Chapter 16- Fit Boy + Faint Girl
March 3, 2005
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Considering the roller coaster ride of emotions that I've been through in the last twenty-four hours, sitting at a new lunch table shouldn't make me apprehensive. But, nevertheless, I am.
In all the weeks I have gone to school here, I have never seen anyone from outside of their family sit with the Cullens. Edward's adopted siblings don't interact very much with outsiders. From what I've been told, it is by their choice that they don't have any friends. But in all honesty, the Cullens' intimidating beauty keeps most of the students from wanting to do much more than admire them from afar. And if someone does get the nerve up to try to break into their clique, Rosalie will give them the frostiest death-glare imaginable until the unfortunate soul scurries off in the opposite direction.
I hope Edward didn't just assume that all of them will accept me at their table. I'm not sure if I can handle Rosalie's wrath if he is wrong.
As Edward and I go through the lunch line, I pick items at random and drop them on my tray. I'm barely paying attention to what I am doing. There's too much zipping through my mind to worry over what flavor of pudding I want today. Although I admit that this inattention may prove to be an unwise move if I accidentally choose the mystery meat special. Hopefully, Edward will notice and stop me if I chose something that dangerous to my health.
I pay for my food and wait for him off to the side. Once he has paid as well, he joins me. "Are you ready?" he asks with raised eyebrows.
No. I am not. But I'm too stubborn (and embarrassed) to confess that I'm afraid that his sister will expel me from their table like a bouncer throwing out a rowdy drunkard from a bar. So, instead I give a small nod and follow his lead.
While I travel across the cafeteria, my eyes promptly lock onto their table, unable to look away. The Cullens really are beautiful. They may be as pale as calla lilies but that doesn't take away from their attractiveness. Each face is striking in its own way. Their clothes are chic, well-tailored, and flatters their varying physiques. It's hard to believe that people this aesthetically appealing can even exist outside of fairytales.
As we draw nearer, my tray shakes a little in my hands. Emmett and Rosalie are talking back and forth, but their golden-yellow eyes watch our progress intently. Her flawlessly sculpted eyebrows are pinched together, giving her a disgruntled appearance. I do take some small comfort when I spot Alice wearing a sweet smile. Every other second, her head snaps to her right and she excitedly says something to Jasper. He doesn't appear to utter a word. He limits his communication to a head nod here and there.
Once we make it to the table, Edward drags out the empty chair from beside Jasper and offers it to me. I take a guarded peek at the blonde-haired boy. I see the tiniest of smiles on his otherwise expressionless face, yet it somehow feels like so much more. A peaceful sensation flows into me, eradicating a large chunk of my anxiety. My hands stop their trembling. My teeth no longer feel the need to chew upon my bottom lip. I can even give a small but genuine smile in return. I've never had my worries disappear so quickly before. I guess Jasper's subdued friendliness was just what I needed in order to feel a little more welcome at the Cullen table.
I place my lunch tray down and begin to take a seat. Moments later, my chair magically moves closer to the table. As soon as my butt hits the seat, my head whips around to find that Edward is the culprit. Taking in consideration of his door opening OCD, I should have known that he would be the type of guy that likes to push in chairs for women, too. Frankly, I'm surprised this behavior did not manifest sooner.
He takes a seat on my other side and flashes a reassuring smile my way before glancing at his siblings. "Well, I suppose you all remember Bella?" he says as an introduction.
"Hi, Bella!" chirps Alice immediately thereafter. Alice's button nose, pointy chin, and large, smiling eyes make her look like a full-fledged fairy. She sits on the other side of Jasper and appears unable to remain still for longer than a couple of seconds at a time. Her petite body keeps bouncing in her chair, reminding me of a hyperactive child who just drank a whole can of Red Bull.
Meanwhile, the whispered words between Rosalie and Emmett wane and they focus their full attention on me.
No matter how many times I see her, the unparalleled beauty Rosalie possesses comes as something of a shock. Her long, golden-blonde hair tumbles down her back and elegantly frames her perfect face. But unlike the welcoming feeling Alice and Jasper gave me, I don't sense the same from Rosalie. She peers back in a clinical way, her amber irises moving up and down my face as she studies me. Her lipstick-red lips are tight and unsmiling. She isn't glaring, but it doesn't appear that she's very happy that I am here.
As for Emmett, I see the corners of his mouth slanted up into a faint smile. His warm, child-like eyes don't feel chilly like his girlfriend's. If Rosalie is the Fair Princess in this fairytale, Emmett is the Gentle Giant. It's almost hard for me to believe that I had ever once feared him.
"How's it going?" he says like an old friend.
"I'm fine. And you?" I smile.
His smile vanishes and he glances at his tray of roast chicken. A sigh slips from his lips when he meets my gaze once again. "I've been better, but I guess I'll survive."
I grasp my fork and finally take notice of what I bought for lunch today. Enchiladas. Potato salad. Celery sticks. Applesauce. It's a strange combination, I admit. But at least it's edible.
Two seats away, I notice Alice's golden eyes constantly darting over to me as I eat. It doesn't take long before she is impatiently tapping Jasper's shoulder with her finger. "I'm sorry, Jazz, but you need to switch seats with me," she requests in a voice that sounds as pleasant as a music box.
Jasper takes a quick peek my way and his smile grows larger. "But I'm comfortable here," he says playfully.
The beaming grin she wore moments ago vanishes without a trace. Her bright eyes narrow at her boyfriend, giving her a surprisingly menacing aura. Something akin to fear crosses his face once he catches sight of her expression. Almost before I can even blink, he's up and out of his chair. It's kind of funny to see a guy whose size and antisocial reputation intimidates a large portion of the school appears frightened of a girl not much taller than the table we're sitting at.
With her smile returning, Alice leisurely rises and moves to sit next to me while Jasper takes possession of her old chair. Alice pivots her body to face me and releases a contented breath. "I'm so glad you decided to sit with us today Bella. I just know that we'll get along great!"
Another smile takes over my face. It's almost too easy to like Alice. She seems to have a perpetually upbeat and eager personality that has a habit of rubbing off on you. How someone as friendly as she is with me can remain aloof from a majority of the student population is a mystery.
"Thank you," I reply. "I think so, too."
Alice's grin stretches wide, evidently pleased by what I said. But then, inexplicably, something changes about her. The smile on her elven face slips until her pale lips part open. Her eyes glaze over and stares off into the far distance, seemingly no longer aware that I am even here.
A forkful of enchilada pauses at my mouth. I am too concerned by her abrupt change in behavior to go on eating. Does she have a severe case of Attention Deficit Disorder? Did something catch her eye and that's why she stopped paying attention to me?
My head swivels in the direction she is currently staring, expecting to see something that could explain her sudden change in interest. All I see at first is a boring white concrete block wall. Although, as my eyes continue to wander, I do notice a table full of freshmen girls whispering and peeking at us. My eyes flick away from them and land on a second table of students. I am alarmed to see that they are looking this way as well. The same goes for the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth tables I examine.
Turns out that while I was busy concentrating on Edward's family, every single person in the cafeteria has been monitoring our every move.
My eyes widen as panic sets in. Everywhere I look I discover someone else closely observing the Cullen table. I thought it was bad this morning in the parking lot when Edward and I were walking together. But being watched by a couple of dozen students is nothing compared to being spied upon by hundreds. I can feel every eye drilling relentlessly into me, each one appearing to take this unexpected development in a different way. The most popular reaction is a mixture of surprise and confusion, though the ones that disturb me the most are the looks of downright hostility.
With hundreds of people all focused on us, my breathing accelerates. Even the teachers can't help but marvel at the sight of me hanging out at the Cullen table. Tyler and his friends are all gaping open-mouthed like zombies. Lauren sits nearby and has teamed up with her cronies to scowl at me with ice-cold eyes. Across the room, Eric and his Math Club team are alternating between watching our table and scribbling furiously into their notepads. They're probably calculating the odds of it being the new girl that's the one who finally got to sit with the Cullens. If I wasn't currently on the verge of having an anxiety attack, I might would go over and ask what figure they came up with.
"It will be all right, Bella," a soothing voice croons into my ear. I slowly turn away from our crowd of onlookers and find Edward's face. Soft green eyes gaze into mine. "They are just a little curious right now. I'm sure that this will be old news by tomorrow," he reassures me.
"Yep," a feminine voice chirps. My head whirls around until I find Alice watching the two of us. No longer is she staring dazedly off into the distance. With an oddly cheerful smile, she adds, "There will lots more for them to talk about tomorrow."
Edward's bronzed brow cocks up as he regards his adopted sister. He studies her for a few beats, shakes his head with a sigh, and then reluctantly resumes eating.
I suck in a breath and slowly release it in hopes that it will help to calm me down. I try to take comfort in what he said. It will be all right. It's just a few hundred people watching us. They can't really do anything other than talk and stare. Eventually something else will interest them and they won't care anymore about what Edward and I may be doing. I hope.
But just watching Edward helps me the most in calming down. Seeing him eating his sandwich as though it's perfectly normal to have the entire school looking on makes me determined to do the same. If he can ignore them, I can too. I push everything from my mind except the people at this table and shove in a bite of celery stick. By degrees, the unsettling feeling of being watched fades into the background. Being surrounded by a table full of people who are more attractive than supermodels is a great distraction.
Right after I start digging into my food, the others at the table do the same - although occasionally, I get a good glimpse of them and wonder who on earth taught them how to eat. While Edward may consume his lunch with table manners that even Miss Manners can approve of, he still eats somewhat quickly. His BLT sandwich disappears in a matter of a couple of minutes. Yet it's the opposite with the rest of the Cullens. Alice, Rosalie, and Jasper take dainty little bites. I swear I saw exactly one pea on Jasper's fork when he placed it inside of his mouth. Then, on top of that, they each chew their food for a long time. Does it really take thirty chews before it's safe to swallow two drops of vanilla pudding? Evidently, Rosalie thinks so.
But I think the person with the strangest eating habits is Emmett. He's staring down at his tray with his mouth turned down. The fork he holds is dwarfed by his baseball mitt sized hand. I watch as he pokes his fork in and out of the lettuce and tomatoes of his side salad. He cuts his chicken into almost microscopic pieces and moves it around his tray. He stirs his melting ice cream in a circular pattern with his spoon. But I never see him eat one iota of food. Shouldn't he be hungry? I know I am - and I'm only a third of his size.
While I am puzzling over this strange phenomena, Edward swipes up his napkin and neatly rubs it across his lips. "Still feeling nauseous, Emmett?" he asks sympathetically.
Emmett's face pops up from its former position of frowning down at the table. When their eyes meet, his lips rise into a slow smile. "Yeah! Everything still tastes awful. I don't think I should eat any more right now."
With a loud clank, Rosalie's fork falls from her manicured fingers and lands on her lunch tray. Her focus locks onto Emmett and one golden eyebrow arches up into almost a point. "If you're too sick to eat, then I guess I should keep away from you for a few days. I certainly don't want to become ill from being too close to you."
Emmett's eyes bulge for a split second. Then, without another word, he snatches up his fork and begins scarfing down his salad - almost without even bothering to chew.
Like I said, this family has the weirdest eating habits...
After a brief lull of silence, Alice delicately sets down her eating utensil and clears her throat. "So, Bella... Have you gotten used to Forks yet?"
I take my time in chewing my food before I answer her. This question may be a trap. If she's anything like a majority of this small town's population, they will be offended if you tell them that Forks is a place that no one in their right mind could ever truly "get used to". I think I can survive it here, but I'll never love it as devotedly as some. So, I decide to keep my answer simple yet still truthful.
"Yes and no. Dealing with the constant cold and rain has been kind of challenging. It's hard to get used to."
Alice's head tilts off to the side thoughtfully. "That's right. You're from the desert, aren't you? I bet that most of your wardrobe is warm weather oriented, right?"
My mouth develops a weak smile as I think back on weeks of nothing but gorgeous azure skies and balmy air. It never stays cold for long in Phoenix. In Forks the only times the temperature rises above fifty degrees during the winter is when Edward throws me a wink.
"Yeah. Before I moved here, I only needed a couple of sweaters and a light jacket. I left most of the warm weather stuff behind."
Alice leans in closer as though what I just said is actually interesting. "Really? How many sweaters do you have now?"
"I don't know," I answer with a one shoulder shrug. "My mom and I bought a few things before I left Phoenix, and that's the last time I really paid any attention to my clothes."
Her face briefly flinches, making her nose look like she is doing an impression of a bunny rabbit. "What are they made of? Wool? Cashmere? Cotton? Poly-blend?" she quickly rattles off.
I take a quick peek at Edward and see him watching our interaction with a tight, twisted mouth. My shoulders shrug again once I turn back her way. "I really don't know. I only think about them when it's time to do the laundry." And I barely think about them even then. I've shrunk quite a few sweaters through the years due to me not checking the labels before washing.
I hear Alice inhale a quiet gasp. "You can at least tell me what colors they come in, right?" she asks with widening eyes.
My forehead scrunches up while I try to think. "It's kind of hard to remember them all. Umm... I know there's a white one. And a grey one. And I think a green one-"
"What shade?" she interrupts with her finger held up in the air.
I nervously draw my bottom lip under my teeth. To me there are only three shades of green. Light green. Dark green. And Edward green. I don't keep up with the rest.
I'm beginning to see that Alice takes clothes a lot more seriously than I do.
"I-I'm not sure."
She huffs out a sigh and slowly shakes her head. "That's too bad. It's important to keep track of your color palette. I do an inventory once a month to make sure I have at least one new outfit of every shade that looks best on me. Just last week when I was sorting through my closet I noticed that I only had one-"
Edward butts into her story and deadpans, "I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Alice, but no one at this table cares to know how many purple polka dotted sweaters you have in your closet."
Her chin juts defiantly into the air. "How dare you say such a thing to me. I would never wear purple polka dots. They make you look like you just caught some communicable disease."
My hand covers my mouth when I laugh. Suddenly, I'm happy that I took Edward up on his offer to sit at this table today. Once you get over the fact that hundreds of people are spying on you, it's really kind of nice here. Edward is much more relaxed. And listening to him fuss with Alice is just too entertaining to pass up.
Alice's alabaster-white face lights up when our eyes meet once more. One tiny finger begins musingly tapping against her chin. "Now, about your closet. I think we should start by sorting through it as soon as possible. You're so lucky that it's almost spring! Just think of the colors you can wear! I bet you'll look fantastic in pastels. We could start by finding a rose pink blouse with ivory trimming to accent your skin tone. Then, if we can find you a-"
Her mouth moves but my brain wants to shut down in order to save itself. This is what happens when people talk about clothes and fashion in front of me. That's probably one reason why I didn't have any close friends in Phoenix. I had a reputation for disappearing whenever the topic of discussion veered to such things as which cute crop top someone should buy or which store had the best cut-off jean shorts.
Although I don't care about clothes very much, I understand than Alice does. I can overlook the boring aspects of what she wants to chat about in order to not offend her. But, why is she talking as if she is making it her life's mission to clothe me as well?
"Then, we can find you a skirt to show off those legs of yours!" she goes on, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm thinking a cream color will go great with that blouse I told you about. I guess we could go with white but that's up to you. Now for formal wear, I saw a dress that would be per-fect for you. What are your thoughts on spaghetti-straps, Bella? I know they're not for everyone, but-"
Jasper's large, white hand appears on Alice's shoulder and she immediately stops talking. He looks at her with patient eyes and says, "How about we let Bella get used to you first before you go jumping into her closet just yet. I think you may be scaring her a little."
Hallelujah, Jasper.
Thanks to his intervention, I relax into my seat and try to resume eating my enchilada. Maybe she'll become distracted by the navy-blue polo shirt he has on and ask him what it's made of.
At the same time, Alice's lips pucker out into a small frown. "But if we don't strategize now, how will we possibly be ready for our shopping trip?"
Those worrying words hit and stun me all at once. That bite of enchilada didn't even reach my mouth before I'm worrying over what she said. "Shopping trip?"
Her expression turns joyful and her lips lift into a beaming smile. "That's right!" she breathes out excitedly. "You don't know yet! I've seen it all! Two hours at Macy's. Three at Nordstrom's. One at Saks. And at least thirty minutes at this little boutique in Seattle cause they sometimes have really unique designs by rising designers."
Emmett let's loose a chuckle that creases his cheeks. "I hope you don't mind living at the mall for a few days, Bella. Alice makes shopping trips look more like a safari expedition."
My face winces a little. I rank clothes shopping just under hiking in things that I would rather not do. And if you combine shopping with hiking around a mall, that's practically torture in my book. I don't want to hurt her feelings, but I would rather scrub my bathroom floor with a toothbrush than spend untold hours shopping for clothes that I don't need.
"Umm. Actually," I begin hesitantly. "I don't really like to shop for clothes. I usually just run in a store, grab a couple of things, then pay and leave."
As soon as the words come out of my mouth, Alice's smile collapses and a look of absolute shock takes control. She no longer speaks, moves her body, or even blinks as she stares at me. I always thought the Cullens looked like statues come to life. And it now appears that she has reverted back to being a regular, unmoving statue.
A laugh on par with a sonic boom explodes from Emmett as he points at her. "Look! Bella broke Alice!"
With an expression of genuine concern, Jasper begins waving his hand in front of her eyes. "Alice? Are you OK? Speak to me, please," he begs.
When she doesn't respond, he grasps her slim shoulders and shakes until she comes back to life. Her eyes are the first to move. Then, she pulls Jasper closer by tugging at his sleeve.
"Jazz?" she asks in a quivering tone.
"Yes?"
She takes in an audible gulp of air before she goes on. "Tell me that I just imagined that."
Rosalie and Emmett each resume eating their food as though it is a completely normal occurrence for Alice to go off on the deep end every now and then. But not Edward. He's too busy frowning to eat just yet.
"I'm sorry, but I can't do that," replies Jasper.
Alice's eyes snap shut temporarily and her head rocks back and forth. "But I can still see it and everything! I don't understand!"
Interrupting the meltdown, Edward suddenly starts chuckling at her. "Of course you can imagine seeing yourself on a shopping spree. That's all you ever dream about."
Alice's formally distressed face finds Edward's and her expression goes back to normal. Her rigid shoulders relax and Jasper releases his grip on her. Without making eye contact with anyone, she fidgets in her chair a few times and stares down at her lunch tray.
Both Edward and Jasper pick their forks back up and start eating as though everything is OK again. I do the same by taking a few bites of potato salad. I'm pretty good at pretending that someone didn't just have a nervous breakdown, too.
"Bella?" a tiny voice chimes a minute or so later.
I swallow the food in my mouth and find Alice sheepishly looking up at me. "Yes?" I answer in a steady voice.
"How often do you shop?"
My lips purse out as I give her my rough estimation. "A couple of times a year, maybe?"
"But you wouldn't mind shopping more if you had a friend to go with you, right? One that could help you pick out the right things? One that could carry all your shopping bags?"
My head whirls around to Edward. I was hoping I'd see a smile and hear him say something like, "Gotcha, Bella! Alice is a professional prankster and loves making people think she has a serious shopping disorder. Isn't it hilarious?" But all I see when I look at him is a growing scowl that is being directed at her.
"Uhh..." I utter helplessly.
"All you would need to do is show up!" she pleads with a desperate look in her eyes. "I could find you a nice chair to sit in and you could relax. I would do all the work for you!"
Without warning, her eyes glaze over and stare off into space again. But unlike what happened earlier, this episode lasts for only a few seconds. It doesn't take long before she meets Edward's grumpy glare and her eyes grow huge in their sockets.
Immediately afterwards, she shifts her focus back to me. Her expression doesn't appear as frantic as before. "Never mind, Bella. It was wrong of me to push you into something you don't want to do. Please forgive me?" she says in a more natural voice.
She sounds so repentant and sorrowful that I couldn't say "no" if I wanted to. Besides, people with shopping disorders this severe need our sympathy, not scorn. So, I smile and say, "Of course I will. It's OK."
Her mouth curls into a smile like mine and she exhales a tranquil breath. I pick my fork back up and begin the task of finishing my lunch.
Thirty seconds later, I hear her fingernails drumming a beat on the table. I glance over at Edward and catch him rolling his eyes as he tries to eat.
Around a minute after that, her hand lands next to her lunch tray and jars the table. She twists around to me and says, "Can you at least tell me how many shoes you own?"
"Alice," Edward growls through his clenched, square jaw.
"Sorry!" she squeaks.
The remainder of the lunch hour is tame in comparison to the first half. Alice was quieter and never brought up clothes again. Emmett, Jasper, and Edward took turns in keeping the conversation flowing smoothly. Only Rosalie never uttered another word.
After Edward and I exit the cafeteria, we head to our lockers. He jogs off and grabs his books in less than a minute. When he strolls back, I'm still trying to pull my door open. He takes one look at my pitiful struggle, passes me his things to hold, places one hand as leverage on an accompanying locker, and yanks it open. Before relinquishing control of the locker back to me, he swings the metal door open wide to examine it. Upon seeing the areas where it often sticks, he pushes and bangs with the heel of his hand the badly dented spots until they are almost as flat as the rest of the door. The next thing I know, I'm easily opening and closing it myself. If we weren't at school being stared at by a quarter of its students right now, I would kiss him. Of course, I've never done anything like that before, but I think I'm willing to figure it out.
When he and I walk into Biology, we are met with a class full of curious stares. Except for Mike. His isn't curious as much as it is antagonistic. Mike's thick blonde brows are smashed together until it looks like a single, unbroken line. He also doesn't wander over to say hello like he normally does before this class starts.
Since we have a captive audience, Edward and I don't say too much once we cross the threshold. I try to seem unaffected by their attention. When the two boys who sit at the table in front of us turn fully around just to listen to Edward tell me that he needs to go sharpen his pencil, I don't appear overly concerned by their obvious eavesdropping attempt. My acting skills must be improving.
Mr. Banner ambles into the room just as class is set to commence. He juggles several cardboard boxes in his arms and closes the classroom door with his foot. He then wanders up to Mike and asks for his help in distributing the boxes.
When a box arrives at my table, I'm about to peek inside when the snap of rubber gloves on skin grabs my attention. My head jerks up to find that the teacher was the source of the sound.
"The Red Cross will be having a blood drive next week in Port Angeles. So I thought that everyone should know their blood type before going to donate," he explains with a smirk.
In direct response to this announcement, my face drains of color - as if my own blood is attempting to hide. I don't like the sound of where this is heading...
With his permission, Mr. Banner jabs a sterile lancet into Mike's index finger and breezily explains how it should be done. I can detect the salty scent of fresh blood before I can even see it. I'm trying to pay attention but the room is gradually beginning to spin. No one seems to notice my discomfort.
Next, Mr. Banner squeezes Mike's finger until it glistens with red. My palms begin to sweat and my face turns cold. I blink my eyes to try to clear my head but it's no use. The rotating room feels like I'm on an out of control carnival ride. Soon, I hear the hushed giggles and cries of my classmates as they too stab their fingers. My eyes slam shut. The nauseating aroma of blood swirls under my nose, increasing my lightheadedness.
One second I am sitting up and pretending that I am A-OK. The next second, I can no longer control myself and my upper body collapses like a rag doll on top of the table.
Well, at least I'm still somewhat conscious...
"Bella?"
Crap.
Half-fainting in any situation is bad. But half-fainting in the presence of the guy you are trying to impress is much worse.
With my cheek pressed down on the lab table, a hand soon comes to rest against my forehead. I reopen my eyes just enough to see two Edwards looking back at me, both of them wearing concerned frowns. Ordinarily I wouldn't complain if I saw multiple Edwards. Frankly, I think this world could use more of them. But I recognize that having double vision isn't a good sign under present circumstances. And if I stay in this room much longer, things will only get worse.
"I need to get out of here," I whisper in a weak voice.
He stares back for approximately two seconds before he throws himself into action. Through my half-lidded eyes, I watch him thrust his hand into the air and snap his fingers - just like if he were attempting to catch the attention of a passing waiter. "Bella isn't feeling well," he says.
Mr. Banner moves into my line of sight and bends down until I can see the shiny bald spot on top of his head. Or, to be more honest, I see two Mr. Banners do this. Having double vision unfortunately is not reserved exclusively to dreamy, bronze-haired boys.
"Are you OK, Bella?" the teacher asks with a pinched forehead.
You might think that seeing a girl with no blood in her face and barely having the energy to open her eyes would be answer enough. You might also think that the girl could set aside her pride for a moment and admit that she is freakishly affected by the sight and smell of fresh blood. But you would be wrong on both counts.
"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I say as a means of sidestepping the question. I've been to the doctor's office and E.R. loads of times, so I already know my blood type, body mass index, and average blood pressure. Back in Phoenix, I was on a first name basis with most of the staff at the local hospital. Oddly enough, I found that they appeared more saddened by the announcement that I was moving to Forks than the kids at my old school.
The teacher ignores my statement and asks a more direct question. "Are you feeling faint?"
I really hate to point out my frailties. But it's either I admit the truth, or I spend the next forty-five minutes passed out on my school desk.
"Yes," I confess hoarsely.
Mr. Banner straightens up until I can no longer see his face. "Can you take her to the nurse?" I hear him say off to the side.
"Of course," Edward answers.
"I can do it, Mr. Banner!" shouts Mike from a distance.
"It's already taken care of, Mike. I'm taking her," Edward explains.
"But Edward hasn't done the assignment yet. I think I should take her instead. I'm finished," Mike says from somewhere right behind me.
"I already know my blood type," Edward rebutts in a flat tone. "It's B positive. I have my blood donor card in my wallet if you need to check, Mr. Banner."
"That's fine, Edward. Go on ahead and take her to the office," directs Mr. Banner before he shuffles away to deal with other matters going on with the class.
A hand locks on to my shoulder and my body instinctively stiffens. "I really think that I should do it," Mike grumbles in a lowered tone.
I may be barely aware of my surroundings. And I may be too out of it to be able to leave this class on my own two feet. But I sure as hell know that I don't want Mike to escort me out of here. If I pass out on the way to the nurse's office, he may interpret that as me giving him permission to squeeze and fondle anything he likes.
With my eyes clamped shut, I summon the last bit of strength I have left and moan, "Edward, please get me out of here."
"Move your hand, Mike," orders Edward in a rough, almost growling voice that I have never heard him use before.
The hand digging into my shoulder releases itself. Moments later, my eyes reopen a tiny bit when I feel Edward's arm encircle my waist. He weaves one of my own arms around the back of his neck and pulls me into a standing position. I hear more giggles from the room as he helps me hobble away to the door. I'm not sure if the students are laughing at their assignment or at me. Really I'm too out of it to even care which it is right now. I can be embarrassed later when I feel better.
As soon as he opens the door and the fresh, chilly breeze hits me, I take in a large gulp to replace the stagnant air of the classroom. Edward and I take baby steps down the sidewalk. Though my vision is being affected by my lightheadedness, I don't see or hear anyone outside other than the two of us. This is a good thing since I don't want anyone else to see me like this.
Suddenly, a new wave of dizziness strikes out of nowhere and my queasiness rises. Standing up like this is only doubling my problems. If I don't do something quick, I'll be drizzling Edward's shoes in vomit.
I stop walking and pull my arm from around his neck. I need to lie down. Now. All I want is to drop down to the ground and feel the cool sidewalk against my face. Maybe that will help get me better sooner.
I try to shimmy loose from the hold he has from around my waist but he is unshakable. "Let me lie down for a minute," I mutter deliriously.
"I'm sorry, Bella, but I will not allow you to wallow around on the wet ground when you need to be seen by the nurse." He then moves me forward a small step.
In retaliation, a hint of bile rises to the bottom of my throat and burns a warning.
"I'm just a little faint. I'll be fine if I can just stay here for a little while," I counter.
Thanks to my double vision, I observe my two Edwards blinking back at me for a few beats. Next, they heave out a deep sigh with slumped shoulders. Neither version of Edward appears pleased by what I want to do.
But then, without uttering a word, he stoops down and swipes my legs out from under me. My equilibrium gets thrown off balance and my head spins in a mixture or dizziness and confusion. It takes me a couple of seconds to figure out that I am being carried in his arms.
My eyes flap open like a window shade being yanked up. "What are you doing? Put me back down," I gasp, my panic increasing. Throwing up right now would be truly disastrous.
He readjusts the way he is carrying me and makes a low grunting sound as he does so. "I can't do that. I'm helping you," he replies calmly.
"Put me down. I'll walk, OK?" I plead in almost a whine.
As a rule, Edward does just about anything I ask of him. Help me with a tough math problem? Check. Grab something for me that's out of my reach? Check. But he's irritatingly pigheaded when it comes to this. He keeps on strolling along as if toting me around like a helpless newborn is no problem.
"We're almost there," he croons. "Just put up with me a little longer."
Since he insists in carrying me, I clamp my mouth closed and pray for the ability to hold in all bodily fluids. It must work because soon he's marching up to the front desk of the office.
"She fainted in Biology," he announces to the room. I take a cautious peek to discover Ms. Cope scurrying over to a door and pushing it open for us. Edward follows right behind her. A moment later, I'm lying on my back on a tiny, lumpy cot in the nurse's office. I've never been more relieved that I made it through a hardship without decorating someone's shirt with my vomit.
A white-haired woman appears above me, peering down in pure bewilderment. Her head twists to her left and looks across the small room.
"We were blood typing today and she fainted," I hear Edward explain to her.
The woman sagely nods and her face becomes sympathetic. "I see. Well, you just lie down for a few minutes. I'll go fetch you an ice pack."
As she leaves the room, she dims the lights. My eyes gratefully open wider now that the bright fluorescent bulbs are no longer blinding me. I stare up at the tiles of the ceiling and try to relax. Now that I'm in a reclined position well away from the Bio lab, my senses slowly return and I can think clearly again. And that's when I start getting depressed.
I undoubtedly had good things happen to me today. Edward seems to want to be around me more. His family (for the most part) appears open to the concept of the two us being more than just friends. And, he fixed the locker that has driven me up the wall for well over a month.
But I had bad things happen today, too. And plenty of it. Edward and I were bugged at every step. Hundreds of bored people with nothing better to do tried to shove their noses into our business. And then I had to go and feed their insatiable need for excitement by fainting in the middle of class. In front of Edward. How he hasn't laughed at what I must have looked like is beyond me.
I stop morosely staring at the ceiling and search the room until I find Edward. I see him a few feet away, sitting in a chair and watching me closely. His handsome face is visibly stressed. My eyes gently close and I sigh at how my lousy luck and weak stomach has affected the both of us.
"The only way that today could have been any more humiliating for me is if I had passed out in the cafeteria," I say aloud.
A scraping sound against the linoleum interrupts my self-pity. A pleasing, spicy scent overruns my sense of smell. I'd recognize that particular cologne anywhere.
"It's not so bad," Edward replies.
A hand wraps around my fingers, and my eyes flutter open to admire the sight. Edward's thumb massages my knuckles, apparently with the purpose of soothing my bruised pride. It admittedly feels nice, but it does nothing to relieve my mortification.
"Really? You had to drag me out of class. That sounds pretty bad to me."
A laugh falls from his smiling lips. "I'm not a stranger to embarrassing situations, Bella. Do you not recall how we first met?"
My eyes roll at the comment he just made. I remember that incident just fine. On my first day of school, I get paired up in Biology with a green-eyed boy who (unbeknownst to me) is in the throes of a bad case of the flu. At the end of class, he is forced to escape from the room before he throws up. No one except me even realized anything was wrong with him, and I didn't get the full story until Alice informed me the next morning. That's it. End of story. He didn't make a spectacle of himself by needing to be pulled out of the room like I had to be today.
"It wasn't that bad. I was the only person that noticed you were sick," I remind him with a sulking mouth.
His head tilts until his eyes become piercing. "Ah, but that's the problem. You were the only person that mattered."
New blood surges back into my cheeks. Edward is awfully nice to look at. I've often found myself feeling woozy just by the way he sometimes gazes back at me. But I am beginning to see that his words can affect me much more. Thank heavens I'm already lying down or I may have blacked out just now.
I huff out a rough sigh and knit my brows at him. "It's not fair that you can say things like that so easily. Do you have some handbook you pluck lines from to try to impress me?"
His mouth moves musingly to the side for a second. "I don't know. Is it working?" he asks, half teasing me.
My lips spread into a smile right as the nurse reappears. A cold ice pack is placed on my forehead and her beady blue eyes examine my face. Edward slides backwards and crosses the room to stand in the corner.
"You're getting some color back into your cheeks, honey," she announces as her white brows rise up.
Yeah. Being flirted with by a boy like Edward will do that to a girl sometimes.
"I'm starting to feel better," I confirm.
I rise up on my elbows and notice that the room no longer spins when I sit up. This gives me a little hope. I continue moving until I my legs dangle from the side of the cot. As I look around the small space we are in, I notice that I am not seeing doubles of everything any longer.
I glance at the nurse and straighten my posture. "Much better. I don't feel faint anymore," I declare happily. My dizzy spells have been known to sometimes last much longer than this. I am very thankful to have gotten out of this mess without passing out completely.
An auburn head of hair twisted up into a bun appears at the opened door. "We got another one coming in, Agnes," informs Ms. Cope worriedly.
Since I'm fine now, I decide to give my cot over to someone who actually needs it. I march up to the nurse and call for her attention. "Thanks, but I don't need this anymore," I say as I hand over my ice pack.
Once it is in her possession, I look around to tell Edward that we can get out of here now. However, right as I am about to form these words, a familiar stench invades my nostrils.
Blood.
Wet, dripping, fresh blood.
My entire body twirls around towards the door. I see Mike ushering Lee Stevens into the tiny, cramped room. Lee's fingers are covered in the bright red liquid and it flows freely down his forearm. In almost no time flat, the scent smothers me until I can barely breathe.
A moment later, I am weightless and falling - unable to control my limp body.
My world fades to pitch black.
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A breeze causes one of my strands of hair to tickle the tip of my nose. My eyelids reluctantly pry themselves open. The first thing I see is a scholastic magazine being waved in my face. Evidently, this is the source of that "breeze" I feel. The next thing I spot are two glittering emeralds set into the most worried face I have ever seen.
Edward kneels in front of me, his face at eye level with mine. He pauses fanning me and reaches out with his free hand to tuck the troublesome hair away from my nose.
"What am I going to do with you?" he asks in a sigh.
I briefly look off to the side. I realize that we are no longer in the nurse's office. Edward must have taken me out of there after I fainted and set me into one of the metal chairs of the waiting area.
My pride takes another gigantic hit. Why can't I avoid these types of situations? Why am I plagued with clumsiness and fainting episodes? Why can't I be a normal person for once?
"Sorry. I can't stand the smell of blood. It always does this to me," I mumble while nibbling at my lip.
A lopsided smile transforms his face, eliminating that concerned expression. "Remind me to never cut myself in front of you, please."
A movement from behind him catches my attention. I look across the room and witness Mike walking out of the nurse's office. His hand is wrapped in a makeshift paper towel bandage, it's tip stained a rusty red. My focus next switches to his face. Based on his sour expression, I expect for him to go on ignoring me and leave the front office without uttering a thing. Instead, he surprises me when he comes right up to us.
"You don't look much better than you did in Biology," he points out, his voice sounding coarse and bitter. His scowl further increases when he briefly glances over at Edward. "How long did it take you to get to the nurse?"
My mouth pinches together. If he wants to highlight the fact that I still look like crap, that's fine by me. But for him to hint that Edward is somehow at fault for my condition is where I draw the line.
My eyes glare up at him. "Just keep your hand in your pocket. I would like to stay conscious if you don't mind."
Mike's angry eyes weaken until his mouth forms into a childish pout. At the same time, he slips his hand into the pocket of his jacket. "It's not bleeding anymore," he claims in a much less gruff tone. "So, will you still be going to the beach this weekend?"
To keep myself from rolling my eyes, I allow my lids to close. Just because I fainted today doesn't mean that I'll be bedridden on Saturday. As long as it isn't raining, I plan on going to First Beach like I promised.
"Yeah, I said that I would."
"Good. We're meeting at my parents' store at ten."
"Got it. Ten a.m."
Mike forms a tight-lipped smile and says, "OK then. See you in Gym."
My eyes pop open wide. I forgot all about Gym class. How can I be expected to survive an hour of running around when I just spent the past fifteen minutes or so weaving in and out of consciousness?
"Yeah. Gym," I mumble to Mike as means of a goodbye. He appears to accept it and struts out of the office.
My head slowly turns back to Edward. There's a tiny frown on his face that wasn't there before. He's probably wondering how I'll make it through the rest of the day too.
"I wonder if Coach Clapp will let me stay on the bench today if I show him that I look like Casper the Friendly Ghost," I say aloud.
One of his brows cocks up and he quietly observes me for a short time. His upper body soon moves in until his lips are right at my ear. "Don't worry about that. I'm taking you home."
Before I can press for an explanation, he's up and on his feet. He heads straight to the long counter that divides the waiting area from the office workers' desks and leans his elbow against it, his face staring off towards the nurse's office.
Eventually, Ms. Cope wanders back into the front office and notices Edward waiting. She walks up to the counter that separates them wearing a subdued smile. "Yes? What is it, Edward?"
"Bella has Gym next period, but she is still feeling poorly and I think she may need to go home to recuperate. Is there any way for you to excuse her?"
Ms. Cope glances over at me and a look of horror washes over her. That isn't good. I must look worse than I feel.
"Yes. Of course. Let me call up the Chief and he can come and pick her up," she says hurriedly, picking up her phone like it's an emergency.
"I'm afraid he's on duty, Ms. Cope," Edward replies with a solemn head shake. His forehead furrows contemplatively and his long fingers begin tapping on the counter.
The secretary mirrors his facial expression and gently replaces the phone into its cradle. "That's right. I forgot about that," she mutters fretfully.
The two of them remain quiet for a time, each in seemingly deep thought on what should be done with me. Or, more than likely, Edward is just acting like he's clueless as part of some elaborate plan.
Edward's drumming fingers suddenly go silent and flatten against the counter top. His mouth twists to the side and he says with seeming reluctance, "I suppose that I could drive her home since she's unable to do it herself."
Ms. Cope and Edward enter into a staring contest. She looks at him dubiously. He fights back with angel eyes.
It hits me that his strategy worked and he must have won the battle when she looks away first. She pivots around and rummages in a few drawers and cabinets. After finding what she was searching for, she takes up a pen and begins filling out her paperwork.
"I'll send out an excuse for the both of you. You get better soon, Bella," she ends softly when she glances over at me.
Edward saunters back to where I sit, now armed with a small but notably cocky smile attached to his face. Leaning down, he offers me a wink. "We're free," he announces in a low, triumphant timbre.
With great care, I rise from my metal chair and test my legs since I have fainted enough for today to last me a lifetime. I'm pleased when I take note that the room isn't spinning out from underneath me.
He opens the door (as usual) and we are met with light rain as soon as we step outside. Initially, the sight knocks my mood down a few notches. Seeing rain every day for several weeks straight doesn't help much with depression. Yet, as soon as the water hits me, I discover that it is somewhat soothing today. The cool raindrops fall gently upon my cheeks and slide down my chin, washing away my stress. It feels so nice that I tilt my face up, encouraging more to land there. It isn't long before I start to feel human again.
I lower my face once I have had enough of the rain shower. Edward stands to my right in mute observation. I smile over at him, realizing at the same time that I forgot to tell him something important.
"Thanks for that," I say as our feet begin a slow walk. "Gym wouldn't have gone very well for me today if I was dealing with clumsiness and faintness at the same time."
A bemused look in his eyes captures my attention once we reach the edge of the parking lot. He waits until we're nearly at my truck before he speaks.
"Maybe I should switch to seventh period Gym. Then I could just carry you around during the whole class so you would never fall," he replies in faux innocence.
My head angles to the side, my face expressionless as I look up into his now teasing eyes. "You're not going to let me forget that, are you?"
His mouth lifts into a small smirk. "Well... I don't know about you, but I'll certainly always think back to this day fondly."
I twist my mouth to hide my smile and shake my head at him. "You are unbelievable."
His head does a small bow in my direction. "Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment."
A few giggles bubble up from my throat. He smiles back, probably proud of himself in being able to get me to laugh after having poked fun at my expense.
I dig my keys out from the pocket of my jeans and unlock the truck. Edward stands by the opened door as I climb inside the cab. Once I'm sitting comfortably in the driver's seat, I go to crank the engine.
A large, masculine hand appears out of nowhere and covers my fingers. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't complain if Edward suddenly has the urge to hold hands. However, right now isn't the time. He's keeping me from being able to turn the key.
"What are you doing?" he questions.
I look up and realize that he's hovering over me, his face right above mine. "Going home," I answer as though it should be obvious what I am up to.
His forehead pinches together. "You can't drive in your condition. You could faint while you drive and crash."
My face screws up at him in outrage. I'm not that weak and helpless. "That's ridiculous, Edward. I'm perfectly capable of driving myself home."
But he dismisses what I said with just a head shake. "Scoot over. I'll drive you."
At first, I think he's joking. He likes to tease me about my truck - not drive it himself. Plus, it's hard to imagine him being able to operate this thing. The truck is ancient. There's no fancy features or gadgets to help you navigate. There's no air bags, air conditioning, cruise control, GPS system, seat warmers, or radio that can pick up more than three stations. His car, however, does have all of that.
And speaking of his beloved Volvo...
"What about your car?" I point out. If he drives me home in this, how will he be able to go back to his own house if he leaves his Volvo here?
He let's go of my hand and steps back. "Alice can get it for me after school. Wait here for a moment," he requests. Then he swivels around and runs off in the direction of his car.
The drizzling rain turns progressively harder, the water drops soon pummeling the hood of my truck. I watch Edward's shirt slowly getting wetter as he moves to the rear of his car. He removes a key from his pocket, crouches down, and appears to hide the key somewhere behind the car's bumper.
When I see him jogging back, I move to the passenger side to make room for him. By the time he gets inside of the truck's cab, his head is drenched. He looks like he just got out of the shower. Drops of water cascade down from his head and he dabs his face with the inside of his shirt.
My mouth openly frowns at his appearance. He's going to end up with pneumonia all because he thinks I can't drive myself home.
"You're going through a whole lot of trouble for nothing," I snap at him when he slams the door shut.
He serenely shakes his head. "I have to do this," he insists. He next takes his time in adjusting the mirrors to his liking. After starting the engine, his upper torso twists at the waist to look for cars or passing pedestrians that may be behind us. Once he has the truck backed out of the parking space, he continues with his explanation.
"I told the secretary that I would drive you home. If you were to do it, that would make me a liar. And, possibly an accessory before the fact if you were to crash into someone on the way back home. This is my civic duty."
My eyes roll but I still bark out a laugh. Edward acting like he's worried about being a liar is ludicrous. He used to lie to Jessica almost every day. But Edward making a big deal about little things isn't new. There has been lots of times when I have pricked a finger, burned a knuckle, or stubbed a toe in front of him - which caused him to consistently react as though I needed to be sent to the E.R. for overnight observation. Having him insist to chauffeur me home isn't quite as bad of an outcome as that. I guess I should be thankful.
He drives the truck well for a guy accustomed to luxury vehicles. He takes it easy, not trying to push the truck to go faster than it can go. My mind drifts as we travel down the highway towards my house. Maybe fainting in class is a small price to pay if it means that I can go home sooner. With Edward. Honestly, who cares if I just gave the school more to dissect and gossip over? Like what Edward said to me earlier, they will talk about anything - even if they have to make it up. The truth doesn't matter much to most of the students at Forks High. The only way you can combat the problem is by ignoring them until something newer and more interesting sparks their curiosity.
However, there is one downside. I have agreed to go to the beach at La Push this weekend. There will be lots of people there. Will they still be just as nosy as they were today? Will they bug me the entire time? Will they assault me with questions at every turn? Or, will they be too distracted by the scenery to pay me much mind?
My head shoots up abruptly, startled by something I should have thought about sooner. Eric told me yesterday morning everyone who had pledged to go to First Beach. But, there was one particular name that he never mentioned...
"Are you going to La Push on Saturday?" I say to Edward.
He keeps his eyes focused on the road straight ahead. "I heard some people talking about it."
"But are you going?"
"No one invited me."
My mouth presses down irritably. I really don't understand this place sometimes. Mike and Eric practically begged me to go to the reservation. Word has obviously gotten around about the day trip. So why didn't anyone think to ask Edward, too? Even if they believed that he would just turn them down, they could have at least asked him. It's a miracle that Edward is as well adjusted as he is. The way he gets pushed aside and mistreated sometimes by some of the students is sickening.
"I'm asking you," I counter while eyeing him.
The turn signal audibly blinks as he turns onto my street. He doesn't respond to my invitation until we're almost at my house.
He looks away from the road, his expression serious. "Mike won't like it."
My eyebrow arches incredulously back. "Since when have you worried about what Mike likes or dislikes?"
"Since he expressed his interest in you," he confesses, his voice softer than before.
I suck in my bottom lip and ponder at how I should respond. If before now I had ever been unsure that Edward could have feelings for me, those doubts are gone completely now.
"I don't like him in that way. He's just a friend," I assure him nervously.
Edward huffs out a sharp laugh that doesn't feel as genuine as it should. "I know. But I don't think he knows that."
I breathe out a heavy sigh. What he said is absolutely true. No matter how many times I have tried to hint to him, Mike still hasn't grasped my lack of interest. But I can't allow his ignorance or his prejudice against Edward to interfere with my life.
"Well, he'll have to deal with it then. I want you to come," I urge.
He turns into my driveway and parks the truck in its customary spot in the front yard. We sit quietly for several seconds, the peaceful silence almost feeling strange after hearing my truck's loud engine for so long.
"All right. I'll go," he answers gradually. Our eyes meet and his mouth cocks up at one corner.
The pounding rain almost hurts my exposed skin as we rush up the sidewalk and onto the front porch. I turn on the living room lamps and we move to the back of the house. When I switch on the overhead light in the kitchen, I am instantly met with the vision of a bare, wooden table and realization slowly dawns. Edward only comes to my house to study. And we have no books to study from.
"I left all my stuff in Bio," I groan up to him.
One of his shoulder shrugs relaxedly. "I'll ask Alice to grab them before she leaves school."
My head bobs up and down at his easy answer to our problem. Although I feel better, I am still unsure of what to do. Asking him to sit here in my kitchen doing nothing but stare at the ugly, canary-yellow cabinets doesn't sound like it would be something that he would enjoy. I strain my brain until I come up with something we could do.
"I'll run upstairs and get my copy of Macbeth. We could read Act three together?" I propose, my face scrunched together questioningly.
"That sounds like a good idea," he replies, nodding his still damp head.
He pulls out a chair at the table while I go up to my bedroom. I know exactly where the book sits on my bookshelf and I snatch it down. In almost record time, I'm back downstairs and attempting to seat myself at my usual chair across the table from him. But I stop when he points out that since there is only one book, maybe we should sit closer and share it. I'm not going to argue with that idea, so I drag my chair right next to him.
With my shoulder rubbing up against his upper arm, I read aloud from the first page. I've read Macbeth several times. Nothing about the tale is a surprise to me. Yet, once it is Edward's turn to read and I hear his rendition of the Elizabethan play, it feels almost like I've never truly heard the words before.
"Do you find your patience so predominant in your nature that you can let this go?" he growls as Macbeth, his voice gravelly and deep. "Are you so gospell'd to pray for this good man and for his issue, whose heavy hand hath bow'd you to the grave and beggar'd yours for ever?"
I listen rapturously and press him to keep going whenever he tries to let me read again. Like a good sport, he complies. If Edward can make a horrible guy like Macbeth sound this pleasing and desirable, just think of what it would sound like if he were to read the part of a character known for saying beautiful, romantic words.
I wonder if he would think I was weird if I were to hand him my personal copy of Romeo and Juliet and request for him to perform the balcony scene?
Although it is tempting, I stay strong and suppress my urge. If we work out, I'll ask him to read it for me some other time. He's already done enough things for me today.
He's halfway through scene three when I glance at the clock on the wall. It's close to five already. Charlie will be home for dinner soon. Then, Edward will have to leave.
And I'm not ready for that yet.
"Edward?"
His face lifts from its reading position and turns to acknowledge me. "Hmm?"
"Do you-" I falter. I snap my mouth closed for a moment, unhappy with how my request would sound. I shouldn't ask if he wants to stay here longer. He needs to understand that I want him to stay.
"Will you stay for dinner tonight?" I correct myself.
I was anxious that he might say no, but his smile puts my mind at ease.
"Yes," he says right away.
But that smile soon falls, almost transforming into a frown. "What about your father?" he adds hesitantly.
I want to roll my eyes at how worried he sounds. "You're here all the time. He should be used to you by now."
He cocks his head skeptically, his emerald eyes unsmiling and serious. "Bella. Every time he comes home, he stomps into the kitchen, scowls at me, and asks you if you are OK. The man acts as if I molest you whenever his back is turned."
I'm about to scoff and say that Charlie isn't as bad as that. He isn't one of those crazy, overprotective fathers that like to intimidate his daughter's prospective boyfriend.
However, the memory of how he reacted when he first saw Edward at our kitchen table resurfaces. Charlie pointedly hinted at the fact that he carries a gun. And all we were doing was our homework. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, Charlie does give him weird looks and asks me if I'm OK whenever Edward and I have been by ourselves. Charlie never asks me that question if I was home alone. Maybe Charlie is one of those crazy Dads after all.
So how will he respond when he finds out that Edward and I are more than just friends?
I chew the inside of my mouth and construct a plan. My dad is a simple man at heart. All he wants is a decent meal and a TV that broadcasts ESPN. If there's food in front of him, he usually tolerates even bad news favorably. And since I've made two not-so-great dinners in a row this week, he should be more appreciative if I go all out tonight. With any luck, he won't notice Edward sitting at the table until after he's gotten in a few good bites.
"I'll make one of his favorites tonight to put him in a good mood. Maybe if he smells steaks and potatoes cooking as soon as he steps through the door, he'll be more open to getting to know you," I tell Edward, loving my idea more and more.
He gives a weak smile and agrees to the plan, but I catch him frowning a bit when my back is turned. I can see that he has reservations. But really he shouldn't worry about tonight. Edward charms our teachers all of the time - even the ones that are often in a foul mood. The same can happen with Charlie. I just need for Charlie to turn off his cop mode for a few minutes and Edward can work his magic on him, too.
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A/N- Did you know that every time you read a fanfic story and don't leave a review, a writer cries? *sniff*
Next Chapter- Edward and Bella vs. Charlie at the dinner table. Bella gets an unwanted phone call. And she notices something...peculiar about Edward.
Thanks for reading! :-)