumbled in my throat. The boy had looked frightened and had run off in the other direction. As a precaution, I had followed his thoughts for the next hour. He was thinking of me as a "freak" but I found no cause for alarm. I could only hope the boys I had frightened today in detention wouldn't speak to their parents, too.

He growled at someone? Carlisle, they're going to get suspicious!

I don't care about our façade, Esme, I care about our son! I raised my eyebrows at this. I had never heard him raise his voice to Esme before. I kept listening.

What are we going to do? I'm really worried about him.

So am I. If we were a human family, and my son was displaying this behavior, I'd be worried enough to go read his journal.

I gasped when I heard this. Surely he wouldn't dare!

You know he keeps it hidden now. Besides, it's not we have to worry about him having a drinking problem or running with the wrong crowd, or wanting to hurt himself.

It wouldn't work anyway – he'd know right away when he found my scent on it. Besides, I don't feel right infringing on his privacy. This isn't as simple as a human son going through something. Edward is an adult in as many ways as his is a child. We just have to be there for him and guide him as well as we can.

The conversation ended and I saw from Esme's mind that they were embracing. I turned to leave when Carlisle's private thoughts came through again.

This is getting out of hand. I'm the leader of this coven… this family. It's time for us to move again. Maybe a fresh start at a new school will help Edward... or it might be best if he stays home with Esme this time. I still don't know how to bring this up to Esme. She loves this house.

I could tell from his thoughts that this was what he had been hiding from me: his plan to move us again. For me to start high school yet again, or worse, to stay cooped up in the house while he goes to work. I loved Esme dearly, but I didn't want to spend my days sitting at home with her, researching architecture and sketching curtains. And I certainly wasn't going to start high school again. Just the thought made me so angry I lashed out at the nearest tree, cracking its trunk in half with my hand.

Listening to my parents' worried conversation was eye-opening. It was clear now that they thought of me as truly being seventeen, and worse, it appeared Carlisle believed I was never really going to grow up. The idea was preposterous. Just because my body was frozen at this age didn't mean I wasn't able to learn, to grow. Demetri's words came back to me from the previous year:

And you would have him sit day after day, with humans for company? Don't you want your 'son' to grow? To LEARN?

It was obvious from their words and thoughts that Carlisle and Esme still loved me deeply, so I tried not to be too angry. But Demetri's words rang true; Carlisle was holding me back. I was a vampire, and just because I wasn't acting as human as they wanted didn't mean anything was wrong with me. And now I was hearing that Carlisle was planning to begin the whole charade over again: new town, new house for Esme to work on, new hospital for him, new high school for me. A never-ending four-year cycle, for the rest of my existence. It was intolerable.