Chapter 4 - The Monster

Edward

In the wake of Rory's abrupt exit from the cafeteria, the bored students of Forks High return to what they do best - which evidently is chattering amongst themselves at a pitch louder than a troop of capuchin monkeys. Every word that crosses their flapping lips floats to my ears. And, completely uninvited, every stray thought which forms within their brains storms directly into my own stream of consciousness.

Rory fell on her ass right in front of the new guy! Ha! snickers a skinny boy two tables away. That was the funniest thing I've ever seen! I bet she got into her old man's liquor cabinet again...

That was intense. I don't think I've ever seen Rory look so pissed off before... thinks a girl with bangs teased straight up in the air, much like that of a rooster's red comb.

I don't get it. What do these girls even see in him? another boy complains to himself as he stares in my direction. He doesn't smile, and his skin is way too white. It's weird. He's an albino in a jean jacket...

I hunch over the table, roll my red apple between my hands, and suffer through the mental onslaught of ignorance in silence. Usually when I overhear thoughts that are particularly callous and irritating, I try to ignore the people around me and veer my attention elsewhere. Today I cannot. My curiosity has been piqued.

For I have discovered one of the children at this despicable hellhole appears to have blocked me from her thoughts.

But this is impossible.

I have been on this earth in some form or another for approximately eighty-three years, and never once have I come across someone whose mind was off limits. Who the person may be has never been a factor before. Devout religious leaders. Brilliant mathematicians. Rich philanthropists. Powerful politicians. Bloodthirsty vampires. None have been immune to my mind-reading skills. It has been said my ability is unmatched within the supernatural world. Not even the Volturi possess a member who can read the minds of multiple people at once.

So, it is highly unlikely I would meet my match at a high school in tiny Forks, Washington.

My focus switches from student to student, determined to find within the cacophony of noise the mind of the one who has so far evaded me. Next, I concentrate on the teachers - one of whom is dreaming of escaping to Port Angeles tonight for cocktail hour. Even the cafeteria workers are not exempt from the search. Before I know it, I have mapped out the mind of every soul who chose to set foot on the school campus today.

However, the only mind I'm interested in remains nowhere to be found.

I take a fleeting glimpse across the lunch room, the image I see instantly stored away inside my brain like a snapshot in a photo album. After averting my gaze back down to my own table, I analyze it. The girl who had been choking earlier still has her face buried in a book. I cannot discern what the title of the book may be. Its cover is hidden from view.

Just like the mind of the girl.

I exhale gruffly through my nose. Frustration rises by the second. How can a mere girl sit there and read a book and not produce a single thought? It's unheard of. It's as if her body is present but her mind is elsewhere. Is there something wrong with her? Or, is she doing nothing but staring at an empty, white page and that's why I can't hear anything?

Like magnets drawn to steel, my eyes dart back to the girl.

The book lays flat on the table, her upper body hovering over it protectively. Her eyes move over every inch of the page, too absorbed to pause for even a moment. I've read quite a bit myself over the decades, so there is a good chance I can identify what book she is reading if I can only get a peek at a page. It wouldn't take much. A sentence or two would suffice.

So, I wait.

It doesn't take long for her to flip the page to the next. My eyes squint hard to see if I can make out anything - as though what the book's title may be is the secret behind her silent mind. But my vantage point is poor. I can see nothing from this angle.

Since I cannot discover the name of the book she reads from, I rally my efforts elsewhere. Studying other traits about her may explain what's going on. I see that her style of dress is nothing special. The girl's sweater is baggy and unflattering, the design on the front in a basic geometric pattern. If Alice saw her, she'd likely try to stage an intervention - or start a clothing drive in the girl's honor. The girl's brown hair is worn loose and slightly wavy, the tips hanging long down her back - so unlike most hairstyles in this day and age. She boasts no puffy bangs or exaggerated curls frozen in place with the assistance of a can of hairspray. Strangest of all is her lack of makeup. Her skin is pale, with cheeks tinged in light pink. Naturally dark lashes frame her eyes. She may well be the only teenage girl in Forks who doesn't have a pound of lipstick and powder on her face.

Her behavior is unusual, too. Out of all the tables she could have chosen today, she decided to sit alone at a tiny one in the corner of the cafeteria. The contents of her food tray remain largely ignored. Half of a hamburger is uneaten and most of her French fries have barely been touched. Her bowl of chocolate pudding sits undisturbed. She appears more eager to read than to eat her lunch - or chat with her friends, which is truly unheard of for a teenager.

The bell rings out of the blue, signaling that we have exactly ten minutes remaining before we are expected at our next class. I watch the quiet girl shut her book and pick it up from the table. My eyes are glued obsessively on it, almost willing her to turn the book around so I may examine the cover. And she does. For a tenth of a second, I see the front.

The book's dust jacket is missing, leaving a plain outer cover with no identifiable markings.

Of course it would be...

I slump into my chair, dismayed at my poor luck.

The girl stashes the book away in a bag under the table. Next, she quickly devours the remainder of her hamburger and spoons in several bites of chocolate pudding before returning the tray to the front of the cafeteria. Then she exits the room, taking all of her secrets with her.

I remain seated for a few minutes more, unwilling to move just yet. The discovery I have made today continues to haunt my thoughts even though the girl is gone from my sight. All that surveillance I did and there's nothing to show for it except more questions. I don't believe I've ever been more frustrated.

With a dismal sigh, I eventually rise from my seat and dump my tray of uneaten food into the trash. The hallway is crowded with people by the time I leave the cafeteria. Students gawp and stare at me as I stroll to my locker. I go about doing my normal routine, which is looking straight ahead and acting as though they are not there. After I put in the combination, my locker opens and I pull out my Trapper Keeper. I frown down at the front cover. The binder has a red Lamborghini plastered on the front. It makes me feel like a child having to carry around such a thing. Though I suppose that was her goal when Esme bought it for me yesterday. She insisted it was a must for any student nowadays and would help me "fit in". I see that she was at least partially correct since a majority of my new classmates have Trapper Keepers of their own. But I still loathe mine. If I wanted to look at a Lamborghini everyday, I would buy one that I could actually drive.

As I walk to my sixth period class, I unfold the sheet of paper the school secretary handed me this morning. She explained I would need to have each of my teachers sign it before I return it at the end of the day. I find Room 301, the Chemistry lab, sitting towards the middle of the building. A teenage couple stands obliviously in front of the door. The boy with infatuation shining in his eyes stares down at a girl with a tiny beauty mark above her red upper lip. Upon closer examination, I see that the "mole" is merely a dot she drew in with a black eyeliner pencil. She's clearly a Madonna wannabe who believes she deserves adoration from her fans, which is something the boy appears eager to do. However, I do not feel as generous. They are blocking my way into the classroom. I clear my throat to catch their attention. When they don't move, I send them a small, warning scowl as punishment for making me and half a dozen other students wait in the hallway. Quickly, the couple sidesteps out of the way.

I find the Chemistry teacher cleaning the chalk board as I walk into the room, her back turned towards the arriving students. I stop a few paces away from the door and check my paperwork again.

"Ms. Saffle?" I read.

At the sound of her name, she rotates in place. Large frame glasses with a cord wrapped around the ends hangs from her neck. It's her only form of jewelry. Her beady, hazel eyes squint in my direction. "Yes? What is it?"

I hold up the paper. "Hello. I was told you would need to sign this form."

She slings on her glasses and blinks a few times as her sight readjusts. Then her eyes grow wide, like an owl's. Her rattled thoughts can't decide if she should be thankful to have me in her class or worried that she finds a student so attractive. After a few seconds of stunned eye blinks, she swallows hard and shuffles up to me, taking the form from my hand. She glances briefly at it. "Oh. You're our new student, then. W-welcome to Chemistry," she says with a shaky smile. "Let me find a pen and I'll give this right back."

I nod in acknowledgement as she wanders off to sign the paper. With my Trapper Keeper tucked casually at my side, I take a look around the room. A few students are talking in small groups. A few others unabashedly stare at me. The rest do both simultaneously. I roll my eyes in search of something more interesting. And I find it.

It's the silent girl from the cafeteria.

She sits on the first row, at a desk by the window. Her chin rests on a tiny hand as she gazes outside. I draw my brows together in bewilderment. There isn't much to see out there through the glass. The weather today is gray and gloomy, not fit for much of anything. Yet here she is studying it as though it's the most spellbinding thing she has ever seen. Recent rains have made the ground nothing but a brown, muddy wasteland. Even the plant life appears to have been affected, the cloudy weather draining all the vibrant colors from their leaves.

Then I notice it isn't our immediate surroundings that has captured her attention. Her eyes are aimed at the distant horizon. To our west approaches a wall of ominous black. A storm. The benign clouds hovering over Forks are being dragged into the darkness, quickly devoured by the storm and disappearing from sight within seconds. It's riveting to watch...

"Here's your form," Ms. Saffle says, calling me back from my reverie. She stands at her desk, only a few feet away from the silent-minded girl.

I pass around students and move deeper into the classroom. Various odors assault my senses as I go to retrieve the paper. Chemicals. Old textbooks. Someone's unwashed gym socks hiding within a backpack. And, most importantly, people. Human people. It's a smorgasbord of different aromas. Spicy, woody, and incredibly delicious. But, the people stuck in this classroom with me today are safe. I hunted several days ago while I was passing through Yellowstone. I'll be set for at least another week before I need to feed again.

I'm only a few feet away from the teacher when another scent slams into me, harder than a freight train. Nothing, nothing has ever matched this aroma. Floral and fresh. More alluring than a bouquet of spring flowers. And sweet. Oh, so sweet. It burns my throat like a flamethrower. Even as a newborn I never felt so thirsty. Venom drips down my teeth and coats my tongue. Everything else on my mind is quickly forgotten. I forget who I am and what my coven stands for. At this moment, I am feral. Untamed. Hungry. I live for only one thing - to track down the owner of this once-in-a-lifetime scent, and then devour their blood until it's all mine.

After decades of slumber, the monster has awoken.

I stand statue still as my nose lifts slightly in the air. I inhale greedily, all the while imagining how the blood at the source of this intoxicating scent will soon soothe the ache in the back of my throat. I rule out the boy at the first desk as being the owner of the scent. The student at the second too. And the third.

Soon, my gaze focuses on a thin, white neck. So long. So fragile. So inviting. A blueish vein on its side pulses a life-giving beat. Each time the skin above the vein throbs, another molecule of that mouthwatering scent leaks into the air. Then I know for sure.

This is it. I found the source.

I lick my lips in anticipation.

"Edward," an authoritative voice calls out. There's a hint of impatience in the tone. "Come get your form, please."

The name sounds foreign to my ears. I don't acknowledge it. But someone else does. The owner of the neck I'm staring at quickly whips their head around. Big, brown eyes focus exclusively on me. They swallow me whole. Deep and mysterious - like dark pools that could have nearly anything hiding below their surface. For a split second, the sight sobers me. And then I remember.

Full eyes. Empty thoughts.

I shove the monster over slightly, allowing a small part of the saner side of me to return. Now that I'm thinking more clearly, I register the fact that eighteen people are watching me have a complete meltdown. Through their perspectives, I witness my grotesque transformation. Curled lip and shining eyes, like a snarling jungle beast. My face barely passes for human. I am horrified at myself. But one face within the room cuts me to the core more than any other. I realize that not only am I hunting an innocent girl, it just so happens to be the one that I spent half of my lunch break puzzling over. She stares at me with a slightly pinched forehead, but her eyes are large and open. I've never seen an expression quite like it. What could she possibly be thinking as she watches Death approach? Even as I plot to end her life, she continues to baffle me.

Just do it. Drink from her. She's only a human. Nothing special, the monster whispers.

Perhaps. But if I take her life, Carlisle and Esme would be disappointed in me. And I'll forever wonder what her secret in blocking me from her mind could have been.

Who cares?

I do.

With my decision made, I shut off my breathing. All my thoughts are directed at making my escape before the monster can retaliate. My Trapper Keeper falls out of my grip. It lands with a loud smack on the linoleum floor. I take a step backwards. And then another.

"Edward, what are you doing? Get your form," the teacher instructs, her face marked with concern.

But I'm already gone.

The bell clangs as I scramble down the empty hallway. I try to walk at a human pace in case I am being monitored, but my desperation has me tempted to sprint. Soon I burst through the exit doors at the back of the school building, the small glass windows almost shattering from the impact. I close my eyes briefly and suck in the clean, outside air. The girl's unique scent hovering in my nostrils weakens, yet the memory unfortunately does not. Immediately, I break into a jog, eager to put some distance between myself and the school. The instant I reach the wooded lot bordering the campus, I disappear within the tree line.

Then I'm running as fast as my legs can take me.

Running from the girl. Running from her blood. Running from the monster. But I can't escape it. It stalks me as I weave through the forest of towering trees. It whispers temptations into my ear, reminding me how satisfying human blood can be. How much better it quenches the thirst than a deer or mountain lion. And, it concludes, the girl's blood would be equivalent to the finest of wines. How can I possibly deny myself the pleasure?

I shake my head hard, banishing the thought. Can't think that way. Too dangerous. Must keep moving.

The monster howls in outrage.

I pick up on the trail of a herd of elk several minutes into the run. My body goes into hunting mode as soon as I detect their scent. Elk isn't especially appetizing, but it will have to do for now. The elk are gathered at a small watering hole when I attack. There's four of them. They never see me coming. I break each of their necks and relieve them of every drop of blood.

Afterwards, I busy myself in disposing of their carcasses. Part of being a vampire is cleaning up your messes. One elk carcass would never arouse attention but four most certainly would. I dig a hole deep enough to fit all four of them. There's quite a bit of dirt stuck underneath my fingernails by the time I'm finished. I drop each body inside of the trench and cover it over with earth. I bow my head for a moment, silently thanking the creatures for their sacrifice. They died so a human might live. They deserve to be honored in some way.

With the task complete, I look towards the sky to determine which way home might be. The black storm clouds are almost on top of me now, creeping closer and closer. The winds are picking up too, buffeting my hair in every direction. Thunder and lightning crack threateningly nearby. One particular flash brightens the entire sky like the sun at midday. It's oddly beautiful. I can't look away. My reaction reminds me of the way the girl stared out the window a little while ago. The approaching storm appeared to fascinate her, not frighten - like it would most people.

The second I allow myself to think of the girl again, the monster taunts me with an image.

In my mind's eye, I see the girl staring out the window. Her long, brown hair is draped on only one shoulder, exposing her neck to me perfectly. It's bent at an odd angle, almost as though she's inviting someone to drink from it as she gazes outside...

Ripping away from that treacherous line of thought, my feet take off again. Away from the approaching storm. Away from Forks. Away from temptation. I don't stop until I've reached the snow on Mount Olympus, one of the area's tallest peaks. My back falls against a pine tree and slides down its trunk. I hit the ground with a thud. I'm almost twenty miles away from Forks. High above it too. The raging storm slinks around the mountain, unable to reach where I am. I almost smirk in triumph. At least my clothes won't get wet today. It's my only solace. Everything else in my life has gone straight to hell. I was forced to run into the wilderness just to escape the siren's call of a teenage girl's blood. Certainly not one of my proudest moments. My forehead lands upon my knees as I mourn for my lost sanity.

Roughly an hour into my solitude, I hear familiar voices inside of my head. They are only a couple of miles away. It isn't long before my ears pick up on the sound of fast feet moving over snow. Then I see my huddled figure through a new set of eyes. Carlisle's. I look forlorn and beaten. How pathetic.

A maternal hand falls on my right shoulder. "Oh, Edward," Esme says softly. "Are you all right?"

I lift my face to look at her. She's lovely in a comforting sort of way. Dimpled cheeks and honey-brown hair. A mother figure through and through. I try my best at remaining calm as not to alarm her, however through her perspective I can still catch the wildness haunting my eyes.

"No. No I am not," I answer civilly enough. Esme and Carlisle exchange a look, but I keep on going. "I made a spectacle of myself at school. My very first day, mind you. I was this close to killing someone in front of a room full of children. Then, to top things off, I bolted out of class like a madman - thereby attracting everyone's attention." My eyebrows snap together into a scowl, furious at myself and my weakness. "So much for keeping a low profile..."

Carlisle plops down in front of me, his eyes reflecting back sympathy. "You did the right thing. Because of your strength, you kept yourself from harming an innocent. There's nothing for you to be ashamed of."

I shake my head stubbornly. "I drew attention to us, Carlisle. A lot of it. I looked like a rabid animal preparing to attack. Almost twenty people saw it. We haven't been here for a week, and already we're threatened with exposure. All because of me. We'll have to move again now."

"No we won't," Carlisle consoles. "I took care of the problem for you. I went down to the school and smoothed everything out. I gave the principal the story that you were switched to a new prescription for your anxiety and it gave you unexpected side effects. He believes the problem is being fixed at the pharmacy as we speak. I promise no one suspects it was anything else."

Although I appreciate his efforts, the excuse Carlisle concocted will inevitably be spread around the school and twisted from its original message. "Wonderful. Instead of being a suspected vampire, the students will merely believe I'm being fed mountains of prescription meds everyday to keep my psychotic tendencies under control." I heave out a sigh. "Well, I suppose that's better than the alternative."

"I took your car home, too."

I give Carlisle a weak head nod of gratitude. My hand drags down my face. Then a curious thought strikes out of nowhere. "How did you know I needed you?"

Esme smiles gently. "Alice called the house."

"Of course," I mutter. Even when Alice is far away on vacation, her visions never take a day off. "And what did she say?"

"Well, she was out exploring with the Denali coven when she saw a vision of you hunting a student on school grounds. She had to run thirty miles to a pay phone. By the time I called up to the school office to warn you, you were already gone."

I hang my head in shame. "I'm so sorry for putting you both through this mess."

"There's nothing to apologize for," she counters. "You fought through it and didn't hurt anyone. Everything will be fine from now on. You'll see."

"That's where you're wrong," I say flatly, face devoid of expression. "I can't say with certainty that it won't happen again. That girl's scent was the sweetest I've come across since Carlisle changed me in 1918. And no matter how much I abhor hurting anyone, there is still a part of me that wants nothing more than to run back to Forks and drink that poor girl dry. So, in conclusion, I would have to say that everything is not fine, Esme," I end with evident sarcasm.

She gives a piercing glance, thoughtful and scolding all at once. "Alice told me you might say that," she says mysteriously. Without another word, she digs into her purse and steps forward. She snatches up my hand and slaps something into it.

I stare at the object with wrinkled brow. It's a clear, resealable bag, the type of which a human might put a ham sandwich in before going on a picnic. And inside of the small bag is a white jumble of fabric.

I gaze back at Esme's face. "What's this?"

She squints one golden eye, as though she's struggling with what to say. "Umm... it's a bra."

I blink my surprise at her. It takes a while for me to recover from the confusion. "I see... And, pray tell, why did you feel the need to hand a bra to me today?"

"It's to help you. You don't want to harm the girl, do you? You needed something to help build a tolerance to her scent, so there you go!" She smiles proudly. "Alice gave me the idea."

The information stuns me. Then my pained face falls into my hands. "Please, Esme," I groan. "Please tell me this is just a delusion of mine and that you didn't break into that girl's house to steal one of her bras."

Her optimistic smile cracks slightly. "Sorry, but I didn't have much of a choice. She must have done her laundry recently. That was the only item of clothing in her laundry basket that was small enough to fit into the Ziploc bag. I would have taken one of her shirts but my Tupperware set is still in the moving van. Can you believe it won't arrive here until Thursday?"

I overlook her statement and shoot Carlisle a cold glare. "Did you know about this so-called plan?"

He shrugs his shoulders in a helpless manner. "We thought it was a good idea..."

"So, what do you two expect me to do then?" I snap. "Sniff a young girl's underthings like a sex-crazed maniac? Must I lose all semblance of sanity today?"

Esme huffs through her nose. "You're looking at this the wrong way, dear. This is about acclimating yourself to the scent. Alice said that if you work at it hard enough, you'll learn how to control yourself around it. You can even go back to school, if that's what you want, and the girl will stay safe. Now, isn't that something nice to look forward to?"

My mouth twists to the side as I deliberate my options. Either I stick my nose into a plastic baggie and sniff that cotton brassiere like a cocaine addict, or I do absolutely nothing and put a young girl's life in jeopardy.

What to do, what to do.

My eyelids slam shut, exhausted mentally at what's expected of me. The things I have to do to remain a compassionate vampire...

I lift up the Ziploc bag and pull at the sealed plastic. The girl's overwhelming scent immediately seeps out of the opening. My vision blurs. I go rigid with hunger. Madness overtakes me.

The monster crawls out of hiding.

One taste, it promises. What harm could it do? One little missing human wouldn't mean the end of the world.

Even though I should know right from wrong, the monster's tempting words work their magic. Quicky, I devise a plan. I'll sneak back into town tonight and find her house, just like Esme did. I'll wait until the girl is deep asleep before I strike. I won't let her suffer. Her death will be quick...

I'm coiled to spring into action when two sets of arms pin me to the ground.

The monster struggles and growls under their weight.

"Edward!" Carlisle yells in my ear.

Slowly, I come to. The Ziploc baggie is in Esme's hands. It's been sealed tight again. The girl's scent is locked within the confines of the plastic.

A heady blend of relief, humiliation, and foreboding causes me to slam the back of my head into the pine tree's trunk. The fact that as soon as her aroma curled into my nostrils, I lost my sense of self does not bode well for the girl's future.

Carlisle loosens his grip on my arm now that I have regained control of myself. He stares back seriously. "Maybe it would be best if you go to Alaska with Alice and Jasper for a while," he advises.

He's right.

I should leave Forks before I do anything I might regret. If I were to stay and hunt that young girl, I would undoubtedly give her a quick, painless death. But those few moments of bloodthirsty bliss would seal my own fate, too. I haven't tasted human blood in decades. And even when I did, I only fed from murders and serial rapists. Never had I touched a harmless human before. I know if I feed from this girl, I would feel the weight of her murder for all of eternity.

Yes. Alaska is a good idea. I imagine myself climbing into my Jaguar and leaving the Forks city limits sign behind. Mile after mile will be put between us. The girl will remain safe as long as I'm far, far away. I'll stay gone until she goes off to college. It couldn't be more than one or two years away. To a creature like me, that's nothing.

Yet, even as I imagine this, I can't help but think of the consequences of leaving. Of what I would lose.

Answers.

Before today I was never aware of how much I depended on my mind reading ability to unravel mysteries. Peering into someone's thoughts normally tells you even more than what you wanted to know in the first place. Now I have come across a person immune to my ability. Can I really ignore that anomaly and pretend it never existed? Can I let the mystery go unsolved?

"No. I can't," I breathe out, utterly defeated. "I can't leave. I have to attend that school just like we originally planned."

"Edward, don't worry about that right now." Carlisle frowns. "Don't put an innocent's life at risk on account of keeping our family's cover intact. You don't need to go to that high school. Esme and I will do just fine by ourselves for a little while."

My head shakes back and forth. "There's more to it than that. I can't leave. At least, not yet. There is a...complication that would haunt me forever if I were to never investigate." I pause to pinch the bridge of my nose. "Not only does this girl have the sweetest blood I have ever come across, she also appears to have an unreadable mind. All through the lunch hour I tried to pick up something from her, but I heard nothing at all."

Esme straightens her posture and tilts her head slightly. "Really? How odd. That's never happened to you before."

"Exactly," I emphasize. "That's why I can't just pack up and leave town. I need to discover what's going on. What if this girl isn't the only person out there who can ward off my talent? It's imperative that I ferret out her secret before more trouble comes along one day."

Even without reading his inner musings, I can see by Carlisle's tight-lipped stare that he is highly concerned. "Are you sure about this, Edward? Building up a tolerance to the scent will take time and effort. Is discovering why you can't hear one person's thoughts really worth the pain and suffering you'll put yourself through?"

"Yes."

With closed eyes and bowed head, Carlisle takes a moment of silence. When our gazes cross once more, he has lost some of the worry in both his thoughts and face. "All right. We'll help you as much as we can."

"Thank you." I turn my head a few degrees and determinedly eyeball the Ziploc bag. "OK, Esme. Open it again."

She fingers the plastic but doesn't open it yet. I detect a nervous edge to her usually graceful movements. "Are you sure?"

I give one, curt head nod in response.

Squaring her shoulders, she pulls the bag ajar.

Just like before, the scent assaults my senses mercilessly. All rational thought threatens to abandon me. My hands smash through the mountain snow until they reach the hardened earth underneath. I claw the dirt like a raging animal, fighting to maintain control. I barely hold on to my sanity.

A blood curdling scream echoes down the mountain pass.

I'm not sure if it came from me or the monster.

00000000000000000000

A/N-

Next Chapter- It's back to Bella's POV. She notices a few quirks belonging to that new family in town. Chief Charles Swan puts in an appearance and wields his authority. And, yeah, Edward's being kinda crabby and emo right now. But, remember, from now on he'll be forced to carry around a stranger's bra in his front pocket. Try to cut the boy some slack!

Thanks for reading. :-)