As soon as I got home, I powered up my clunky old laptop and began to self-consciously research all that Jake had told me. I typed in everything I could think of, starting with Vampires. This was way too broad a search, and almost none of what came up was relevant. There was plenty of lore about vampires: supposedly, they had no shadows or reflections, and their image could not be captured on film. They survived on human blood, but were by most accounts immortal. They could be killed with a stake through the heart, garlic or holy water, and they could not enter an abode without an invitation. Some stories described horrible, rotting corpses, fire-eyed demons from hell, or skeletal creatures who never blinked. Other stories described unearthly beautiful creatures, like sirens or angels, who used their beauty to entrap their victims. Most websites reported that vampires had inhuman speed and strength, regenerative powers and occasionally even magic. It said that some famous vampires were telepathic.

How ridiculous. This couldn't all be true. So far I had only seen the Cullens in the daytime. And Edward's eyes did change color, it was true, but he hardly looked like a fire-eyed demon from hell. If anything, I was more inclined to believe the theory that vampires were unnaturally beautiful. The Cullens certainly had that going for them.

I tried narrowing my search, adding in keywords like Quileute, Cold Ones, and werewolves. This didn't give me much more information, but I did notice that there were one or two obscure books on Quileute tribal history that might provide more answers. Feeling silly, I wrote down the titles and authors of the books, along with the address of a shop in Port Angeles that sold them, and stowed the paper in my bag.

I looked up and realized it was already past one in the morning. I hadn't even noticed the passage of time, but now my long day caught up to me. I flopped onto my bed and fell asleep still clothed.


Edward sat at a desk beside Jasper, paying close attention to his brother's thoughts. Jasper was careful not to breathe too much during school hours—although his ensuing quiet had the side-effect of giving him a reputation for dullness. Edward, who shared several of his classes with Jasper as a sort of bodyguard, did not share this opinion. Jasper's nose and mouth may have been sealed shut, but he delighted in thinking cheeky thoughts at his adopted brother.

I wonder if Sister Maria-Teresa would ease up if I made her feel extra-penitent. She seems the sort to get a real thrill out of guilt. I think I'll try. Jasper was clearly baiting Edward. And it was working.

"Do you mind?" Edward hissed.

"Mr. Cullen," barked Sister Maria-Teresa, a walnut-faced nun. "If you have something to say, you will say it aloud, to me, and to no one else. I don't know how they did it at your old school, but here at St. Boniface, we obey the dicta of common courtesy."

"Yes, Sister," said Edward.

Busted, thought Jasper gleefully.

"Oh, go fly a kite," whispered Edward, too low for a human's ears to hear.

"Mr. Cullen," snapped Sister Maria-Teresa. Edward's head whipped up. How on earth had she heard that? Oh lord a'mighty, he had always been afraid of nuns. No reason to stop now.

"Forgive me, Sister," he said contritely.

"God forgives," said Sister Maria-Teresa, advancing on her recalcitrant student with a ruler in her hand. "I discipline. Now, hands out, palms up. Both of them."

Oooh, this is going to hurt, thought Jasper with a considerable amount of Shaedenfreude.

No it's not, thought Edward. But he didn't dare say it aloud. This nun clearly had vampire ears grafted over her regular, god-given ones. He held his hands out, palms up. The ruler came down once, twice, three times. Edward remembered just in time to wince as if it hurt, although really it felt no worse than being slapped around by a toddler.

"Now," said Sister Maria-Teresa smugly, turning her back and walking back to the board, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking horribly on the linoleum. "Back to Algebra."

Poor sap, thought mental voices all around him. He tried to shut them out. Vampires could still feel humiliation, even if they didn't mind the sting of a switch.

I wonder if he's lonely, thought a wistful female voice he'd never noticed before. He looked around the room, but all eyes were forward. The backs of all these heads looked pretty much the same: girls in braids and ponytails, buzzcut and wet-combed boys. He listened again for the voice, but whoever it was remained silent.


That weekend passed in a blur. I was exhausted, yet too restless to nap. I was distracted by thoughts of Edward and vampires, but whenever I tried to focus on that I only ended up feeling stupider than ever. Eventually I managed to settle into finishing my essay for Mr. Banner. It was far from my best writing ever, but it would do.

Then I downloaded Mahler 5 on iTunes and lay on my bed, imagining Edward's voice reciting a love poem in German. That had to mean something, didn't it? He wouldn't do that for a girl he didn't care anything about, surely.

Or would he? The problem was that I didn't have enough information. I knew a few scattered facts about Edward—his age (supposedly), his family situation (assuming that was all true), that he was very, very smart—but I could tell I had only scratched the surface of whatever it was that made him tick. Had he had lots of girlfriends before? No one at Forks, or Jessica would have told me. Besides, of all the Cullens he seemed the most introverted. His sisters always smiled at me in a distant, friendly sort of way when we passed in the hallways. I saw his brother Emmett goofing off with the other seniors. Even Jasper was involved in the school's tiny band.

But Edward? I barely ever saw him speak two words to anyone other than his family. And me, of course.

The thought made me happier than it should.


It was another week before Edward heard the girl's voice again.

"Have you finished your essay for Sister Stephanine yet?" she asked. Edward looked up from where he was sitting, past the dingy white knee socks and scabbed knees and second-hand pleated skirt and ill-fitting white blouse, into a pair of friendly green eyes swimming in a sea of freckles.

Edward had finished the essay a few hours after it was assigned. It was easy for him: Sister Stephanine taught Recent American History and had demanded three pages on WWI. Aside from the oddness of calling it anything other than the Great War, Edward had had no trouble with it: he'd eagerly read the papers at the time and knew all there was to know about the major battles.

"No," he said, smiling. "You?"

I wonder if I'm brave enough to ask him for help, the girl thought. "I can't seem to get started," she said. "I bet you won't have any trouble with it, though. You always have the answers in class."

Oddly, in two whole months of class, Edward had never once heard the girl referred to by her first name, although from roll-call in the few classes they shared, he knew her surname to be Moore. She never raised her hand and was rarely called on. Edward knew now, hearing both her actual and her mental voice together, why he hadn't been able to identify her before: her out-loud voice was thin and flat, and didn't even remotely match the dreamy, beatific voice in her head.

"It's nothing more than a matter of motivation," he said. "I'm Edward."

"Sally," said the girl, sticking out her hand. Edward looked at it, his mind spinning. Did he dare touch a human? That was something he hadn't done since...well, since that terrible period before Rosalie came to live with them. But Sally was waiting. And although she smelled more than delicious, Edward was reasonably confident that he would be able to keep his perspective. She seemed too nice to eat.

"It's pleasant to finally meet you properly," he said, shaking her hand for the briefest time possible.

Goodness, he's cold, thought Sally. All right, now ask. Just ask him!

"Would you like to work on our essays together?" Edward asked, sparing her what was obviously a huge struggle. She blinked at him in surprise.

"Oh," she said. "I..."

"Or not," said Edward. "We don't have to."

"I'd love to!" she blurted out. "I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Well, that's settled, then," said Edward. "Could you stay after school for an hour or two? We could work on it in the library."

"Wouldn't Sister Francine shush us?" I hate Sister Francine, she thought, remembering the time when the wizened librarian had told her off for ten minutes for wearing a rumpled shirt.

"We could work at it at my house," Edward offered, and then wished he could bite off his own tongue: it didn't seem fair to suddenly bring a human into his family's safe haven without warning.

"Okay," she said, smiling happily. Mom and Grandmother won't even notice, she thought. "Are you far away? I usually ride the bus. My mother doesn't have a car, but as long as it's near enough to walk..."

"Oh, it's pretty far," said Edward. In fact the Cullens never bothered with the bus—too small and enclosed a space, with too many hormonal blood-bags stuffed inside like Spam in a tin. They preferred instead to run to and from school, slowing to a walk when they got close enough to be seen. "My father has a car, and we could drive you home afterward. But won't your parents mind you being late?"

"It's only me and Mom and Grandmother," said Sally, "and they're working most of the time. They won't even be home till after dinner."

"Well, then you should stay for dinner, too," said Edward. Immediately he wanted to kick himself for once again not thinking of his siblings—it was unfair to ask them to pretend to eat in front of a stranger all night. But Sally was always by herself; he usually saw her drifting around the outside of the school cliques, looking dingier than everyone else, lost in her own world. He wanted to do something for her.

"That would be lovely," she said, beaming. The bell rang, signalling the end of lunch, and Sally smiled one last time and departed, her thoughts brighter than before, her mental voice positively glowing.

"Em!" Edward called desperately, spotting his brother across the quad. "Help me! I just invited Sally Moore over to work on homework and have dinner. Don't you have a free period coming up? I need someone to warn Esme. I'm sorry this is so sudden, I wasn't even thinking..."

"Hey, no worries, little brother," said Emmett, slapping Edward heartily on the back. "I'll see to everything. Just make sure you tell Alice and Jasper so they aren't surprised when there's a human wandering around the house."

"Thanks, Emmett," said Edward gratefully. "I owe you one."


On Monday morning, I woke with glee in my heart. I would be seeing Edward again today! Nothing could possibly dampen my mood. Especially not with the sun beaming so gloriously through the windows of the Thing as I drove to school. Nothing could go wrong on a beautiful day like this!

Except the one thing that could possibly ruin my day: the Cullens were absent from school. All of them. Their table was empty at lunch, and I sat alone at my empty Bio table afterward. I knew it was ridiculous to feel so let down. Edward didn't owe me anything. Just because I had been thinking about him all weekend didn't mean he had been thinking about me. It wasn't as if his life revolved around me.

Nothing could pull me out of my grump until Jessica and Angela cornered me after school.

"I know you're not going to the dance for some ridiculous reason," said Jessica, "but you really need to have some girl-time with us. Ange and I are going to Port Angeles tomorrow to look for dresses, and you should come."

"I...should?" I echoed, looking from Jessica to Angela.

"Yep," affirmed Angela. "You should."

"Well...okay, then," I said. "What time are we going?"

"After school," said Jessica. She turned to Angela. "That was easy," she said.

"Yeah," said Angela. "Didn't see that coming." They both grinned saucily at me and left. Was I really that antisocial? I'd gone to the beach with them, hadn't I? I just wasn't big on gossip. I still liked doing fun things. Things like reading and researching stuff on the internet...

Okay, maybe they had a point.


"You live here?" Sally breathed, taking in her first sight of the sprawling Cullen house. Nestled deep into the greenery of Ithaca, with a wide patio on one side that looked over a sheer drop-off into a fern-filled gorge, it looked like something out of a periodical.

"Mm-hmm," Edward said. "Here, come on in." He held the door for her and noticed how she seemed even shabbier in the middle of such elegant surroundings. But her voice softened and deepened as she talked, gradually coming to match the tone of her thoughts: a golden voice, as golden as the sun.

"I think you must be very happy to live in a place like this," she said, and Edward was impressed that there was not a trace of envy in her mind.

"My mom designed it herself," Edward said proudly.

"She did?" asked Sally, surprised.

"Sure," said Edward. "My dad's at the hospital most of the time, so she wanted something to occupy her time. She loves designing houses. And restoring them. She's designed the last three houses we've lived in. And the one before that was a barn she converted to a house."

"Am I going to get to meet your parents?" Sally asked. Edward was, once again, surprised: Sally, unlike every other teenager he met at school, didn't seem constrained by the usual social limitations. She liked meeting parents; she didn't like gossiping, even when the opportunity presented itself. And, unlike most, she actually said what she thought. After all, Edward would know.

"Sure," said Edward. "Mom?" he called loudly, although he knew his mother had probably heard all of this anyway. "Are you home?"

"Hello, dear," said Esme, appearing under the wide French arch into the living room. Is this she? she thought eagerly. So Emmett had made it home in time to warn Esme. That was good.

"Mom, this is my friend Sally. Is it alright if she works on homework with me? We have an essay due in a few days."

"Of course," said Esme, smiling warmly and taking Sally's hand. "I'm Mrs. Cullen. Are you hungry?"

Bemused, Sally just nodded. She's his mother? she thought. But...how?

Esme disappeared back into the kitchen, where Edward could clearly hear her banging things around in an attempt to sound like she hadn't already arranged a beautiful spread of fruit, fresh milk, and cookies. Goodness, had she made a batch of cookies just for Sally? She must have worked quickly.

"That's your mother?" Sally asked in a whisper.

Oooh, here it comes, thought Esme from afar. Be careful, darling.

"She and Carlisle adopted me when I was ten," explained Edward. This was the cover story he and his family had agreed upon, although they'd never yet had call to use it here. "But my birth mother died a long time ago. Esme's my mom now."

She's so wonderful, thought Sally. "She's so wonderful," said Sally.

"She really is," agreed Edward. "I would have been thrown into an orphanage straightaway if not for Esme and Carlisle. I owe them everything. I owe them all that's good about me." He said this last more for Esme's sake than for Sally's.

That's not true, darling, thought Esme. "Here you go, kids," she said brightly, sweeping down the two short steps into the living room with a tray. She looked like a picture advertisment in her full skirt and matching pumps; she even had a string of pearls resting on her collarbone. She set the tray on the coffee table and swept right back out of the room. Edward could hear how much she was enjoying playing homemaker; even if he couldn't read minds, he would have noticed the twinkle in her eye as she spun to make her petticoats twirl around her.

"So, World War One," said Sally, helping herself to a cookie. "I've no idea where to start."

"Maybe we could start with the Battle of the Marne," suggested Edward, "and work backward from there."


ETA: Thanks ded1 for pointing out that the Battle of the Bulge was not, in fact, a WWI battle. Fixed now!

Now. Let's talk about mind-reading and empathy, shall we? Edward is very open about the disgust he has for human beings, especially teenagers. His main objections seem to be that:

1. Sometimes people think mean or unfair things and

2. Teenagers don't think and act like fully-matured adults, which is bad...for some reason.

I have a problem with this. For one thing, of course teenagers are immature. The definition of "immature" is "not grown up yet". You have to make it through the growing-up part before you can actually be a grown-up. Does he think this stuff is supposed to happen overnight at the age of twelve? My grandmother doesn't think of herself as being done "growing up". Edward is basically looking down on people who are younger than him for being younger than him.

For another thing, thinking negative thoughts but doing good things is the sign of a person overpowering their demons. If Jessica has catty thoughts about Bella, but still makes every effort to befriend her, why is Edward fixating on the catty thoughts and not on the impulse that directed her to overcome them and act with kindness instead? He thinks of her as a hypocrite for not liking Bella all the time but acting like she does; he should be thinking of her as a saint for moving beyond the honest negative response that Bella inspires in her.

Added to this is the fact that Smeyer apparently thinks that the overwhelming majority of humans think mean things all the time. Hey, maybe she is so catty and mean inside her head that she has no way of knowing the rest of us are usually trying really hard to be fair. If Edward heard my inner monologue, he would hear the following:

"That fucking bitch just gave me the stink-eye okay calm down she's probably having a rough day maybe her face just looks like that who do you think you are anyway like you never give stink-eyes oh god you're spiraling think of something else UNICORNS ooh I'm hungry," and so on. And if it were canon-Edward, his response would be:

"Ugh. Revolting plebeian, with her uninteresting inner life. O how pleased I am that I need never be so low and unattractive, with such base and unworthy thoughts. Can she not see how petty she is? I shall scowl at her, that she may know she must improve herself." Thanks, Edward. You are a paragon of decency and kindness. I'll try to be more like you.

Edward makes clear that he has no empathy for his classmates, even though he has unfettered access to their daily inner struggles, their constant battle against their own hormones and the hormones of others, their fears that they will not amount to anything or that they will never feel loved, their anxiety about the messed-up world they are expected to inherit. He hears all that, and his response is still revulsion and disdain?

Edward has it backwards. He is more cold-hearted, unjust and sociopathically cruel than even the most villainous teenage human could ever hope to be.