Chapter 15- The Rumor
March 2, 2005
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"Bacteria and fungi break down dead organisms by releasing what into the matter?"
Edward sits across the table from me and reads aloud from our Biology study guide, quizing me in preparation for our upcoming test. He leans back in his chair and holds the paper upright with his fingers. His manner is the epitome of unflappable relaxation.
"Enzymes," I mumble back without making direct eye contact. It's not that I don't want to look at him, because I do. I really, really do. But this is a matter of self-preservation. If I were to risk a peek, he might dazzle me to such an extent that I can no longer speak. Again. And that definitely wouldn't make things any better for me.
It's been like this ever since we got to my house after school. I sit here nervously wringing my hands and try to answer the school related questions he tosses out. Meanwhile, he talks about strategies to improve our grades. He speaks of the project Mr. Banner will soon assign that he isn't looking forward to doing. But he makes absolutely no mention at all of the events that played out in the school parking lot today.
How can he just sit there like nothing unusual happened? How can he stand asking me questions about bacteria and fungi when there are far more important things we could discuss? Like the fact that our names are probably being linked together in the Forks High gossip chain. I hate to even contemplate on how stressful tomorrow will be when I have to deal with a bunch of nosy kids that have everything wrong.
And what kind of a guy says those things to the girl he has only ever referred to as a friend and then doesn't even have the decency to elaborate? Is there something wrong with him? I guess it's possible that he really does have a multiple personality disorder. Maybe his two personalities have absolutely no idea what the other one is up to.
The side of himself that he usually displays is friendly but subdued. The Edward that I know doesn't intentionally try to draw attention to himself in public. And he would never say anything that could be taken the wrong way.
Yet, the other side of him that he occasionally shows is what worries me the most. This Edward smiles at you charmingly, aims a wink that leaves you on the brink of having a stroke, and declares that he wouldn't mind there being rumors about the two of you being a couple.
And once he has your head spinning from all of this, he then appears to forget about everything he said or did. He goes right back to being the polite, reserved boy you've gotten to know in the past few weeks.
"And this process is called?" Edward says encouragingly.
"Decomposition."
Unable to go without looking at him any longer, my eyes shift to his face. My plan is to take a quick glance before he notices. But when I find his face, I discover that he is already watching me. His mossy green irises are bright and beautiful. To add to my delirium, he flashes a small smile that raises the temperature of the room by a few degrees. Having hot flashes at seventeen can't be good.
"Correct. But let's see if you can answer this," he emphasizes while turning the page. Then he delves into much tougher Bio questions to test me on.
Learning my lesson, I keep my eyes locked on the '70s era painting of sunflowers that hangs on the wall behind Edward. I don't look at the artwork because I like it. To be honest, it's downright tacky. Some grateful citizen of Forks gifted it to Charlie years ago. He dislikes it just as much as I do. But now he's too worried about offending the person who gave it to him to get rid of it. However, it does serve me well now. Concentrating on something so ugly helps to dispel the effect of having Edward in the same room with me.
Later, once we've finished with the Biology notes, we work independently on our other homework assignments. This makes it much easier for me to spy on him without getting caught. I watch his body language, searching for signs of what's going on inside that handsome head of his. But I can't deduce a thing. He reads from his Spanish book and fills out the accompanying worksheet without appearing troubled, nervous, or anything.
How come his hands aren't shaking like mine are doing under the table? Why am I the only one that can barely function? That's not fair.
If I had a courageous soul, I would confront him. I would press for answers until I felt satisfied that I was given the whole story. I'd ask him if he was serious about what he said to me today, or has he merely found something fun to do in Forks by playing mind games on the new girl. Or maybe he regrets saying those things and that's why he hasn't brought it up again. That's possible.
But I can't ask. I'm too chicken. If it is a mind game, prank, or something similarly devastating, I don't want to know quite yet. A part of me wants to hold on to the fantasy that he cares for me a little too.
Being a pathetic, confused, lovesick girl really sucks.
While I am struggling to make sense of everything, Edward's right hand abruptly disappears underneath the kitchen table and he pulls out his gold pocket watch. He still keeps it well hidden at school. I've noticed that this kitchen is the only place he will ever openly pull his watch out. The fact that he feels comfortable enough to do that around me makes me happier than it probably should.
With his thumb, he flips open the watch case and glances at its face. "It's almost six. I suppose it's time for me to go," he sighs as he stuffs it back into his pocket.
I attempt to hide my disappointment that he has to leave. I may not be able to look at him right now without blushing, but that doesn't stop me from wanting him to stay longer. I must be a masochist at heart.
My body wilts in my chair until my shoulders droop. "Um. Yeah. OK. I guess your family must be waiting for you to show up for dinner."
He pauses in his task of gathering his things and his eyes lock on mine, drawing me in like a U.F.O.'s tractor beam on its helpless abductee. This only serves to make my already blushing cheeks flame redder than before.
Stupid boy with his trance-inducing eyes that leave me in a delirious mess...
"Oh, I doubt I'm keeping them. I'm sure they have already eaten," Edward says with a smirk. "Besides, they like to keep things casual around there. I'm the only one that prefers to stick with a schedule."
The phone starts ringing behind me, freeing me from his gaze. I push my chair back and make my way across the room to answer it. Hopefully, he won't notice how wobbly I am as I walk.
As my fingers wrap around the telephone receiver and I lift it to my ear, I see that Edward is now standing by the kitchen door with his books tucked at his side.
"Well, I'm off," he announces. "I hope that you have a lovely evening." And then, as if he has a remote in his pocket that controls his facial expressions, his eyes go from their smolder setting to stun.
I swallow and clear my throat, probably sounding like a four-packs-a-day chain smoker. "Yeah. You too, Edward."
He leaves the room with a lopsided smile, leaving me heaving in his wake. The only bright side is that now that he's gone, I can let loose and allow my face to blush as much I want.
Suddenly recalling that I have a phone in my hand, I suck in a breath and slowly release it before I deal with the caller. Hopefully, it's a telemarketer trying to sell me a magazine subscription or something. That should help distract me for a little while.
"Hello," I say in a remarkably calm tone.
"Isabella Marie, do you have a boy there with you?"
The voice I hear drains my face of color. All signs that I was blushing moments before have been wiped clean. I'm not prepared to deal with this right now...
"Uh. No?"
"But, honey, I heard him," my mom insists from three thousand miles away.
"Well...I'm alone now."
I hear a quick intake of breath on the line. "So you admit it then? You had a boy with you?" she stresses, her voice rising excitedly.
I heave a sigh of frustration. This is exactly why I haven't informed her about the studying arrangement Edward and I set up. She won't understand. She has a tendency to jump to conclusions. If I had told her, she would have assumed that just because her daughter has a male friend that drops by five days a week that it must mean that something more is going on between them.
I guess it's possible that something is going on now. But how can I answer her inevitable questions when I have no idea what's going on myself?
"Yes. There was a boy here. But he's gone now, Mom."
Anticipating her reaction, I hold the phone away from my ear. A giddy, high-pitch squeal that even Mariah Carey would likely have trouble hitting comes from my mom's end.
"Finally!" shrieks Mom. "I was beginning to think that this day would never come! So why didn't you tell me you were dating, sweetie? How long has this been going on?"
"You're getting way ahead of yourself. We're not dating."
A few seconds of silence pass. "Then what was he doing there with you?"
Nervous by the question, I begin wrapping the phone cord around my index finger. "Studying. We, um, were doing our homework together."
"Oh," she replies, all excitement in her voice gone. More seconds tick by where she doesn't make a sound - which is unusual for her. Then she asks, "What did you say his name was?"
"Edward."
"Edward?" she repeats in a strange tone. "As in the boy that pulled you out of the path of a runaway van, Edward?"
My head jerks back, startled by her question. "Mom, how did you know that? I mentioned him once to you and you somehow remember his name? You can't even remember your own dentist - and you've seen her every six months for the past ten years."
My mom isn't known for having a very good memory. The only way she remembers to buy me a birthday present is if she writes it on her calendar. After the gift is bought, she will promptly forget that it is supposed to be a surprise and she will show me what she found. I'm the only person I know that receives her birthday gift around two weeks before her actually birthday.
"That's not true," she claims. "I remember Dr. Quack just fine. She's one of the nicest people I've ever met."
"Her name's Dr. Cammack, Mom."
"Oh. Well, I remembered the important things about her. And I was close, wasn't I?"
"Close enough."
"We're getting off track, baby. Answer my question. Is it the same boy?"
"Yes," I confess with a sigh.
"And you two were doing homework?"
"That's right."
"Why? Is there a group project you have to work on together?"
"Not exactly," I draw out hesitantly.
"Then why was he there?"
"He...helps me in math sometimes."
"Helps you? You've never needed help with your homework before."
My eyes clamp shut in a wince. Why does Mom have to be so perceptive all of the sudden?
"I discovered that I work better with a partner. He's been helping me bring up my Trigonometry grades."
"And Charlie knows about this?"
"Yeah."
After a short break, she says, "How often does this boy come by?"
"Uh... Every week day?" I anxiously reply as though it is a question.
Mom immediately bursts out into giggles. "Bella!" she gasps between fits of laughter. "Now I know you're not telling me everything!"
"What do you mean?" I mutter while biting down on my lip.
"Honey, I may be old but I was a teenager once too. And from what I remember, the only way you can get away with having a boy at your house that often is if you tell your parents that you're only 'studying' with him. I 'studied' a lot back then - even during the summer months when school was out," she finishes in a belly laugh.
This causes me let out a muted groan. I'm not a big fan of hearing about her love life. She tends to over share. I have to pointedly remind her that I am her daughter and shouldn't even know about her former boyfriend's habit of crying in the midst of their love making. And after what Eric and Tyler put me through today, this additional embarrassment is almost too much to bear. My only consolation is that she didn't go into the details of her high school conquests. Especially the one with - shudder - my father.
"But I'm telling you the truth," I assert over her laughter. "All we do is work on our homework. And then he goes back home."
Her giggles slack off gradually until she regains control of herself. "OK. I'll believe you only on one condition - you have to come clean with me. What's going on that you haven't told me?"
It ordinarily goes against my self-made religion to share my troubles with others. I prefer to suffer in silence and hide all of my problems from prying eyes. But I'm desperate right now. And it would take too long for Dear Abby to answer my anonymous letter. Mom is my only hope.
The finger being strangled by the phone cord is now so tight that it stings. "What if I don't know what's going on either?" I ask in a pitifully weak voice.
"Well, you can tell me what you do know and we'll figure it out together," replies Mom cheerfully.
"And you won't share this with Dad?" Having Mom know about this is all I can handle at the moment.
"I won't, baby. I promise."
I let out a slow breath to appease my nerves before I speak. "Edward and I are friends. And up until this afternoon, I knew that was all there was to it on his end. But now... I'm not so sure."
"Why? What happened?"
"Because-"
I immediately cut myself off, realizing that I nearly forgot something very important to my future well-being. "Mom, what I am about to tell you is super embarrassing and you have to swear to me that after this conversation, you will never bring it up again."
"Ooh! This must be really good then!"
"Mom!" I hiss into the phone.
"Fine! I swear I won't ever mention it to you after today. Now, spill!"
After taking a glance around to ensure that Charlie hasn't sneaked into the room undetected, I decide to treat this as I would if I were to pull off a Bandaid - namely, to get this painful story over with as quickly as possible.
I take a large gulp of air and say everything in one breath.
"I had two boys today almost ask me to a dance but they wouldn't listen to me when I tried to tell them 'no' so Edward intervened and said I already had plans for that day and then put his hand on my back and dismissed them by saying, 'Excuse me. We really need to get going now.' And now I don't know what to think."
With my story complete, I'm gasping for fresh oxygen and feeling a little dizzy. I have to pull a chair over and collapse onto its seat.
"You had two boys ask you out at once?" Mom questions, almost sounding impressed.
"Technically they never got that far. They were too busy arguing back and forth to get around to the asking part," I reveal dryly.
"So what are you confused about?"
"Everything. Those boys were acting really weird. They seemed fine yesterday. Then overnight they changed. It's like they turned into different people! Who argues over who gets to ask a girl to a dance first? It's crazy!"
"Bella, honey. Don't get frustrated. This is normal behavior for kids your age. The boys are just going through a bit of Spring Fever."
My mouth turns down into a frown. "What now?"
"Haven't you heard of this before? As much as you read I thought you already knew about this," she mumbles ruminatively. "Anyway, every spring when the temperature starts to rise, the boys' testosterone levels rise too. They get the urge to look for girls to date, and sometimes they all want the same one. So they'll fuss, fight, and flex their muscles to impress the girl and try to make the other boys back off. It's really just too adorable for words."
I arch my brow dubiously. "Mom, today's high in Forks was forty-nine degrees and we were blanketed with clouds. It definitely doesn't feel like spring here."
"That doesn't matter. Look on your calendar. It's March. To them, that's spring."
"OK. Maybe you're right. But what about Edward? Even he changed. He's always nice to me, but it's been a friendly kind of nice. But today it changed to a...different kind of nice. He smiled and - uhh - winked at me a lot more than usual. Almost like he was..." I trail my story off here, unable to say the words I want to say out loud.
Mom may not know how to cook. She may not be able to remember to get her car's oil changed as often as it should. But she knows a thing or two about this subject. She has no problem furnishing the words that I can't say.
"Flirting with you?"
"Um-hmm."
"You like him, don't you?"
It's a bit more than like at this point, but I go with it for the sake of simplicity. "Yes."
"So what's the problem?"
"The problem is I don't know what's going on with him now. He said some things earlier today that made me think that he - umm - likes me too. But then he went back to being just his nice, normal self. For two hours he sat across the kitchen table from me and never even hinted at what he said to me earlier. It was as if it had never happened! So now I don't know what to think," I finish in a huff of exasperation.
"Hmm. You know what it sounds like to me? I watched a movie the other night on Lifetime about a man who does that very same thing to the thirty-something year old widow who lived next door. I really wish you could have seen it! It was so good! That dead husband of hers was the biggest jerk to ever walk the earth but she was too naïve to see it. Every weekend while she was caring for their children, he was off fooling around with that skanky secretary of his. I swear, I've never wanted to slap someone so much in my life! Then, while the jerk and his tramp were driving to some seedy motel, his car went off the road and flew off a cliff.
"I can't say I felt sorry for him, but I was worried about how his wife Cynthia would take it. And just as I thought, she was devastated by his death and when she was told of the months of cheating on his part. But to tell you the truth, I don't know what she saw in him in the first place. He was the snootiest little snot rag she could have found! Can you believe that he wouldn't touch fast food because he thought it was beneath him? Isn't that just plain nuts? Just the other day I saw a picture of Matt Damon eating at Jack In The Box. And if that's good enough for Matt, then I'd say it should be good enough for a lying scumbag too, ya know? And don't even get me started on that woman he was cheating with! She-"
"Mom," I interrupt with a small moan. "I think you're getting off topic."
"Oops! I'm sorry, baby. So, since the wife had suffered so much by that no-good husband of hers, she was afraid of being hurt again. So, she rejected every single man that tried to get too close to her in order to protect herself. Years later, a new neighbor moved in next door to her. I can't think of his name in real life, but it's that guy that used to play Superman. But, anyway, by the end of the movie, that Superman guy was living in her house and building pillow forts with her kids. They had such a cute happily ever after."
Mom ends her summary with a delighted sigh. There's nothing in this world that makes this woman happier than lame made-for-TV movies.
"Mom? What do cheating husband's and the guy from Superman have to do with me?"
"Didn't I tell you how he gained her trust?"
"No."
"Oh... I must have forgotten that part," she mutters absentmindedly. "The Superman guy used a different tactic than those other bozos that were going after her. He kept things friendly and took things slow so she wouldn't be scared off. Eventually, she grew to trust him and opened up her heart. So maybe this Edward is doing something similar. He's just going slow right now."
I can't believe my mom just gave me advice that she dug up from a B movie. And I also can't believe that her advice is actually helpful. The Lifetime network must have improved their scripts since I last watched their channel.
"I guess that is possible," I admit.
"Oh, good! Then I did help you. Now let me ask you a question. What does he look like? Is he cute?"
"He's...nice looking."
"Is that all I get? Honey! I'm on the other side of the country from you and can't see him for myself. Can't you give me some details?"
I'm not comfortable enough to share the specifics of his appearance. If I were to confess that he looks like literally god's gift to womankind, she might pick up on my unhealthy obsession sooner.
"Uh, he's tall. Well...not too tall, but just... kind of tall. He has - umm - good eyes? So, no glasses for him. He - uh - has nice hair. And, err...yeah. That's about it."
Nothing but her breathing comes from the phone's speaker for five seconds.
"I want a picture," she demands.
My eyes roll to the ceiling. "No."
"Why not? Since you can't give me a sense of what he looks like, you can at least send me his picture."
"I don't have one to send."
"That's all right. I'll send some money, you can buy a camera, and then take a few pictures of him. It doesn't have to be fancy. A decent head and body shot will do. Send me a couple and you can keep the rest."
"Don't you think he would find it weird that I want to take pictures of him?"
"No, because you can tell him that I asked you to do it."
"That makes it a thousand per cent weirder, Mom."
"Then I want to meet him. Soon."
"Why would you want to meet him already? I don't even know if there's anything to what I told you. Maybe he's like that around everyone and I just never noticed before."
"Bella, boys don't usually go to a girl's house to do their homework almost every day unless there is a reason. Is he failing one of his subjects or getting paid to tutor you?"
"No."
"Then, trust me, he likes you." She pauses, then says, "When I was a couple of years younger than you are now, I met a boy named Fernando that reminds me a little of your Edward. Fernando was so cute and sweet to me. His only fault was that he was shy. He would barely talk. But once I got him alone, he showed me how well he could control his tongue - if you know what I mean. He was talented for a boy of his age but- Oh, honey, I'm sorry but I have to go! Phil's taking me out to dinner and dancing! He's saying that if we don't leave in the next fifteen minutes, we'll be late for our reservation."
I've never felt more grateful to my stepfather for interrupting her awkward reminiscing.
"OK. Tell Phil said 'hi'."
"I will. I love you."
"I love you, too."
"Bye, baby," she says into the phone. Then, right before she hangs up, I hear her yell, "Phil! You'll never guess what happened! Bella has a crush and has all sorts of boys interested-"
When I hear the click of her hanging up, I stare at the phone in my hand and frown. I asked her not to tell Charlie, and I think she will honor that. But I forgot to think of Phil, her friends, the minor league baseball players' wives, hotel staff, and random strangers she meets on the street.
At least Forks is too far away from Florida for that gossip to ever reach us.
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During the night, I have a nice break from my anxiety and confusion. The Edward that stars in my dreams is straightforward. Dream Edward lets me know exactly what is on his mind. He pulls me close and whispers sweet words into my ear that I would give anything to remember. That's the downside to having him only available during sleeping hours - I can never recall the details.
When morning dawns, I take it easy as I drive to school. My truck prefers going thirty mph or less anyway. However, the main reason I'm in no hurry is because I'm scared of what today has in store for me. Scared out of my mind, actually. Will Eric and Tyler do something else to humiliate me? Has everyone heard about what they did? And which Edward will I see today? Will he say more things to mess with my mind? Or, will he be back to his old self?
Despite the fact that there isn't much time left before school is set to start, there are plenty of parking spaces available. That's the nice thing about this school - there are almost more parking spaces than enrolled students. So, I direct my sights on the spot by the medium-sized oak tree located near the front.
I'm almost there when I catch sight of Edward sitting on the hood of his car, absorbedly observing me.
If the Volvo company knew of his existence, they would probably pay him to just lean against their automobiles. No doubt he would help sell thousands. His long, lean legs are spread out in front of him, one crossed on top of the other. And, heaven help me, he's wearing an unbuttoned long-sleeved shirt over a t-shirt that's almost snug enough to cut off his circulation.
Help. Somebody bring me a defibrillator. This is an emergency.
I can barely pull into my parking space without ramming into the Ford Focus next to me. All of my books, folders, and notebooks slide off the passenger seat and onto the floor. How could Edward be so careless? Doesn't he know by now that he is a distraction? The boy looks like he's doing a Hunks Of The Olympic Peninsula Calendar shoot. I'm sure this isn't the first time that some girl almost crashed because she was too busy leering at him.
Once the truck's engine is shut off, I push open the door and grab my school things from where they fell. After I lay my hand on the last notebook, I hear the crunch of gravel behind me. I know the sound of footsteps when I hear it.
I whip around to find Edward standing a couple of paces away. I examine his face briefly, hoping to see something there that will tell me which personality I will be interacting with this morning. Since his isn't winking or anything, I'm guessing this is Normal Edward.
"Hey, um, Edward. What's up?"
"Just coming to wish you a good morning," he replies agreeably.
"Oh," I utter softly. Never has he come to say good morning to me before - unless you count the day Tyler almost mowed us down. And I don't. Edward only came over to me back then because I was slipping and sliding all around on the icy concrete. I looked so ridiculous. He probably thought I had banana peels attached to my feet.
My mouth lifts into a smile, warmed by the fact he wanted to talk to me. "Well, thanks."
"You're welcome. Sleep well?"
My cheeks instantly heat up. Memories from only a few hours ago come forefront. Great. Now all I can think about is if Real Edward is as talented a kisser as his Dream version.
I have it hard enough trying to concentrate...
I swivel my body around to hide my blush from him on the pretense of needing to shut my truck's door. "Fine," I blurt out.
Once I rotate back around and get the nerve to meet his gaze again, he bows his head graciously. "That's good."
I cough nervously and strain my brain to find something to remove the spotlight from me. I soon decide to keep it simple by asking him the same question. "And you?"
Edward's lips curve up a little at their corners, his eyes giving off a new shine. "It was pleasant."
My head moves up and down while I try to interpret what that odd reaction means. As with nearly everything when it comes to him, it is just another mystery to add to my growing list.
Suddenly recalling that classes will soon begin, my feet move towards the school. Edward keeps pace beside me. Neither one of us say a word. There's a strange atmosphere that I can't shake off. My nerves feel like they're being shocked with volts of electricity. It isn't until we're at the halfway mark do I realize why I am on edge.
Every soul currently within gawking distance is staring at Edward and me.
They don't even try to hide it. In decent society, you peek at the people you're whispering about so they won't know what you are up to. But that's not how it works in Forks. Staring open-mouthed at whomever you are gossiping about is common practice. A sophomore boy has his jaw dangling open so wide that he'll probably need to go to the E.R. in order to get it reattached. I see a group of senior girls giggling back and forth, their eyes trained on us as we walk by. Even the emo kid that told me when I first moved here that he hates the lack of privacy in this small town is over there by the bike rack, unashamedly monitoring us and chatting to his equally emo friend.
I try to tell myself that this is only a nightmare. I am asleep and Dream Edward will do something to save us. Like maybe casting a dazzling smile that will blind everyone in the vicinity so that we can escape. He's good at that.
"Edward?" I say in a low voice while my eyes frantically dart around.
"Yes?"
"Everybody is staring at us."
He slows down and leisurely scans the area. Crowds of loitering kids stare right back at him. "They are, aren't they?" he says in a much too peaceful lilt.
Well, I guess that proves it. This isn't a dream and this isn't Dream Edward. This is really happening. And all I have to combat the hordes of nosy teens is a Smart-ass Edward that doesn't seem to care that we're being talked about.
With wide-eyes, I stop in my tracks and block his path. "I told you this would happen! Now what are we going to do?"
His thumb and forefinger go to rub his jaw while his eyes squint musingly down at me. After a few beats of deep thought, he offers up a response. "Go to class?"
I stare back at him with an unsmiling face, irritated that he can joke around at a time like this. "Ha. Ha," I reply sarcastically.
I take another glimpse at our audience, noting that no one has moved a muscle. It's as if they don't care that school is about to begin. They're too invested in watching an ordinary girl and a gorgeous boy walk around than to worry about anything else.
And that's another thing that troubles me. What are they saying? Has word of my lack of dating experience gotten out and they're making fun of me? Is everyone comparing me to him? Are those girls over there laughing because they think I'm too plain to be near someone this good looking?
I let out a large puff of air, already exhausted by the perceived scrutiny. And I still have an entire school day to get through before I can get out of here.
My face lifts up until I meet his eyes. "I mean it, Edward. I hate being the center of attention."
He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly. "Just ignore them."
I laugh a little at that advice as we head to class. "That's easy for you to say. I'm not sure that I can be as indifferent to all this staring as you can."
I guess if you're a guy like him, being stared at is an everyday occurrence and no big whoop. But for me, that's not going to work. People only stare at me if there is something wrong - like maybe I have a three foot long trail of toilet paper stuck to my shoe. Or, if I accidentally tucked my shirt into my panties and now everyone knows that I own a pair that features teddy bears cuddling with little hearts. I've had quite a few traumatizing bathroom experiences.
"At least you're not alone in this. I'll be scrutinized just as much as you today," he reminds me.
With my English class within sight, I stop walking and whirl around in order to look him in the eye. "Exactly! Everyone will be asking us questions."
"Perhaps. Though, it really doesn't matter because they will just assume whatever they want to think anyway."
"I know. That's why I think we should decide now on how we should go about handling this."
His bronze head cocks to the side. Soon, he slowly nods in agreement. "You have a point. So in that frame of mind, may I make a suggestion?"
Oh thank the heavens. He has a suggestion that could save us. Maybe this is Dream Edward after all...
"Sure."
"I think that you and I should sit with my family today at lunch."
I blink back at him, wondering what could make him believe that doing something as simple as trading lunch tables could possibly help us. How is sitting with the Cullens going to resolve our problems? The only people that are stared at more than Edward or me is his family. They're so beautiful that they could be mistaken for angels on earth. It's almost impossible not to want to give them a look or two.
"Why?" I ask with brewing suspicion.
"Multiple reasons," he explains breezily. "First of all, my family doesn't care about petty gossip, so you would be able to relax and eat in peace. Then, there's my sister. She was begging me just this morning to convince you to sit with us today. And, she can be quite annoying when she doesn't get her way."
I hug my things closer to my chest. My fingers drum against my English textbook as another thought occurs to me. "That's only two reasons."
One bronzed brow cocks up. "Oh? Well, I was saving the best for last. Since we seem to be the focus of everyone's interest, and since I'll be sitting wherever you choose to be anyway, I think we may as well give them what they want."
My fidgeting fingers come to a screeching halt and my eyes zero in on him, struck by how he can so casually toss out something like that. But I force myself to not assume anything.
"And what would that be?" I ask as calmly as possible.
An uneven smile graces his lips. "A good show. Just imagine what they will say if they see the two of us sitting with my family. There will be speculations galore. I'm anxious to see what they can come up with."
"I'm not sure if that's a good reason, Edward. That will just lead to more questions. What am I supposed to say when they ask me what's going on?"
"You can tell them the truth."
My body tenses and I squeeze my books until they dig into my chest. "The truth?" I echo uncertainly.
This is dangerous ground for me to tread. His truth and mine may be a tad bit different. The truth for me is that I wouldn't mind experiencing a little of Dream Edward during daylight hours. His truth may be that he has become attached to me because I'm like the mousy kid sister he never had growing up that he loves to tease.
I chance a look up at him. He may not be the Edward I visit in my dreams, but he is a relatively understanding person. Whenever I have asked him a question, he has always given me an answer. And considering everything he has said in the last twenty-four hours that has rocked my world, I deserve a chance to get some decent answers about this too.
My lungs inhale the chilled morning air and I hold it in for a few seconds, gathering the mental strength to do what I should have done yesterday.
"And what if I'm not sure what the truth really is?"
His head pivots to its side a couple of degrees. Dark brows pull together and his eyes briefly flick down to the sidewalk. "I thought that I made my intentions clear to you yesterday," he replies in a contemplative, silky-smooth timbre.
My heart begins pumping so roughly that I think I can hear it in my ears as well as feel it pulsing through my veins. I never realized how seductive the word intentions could be.
Edward refocuses on my face, his eyes projecting their vulnerability. "It's simple. The truth can be whatever you want it to be, Bella. It's entirely up to you how you want it to play out."
By force of habit whenever I am faced with a decision, I pull my bottom lip under my teeth. I guess Mom's theory about him wasn't too far off the mark after all. If what I am hearing isn't a figment of my overactive imagination, he is saying that he is leaving it up to me. We can remain friends. Or, we can be more.
I want more.
"Are you sure your family won't mind?" I question nervously while I remove a strand of windblown hair from my face.
He answers with an easy-going smile. "Absolutely. They will be thrilled. Well...except for maybe Rosalie. But, don't worry about her too much. She's just naturally unwelcoming."
I glance around and notice that most of the kids have disappeared from the sidewalks. The school bell must be about to ring.
"OK. See you later then." I turn and take a few steps towards my first period class. However, once I reach its door, another thought strikes thanks to what I see waiting inside for me. There is a roomful of teenage faces - most of them staring at me.
Highly alarmed, I glance back over my shoulder and breathe a sigh of relief. I see that Edward hasn't left yet, so I return to the spot I just vacated. "You didn't tell me what you are going to say when people start asking you questions," I remind him in a voice low enough that only he can hear.
Another beaming, cocky smile creeps back onto his face. "I'm going to tell them that it's none of their business."
It's official. I love this boy.
"That's the best idea you've had so far," I smile back.
With the bell set to ring at any moment, he bids me a goodbye and jogs off to his U.S. Government class. I hold my head high, direct my sights on my own class, and walk inside as confidently as I can. I've heard it said that dangerous, wild animals can sense fear and will attack if they sense weakness. And since around 70% of the students in my English class are currently eyeing me like hungry hyenas on the African savannah, that nifty bit of trivia sure is coming in handy.
I make it to my desk without being interrogated. It's more difficult to tune out the gossip and the sound of my name being whispered aloud from across the room, but I think I'm taking their intense scrutiny better than expected. I'm too busy reliving what Edward just said to pay them much mind.
Mike sits to my left with his nose buried deep in our English textbook, appearing to read the foreword as though it is the most intriguing thing he has ever read. I expect for him to say "hi" or tell me about something that happened at Newton's Olympic Outfitters, but he doesn't utter a peep.
It's unusual for him to ignore me. Either he is still sore at me for not taking him up on his offer to go to the school dance, or he has heard the rumor about Edward and me and he's pissed off. Maybe it's a little of both.
Surprisingly, no one bothers me in the minute or so before class begins either. After the bell sounds, Mr. Mason takes control of his students and all eyes stay glued on him for the next hour. It isn't until the end of class when I'm walking to second period does anyone attempt to corner me. A brave representative from the marching band joins me and asks how I can make out with Edward without getting a neck cramp since he is so much taller than I am. I kind of wish that I could tell her that I've invested in a neck brace for that eventuality. But I don't. Instead, I give her a fake smile and say that I can't comment on anything right now.
When third period Trig comes around, I'm more jittery. Jessica will be there. Well, she will be unless her parents pulled her out of school and sent her off to see a shrink due to her unstable mood swings from yesterday. But this juicy morsel of gossip might be just what she needs to bring her out of that dark place. And extracting interesting and scandalous information so that she may spread it around for everyone to enjoy is her specialty.
When I come upon the math building, I give a cautious peek into the room. A few students are staring at me but Jessica is off by herself. She sits in her chair, busily writing in her cotton-candy pink notebook. I take a seat beside her and watch for signs of mental disturbance or bouncing curiosity. I see neither.
She must have heard me moving around because her curly head pops up nanoseconds later. A normal looking grin spreads across her face. "Hi, Bella! You're never gonna guess what happened to me yesterday afternoon!"
My mouth opens to question her, but she immediately launches into an answer before I can utter a single syllable.
"When I was leaving my last class of the day, Mike found me and said that he wants to take me to the girls' choice dance!"
With a growing smile, I say, "That's great."
She giggles and scoots her chair closer to me. "I know, right?" Grabbing her notebook, she thrusts it into the air and begins giving me a play-by-play of how she wants that magical night to unfold. According to her rudimentary drawings, it involves Mike arriving in a white limo, gifting her a few dozen roses, and slow dancing the whole night. And he will end their perfect first date by proclaiming to the entire school how much he loves her.
I momentarily close my eyes during her chattering and count my blessings. Mike asked her out and now Jessica is back to her old, delusional self again. And on top of that, she hasn't said a word about Edward and me yet. I can barely believe it. She must not have heard the rumors. She's in her own little world right now and I am safe. For now.
Maybe my luck is finally changing for the better.
With Jessica excitedly talking to me before and after our two shared classes, no one dares to approach me. It gradually dawns upon me that they likely assume that the Queen Of Gossip is working her extracting magic on me. Little do they know that Jess is too busy describing how she and Mike will one day have the statistical 2.5 kids and own both a winter and summer house along with their primary residence.
When it's nearly time for us to go to lunch, I'm unsure of what to do. Edward invited me to sit with the Cullens, but I don't know how to go about doing it. Do I just plop down with them and say "hey, what's up, guys?" like I belong there with them?
And what do I do about Jessica? I've always sat with her in the cafeteria. How do I explain that I won't be sitting with her today without causing her to ask a million follow-up questions? It's harder for me to picture myself telling a friend to mind her own business.
As we are about to shuffle out of fourth period, I've settled on a promising strategy. I won't tell her about Edward inviting me to sit with them. I can pretend that I fully intend to follow her to our regular table. However, once I buy my food and begin crossing the lunchroom, I'll fake an ankle sprain near the Cullen table. Edward's rescuing instincts will be activated and he'll come over to pull me up from the floor. I'll tell Jessica that my poor, injured foot can't take the long trek to our distant table. Hopefully, Edward will pick up on my ruse and insist that I should sit with him and his family since his table is closer.
But, as she and I step out of the classroom, my plan crumbles in front of my eyes. Edward is waiting for me. He rests his back against the school building, only a few steps away.
Jessica notices him right after I do. "Hey, Edward!" she squeaks. "Whatcha doing standing there for?"
He pushes off the wall and strolls over. "Just waiting for Bella," he answers with a head bow in my direction
Like a hound that has picked up a tantalizing scent, she snaps her head around so that she can study me. "Why?"
While he looks as tranquil as a warm summer's breeze, I try not to panic. There's still a chance that I can give her an answer that will assuage her curiosity without revealing anything personal. I'm not ready to tell her what Edward and I are up to yet. Especially when I have no idea what we're doing anyway.
"I'm not going to be sitting with you guys today," I confess to her.
Jessica's lips jut out into a childish pout. "How come? I was going to ask your advice on what type of dress I should buy for the dance." Approximately two microseconds later, all signs of her disappointment vanishes as she bounces on the tips of her toes. "Ooh! I forgot to tell Edward! Guess what? Mike and I are going to the spring dance together!"
Edward drums up a tiny smile for her benefit. "Congratulations. I'm sure you two will have a nice time."
Her brown eyes crinkle at the corners due to her wide smile. She's probably pleased to have a new person to shower with the details of her impending date. "I know, right? It's going to be sooo much fun! I was thinking that he should wear a tie that would match my dress, too. That would be really cute. And- "
She suddenly stops yakking and turns back to me. Her eyes are squinting in the same way she does whenever Mr. Varner assigns a tough math worksheet for us to complete before the end of the hour and she doesn't have a clue of what to do. "If you're not sitting with us today, then where will you be?"
I guess it's too early to fake that sprained ankle. I have no choice but to tell her the truth. She'll see for herself where I'll be sitting soon anyway.
My dry throat constricts when I feel the weight of her quizzical stare. I try swallowing to lubricate my mouth but it doesn't help.
"I'll be with the Cupggns," I mumble without looking at her directly.
Turns out that I can't say their name very well right now. I wonder what sort of psychiatric disorder is rearing its ugly head this time?
"Huh?"
I glance between her face and Edward's. She appears more puzzled than ever. Edward just looks like he's watching an intriguing stage adaptation being played out.
"I'm sitting with the Culkhgns."
"What?" she asks with creased forehead.
I expel a lungful of air and force myself to get it out so that I can get away that much sooner. "I said I'll be sitting with the Cullens, OK?"
"The Cullens?" she repeats, bug-eyed.
Edward enters the conversation and says in a serene tone, "Yes. Bella and I will be with my family today."
Jessica's eyelids form into paper thin slits. She glances at me, then Edward, and finally back to me. "How come?"
I open my mouth to tell her that since Edward has given his family such a glowing review of my awesome English tutoring skills, we are now in negotiations to have me include them too. I figure that will be a decent cover story.
But then Edward has to go and blow it.
He slips a hand into his pocket and says as candidly as can be, "Because they want to get to know her better."
Jessica's mouth flops open as wide as a snake attempting to swallow a hippopotamus. "Get to know her better?"
I try to catch his attention by covertly shaking my head, praying he'd get the message not to reveal anything else to tantalize her. But he doesn't notice and keeps right on going.
"Mmm hmm. They are quite fond of her already, but they have been pleading with me to spend more time with her."
"More time? As in, Bella has spent time with them before?"
He moves his head up and down in response to her question.
Well, isn't he just a wealth of information today? What happened to that quiet guy who prefers to keep everything private?
One of Jessica's brows arches as high as it can go and she examines our faces. "That's really interesting. I didn't know that she has gotten so cozy with you and your family."
Before he can blurt out anything else, I jump back into the fray. "Well, they are very friendly..." I drift off, licking my dry as a bone lips.
Her head cocks to its side and she analyses our faces thoroughly. A few moments later, I see her lips rise in a smirk. "Yeah... Friendly," she emphasizes significantly.
Edward takes a pointed peek at me. "And they will be wondering what's keeping us if we don't hurry along soon."
With her eyes still monitoring us, her smile becomes more musing. "Sure. You two go on ahead."
Feeling like a prisoner that just busted out of the slammer, I swivel around and start to move towards the cafeteria.
Well, that wasn't an ideal situation to be in. Now she knows something is going on. But it could have been worse. She could have demanded to know more before she let us go.
"Oh. And Bella?"
My lungs almost collapse from the sound of that voice. I reluctantly turn to face her, dreading to hear whatever it is that she wants now.
"I'll be calling you tonight," she finishes with a hard, meaningful stare.
I acknowledge her with a nod and then zoom away as fast as my unreliable legs can carry me. But honestly, walking and running have never been my strong points. Edward is by my side in almost the blink of an eye.
While we head to lunch, I take stock of the situation we now face. Jessica may not be the brightest at reading or writing, but she is a master at getting people to talk. She utilizes several devious techniques to get the information she craves. She will start off by giving her intended target a false sense of security. Their conversation will initially be focused on chit chatting about others. She will then tell them an interesting piece of gossip, hoping that he or she will want to top hers by revealing an even better secret. If that doesn't work, she will throw out compliments and/or flirt to soften them up before flooding them with questions. If all else fails, she whines to get what she wants. Her voice takes on the equivalent of having bamboo skewers shoved under your fingernails. Soon, her victim has no choice but to tell her everything.
And she is calling me tonight. I am so screwed.
"Jessica will be grilling me like an investigative reporter now," I mumble aloud, my mouth in a sullen frown.
"She must not be a very good reporter. How could she not know about all the rumors that have been swirling around about us?"
My head jerks around to look at Edward. He moves with long, easy strides that hint of unwavering self-assurance. And his face isn't frowning like mine is currently doing. You could almost say that he appears calm and carefree. How is that even possible? Does he not understand what he did? He just unleashed a beast upon me all because he couldn't keep his mouth shut in front of her. And here he is making light of it all.
I level an unmistakable scowl in his direction. "You're lucky that I like you so much because - otherwise - I really wouldn't like you right now," I grumble ominously.
He grins a slow, sexy smile. "Then I must be extraordinarily lucky then," he stresses with a gleam in his eyes.
My traitorous face flushes hot pink, obliterating my annoyance. It's hard to stay mad when faced with that much charm.
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A/N-
Next Chapter- Bella dines with the Cullens (those poor things, lol!). And it's blood typing day in Biology class.
Thanks for reading! :-)