Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight

Chapter 7- Rollercoaster

It's another gorgeous day in Forks; I head to school in the pouring rain. Tylenol helped me sleep and I took some more after breakfast. I feel fine now, but I know sneezing or laughing will be painful.

By the time I slam the door of my truck shut behind me, the rain has turned into a drizzle. Several students hang out in the parking lot, their chatting a constant drone in the background, like from a beehive. We still have a few minutes before the first period. I automatically scan the vicinity for the Cullens, and I notice Lynn and Alice standing near their BMW. They talk to each other animatedly, maybe having an argument. I'm about to head to class when Alice suddenly bounds in my direction, dancing across the distance that separates us so gracefully I'm surprised I don't see cartwheels. She comes to a stop next to me, a beaming smile on her face.

"Hi Brandon, I'm Alice. It's nice to finally meet you." Lynn is stomping toward her, shouting her name.

"We'll talk later. There is something Lynn wants to ask you." She winks at me and she's gone just as quickly as she arrived and before I can manage to close my mouth or think of a reply.

"Alice, I'm going to kill you for this." Lynn shouts at her, seriously mad.

"No, you won't." Alice yells back, before punctuating her point with a tinkling, bell-like laugh. "You will thank me."

"Good morning, Brandon." Lynn composes herself and greets me with a shy smile.

"Good morning." I reply diffidently. Her mood has made another U-turn. Part of me rejoices, but another part of me is scared silly. I try to dredge up my annoyance. When she laughs a little at my surprised expression she makes it easier.

"Did you want to ask me something or do you just want to mock me?"

"No, I was just wondering if you are okay. I mean, you seemed to get hurt in the soccer game."

"Oh, right," I stammer, relieved and a little embarrassed. "I'm fine. It's just a cracked rib. It only hurts when I move too suddenly." For a moment I lose myself in her dazzling smile. And yet, she had been scowling for weeks, literally. What is up with her now?

"You know," I mumble, a little irritated again, starting to walk toward the buildings, "trying to keep up with your moods is like riding a rollercoaster. You're making me seasick and giving me whiplash all at the same time. I thought you said we shouldn't be friends….." My voice cracks a little at the end.

"I said we shouldn't be friends, yes, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be." She adds with a conniving smile as she strides next to me. I'm at a loss for words, not sure where this is heading.

"You stay up at night to write cryptic remarks you will use the next day on me?"

She laughs and smiles a little.

"You could say that…. But I'm sorry…." She says. "Despite Alice's help I'm really not good at this. You sidetracked me." She seems upset now. She bites her lip and looks down. "I didn't mean to annoy you. I just meant to ask you something…."

"Okay." I thought she just wanted to ask about my injury. What else could she possibly want? I'm good at French but she's even better. I'm sure she doesn't need my assistance. Maybe her special skills include eidetic memory.

"So, you know, about a week from now, next Saturday. The day of the dance…."

"You gotta be kidding me." I stop and glower at her. "I thought you said you didn't want to annoy me."

"Let me finish, please…" She adds, her voice softer. "I was teasing you a little; forgive me. Anyways, you said you are going to Seattle that day, right?"

"Yes," I reply cautiously. She was definitely listening to my conversation with Jessica. Maybe that's a good sign. Or is it? I'm thoroughly confused.

"I was wondering if you would like a ride…."

"A ride?" She always finds a way to make my head spin. If not with her smile, then with her words. "With who?"

She rolls her eyes.

"With me. Obviously." She enunciates slowly, one syllable at a time, like she's speaking to a slow child. I can't blame her. Despite that, her eyes are still gentle, and when they melt into another radiant smile I look at my feet, shyly.

"But why?"

"Well, I was worried your truck might not make it all the way there."

Ah, she's just being kind again. I don't need her pity.

"My truck is fine."

"It's pretty slow, and not good on gas."

"That's not your problem, though. Is it? I'm grateful you saved my life but that doesn't mean you have to help me out all the time."

I still pretend to find the pavement under my feet utterly fascinating. It's difficult to remain coherent when I look her in the eye.

She sounds frustrated now, like she's not communicating well with me. I would agree with that. Or maybe I'm just particularly dense today. That's another possibility.

"It's not that…." We have both stopped walking since we are almost in class. I lift my chin and look at her. Her lips are quivering, her eyes intense, smoldering. I stare at her, speechless. The world beyond the waves of her hair has ceased to exist.

"It's just that I'm so tired. Staying away from you is too hard. I don't think I can do it anymore."

Wait, what did she just say? Am I dreaming?

Still staring at me, she voices her question again.

"Will you go with me to Seattle?" Her casual tone is gone. Her voice is now thick with emotions I cannot fathom. Her eyes are sweet and pleading. I think I glimpse traces of hope, and fear. None of that makes any sense, but there is only one answer I can give her, even though part of me wants to hold on to my irritation.

"Okay." I reply, stunned. The clouds part once again, and the moonlight of her smile plumbs depths of my heart I wasn't aware existed. She walks away.

"I'll see you in class," she says turning to look at me one more time. It takes me a few seconds to remember that I also have to move and for my heart to start beating again.

The morning classes drift by as I sit in a daze and barely manage to pretend, often with poor results, that I'm listening. I zombie-walk from one classroom to the other, zombie-nod and offer zombie-replies when people talk to me, and zombie-eat snacks when hungry. Some of my teachers wonder whether I'm spaced out on painkillers. I mumble that I'm only on Tylenol and I think I watched too many movies and TV shows about zombies. I wish I were on something stronger.

In reality, I'm just too busy replaying, and analyzing from a variety of possible angles, my talk with Lynn. I am not aware of anything else. It wouldn't be so bad, except I also feel like I'm in an episode from the Twilight Zone. That girl is just so unpredictable. Our previous mutual agreement to ignore each other was painful, but this unexpected turn of events is puzzling, possibly frightening. For some reason my body temperature is fluctuating wildly, like I'm having a scalding shower one minute and a bath in arctic waters the next. Maybe I'm coming down with something. My thermometer is at home. I'll check my temperature later.

When I approach the cafeteria, flanked by Jeff and Mike, I pay little attention to their hackneyed banter about girls, I think, or is it sports? No, I just cast a worried glance in the direction of the Cullens' table, wondering what kind of mood Lynn is in. But she's not there. There are only four people, her brothers and sisters. Alice has noticed and she waves at me with a wink. I wave back half-heartedly, my thoughts busy falling into a pit of depression and despair. I imagine lonely moors at dusk, crumbling castles, unraveling clouds. Lynn has probably changed her mind again and decided to go home to avoid awkward explanations. Or maybe she was just joking around. She should be an actress. It's not that unexpected. I wonder why it still feels like a major blow to the solar plexus.

My friends steer me toward the food, and despite my dejection I pick up a few slices of pizza. My appetite is gone but I'm a growing boy and I need my nutrition, or at least my daily ratio of junk food. As we head to our usual table Eric yanks on my sleeve.

"Brandon, the Cullen girl is staring at you again."

What is he talking about? She wasn't even here when I checked. I follow his gaze and I see her sitting alone, at a table not far from her family. She's gazing at me, smiling. My temperature shoots up again, and then I feel like I'm freezing. Yup, definitely some kind of virus. I hope it's not the West Nile but it's possible. I don't think cholera is an option, here in the US.

"Yeah, she is." Jessica agrees with Eric, slightly peeved. Maybe she's wondering if Lynn will take me to the dance. And then, as I'm still looking at her, she winks and waves me over.

"She winked at you dude…" Eric mutters, filled with awe.

"Go talk to her, Arizona. Don't be an idiot." Jeff always oozes class.

"Yeah, I guess. Maybe it's something about our French homework." She's looking at me, again. She's uncertain, but her smile, strangely enough, resurfaces as soon I walk in her direction. I stop in front of her table. Jessica mumbles something about dumb boys under her breath.

"You're not sitting with your family…" It's not a question, but it was meant to be.

"I thought I'd rather sit with you today…. If you'd also like to, of course…." She chimes in her beautiful voice, and then looks down, like she was afraid she'd given away too much, shown her hand too early. I'm just as befuddled as ever.

"Okay. This is different." She pushes a chair toward me with her foot, cool as a cucumber. I grab it, sit and put down my tray. I want to smile too but I'm still too shocked. I can't remember how to work my facial muscles.

"What brought all this on?" I ask, tearing into my pizza.

"I'm going to hell anyways. Might as well enjoy it."

I swallow a chunk of cheese and tomatoes.

"You realize you are not making any sense right? And if sitting with me is like going to hell I can leave you alone…."

"It's not what I meant." She looks apologetic, eager to be forgiven.

"Okay," I add after a little more chewing. "What did you mean then?"

"I was just talking too much. I always do that when I'm with you."

I facepalm.

"I see. It's all cleared up then." I lay as much sarcasm as I can on those few little words. "Do you ever speak plain English? Or anything remotely comprehensible? Is that asking too much?"

"I…. there are things I cannot tell you. I'm sorry." She looks genuinely contrite. "It's for the best. I also have my family to think of. But I'm here, right? I wanted to sit with you….." Her admission seems almost painful to her, but important.

"I swear, I hear and understand every word you say and yet I just feel like I'm lost in a dense, dark forest on a foggy day."

"That's what I'm hoping." She whispers with a genuine smile that momentarily takes my breath away.

I eat more of my food in silence, pondering her words.

"You stumped me again."

She suddenly laughs.

"Your female friends are trying to bore a hole in your back Brandon. They can't figure out why you're sitting with me. And your girlfriend is really upset. She's looking daggers at me."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have any girlfriend. And my friends will survive…"

Her smile's wattage increases as soon as I dismiss the notion of a 'girlfriend'. My casual disowning pleases her.

"I might not give you back though." She says with a glint in her eyes. I swallow.

"Does that scare you?" She adds, smirking now.

"No, maybe the opposite to tell you the truth. It thrills me a little. But I'm surprised, pretty much flabbergasted really, and you realize you're still not making any sense. Are we friends now, then?"

"I suppose," she says. She sounds almost disappointed. I could kick myself. I don't want us to be only friends. It's a start though, and this whole conversation is nuts anyways.

"But I have to warn you. If you're smart, you'll stay away from me." The rollercoaster ride never ends with her. I try hard to read her expression. She sounds sad when she's warning me. Does she ever speak plain English?

"Does anybody in your family have schizophrenia?"

"I know you're joking," she says looking worried again. "But I can see why you might think that. I wish I could explain myself better…." Her voice trails off. "What are you thinking?"

I frown; okay, I'll tell her then.

"I'm thinking that it would be nice, once in a while, to have a conversation with you that doesn't involve enigmatic remarks specifically designed to mess with my mind. Or a clarification as to how you even learned to talk like that. Did you take a correspondence course?"

She laughs but her mirth is short-lived and she realizes I'm upset.

"It would be also nice to understand the reasons why somebody might save my life, in unusual circumstances, and then treat me like garbage for more than a month. In other words I would like to know what is going through your mind, actually."

"I apologize, I can't be clearer for now. I'm sorry." She bites her lip, lost in thought.

"Well," I say in a conciliatory tone, "if being smart means I'd have to stay away from you, I'm afraid I'm pretty dumb. I'm not sure I can be objective about things, especially when you're involved."

I want to kick myself as soon as I say all that. She will see through it. She will know I have no intention of just being a 'friend'. I'm already dreading her response. She will realize the misunderstanding, correct it, and crush me. I can't…. but no, she seems surprised, but not unhappy. Not at all. She struggles to contain her smile but eventually succeeds.

"You know…" I can't resist adding… "You asked me to go to Seattle with you. Now we are sitting together… I don't have any experience when it comes to girls but…. It seems like…."

"What?" She asks, frowning a little.

"No, nothing, forget it…."

She peers at me, her expression comically serious, like a cartoon.

"This is so frustrating…" She mutters. Maybe she knows how I feel now. "Won't you just tell me what you mean?"

I blush and shake my head. My English skills have gone on vacation. Maybe they'll send me a postcard.

"Okay," She finally says, her expression still serious. "Tell me something else then. Have you come up with any theories….? About me…? About the way I saved you?" She looks so intense, again. As if her whole life depended on my answer.

"Some." I say nonchalantly. "Nothing too original, I must admit."

"Can I hear some?"

"Sure." I'm glad the conversation is heading in different directions now. I just came dangerously close to admitting I have feelings for her. Strange, though, even now, despite our arguments, I feel like I have never had a conversation quite like this. I don't mean the topics, specifically. Of course this whole chat is bizarre to say the least, something from a book. You don't meet somebody like Lynn Cullen very often, if at all. But that's not it. I realize we are leaning toward each other, unconsciously, only interested in our private little world of two. Nothing else seems to matter.

"I think the most logical ones make sense." I say, warming up to the topic. I'll probably sound like a geek but whatever, at least we avoided a much thornier subject.

"You could be a mutant, born with unique abilities due to genetic mutations of some kind. Your family reminds me a bit of the X-men. Alternatively, well, maybe some kind of experiment? Some kind of super serum….."

She gawks at me and then laughs a little.

"You think I'm a superhero of some kind?"

"The evidence for that is fairly solid…" I state defensively, blushing a little. "You have strange abilities and you did save my life, remember?"

"Yes, but….You read too many comic books." Her forehead creases. Worry? Anxiety? Hard to tell.

"And no, you're not even close."

"I'm not?" I ask, honestly deflated. I thought those hypotheses really made sense.

'What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the villain of the story? The monster?"

"Oh," I say, almost snapping my fingers. I'm such an idiot. "I get it. You are dangerous. Even if my guess is incorrect, you and your family have some secret to protect. And hanging out with you guys can be hazardous. It would also explain why you don't fit in. I can see all that. But I will never believe you're bad. That's ridiculous. It's just what you want people to think so they stay away from you. It won't work with me."

When I'm with her I also talk too much.

"You don't care if I'm dangerous?" She asks, anxious. I can't tell the reason for her worry. Do I see hope in her eyes, or is it just wishful thinking? For a brief second I wish I'd never been born. This is unbearable and…

"Wait, where's everybody?" I just realized the cafeteria is almost empty.

"Going to class."

"I see. We'd better go then."

"I'm ditching class this afternoon. My grades won't suffer."

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" Darn, I can't keep my pathetic longing out of my voice.

"No, I'm going hiking with my family. I'll see you next week."

"I see," I mumble, hanging my head. I won't be enjoying her company for a while. "Okay, sorry, I have to go. Dad will hear it right away if I ditch."

"Okay, I'll see you later."

I hurry to French class, where I distinguish myself by answering incorrectly Mrs. Morrison's only question directed at me. I can barely remember the language we are studying, busy overanalyzing my lunch hour conversation now. Lynn, in just one day, has managed to wreak complete havoc in all my thought processes. This can't be right. Something else must be wrong. I will talk to my dad later.

The next hour, in biology, we do blood typing. The teacher distributes some micro lancets and papers to drip our blood on. It's a boring hour, the only entertainment provided by the two students who faint at the sight of blood and end up in the infirmary. The second one is Angela, and I take her to the nurse myself. She leans on my shoulder. As we head there I notice Lynn sitting in her car, listening to music. She must be waiting for the rest of her family.

Later that night, after dinner I finally find the strength to talk to my father.

"Dad, I haven't been feeling well today…"

"What's wrong, son? Your cracked rib acting up?"

"No, dad. It's just, I don't know, I couldn't sleep well last night and today…."

"Yes, son?"

"I've been feeling odd. I feel happy one moment, almost giddy with joy, and then next I feel like I'm gripped by despair. I also feel really hot one moment and really cold the next. I don't have a fever, though. I checked. Maybe I'm coming down with something odd…. What are the symptoms of the West Nile virus again?"

Dad turns off the television. It's just the news, the game hasn't started yet.

"Do you feel pain anywhere? Any other symptoms?"

"Not exactly, but at times it's hard to breathe, like there is something on my chest, and I don't mean my injury, something else. Other times my whole skin tingles. I can't stop thinking…"

Dad's eyes narrow. He looks worried now.

"Thinking about what? Not a girl you like, is it?"

"Yes," I say, my face suddenly hot and probably turning a shade of purple. "It is…. She is… It is…. I dn't know…. Why?"

Dad facepalms. It's a response that runs in the family.

"You're not ill, son."

"I'm not?" My dad is a good cop but he's not a doctor, maybe I should go to the hospital, seek a second opinion. I heard it's ticks season.

"No son. I'm afraid it's a lot worse than that."

"A lot worse? Dad, what are you talking about?"

"I think you're in love Brandon." His tone is dry and even, yet amused.

"I am?" I stutter, my jaw dropping open

"You're a man now, Brandon. It's only natural." A loud guffaw follows.

"You should see your face… You are in shock…" He chuckles, still obviously entertained.

"I am?" Yes, come to think of it, that makes sense. It doesn't make it any less scary. It's still not a good reason for sounding like an idiot.

"Who is the lucky girl? Is that the Angela Weber girl?"

In the past she spent a couple of afternoons here. I was helping her with our chemistry class.

"No, dad. I mean, she's nice but she's just a friend. The girl I like is Lynn Cullen," I say absentmindedly, reconsidering everything that happened today. Is my father right?

"Oh I see. Which one is she?"

"The youngest one. The girl with long dark hair. The one who pulled me away from that van, dad." The most beautiful one, I add in my head. The one in my dreams. The sultry demon who gave me another crack at the wheel of life.

"Oh yes. She's beautiful. Does she like you too?"

"I'm not sure, dad. Sometimes I think she does, other times I really don't."

Dad looks at me with real compassion in his eyes.

"You're going to be okay, son." I think of the pictures from his wedding with mom, pictures of our family, briefly together, before mom's escape from Forks. She has moved on but he's mostly still caught in a time warp.

"I am?" I reply again. Putting two words together seems to be the extent of my speech tonight.

"I won't lie to you son. It's your first love. It won't be easy. It's not just you. It's hard for everybody. Maybe it's just a crush…."

"It is?"

"But even if it isn't, yeah, you'll be fine. There is just one thing, son, I don't know how to... Just promise me you'll be careful, okay?"

"Dad!" I didn't know I could turn any redder. Now I do.

"It's not like that. I haven't even kissed her yet. Maybe I never will. And I know about that stuff. It's the twenty-first century after all."

"Okay, okay. Nevermind. But be ready, okay? Just in case. You never know when a relationship becomes, well, more intimate…." Neither of us is good at this, but I can't talk to mom. She would want to ask me questions all night and I wouldn't even know what to say to her; it's all so bizarre.

And then… suddenly I remember I told him I have never kissed her. Until this very moment, I hadn't fully understood how much that appeals to me; the idea of kissing her, when looked at again, sounds very pleasant indeed. But she's so weird, and maybe dangerous. Or so she says. Nothing makes sense. I excuse myself and go back upstairs even though I can't focus on the homework or my guitar. Instead, I go to bed and stare at my old pal the ceiling. In my mind, I only see Lynn's face, smiling or glaring at me. The way her forehead creases when she frowns. The softness of her lips. Her mane of hair. Why me? I ask myself before closing my eyes and making another futile attempt to sleep.