Biology was a drag. Human anatomy I had already studied on my own. The benefit of having a doctor for a grandfather –who also happened to be several hundred years old—was that I was never at a loss for reading material. His library was lined with books of every kind, primarily medical journals. I found it fascinating to read the books throughout the years, how thinking changed over time, how treatments were discovered and improved. Human anatomy was an interest, mainly because I hoped to understand myself. My father and Grandfather Carlisle also spent most of their time measuring me, studying me, noting every new learned skill and discovered trait. If I showed a human trait, namely something that reminded my father of my mother, he would break out into a huge grin. My mother wasn't always so fond of the things he discovered – she more relished the side of me that took after my father. I adore both my parents – I was fine either way.

The drawback was, I still had to sit through the drudgery that was a typical life science class. While I found the subject fascinating to a point, mutilating a frog was not. The smell of formaldehyde attacked my heightened senses with a vengeance. I didn't know if I had the ability to vomit, and I wasn't keen on finding out.

Connar was waiting for me in the hall after my last class, which was study hall. It seemed really asinine to schedule a study hall at the end of the day, especially since it forced me to do homework at human speed rather than what I was capable of. Even after years of practice, sometimes I felt so stifled by trying to over emphasize my humanity.

"Hey," he said, smiling.

"Hey," I replied.

"I've got ball practice after school. You wanna watch me play?"

I almost said yes, but then I realized something my mother had asked me to do today.

"I'm sorry – I promised my mom that I would stop and see my grandfather on my way home today."

"Oh, OK then." He frowned. "Maybe another time?"

"Yeah," I said.

"See you tomorrow then."

As I watched him walk down the hall, something nagged at me. Something about the way he moved. It was too…deliberate. I shook my head to clear it. I must be imagining things. Maybe I needed to watch people more often. I probably was clouding how I viewed him with my own experiences.

I stopped by my locker to get my bag. Once I gathered my needed materials, I closed the door, letting it shut with a loud twang. I began the walk to my car.

The sun that had peeked earlier decided to hide again, and the slight breeze seemed to grow colder. I stood for a moment, letting my senses run wild, soaking up the fresh air. I closed my eyes. Mmm. Felt like snow.

It was then I heard a soft voice in the distance.

My eyes flew open with surprise, and I stilled myself to listen closer.

At first I didn't hear anything else. Just when I was going to give up, I heard it again, this time pleading:

"Please…don't do this."

It was a girl's voice, I thought. I looked around at the other students, also walking to their cars. No one seemed to hear anything out of the ordinary – at least, if they did, no one made a motion to help.

Then I heard…laughter. Laughter…with a touch of malice.

The second voice was deeper, resonant. A male voice, must be. Putting the two together made me uneasy.

I was near my car. I dashed over to it, unlocked the trunk and threw my bag in. I put the keys back in my jacket pocket as I walked toward where the sound was coming from. I allowed my senses to go on full alert, absorbing everything around me. I didn't hunt, but my family did teach me to track. We were natural predators, and those skills would help me survive, they thought. My survival had always been of utmost importance.

However, my father had also instilled in me not only a feeling of being protected, but of being a protector as well. We, as vampires, always walked the line between preying on and protecting the innocent. We always had to keep a hold of our baser instincts. If our gifts would be of any real purpose, he would say, it would be for the greater good, not to simply to be killers.

Whenever my mother, would hear him talk about this, she would roll her eyes at him.

"Edward," she would scold. "We're not superheroes. Remember?"

He would grin wickedly at her, and I would hear her breath catch when he did. I would smile at these little proofs of their love.

"My dear Bella," he would say. "Did you not think of me as a superhero once?"

She would become embarrassed as he would put his arms around her and start whispering how he missed her blush. I would turn away then, leaving them to their moment.

Now, though, those words burned through my mind as I got closer to the sound. Laughter. Fear. The mix made me ill. I could almost sense the tension and malice in the air.

I followed the sound to one of the far buildings. I slowed my pace and crept silently to the wall, sliding down its length as I edged closer to the corner of the building, leading to the rear of the school grounds.

I peered around the corner. There, up against a garage door, was that girl that I saw earlier in the hall. Her hood was thrown back now, her mousy hair blowing in the breeze. Her eyes were wide with panic, her knuckles while as she clutched the strap of her book bag.

There, standing in front of her, were three boys. They looked almost too old to be in school – they must be seniors, I thought. How else would they get onto grounds?

The largest one, who I guessed was the leader, loomed directly in front of her, his companions acting like wingmen on either side of him.

It was then I noticed their clothing for the first time. All three were dressed in black, but their clothes were worn, a bit dirty. Their hair black, greasy.

A string of profanities flew through my head. I guessed they were drifters, although I didn't know how they'd get back here. I turned to look around. We were quite a distance away from anyone else that would hear us…or get involved at all.

I turned back and saw the girl again, frightened, pushing herself against the metal door, the men creeping toward her.

I took in a deep breath and steeled my resolve. I stepped into the clearing.

"STOP!" I commanded.