I stood speechless. Her voice hypnotized me to silence. Stirred me with its lilting tone. And through the murky haze I saw her head cock.

I perked. "Yeah, what's, uh, what's up?"

She inhaled, slight, with a faraway look in her eyes. And while she used her hands to guide her near the sink, inches from me, she said, "So, I think you should skip gym."

I snorted. Good call, Alice. "You read my mind."

Total knee-jerk response. It wasn't meant to be a joke. But Alice's peal of laughter rang as a shock into the tiny confines of the bathroom. And it wasn't like one of those fake "hahas" either which really threw me for a loop.

"Oh, you're just perfect," she sing-songed, clapping her hands and lacing her fingers. I startled. "I can see why Edward is so— Anyway, listen, we don't have a lot of time. A minute and forty-six seconds, actually. I encourage you to set a timer."

I stumbled over a laugh. She didn't smile. As I fumbled with my phone to pull up a timer, Alice sighed and thrummed her fingers on the sink and said, "Make it thirty-two."

I hit 'Start'.

And she continued. "Don't ask me how I know. But. I've got a feeling we're gonna be great friends." Pause. "I can see you're weirded out, that's fine, totally understandable. And I know this is weird. But just, as a friend—future friend—you should really skip gym and just head out for the day."

Silence. Still no laughter. "Is this a joke?" Alice bit her lip, canine poking out of the corner, and clasped her hands—a pleasepleaseplease. "I mean, honestly, as tempting as it is, I probably won't. I sort've had a rough semester. So."

And she looked down. Inhaled. "And you're applying to Dartmouth, right?" Maybe it was meant to be friendly, but when her thorn-toothed smile tore across her lips, my heart chugged into my throat and froze in place. The harsh fluorescent lights carved shadows in her smile.

"Uh—yeah. Thinking about it. Kinda. How'd you know?"

"People talk."

"I never said anything."

"Right."

I glanced down. Forty-seven seconds. "Um. Okay. So why am I heading out early?"

"If you need an excuse, just say you're sick or—"

"No, I mean, why would I need to head out early? Like what's going to happen to me?"

Alice had this odd habit of looking into the distance every time I said something, every time she responded. Like the air held answers. It made conversing with her stilted, silence-heavy, and, honestly? Odd.

Before the before the silence grew wide, her eyes zipped back to mine and she smiled without teeth. "It's — complicated. There are...a lot of...moving parts. In gym."

"Okay...so what, there's, like, a surprise mile run in gym today?" Quick glance: seventeen seconds.

And then it all spilled out of her like an overflowing sack of beans: "Look. This is crazy and I have no way of knowing this but there's something—and for some reason you're just hard to see, but—there are things I know. And you should really take my advice. Okay?"

"When should I leave?"

Alice rolled her eyes. "Is skipping most of class any worse than skipping all of class?"

The door flew open as my alarm went off. I flinched and fumbled with it and tried to avoid the gaze of the gorgeous, redwood-tall blond woman looming in the door frame. Staring. At us.

"Alice." Her windchime voice made my cheeks hot. I looked up to the charcoal eyes of Alice's sister — what was her name? Rosalyn? No. Rosalie? "Edward and I want to know if you're coming comp-sci?" When her eyes pierced mine, not only did I forget the name I thought she had, but I forgot my own name, who the hell Edward was, and the names of every noun in the known universe. She melted me into an intimidated puddle of nervous butterflies and primal fear. I looked away and rubbed the back of my neck.

"Of course." When she turned to me, away from Rose's glare, she inhaled and did that middle-distance stare thing. A sly smile pulled at her lips and she purred, "I'd just hate to do anything that upsets you or Edward."

"Then let's get going." Her snarled words followed on the heels of Alice's. As she reached for Alice's hand, Alice twirled out of the way and sauntered past her sister, singing, "Nice to meet you, Bells," as they brushed shoulders.

Rosalie's glare lingered on mine. This time, I could steel myself against her glare. Tough as it was. As sculpted and flawless as she looked, she looked — I don't know, maybe it was the harsh lighting — evil. Evil like Edward had looked that first day in Biology.

"You know, it's funny," said Rosalie, humorless, "how well she can interact. Considering."

"C-con—considering what?"

The most human thing about this woman? The way her lips twitched at my question, like she was choosing from a million different answers. "Her schizoaffective disorder. You didn't know?"

Though I couldn't hear the click of her heels over the sound of the blood roaring through my ears, the talons were the last thing my eyes caught before the door slammed behind her.

I didn't breathe until I made it to the locker room. My voice and thoughts didn't catch up with me until after several minutes into my bicep curls.

What the hell had just happened? Was Rosalie right about Alice's mental health condition?

But if she was, how did Alice predict with absolute accuracy….

And what did it mean for me?

Who knew. Regardless, I followed Alice's advice.

I mean, sorta. I spent half the period trying to collect myself, trying to brush off Alice's weirdly accurate timing to what Rosalie had told me. But I couldn't. Her—I don't know, advice? Prediction?—haunted me until I had no choice but to fake some vague illness. I grabbed my things, threw on my street clothes, and hustled out.

My breath came in puffs of ice. Frosty ground crunched beneath me. A fine layer of snowy fluff dusted the parking lot like powdered sugar, undisturbed, save for the kids who had free periods and the delinquents, i.e., myself.

And, as I stumbled down the steps and scanned the parking lot, I spotted the Cullens. Two of them, anyway. Edward and Alice, who, by Rosalie's account, should have had comp-sci this period, right?

Instead, they stood planted at the far end of the parking lot, pointing fingers and waving hands like they were arguing. Edward looked more angry; Alice, more desperate.

I slid and stumbled to The Thing, catching myself on the side mirror. Bracing wind combed through my hair. Both of them turned at once. I darted my eyes away.

And as I tossed my backpack into the passenger side, a screech roared, growing louder. Towards me. A skidding van, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spun across ice. Towards me. Towards my truck. Towards me.

Synapses jolted and I dove, but a patch of ice found my foot and —

Just before the metallic crunch of the van could squish me dead, something jerked me backwards by the hoodie, hard. While my legs flailed out from underneath me and I fell into the cold arms of ice-white skin wearing a wool peacoat, the van spun backward in the opposite direction. My hands found my throat to loosen the pressure.

I looked up.

Golden-eyed Edward, glaring down at me.

"Shit shit shit." High-pitched lilting. Alice. Standing near the headlights at the passenger side of the car, hand covering her mouth.

"You've become cocky; that's what happened," Edward fumed at her, as if she had asked a question. I skittered to my feet and scrambled out of his cold arms.

"I — you —" Which statement did I go for first? 'You two were over at the other side of the parking lot; how the hell did you get here'? Or maybe, 'That van was not coming at my truck at an angle that would make it bounce off that way.' Or how about, 'Was this what Alice was telling me about cutting out early'?

But no. It couldn't have been that one. For Alice kept glancing at her watch and pleading with Edward, "No, it's not right, it's not right, I didn't mean for—"

My hands grazed the cool metal of The Thing's hood. As I spoke, voice garbled, I watched faces poking into view in the windows of classrooms. Surveying the severity from the warm, cozy body of the school. "How did you stop the van? It was headed right for me."

They ignored me. They inexplicably saved my life. Now they were ignoring my existence?

"No," snapped Edward at his sister, "you had your chance. Rose and I specifically— Never asked you to decide what's best for— No. This conversation is over."

"What?" I croaked as they scooted away from me, not breaking eye contact with each other.

Oh lord. They were crazy. I was crazy.

"Oh, my god!" I turned, they didn't. The driver of the van had thrown his doors open and had his hands raking through his curly head, mouth agape. He hustled over to me. "Oh, god, Jesus, I'm so, so sorry. Are you okay?"

When I glanced back at the truck bed, it looked like the van had scraped it. Truthfully, the van looked more dinged up than The Thing did. There were two dents: one at the back of the van's passenger side, where the body had hit my back right bumper. And the front, near the window, where — No.There shouldn't be a second dent.

I glanced at Edward and Alice, who were having their own hushed conversation. "Yeah," I said. "I'm fine."

"What happened? I know I hit you, but I spun, and I, I don't —"

"Dunno. Guess you hit the bumper at an angle," I told him, adrenaline flooding my chest. Edward and Alice glanced at me; I could feel their eyes at the back of my neck. Whatever happened between us, they needed it covered-up. So why not do the job? "You spun out."

"But I don't — but — I thought I was headed right towards you," said the driver, voice broken and panicked, and his fingers rubbed at his forehead creases. "And then your boyfriend —"

"No," I told him, shaking my head. "You were seeing it at a different angle. I wasn't in the way. None of us were. Luckily." I flashed him a weak smile.

"Oh god, I'm so —"

"It's okay, seriously —"

"And if you need the police or insurance to —"

"No," I practically shouted, "no. No. Let's not get them involved." I shuddered at Charlie being called to the scene of an accident. My accident. "Besides, my truck wasn't damaged. Water on the bridge. Okay?"

"Yeah," the driver breathed. "Um — okay. Yeah. Should, should I at least get your information? Just in case or whatever?"

I glanced behind me. Alice and Edward were gone. Already. And I hadn't noticed. And the driver hadn't noticed. And when I looked over his shoulder, craned my neck to see around the van, the Cullen's Volvo still sat in the same spot, blanketed by a fine powder. "Nope. No. It's fine. Really."

"My mom's gonna kill me for the dents, oh man, I'm so sorr—"

"Hot water and a toilet plunger," I told him, hopping into my truck. The engine grumbled out of its slumber and yawned through the exhaust. "Can you back out?"

By the time I veered out of the parking lot, the Volvo was still parked. Alice and Edward were nowhere to be found. They hadn't left anything behind but a set of tracks disintegrating in slush. And though it had crossed my mind before, it seemed a prominent, screaming fact now: the Cullens were more than weird. They were something else. But what?