The next morning I awoke to eerie quiet. No wind through the eaves, no drops on the roof; all was still, as if waiting. I got out of bed quicker than usual. I had made up my mind the night before. It didn't matter if Edward and I couldn't be in the same social circles. We had Biology together, and that was already more than I had before. I was going to do the more mature thing and be grateful for what I had. I could have less. Okay, so maybe I was holding on to the hope that he might actually find me interesting, as weird as that was, but what if he was telling the truth? I mean, weirder things had happened, right?

I was shrugging into my coat as I stepped outside and as soon as my foot touched the sidewalk, I was skating into the patch of grass between the walk and the driveway. I managed to fall mostly on my coat and not completely drench myself in the process. I got shakily to my feet and looked back. The sidewalk was layered in a fine film of salt and slushy ice. I looked out at the road and realized that the slush and the rain from the previous day had frozen over in the night. I hadn't realized it was that cold, since I hadn't been here long enough to really distinguish between the intensities of freezing to death.

I used one of my sleeves to brush the damp off of the front of my coat before I shrugged deeper into it, then carefully walked the distance to my truck, keeping my eyes zeroed in on the ground just in front of and under my feet. As soon as I was in, I drove at about two thirds of the usual pace I took to school, which meant I arrived at about the same time as everyone else.

As soon as I parked, I saw a student skate on one heel across a patch of ice, which looked really impressive, standing on one leg and all, until he lost his balance and went down. He seemed to think it was hilarious along with everyone else. I was considering just driving to the hospital now and saving myself the embarrassment. Sucking it up, I got out of my truck.

I was walking around the truck when something gleaming at my tire caught my attention. I thought for a moment that I had run over a bit of chain-link fence, but it was too perfect to be anything but purposeful. I had chains on my tire, all my tires. My driving had been slow, but thinking about it, I didn't have any trouble at all getting to school, driving on icy roads for the first time. It didn't make any sense. How…?

I wasn't sure what registered first, the squealing tires or the black mass I saw out of the corner of my eye. I turned, and everything seemed to slow down. Tyler was driving a black van, going way too fast. He looked as though he were trying to stop, to turn the wheel, to do something, anything, but he had lost control. He was looking right at me, and he looked utterly terrified. It was only then that I caught how the van was sliding and realized that it was heading right for me.

There was nothing I could do. Even if I had more warning and the ground wasn't slick with ice, I doubted there was much I could have done. I very much doubted that I could survive this large vehicle bearing down on me. Three simple words entered my brain; this is it.

I had no idea what came over me or how I knew, but I turned and, almost as though I had known exactly where to look, found the pair of dark eyes I wanted. He was looking at me, an expression of disbelief quickly being soaked through with horror. I wasn't afraid. That surprised me. The only thing I felt was regret. Sure I didn't want to die, but in the moment, what I wanted most, what I would mind losing the most, was not being able to in that chair for Biology. But holding on to that woe was going to soil my last few moments on this earth. I let go. I closed my eyes. I lo-

Something was there. Cool hands were upon me, on my shoulders. I remembered them, but couldn't recall from where. I was lifted carefully off the ground, into the air, but there was something about the grip that gave me the impression that this was the least amount of force necessary and that if the owner of those hands had chosen, I could have been flung with far greater force if he had willed it. I lost track of the world around me, my vision filled with sky, then trees as I turned through the air. And then I was in the bed of my truck. I landed with barely any impact and just had enough time to look up.

Edward was standing next to my truck, right where I had been. He was looking down at me, as though concerned. His eyes intent on me, he didn't see what I was seeing. The school was completely blocked from view, by the oncoming van.

"Edward!" I found myself screaming, horror-stricken. And I watched as the van smashed squarely sidelong into my truck, bouncing off, jarring the whole thing and me along with it. And with Edward irrevocably between them.

He disappeared from view, and as soon as the truck settled, I climbed warily out. He was lying between the two vehicles, and I expected to see him in a puddle of his own blood, mangle or his body at unnatural angles. Instead, he was simply lying there, almost peacefully.

"Edward," I said shakily. I knelt beside him, and until that moment, he didn't seem to be in pain at all. But as I leaned towards him, he hissed as though he were being stitched.

"Don't get to close," he whispered.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice tremulous.

"I am fine," he said quietly, his voice strangely authoritative. "I just fainted. Anemic."

He relaxed, his breath sliding out of him, "Don't get… too close…."

I was positively frantic, but I did as he said.

That is when they got to us.

There was much screaming and a teacher came to lead me back from Edward, whoever it was, they didn't have much of a choice but to lift me and carry me back.

"Is he okay?" I asked as they got me clear. "Is he okay?!"

"He's breathing," said Coach Clapp. "He has a pulse. Shallow but it's there."

I quit caring. He was okay. He was okay? I saw him. Before the van hit and everything shook violently; he was right there, right where the van hit. It was impossible.

"Are you alright?" someone asked, and I got the impression it wasn't the first time.

"I'm fine," I said. "How is he?"

"He look pretty banged up," said a teacher, one I didn't have a class with. "He has a pretty big cut on his face. He is lucky he didn't kill anyone."

It took me a moment to realize they weren't talking about Edward. I slipped the teacher's grasp and came back to sit beside him. I stayed towards his feet, but still could have reached out to touch his foot if I really wanted to, to reassure myself that he was still here. It made me feel better.

"What happened?" some vice principal type asked at my shoulder, and from the lack of response, I gathered he was talking to me.

"I was by my truck when the van came at me," I said. "Edward was there and he pushed me into my truck bed. I am not sure what happened to him but when I got to him, he was still conscious. He said he fainted and then he was out again."

"He has a rare form of anemia," said Mr. Banner, who I hadn't realized was kneeling by Edward's shoulder. "All the Cullen kids do. That is part of the reason why the Doc adopted them."

Two ambulances pulled up then and while one loaded Tyler, the other loaded Edward into it. As they did, I climbed inside after him.

"Where are you going?" the EMT asked me.

"To the hospital," I said. Thinking quickly, I added, "I think I hit my head."

He looked at me like he was pretty sure I was lying then his eyebrows went up.

"You're Isabella, right?" he asked.

"Bella," I sighed.

He nodded. Apparently, the risk of taking the Police Chief's daughter to the hospital when she didn't need it outweighed the risk of not taking her when she might.

"Sit tight," he said, pointing to a spot to sit.

I did. I was barely aware of us moving, or them hanging a unit of blood and hooking up an I.V. I did notice when there was suddenly a familiar police cruiser behind us, and I was even more aware when Edward started moving.

"Are you okay?" he asked, just loud enough for us to hear. His eyes were still closed.

"I'm fine," I said again, then with a look from the EMT, I backtracked, "I mean, I might have… hit my head."

He snorted.

"I see," he said. "I am glad. Glad you are alright."

"Can I have you open your eyes for me, Ed?" asked the EMT.

"I would really rather have my father examine me, Bill," he said.

"I need to make sure-," he began.

"I fainted," said Edward. "Nothing about that is life threatening. I have no head injury, but you are welcome to probe my skull if you don't believe me. If anything life threatening presents itself, you have my full permission to take whatever steps you need to in order to save my life. Otherwise, I will wait for my father."

The EMT met the eyes of the driver in the rearview mirror. She shrugged and nodded.

"Okay," he said. The EMT moved over to me.

"Do you really have a head injury?" he asked.

"I might," I said weakly. "It all happened so fast."

He checked me over, quickly as we began finishing our approach.

"You seem just fine to me," he said, "You can check yourself into the E.R. if you want. I will put you down as a passenger in the log. No more free rides, though, understand?"

"Believe me," I said with a half snort, "the next time I am in one of these, it will be by necessity."

"I hope not," he said, disconcerted.

The ambulance pulled up to the small local hospital that seemed to be more than half maternity. I was two steps out of the back when Charlie appeared out of nowhere.

"What happened?" he nearly demanded, and I was pulled this way and that as he roughly looked me over.

"I've fine!" I said for the fortieth time before he stopped inspecting me dispassionately and finally looked at my face.

"I am fine," I said once more. "Edward got me out of the way in time. He fainted, and they are just taking me in to make sure I didn't have a head injury."

"She's probably fine, Chief," the EMT said. "She doesn't have any signs of trauma. Do you still want the doc to check her out?"

Charlie said "Yes" at the same time I said "No!", and though my comment was louder, I wasn't a police chief, so I stomped rather huffily into the ER.

Edward was brought in quickly and put into a bed beside mine, and by mine, I mean the one that Charlie made me sit on until the doctor came to see me. Tyler was there too, stable and with a large amount of gauze taped to his face, he kept muttering something and trying to talk to us, but he was far enough away and injured enough that what came out of his mouth was pretty unintelligible.

My eyes never left Edward. He lay very still, his eyes closed, and every time I considered saying something, he sighed and resettled himself, and I felt compelled into silence again. So focused on him was I that I didn't noticed the doctor's arrival until he was close enough to touch me.

"Hello, Ms. Swan," he said congenially. "How are we feeling today?"

I looked at him. He was intensely handsome, with straight blonde hair that was swept perfectly back and forest green eyes that almost uniform in color. He gave me a welcoming smile, and I was somehow immediately at ease in a way I usually wasn't around doctors. Granted, I was usually in a lot more pain when I was this close to one and about to be in more.

"I'm fine," I said. "I wasn't hurt at all. Can I go?"

"A moment," he said, inspecting my head briefly, "May I?"

I tilted my head forward in consent, and his gentle fingers ran through my hair and felt for any bumps or tender areas.

"How is your neck?" he asked. "Your back? Any pinching or pain or numbness?"

"Nope," I said. "I might have a bruise on one hip, but I have had worse."

He found the area with a careful thumb. He covertly step between me and the room at large and lifted the smallest corner of my shirt to see the bruise.

"As you say," he said, place the cloth down again, "it is not much of a concern. Use some ice when you get home if it begins to swell. Other than that, you are free to go."

I looked over to see my dad filling out paperwork at the front desk. I turned back and the doctor was gone. I was confused, until I saw that the curtain had been drawn around Edward. I thought I heard a muffled squeak, a bit like a shoe scuffing on linoleum tile. But, considering that was what the floor was made of and that there were people walking on it, that didn't really surprise me. In less time than it took to inspect me, the doctor opened the curtains and was walking out, putting the stethoscope back around his neck.

I was about to move to talk to Edward when I saw that he was up, looking as though he need a hospital less than I did. I stepped forward and he gave me a hard look. I stopped just short of our mutual grasps, so that if he and I both reached, we wouldn't have brushed fingertips.

"You're okay?" I asked.

"Of course," he said. "I told you I was."

"But…" I said, having trouble not dropping my eyes to his lower torso, to look out for any sign of the fact that I had just seen him sandwiched between a truck and a van.

"But what?" he asked, almost demanded.

I looked around. No one was nearby. I stepped to one side, moving further away from everyone else without getting closer to him. When I found his eyes again, he had that intent look on his face again, but this time, it was tinged with confusion, concern, and dismay.

"You were hit," I whispered, so low I wasn't sure he heard me. After a long pause, he said, "What makes you say that?"

"Because I saw it," I said.

He took a deep breath.

"Do I look like someone who was hit by a car to you?" he asked, his words hard.

"No," I said.

"Then you must be mistaken," he said, his words focused, every syllable sharp and pronounced.

I was cowed, but it only lasted a moment.

"It's not possible," I said.

"You're right," he said, just as hard, "it's not."

"No," I said. "You were across the parking lot. You were across the parking lot, and then you were there. You would have had to have been moving faster than the van. And you lifted me into the back of the truck, but you could have thrown me over the van just as easily. And… and…"

I could see it clearly. He was standing there, next to the truck, his attention completely upon me. He had just lifted me out of the way of the van. He had to know that it was coming. And yet, that didn't matter. His entire focus had been on me, a look of concern for me, my safety. Which meant, either he knew that he wouldn't be hurt by a van hitting him, or that he….

"You knew," I stated as fact. "You knew that it wouldn't hurt you."

His expression flared, reminding me of the first time he looked at me, but not so extreme.

"Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now?" he said. "Maybe I should have my father in here again to order a KAT scan."

"I didn't hit my head," I said.

"That's what people will assume if you go telling everyone your insane, inane theory," he said, waving a hand that could have been me spouting out about this or the people dismissing my words.

I felt the shock and blood flood my face.

"I wasn't going to tell anyone," I said, hating how small and quiet and hurt my voice sounded. Did he really think that I would betray him like that, that I would just…

He looked even more angry, "Then what is the point? Why are you trying to get some story out of me, blowing this up into something unbelievable, if not to tell it?"

"I want to-" I started, then tried again, "I wanted to know."

There was no way I was going to keep going and add the "you" to the end of that sentence.

"You already know the only course of events that anyone will believe," he said. "I pushed you out of the way, and I fainted."

There was an edge to his voice. He sounded as though he didn't like that story any better than I did.

"You did," I said, my voice softening, "push me. You saved me."

This only seemed to irritate him further.

"You shouldn't believe that I am some great hero," he said. "It isn't as though I…"

His voice trailed off, his expression leaving his face as the words fell away. But then, the stone look came back.

"What were you even thinking?" he all but spat at me. "A large vehicle was careening at you and all you could do was stare? Have you no brains at all? Any concept of self preservation? Since you have come here, your presence has been nothing but a torment to me! Why don't you just go home!?"

I swallowed. I wasn't sure what my face was doing, but it seemed to convince Edward to not continue.

"I didn't-" I began, but my voice was too shaky for me to continue. I stopped, and started over after a deep breath. By that time, the ache his words had inspired had morphed itself into a smoldering anger.

"You're a jerk," I said harshly.

He flinched, unsure.

"Grow up," I said, and walked away before he saw the angry tears.

Charlie didn't ask why I looked upset as he drove me back to the school. I had an ironclad excuse he already knew. When we got there, the wrecker had arrived for Tyler's van.

"How bad is it?" Charlie asked as we go out, surveying the scene he hadn't seen yet.

"Front axle is broke," said the wrecker's driver. "Engine is off it's mount and in pretty bad shape. Frame's bent pretty good. It's totaled for sure. I'm taken her down to salvage."

"He's lucky to still have a license," Charlie grumbled.

"Dad," I said in true teenage exasperation, I walked over to look at my truck.

"She's fine," the driver said, taking us in. "Her back fender has a dent, the rusted paint is a bit more chipped, but other than that, she doesn't seem to be any worse for wear. Pretty lucky. I could give you a good price on repairs."

I looked to Charlie, who was looking to me. Right; my truck.

"I can come by later for an estimate," I said.

He chuckled, "Certainly, but keep in mind that if you aren't interested, you are going to have to drive to Seattle for another deal."

I nodded. Honestly, I was perfectly alright with leaving it as it was, but I didn't want to be rude, unlike some jerks.

Once the wrecker was out of the way, Charlie looked me over again for what felt like the six hundredth time.

"Are you going in?" he asked.

I looked at the school. It looked half empty. I guess it was all too much excitement for anyone to want to go to class. I thought of what sort of reception I would have, being back after all that, and with less students around to take the focus off me.

"Not unless you make me," I said, walking towards the truck.

"You aren't driving that home," Charlie said.

I whipped around, "I am fine. The truck is fine. There is no reason I can't drive it. I will see you at home!"

I didn't mean the words to come out quite so harsh, but I had had a rotten day and this wasn't helping. I was in the truck before Charlie could say another word. I drove home at about fifteen miles an hour, with the cruiser behind me the whole way, the hazards blinking the entire time. I figured that this was the best concession I could hope for.

Once I was out of the truck and Charlie was walking in with me, I apologized.

"I'm sorry," I said demurely. "This morning has been rough, and I wasn't in a mood to be told what I could and couldn't do."

Charlie nodded.

"I get that," he said, stepping down as though to tie his shoe. But instead, he started taking the chains off my tires.

"And I am not entirely used to having you be back yet," he said as he took them off, a tire at a time, "let alone back and dodging out of control vans. I will try to lighten up too, but I would appreciate it if you looked after yourself so I don't have to worry."

He had done it. He had put the chains on my tires. After what had happened, I understood why. He was taking care of me. He was doing the best he could to take care of me, and I was screaming at him. Great, now I was the jerk.

"I will," I said, trying not to sound too placating. "I promise."

So, naturally, as I turned towards the house, her said the one thing that could take away all the good dad points he had just banked with me.

"Call your mother," he said before I could get to the door.

I froze before turning slowly back to him.

"Dad," I said, my words faltering, "you- didn't!"

"No, I didn't," he said, and I let out a breath of relief. All I needed was to calm down my hysterical mother. Charlie had been trying enough, and she made him look practically indifferent.

"But you know your mother," he added as he passed me to unlock the house and walk inside.

He was right. Again. Dang it. Mom couldn't remember her email password half the time, but I wouldn't be surprised if she found out how to get a digital copy of the school newspaper sent to her. She was quirky like that.

I walked inside, picked up the phone and carried it to my room, and with a deep breath, dialed.

"Hello?" came Mom's voice.

"Hi mom," I said.

"Bella?" I could already hear the tremor in her voice. "What's wrong? Why aren't you in school? Oh god, what happened?!"

"Mom, Mom!" I finally cut it. "Breath Mom. Sit down. Are you sitting?!"

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Mother," I said, affecting calm. "I will tell you what happened, but you will breath and you will sit calmly by while I do or I won't say a word."

She huffed and I could almost hear her foot bobbing over her crossed leg as she sat there.

I recounted the entire thing, except I left out all the bits about Edward getting smashed. However, I didn't have to say a thing about our fight afterward for her to pluck it out of the air.

"So what aren't you telling me about this guy?" she asked. I was in shock. But, then again, she was my mother.

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"You can't hide a thing from me, honey," she said. "Something about this is bothering you, something you think is unfair. It is hard to tell over the phone. Did you have a fight?"

I shook my head, "Someday you are going to have to tell me how you do that…"

"Secret mom stuff," she said. "It would help if you were a better liar. Good that you're not, but still."

"He…" I tried to say, then caved.

"He's a jerk," I said.

"Language," my mother said sarcastically. "What did he do?"

"It doesn't matter," I said.

"I doubt that very much," said Mom. "What did he say?"

"Something about me being a torment ever since I got here," I said.

"Oh," she said. "I see."

"Uh," I said. "See what?"

"Nothing," said Mom quickly. "Tell me, how much has he talked to you?"

"He hasn't, really," I said. "He left school the day I got here and just got back yesterday."

"Did he talk to you on the first day?" she asked.

"No," I said, "why?"

"So," she said, "he has only spoken to you the one day? Well, two, I guess now."

"Yeah," I said, and tried again, "why?"

"What was he doing the first time you saw him?" she asked.

I was starting to get irritated, "Writing in a notebook. What is going on?"

"Alone?" she asked.

"Yes!" I said loudly. "Mother!"

She was quiet a long moment.

"What did you do when you fought?" she asked.

This part I didn't mind telling her, "Called him a jerk and told him to grow up."

She laughed, "Perfect! Just perfect!"

"What is?!" I demanded.

"Here is what you do," she said. "Pay attention."

"Okay," I said.

"No, not to me," she said, her voice high before dropping to a more serious tone as she continued. "To him. Be subtle about it. Wait until you think he wouldn't have any reason to look at you, then check to see if he is."

"Why?" I asked. "Then what?"

"Oh no," Mom said. "You're on your own."

"Mother!" I almost screeched.

"This is something you have to figure out on your own," she said. "Life is like that sometimes. I can't just give you the answers or you won't learn anything."

"You are infuriating sometimes," I said through gritted teeth.

"I love you too," she said pleasantly and hung up.

I spent the rest of the day reading ahead in all my books, trying to do anything to keep my mind off of what had happened and from wondering what tomorrow would be like. I didn't say a word to my father all through dinner, though he stared at me the entire time. By the time I was in bed, I couldn't make up my mind whether I wanted to stay or go home to Phoenix.