Chapter 2: Confrontation
Disclaimer: "Twilight" belongs to Stephenie Meyer. "Les Yeux de la Lune" belongs to Elysabeth, who says "merci!" for your reviews.
T/N: In Elysabeth's version of Forks High, ExB's biology class is sometimes before lunch, and sometimes afterward (as it was at her own high school in Quebec), which means the other classes shift around too.
Chapter 2: Confrontation
One sees clearly only with the heart. Anything essential is invisible to the eyes … But eyes are blind. You have to look with the heart.
- "The Little Prince," Saint-Exupéry
I didn't take her hand. Could she not realize that she would be condemning herself to death if she touched me? The briefest contact and I would be overcome by the warmth of her skin, the thin membrane covering the most delectable of nectars.
Fantasizing about her taste sickened me, revolted me. The monster in me was thrilled to learn of my victim's handicap - for she would be my victim; it was inevitable. "Perfect," the monster told itself. "She will be easier to trap. She won't know what is happening to her. She'll be dead before she can understand." And the Edward in me - the weak man who was losing the battle - would cower at the bottom of the abyss with the sole consolation of knowing that Bella Swan had never seen the monster. She would have believed, until the last drop of her life was swallowed, that I was a normal student, ordinary, just like the others. The last memory she would carry into death would not be about the abominable vampire Edward Cullen. She would not detest me as she died.
NO.
I could not permit the monster to gain ground. I had to leave. I could hold my breath, cut myself off from that exquisite scent, but the memory of her perfumed blood would reside forever in my killer's brain. The temptation to take her would remain too strong. She was too close. So I would leave. I stood up, barely noticing the surprise on the girl's face when she heard my chair scrape the floor. I murmured a vague excuse to Banner and left without waiting for his permission.
What pretext did I use? I couldn't figure it out even a week later, while I was wallowing in the darkness in Denali, the only place I felt at home besides Forks.
Everyone there welcomed me without questions, although they all suspected that something serious had happened - had nearly happened. My family had let me leave without judging me or voicing disappointment in me. They understood my reaction. Of the seven of us, I was the one who was the least accepting of my nature and they knew that I was tortured by just the possibility that I might have succumbed to the urge to kill. I knew that they would never reproach me for failing, that they would be sympathetic, that anyone could make a mistake. They would forgive me. But I would never be able to pardon myself.
Some days spent far from her, from her fragrance, had allowed me to take stock of the situation. My family missed me, but they respected my decision to leave. Still, my absence pained them, and that was part of the reason I decided to shorten my time in Denali. The other part, though, was her. I wasn't going to let this human girl unknowingly dictate where I lived. I would not let her control my existence. I wasn't going to tear my family apart because of her - for that was what would happen: some would leave Forks if that was the only means of avoiding a murder. But others would want to stay. We had just restarted this cycle of pretending to be students, after all. We were settled in Forks, and we liked it. We felt at home.
No, I wasn't going to force my family to decide whether to move. Carlisle had confidence in me, and I wanted to prove that I was worthy of that confidence. He had taught me everything, had helped me preserve my humanity - at least, what remained of it. I wasn't going to disappoint him.
So I returned. For good. I would confront the cause of my torture and overcome it. No, a mere human girl would not defeat me. I wouldn't allow it.
I was ready to return to school. As a precaution, I hunted more than necessary the evening before, and I was glutted. My brothers and sisters were watching me. I detested being a source of worry, but they were doing what family did: they were supporting me.
This time, Alice focused on me and not Jasper. She was 90 percent sure that I would control myself today. I forced myself not to think of the 10 percent chance that I wouldn't, a chance that I found much too high. I didn't breathe. I blocked my nose and kept my mouth closed, just in case a trace of the girl's scent was in the air.
We had taken all the precautions except the most logical one: flight. Waiting two years for her to finish school and leave. But I wasn't a coward and ignored that option.
That morning, we took our usual places at our table in the cafeteria, on tenterhooks. We were being cautious. Class began in a half-hour.
"She'll be here in 15 minutes, " Alice predicted.
I prepared myself mentally, then spent the minutes that remained scanning the minds around us, to see if my precipitous departure last week had raised suspicions.
Nothing.
Nobody thought anything of my return. The students here were accustomed to our frequent absences, but the Swan girl could have told someone that I had acted oddly before I left. Nothing, however, in these minds indicated that the girl had said anything compromising about me. Although upon reflection, I had to believe that there was nothing compromising to say since she had seen nothing of the thirsting killer who had sat next to her in bio. I didn't have to fear a rumor about me, a rumor that would rouse suspicions and fears. For her, I had shown myself to be impolite by ignoring her greeting, but that was all.
"In 10 seconds, she will come through the door," Alice whispered. My family closed ranks around me, a rampart against her scent.
I stared at the door, my jaw locked, ready to confront the girl I hated, this human unaware of the power she had over me. I hated her for smelling so good. I saw her shadow in the doorway, and when I reflexively tried to penetrate her mind, I hated her still more for remaining so enigmatic, so impossible to read.
She was there, framed by the jamb. At the sight of her, the monster in me recalled her fragrance. I didn't breathe, but my memory insistently provided me a reminder of how appetizing she smelled. I heard her heart beat calmly, regularly. I saw her blood run under her thin, translucent skin, a quiet crimson stream circulating peacefully . A tempting stream, but I wasn't going to drink from it. Never.
I forced myself to look at her face: the container and not the contents. And I had a shock. In seeing her delicate features, her good-natured smile, her eyelids half-open, her pale complexion, her thin shoulders, her sadly inanimate irises, the hate consuming me vanished. How could I detest someone so innocent, so fragile? It was impossible to believe that such a vulnerable girl could inspire hate in anyone. It wasn't her fault that I was weak. She couldn't help what she was, how she smelled.
There remained in me only the hate that I had for myself.
How could I have failed to notice her dead eyes that first day? It was so obvious now. I was the most observant creature in this school, even more than my siblings, and I hadn't noticed her blindness. Perhaps I was too focused on reading her mind to realize anything that day.
She stepped into the cafeteria. Alone. Where was her escort?
She walked more confidently now, aided by one of the long metal canes used by the visually impaired. Why didn't she have it the first day? And why was I wondering? What was it to me?
She went to the counter to get something to eat. Nobody stared at her. Even with her handicap, everyone had forgotten the new student. Her novelty was gone. Even the circle of classmates who had made her part of their group was no longer preoccupied with her. They all greeted her briefly when she sat down, nothing more. Only the thoughts of Angela, Mike and Jessica turned to the Swan girl.
She nearly crushed my foot with that effing cane, Jessica bitched.
I wonder if she can help me with my English homework, Angela thought.
Go out with her or not? Mike asked himself. I'm sure nobody will ask her to prom. If Jessica doesn't give me an answer, I'll try Bella.
I was strangely irritated by Newton's vaguely formulated plans. Why?
Bella opened a bottle of white liquid (milk?) and unwrapped a pastry (that was called a muffin, right?) . She seemed less shy than the last time I saw her. The people crowding her the other day had embarrassed her, and today she seemed relieved to be out of the spotlight. She kept herself a little apart from the three others and that seemed to agree with her. Bella Swan was a solitary soul.
Mike regarded his own muffin with a grimace, then shot an envious glance at Bella's. She took the last raisin one. I saw his mind consider the possibilities while he looked at the two muffins. She won't know what I'm doing. She'll just think that she took the wrong muffin from the counter. His decision made, he took advantage of Bella's taking a drink of milk to silently swap his muffin with hers.
Angela gave him a silent look of reproach while Jessica stifled a laugh.
I tensed in my chair and released a growl inaudible to humans but clearly distinct to my family. Emmett gripped my shoulder, misunderstanding my reaction. The others were ready to hold me back, their bodies leaning toward me. To an outsider, it looked as if they were leaning across the table to hear me tell a secret.
"It's not what you think," I mumbled.
Why had I reacted this way to an unimportant scrap of human? Why this sudden anger that Mike wanted to have some fun with the Swan girl?
I considered my attitude, then I understood. That Mike took advantage of her handicap was despicable. As despicable as the predator in me who wanted her desperately. Did I not want to take advantage of her also?
It was humiliating to be as despicable as that jerk Newton and I realized that this anger I felt was directed at me and not him.
Bella set her bottle down next to the muffin she had just unknowingly inherited. She smiled. "I don't like blueberries, either, Mike. Could you give me back the raisin muffin, please?"
Newton's jaw dropped. Jessica and Angela simultaneously exclaimed, "Oh!" and I was surprised at having to suppress a laugh.
My siblings also were following the conversation. They didn't laugh, but displayed different degrees of surprise and incredulity.
Bella Swan was blind, but she was nobody's fool.
And that pleased me.
I stopped snickering at that observation. Nothing about her should please me. Her blood pleased me too much already.
Mike was floundering.
"How – how did you –"
"I noticed that the raisin scent was replaced by that of blueberries. And I could smell your aftershave. It's rather strong."
Betrayed by his aftershave.
Newton's feelings of shame and humiliation were obvious on his face.
"Sorry, Bella," he mumbled sheepishly.
"No problem. It's not the first time someone's tried to trick me."
She held her hand out to Newton, and he returned her property. She bit into her muffin, her expression mischievous.
Jessica shrugged and Angela silently congratulated Bella.
Bella was still smiling, and I would have given anything to know what she was thinking. Was she hiding anger behind that smile? Was she mentally cursing out Newton? She hadn't reproached him out loud at all. She even seemed to find the incident humorous.
"Look, Edward Cullen is gracing us with his presence." Jessica had suddenly remarked that I was back in school - and still staring at the same girl.
Bella seemed surprised and … worried?
Was she worried because I was in the vicinity? In our last encounter, had she finally sensed, one way or another, the killer in me? After all, she had detected Newton's attempted theft so she was probably intuitive enough to perceive the danger I represented.
"Oh, he's back … I hope he's better. He didn't feel well, I think."
I was thunderstruck. She wasn't worried about the killer. She was worried for the killer.
"Pfff. I bet he pretended to be sick to skip class," Jessica said. "The Cullens are so smart that they can miss lots of school."
"I didn't have the impression that he was acting. He really seemed to be in pain."
She hadn't seen the killer in me, but she had observed my suffering …
"He's watching you again," Angela said quietly without daring to glance too often at my table.
Bella raised an eyebrow.
"Really? Maybe I have a milk moustache."
"No, you don't. I think he likes you," Angela said.
Like! Oh, yes, I liked her. In a lethal way.
Bella's sudden laugh rang in my ears. It was like crystal, appealing, light, happy.
"I think that he's simply not used to be around somebody blind. That's common. People are always curious that way, " she said with a shrug and a rueful smile.
From her tone, I knew that I wasn't the first to stare. Though I also knew that I was doing so for quite other reasons than her handicap.
When it was time for classes to begin,I stayed in my seat. The humans filed out, and I caught myself trying to distinguish her footsteps from those of the other students, as if there was something important or unusual about them. How stupid.
My family made no move to leave either. They waited to see what I would do.
Would I go to class, sit next to the girl where I could smell the absurdly potent scent of her blood, and feel the warmth of her pulse in the air against my skin? Was I strong enough for that? Or had I had enough for one day?
" I … think it's okay," Alice said, hesitant. "Your mind is set. I think you'll make it through the hour."
But Alice knew well how quickly a mind could change.
"Why push it, Edward?" Jasper asked.
Though he didn't want to feel smug that I was the one who was weak now, I could hear that he did, just a little.
"Go back home. Take it slow," he advised.
"What's the problem?" Emmett said in disagreement. "Either he will or he won't kill her. Might as well get it over with either way."
"I don't want to have to move yet," Rosalie complained. "I don't want to have to start over. We're almost out of high school, Emmett. Finally."
I was just as divided as my family. I wanted, badly, to face this head on rather than running away again. But I didn't want to push myself too far either. It had been a mistake last week for Jasper to go so long without hunting; was I about to make just as pointless an error?
I didn't want to uproot my family. None of them would thank me for that. But I wanted to go to biology. I realized that I wanted to see her face again.
And that was what decided me. That curiosity.
I hadn't wanted the silent mind of this girl to make me unduly interested in her. Yet here I was, unduly interested. I wanted to know what she was thinking. I wanted to learn how to interpret the clues given by her expressions, her body, her voice, even her silences.
Why did I so want to know her? No other human had ever inspired such an interest before. Never. Why then did I want so much to see her again? What was the compulsion that pushed me to find out more about her? What good did it do?
The rational part of my mind answered that if I learned more about her, I would see the human in the prey. If I knew her more, I would see her as a whole person, a being with feelings, aspirations, dreams. Little by little, with care, I would not longer see the prey, would no longer thirst to destroy her.
The other part of my mind - a hidden part whose existence I hadn't suspected - offered another answer: if I wanted so much to know her, it was because she had awakened in me something that had been sleeping for a century.
I stiffened and dismissed that thought.
"No, Rose, I think it really will be okay," Alice said. "It's ... firming up. I am sure that nothing bad is going to happen if he goes to class."
She looked at me inquisitively, wondering what had changed in my thoughts to make her visions now more secure.
Would curiosity be enough to keep Bella Swan alive?
"Go to class," I ordered.
I stood up and strode away from the table without looking back. I could hear Alice's worry, Jasper's discontent, Emmett's approval and Rosalie's irritation trailing after me.
I took one last deep breath outside the biology classroom and held it in my lungs as I walked into the warm, small room.
I wasn't late. Mr. Banner was still setting up for the day's lab. The girl was seated at my - our - table, taking out her laptop. I examined her gear as I approached. Certain details had escaped me last time as I struggled with her scent: I noted that her keyboard had no letters, but raised dots instead. Braille, I realized.
I pulled out my chair with unnecessary roughness, dragging it noisily on the floor. I wanted her to know that I was there. I knew that she had heard me because she paused for a second in organizing her things, but then she went on without acknowledging me.
She didn't greet me as she had last time, give me a friendly look, or offer her hand. She had definitely noticed my impoliteness the other day. She feared another rejection if she tried to approach me.
I had to be sure to give her a different impression of me this time.
"Hello," I said in a quiet voice, the one I used to put humans at ease, and smiled politely, being careful not to show my teeth -even as I wondered why I made the effort for someone who couldn't see it.
She looked up then, intrigued, and turned toward where she judged my face was.
"Hi," she answered. She smiled, cautiously.
"You must be Bella?"
"Yes."
"My name is Edward Cullen. I'm sorry I didn't say hello to you last week. I wasn't feeling well."
"Not a problem."
Silence.
What else could I say? I wasn't used to making conversation. The only people who talked to me were the members of my family, and I never wondered what to say to them because I could just read their thoughts.
"So, how is it living in Forks?" was what I managed to come up with.
"Oh, it's less overwhelming than Phoenix."
I looked in her lifeless eyes.
"It has to be overwhelming wherever you are," I blurted.
I cursed myself. What a way to begin a polite conversation - I couldn't have found a better way to sound as if I was mocking her for her handicap.
"I mean -" I stammered. I couldn't believe it - it was usually the humans who hesitated, stuttered, spluttered when they had to speak to me.
She perceived my embarrassment and shook her head, giving me a reassuring smile.
"Hey, it's not a taboo subject, my blindness."
I could say nothing further, because Banner called the class to order and issued instructions about the day's experiment. There was a microscope on each table, and we were to identify the different stages of mitosis on onionskin cells. We were supposed to work in pairs, but obviously that was impossible.
"You, Bella, write a description of the phenomenon." Ah, Banner was giving her a special assignment.
"Yes, sir." She began writing on her Braille keyboard. What appeared on the screen, though, were letters - her software translated Braille into Latin letters.
With a sigh of resignation, Banner handed me five slides to identify. Why do I even bother to make him do this lab? He'll be done in 10 minutes. Ten minutes? I could do it in two minutes, if I wanted. I suppressed a smile and started the work. Perhaps I should deliberately make an error or two to avoid Banner's suspicions, act like every other student of my supposed age?
But I rapidly filled out the worksheet, without bother to conceal my speed. My neighbor couldn't see me; why bother maintaining a human pace?
"You're done?" she asked, pausing in her typing. It wasn't a question, but rather a request for confirmation.
I was too astonished to respond immediately. How could she have known? Hmm. Perhaps she no longer heard me manipulate the microscope and she had deduced that I was finished. I should have worked at a human speed, after all; she was going to find my rapidity strange.
I told myself that I could lie and claim that I wasn't yet finished. I could play with the microscope to give credence to my lie.
"I'm done, yes."
The words came out on their own. I realized that I didn't want to lie to her. I wanted to be as honest as I could while still keeping my nature secret.
I was troubled by my sudden desire for candor.
"Good," she said. She didn't seem the least impressed by my speed.
Apparently, she too had finished. On her screen I could see a long, precisely rendered essay describing the phenomenon of mitosis.
"Could you do me a favor?"
A student asking a Cullen for a favor? That had never happened before. The instinct for self-preservation subconsciously told humans to not trust us, and so no one dared ask us anything, even to borrow an eraser. But Bella Swan's subconscious wouldn't counsel prudence since she couldn't see the predator in me
"I would like very much to do this lab."
"Oh."
Something pinched in my chest, but I couldn't figure out its source. Pity? Bella wanted to do what the other students were doing, to be treated like the others. Wasn't that what my family and I wanted as well? To be as human as possible, to be normal.
Discovering that I had something in common with this girl gave me a start. A start that fortunately no one around me noticed. For a long second, this observation disturbed me.
The hunter aspiring for the same thing as his prey. What irony.
I looked at my neighbor's profile, delicate but also proud. Bella Swan neither needed pity nor wanted it. She accepted her condition. That, that was something that we didn't have in common: after 90 years, I was still repulsed by myself, and my encounter with the Swan girl had made me only detest the monster that I was all the more.
"Can you review each slide for me?"
I shook off my thoughts so I could concentrate on the girl next to me.
"Review?"
"Yes. Describe to me what you see on each slide. I'll try to figure out what phase of mitosis it is."
Silence.
She probably interpreted it as unease on my part, and her smile faded. In fact, I was speechless: no student in this class was thrilled at having to do such a difficult lab and they all envied – I heard in their collective thoughts – Bella Swan for being spared this exercise. But now the only student in class who could skip it wanted very much to do it, and I was amused.
Bella's shoulders hunched and I supposed – it was the only option I could suppose – that she felt that she was being annoying. "Would you?" she added, more timidly.
I saw no reason to refuse.
"Okay," I said in a welcoming voice so that she would understand that I was far from finding her annoying.
I didn't bother to look in the microscope. I could recall each particle, each cell, each chromosome corresponding to the different stages. I began by describing metaphase. The raising of her eyebrows told me that my description astonished her in its scientific precision. Having two medical degrees had its advantages. But my vocabulary soon no longer surprised her. She listened carefully to what I was saying, and I saw a flash of intelligence in her dead gaze; Bella Swan was impressed by the knowledge I possessed, but not confused by it. I saw from her attentive features that she understood each word that would have been a foreign language to the average student.
"Metaphase," she said the instant I had finished my description.
I smiled. Bella Swan was brilliant.
"That was my conclusion as well," I told her.
I described the other phases, and she identified each with a disconcerting rapidity.
"We have arrived at the same conclusion for each slide," I said. "I can put your name on the lab sheet, if you wish."
A smile of pleasure brightened her face. My suggestion touched her. She was content to have been able to do this lab, to do something like all the other students.
"If that doesn't bother you."
I shook my head stupidly before remember that she couldn't see me.
"Not at all."
I wrote down her name, after which I corrected the two incorrect answers that I had listed in order to avoid Banner's suspicions. With two of us, it was credible that our lab was perfect. Besides, after a week, Banner had surely noticed that his new student was nearly as gifted as I was in biology.
She gave me another smile, then scooted away from me. I was curiously disappointed that she had turned away. Had I been disagreeable in some way without realizing it?
Then I realized that she didn't want to bother me further. She still thought that I helped her out of politeness, even pity, and she was trying to let me know that she wouldn't ask for favors in the future. I searched for a way to retain her attention as, to pass the time until the other students had finished, Bella returned to her keyboard to open another program. She started to write something, but it was impossible to read what was on the screen: everything was in dots, in Braille.
Just like her mind, this language was impossible for me to decipher, and I was exasperated by it. It was completely absurd to be irritated so thoroughly by something so banal. I wasn't the only person in the world not to know Braille. Why did it bother me, then? Because there were already enough mysteries in Bella's head without my being unable to even read what she was writing? I knew dozens of languages and dialects, but it had never occurred to me to learn Braille. I promised myself to remedy that as soon as possible. Why? I didn't know.
I shook my head, failing to understand my own behavior. I wanted to pull her out of her bubble and find a way to make her speak, to tell me more. There was surely something in what she had said that would help me understand her better, to comprehend why her mind was closed to me – why she fascinated me so much.
However, there was a problem: I was out of air. I didn't need to breathe, but to speak my vocal chords needed air to make their vibrations. I leaned as far away from her as I could without leaving my seat, turning my head. I steeled myself, locked my muscles and took a rapid inhalation through my mouth.
Ahh!
It was truly painful. Even without smelling her, I had her taste on my tongue. My throat was again on fire, wanting her as strongly as the first time I encountered her fragrance, last week. I clenched my jaw, trying to regain power over my urges. It was as if I had to marshal every ounce of self-control I had acquired during 70 hard years in order to turn again toward the girl.
I repressed my pain and concentrated on the curiosity I wanted so much to satisfy. I opted for a frequent topic among humans: the weather.
"So, are you happy about the rain?"
She lifted her head, weighed my words for a few seconds, perhaps asking herself if they were really addressed to her. Then she frowned and pivoted to me, a sign that she was amenable to a conversation even if the subject surprised her.
"You really want to talk about the weather?"
No, what I really wanted was to prove to her that I could have a normal conversation with her, and proved to myself that I could ignore the predator greedy for her blood, that I could control it and behave like a human next t her.
"I guess so."
She shrugged.
"I like the rain."
All the students here – in fact, all the young people in town – complained about the eternal rain of Forks, but Bella Swan liked it. More and more interesting.
"Then you are going to like it here."
"I hope so. Anyway, everyone is nice."
It was obvious that she included me in "everyone." How mistaken. Don't trust me, Bella. Make it easier for me: don't be interesting, so easy to talk to, so included to be friendly. Run from me!
I mentally put myself on guard and her as well. But I continued the conversation, as simple as that.
"You certainly had quite a welcoming committee," I said, teasing, remembering the excitement her arrival had caused.
"Oh, in the beginning everyone tries to help, out of politeness, but it stops after a few weeks. People get tired of being Good Samaritans."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, I drive people away, usually. They don't know how to act with me."
How ironic life was. As they did with me, people stayed away from her because she wasn't normal. As with me, they were uneasy with her. At least I had my family to turn to. Whom did she turn to?
"Please, don't pity me. I detest that." She has accurately interpreted my silence, this time. Or rather, almost accurately. It wasn't pity that I felt, but rather … sadness.
Just what I needed - the lion feeling sad for the lamb!
I was finding myself ever more exasperating.
"I manage pretty well, you know," she went on, unaware of my internal self-derision. "I've been this way for a while. And there are even advantages to my condition."
I was skeptical. As a vampire, I saw few advantages to being an ordinary lamb, and it was still more difficult to find any in being a blind lamb.
"I'm sorry, I don't see what they are."
"Well, for example, I don't have to fear being asked a question in class; the teachers avoid it – they worry that I'll feel embarrassed, inferior, if I don't know the answer to their questions. Another advantage: I can pretend to take notes in class. When my screen is in Braille mode –" she pointed to her laptop "– nobody knows what I'm really writing. I can do whatever on my computer without the teacher realizing that it has nothing to do with class."
I realized that what Bella was writing wasn't meant to be a secret from me. She wasn't seeking to hide from me what she was doing - Braille mode was for Banner, in case he passed by and looked at her screen.
I smiled again, ridiculously relieved.
"So, right now, what you're writing isn't about biology."
"Indeed."
"And what are you writing?" I asked, astonished at myself for being so curious.
She hesitated a moment. A wrinkle appeared on her forehead and once more I would have given anything to know what she was thinking. I had to content myself with observing her expression, her body, looking for a physical clue that would help me understand her hesitation. She lowered her head and hunched her shoulders, twisting her hands together.
And finally I got it. Bella Swan was outgoing when it came to explaining her condition, to putting people at ease about her blindness, to satisfying the curiosity of others, but she was not at all accustomed to questions about herself. Nobody had ever been interested in the human being behind the disability. Once their curiosity was sated, people lost interest.
I became aware that beyond the desire to penetrate her mind, I wanted to know more about the girl behind the handicap, behind the lamb. And this desire wasn't motivated only by my conscience seeking to humanize the girl to repress the monster. I truly wanted to know her.
I found then, through joking, a way of encouraging her to open up.
"Promise I won't tell on you," I said conspiratorially.
She leaned toward me to whisper and I blocked my nostrils as her breath swept over my face.
"It's a score," she revealed. I was relieved that she couldn't see the grimace I made at her sudden proximity. To forget my discomfort, I concentrated on her voice. It was a bit embarrassed, as if she expected me to ridicule her for writing music.
"You compose songs?" I said, striving for a neutral tone.
"From time to time." She blushed, and the flood of blood to her cheeks would have my mouth fill with venom if her words hadn't shaken me so.
A musician.
"Do you play an instrument?"
She appeared stupefied at my question. She must have believed that I would mock her for her passion instead of being interested.
"Uh, the piano," she murmured.
Why was I disturbed? She wasn't the only girl of her age to play the piano. To discover that I had something else in common with her shouldn't have surprised me.
"I play it too," I couldn't stop myself from saying.
Her fixed eyes widened.
"You like the piano?"
This common interest surprised her as well, I remarked.
Just then, Banner arrived, and I inhaled with relief his banal odor that allowed me to push down the monster in me.
"You're done, Edward?"
"Yes, Mr. Banner."
He took the worksheet I handed to him and scanned it. He frowned in reading the heading.
"Edward, I'm sure you had the best intentions in the world in writing Isabella's name on your worksheet, but …" He glanced at my neighbor and continued silently, "She can't get special treatment because she's blind. Doing her work for her won't get her far in life."
Even if he was mistaken about my motivations, I had a lot of respect for a teacher who was determined that a gifted student, even a blind one, made her own way alone. But I changed my mind when I heard the rest of his thoughts. "I bet that she's the one who asked him to put her name on this worksheet. It's hard to refuse a favor for a handicapped person. Perhaps she took advantage of his good will. If she keeps doing that, she'll need a good talking to. She can't use her handicap to manipulate the other students to do her work."
I wanted to protest somehow without revealing that I knew the false conclusions that Banner had drawn. I was curiously irritated that he tarred my neighbor with having such intentions. I didn't like it that someone accused her in this way, even mentally.
But Bella answered before I could.
"I did what you asked, Mr. Banner."
Her fingers tentatively sought out the screen of her laptop. She clicked an icon that opened her bio text and turned the computer so that Banner could glance at it.
"I see. Print that, in that case. I will grade it with the other worksheets." He turned again toward me. "Erase the name of Miss Swan from your work, Edward."
I wanted to explain that Bella had correctly identified the phases and that she had just as much of as right as I to inscribe her name on the cursed worksheet, but Banner stepped away to work with the other students, who were all still studying their slides.
Bella shrugged. She hadn't even tried to say that she had done the lab. She had done it differently, but she had done it. She merely reached into her backpack and pulled out a little portable printer that she attached to her laptop. She inserted a blank sheet of paper and the machine started printing.
"Why didn't you say anything?" I wanted to know.
"Eh, it's pointless. You made it so I could do the lab, I know I got it right, I don't need Banner's approval. I wanted only to test myself, to see if I could do it. That's all that matters to me. I don't need to prove it to anyone else."
"How do you know you identified the phases correctly?"
"You smiled each time I gave my answer."
True, but how could she have know that? Why did she believe that a smile corresponded to a correct answer? I was a student like any other. I too could make errors. Why did she have such faith in my abilities? Had I betrayed myself without knowing it?
As I remained silent, Bella snickered mischievously.
"That surprises you, huh?"
She didn't know how much.
"I don't see anything, but I can analyze the tone of a voice and associate the facial expression that goes with it. Right now, you aren't saying anything, but I know that your eyes are wide in surprise, your eyebrows are lifted and your mouth is half-open."
She was correct again.
"When you described the phases to me, you spoke rapidly, with assurance. You didn't stumble over the multisyllabic scientific words. Your diction was natural; you didn't give me the impression of reciting from a biology textbook. You simply know what you're talking about. That's why I trusted your judgment that I was right when I gave my answers. I knew from the first day that you were advanced in bio, anyway."
"From the first day?"
"Yeah. A student working alone in a biology course when working in pairs is frequent, that's unusual. If Mr. Banner let you do half the year alone, it's because he knows you don't need anyone to help you. You can do it all yourself."
"You are quite astute, Bella."
"No, just observant."
Our faces were turned toward each other and we exchanged a smile. She didn't see me, but even so she smiled at the same time as me. I didn't have to worry about my razor-sharp teeth, which normally made people recoil when I smiled fully. But with Bella, I didn't have to hold back. I wanted to smile – a real smile, not just lifting the corners of my closed mouth – and so I did.
A comfortable silence descended on us that my curiosity propelled me to interrupt.
"I can ask you a question?"
"Go ahead."
"Why didn't you use a cane on your first day?"
Her face darkened.
"I overestimated my abilities."
"I don't understand."
"I believed that I could manage without aids, with just my four senses. I come from Phoenix—a big city where I went to a huge school. I stupidly believed that here in Forks, in a much smaller school, I would get around without problem. But even here there are too many obstacles."
"Wouldn't a guide dog be better?"
She broke into a laugh even more appealing than the one in the cafeteria. It sent shivers up my spine.
"I tried that," she said when she had calmed down.
"Oh?"
"When I was 13. At the end of two months I ended up in the hospital."
"How?" I asked, worried.
Worried?
Why did I feel this way? All that I should worry about was not sinking my teeth into her neck. Nothing else.
"I'm allergic to fur," she explained.
"Oh, too bad."
"I've found other ways to be independent," she said, tapping her cane against her seat. "But it's not enough …"
She bit her lip as if she wanted to take back her last words. She had said more than she wanted to. Bella was forthcoming only to a certain point. I realized that she had no hesitation about talking about her disability – to be part of society, she had no choice but to speak openly about it to put the people around her at ease – but she wasn't inclined to talk about herself.
And I was too greedy to know more to respect her reluctance to talk.
"Why?"
She inhaled, steeling herself to finish what she had started.
"My mother remarried."
"And you don't like the guy."
"No, it's not that. Phil's nice. He's a baseball player, not a very good one. But Renee adores him. He's always traveling and they miss each other. My mother could have gone with him, but she stayed because she didn't want to leave me alone. I saw that it was hard for her, so I decided it was time to bother Charlie a little."
Bother. A joking way to say that she saw herself as a burden, one that she had taken from her mother and loaded onto her father. Obviously, Bella Swan accepted her condition, but couldn't stand being a weight on others, a responsibility.
"She was unhappy so I told myself that she deserved to have some time with Phil."
"And now you're unhappy."
"No."
"Really?"
She scowled. I had touched a sore point.
"And you?" she asked.
"Me?"
"What's your story?"
Bella was avoiding my question, but I didn't push her. I didn't want her to withdraw from me. I didn't want to get her hackles up.
"I'm sure you've already heard everything," I said, wanting to talk about myself as little as she did.
She looked offended.
"I am not in the habit of believing in gossip. If I want to know someone, I ask him."
I recoiled, realizing suddenly that everything that had happened in the last hour was a mistake. I had had a conversation beyond the usual banalities like the weather. She had talked about herself and expected me to do the same.
A definite mistake.
It was out of the question to talk about myself. I could, of course, invent something, but it would have gone against my inexplicable desire not to lie to her. So I opted for retreat. I turned my body that had unconsciously leaned toward hers and made my voice hard.
" Believe me, you don't want to get to know me."
With one sentence, I destroyed the camaraderie that had been building between us. My cutting voice made her jump and she understood that our conversation was over. Her expression was questioning and … hurt. I forced myself to ignore the guilt that squeezed my chest.
She moved away from me brusquely, and her hair swinging with the movement, just as I decided to take another breath. A particularly concentrated wave of her fragrance hit my throat.
It was just like the first day – like a ball of flame. The pain of the dry burn made me dizzy. I had to grip the table to stay in my seat. At least this time I had a tiny bit more control. The monster groaned inside, but took no pleasure in the pain. He was too tightly restrained. For the moment.
I stopped breathing and moved as far away from the girl as possible.
No, I couldn't permit myself to find her fascinating. Our encounter was an aberration, a distraction that could not be repeated. For the more I talked to her, the more interesting I found her, and the more chances I would have to kill her.
I thanked heaven when the bell rang.
I left like a gust of wind, surely too quickly. I couldn't care. I needed to put as much distance as possible between me and her. I inhaled a huge breath of fresh air once I was outside. It was raining, and I welcomed the drops on my face. As if they could wash away the hate I felt for myself. As if they could chase away the monster in me. As if they could chase her from my thoughts.
Once I was more or less calm, I made my way to my next class. The day passed without my seeing the girl again. I didn't show up in the cafeteria at lunch. I ran into my siblings, though, and I saw the relief in their thoughts. Alice was content although her visions about me were still cloudy. I understood that I wasn't out of the woods, that I couldn't relax even though I had passed this first test.
At the end of the day, I was the first at my Volvo and I had to wait for the rest of my family. Everyone was walking carefully across the parking lot, and I wondered why. I realized then that the temperature had dropped after the rain and that a sheet of ice covered the asphalt.
I wanted to laugh at the awkwardness of the humans – how hard could it be to walk on ice? I'd never really understood this inability to keep a firm footing. But I didn't have the leisure to do that for I saw Tyler's van take off at top speed. He would quickly lose control of his vehicle.
The idiot.
He was going to collide with a vehicle parked at the other end of the lot. The van would take the force of the impact on its passenger side – at most Tyler would be knocked out. It would be the parked vehicle that would get the brunt of the damage.
I was already losing interest in the imminent accident when I saw a white cane enter my field of vision, followed by a silhouette taking hesitant steps and holding on to the fronts of the parked cars to keep her balance.
Isabella Marie Swan was squarely in the trajectory of the out-of control van.
A/N:
I would like to thank a particular reader who left me a very touching and encouraging comment. This reader has a point in common with my Bella. She is blind and I was very touched that my story had captured her interest. I know absolutely nothing about the world of vision-impaired. I write (forgive the pun) in the dark, so to discover that someone in the same situation as Bella was reading me was a stroke of luck.
She very kindly responded to all my harassing questions about her everyday life (For example, "um, thanks for reading me, but …. If you're blind how CAN you read me?" She explained to me the marvels of computer technology for the visually handicapped, which has been very helpful in my efforts to make a blind Bella credible. So thank you very much to Léa alias Lilyssy. You are very inspirational and I admire you greatly!