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Chapter 4 – Jasper Whitlock Says…
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEEEEEEP! With my eyes still closed, my arms blindly searched the snooze button of my alarm clock. The loud boom! that followed was what actually made me open my eyes, just to see my poor alarm clock laying on the floor. Yeah, even I was surprised that thing wasn't dead yet. I just lay there for a minute, curled up and staring at my alarm clock, that was now blaring out some Bon Jovi song I couldn't recognize in my sleepy state.
Finally deciding I really had go to school, I threw away my sheets and stood up. With one eye closed I looked at the familiar brown-haired girl, clad in a simple tight-fitting tank top and an old pair of Snoopy pyjama pants, looking back at me in the mirror. I yawned, not bothering to put my hand in front of my mouth. Who was looking anyway?
After grabbing a towel and a pair of underwear, I stumbled to the bathroom. I heard Phil's snoring as I passed his and Mom's room, which meant he didn't have to work today.
A quick shower was enough to wake me up. The wonders of a good douche. Too bad the stress returned as soon as I looked at my alarm clock, which was still laying on the floor. 7:26, the angry, red digits screamed at me. Shiiiiiit. It's not that I minded being late or something. I was tardy a lot. But I'd promised Rose I'd be there today to meet her cousin.
Oh fuck.
"Gotta go, can't eat!" I yelled at Mom as I hurriedly scrambled down the stairs and raced to my old '53 Chevy pick-up. I started the engine and with a loud rumble, left. Rose will understand, I told myself.
As you could guess, the parking lot was empty.
"Sorry, Mr Mason," I apologized, shooting my least favorite teacher a convincing smile as I walked into the room. "Traffic was awful."
The class grinned – traffic in Forks. Right.
"Yeah, yeah, Miss Swan," Mr Mason said, apparently not finding it as funny as my classmates and giving me a stern look, "Go sit down, but don't let me hear from you again."
At moments like this my interest in books seemed to pay off. English was my best class and Mr Mason knew I was one of his best students. He loved it when I'd make comment on a Jane Austen novel. Some of the girls in my year didn't even know what half the book meant. Lamentation? Tincture? Exuberance? Profligate? And why does she call a woman handsome? Not that you could really blame them. I couldn't help but use the dictionary too when I read Pride and Prejudice for the very first time.
I walked to my usual seat next to Edward, who gave me a smirk as I flopped down next to him. At times like this I seriously hated sharing so many classes with Edward.
"What?" I asked, under my breath.
"Rosalie's aaaaangry," he said in an odd sing-song voice.
"I'll make it up to her," I said, more to myself than to Edward, "So, how's Rose's cousin?"
Edward's smirk widened. Oh, no. That can't be good. "He's certainly not what everybody expected."
"You mean an Abercrombie and Fitch-wearing snob?" I asked, one eyebrow raised. Exactly what Charlotte said.
"Exactly," he confirmed with a nod, "I'll let you see for yourself. Now, why were you late? Did you harass that poor alarm clock again? That excuse was really lame, by the way."
I snorted, "Mason thought so too, apparently. Maybe you are family."
"My name is Maseeeen," he protested aggravated, "His is Masoooooon."
"But he didn't want to know you're his family, so he changed the 'o' in an 'e', or maybe he is the one who changed his name. I understand his point," I grinned impishly, ignoring his scowl, "But tell me about Rose's cousin. And don't give me the 'I'll let you see for yourself'-crap."
"Let's just say… he isn't the seven year old he used to be."
No, duh.
"But –"
"Ms Swan, what did I tell you?" Mason's sharp voice interrupted me. Bastard. Really, evil, twisted, malicious…"Be quiet, don't let me hear anything from you again."
No. Shut up. "Of course, sir," I replied, smiling sweetly.
"Now, page 176…"
"I hate him," I mumbled to Edward, "I like English, why do we have Mason? He ruins everything. Why can't we have Mr Berty? He's cool." Really, Mr Berty was. He's one of those 'cool' teachers – those who crack awesome (sometimes a bit oversexed) jokes. "He's really, really, unbelievably stupid. Evil, too. I mean, why does he have to be so – ugh."
"Of course," Edward told me dryly, blinking bemusedly, "If you say so."
"Don't look at me like that."
Like whaaat? His innocent expression asked me sweetly.
"It makes me feel like you're smarter than me," I explained with a grin. He was probably – no, not probably, he just was – smarter than me, but I wasn't going to admit that. Especially not to Edward, who'd rub it in your face all the time. I couldn't help his vocabulary was so damn big.
Edward snorted unbelievably, "Keep telling yourself that."
"Quiet!" I hissed, "Mason's looking, basta – aaaaaand that's why you should read Hamlet. Did you know the original title was The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark? Really, the book explores some pretty heavy themes…" The bell cut off my incoherent, sort of stupid excuse.
Literally saved by the bell.
"You're so fucking lucky," Edward said with a small smirk as we walked to Government, burying his hands into his jeans pockets, "The look he gave you… I don't think he could get any more red."
"I know," I grinned as we entered building 6, "But c'mon, we don't want another angry teacher, don't we? Jefferson's always grumpy on Thursdays."
"And Fridays," Edward added.
"And Mondays…"
"And Tuesdays…"
"Yeah, and Wednesdays. Let's just go already."
000
"I can't believe you," Rosalie said coldly, her unusual violet eyes very cold, "You promised – you promised you'd be there! I told Jasper you'd be there." I knew she wasn't so angry because I didn't come. It didn't matter to her. I could always meet Jasper later. But I'd broken a promise and promises were something very important to Rose. Just like they were very important to me.
I looked at my best friend in the whole world with big, wide eyes, "Sorry, Rose," I apologized with a guilty glance at my shoes, "I tried… but you know me."
"Yeah," she said crossly, her eyes hard.
"C'mooooon, Rose. I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. Forgive me?"
The ice cold look seemed to melt a bit, "Fine," she said admittedly, "But just because it's you."
"Then I'm very lucky to be me," I beamed, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her close to me.
"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, untangling herself, but she had a smile on her face, "Let's go, Jasper's waiting for us. I told him he could sit with us."
"There you are," Alice's voice greeted us, "I saw your brother, Rose. Jasper Whitlock is –"
"Don't you dare to say hot, delicious, yummy, smoking, fine, handsome, adorable, mouth-watering, heavenly, tasty or good-looking, okay?" Rose cut her off, annoyed.
"…I was going to say nice, but what you said is also alright," Alice said with a cheeky grin, slipping her around our shoulders and escorting us to the cafeteria.
There were a very few things I hated. Hate was a big word, Daddy – not Charlie – taught me when I was a young girl, and that just stuck with me. Hating something or someone is loving one less, he used to tell me wisely. But I hated, truly hated, a few things in life. One of those things were fluorescent lights.
Esme, Edward, Maria, Emmett, Tanya, Kate and an unknown boy who had to be Jasper Whitlock were sitting at our usual table (same table, but different people almost everyday. Some ditched class once in a while, others decided they needed some physical contact… but that's besides the point). It wasn't hard to say the unknown boy was Jasper Whitlock – he was, just like Rose, tall, blond and very, very hot.
The description 'handsome' didn't seem to do justice as he shot us – or Rose, whatever – a crooked grin that, in my opinion, could rival Edward's.
Everyone mumbled a hello, but one seemed to stand out the most.
"Hello there, ladies," Boy-Who-Just-Had-To-Be-Jasper drawled charmingly as we sat down. Rosalie next to him, me next to Rosalie. He looked straight at me and the first thing I noticed were his eyes. They were like the sea. Not the Caribbean sea, or the Red Sea, but truly like the waters of La Push – stormy, grayish-blue and changing with every movement he made. Sounds cliché, I know. "You must be Bella Swan."
Southern twang? Daaaaaaamn. Damn. Damn. Damn!
Jasper Whitlock just said hi.
AN: Aaaaaaaaand Jasper entered the picture. Sorry it took me so long to update… homework's killing me. I hate homework. But who doesn't?
Please tell me what you think!
Dory