**Note to new readers: If you've recently read the 1927 story, you may have already seen this. After writing it as an outtake, I liked it so much that I went back and made it the new first half of the third chapter. Sorry for any confusion.**

This takes place during Edward's "slippery slope" period in the 1927 story- let's say between chapters 2 and 3. If you remember, Margaret is not a singer for Edward but she does smell unusually good. This was the part in the story where the blood-scent addiction was just starting to make things difficult, but he still didn't realize how close he was to losing it. Enjoy the Bella foreshadowing! (or anti-shadowing, as the case may be)

EPOV

I was slouching deeper and deeper in my chair, copying the boredom that my classmates were succumbing to in the second half of the Biology lecture. If I had been one of them, I probably would have been snoring. Really, hadn't we beaten mitosis to death by now?

Thankfully, I had the delectable Margaret Weiss right next to me, and I had long since left Biology behind, immersing myself in her scent and in the imaginary world in which it was permissible to lean over and sink my teeth into her-

"Mister Cullen!"

I looked up at the teacher, easily suppressing the growl that threatened to announce my displeasure at being interrupted. "Yes, Mrs. Wilson?" I asked sweetly.

The reprimand disappeared from her mind, to be replaced with an image of my face. There were dark circles under my eyes, and my eyes themselves were a little too close to black for such a public setting. I quickly moved my hand up to my stomach and rubbed it, confirming her unspoken fear that I wasn't feeling well.

Her mental voice quickly softened, as well as her spoken voice. "Oh, Edward, why didn't you say something? You look awful. Why don't you go down to see the Nurse?"

I nodded pathetically and rose from my seat, taking my books and the wooden hall pass being offered to me. I took one last deep breath of Margaret's scent, and headed for the door. But as I touched the doorknob, my instincts flared in protest, angry at being denied satisfaction yet again- and seventeen minutes early, to boot. I tried to advance my foot, but I knew that I was dangerously close to turning back toward my table and doing the unthinkable. Just calm down, calm down…

I stood still and closed my eyes, clenching and unclenching my fists as I reminded myself of all the reasons why I should leave the room. Carlisle's trust, Esme's love. The audience. My vow to maintain the diet and self-control exemplified by my creator. The humiliation of letting a seventeen-year-old human child ruin my perfect record, just because she smelled so good.

Once it was safe to walk again, I opened the door and stormed out, slamming it behind me at human speed. As soon as I was safely outside the classroom, I leaned back against the lockers, trying to decide what to do.

Nurse, nothing. I needed to get out of here. I could feel my control slipping around Margaret, and I truly didn't understand it. I had just hunted this weekend, for crying out loud! But here I was again, having to leave school in the middle of the day to hunt. It was the right thing to do. Black really wasn't a normal eye color, and I loved my parents. I didn't want to ruin our life here. I should leave the building, head up into the Forest, and drink myself into tranquility.

But I didn't want to leave. I wanted to go back in there, tell Mrs. Wilson that I felt much better, and get my seventeen minutes. Maybe if I waited a bit, my eyes would lighten up…

While I was debating my options, the classroom door opened beside me and Margaret came out.

"Um… you didn't get very far." Why did she have to pick me? Couldn't one of the boys have walked him to the nurse? This is awkward…

She closed the door behind herself, fanning her scent towards me. I inhaled appreciatively and smiled, despite the tantalizing burn in my throat.

"Are you sick, as well?" I asked politely.

"No. Mrs. Wilson thought you looked a little faint as you were walking out, and wanted me to walk you to the nurse. Um, you're not going to throw up, are you?"

I looked past her down the hallway, and used her viewpoint to look behind me. There wasn't a teacher or student in sight. Margaret was alone, in the hallway. With me.

"I'm fine," I said quickly. "I don't need help."

"Oh. All right. Um, feel better." Thank goodness. I don't think he likes me very much- at least not lately. And he's so creepy, anyway. She turned to go back to class.

Silly girl! If only she knew how much I liked her- though not in the way she wished I would. Margaret Weiss was just like every other girl in this school when it came to her fascination with me- she had given up by now, but despite my attempts to be unapproachable, and even my "creepiness" lately, I knew she would be wrapped around my little finger in a second, if I chose. It would be so ridiculously easy to get her alone…

But we were already alone, I realized. Though not for long- her hand was already reaching for the door, and then I wouldn't smell her again for three more days…

"Wait." The word came out of my mouth without my permission, and my hand grabbing her arm had certainly not been an action approved by the saner half of my brain. What was I doing?

Margaret shivered and drew away from my touch. Ugh! He's so cold- he's sicker than I thought. But wait, if he had a fever, shouldn't he be hot, instead?

I jerked my hand away, her scent temporarily forgotten. It was time for some damage control; Margaret might have a boring mind, but she was no idiot.

"I mean, my stomach's fine. I just feel cold all over, and I've got a bad headache. I get them like this sometimes." Now go back to class.

Margaret turned back toward me and I frowned as I saw her intention to check if I had a fever. Not good. But if I jerked away again, it might make her more suspicious. I forced myself to stand still while she laid her hand on my forehead, frowning in a motherly way at the coldness. My goodness! He's so cold- no wonder he's feeling faint. Why can't men ever admit when they're sick?

"I'm taking you to the nurse," she said firmly. "Come on."

"But-"

"Edward Cullen! I'm going with you, whether you like it or not. You're practically falling over as it is."

I had forgotten that I had been leaning my head against the wall when she came in. No, Margaret! Go back to class. This is a bad idea. No!

"If you like," I said smoothly. And why not? Smelling her for an extra minute was just too good to pass up, and it wasn't like I was going to do anything. She started down the hallway, and I pulled myself away from the wall obediently.

We walked in silence, her scent surrounding us like a cloud. I stared straight ahead as we walked, and I distracted myself by counting how many steps were left until the Nurse's office. Just 850 more steps, and she would be safe. No problem.

Her mind wandered, as well. She was thinking about the last time she had gone to the Nurse, a couple of weeks ago. She had been hurrying to get her books out of her locker so that she wouldn't be late to class, and her hand slipped against the latch-

As I saw the blood in her memory, the world turned upside down, and my feet tangled together in confusion as my body leapt away from her at the same time as it leapt toward her. Venom flooded my mouth and as she reached over to steady me, I shook my head frantically, clenching my teeth shut.

"For goodness' sakes, Edward! Let me help you, or you're going to pass out!" She reached for me again, and I backed fully away from her, slamming myself into the lockers behind me. She put her hands on her hips, taking another step toward me. "What's the matter with you?"

I just shook my head again, swallowing the venom as quickly as I could, holding my hand up in protest. As Margaret pictured me fainting, her heart began to beat faster in her worry, sending her scent toward me in urgent waves.

"I'm sorry," I finally choked out. "It's just… just…" It's just that I really want to kill you right now. Can't you understand that?!

"Just what?" she snapped. "Are you that afraid to let people help you?"

"I don't want you to help me," I said through my teeth. I could see my haunted expression through her eyes- why didn't she run? "Margaret, please understand," I begged, softening my voice a bit. "I know you're trying to help, but it's making it worse. Just go back to class, please."

Margaret's eyes finally widened in understanding, and she shivered. Finally, a reasonable response! If she would just get out of my sight, I could make my escape. But her thoughts weren't going the way I wanted them to. She had decided that my skittishness and refusal to show weakness were signs that I was, in fact, in love with her. Like she had hoped all along.

Oh, for the love of… I opened my mouth to order her away again, but she suddenly blushed in embarrassment, the blood rising to fill her cheeks in invitation, and her pulse picked up again as she took a tentative step towards me. I knew it! All those times I caught him looking at me…

I blinked, trying to clear my vision of the haze of her scent, and trying to clear my mind of the echoing thud of her heartbeat. I knew this was her last chance, that I should call for help- if I could get a teacher out here, she might still survive this. I might not break my vow, and my family's trust in me. But my throat was in cinders, the flames devouring the sound of my voice as I tried to save her life. I felt the lockers pull gently away from my back, and I was carried forward until my hands were on the sides of her face. I could feel the difference in temperature under the fingers that were touching her blush. The blood was so close…

"Edward," she whispered. Kiss me.

I didn't have to be told twice. My lips met hers, and she shivered at the unexpected cold as I felt her hands climb up my back. I kissed her again, on her chin and then under her chin, sliding my hands down to her shoulders. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, hoping I would kiss her throat next.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Her carotid artery was pounding out a rhythm that had been written just for me- I could tell. I bent down until my nose was just touching the skin over the artery, and one final thought raced through my mind as my sanity evaporated.

I'm sorry.

I opened my jaws and bit, my mouth filling with the most amazing, most spectacular deliciousness in the whole world. She finally began to struggle, and I gripped her shoulders so hard that her bones began to snap. I kept drinking, and the whole world faded away behind me as I-

"Mister CULLEN!"

A ruler slammed on my table, and my eyes jerked open to see Mrs. Wilson leaning over me with her hands on her hips. Honestly! Sleeping right in the front row!

I spun halfway around, to find Margaret sitting, alive and well, at my left side. She wasn't even looking at me- she was still flinching at the ruler which had just landed on the table we shared.

She was alive. I hadn't killed her!

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," I murmured. Mrs. Wilson huffed and slapped the ruler in her palm as she returned to the chalkboard.

When her back was turned, Margaret leaned toward me. "All you all right?" she whispered. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine! Just stay away from me!" I hissed, scooting my chair as far to the right as I could. Mrs. Wilson spun around again, watching as Margaret turned her face away toward the window, determined not to let me see her tears. After giving me a disapproving glare, she turned back to her lesson again.

That's the last straw! I'm going to the principal on my lunch break, and I don't care what he says. Those two need a break from each other. We can always move an extra desk in here for seventh period.

That was it, then. Margaret was really being taken out the class, and it was because of me. I wasn't angry this time, surprisingly. I was relieved, so relieved, because I really needed to stop doing this. There was nothing wrong with enjoying the scents around me, but this was too much. I couldn't let my daydreams get mixed up with reality like this, or I really was going to make a mistake.

Still, the daydream had been quite innocent. Margaret was the one who came out of class looking for me. She was the one who had insisted on being alone in the hallway together. She was the one who had made the fatal error of assaulting me with her scent and the memory of bleeding. And she was the one who had stood there like a fool, practically begging me to kill her. I could just as easily have dreamt up a scenario in which I lured her away from the school, and killed her on purpose. But I hadn't. I had been blameless in this one. It was an accident.

And accidents were allowed.

But it was good that Margaret was being taken away from me- I knew that. There was no point in courting disaster, even if that disaster would finally give answer to the question I had secretly been brooding over:

What did human blood taste like?

I had had one glimpse before- when Carlisle had bitten Esme. I had been standing right beside him, and I had already been digging around in his mind to find out why on earth he had brought a bleeding, dying woman to our house, of all places. But when he leaned down to her throat, and I realized what he was about to do, I had jumped out of his mind instinctively, my telepathic gift tensing itself from the shock.

But for a fraction of a second, before I had fully steeled myself against it, I had experienced a faint echo of the taste that Carlisle's brain was processing. And throughout that next evening, as Esme lay screaming in pain, my father's mind had drifted back seven times to the memory of the taste- and then quickly discarded the thought, for his sake as well as my own. And even that first time had been so brief, and already so muted that I didn't get much. The moment itself had been so horrifying that I hadn't even thought about what I was denying myself. I had been intensely curious later on, but I knew that Carlisle would have disapproved of my asking him to kindly give me a mental replay of the taste of his beloved Esme's blood.

And so in my daydream, as in all the others, I had been obliged to make it up. And this case, since Margaret was the star of my imagination, I had done my very best- I had just imagined the taste of mountain lion blood, but mingled with that snatch I had gotten from Carlisle's mind six years ago. I didn't know how accurate my guess was. And I didn't want to know.

Really, I didn't.

Did I?