Chapter 11- Building A Mystery

March 1, 2005

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"He is a friend."

That has become my mantra, the chant I repeat in my head numerous times per day to keep my thoughts in check. It's what I remind myself each time Edward playfully winks to let me know that whatever he just said was a joke and shouldn't be taken seriously. It's what I remind myself when he is concentrating on his homework and his full lips pucker out ever so slightly, looking soft yet firm at the same time.

And he is my friend. I like being around him. Despite his good looks and adopted family's wealth, he isn't vain or arrogant. He doesn't cockily check himself out whenever he passes by reflective surfaces. Nor does he roll up his shirt sleeves and flex his biceps to impress me (though I wouldn't complain if he did). He doesn't brag about his accomplishments or smirk condescendingly if he knows a subject better than I do. He is genuinely a nice person to hang out with.

At school he has taken to watching out for my safety. There has been many times that I have tripped over a book, tree root, or the thin air, and before I fall down, he's right there catching me. I don't know if I'm just not noticing when he is nearby or if he has a teleport system similar to the one on Star Trek, but I'm nearly always stunned when he magically appears like that. Once he sees that I can stand on my own, he grins, pats me on the shoulder, and immediately strolls away as if saving me from making an ass of myself has become a normal, everyday occurrence to him.

When I was younger, I liked jigsaw puzzles. Mom would buy one every so often and I would devote hours of my time in trying to put the pieces together. As each jagged-edged piece matched up with its mate, my determination to complete the puzzle mounted. If it was a large, complex puzzle that required more of my time than one day would allow, I would get antsy and restless until I could get back to solving it.

Being away from Edward feels that way.

There's an air of mystery around him that is difficult to explain. He seems to be an honest, straightforward type of guy, but I sometimes get the feeling that he holds himself back. As if there's parts of himself that he purposely keeps hidden from the world.

He isn't much of a talker in public. Everyone takes notice of him but he balks at the limelight. Usually he prefers to watch and listen to what is going on around him instead of taking part in the conversation. When he does speak, I find myself hanging on to his every word, hoping that he will reveal another facet of his personality that I can add to what I already know about him.

It isn't until he is alone at my house does he open up more. Sometimes I can even wrangle information out of him. He doesn't talk about the Cullens very often, but I can see from his small smiles that he admires Dr. and Mrs. Cullen very much. Once, he remarked that Esme fusses over him more than a mother hen, but I think he is too polite to say much to discourage her. Last week, Edward told me that one of Carlisle's new patients had been incorrectly diagnosed for years, and it wasn't until the doctor ran a few tests based on only a hunch did they discover that the man had a rare genetic disease. Now, Edward proudly shared, the patient was taking the appropriate medication and was well on his way to living a more stable life.

Rarely does Edward mention his life before he moved to Forks. If the subject of our conversation gets too close for comfort, his face often transforms into an expressionless mask and he steers the topic to other things. Reining back my curiosity, I go along with it.

But there is more to the puzzle of Edward Masen than just mysteriousness concerning his past. He isn't like most of the other teenagers that live in Forks - or anywhere else that I have ever lived for that matter. While they are listening to the latest pop song or imitating the rap styles coming from their car stereo, I'll sometimes hear Edward quietly humming some mellow sonota while we study. When the other students are using slang terms like "phat", he uses words like "fortuitous" and uses it correctly in his sentences - a rarity for our generation.

With him, it's always hello, good evening, and goodbye. It's never hi, what's up, or see ya' later. His speech is formal and crisp, boasting a warm, honeyed voice that is pleasing to the ear. Yet, despite the formality, he somehow makes it feel natural and not at all unusual. All I can say is that it suits him. If tomorrow he showed up and said, "Hey, how's it going, Bella!" and sounded identical to everyone else at school, it would feel as though he were trying to be something that he is not. And I prefer genuineness to conformity.

I've tried to come up with explanations as to why a boy his age talks like he stepped out from a Percy Shelley poem. One hypothesis is that he went to some fancy private school in Chicago. Maybe the teachers there were aristocratic British expats who forced their American students to only speak in the proper "Queen's English". This theory has the added benefit of explaining why he has such impeccable manners. Those fussy teachers probably whacked his knuckles with a ruler whenever he slouched or ate with the wrong dinner fork.

Although it's not often that he discusses personal matters, he isn't afraid of speaking his mind. Call me paranoid, but I think Edward intensionally tosses out controversial comments just to see how I will react. What he says is never inappropriate. It always involves school, literature, or something of equal blandness. But it almost always blows me away.

For example, while we were busy focusing on our worksheets on Act I of Macbeth, he stopped concentrating on his paper and looked me straight in the eye.

"I was just thinking," he began, his eyes squinting musingly. "Shakespeare wrote plays such as Macbeth where there is barely one main character that has any moral integrity. So by the end, when many of them are dead and gone, you don't mind it very much because they were largely comprised of self-absorbed, petty human beings.

"Now let's take a look at a play like Romeo and Juliet. The main characters are advertised as being one of literature's greatest lovers. Star-crossed, and all that. However, if you peel back the layers, I think that you will find that they were just as flawed as Macbeth or his wife. Romeo and Juliet were merely young, selfish, naïve kids that did not know each other well enough to say if they were really in love or not. They are grossly overrated as a couple in my opinion."

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. I couldn't believe what I was hearing coming from this seemingly intelligent boy. He had to be kidding me.

"What? You can't be serious," I said in shock.

"I certainly am serious," he placidly replied, leaning back in his chair. "Take Romeo, for example. At the beginning of the play, the boy speaks of his infatuation with Rosaline as if he believes that she is the only girl for him. Yet, as soon as he sees Juliet, he immediately switches his fixation to her. Don't you find that to be disloyal to the first girl? He is far too fickle with his affections to be taken seriously. Then, on top of all that, Romeo murdered Juliet's cousin. That alone should have been an indicator that the honeymoon wouldn't end well," he wryly adds.

Just the words Romeo and fickle being used together was enough to set me off. I launched into a fiery defence of Romeo and of the play itself. I told Edward that one of the things that makes the play timeless is the fact that their love was so instantaneous and all-encompassing. I told him that it wasn't Romeo's fault that Tybalt had to die, the guy was way too antagonistic for his own good. And as for Rosaline, Romeo early on may have thought he was in love with her but he really wasn't. He had to meet Juliet to realize that their love was more powerful than what he had ever felt for Rosaline.

Much later that night, I realized that I spent ten minutes explaining how Edward was wrong and I was right. He willingly sat there and listened to me ramble on about an Elizabethan era tragedy that most people only have a passing interest in. Not only that, he was the one that instigated the conversation in the first place. It makes me believe that he likes classic literature as much as I do. Or maybe he just likes to see me ranting and raving like a crazy person. That would explain why he left the house with a smile that day.

Sometimes he'll say something seemingly insignificant during casual conversation, but the way his face changes expression makes me believe that there is more to the story than he let's on.

One day after school, I was thinking back on the time when Edward mentioned that he had once been a boy scout. I asked him if he had told me the truth. He answered with a yes and added that he joined the group as a young child. I laughed at the thought of a city boy like him needing to know which wild berries he can safely eat in Chicago. But he surprised me by rattling off half a dozen reasons why it helped him in his every day life that had very little to do with the outdoors. As a joke, I mentioned that all I learned at that time of my life was how to paste macaroni noodles to construction paper and how to shove cookies into my mouth like Cookie Monster.

"Who?" Edward questioned, his brows knitted together.

"You know. Cookie Monster. From Sesame Street?"

He stared at me, blinked a few times, then shook his head. "I'm not familiar with that place."

At first, I assumed that he was either kidding or too embarrassed to admit that he used to love Elmo as much as I once did. "Oh come on, Edward. Everyone watched that show at least once when they were kids," I laughed, rolling my eyes.

As soon as those words left my mouth, his emerald green eyes sharpened. "Well that explains it then," he quietly muttered. Then, in a louder voice, he said, "Before I moved here, I never watched television. I watch it on certain occasions now, but on the whole, I avoid it like the plague."

My smile fell into a thin line, realizing that he wasn't kidding. It's one thing to say that you don't watch it very often. But never? That's almost unheard of.

"Never?" I pressed skeptically.

He shook his head slowly, keeping his gaze fixed on my face. "Never."

I leaned forward in my chair and swallowed nervously. Now I was bursting with so much curiosity that I could barely stand it. "Why not?" I pressed gently. Although I knew that I was treading on shaky territory when it comes to his past, I was hopeful that he would give me some sort of an answer.

His eyes dropped down to the table and the corner of his mouth twitched. He remained quiet for several moments. Once that time passed, he meet my gaze head-on and held it, barely blinking.

"My family was different from what you may be accustomed to," he said in a velvety voice. "We were eccentric in comparison to most people that live around here. In our spare time we read, listened to music, went to plays, and occasionally the movie theater. But television was never considered an option." A smile, faint and enigmatic, appeared on his face. "I suppose you could say that my parents didn't believe in it. And since we never watched it, we never missed it."

Thanks to that insight, I now picture his family in Chicago as being those paranoid types of people that believe the government is using the TV to broadcast subliminal messages, so they banned it from their household before Edward was born. They probably had tons of dry rations stored in a bomb shelter in their backyard, waiting for the day that us TV watchers finally went mad and started ravaging the city.

I probably wouldn't know as much as I do know about him if it wasn't for the fact that he comes to my house far more often than we originally agreed upon. He was supposed to come only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But by that first Friday, he mentioned that an upcoming Spanish quiz had him worried. I told him to drop by my house after school and I would see if I could help.

Then, the next Monday, I said that I didn't understand that day's trig assignment and could use some extra help.

I lied.

He followed me home and helped me with my homework that afternoon. I should have felt ashamed for dragging him to my kitchen and making him teach me something that I already knew how to do, but I really had no choice. It was either I lie shamelessly, or I admit that going back to an empty house where I wouldn't see his face or hear his voice depressed me. Lying was the better, less embarrassing option.

After that day, I utilized every excuse I could think of to get him to hang out with me after school. US Government quiz preparations. Trig tests. Biology extra credit that I didn't need. It got to where I was disappointed when our teachers didn't assign us homework. If that's not a sign that I have become a pathetic loser, then I'd like to see an example of someone who is.

But at least he has gone along with it so far without complaining. For the past month, he has come to my house every school day. By the second week, I didn't need to come up with a reason for him to come over. It gradually became normal for him to just show up and study with me. No excuses required. I liked this turn of events very much.

So now I am addicted to having him around. He smiles at my lame attempts at making jokes. I laugh when he says something snarky and witty. He even keeps me company while I get dinner started. During these times, I try not to fall, cut, burn, or similarly humiliate myself while in his presence - but that is almost impossible. Combining my clumsiness with his distracting voice and face really isn't safe. There have been many near disasters. Usually, after I have burned a knuckle on the stove or something equally dumb, Edward will try to whip out his cellphone and say that Carlisle should take a look at it. I'll tell him that I'm fine but rarely does he believe me. It takes a lot of convincing to make him realize that I'm not injured enough for medical attention.

Charlie has taken Edward's increased appearances at the house exactly as I had anticipated. At first, he grumbled and stomped around the living room whenever he came home and saw Edward's car parked at the street. But after I showed Charlie proof that my trig grades were improving, he couldn't gripe as much. So now the worst he does is sulk. And spy on us. And ask me if I'm OK every so often. Yes, it's annoying, but as long as he doesn't try to ban Edward outright, I'll take it.

My low points are the weekends. I have no excuse to see Edward then. There's no more homework till Monday, and I can't bring myself to ask him if he wants to hang out just for the fun of it. What if he were to tell me that he has better things to do than entertain me? So, I spend my weekend moping around the house, either cleaning or staring forlornly at my bedroom ceiling until there is something more exciting to do. But since this is Forks, there never is. Hanging around someone that is actually interesting has obviously spoiled me.

I did try to find something fun to do on my own. After all, before I moved here, I was a loner. I was happy being alone. So one Saturday, I grabbed my truck keys and headed to the Forks Public Library. They have books, I reasoned. Books are my friend. They will occupy my attention and keep me sane until Monday.

I knew the library existed thanks to the telephone book, but it was hell to find. I drove up and down the main road trying to track it down. It wasn't until I made my third pass through town did I spot it nestled between a pawn broker and a shoe repair shop. I parked the truck and stared at it incredulously, not quite believing my eyes. No wonder I didn't see it at first. It was tiny. Charlie's living room was bigger than that place.

I stepped inside of the small library and saw that the town's entire collection of books was just a fraction of what a normal, well-stocked library would have. I tried not to be too discouraged. I told myself not to judge the place too harshly. I told myself to give it a chance. I might find a decent book somewhere in there despite outward appearances.

I never did.

All of the books looked to be decades old, and in many cases, torn and falling apart. The ones that were in better shape proved to be disappointing. I saw DIY books on how to repair septic systems and building barns out of discarded pallets. There were books on how to make your chickens happy and healthy. I found books on the fungi and mushrooms that can be found on the Olympic Peninsula. One book from the '50s advised me on how to keep my husband happy by serving him dinner promptly and always smiling - even if I don't feel like it. Books that a normal, average person might want to check out were nonexistent. I left empty-handed and went back home to read one of my own books. I would rather reread a classic novel than bother with anything they had on the shelves.

I knew before I even left Phoenix that life in Forks would be different. I knew I wouldn't have all the niceties that a large city has to offer. I knew I would be bored sometimes. I knew that I would miss my mom. These things were no surprise.

But I never knew that my life could flip upside down just because of one person. In the past few weeks, I've went from having nightmares of being trapped here forever to having dreams of a smooth, deep voice whispering soft words into my ear. I can never remember what he says in my dreamworld, but it never fails to put me in a better mood when I wake up in the mornings. I don't give the dark gray clouds the stink eye quite as much either. How could I? Soon, I will be at school and see a smile that rivals anything the sun can do.

This morning is no different.

Pulling into the school parking lot, I see his silver Volvo parked near the office building. Seeing that Edward is already here sends my spirits skyward, making me smile too. I can't help it. I think I have already established that I have a crush that's lingering around for longer than I thought it would. And knowing that he's around somewhere makes me happier than I care to admit.

Parked next to the Volvo is a humongous Jeep that I've seen Emmett drive. Edward stopped chauffeuring his siblings to and from school a few weeks back. Now that he comes by my house most afternoons, he drives alone. The rest of them car pool in either Emmett's Jeep or Rosalie's ruby red BMW that costs around a zillion dollars. I should probably feel guilty for forcing them to rearrange their school transportation, but Edward assured me that it was fine and not to worry about it. I'll sometimes see Alice grinning at me from afar and that does make me feel better. If she's smiling that must mean that she doesn't mind the added hassle too much.

I walk across the lot, dodging parked cars and students, and head towards my first class of the day. As quickly as possible, I pass around a couple of girls that appear more interested in gossiping about the latest news than getting to class before the bell rings. Then, as I make my way around the corner of the Math building, a face plastered with an oafish grin pops in front of me.

"Hey, Bella!" a voice screeches like a capuchin monkey.

I flinch and my throat makes a startled gasp, sounding eerily similar to a dying goat. Books, papers, pencils, and my butt plummets to the damp sidewalk. I think I scraped the palm of my hand, and my right shoe has landed in a mud puddle. So now instead of wearing two white, squeaky clean sneakers today, I now have one in splotchy, wet brown. Great.

Besides the times when I'm in gym class, I haven't fallen down like this in weeks. I've become used to Edward swooping in from the sidelines and catching me before I make contact with the ground. So where is he this morning when I need him? Oh, that's right. He's in class. Because he has better things to do other than saving me every five seconds.

Sigh...

From my sprawled position on the sidewalk, I squint up at whoever it was that scared me to death. The person is looking down at me with wide, astonished eyes. His mouth is shaped like the letter O. At least he appears sorry for what he made me do.

But then, like the inbred idiot that he is, a dopey grin reappears on his face.

"Man! That was a rough landing!" Tyler chirps perkily. "You should really watch where you're going!"

It's hard for me not to shoot him a well-aimed middle finger, but somehow I manage to control myself. I limit my annoyance to a pointed glare which he probably won't notice anyway.

"Yeah. I guess you're right," I agree with clenched teeth.

I stand up and regather my scattered possessions. Tyler watches and points out things I missed. He doesn't actually make himself useful but he definitely thinks he is doing me a favor. I don't have the heart to break it to him.

Once I'm done, I tell him a quick bye and try to pass around him before he can suck me into a conversation that I can't escape from. He stopped bothering me about the car accident a couple of weeks ago and I don't think I have ever been so relieved. From that time forward, we have kept our interactions mainly to a brief hi or hand wave. But since he has sought me out this morning, I am very worried that he wants to go back to asking if he can tune my truck's engine or scrub out my locker.

Instead of taking the hint that I don't want to talk, he joins me at my side and walks with an odd strut, his backpack hanging loosely from one shoulder. He flips his long, shaggy hair out of his eyes and says, "Guess what?"

"Hmm?" I grumble, looking straight ahead.

"You gotta guess first!"

I heave out a sigh and my shoulders sag. I'm not prepared for this. If I had known that Tyler was going to pounce on me so early, I would have faked stomach cramps and told Charlie that I was having "lady issues".

"You're moving?" I ask, kind of wishing that I had a magic lamp that could make my sarcastic statement come true.

Throwing back his head, he laughs like a loon, thinking that I made a joke. "No way! This is good news. Not bad!"

I snap my mouth shut before I can inform him that our opinions in regard to good and bad news must be widely different.

Continuing on, he says, "I'll give ya a riddle to make it easier for you to guess. My dad bought me something that's metal, has wheels on it, and it usually stays near the garage."

"You got another car?" I gasp in disbelief. This is terrible news. Now that I know him a little better, I can't imagine anyone thinking that it's a good idea for him to be driving anything more advanced than a ten-speed bicycle. He doesn't pay attention to his surroundings. He's easily distracted. And knowing him, he probably thinks the rearview mirror is there just for making sure your hair looks all right.

Another bright grin lights his face. "Whoa! You guessed it right on the first try! My dad gave me that same riddle last night and I thought he was talking about a garbage can. You sure are smarter than you look!"

"Thanks," I mumble under my breath.

"You're welcome... It's a Nissan Sentra. My dad found it at a used car lot in Tacoma and bought it on the spot. I think you're gonna love it once you see it!"

Tyler looks so proud of himself that I try to hide my terror. Now that he will be on the road again, the whole town is in trouble. I slap on a fake smile and say, "Well, that's great. I'm sure you'll be very happy now that you can come and go as you please."

"No kiddin'!" he guffaws. "I'm dying to get out of town. I'm thinking of maybe heading to Port Angeles in a few days."

"Oh. That sounds nice," I remark as I step closer to my English class.

"Yeah. It gets great gas mileage. Twenty-nine in the city, and up to thirty-nine on the highway. I'll save tons of my allowance now that I won't need to spend as much on gas. That means I'll have plenty of money to use for anything I want. Like video games. Clothes. Dates."

"That's nice."

"And it's really safe too! It got an A rating overall in its crash tests. It's much safer than that old van."

"That's great," I hum. Now that we're in front of my building, I add, "Well, this is my class. See ya later, Tyler."

I'm walking into the classroom when I hear him shout behind me, "You can come check it out after school if ya want! It's blue! With pin stripes down the sides!"

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Like every school day of late, I get fidgety once the clock hits noon. One of two things will happen today. In scenario one, Edward will sit at my regular table in the cafeteria and I can talk to him. In scenario two, he will sit with his family. I don't like the second scenario very much. You would think that since he's my lab partner in my very next class that I wouldn't mind if he doesn't feel like hanging around me right now. But you would be wrong. I haven't seen or spoken to him since yesterday afternoon. I feel edgy and restless, my knee bouncing anxiously under the table. This must be what it feels like for a drug addict to quit cold turkey.

I'm sitting at my table, pretending to be interested in my lunch and not what Edward is planning to do today. I see him standing in the lunch line with Emmett, so it shouldn't be long before I find out.

Angela sits to my right. She's been quiet ever since Jessica started talking about some dumb school dance that's coming up in a couple of weeks. Jessica yapped about the theme for five minutes straight, proudly reminding us that she's on the dance committee and is in charge of putting up the decorations.

Mike is sitting to my left. He tried telling me something about fly-fishing, but thankfully Jessica distracted him by asking how you would even catch a fly in the first place. Now he's busy explaining the finer details of the sport and temporarily forgetting that he was talking to me originally. He still doesn't seem all that interested in starting a relationship with Jessica, but she presses on stoically. She makes sure to sit with him every chance she gets, which is great since it keeps Mike from devoting his concentration entirely on me. Jessica will giggle and twirl her hair around her finger as she urges him to tell her about his day. Never one to walk away from the opportunity of spreading his vast knowledge to the world, he will then give her what she wants - attention.

Across the table from me, a chair is yanked out and Tyler plops down onto the seat. "Hey, Bella!" he blurts. "I didn't finish telling you about my car. Did you know that it has loads of leg room?"

"No. I didn't," I say with mounting confusion. Tyler usually sits with his friends near the trash bins. They spend their lunch hour pretending that they are basketball players and try to toss their unwanted food into the cans. Why he is over here and missing out on all that fun is a mystery to me.

"Yeah! It's got so much leg room that, if you were a passenger, you could stretch out and relax while I drive," he exuberantly reveals.

My forehead scrunches down, bewildered by why he is sharing this information. "Uh..."

"And the passenger seat is super comfy! It's leather!" His head flops to the side and he adds, "Well...it's really just seat covers but you can't tell the difference... And it's not really leather. They're made from some sorta plastic that only looks like real leather. Dad bought them cause the last owner must'a spilled mustard all over the driver seat. The covers still kinda have a funky smell too, but I'm sure it will clear out soon."

Why is he telling me all of this? Is he trying to sell me his car?

"Oh. That's interesting," is all I can think to say.

He then starts talking about it's safety record again in greater detail, chatting about air bags and seat belts. He shares how his dad made him reread the state's driver's handbook before he could get behind the wheel. Now, he claims, he is practically an expert when it comes to driving. And since there's no ice around, the chances of him having another accident is slim.

I don't buy it. But I smile and nod anyway. I'll just make sure to park the truck far, far away from his car.

Tyler starts digging into his food and shuts up, allowing me to relax a little. His brain must be running on empty and he needs to eat before he can tell me more about his new car.

As I turn my head to see where Edward is now, the chair directly across from me gets an occupant. It's a girl I see around here a lot who makes it a point to never speak to me. She did say something once but I really don't count insults as being a great introduction. Her name is Lauren. She's blonde, pretty like an ice queen, and wears more makeup than I would put on my face for Halloween. Plus, she is popular, has a legion of friends, and probably has a busy social life.

She and I are nothing alike.

My lips droop into a frown. Realization has slowly dawned upon me. Edward is still in the lunch line. All the chairs at this table are taken. There's no more room. That means there will be no Edward today to talk to. Sure, I have Angela at least, but I've got Mike and Tyler to deal with today. And now Lauren too. And I don't know what to make of that. Based on the eye roll she does whenever she passes by, I doubt she has decided to come over and invite me to a slumber party.

Once settled comfortably, she lifts her head and catches my eye. A slow, creeping smile takes over her face, yet her flat, fishy eyes still feel cold. I hide the shiver that passes through me and give her a small nod of acknowledgement.

"Well, hello there," Lauren coos in a sing-song voice. "I don't think we've meet before. I'm Lauren." She laughs a couple of times. "But you knew that, right? I'm pretty well known around here."

"Yeah. I know who you are," I reply uneasily.

"I thought so," she smirks. She turns her head a few degrees and focuses on Angela, who has been staring at Lauren with the same baffled look that I have on my face. "Hey, Angela. You don't mind if I sit here today, do you? I'm - like - really bored and needed to sit someplace new."

"No...I don't mind," Angela slowly responds.

After that, Lauren remains quiet for a while. Mike and Jessica are still in deep conversation, so they don't seem to notice the uncomfortable tension that has settled in. Tyler is busy stacking his tater tots into a tower, grumbling with disappointment whenever they fall. I almost wish he would say something to break the awkwardness that has settled in ever since Lauren appeared. That's how desperate I am.

Angela must feel similar to how I am feeling. She coughs, clearing her throat and squirming in her chair as she watches Lauren daintily pecking at her salad. In what I assume is an attempt to relieve the tension, Angela asks me if she ever told me about what happened when her parents tried taking her little brothers to Chuck E. Cheese's in Seattle a couple of years back. I say no, and then listen to her story. It begins with a flat tire and crying children who pouted because they would be late for their promised lunch at the restaurant. Their father braved the heavy, cold rain and dodged traffic while he changed the flat. They arrived at the restaurant an hour late but they were all relieved that they made it unscathed. Five minutes later, the three year old twins witnessed an animatronic rat creepily blinking his eyes and singing with his band of eerie animal-mutant robots. The poor kids screamed in terror and had to leave the restaurant before their food had even been ordered. To this day, the twins refuse to go back to that place. I can't help but laugh at the story.

"I forgot that you had brothers," Lauren pipes in. We turn our heads to find that Lauren is giving a saccharine-sweet smile. "How old are they now?"

"They're six."

Lauren grimaces as if that information repulses her. "Ugh! I don't see how you can stand it. Kids that age are - like - so gross and annoying. Their little fingers dirty up everything!"

"Josh and Isaac aren't so bad," Angela defends in a steady but low tone. "They're good most of the time."

Lauren's disgusted expression disappears almost instantly. Her head tilts while her eyes widen with feigned innocence. "I'm sure they are," she condescendingly agrees. "I was just pointing out that they must be a handful."

"They can be sometimes."

"And I bet you get stuck babysitting a lot too, huh? You probably miss out on a lot of fun things just because of them," she presses on, ignoring the offended look on Angela's face. "Like, I bet you don't get very many weekends free."

Angela shakes her head. "Actually, we use babysitters on most Saturday nights. It's only occasionally that I watch them."

"Oh. That means you will be free next Saturday. That's great," Lauren replies in a shrill, nasally voice. "So who are you going with?"

"Going with?" Angela repeats, stumped by Lauren's question.

"You know. The girl's choice dance. Everyone's going to be there. Who have you asked to take you?"

Angela's face stares down at her lunch tray for a few beats. "Umm... No one?" she shyly admits.

Lauren does a gigantic eye roll. "You don't have much time left. You should probably think about asking the guy now instead of waiting till the last minute." She focuses on me and adds, "I bet Becca has already planned on how she's gonna ask the guy she wants to go with. Haven't you?"

Now it's my turn to squirm. Not only does she not seem to know my name, she also lives under the delusion that Bella Swan would ever attend a school dance. I can barely walk without falling to the ground. Dancing is dangerous. I would take people down with me. Having me there would be like inviting a less intentionally violent Carrie to the high school dance - except it would be my own blood that would spill when I accidentally knock down the punchbowl instead of me taking revenge against my classmates.

"It's Bella," I correct her.

Her lips pucker out and she does the innocent look again. "I'm sorry. Bella. So have you made any plans?"

"No. I haven't," I answer simply, avoiding giving her any details.

"I haven't made up my mind yet either," she airily sighs. "There's a couple of guys I'm thinking about asking, but it's so hard to choose between them. Jeremy wants to go - like - really bad with me. But I'm putting him off until I make up my mind about the other guy."

"I see," I mutter noncommittally.

Lauren's smile spreads, her canine teeth exposed like rattlesnake fangs. "Yeah... Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm starting to lean towards asking the other guy. I'm dying to know what he'll look like in a suit. Edward and I take Gym together, and he looks smokin' hot even in that yucky uniform. He's in great shape. My only question is, I wonder what dress I should buy for that night? Should I try to match him or wear something more flashy? What do you guys think?"

My heart lurches in my chest. As far as I know, there is only one Edward at this school.

"You're thinking about going with...Edward Masen?" I ask, gulping nervously.

"Uh-huh. He and I are - like - really good friends. I was the first to meet him after he started coming to school here. We talk and laugh all the time. But I'm thinking that maybe it's time to kick it up a notch. Maybe see if there's more than just friendship holding us together."

"Oh," I respond numbly. If Edward is friends with her, does that mean he spends time with her too? Is that what he does on the weekends while I'm bored out of my mind?

"He's such a nice guy too. That's one of the things I like about him." She squints her eyes as if she is thinking very hard about something. Then, refocusing on my face, she says, "Wait a minute. But you already know about that, don't you? I think I've seen you with him a couple of times."

"Well, yeah. We're study partners. And friends." I leave out the part about him being the object of my obsession. It doesn't hurt to give her only half the truth. If she and Edward are destined to be together, I don't want her to think that I'll try to steal him away. But, let's face it, there's zero chance of that happening anyway. Edward treats me like a friend. There's no way in hell that he would look at a Plain Jane like me when he has girls like Lauren waiting to swoop in.

Shrewdly, she nods her head up and down. "Oh... That's interesting. And you said that your name's Bella, right?" I nod my head and she taps her long fingernails against the table. Around ten seconds pass before she speaks again. "Well isn't that weird? I wonder why he hasn't mentioned you before? He is usually so talkative..." Her bottom lip juts out, ruminating that anomaly. Suddenly, she's giggling, her pale blue eyes shining. She leans across the table, the tops of her breasts peeking from her low-cut pink shirt. Then she adds in a conspiratorial whisper, "But I guess it doesn't matter if he forgets things. I think I distract him a little when we talk. I shouldn't get too mad at him, should I?"

Nibbling my bottom lip, I start feeling a strange sensation. I've read about it before, however I have never experienced it personally. My chest feels heavy. I'm finding it harder to breathe. I know what it's called. Heartbreak.

I can't say that I can blame him if he does like her. Lauren is very nice looking in a overly girlie kind of way. She wears feminine skirts that show off her figure even if it's freezing outside. Her pale blonde hair is always perfect. She accessorizes and moisturizes and probably a lot more -izes that I don't even know about. I'm sure she even knows how to flirt. She obviously is in a league well above my own.

Lauren starts bragging about trips to San Francisco, spa treatments, celebrity gossip, and a dozen other topics that cover everything under the sun. Listening to Lauren is like being with Jessica - if Jess had an irritating nasal quality to her voice and injected demeaning commentary to everything she talked about.

The bell clangs and I shuffle out of the cafeteria in a haze, going over everything Lauren said. It hurts me just as much as the first time.

While I'm lost in my own sorrow-filled world, I vaguely sense someone sliding up by my side as I walk. It's Angela. She looks over both of her shoulders, then leans closer to my ear. "She's lying, Bella," she says in a mumbled voice.

"What?"

"Lauren was lying," Angela clarifies. She glances around again. "Or at least exaggerating, I think."

"About what?"

"Bella! Wait up!" yells Mike from behind us. I heave out a groan and stop walking. Angela clamps her mouth shut and doesn't say another word, leaving me guessing as to what she wanted to tell me. Lauren said so much that it could be nearly anything. I could only hope that it had something to do with Edward.

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Edward was quiet during Biology. He spoke sparingly and seemed to have trouble maintaining eye contact with me. Once at my house, he seemed to relax a little. He spoke more easily and resumed his usual, casual suaveness. A pencil is wedged in between his thumb and index finger. As he works on his trig homework, I watch his hand smooth back his coppery hair. It flattens down for a few seconds before popping back up like a Jack-In-The-Box. It's hard to stop watching him and concentrate on my own homework. Especially today, it seems. I want to bring up Lauren and ask him if they are just friends. But, of course, I don't. It's not my business what she is to him.

So I shove down the anguish until I can barely feel it, and repeat my trusty mantra that I use for occasions like these.

He is a friend.

I have no claim on him. If he goes to that stupid dance with her, that's fine. He'll still be my friend at the end of the day. I can take it.

I think.

Burying myself inside of my Government textbook, I read chapter seventeen and gradually stop worrying about everything that I can't control. I'm in the middle of reading about checks and balances when I am interrupted.

"I noticed that Tyler was buzzing around you again today," Edward says aloud, his lips curled into a lopsided smile.

Thinking about Tyler again pushes me further into a depressive state. He wanted to talk with me an awful lot today - more than what my frazzled nerves can deal with. Goldfish have more developed brains than he has. And it hurts my ears whenever he talks. It's L.A. surfer lingo mixed with preteen girl screeching at her favorite teen idol. Tyler sounds like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle who got kicked in the nuts.

"Yeah, he kept popping up everywhere I went today. He finally stopped bugging me about the accident last month, so I really don't understand why he is taking an interest in me again... And he was acting strange, too... He kept mentioning that he had a new car every other sentence," I explain wearily.

Edward's eyes flick back and forth from his homework to my face. "Really? And, did he, uh, ask you anything or mention anything else?"

My forehead wrinkles as I gaze back at him. He's never seemed very interested in Tyler before. "No, I don't think so. Why?"

Shrugging his shoulders, he breathes out, "Just curious." Then, with barely a beat in between that statement and the next, he says, "I heard that we'll be starting Jane Eyre in English once we're done with Macbeth. I should think that it should be fairly soon. The teacher said so this morning. Were you aware of that?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I guess this will be my fifth time reading it if memory serves me right."

A deep, rich laugh fills the room. His smiles widely, eyes crinkled at the corners. "You could just skip it since you obviously know the book so well," he says in an amused tone.

I refrain from maniacally laughing at him since that would likely scare him off. Bella Swan doesn't pass up reading a decent book just because it's something she has read a thousand times. "I could - but then what else would I read? Mansfield Park for the umpteenth time?" I counter with a small smile. I stopped keeping up with how many times I've read that one after I passed fifteen.

"Then why don't you get something new to read?" Edward wonders.

"I would if I could, but the library here barely has anything interesting. Once I saw the poor selection, I decided to not even bother getting a library card," I reply with a small, despairing sigh.

Entering into a silent spell, he purses his mouth and wags his pencil in between his fingers as he stares off into space. I lower my head and try to read my textbook again, but I can't seem to stop watching him out of the corner of my eye. After a short time, he drops the pencil on the table and says in a thoughtful tone, "You could borrow some books from my family's library. There are tons to choose from."

My head snaps up and I try not to salivate at the thought of there being a trove of books nearby. The Cullens have their own library? How wealthy are these people if they're calling their book collection a library?

Quickly, I decide that Edward is probably making it sound better than it actually is. I'm sure if I had asked around, someone would have said that the public library in Forks had "tons" of books to choose from, too. Plus, I don't think his family would appreciate Edward bringing me their books. They haven't even met me before.

"Your family's library?" I ask incredulously. "I don't think that's a good idea, Edward. They don't know me."

"Nonsense," he says with a shake of his head, basically waving off my concerns. "They won't mind at all."

"You couldn't possibly know that," I retort, narrowing my eyes.

His face remains impassive, only a lone eyebrow cocks up at my skepticism. "Well, seeing as how you won't take me at my word, why don't you come to my house and you can ask my parents yourself? Though, I can practically guarantee that they will not mind in the slightest. They are the most generous people I've ever met."

My brain starts to repeat his words on a loop. You can come to my house, he said. I haven't seen his house yet. I don't even know where it is except that it's out in the country somewhere. Jessica once mentioned a rumor that it was large - like a castle in looks and scale. I have to admit that I am curious if it's as grand as she believes. This is a very tempting offer Edward is making. Borrowing a book or two and seeing where he lives?

Damn you curiosity.

I agree to going as long as I can ask one of his parents if it's OK if I borrowed a book. Edward nods his head and smirks as though he has finally won an argument. And I guess he has. He better not get used to that feeling.

Glancing at the clock, I see that it's a few minutes past four. Charlie probably won't be home until after I get back since one of his deputies is on vacation. But I don't want to be wrong and have him show up at home thinking that I've been kidnapped. So I dig out a piece of paper and write a note saying that I stepped out for a little while and I'll be home by six. I'm not telling him where I'm going. If I wrote that I was going to a boy's house, he would have a stroke. He wouldn't understand that Edward isn't interested in seducing me like he first feared.

I lock the front door, and carefully walk down the slippery steps. Edward follows close behind me. Once I reach the grass in the front yard where my truck is parked, he blurts out, "What are you doing?"

I swing around to answer his question, but my feet slip on the damp grass and I start to wobble as I try to keep upright. As usual, his hands shoot out and grab me by the shoulders before I go down. After I am standing up safely once again, I straighten my back and raise my chin up high to hide my embarrassment. "I thought I was driving to your house," I reply in an irritated voice.

He takes his time before he says anything to that. His fingers tug at his hair as he stands rigidly in front of me. Flicking his eyes away for a moment, they soon return but appear different from what I'm used to seeing. They seem to lack the confidence that he normally exudes.

"I can drive you. It's a bit difficult to find the place," he announces gently.

"But then you would have to drive all the way back here, Edward," I reply, shaking my head vigorously. "That's too much trouble." I can't ask to borrow books and hitch a ride when I have a perfectly good vehicle to take me there. I can follow behind him. It would be ridiculous for him to chauffeur me around.

He releases a deep breath, and closes his eyes. "No, it's not. I want to do it," he stresses.

His eyes slowly reopen, locking onto my face and intensifying the longer they stay there. They're unspeakably beautiful at any given time, yet somehow they are more so now than ever. Maybe it's the way they're gleaming in spite of the gray, misty daylight. Maybe it's how he's looking at me from under his thick lashes, pleading and sincere. Or maybe it's both of these things and more that have enraptured me.

"Please," he adds simply. He draws the word out, making it vibrate on his tongue and through the air. It sounds soulful and deep.

And it's too much for me to handle.

I can no longer speak. I can't formulate a decent argument when faced with him looking at me like this. I'm so disoriented, I don't even remember why I was arguing in the first place. My mind is a total blank.

He doesn't fight fair.

Struggling to maintain some semblance of sanity, I blink my eyes to try to clear my head of the spell he has put me under. Then, with a couple of quick head nods to show him that I'll go along with what he wants, I turn away from the hypnotic boy and escape to wait by his car's passenger side. I avoid looking in his direction as he comes to unlock the door. My heart needs time to beat normally again. I slip inside the car and try to relax.

A couple of minutes after we leave my house, I feel more in control of myself and take a peek his way while he drives. He has one hand on the steering wheel as he passes around a slow moving compact car. His free hand rests on the center console. It kind of fascinates me to watch him drive. He seems so self-confident and controlled. As if nothing could take him by surprise.

Without warning, he moves his head a few degrees and sees that I am watching him. His mouth forms into that crooked smile that I find far too appealing. I swallow roughly and try to smile back. It's weak, but I do it. Then, he resumes focusing on the road ahead of him.

My eyes smash themselves shut in an attempt to block out all visual stimuli that I shouldn't dwell on.

He is a friend.

He is a friend.

He is a friend.

I don't think my helpful little chant is working all that well anymore.

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A/N-

Next Chapter- All of the Cullens in the same room with Bella! What will they say? What will Bella think about them? And, most importantly, will they be thirsty? You know what they are, right?

Thanks for reading! ;-)