Chapter 14- All Shook Up
March 2, 2005
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When I rush out the front door the next morning, I eat a balanced breakfast of a cold strawberry Pop Tart and chug down a can of room temperature Dr. Pepper. I'm running a couple of minutes late and need to get to my locker before school starts. That sounds like something that shouldn't take long to do, but in actuality, it is an arduous task. My locker is the most beat up, piece of crap that you could come across. The locking mechanism sticks thanks to the last bozo that used it. He (or she) appears to have had an unresolved anger management issue and used the door to take out their frustrations. Because of that, it usually takes a lot of pulling, wiggling, kicking, and pleading for me to get it opened.
As I arrive at school, students are either strolling to their first class or huddled into small groups to share the latest news. One such group is stationed alongside the sidewalk that leads to my locker. It's Lauren's posse of friends - or the Maybelline Gang, as I have christened them, due to their tendency to slather their faces with so much make-up that it accounts for approximately five percent of their bodyweight. She stands in the very middle - one hand on her hip and eyes rolling to the heavens - as she yaps to her followers. Lauren holds no books nor lugs no backpack over her slim shoulders. One of her devotees probably carries them for her just so she won't risk suffering the indignity of cracking a nail.
Lauren's gaze fixes on me as I try to unobtrusively pass by, her eyes appearing colder than the blood pumping through a reptile's veins. Yet, I am surprised when her glossy lips turn up into a razor edge smile. Hate-filled glares are rarely harbingers of good news.
"Oh. Hi, Becca," she calls out, her voice as sweet as arsenic. "I just love what you have on today. Pulling off that rugged, lumberjack look is - like - so hard, isn't it?" The gaggle of gossips surrounding her immediately snort and snicker at her comment, the nearest equivalent to applause she could ask for.
I frown a little but don't otherwise show them how much their derision bothers me. My focus stays on getting away from Lauren before she can come up with something wittier to insult me with. I guess I could have fought fire with fire by telling her that the tacky, low rise ruffled skirt she chose to wear today is so short that it looks like she ripped it off of a Bratz doll. But I'm not brave enough to say anything like that out loud. So I instead hold my head high and keep on walking, bolstered by the thought that maybe karma will take pity on me and give her a zit tomorrow in retaliation to her childish putdown.
I can still hear their muffled giggling while I struggle to open my locker. I discover that there is a bright side to being mocked by the most popular girl in school. My pent up frustration helps me to shake my stupid locker door open in record time. Around one minute and fifteen seconds by my reckoning. Imagining that I was wringing her neck as I shook it turned out to really help a lot.
I arrive to English class with plenty of time to spare. The teacher isn't even here yet. Most of the students are out of their seats and talking amongst themselves. From across the room, Mike spots me dropping down onto my usual desk's chair and abruptly stops chatting with Eric. They both come over to say hello.
"Did you hear?" says Mike after he takes a seat in the next row. "It's supposed to be really nice this weekend. The sun's finally coming out." As he says this, he releases a starry-eyed sigh.
It's hard not to wince at his gullibility. One thing I learned long ago is to never, ever believe what the meteorologists tell you if they are trying to predict the weather here in the Olympic Peninsula. Unless they are legitimate psychics, there is a very good chance their prediction will be plagued with inaccuracies. Forks produces rainclouds like a factory that never gives its employees a break. I can't even begin to think of all of the times when Charlie and I had to cancel our plans all because of a faulty forecast. Even in the summer months when they promise gorgeous sunny skies, it's always a good idea to bring your umbrella.
"That's great," I say instead, giving him a wan smile. There's no sense for me to ruin his day with bothersome facts. If he hasn't figured out by now how this place works after living here for seven years, there's no hope for him.
He nods and leans his body a little closer as though he has a secret to share. "Yeah, it is. That's why I think we should go down to First Beach this Saturday. It might be weeks before we can get this kind of opportunity again. I can teach you how to roast a marshmallow without burning it."
Startled by the remark, my body freezes like a mannequin. Mike hasn't tried to ask me for a date in weeks. I became complacent and stopped worrying myself about it, assuming that he had finally given up on me. Now I see that he was just biding his time.
With rising panic, my muddled brain desperately tries to construct an excuse to get out of this. By chance, I notice that Mr. Mason has scribbled a reminder for us on the chalkboard. Inspiration strikes, and I weave a tale that even someone as experienced in lying as Edward would probably approve of.
I suck in a breath while clenching my teeth, seeming as though what I am about to say hurts me just as much as it will him. "Gee, Mike. That does sound like fun, but I doubt I'll be able to go. I have a school project that I haven't even started on, and my dad would want me to get it done before the end of the weekend. He's adamant about me using my spare time wisely so I can get into a decent college."
This isn't exactly a lie. I have an English paper due next Wednesday. I'm sure if Charlie knew of it, he would want me to finish it asap.
From the desk behind me, Eric groans as though he has a bellyache, his hand slicking back his tar black hair. "Aw, come on! You can't stay at home all weekend. You'll miss out on everything! There'll be a bonfire. And food. You won't have to bring anything. All you have to do is show up."
"You're going, too?" I ask with rising hope. If Eric is coming, maybe I misunderstood Mike's suggestion.
"Sure! A bunch of us are," he explains. He then recites a list of at least fifteen people that have already confirmed that they will be attending.
My mouth purses as I mull over this new information. This changes things a bit. If there are lots of people at First Beach, there's no way that Mike can mistake it as a date between the two of us. Plus, Eric mentioned that Jessica is planning on going too. As long as I make sure that she will be there to act as a buffer between Mike and me, I should be fine. Additionally, going out for a few hours does sound better than me moping around the house. Being reduced to pathetically wondering what Edward does on a Saturday night really tires me out.
"OK," I agree. "I'll come. I'll try to get all my work done in the next couple of days."
Eric and Mike's eyes meet and they grin widely, appearing more thrilled than the occasion calls for. This is another interesting manifestation that happens sometimes to the citizens of Forks. It's so dull here, even little things like me agreeing to go eat bologna sandwiches on a chilly beach in March makes its townspeople happy. God help them if something actually interesting happened - like a celebrity deciding to move here, or a McDonald's opening up that features a kids play area. They wouldn't know what to do with themselves.
When class ends an hour later, Mike tags alongside me and yaks about the upcoming trip as we exit the English room. However, once we leave most of the crowds behind us, he slows down to a crawl.
"Ya know, I'm really glad you decided to come to La Push with us," he comments.
I match his crawling pace and clear my throat before I speak. "Oh. Well, it sounds like a lot of fun. I haven't been there in years."
Back when I would come to visit Charlie during the summer, he would take me to La Push at least once before I would leave to go home. My memories of the place are kind of hazy. All I can really recall is a quaint peddled beach and chilly seawater.
His eyes flit around at the students passing by and his hand rubs the back of the neck. "Listen, Bella," he says in a lowered voice. "There's something I've been wondering-"
"Hi, Bella!" a voice squeaks to the side. Jessica rushes up to us, her notebooks and a textbook resting in her arms. After giving me a quick glance, her eyes immediately seek Mike's face and stay glued there.
"Hey," I say back. I don't dare say anything else. It would be useless. She's in I'm-staring-at-Mike-cause-he's-just-the-dreamiest land. I've lost her to all coherent thought and speech patterns until further notice.
With her free hand, she fluffs her hair. "Um, Mike?" she begins, coyly smiling. "Do you mind if I talk with you for a sec?"
Mike's face sags a little as he peeks my way. "Sure," he replies in an exhaled breath.
I say my goodbyes and continue on to my second period class, leaving them alone on the sidewalk.
An hour passes. When the bell rings again, I enter third period Trig and see a frowning Jessica sitting at her desk. Her eyes are downcast while she stares unblinkingly at her hot pink fingernails resting on her desk. She isn't chatting or gossiping with anyone. She isn't even smiling or bouncing in her seat. I've never seen her look this way before.
All attempts to get her to talk end with little success. I ask if there's anything wrong, but she is evasive with her response. All she will say is that she just isn't having a very good day. My mouth twists to the side. Jessica not telling me what is currently wrong is not like her either. She willingly tells everyone around her what she thinks and how she feels, even if you don't want to hear it. Once, she told the lunch lady that she couldn't take a plain vanilla pudding because only chocolate helps her deal with her painful cramps.
Even when I offer to do something that I absolutely loathe (which is asking if she has heard any juicy, new gossip lately), she shrugs indifferently and says that she hasn't. This makes me very concerned. She thrives on gossip. If she doesn't want to talk about who's cheating on who, or share the details of a first date she heard about secondhand, then there must be something seriously wrong.
She stays in this quiet, glum mood throughout third and fourth periods. When noon rolls around, she and I walk to the cafeteria silently. The only sound she makes is when we pass by a huge poster advertising that stupid girls' choice dance next Saturday night. She glances at it with drooping eyes, then let's out a long, drawn out sigh.
We enter the cafeteria and join the end of the line to buy our lunch. As I do every school day at this time, my eyes scour the room for a mop of perfectly messy hair. And much to my relief, I discover Edward already here and sitting at my table. Angela is his only companion, sitting in a chair across the table from him.
With our food bought, Jessica and I leave the line and cross the room. I notice that since I last checked, Mike has joined Angela and Edward at the table. His face is directed exclusively towards his tray of food, only moving when he wants to shove down a fish stick like a sword swallower.
I pull out the chair next to Edward and catch a hint of a smile on his face when our eyes meet, which helps to lighten my mood a little. But before I can enjoy it or even say a word to him, Jessica loudly yanks out the empty chair on his other side and takes a seat.
Furrowing my eyebrows, I stare at her. Why isn't she sitting next to Mike today? For the past few weeks, she always goes for whichever chair is next to him - even going so far as begging others to move so that she may achieve her goal. Yet here she is now, going to sit by her old, imaginary love interest.
"Hi, Edward!" she squeals, a newly plastered smile on her face. "I was just thinking. I thought that I should sit by you today. It's been a really long time since you and I had a nice, long talk."
Edward blinks back at her for a few seconds, an unmistakable air of bewilderment emanating from him. "Err... Yes, it has," he drawls in a wary tone.
"How has your day been so far?" she continues.
He takes a small breath, holds it, and then slowly releases it. "It's been tolerable."
Grinning like a maniac who just busted out of the looney bin, she says between gritted teeth, "That's great! Really, really, great!"
Appearing uncomfortable by her attention (or the fact that she looks like she is on the verge of a nuclear meltdown), he sits up in his chair and gently places his fork back onto his tray. As he focuses back at her, the tip of his tongue darts out to moisten his top lip and he sucks in a breath.
"And, umm, how has your day been?" he questions in a soft tone, sounding as gentle as someone trying to convince a Rottweiler not to take a chunk out of their behind.
The question seems innocent to me. Nothing to get worked up about. But Jessica appears to take it much differently. Her bottom lip trembles and her dark brown eyes turn misty. Everyone at the table tenses up. Except for Mike. He's too busy chowing down on his school lunch to take much notice of what's going on.
"You're asking me how I am?" she stresses after a short time. Her eyes flick over to Mike for a moment and almost instantly narrow into slits. Her attention then whips back to Edward with a face set in inflated surprise. "Wow! I guess there are guys at this school that actually care about other people's feelings!"
After that cynical comment, she begins stabbing her side salad's tomatoes with her fork like Jack The Ripper - a little line appearing in between her eye brows - and stuffing them into her waiting mouth.
Complete silence engulfs the table. Angela and I blink at each other in unison, concern evident on both of our faces. Yes, Jessica is normally a drama queen. Yes, she usually enjoys having attention drawn to herself and isn't above overinflating her problems to drum up interest. But this is different.
After she murdered a few cucumbers and tomatoes with the tines of her fork, her manner seems slightly calmer. Releasing a puff of air, a new, odd smile appears.
"So," she says, drawing out the word. "Edward. What have you been up to lately?"
He takes a brief, apprehensive peek in my direction before addressing her question. "Nothing especially exciting. Just studying and such."
A laugh on par with the Joker cackling at Batman pops out of her mouth, leading me to wonder if I should contact a exorcist to expel anything demonic from inside of her. However, this strange laugh does have the benefit of causing Mike to finally look up from his lunch tray. Their gazes cross and hold for a moment. On a normal day if she were to catch Mike's eye like this, she would either giggle and flirt outrageously, or sigh and continue staring at him as though he is the swooniest boy to ever roam Forks High.
Today, she does neither.
Jessica darts her fluttering eyes back to Edward, and her grin becomes wide and exaggerated. "Really?" she chirps with more enthusiasm than before. "That's so interesting! What else have you been doing? Watch any good movies lately?"
Understanding slowly dawns upon me. She's trying to make Mike jealous by showering Edward with attention. And I guess it might be working. Mike is watching the two of them closer than before.
With lowered forehead, Edward's mouth twitches, seeming to struggle to come up with an answer. "Uh...I watched Casablanca the other day with Jasper."
Her chin falls into her hand and she leans intimately towards Edward, her body vibrating in her chair. "You did? That sounds great! When did that come out? I don't think I've seen it being advertised."
A brief wince crosses Edward's face before it vanishes. "Well...it's a fairly old movie. We watched it at home," he kindly explains.
"Oh, OK," she nods, not embarrassed at all by that revelation. She straightens up in her seat but keeps her eyes locked on him. "Thanks for answering my question, Edward," she barks out in a voice loud enough to wake the dead. "I really appreciate it. Isn't it just the worst when you ask someone a question and they try to avoid answering you?"
"Yes, I suppose that would be rather annoying," he agrees with a cautious nod of his glorious, bronze head.
She does another Joker laugh, causing a couple of freshmen boys at the next table over to look at us with big, frightened eyes. Judging by their worried expressions, they'll probably find a new table to sit at tomorrow.
"See? I knew that you would understand what I was trying to say. You would never put off giving somebody an answer. Would you?" she presses, her brows smashing together.
My face grimaces with this additional information. Things are beginning to make sense to me now. Jessica was fine when I saw her earlier this morning. It wasn't until after she wanted to speak with Mike did she plummet into a depression. Then, when we walked by the school dance poster, her face showed only despair - not the excitement that she displayed when she spoke of it yesterday during lunch. And perhaps what is most telling is that she has been either purposely ignoring Mike today or staring at him stonily - her customary look of longing no where in sight.
This can only mean one thing - she asked him to the dance this morning. And he hasn't given her an answer yet.
At her question, Edward's eyes flick from my face to Angela's, probably desperate for advice on how he should proceed. The two of us stare back helplessly, both of us clueless of what to say or do.
"Uhh..." he hums, moving nervously in his seat.
"Cause you're not that type of guy. Whenever I've asked you something you always give your answer right away," she goes on, oblivious to his discomfort. "Remember? Like that time I asked you if you wanted to go to Brandy Ferguson's Christmas party with me and you told me that you couldn't because you had to go donate blood plasma that day? You told me right then and there. And you told me real quick, too. You said it so fast that it was like you had it memorized or something!" Then she erupts into carefree giggles, smiling up at him with wide, trusting eyes.
He chuckles back with a tight smile. It's highly likely that he did have that excuse memorized. Jessica doesn't realize how close to the truth she really is.
Now that Jessica has a legitimate smile on her face, Angela gathers the courage to talk and tells a gossipy story she overheard during her History class. The distraction seems to help Jessica, keeping her from laughing manically or weeping into her hands. I feign interest in the subject and try to keep the conversation flowing in the right direction. Edward contributes by asking probing questions about other people's lives he probably doesn't even know or care about.
As for Mike, he remains quiet during the lunch hour. He eats. He watches us. He listens. But never does he say anything. It isn't until it's time to go to Biology does he speak again. After Jessica leaves to go to her sixth period, he saddles up beside me and starts talking about how great the hiking trails are at La Push, telling me that they're so easy that "even a baby could walk them". I want to remind him that I can't walk across the cafeteria without finding something to trip over, so his description is slightly offensive to me.
He follows me to my lab table and sits on the edge, going on and on about hiking strategies for amateurs. Edward sits in his metal chair two feet away, his face pointed down to his opened notebook. The two of them never talk to one another. As much as I have tried to have a conversation with both of them at the same time, it never works out in the end. Mike completely ignores Edward and only talks to me, and Edward practically becomes mute whenever Mike is nearby.
"The spring dance is coming up soon," says Mike, suddenly switching topics.
I have to keep myself from groaning in agony. Talking about a lame school dance is worse than listening to him describing what can happen if a hiker doesn't dig a proper sized latrine. At least that subject is almost interesting and has a moral.
"Yeah. I heard about that."
Crossing his arms across his lap, he says, "It's supposed to be a lot of fun..."
"I'm sure it will be," I agree with a head nod.
His mouth jerks to the side and huffs out a long breath. Several seconds pass before he presses on. "Have you bought a dress yet?"
Knitting my brows, I refrain from saying anything right away. Mike likes chatting about wool socks and thermal underwear - not frilly dresses.
"No. Why would I need a dress?"
Clearing his throat, he begins fiddling with his fingers. "Uhh. You know...to wear that night."
I have to force myself to not snort a laugh. Most of the kids at this school don't understand that not everyone wants to go to a high school dance. The concept is foreign to them. They automatically assume that you plan on going to every and any school function just because it's something to do.
"I don't need one. I'm not going," I reveal, shaking my head back and forth.
Mike's eyes abruptly acquire a new shine that was not there before. "Oh, so no one asked you yet?" he questions, his voice rising in an oddly hopeful way.
Feeling as though I have awoken inside of a room surrounded by booby traps, I look back at him guardedly. Deep within my brain, my frontal lobe is trying to come up with a plausible scenario to explain Mike's newfound interest in dresses and school dances. And it's scaring me. A lot.
Taking my time, I choose my words carefully. "No... No one's asked me. But, anyway, isn't it supposed to be girls' choice?" As in, Jessica asks you to go, and then you accept. At least that's how it's supposed to work. I'm becoming worried that he is attempting to take a different path.
"Well, yeah," he concedes, his knee bouncing. Without looking at me directly, he adds, "But, what if someone were to ask you? Would you go to the dance then?"
With my worst suspicions confirmed, I try to remain calm. He's asking me to the dance without actually asking. I have to give him kudos on the strategy. Since he doesn't use the actual words "will you go to the dance with me?", he is safe from rejection. I'm not really saying "no" to him. It saves his self-esteem and keeps me from feeling as awful.
I give him a faint smile to lessen the blow before I give a response. "No."
I expect for Mike to look disappointed. Or maybe even a little sad if he had his heart set on going with me. Instead, his brow ridge sinks down in his very best impersonation of Oscar The Grouch. "Why not?" he grumbles.
I had hoped he would drop the subject without pushing for an explanation. I had hoped he would accept that I don't want to go to a dance without making a big thing about it.
You would think by now that I would learn that my life is never that easy.
Desperately, I search for a way to escape from his curiosity. I picture myself running from the classroom, hopping into my truck, and gunning it out of town. Of course, I can't do that right now.
But that does give me an idea...
"I-uh, I have plans that day," I claim. Inside of my mind, I'm busy scrambling to make up the details before he can ask.
Mike's blue eyes sharpen into pinpoints and he squints in a way that makes me uneasy. "Plans? Plans to do what?" he stresses coldly.
I try to overlook his sour mood and concentrate on making my excuse believable. What I say will likely be spread around. And I'm sure the closer we get to that stupid dance, the more people will be nosily asking me why I'm not going. Saying that I have other plans now will save me headaches down the road.
"I'm...going out of town that day. To Seattle," I say, looking him straight in the eye. If I were lying, it would be hard for me to do this. But I'm not really lying. I don't mind getting out of Forks for the day. I can drive to Seattle, sightsee, shop a little, and come back home at dark. Going there will probably even help distract me that day from thoughts of handsome bronze-haired boys going to lame school dances with girls that look pretty on the outside but are rotten where it counts.
His scowl gradually fades and is replaced with a pronounced pout. "Can't you go some other weekend?" he says in a high-pitched moan.
"Nope. I've been putting it off for weeks as it is. I have to go next Saturday no matter what."
"But the dance won't be the same without you," he responds in a nicer tone than before. "What if I told you that I...know someone that would be willing to take you?"
I sigh passes through my lips before I can stop it. Ordinarily I admire persistence, but I can't say that I do right now.
"No thanks, Mike. I really can't go," I weakly smile.
I watch the corners of his mouth drop into a frown, making me feel kind of sorry for him.
Then I recall that he put off giving Jessica an answer just so he could come ask me to go, so I don't feel quite as bad.
"So, who are you going with?" I question lightheartedly, secretly praying that he hasn't destroyed his chances with the one girl that's eager to be with him that night.
His body droops a little, and his lips curl up in a look of scorn. "I guess I'm going with Jessica," he mumbles.
I give a real smile, relief flooding through me. If he would only sound happy to go with her, maybe everything will turn out all right in the end. "That's great. I'm sure you two will have a lot of fun together."
Mike slides off the table and begins moving over to his assigned seat, no longer interested in talking. "Yeah... A lot of fun."
Once he is out of range, I let loose a sigh and relax into my chair. It's hard work trying to not hurt someone's feelings when they like you but you don't like them back.
In my peripheral vision, Edward's lustrous hair catches my attention. I turn and see his notebook filled with our Biology notes open in front of him, though I am somewhat surprised to find his probing green eyes are studying me instead.
Mr. Banner chooses this exact moment to begin class, so I have to limit my interaction with Edward to a small smile. Any conversations I may wish to have with him will have to wait until after school.
An hour later, the bell clangs and I stand up to collect my things from our shared table. Mike zooms by me like the Roadrunner and goes straight out the door.
Hmm. That's different. Usually, he walks to Gym with me since we share that same class...
"Bella?" croons the voice that haunts my dreams.
My body swivels around until I find Edward standing off to the side of our table. His books are tucked relaxedly at his hip, using a one handed technique that makes me a little envious of his advanced coordination skills.
"Umm, about this trip to Seattle," he continues, his lips pursued musingly. "Were you really planning on going there or was it just an excuse?"
My eyes fly open. I've been caught red-handed. Was it really that easy to see through my lie? Or, is he just so accustomed to making up excuses that he has a built-in lie detector?
"I... Uh," I stammer brilliantly.
Before my brain can think of how to respond, he adds, "I'm asking for more than just curiosity's sake, Bella. You see, I need to go to Seattle that day, too. My music collection is sadly lacking." One corner of his mouth curves up into a smile. And then he winks playfully.
Thousands of my brain cells die in a mass extinction event similar to the asteroid that killed off the dinosaurs. Crooked smiles and simultaneous winks can evidentially play havoc with poor, virginal girls' intelligence.
"What?" I exhale in a daze, feeling unsure if I can remain standing up without support. I still have Gym to contend with today. I need to make it there before I pass out. At least then Coach Clapp can't mark me as absent if my lifeless body lies on the gymnasium floor.
Like a baby learning how to first walk, I put one foot in front of the other and attempt to leave Biology class. Edward stays at my side, which is a good thing for me. Since he is the cause of my current discombobulation, I guess he should be the one to make sure I don't break an arm while I stroll to my last class.
Once in the open air, he begins talking again. "I was thinking that perhaps we could combine our resources and go together. We could take my car since it uses less gasoline than your truck. And, plus, as the saying goes, 'there's safety in numbers'. I certainly would feel far more secure if I had a companion like you to protect me from the unknown," he finishes in a teasing tone.
My feet become like weights, refusing to go one more inch. I think I understand what he's trying to say, but I find it hard to believe. He's either pulling a prank on me Ashton Kutcher style, or he's unaware that I plan on going to Seattle on the day of the dance.
"You want to go with me?" I ask with mounting confusion.
"If it's all right with you, of course," he nods, his eyes never leaving my face.
"But aren't you going to be too busy that day to go anywhere?"
Now it's Edward's turn to look confused. His forehead crumples down and he blinks back. "No. What else would I be doing?"
"Well..." I sigh. "I thought you would be going to the dance that night for one thing."
"I'm not going to that."
I gulp nervously and add, "But someone told me that you might be taking Lauren."
His nose crinkles up and his mouth pinches together as though he just sucked on a sour lemon. "That's ridiculous. Who told you such a thing?" he asks, his tone laced with outrage.
I begin walking once more, unsure of what I should say. Maybe Lauren was planning on asking him but hasn't had the chance yet. Or maybe she wants to make it a big surprise for him. And here I am almost ruining it. I may not like her, but I do like him.
But, I also can't lie. Not to Edward. He doesn't deserve to be lied to. So I have no choice but to tell him the truth.
"Lauren. At lunch yesterday," I confess, looking straight ahead. I don't want to see any excitement he may have because of this news.
We're nearly at the gymnasium doors when his hand comes to rest on my shoulder. Reluctantly, I stop avoiding him and meet his eyes. There's no smile on his face like I feared I would see. There's only a look of revulsion.
"She never asked me, Bella. And, even if she had, I would never accept."
"Why not?"
Edward raises one challenging brow. "Why would I want to? I regard Lauren as a person that must be endured. She is not the type of person that I would want to associate with either inside or outside of school. I have spent months trying to avoid her at all costs."
The angered look in his eyes gradually changes. Hardened jade becomes a soft, grassy-green field. I peer into them, becoming lost almost immediately.
His voice drops down an octave, sounding sweet and husky all at once as he adds, "Besides, I prefer kind, interesting people that can talk about subjects other than themselves or the faults of others. I prefer spending my time with people that don't realize just how perfect they really are."
My breathing accelerates by the onslaught of things happening around me. It's almost too much stimulation for me to handle. But two facts manage to stand out.
He isn't going anywhere with Lauren. He doesn't even like Lauren.
All that worrying I did yesterday and today was for nothing. I can feel my heart picking up its broken pieces and hurriedly glueing them back together.
"Would you like some company on your trip?" Edward asks, piercing through my muddled thoughts.
On its own, my head nods in a slow pattern, appearing as though I have been hit with unbelievable news. Which I have.
"OK," I say in a near whisper.
His answering grin almost blinds me. "Good."
We stare at one another for a short time - me in shock, him with a smile that isn't helping my I.Q. points any. He's the first to break the connection when he turns to peek at our surroundings.
"I suppose I should get to class before I'm late," he remarks with a twisted mouth.
Crap. I almost forgot we were at school. My head is currently floating around in the stratosphere thanks to him. I can barely think, let alone walk. And I have to go to gym like this.
"Yeah. Me, too," I mutter with rapidly blinking eyes. Backing away towards the door, I add, "Uh, see ya later." Then I rush inside of the gym before I do anything embarrassing in front of him. Like faint. Or drool.
In the girls locker room, I quickly change into our school's uniform of sweatpants and baggy Forks High t-shirt. I'm the last student out and I barely make it to the gym floor on time. Coach Clapp tells the class that we're playing basketball today and divides us into teams. Mike winds up on the opposing side. This makes my mouth frown a little. Although Mike may not have the best social skills, he is decent at most of the games our coach forces us to play, whereas I am not. Since I moved here, Mike has taken it upon himself to help me out during games of tennis, volleyball, kickball, and the like. Today, however, it looks like I'm on my own.
I've learned a couple of tactics to handle the stress of gym class. As long as you run around as if you know what you're doing and keep your eyes on whatever ball is being thrown or kicked around, Coach Clapp can't claim that you're not involving yourself in the game.
Additionally, word of my clumsiness has gotten around. The students that actually like playing these games have discovered that tossing me the ball only results in me spraining an ankle and the loss of points. So no one trusts me enough to pass me the ball anymore. That doesn't bother me one bit.
The basketball game starts the moment the coach blows his whistle. Sneakers squeak on the slick gym floor as students chase after the boy currently dribbling the ball down the court. While they have fun, I divide my thoughts on two things - making it appear that I give a crap about any of this, and Edward. Edward gets a decidedly more generous portion of my concentration.
He says he wants to go to Seattle. With me. I still can't wrap my head around it. He could go anytime he wants, I'm sure. He has his own reliable transportation. He can afford the gas it will take to get there. So why would he want to drive me there, too? Does he get bored easily and just wants a friend to tag along? Or is he worried about falling asleep behind the wheel of his car? The drive is around three hours there and three back. Maybe he's narcoleptic. He probably needs someone like me to poke him in the side whenever he begins to doze off.
I drop that conundrum and soon my thoughts turn to when he spoke about Lauren. Or, (more specifically) what he said after he made it clear he doesn't like being around her. He said that he likes being around kind people that don't realize how perfect they really are.
So what does that mean?
Who was he talking about? Was he talking about me? Emmett? Alice? Esme?
Who?!
He's so mysterious. Sometimes it feels like he speaks in riddles. I guess I should have pressed for more information when I had the chance. It would be awkward to bring it up again. What would I say? Excuse me, Edward. Remember when you said-
Boink!
Something smacks the top of my head and I feel myself falling. There's a vague pain up there too as my vision flashes to white.
"You all right there, Swan?" a gruff, authoritative voice asks.
Slowly, my eyes creep open - which I hadn't realized were even closed. Coach Clapp hovers over me, his thick brow ridge furrowed. High above him is the gymnasium's ceiling. And scattered behind him, I spot a dozen faces gaping back at me with looks ranging from concern to downright smirks.
That's when it occurs to me that I am flat on my back in the middle of the floor.
Wonderful. Someone must have tried to toss me the damn ball and it hit me square on the head. I need to know who this person is so we can clear matters up. They must not have received the memo that Bella Swan can't handle fancy moves like catching basketballs the size of pumpkins. Or running. Or walking. Basically anything that requires movement.
"I'm fine," I softly lie. At least I am fine physically. I don't have double vision. I'm pretty sure that I could say the alphabet forwards and backwards. But I am not fine mentally. I just humiliated myself spectacularly. And all because I was so focused on what went on with Edward, I stopped paying attention to my surroundings.
I have learned an important lesson today. Daydreaming about him can be dangerous.
The coach's eyebrow arches doubtfully at my claim. "Go sit on the bench," he orders in a sigh.
This new command perks me up into a sitting position. Getting nailed on the head isn't so bad if it gets me out of playing basketball. Maybe I can pay somebody to throw the ball at my head at the start of every game...
I watch the rest of the students play while I sit on the sidelines with an icepack balancing atop my scalp. I don't need it but it does give me a nice, injured look that helps to keep me off the court. There's a tiny bump in that area that wasn't there before. I'm afraid to see how many bumps I have up there in total. Sadly, getting bonked on my noggin isn't a rare occurrence for me.
As soon as the coach dismisses the class, I go to the locker room and slip back into my jeans and long-sleeved shirt. Lastly, I scoop up my things and head for the door, eager to get home and wait for a certain someone to show up for our daily study session.
The first thing I see when I exit the gym is Edward.
His shoulder leans against the red bricks of the gymnasium, an ankle crossed upon the other. One arm holds his books. His other hand's thumb is wedged casually in his front pants pocket, giving him an air of coolness. If he were wearing his black leather jacket and had a cigarette dangling from his lips, he could pass for one of the T-Birds from Grease.
Did that basketball hit me harder than I thought? Is he really here waiting on me or am I merely hallucinating?
"Hey," I say, nearly gasping.
Full lips curl up into a lopsided smile. "I thought that I could walk you to your truck. If that's fine with you?"
Warmth begins radiating through my chest - making me feel a little like E.T. the Extraterrestrial with his glowing chest cavity. "Sure," I reply. Like I would ever say no to that offer.
Strolling down the sidewalk side-by-side, we don't say very much. He asks if I have started reading any of the books I borrowed yesterday. I tell him yes, and mention that I've made it through the first few chapters. Then it's back to us walking quietly. I steal glances though. A lot of them. How could I not?
We pass around the math building and finally get a good view of the parking lot. Since my truck is larger than most of the small, compact cars here, it's usually the first thing I see. But today the first thing I notice is that someone is standing by my driver's side door.
I stop walking and squint my eyes to get a better look. I soon discern jet black hair slicked back with enough gel to grease my truck's engine.
It's Eric.
He stands there - fidgeting in place - as other students walk by. The black book bag on his back is practically bouncing because of his erratic movement, making it appear as if he skipped a much needed dose of Ritalin.
With the puzzle solved, my legs begin moving again in the direction of my vehicle. "That's weird. I wonder what he wants?" I say more to myself than to Edward.
"I'm guessing that he wants to ask you a question today, too," he replies, his voice light and charismatic.
Suspicious by his tone, I stop concentrating on the person by my truck and examine the face of the boy walking with me. He isn't smiling or anything. Yet, I sense a hint of amusement around him nonetheless. But all he does is shrug his shoulders and continues to stroll along.
We're around fifteen feet away now, close enough for me to talk to the boy waiting by the truck. "Hi, Eric," I say to break the ice.
Eric's mouth forms a faltering smile. "Hi, Bella," he quietly greets.
Edward stops walking and remains near the bumper, one hand slipping into his pocket as he looks on. I walk up to the door, pull out my keys, and turn the lock. It would be nice if I could open the truck door and set my books on the passenger side seat, but Eric is blocking me from being able to do that.
"So, what's up?" I say, backing up a few feet from him.
His dark eyes flick from my face to Edward's, pausing there for several beats before they return to me. "I-uh, want to-" he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean... Well-"
"Hey!" shouts a familiar voice from behind me. "What are you doing?"
My head snaps backwards, looking over my shoulder. I spot Tyler stomping in this direction. His normal, goofy grin is nowhere in sight. All I see is a deep frown and glaring eyes.
"I, umm... I was just talking to Bella," answers Eric once Tyler is in close range.
"Yeah, I can see that," Tyler sarcastically responds, his scowl increasing in strength.
I've never seen Tyler angry before. His emotions normally range from dopey happiness to just plain dopey.
"Hi, Tyler?" I say out loud, my forehead scrunched in bewilderment.
But Tyler never so much as takes a peek at me. His full attention stays centered on Eric. "You were going to ask her, weren't you?"
Eric's eyes dart down to study the gray concrete of the parking area. "Well..." he trails off.
Tyler's eyes enlarge and his face darkens to a tomato red. "You were!"
Eric straightens his lanky posture and stares back defiantly. "Maybe I was thinking about it, but I didn't."
Tyler huffs out a dry laugh and rolls his eyes. "Only because I stopped you! I thought we made a deal, man! We ask her to the dance and then let her choose which of us she wants to go with."
My mouth forms into a large O shape, gaping in horror. Up until this moment, I wasn't sure what their problem was. I thought they were arguing over something stupid, like maybe they made a bet to see how many miles per gallon my truck gets and needed me to settle it.
But this is more disturbing. They are arguing over me.
What's happening is similar to what often occurs after a car wreck along a busy roadway. Passing motorists can't help but slow down their vehicles just so they can stare morbidly at the carnage. And sadly, that's what's happening now.
Students are scattered all around us, watching the show unfold in front of them. Even the people already in their cars have stopped driving and shut off the motors so they won't miss out on the fun.
But what makes this already cringe-worthy event even worse is that Edward has a front row seat to this three ring circus. And he is smiling as though this is the most entertaining thing to ever hit Forks.
Please, God, open up a hole underneath my feet so I may die out of sight...
"Well, I didn't really agree to your dumb idea anyway," Eric retorts with narrowed eyes. "Besides, she was about to leave! I couldn't let her go without saying something. I can't help it that you were running late."
I realize that if I don't say something soon, somebody will probably call my police chief father to come break up the fight. I should try to intervene before things spiral out of control. There's a saying that goes "the truth will set you free". Hopefully, if I tell them the truth, I can escape this Jerry Springer-esque freak show with a little dignity intact. I can let them down gently by informing them that I'll be in Seattle that day.
"Guys?" I say during a temporary pause in their argument. "Thanks, but I'm sorry to say-"
"You could have stalled her for a minute!" Tyler interrupts without acknowledging me. "You know, friends do that kind of stuff for each other! I guess I was wrong in thinking that you were a friend, Yorkie."
With nostrils flared, Eric barks, "Oh! OK. If that's how you wanna be, then I guess it's first come, first serve from now on! I didn't want to ask her with you hanging around anyway."
"Fine by me! But today, since you were about to break our deal, I think it's only fair that I get to ask her first."
My hands ball into fists and I squeeze them until they hurt. These two idiots are too busy fighting to remember that I'm hearing every single word. I'm not a doe waiting to see which buck wins the battle before she skips off into the sun set with the winner.
"Excuse me! But I won't be in town-"
"No way!" yells Eric with a glower aimed towards Tyler. "That's not fair at all."
Tyler stubbornly folds his arm across his chest and glares back. "Well, there's no way I'm going to agree with letting you ask her first just because you were here before me."
Taking a deep, calming breath of air, I smash my eyelids together and focus on not killing them. Though, I think if I did do that, the jury would have to acquit me. Being subjected to disgrace in front of this many witnesses should be considered a valid excuse for murdering morons.
"I'm going out of town that da-" I announce in a louder tone.
"How about a coin toss?" cuts in Eric with puckered mouth.
"Hey!" grins Tyler in a happier mood. "That's a pretty good idea! I think I've gotta quarter in here somewhere..." Then his hand disappears into his baggy pants pocket, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth.
An earsplitting sound cuts through the air like a knife. Edward has two fingers thrust in his mouth, whistling in that way you sometimes see people on the movies do when they want to hail a taxi.
Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumber finally stop with the madness and shut their traps, their heads snapping in Edward's direction.
"Pardon me boys," he begins with a minute smirk. "I sincerely regret to inform the both of you that Miss Swan will be otherwise engaged the day of the spring dance. I'm afraid that you will need to find dance partners elsewhere." He strolls over to me, places a hand on my back, and gently maneuvers me closer to the truck's door. "Now... Would you two please excuse us? We really need to get going now."
Formally vital things like heart beats, breathing, and eye blinking halt. All I can do is gape up at him, completely dumbstruck.
Did he say what I think he said? Does he not understand what he just implied to these two?
Tyler and Eric's eyes flick back and forth from my face to his. Judging by their stunned expressions, I'm going to guess that they heard the very same thing I did.
Without a word, they leave separately and head to their cars. But not Edward. He just stands here as if he has nothing better to do. By degrees, the nosy students who had been watching Eric and Tyler's spectacle wander off too since all of the excitement is over with.
"I can't believe you just did that," I exhale.
"Did what?" Edward asks in a breezy tone.
I stare up at him skeptically. He's a smart guy. He should know that what he just said in front of them will be examined and misinterpreted. By tomorrow, every man, woman, and child will assume that he and I have some grand love affair brewing.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Edward," I hiss under my breath.
His green eyes widen innocently. "I was merely explaining to them that you would be busy that day."
My eyes roll into the back of my head. Yeah. Thanks a lot for the help. Now, not only will I have to explain to hundreds of curious kids that I will not be going to the dance, but I will also have to inform them that he and I are nothing more than good friends. That's going to be loads of fun...
"I could have handled it, you know. I'm not helpless," I respond with a rough sigh.
"No one said that you were. I certainly don't think of you as helpless. But they were being rude and ignoring you. I couldn't stand seeing them treat you that way."
My irritation slowly fizzles away. I guess he really was trying to help me. He just doesn't appear to grasp the situation we are in now thanks to his careless words.
"Fine. I guess I can understand that. But do you realize what you just did?" Filling with equal doses of anxiety and embarrassment over what I have to explain to him causes me to draw my bottom lip into my mouth. "You made it sound as if you and I are...together."
Edward's head cocks to the side, his brows drawing together. "Really?" he says in a disbelieving way.
My face falls at his naïveté, anxiety and frustration building up by the second inside of me. "Yes! Really. You know how people are around here. Tyler and Eric won't be able to keep their mouths shut. By tomorrow, every person here will be thinking that."
Stroking his chiseled jaw, he appears to analyze this distressing information. Roughly ten seconds pass before he has anything to say about it.
"You are absolutely correct. It was wrong of me to speak for you like that," he begins solemnly. "I should have stood back and allowed you to handle them. Would you like for me to go track them down and bring them back to you? I'm sure that they would still be interested in escorting you to the dance. Tell me, which eligible bachelor would you prefer?" Although there's no smile on his face, his eyes are dancing in unmistakable amusement.
Sensing that I am this close to slapping him for cracking jokes at my expense, I shoot him a dirty look, yank my truck's door open, and crawl inside. I then place both hands upon the steering wheel so I won't be tempted to hit him before I give a proper response.
"Shut up, Edward," I grumble.
One crisp, beautiful laugh erupts from his lips. Moving closer to the opened cab of the truck, his manner quickly reverts back to calm soberness. "Duly noted. However, before I shut up completely, may I say just one more thing?"
At first I plan to say "hell no". It's likely going to be a hilarious joke about idiots who have to work together as a team before they feel up to asking me out.
But then I grow to accept that most people probably enjoyed hearing them make fools of themselves. If it had happened to someone else, I would probably be laughing and making jokes too. I'll give Edward one more opportunity to tease me about it. But, if he tries to do it anymore after this, then I will slap him.
"Go ahead," I nod passively.
His hands grip the truck's roof and he leans into the cab, his eyes becoming soft again like they did earlier today. "I just wanted to say that if Tyler and Eric were to tell every soul at this school that you and I are together, I would not be offended." A small but breathtaking smile appears next, and his voice becomes light. "In fact, it sounds rather tempting to tell you the truth."
Before this moment, I was unaware of how powerful words can be. Because the words Edward has used just now has rendered me dumb.
My body goes limp. My hands fall from their position on the steering wheel and drop to the seat. I forget who I am, where I am, and what I should be doing.
Like an Etch A Sketch being wiped clean, his smile vanishes and his face goes back to its normal expression. "So...I was thinking that we should study for that Biology test first today before we go over anything else. What do you think?"
I gape back wordlessly, too astonished to respond. I know he's saying something, but I'm finding it hard to process it. He said something about Biology, I think. I don't want to keep him waiting forever, so I gradually nod my head in hopes that I am doing the right thing.
One corner of his mouth lifts up ever so slightly. "Great. I'll meet you at your place in five minutes."
These words kindly penetrate my mental fog and I repeat them in my head a few times so I won't forget.
Edward. House. Five minutes.
Meanwhile, he steps back and shuts my door for me. He taps on it once, grabs his books from the truck bed, and starts strutting to his Volvo parked a few rows away. As though under a spell, my eyes stay transfixed and follow him in the rearview mirror.
In one abrupt movement, he turns his head and looks back. One hand raises into the air, giving me a cheerful wave before resuming his trek across the parking lot.
Coming back to life, my eyes flutter as if I have been staring at a bright light, and I turn the keys in the ignition. The sound of my truck rumbling like a jackhammer helps to distract me from what just went down, and I drive out of the parking area.
As I head down the street, my mind wanders back to the events of today. Has everyone gone crazy? Jessica certainly fits that label based on her erratic behavior. But I think I'm more concerned about the boys.
My truck comes upon a red Stop sign and I put on my brakes, continuing to mull things over. Three boys tried to ask me to attend a dance that I would never go to, and the fourth proposed a long road trip and said things that he has never even hinted at before.
Are they all right? Did they all eat something spoiled in the cafeteria and some harmful bacteria is eating through their brain matter, making them all say and do things that they wouldn't do ordinarily? And did Edward get a more severe case of food poisoning? Maybe that's why he can easily go from saying that he doesn't mind the rumors that are inevitably being spread around about us to more mundane topics, like talking about doing our homework. Normal boys don't do that. I think...
Honk!
My eyes dart to my mirror. I see a shiny, silver Volvo waiting behind me, its driver staring at the back of my head with an arched eyebrow and teasing, lopsided smirk.
I immediately stomp on the accelerator and drive off before I stare vacantly into my rearview mirror for any longer. He follows a dozen or so feet behind me as we navigate through town.
My mouth forms a sullen frown. I can't even drive home today without making an ass of myself in front of him. How will my pride survive having him in my kitchen if I can't even look at him without becoming a vegetable?
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A/N - My pleading lead some of you to feel sorry enough to leave a review. I won't beg this time. Instead, I'm just going to say thank you. ;-)
Next Chapter - Bella doesn't know what to think about Edward, so she receives some unsolicited advice. News of what he said during the parking lot incident spreads like wildfire. And Edward doesn't seem to worry about it at all. Boys! smh
Thanks for reading! :-)