18. A Friday

Bella's stomach let out a soft little rumble again, and I nearly lost myself in a fit of rage.

I fought against the anger that rose up like lava within me, trying to temper it with cool reason. Eric Yorkie did not deserve to die for forgetting his lunch, I told myself. He should not be separated from his head— even if the separation were quick and efficient and nearly painless— simply because he had failed to grab the brown paper sack lunch his mother had left for him on the counter that morning. I was neither judge nor executioner, so I could not punish him for his sin, idiotic though it may be.

But Bella was hungry.

I pinched the bridge of my nose— my flesh was much sturdier than the chair leg I had nearly snapped in half— and tried to calm myself.

Bella hid her distress well. Her belly would thunder, but she wouldn't react. She wouldn't move, she wouldn't grimace. She just proceeded on as if she wasn't hungry, as if she were not suffering for the carelessness of Eric Yorkie.

Bella, the quiet martyr and all.

From what I could tell, I was the only one paying any attention to the groanings of her stomach— whether the humans were nearly deaf or they just didn't care, I wasn't sure— but it was enough to drive me to madness. How much did these fragile beings need to eat before they were in no danger of emaciation? What were the stages of starvation, again? I checked them off in my mind: ketosis, autophagy— she certainly wasn't breaking down muscle fiber yet, right?

But Bella was already thin. She didn't have the same energy reserves as some others of her species. What if her blood sugar dropped too low and the process started?

I nearly laughed. To think that I was concerned about her blood sugar and not the other qualities of her blood was ironic, indeed.

Why did she have to be so self-sacrificial? What good could come out of this? I thought back to the first time I had spoken to her, when I had asked her about why she had left her happy life in Arizona to come to a place like Forks. Bella had put her mother's happiness over her own. I shouldn't be surprised at this consistency of character. Bella was good and kind and altruistic to the point of self-detriment.

Earlier, at lunch, I had watched in quiet horror when she offered her plate to Eric. He hadn't even asked her for it.

"Why aren't you eating?" Angela had queried.

"Forgot my lunch," he shrugged. I could see it in his mind, sitting so forlornly on the kitchen counter. He was so hungry that he felt nauseous, but he couldn't bring himself to ask for a handout.

The exchange had left me thoroughly bored. I was waiting for one of them to engage Bella in conversation so that I could continue to catalogue her facial expressions, and Yorkie harping on about his hunger was nothing short of drivel.

That is, until I saw it on Bella's face: compassion. It was clearly there in the softness of her eyes, in the quick pursing of her lips, in the worried turn of her hands. Did Bella truly take pity on this stupid little creature who couldn't even remember to feed himself?

"Here, Eric, take some of mine." She had passed him almost all of her lunch— three chicken strips, a blob of ketchup, and some mixed vegetables— keeping only the apple for herself. "I had a big breakfast."

Except that she hadn't had a big breakfast. I knew because I had watched her stuff it into her mouth as she ran to her truck that morning. She only had one tiny square of warm bread spread with peanut butter. I tried to mentally calculate the number of calories in a slice of bread. Not much. Thankfully, peanut butter was calorie-dense, but she hadn't had much of that, either. A tablespoon, perhaps? Maybe two? How many calories did a girl of her size require in a day?

I panicked. Bella was certainly not eating enough.

What's wrong with you? Emmett had asked me, but I rose from my seat, carrying my whole tray of prop food with me. It was useless to me, after all. I had already ripped a large chunk off of the tomatoey, cheesy bread— pizza, they call it— but Bella could certainly eat the rest. I couldn't let her go hungry.

But I hadn't made it five steps away from the table when I saw how my decision would play out in Alice's mind: Bella, angry and embarrassed, her fellow humans asking probing questions about the nature of our relationship. Bella, asking me how I'd known she had given her lunch to Yorkie, growing suspicious—

Edward, you know that you can't—

I sighed, cutting Alice's bossy mental voice off with a subtle shake of my head, and redirected my steps towards the trash can instead. I dumped all of my food into the bin and slammed the tray on the table next to it with unnecessary force. I had to reach a little too quickly to steady the stacked trays before they all clattered to the floor.

Rosalie's mental voice rang out in my head. Disgusting. You're obsessed with a human, Edward. Can't you see how pathetic that is?

Jasper lectured, too, as if he had any room to chastise me. He was the one who almost killed a human every other day, yet here he was scolding me as if that would be any less catastrophic than me giving Bella half of a slice of pizza.

Alice had filled them all in on my silent drama. Perfect. Now I would have to listen to their lectures all weekend.

I paced the halls of building four until I was calm enough to walk to Biology. When Bella arrived and pretended I was invisible in her usual way, I had to clench my teeth together. I wanted to tell her that she was too kind. She was too good for her own well-being. She needed to look out for herself more and worry about the imbecile humans around her less. Couldn't she see that?

Perhaps she needed someone to look after her. Could I do that for her? Could I guard her from a distance?

An idea popped into my head. I rose, feigning the urge to use the restroom, and hurried back to the cafeteria. Lunches were over, but there was a vending machine just outside of the doors where the humans could buy snacks and candy and various types of junk food. I scanned the items for nutritional value, settling at last on a protein bar. I pulled out my wallet and bought two. Victorious— feeling rather proud of myself and my ingenuity— I marched back towards my hungry lab partner with my trophy in my pocket.

I scanned the minds around me to find Alice, looking to see whether or not she had a warning for me. She was focused, instead, on a magazine she had brought with her to class, completely unaware of me and how my decisions would affect the future. I decided to proceed.

Bella was still writing when I returned, copying down material from the textbook to study later. I plopped down next to her, aiming for casual. She didn't acknowledge my existence in the slightest. I quickly dropped the protein bars into my backpack, too fast for her eyes to see.

Slowly, deliberately— making an obscene amount of noise— I pulled one bar out of my backpack and freed it from the wrapper. Ugh— I held back a retch. It smelled revolting, but this was for Bella, so I pressed onward. Without further hesitation, I took one large, disgusting bite, chewing the nauseating chunk of granola with great effort.

The things I do for this little human! And she didn't even look at me.

I made more noise, excessively ruffling the wrapper and making chewing sounds.

Bella stopped writing. She put an elegant hand to her forehead and closed her eyes, acting like I was causing her pain. Perfect.

I gulped, already dreading the moment I would have to regurgitate this mess, and took another dramatically large bite.

Bella's eyes moved slowly— tediously— towards my hands. I heard her darling little teeth grind together, and I took my shot.

"Oh, are you hungry?" I asked, talking softly around my mouthful of grain. "How rude of me. Here. I have another." I reached into my bag and placed my prize on the table for her, feeling strangely primal, like a caveman procuring the spoils of my hunt for my woman. Should I beat my chest?

But Bella looked back to her textbook, disdain practically dripping from her frown. "No, thank you." As she spoke, her stomach lurched again, filling the air with the sound.

I stared at her in disbelief, my chewing forgotten. She was hungry. I knew it to be true. She was miserably, achingly hungry, and yet she refused me? Why? Why did this tiny little human leave me feeling like a lame animal after our every interaction? What was wrong with her?

Was it me? Would she have accepted the gift from Mike or Eric or Tomas or Chris or Bob Banner— anyone other than me? Had I truly alienated her so far that she would deny me in the face of her own wellbeing?

Or did she not like granola? Perhaps I had chosen the wrong food. Humans were picky about such things, or so I gathered by listening to their thoughts. Disgust was a common theme from the ones standing in the lunch line, eyeing what was soon to be their meal. Would she have preferred the candy?

And what now? Bella sat there ravenously hungry while I was halfway through a protein bar I could barely choke down. What could I do?

So I ate the damn thing, knowing with every bite that it was fruitless, that I would have to make myself vomit for this idiotic attempt to care for the stubborn, helpless human girl who did not want anything to do with my pandering. I chewed bitterly, every taste reminding me that, despite my efforts, Bella was still a baffling mystery.

Bella, too kind to everyone, yet barely civil with me. Bella, who would rather be hungry than see Eric hungry; who would rather be hungry than accept help from Edward Cullen.

When the bell rang, I stormed off to the woods and pushed the disgusting slop back through my throat, cursing the hold she had on me.

I laughed writing this one! I hope you enjoyed Frustrated Granola-Munching Edward. :) Thanks to you wonderful reviewers!