8. Dance Fever

Yesterday, the stronghold I'd erected in my brain was badly shaken. The ramparts teetered, creaked, and almost crumpled, but I was able to patch them up in time, just barely, and somehow they survived. I imagine an old fortress, its battered bastions riddled with scars, rivulets of dust frothing along its ravaged surfaces, but with its walls still standing, its defenses as yet unbroken.

On Monday morning, as sure as the sun is hidden by the clouds and a frown is engraved in my features, I stoically drive to school and the next few hours of torment I know I will have to endure. Aside from Alice, who often tries to comfort me, my siblings have accepted my awful mood has become permanent. Jasper, who can sense such mood all too well, often tries to steer clear of me, bothered by the darkness of my feelings. Even undead things are repulsed by my gloom.

Resuming my daily effort to ignore the boy is somehow even more painful than it was last Friday, but I find the strength to go through with it. The gears of reality start to slip in the first period, and soon it feels like every minute stretches just a little longer than the previous one, until the whole idea of time seems preposterous. Every second becomes an inch I must tread upon during a long, slow walk across a fiery pit from hell. Only the certainty that sooner or later this pain will start to level off, and maybe even ebb, if I only give it enough time, allows me to silently endure the constant agony being close to him inspires.

After what feels like aeons, I finally find myself in the car again, and Alice chatters at me in a vain effort to distract me. If this is love, or the beginning of love, why do humans, and my relatives, need it so much? It doesn't seem worth the pain it comes with. Or maybe it's simply my fault for falling for a member of another species; that's bound to create difficulties most couples never have to worry about. This is ridiculous, but I remind myself I only have to last a little longer; things will get easier. They simply have to.

And yet, for the next few weeks, none of those optimistic visions ever come to pass. As impossible as I had deemed it to be, the pain just keeps steadily increasing, day by day or even minute by minute. My mind is constantly filled with a frustrated desire to talk to him again, and with a grim, bleak determination to stick to my plan, for his benefit as well as my own. It's the right thing to do.

But it's not easy. Not even a little bit.

Every day I pretend he doesn't exist, and yet obsessively look at him through his classmates. This unknown and unrequited contact is all that allows me to maintain any semblance of sanity. But my frustration and my pain haven't gone unnoticed; Esme and Carlisle are worried sick, and I hate being the cause of their sorrow. They wonder whether they're losing their daughter. I never even play games with the others any longer. Binding my thirst for the boy's blood in iron chains and denying my constant craving for his companionship is all that drives me and fills my time.

And yet, despite all the pain the whole situation causes me, a small amount of solace does find its way into my life. As I keep observing him, through the eyes and minds of other human children, at least I get to know him a little better. Of course, even those small revelations inspire more pain, but they bring with them a soothing touch as well, like a balm applied to a burn.

For instance, one day I hear Jeff make fun of a smaller kid, a substitute on the soccer team that rarely sees the field. Brandon, for whom Jeff has much more respect, reminds his team's captain that the best players have to make an effort to help the others improve as well, and he promises the kid, someone named Ben, that he will stay late after practice to show him a few drills and work on his technique.

I also notice that even though his marks are higher than most kids at the school, with the exception of the gifted Hales and Cullen kids of course, he never lets that go to his head. Whenever academic achievement is discussed, he remains modest and unassuming, so different from Jessica, for example, who derives obvious pleasure from her own successes and rarely fails to remind her peers of the excellence of her grades.

As I surreptitiously spy on him, I also hope I will learn more about his tastes in music and why he chose to learn to play a very challenging piece like 'Claire de Lune'. Unfortunately, his beastly friends couldn't tell the difference between a Justin Bieber song and a Mozart symphony, so the subject of classical music is never even mentioned. I do learn that he likes some indie bands, often emo bands. That seems fitting; he appears to be very sensitive and of course I know he loves music and reading. I think it's his sensitivity and his capacity for empathy that make him more understanding of other people's sufferings than most of the other kids, often relentless when given the chance to put down the people around them.

I also do realize that he does have a bit of a temper; when Mike tries to mock one of his favorite bands, Brandon won't have any of it. He responds by dissing the dimwitted pop ensembles Mike likes so much in vitriolic terms. I can see the others are surprised by the vehemence of his reaction, but also grudgingly impressed, as I am. It's nice to know that he can be rather forceful when defending his convictions.

And so the days roll by, and so do many lonely nights. After school, I often go for long runs into the wild and leave my family to their own devices. The agony I'm going through keeps getting worse with every passing minute. I don't know how long I will be able to resist… I'm starting to consider leaving again, but I'm not even sure it would help. Sometimes, events we do not expect nor anticipate make our choices for us, and perhaps that is what happens on a rather remarkable Wednesday.

The day starts as most others do: with a ratcheting of the agony tearing my insides apart on a regular basis. Unknown to me, things will only get worse today.

The morning is painful enough, but the buzz of excitement coursing through the school does manage to distract me, albeit for brief instants, from my endless worries. A new dance, girls' choice, was recently announced. All the simpletons that surround us have immediately become obsessed with it and the chance it presents them to spend some quality time with their crush of the moment.

I spitefully mention the content of some of their thoughts to my siblings, also unimpressed. It seems like even Brandon will become involved, somehow, when I hear Eric describe to their little clique how eagerly he's waiting for the ball.

"It's going to be awesome, guys. The theme is 'raves'. We'll have club music, non-alcoholic cocktails, strobes, the works. And, by the way, it's first choice, so ladies," He eyes the girls at their table suggestively, his dark eyes narrowing, "make sure you invite a partner of your preference soon, before all the great guys are taken."

His attempts at charm and sophistication are so pathetic I would probably burst out laughing if another metaphorical blade hadn't started stirring my guts with renewed gusto; one simple thought plunged it into my flesh as soon as I dared to voice it in my head. Does this mean Brandon might end up going there with another girl? I wish, for a second, that I could invite him myself, but no, that's impossible. I shake my head, eliciting a grunt from Emmett and worried stares from the others, but Alice holds my hand, aware of my discomfort, and looks into my eyes. She doesn't say anything; I haven't been very talkative in recent weeks and she's well aware of that. I look at Brandon, apparently as uninterested in the dance as we are despite his friends' enthusiasm, and as usual I wish I could ask him what he's thinking.

When I scan the minds of the other girls in the school, searching for his name in their thoughts, I soon realize that he's become rather popular. While I mostly focused on understanding his personality, I couldn't help noticing that in recent weeks his upper body has been filling up; whereas he used to be skinny and a little hunched, he's now markedly more muscular and his posture has improved. I wonder how he managed it. Has he been working out? Unfortunately, I'm not the only one who noticed that. Jessica, her mind as proprietary as usual when thinking of Brandon, seems smugly satisfied she befriended him before those changes. Unbeknownst to her, though, she has more rivals that she imagines. I suffocate a snarl when I realize that at times she thinks of me as one of them. I can control my anger, but its intensity makes me wonder whether she's not wrong.

I head to class under ominous, although entirely imaginary, dark clouds. I perch on the edge of my seat, as always, and pretend to concentrate on the cracks that mar the paintjob on my left. I have to use somebody else's eyes to look at Brandon's approach. My mind is occupied; the thoughts emanating from Jessica's annoying brain are clear enough.

She sits on our desk, close to Brandon as she often does. She's been feeling smug since he and I started our cold war, but today her confidence borders on certainty. Despite pretending not to even notice, I can't think about anything else, and some emotion different from my usual suffering is now brewing; I can't fathom what it is just yet.

"Brandon, you are always so quiet. It's hard to tell what you're thinking…"

I hear Jessica squeak, just as a red wave of anger sweeps across my mind.

"Nothing particularly interesting, Jessica, trust me." Brandon replies, maybe distractedly. It's hard to tell, I'm finding hard to focus myself. I picture myself standing up, grabbing Jessica by her curly, frizzy hair, and slamming her skull against the wall a few hundred times, until all the bones have turned to dust. Part of my mind reels when confronted by the pleasure this imaginary act seems to entail. This is wrong, but why does imagining it feel so good?

"I will be the judge of that, once I finally get you to be more outspoken. I think the dance would be a perfect time….."

Jessica recovers from her initial puzzlement. Maybe I could gouge her eyes out instead, and then rip her still beating heart out of her chest and crush it in my hands until there is nothing but blood-soaked pulp left. If only I could….

"I'm sorry. A perfect time…."

Brandon's still so unaware of what's going on that if I wasn't about to go berserk I could probably find it hilarious. Without even noticing it, I lean closer to them, desperately interested in his answer. Wide cracks are starting to appear along the walls of my metaphorical fortress.

"To get to know each other better, silly. I would like to take you to the dance, Brandon." Jessica's annoying voice doesn't let up. In her mind, she's still confident. I'm caught in a maelstrom of rage and despair, and, in its thrashing, it razes to the ground my ramparts and I find myself naked, undefended, standing on the edge of an abyss. I look into its shadows-filled depths and I realize I don't know what will become of me.

"Oh Jessica…" He stammers back, finally fully aware of her expectations. Strange winds howl in my ears. Banshees roam the dark depths of the chasm opening up in front of me. I don't know what's happening to me and I'm more scared than I've ever been.

"I'm so happy you asked me. I really didn't expect it. To be honest with you, in Phoenix nobody ever asked me out. Unfortunately, though, I can't go. I'm sorry. I already have plans to go to Seattle. I have some errands to run. I'm an awful dancer anyways, trust me, you're better off without me."

And just as I'm about to fall into the darkness, lost beyond hope of redemption, his words hold me here, on the edge, dizzy but still on solid ground. No, better than that. For a moment, I feel like I'm soaring above the clouds on the wings of a strange, jittery high. The emptiness below me is not the abyss I imagined trying to escape when I understood my feelings for Brandon, the one that would fill me with love. The wasteland below me now is a barren, withered place; in its desolate plains, I only perceive a lifetime of suffering with no end or respite in sight.

"Can't you go another day? None of us is good at dancing. You won't be the only one."

She won't give up, but she still doesn't understand him, or how annoyed he truly seems to be at her proposal. I hold in check the smile trying to rise, unbidden, to my lips, and for a few instants I just wallow in the happiness his reply is bringing me.

"No, I'm sorry Jessica. I really can't."

I sense a glimmer of hope blooming in my chest, but if that is easy to understand, something else doesn't make sense. What are the emotions shaking me to my core? What is this tangle of fury, pain and despair ravaging my innards, scattering my thoughts, demolishing my defenses?

"Did someone already ask you?" Jessica demands in a slightly peeved tone that makes me wish, once again, that I could watch life desert her as my hands, barely aware of the minimum effort required, wring her neck and snap it off. I read her mind to enjoy more of her pain, and immediately sense the initial disappointment is turning to rage directed at me. She has noticed my interest and the hatred in her mind is unmistakeable. She also thinks I'm the reason he turned her down and she curses me, in her irate thoughts, in no uncertain terms. But I reel when I realize she's jealous, and that her feelings mirror mines. And so the mystery is solved: I am jealous too, of this puny human and of how carelessly she could ask the boy out to a dance, like I would do if I could do so without risking his life and my family's safety.

I would give centuries of life for to talk to him again, to invite him to proms and dances, to be like him. But that will never be an option. I'm not a human, I sadly remind myself; how could I bridge the gap that separates us?

"Jessica, come on. I just told you I'm going to Seattle. Nobody asked me and if somebody did it wouldn't matter because I will be out of town. Between me and you, though, I think Mike was hoping you'd choose him. I'm sure he's still available, but if you don't hurry some other girl will snatch him up."

"Oh, alright then. I'll think about it." Jessica mumbles, clearly dejected. She slinks back to her desk, staring at her feet the whole time. Unfortunately I can't really enjoy her defeat as much as I would like to, because even though he turned her down, I don't need Alice's gift to see the future. It's all laid out in front of me, plain to see.

Sooner or later, in college if not here in Forks, the shy boy of my dreams will meet a girl he will say yes to. Jessica is still walking her lonely walk as I imagine Brandon dating this ghostly damsel, holding her hand, strolling through an unnamed town, kissing her, making love to her, vowing to spend his life with her at the altar. Each image fills me with pain beyond the agony I've already endured, and the abyss still waits for my final fall. My once solid fortress is now a pile of smoldering rubble and everything I was fighting for is lost, turned to dust swirling in the wind.

So my will power is in tatters, and the hunger that fills my mind, not for his blood but just for his presence and a chance to scrutinize his liquid eyes, cannot be contained anymore. I turn to look at him, unable to control myself, and I bask in the deliciously soothing feeling that pervades me when I can stare directly at his features again.

At the same time, he turns toward me again, as he often does when he thinks I'm not looking; his surprise his clear when he realizes I'm unabashedly gazing at him. Only a few shreds of will allow me not to ask him the same question Jessica foisted on him, that and the knowledge that I would be exposing him to something far more dangerous than a girl's annoyance if he were to say yes to me. Torn between despair and the remnants of my strange high, I focus on maintaining a neutral expression to hide the turmoil of my scattered thoughts.

He looks at me quizzically, probably surprised by my sudden change of attitude. But what can I do? Thoughts of leaving alternate with desperate visions of impossible futures, despite how desirable they might seem. Once again I frown as I try, in vain, to read his thoughts.

And yet, although it could be just wishful thinking, I feel like the silence between us is now poignant, filled with some kind of unspoken, barely acknowledged connection between us. I must be truly going insane. I feel tempted to say something, unsure of what words to use or whether there would be any real purpose to them, but Mrs. Morrison spoils the moment by asking me a question. I automatically pick the right answer out of her mind, but politeness makes me glance at her. Brandon has turned away by the time I've satisfied our teacher, and throughout the rest of the class I just look at him, my mind still sifting through a million plans, each one crazier than the previous one. I'm at another crossroads; the old way is forfeit and I will have to find a new path.

When class ends, I remain in my seat, almost petrified, afraid that any move I make will be the wrong one. Brandon can't resist having another look at me, and once again seems startled when he sees I'm shamelessly observing him.

"Brandon?" I hear myself say. His name tumbled out of my lips before I could hold it in check. It's like parts of me are acting of their own accord and I'm just as stunned as he seems to be. His surprise soon turns to annoyance.

"You can still talk then? I thought you had forgotten how to, unless called upon to do so by a teacher. Are we on speaking terms again, all of a sudden?"

I laugh a little, but it's a wry, hollow sound, a nervous reaction more than anything else. But now I have to reply something, and I'm unsure of what to say. Still, if I understand him correctly, there is only one answer I can utter with a certain degree of honesty.

"I shouldn't be talking to you, no. So, maybe not."

"The sphynx was a lot less cryptic than you, you know. Anyways, if we are not talking, what do you want?" Yes, he's definitely angry with me. I can't blame him; he doesn't know how I really feel about him, or how hard I've been fighting to keep him alive these last few days. I wish I could be honest with him, tell him everything, but I have to remind myself that's not an option.

"I'm being very rude, I know. I just wanted to apologize, I suppose. It's for the best." Well, that's as honest as I can be, for the time being; his expression tells me it probably won't be enough.

"Alright, whatever, not that I understand a word you say. If you regret saving me just say so. I guess if you had let that truck squash me like a bug you wouldn't have to share your desk with me."

His words hit me like a slap in the face. Yes, he doesn't know how much I care for him, and all the efforts I had to make to keep him safe, but how could he believe I regret saving him? Protecting him from that van is the one thing I will always be proud of, the one act that makes me, for once, grateful of the powers that come with the curse of being a vampire. My own anger is unmistakable when I reply.

"You think I regret saving you?"

"I'd say you made it pretty obvious." He spits out as he turns away from me and refocuses on putting his stuff away and head to the next class.

"You don't know what you're talking about." I hiss through clenched teeth.

We glower at each other, both of us clearly mad now, but I manage to hold my silence. He has a bit of a temper and I can tell this isn't the right time to talk to him. Besides, I have much to think about.

He turned Jessica down; that can't mean much, can it? And yet, a faint hope seems to stir in my guts now, a hope I dare not put into words. I know he has other suitors, however, and before I get carried away I need to make sure he wasn't just hoping one of them would ask him out. I will have to be patient. But if he does turn them down, how does that change my plight? I don't really know, but I know I can't wait to see what happens. And somehow, now that I don't have to pretend to dislike him, I feel at least relieved. My old course of action could have never lasted, I can see that now. I'm glad this will at least push things toward a resolution of some kind.

I meet up with Alice for my next class, but I'm obviously distracted and she immediately notices something is different about me.

Before the teacher arrives, she manages to hit me with a few questions. I swat them away with unintelligible grunts, my mind occupied. I know one of the girls in Brandon's next class is gathering up her courage to ask him to the dance. The minutes inch by even slower than usual, making me wonder how I will be able to deal with an eternity of this. I can only hope I won't have to, one way or another.

Alice's casual comments that she will befriend the boy soon don't allay my fears at all. Eventually, when the teacher is busy preparing a projector, I admit to her that I won't be able to stay away from him any longer, but that I'm also very confused as to how he really feels about me.

When the bell finally rings, I remain in my seat, looking at Brandon through Angela's eyes. He asks her to lend him her notes and she agrees, but then she stutters a few comments about the weather. I know what's really on her mind, and, sure enough, the moment of truth arrives.

"You know, I haven't asked any boy to take me to the dance yet…. I was wondering, if, maybe, you'd… like to go with me…" She finally manages to stammer the words she had been agonizing over the whole day.

Once again the boy looks so surprised I chuckle a little, eliciting a gasp from Alice, still sitting by my side and looking hopefully at me. He also looks uncertain; I have a feeling that this kind of invitation is more welcome to him than the previous one. For a second my heart, dead or not, feels like it suddenly stopped just now rather than decades in the past.

"Angela, I will be out of town that Saturday. I'm going to Seattle. I'm really happy you asked me, but listen, I want to be honest with you, there is another reason I can't accept your invitation."

Angela's mind is suddenly wrapped in misery, just as I feel like my heart starts beating again and I even laugh out loud, to Alice's delighted surprise. In truth, I like Angela a lot more than Jessica, and so I can't bring myself to take pleasure in her defeat, but I can't deny I almost feel giddy with joy now. My mood swings are as out of control as they've always been since I met the boy. But he's not done talking.

"It's not about you, Angela, I really mean it. The truth is, I know Eric was really hoping you'd ask him. You know he's my friend right? And he also plays on the soccer team. He would feel really bad if you went out with me."

I pause, uncertain. Could that be true? Has he really turned her down only because of her friend's crush? Could he be that selfless? Are there any other reasons for his refusal? My momentary glee has quickly turned to frustration again.

"He would? But we often work together on the school paper and he has never… And he flirts with many girls..." Despite her reaction, this Ben's character also meets her approval; her sadness is already tempered by the new hope growing in her mind.

"Angela, he's a guy. He's trying to look cool but he's really shy with girls he truly likes. Ask him out. I'm sure you two will have a great time."

He's clearly not happy about turning her down, but he's done it so kindly. He cares about her, but not enough to accept her invitation. For the first time in weeks, I find a way to smile.

"Okay, Brandon. Thank you. You're a good friend."

"I'd like to be."

Two down, but there is one more to go. I know Jeff plans to ambush him later on; his sister likes Brandon too. I finally stand up and tell Alice I'm ready to go.

She smiles at me, her eyes twinkling.

"Lynn, I can see that we are not going home. We are going to the soccer game scheduled for this afternoon. And you seem different today, almost hopeful again, all of a sudden. What gives, sis? What's going on?"

Hopeful? Me? Could that be true? I tell her about Jessica and Angela's attempts to take Brandon to the dance, and confess what it did to my resolve. I need to know his answer to Jeff's question, but she doesn't have to stay here with me. I'm wasting time; she' won't be denied.

"You know, sis," she trills as we head to meet our siblings, "I think the boy likes you too. Remember his first day? He was only interested in you."

"Yes, but Alice, at that time he thought I was just another human. He doesn't know the truth, but now he does know that I'm a freak of some kind. He kept mum about it, thankfully, but still…."

"Lynn, don't overthink it." She hugs Jasper and whispers something in his ear before rejoining me.

"Lynn and I are staying for the soccer game. Rosalie can drive today."

"With pleasure," she says, unable to hide the fact that my absence won't bother her much. Jasper and Emmett, on the other hand, only think I must have lost my mind.

Alice and I watch them drive off and then head to the school's sorry excuse for a soccer pitch. Maybe predictably, we are not the only students heading to the game. Near the field's rickety bleachers, damp and uninviting, kids loiter in scattered huddles. Their minds tell me they're much more interested in delaying homework and pair up for the dance than in watching the game.

Alice and I find a spot, aware of the many surprised stares directed at us. I only have eyes for Brandon, warming up with his teammates. I know Jeff will approach him soon. I see him notice our presence, almost blushing. I snicker and Alice squeezes my hand.

They start stretching, and Jeff is ready to make his move. I hold Alice's hand so hard she whimpers a little.

"Arizona, dude, do you have any plans for the dance…?" At least he has the decency of being embarrassed about the whole thing. I still find his fantasies about me offensive, but I'm glad he's a good friend to Brandon.

"Why do you ask?" Brandon replies, as usual a little clueless and apparently more concerned with looking at Alice and me.

"I'm not good at this man, but I promised…."

"Huh?" He hasn't figured it out yet, but the tension has drained my hilarity. Even Alice looks somber. She doesn't need to read minds to hear what they are saying.

"My sister asked me to find out if you had already agreed to go with somebody. She was thinking of inviting you…"

I recognized Brandon's expression all too clearly; he's annoyed again, and his frown tells me all I needed to know about his answer.

"Sorry man, I'm going to Seattle that day." Alice and I exchange smiles.

"Oh, okay. Jessica said something about that." Jeff feels really stupid now; he won't be running errands for his sister again if he has his way.

"So why did you even ask?" Yes, he's really mad. I'm so relieved, and also amused.

"I thought you were just letting her off easy."

"No, Jeff, I really have other plans."

"I'm going with Angela." Brandon's peeved scowl is really hilarious. I laugh out loud now, and Alice follows suit. As usual, my joy is short-lived; we are still members of different species, and my very existence poses a serious threat to his life.

The game begins and we keep chatting in hushed tones while we watch Brandon and the other kids run around the pitch. We never played soccer, but who doesn't follow the world cup? We understand the rules, at least, if not the nuances. Brandon, Jeff and Eric appear to be, to my inexpert eyes, among the best players on their team. Meanwhile, I rant about the impossible situation I'm in; Alice listens to me patiently, and assures me that a first love is always like this. That only makes me more worried. So many new feelings fill every moment of my life now. Alice tells me it's worth the suffering, but I'm not sure I believe her.

Eventually, she tires of listening to my whinging.

"Lynn, get a grip. You are stuck in circular arguments." She makes her voice a little deeper, and sterner. "'He doesn't like me. I'm a freak. But if he likes him, being near me could kill him. Are you listening to yourself? Lighten up a little, sister. I still can't see the future clearly, but for glimpses of my friendship with him, one of many possible outcomes. But, as much as I'm into fashion, I also like to observe people and I think Brandon likes you. He turned down three invitations today. I think he is waiting for yours…"

"That's not possible, Alice. You know that."

"Do I? Why are we here then? Just for laughs?"

"No, I…"

"I'll tell you why we are here sister…" Despite her diminutive stance, she strikes a chiding pose, like a teacher running out of patience. "We are here because you hope I'm right. You hope he likes you… and don't give me any more of that 'I'm a freak' nonsense. The heart wants what it wants, and his heart wants you. I can feel it. And that's exactly what you want. Don't deny it."

"Don't say that. You know how dangerous that would be for him."

"You'll find a way sister. You always do." She looks smug now. I love her so much. She's the best sister I could ask for.

We talk a little more, ignoring the stares of the other spectators. Near the end of the game the score is a draw. The other team hits a long ball and I see Brandon chest it down and protect it from the charge of an opponent. He goes down in a heap and, as he falls, I can hear a light snap. He cracked a bone. I grip Alice's hand. She's heard it too.

He gets up slowly, obviously in pain. We expect him to signal he needs to be subbed, but he keeps on playing instead.

"He's a stubborn one, isn't he?" Alice beams at me. "You guys are made for each other. It was fate."

I snort.

"Please. Not fate. Listen to that rasping sound…"

"It's his rib. It must be painful." She agrees.

At the death, Brandon himself takes a free kick. I can't imagine how badly he'll pay for that, but he only grunts, stifling the rest of his intended scream. I barely realize that Jeff pounced on Brandon's pass and scored. They won the game. Jeff's teammates surround him to celebrate his goal and their last gasp vistory. Brandon, still in pain, is left alone in the middle of the pitch, kneeling on the grass. I wish I could go there to hug him, and resent the other players for ignoring his suffering. I shouldn't bother; they're all so young. Brandon wouldn't let his team down, though. That says a lot about the character of a man.

Alice and I finally walk away from the field, after exchanging a few more glances with the boy, apparently curious about my presence. Jasper is waiting for us in the parking lot and we drive away, my mind still a roiling vortex of fears and desires I cannot ignore any longer.