Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. Enjoy.
As promised, Edward Cullen delivered his absence note during Tuesday's class. He dropped it onto my desk without even giving me a second glance, making his way to his assigned seat. I tried to make eye contact with him as I picked up the note, tried to offer back some acknowledgment. A smile even. But he only looked downwards at his textbook, flicking through the pages. The afternoon sunlight trickled through the glass windows that looked out onto the football field. The light made Edward's hair look more auburn than brown today, it was wild as per usual, almost as if it had a mind of its own. I traced my eyes over the note as the last of my students entered the room. I marvelled at the crisp cursive handwriting of whom I assumed to be his father. The note written on a fancy letterhead, thick paper, stamped with Dr. Cullen's details at the bottom.
Edward looked bored for a majority of my lesson, his attention only seeming to spike when I conferenced one on one with Mike Newton during an independent task. I peered past Mike's shoulder to see him smirking. He looked amused. Something was different about his face. His eyes also looked different today.
I thought back to our interaction outside The Mill. His eyes were darker then.
I lamented how it made me uncomfortable to think I could run into students while out socializing. Angela seemed unfazed, but I didn't like finding myself in a situation where a student had the inclination to ask me if I should be driving home.
Did I actually look drunk? I tried to remember my appearance.
Renée always said I had a tendency to overthink things and I suspected that's exactly what I was doing about this interaction. It was normal to run into students locally. Forks was a small town. Edward's question, although a little rude in his delivery, was not out of line.
Mike tapped his pen on his page as if he knew I wasn't paying attention. I focused my attention back on his very confusing written response. What Mike lacked in brains, he sure made up for in enthusiasm.
"I think what you're trying to say here is that he isn't a cold-blooded killer... That he's maybe a tragic hero?" I said pointedly to Mike as I stood up and surveyed my students in the room.
My attention was caught on the murmur that escaped Edward's lips.
"Excuse me, Mr. Cullen, do you have something to share?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
He shook his head.
"No, go on."
He looked back at me defiantly. He would not speak.
I felt myself getting hot. I moved to my computer and quickly checked my anecdotal notes.
"It's week four and I only have you contributing twice, you're due to enlighten us with your thoughts."
He cleared his throat. "I was thinking about what you said earlier." A smile crept across his face. "You're wrong. Macbeth is not a tragic hero."
His words hit me, hard. I felt my mouth open and then close, thinking of a response.
The mood of the classroom shifted. I watched as my students looked at me wide eyed, waiting for my response.
Was he actually listening earlier, or had he been listening in as I haphazardly tried to get Mike's written response on some kind of track?
He continued. "He is weak, and he lacks the qualities to be a hero. He neglects his wife. He is stupidly drunk on power. A man should be responsible for his own actions."
The classroom remained silent.
I took a breath. "Thank you, Edward, your points are valid and I hope you're expanding on them in your written response."
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Maybe next time, rather than flat out telling me that I'm wrong, you could instead say 'I don't agree?'"
The class broke out in a slight giggle. A hum.
Edward rolled his eyes and looked out the window.
The bell signalling the end of the period seemed to save us all then. The class dispersed out of the room, Edward one of the first to leave.
I sighed and made my way to the staff room. I needed a coffee and a snack. My head throbbed.
"What's wrong, Bella? You look a little glum." Mrs. Prescott, the biology teacher came and took a seat next to me. I curled up onto the couch and tucked my chin into the space between my knees.
"Have you ever had a student that you are convinced just doesn't like you?" I mumbled, embarrassed at my admission.
"Sure! Plenty of them! I collect them!" She laughed and turned to face me.
"They are not all going to like you, Bella. It's not how teaching works. Sometimes you connect with some and others not so much. Try and not take it personally."
I frowned. It wasn't the answer I had wanted to hear.
The rest of the week passed quickly, the weekend's arrival a relief. I kept myself busy. I took Mrs. Prescott's advice and tried not to take Edward's behavior personally, but I couldn't help but notice it.
He grunted at me on Wednesday when I took attendance, moved his seat purposely away from me when I delivered part of my mini lesson from a nearby empty desk on Thursday and spent Friday's lesson staring off into space delivering rehearsed answers when called upon. I'd never had a student like Edward before and I was completely stumped. I couldn't understand why there was no connection, why he didn't like me, why he didn't smile and laugh like all the other students in the class. I'd taught 'all sorts' as Angela has described but Edward was something else entirely.
I couldn't pinpoint why Edward's behavior bothered me so much. It gnawed at me, and I found myself thinking about it far too much, my mind never quiet, always trying to find the missing piece of the Edward Cullen puzzle. I thought about other disinterested and disengaged students in my classes, Tyler Crowley a perfect example of one. Tyler's yawning and lack of interest was obvious, and his output of work downright pathetic, but at least he smiled when I made eye contact with him. He gave me something, anything. What was it about Edward?
I purposely made sure I left my work at work come Friday afternoon, only bringing home my laptop. The papers on my desk could wait; I needed a break. My weekend plans so far only consisted of a phone call with Renee and dinner with Charlie, Billy and Jacob Black. I needed some down time and to come back to school on Monday with a clear head.
It turns out that Billy and Jacob Black's visit on Saturday night was exactly what I needed. I had fuzzy memories of their visits when I was a teen, but they were warm memories. Jacob was only two years younger than me, but seemed beyond his age. Nothing had really changed all these years later. Although Jacob was no longer boyish and goofy, but rugged and tall... like really tall. His long ponytail had long been cut off, his hair a buzz cut all over. While his body had changed into that of a man, his smile still remained. His beaming grin was still that of the boy I remembered from vacations past.
He towered over me in the small kitchen. We awkwardly moved around each other as I finished making the salad and he searched for cutlery and plates, setting the table.
"So how are you liking Forks, Bella?"
I peered into the oven, checking the lasagna. Shutting the oven door, I traced the outline of the door with my finger, feeling the gaps in the seal. The oven, a chef model from the '80s, had taken me a few attempts to conquer, but like my relationship with Forks, we were beginning to understand each other.
"It's good... quiet, but good."
He smiled at me, taking a seat at the table and helping himself to a beer. "Charlie would never admit it, but he was pretty thrilled to hear you were coming back. He really did love having you here on your previous visits."
I nodded. "It's nice being here with him. Making up for lost time, I guess?"
He began to clear his throat. "I am kind of surprised. Let's be honest, you made it pretty obvious you thought Forks sucked when you were here."
I laughed and threw my oven mitt at him. He caught it swiftly and waved it over his head.
"You're the second person to tell me that. Angela basically said the same thing."
He stood up and moved towards me with the mitt in tow. "So, if it sucks here so much, why'd you come back?" He snatched a cucumber from the salad bowl and chomped loudly as he made his way, bowl in his hands, back to the table.
I busied myself checking on the lasagna and garlic bread in the oven, thankful for the returned mitt.
"Look, I probably made it out like I was more miserable than what I actually was when I was here. I was a teenager...I was moody! I actually do have some really nice memories here, some of them even involve hanging out with you." My attempt at flirtation and diverting the conversation wasn't working.
He raised his eyebrows, he wanted me to continue.
"Straight after college, my boyfriend and I broke up. Renee was grating on me... a lot. Charlie and I had been talking more often and he mentioned a few times that house prices were low at the moment in Forks. Kept dropping hints that maybe I could consider buying something here. Arizona suddenly sucked way more than Forks ever could. So I figured, why not? What's the worst that can happen?"
A comfortable silence fell between us.
"What about you? What have you been doing with yourself?" I moved to the table and took a seat, taking a cheeky swig of Jacob's beer.
"Basically caring for Billy and working on the reservation, nothing too exciting."
I nodded. He seemed a little guarded, like he didn't want to tell me too much. I prodded further. "What kind of work are you doing?"
"I do a bit of guidance counselling at the school, and otherwise still keeping up with my mechanic work, still fixing bikes..." he raised his eyebrows at me, before snatching the beer out of my hand. I laughed, remembering the time I turned up to the reservation with a scrap motorcycle, stating that I wanted to learn how to fix it. I didn't learn how to fix a bike that summer, but I did watch Jacob fix one.
"I'm actually spending more and more time at the school these days. They need a lot of help… The kids need help." He tapped his fingers against the beer bottle. He looked like he wanted to tell me more.
"Oh yeah? Have you thought about reaching out to the Education Department to get someone to come in?" I reached out and took the bottle from him.
Jacob laughed. "C'mon Bella, you know what everyone is like at the rez. That hasn't really changed. We keep everything within the reservation, like it's always been. But we do make exceptions, for people like you and Charlie." He winked at me.
I took a final swig, finishing the beer. "All I'm saying is that if you need help, you should ask for it. The Department has plenty of great resources, people you can talk to."
Jacob stood up and made his way to the fridge, helping himself to another beer.
"So, are you seeing anyone?"
My breath caught in my throat. His question caught me off guard.
"Uh, no." I stuttered out, quickly making my way to the oven. The lasagna and bread were done, the edges of the lasagna tray crispy, yet still glistening with sauce and cheese. I felt him behind me. He wasn't touching me, but he was close enough to be.
"Good. Me neither." I could hear the smile in his voice.
It was then that Billy wheeled into the kitchen with Charlie following suit.
"Bella's just about to dish up, perfect timing."
I gave Jacob a smirk and proceeded to plate up.
Dinner went off without a hitch. Billy and Jacob helped themselves to several servings, and Charlie brought out a pie he'd picked up from the diner for dessert.
The Blacks left late in the evening. Jacob and I didn't really get much of a chance to talk one on one again, swept up in Billy and Charlie's banter.
He did leave me his phone number, and we tentatively planned to go on an apparently 'short' hike on a trail just behind the house in the next few weeks. Something about a meadow. He'd text me.
That evening I had the best night's sleep in weeks.
Thank you to my beta team TheBaseBallGirl, Teaandsolitude & JennaReads x