Chapter 3 - That's When I Fell For Him

I mulled over what Edward said when I got home that evening. My mind, still reeling with questions to which I could find no answers, was distracted as I prepared dinner. I was making simple tomato soup and cheese sandwiches so I wouldn't burn the house down. I couldn't think straight, even when I poured milk into the soup. His face burned itself into my mind, following me wherever I went. I stopped, my hand frozen with the cheese in my hand, and admired the picture in my head. It felt foolish to be thinking of boys when Charlie would be home soon with his appetite in tow. I shook the thoughts away and began to fry the sandwiches, struggling to forget the outstanding pain I seemed to catch in Edward's expression.

My hands slipped when I recalled Edward's voice, startling myself like a silly girl. It was clear as a bell, but he wasn't in the kitchen. But, the voice wasn't what frightened me. It was what he said.

"I'm not a good friend."

I'm not a good friend? What did that mean?

I was setting the table for the two of us when I heard the car pull into the drive, so I stopped what I was doing to greet my dad. As the Chief of Police, my dad worked late hours and often came home dead on his feet. This night however, he was livid over something as he stomped into the living room, slinging his holster and jacket rather harshly onto the coat rack. I followed him to the kitchen, making sure to keep a safe distance from him. My dad wasn't a vocal person when it came to his feelings, and seeing him to upset made me nervous.

"Uh, are you okay, Dad?" I asked as I went to grab the food. I served each of us bowls of steaming soup and set the platter of sandwiches between us.

My question brought him back to reality, and he said in a startled tone, "Another speeder. And a Volvo at that." He picked up a cheese sandwich and took a bit, visibly considering his words before he spoke again. "I caught him doing eighty in a forty zone. Such a brat . He even tried to use the stupid excuse that he was in a hurry. Trust me, if you ever try to date one of those punks, you'll have to walk."

"Dad, I have a car of my own," I interrupted, "Besides, I don't date. Who was the guy, anyways?" I guessed Mike, since I knew he had a lead foot. At least, according to what Jessica told me. She always complained about having to take the passenger seat whenever they went out, preferring the back seat and the sound of the water lapping against the rocks at First Beach. The idea of that being a perfect date only made me cringe from boys even more.

My dad's eyebrows scrunched together in thought. "One of the new kids, the Cullens," he said through a mouthful of food, "Edmund, I think. The one with the reddish hair."

I felt the bread I was chewing on lodge in my throat, blocking the air form getting to my lungs, and I swear my heart almost stopped. I cleared my throat and spoke in a quiet voice.

"Edward?"

"You know the kid?" Dad asked, spoonful of soup almost to his mouth. I gave a small nod. Know was too strong of a word at the moment, but I was aware of his presence.

"Promise me you'll never get into a car with him. He's a maniac behind the wheel and has no respect for authority," he said, stern and unmoving. I nodded again, this time much stronger. Charlie was a humble man, but when it came to his job, he wanted people to treat him with regard.

Unfortunately, most teenagers by then had already heard their fill of "Fight the Power" songs, and the bitter taste towards law enforcement still lingered in their mouths. I, however, kept on the right side of the law, even if it took off its badge before dinner.

"I accidentally gave him a nose bleed in gym today," I offered, hoping he would be at least impressed.

"Good girl." And that was the end of that. For then.

A few hours later, after dad had fallen asleep on the couch watching some sports game, I crept up to my room and turned on my laptop. Even though I could hear my father's snores floating up the stairs, my hands trembled as I typed in 'Edward Cullen' into the search engine. I acme up with a flood of responses, from biographies on some saint with the same name to lyrics for an unknown artist. But at last, I found an article from a newspaper, dated only a month before. I clicked on it and felt my stomach drop.

It was from the San Francisco Times, and in the middle was a blown up picture of Edward's face. It was ashen and tired, like he had been up for days. Not at all the handsome boy I saw that afternoon in the gym. As I scrolled down, I caught the article itself and read, pouring over every word.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, famous for his surgical skills, charming smile and wonderful family life, now has a blot on his perfect image. His son, Edward Anthony Cullen, was recently caught in his hometown, in possession of a prostitute and marijuana. Police reports say he used vulgar language and protested to being arrested, also causing a scuffle with the arresting officer. The girl in question did not make any comments and was released to the custody of her parents. Edward Cullen was sent to the county jail where he now awaits a hearing from the judge to receive the charges. Cullen may receive up to five months in jail or a year in rehab. Dr. Cullen has yet to make an official statement on the behalf of his son, but we have heard rumors of him pleading for rehab so he cane movie his family out of state. Edward Cullen, a senior in high school, has refused to comment on his crimes.

I paused, my eyes glued to the screen. I scrolled back up and gazed into the blank eyes of his photograph, apparently his mug shot from when he was taken into the jail. He looked back at me, his exhausted face mirroring his words earlier that day again. I'm not a good friend.

I quickly shut my computer and sat on my bed for a moment, staring blankly into the blackness of my room. I imagined him there, watching me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I told you I'm no good, I could hear him saying that over and over again in my head, my mind manipulating his voice to mold around those words. My breath quickened and my heart raced inside me as I stood up, nearly stumbling over the slick hardwood floor, and turned on my desk lamp. The light flooded a large circle of the room, covering me whole. There was no ghostly Edward watching me, no eyes peering at me from the shadows.

But I was not afraid of him, nor was I upset. The strange and disturbing emotion that came over me as I headed downstair again was desire. I wanted to see him again. I needed to.

The next morning, I pulled into the parking lot at school, and my stomach made flip flops. I was parked at the end closest to the school where most of the spots were empty. The kids that actually owned their own cars or borrowed one form their parents raced for the furthest spots so they could easily ditch to have a smoke or "catch up" with their beaus. This left me with the best place to park, right where I could scurry to the sanctuary of my truck and head home before somebody bothered me about a date or a study session.

I sat in the warm cab of my truck and rubbed my hands together, hoping my jacket would keep out the cold and somehow that I could retain some of the warmth before I sprinted for the comfort of the old brick buildings. It was only seven in the morning, but the chill had settled in before I had woken up.

Normally I felt fine this early in the day, but seeing a silver Volvo three cars down gave me a nauseous feeling. I climbed out of the cab and slammed my door shut. I winced at the loud sound, wishing I had a car with doors that shut when you effortlessly closed them. I kept my eyes forward and my book bag slung over my should, picturing it as a machine gun, ready to blast away anyone who got in my way.

I couldn't fathom why I felt that strong impulse to see that Edward boy again. He was danger, bad news, no good for me. He had all the warning signs and then some. The title to the article I read that night read: DOES THE APPLE FALL FAR FORM THE TREE? Was he a bad seed, or just an apple with a bruise, making him undesirable to everyone except me?

That question would have to wait. I spotted his sister Alice, walking arm in arm with her tall blonde sister. Rosalie, I think he name was. They were chatting about dying their hair again. I could barely see the roots of Alice's hair, but they bore a lighter shade than the rest of her hair. Rosalie's, however, was fading from blonde to a light shade of brown. Even though they were all adopted form different people, they weren't so entirely different.

I didn't notice that I had come to a complete stop in the middle of the lane until I saw the two girls ahead of me pause and turn, looking at me with an odd expression on their faces, which quickly morphed into shock. They pointed behind me and yelled, but I was in too much of a daze to understand. My legs swivelled slightly, turning to see what they were so shocked about when something slammed into me pushing me sideways. I couldn't turn to see what had dragged me down, but I caught the headlights before the side of my head met asphalt, and everything went black.