I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already started.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone.

I flushed and hurried to my seat.

It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of pleasure and a small amount of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven. Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if we were lucky.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe that I hadn't just imagined what Elisabeth had said, and the way her eyes had looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused with reality. That seemed more probable than that I really appealed to her on any level.

So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see her face, to see if she'd gone back to the cold, indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks. Or if, by some miracle, I'd really heard what I thought I'd heard this morning. Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans - Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together - completely unaware of my inattention.

Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes unerringly focused on her table. The other four were there, but she was absent. Had she gone home? I followed the still-babbling Jessica through the line, crushed. I'd lost my appetite - I bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to go sit down and sulk.

"Elisabeth is staring at you again," Jessica said, finally breaking through my abstraction with the name. "I wonder why she's sitting alone today."

My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Elisabeth, smiling crookedly, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where she usually sat. Once she'd caught my eye, she raised one hand and motioned with her index finger for me to join. As I stared in disbelief, she winked.

"Does she mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her voice. (She has a point, Narcissus)

"Maybe she needs help with her Biology homework," I muttered for her benefit. "I'd better go see what she wants."

I could feel her staring after me as I walked away.

When I reached her table, I stood behind the chair across from her, unsure.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" she asked, smiling.

I sat down automatically, watching her with caution. She was still smiling. It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real. I was afraid that she might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up.

She seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"This is different," I finally managed. (My aren't we slow)

"Well..." She paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

I waited for her to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by.

"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out.

"I know." She smiled again, and then changed the subject. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you." (Isolator AND a Cradle robber!)

"They'll survive." I could feel their stares boring into my back.

"I may not give you back, though," she said with a wicked glint in her eyes.

I gulped.

She laughed. "You look worried."

"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "Surprised, actually... what brought all this on?"

"I told you - I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." She was still smiling, but her ocher eyes were serious.

"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.

"Yes - giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." Her smile faded as she explained, and a hard edge crept into her voice.

"You lost me again."

The breathtaking crooked smile reappeared.

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you - that's one of the problems."

"Don't worry - I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.

"I'm counting on that."

"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends..." she mused, dubious.

"Or not," I muttered.

She grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind her smile, the warning was real.

"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in my stomach and keep my voice even.

"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." My eyes narrowed.

She smiled apologetically.

"So, as long as I'm being... not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.

"That sounds about right."

I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now.

"What are you thinking?" she asked curiously.

I looked up into those deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual, blurted out the truth.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

Her jaw tightened, but she kept her smile in place with some effort.

"Are you having any luck with that?" she asked in an offhand tone.

"Not too much," I admitted.

She laughed. "What are your theories?"

I blushed. I had been vacillating during the last month between Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker. There was no way I was going to own up to that.

"Won't you tell me?" she asked, tilting her head, her long bronze waves falling with it to one side with a shockingly tempting smile.

I shook my head. "Too embarrassing."

"That's really frustrating, you know," she complained.

"No," I disagreed quickly, my eyes narrowing, "I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all - just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could mean... now, why would that be frustrating?"

She grimaced.

"Or better," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things - from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and she never explained any of that, either, even after she promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating."

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?" (Coming from you? Bold.)

"I don't like double standards."

We stared at each other, unsmiling.

She glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, she snickered.

"What?"

"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you - he's debating whether to come break up our fight." She snickered again.

"I don't know who you're talking about," I said frostily. "But I'm sure you're wrong, anyway."

"I'm not. I told you, most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course."

"Yes. Except for you." Her mood shifted suddenly; eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is." (I'm retitling every chapter as mood swing because that's literally all this book is.)

I had to look away from the intensity of her stare. I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it.

"Aren't you hungry?" she asked, distracted.

"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that my stomach was already full - of butterflies. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front of her.

"No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand her expression - it looked like she was enjoying some private joke.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second of hesitation.

She was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want." (I would have been like nvm fuck you)

"It's not much," I assured her.

She waited, guarded but curious.

"I just wondered... if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared." I looked at the lemonade bottle as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my pinkie finger.

"That sounds fair." She was pressing her lips together to keep from laughing when I looked up.

"Thanks."

"Then can I have one answer in return?" she demanded.

"One."

"Tell me one theory."

Whoops. "Not that one."

"You didn't qualify, you just promised one answer," she reminded me.

"And you've broken promises yourself," I reminded her back.

"Just one theory - I won't laugh."

"Yes, you will." I was positive about that.

She looked down, and then glanced up at me through long black lashes, her ocher eyes scorching.

"Please?" she breathed, leaning toward me.

I blinked, my mind going blank. Oh my God, how did she do that?

"What?" I asked, dazed.

"Please tell me just one little theory." Her eyes still smoldered at me.

"Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?" Was she a hypnotist, too? Or was I just a hopeless pushover?

"That's not very creative," she scoffed.

"I'm sorry, that's all I've got," I said, miffed.

"You're not even close," she teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope."

"And no radioactivity?"

"None."

"Dang," I sighed.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," she chuckled.

"You're not supposed to laugh, remember?"

She struggled to compose her face.

"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned her.

"I wish you wouldn't try." Her was serious again.

"Because... ?"

"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the villain?" She smiled playfully, but her eyes were impenetrable.

"Oh," I said, as several things she'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."

"Do you?" Her face was abruptly severe, as if she were afraid that she'd accidentally said too much.

"You're dangerous?" I guessed, my pulse quickening as I intuitively realized the truth of my own words. She was dangerous. She'd been trying to tell me that all along.

She just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion I couldn't comprehend.

"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."

"You're wrong." Her voice was almost inaudible. She looked down, stealing my bottle lid and then spinning it on its side between her fingers. I stared, wondering why I didn't feel afraid. She meant what she was saying - that was obvious. But I just felt anxious, on edge... and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was near her.

The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.

I jumped to my feet. "We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today," she said, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." She smiled up at me, but her eyes were still troubled.

"Well, I'm going," I was far too big a coward to risk getting caught.

She turned her attention back to her makeshift top. "I'll see you later, then."

I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door - with a last glance confirming that she hadn't moved a centimeter.

As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap. So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped.

I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela were staring at me. Mike looked resentful; Angela looked surprised, and slightly awed.

Mr. Banner came in the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Mike's table, telling him to start passing them around the class.

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists seemed ominous to me. "The first should be an indicator card," he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator -" he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "- and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." He began at Mike's table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet..." He grabbed Mike's hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger. Oh no. Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach heaving.

"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." He sounded proud of himself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission - I have slips at my desk."

He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my cheek against the cool black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth.

"Bella, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, sir," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when I had the chance. (Relatable content alert!)

"Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called.

I didn't have to look up to know that it would be Mike who volunteered.

"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Yes," I whispered. Just let me get out of here, I thought. I'll crawl. (I have a nauseating fear of needles & blood and even I feel like she's being theatrical)

Mike seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way out of the classroom.

Mike towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner was watching, I stopped.

"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged.

He helped me sit on the edge of the walk.

"And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket," I warned. I was still so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes. That seemed to help a little.

"Wow, you're green, Bella," Mike said.

"Bella?" a different voice called from the distance.

No! Please let me be imagining that horribly familiar voice.

"What's wrong - is she hurt?" Her voice was closer now, and she sounded upset. I wasn't imagining it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up.

Mike seemed stressed. "I think she's fainted. I don't know what happened, she didn't even stick her finger."

"Bella." Elisabeth's voice was right beside me, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No," I groaned. "Go away."

She laughed.

"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained in a defensive tone, "but she wouldn't go any farther."

"I'll take her," Elisabeth said. I could hear the smile still in her voice. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed to do it."

Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Elisabeth had scooped me up in her arms, as easily as if I weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and ten.

"Put me down!" Please, please let me not vomit on her. She was walking before I was finished talking.

"Hey!" Mike called, already ten paces behind us.

Elisabeth ignored him. "You look awful," she told me, grinning. (It's so irritating how RUDE he was, like at any given time)

"Put me back on the sidewalk," I moaned. The rocking movement of her walk was not helping. She held me gingerly, at first supporting all my weight with just her arms then pulling me closer and quickening her pace as Mike tried to catch up - either way it didn't seem to bother her.

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" she asked. This seemed to entertain her.

I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again, leaning my head on her chest and fought the nausea with all my strength, clamping my lips together.

"And not even your own blood," she continued, enjoying herself.

I don't know how she opened the door while carrying me, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we were inside.

"Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.

"She fainted in Biology," Elisabeth explained.

I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Elisabeth was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of her to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Elisabeth swung me into the room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one cot. Then she moved down toward the end of the cot and sat, putting my feet in her lap. Her eyes were bright, excited.

"She's just a little faint," she reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."

She stifled a laugh.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.

"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I admitted. Elisabeth coughed to hide another laugh.

"You can go back to class now," she told her.

"I'm supposed to stay with her." She looked at me saying this with such assured authority that - even though she pursed her lips - the nurse didn't argue it further.

"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then bustled out of the room.

"You were right," I moaned, letting my eyes close.

"I am usually - but about what in particular this time?"

"Ditching is healthy." I practiced breathing evenly.

"You scared me for a minute there," she admitted after a pause while playing with the top of my sock. Her tone made it sound like she was confessing a weakness. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

"Ha." I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every minute.

"Honestly - I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder."

"Poor Mike. I'll bet he's mad."

"He hates me," Elisabeth said cheerfully.

"You can't know that," I argued, but then I wondered suddenly if she could.

"I saw his face - I could tell."

"How did you see me? I thought you were ditching." I was almost fine now, though the nausea would probably pass faster if I'd eaten something for lunch. On the other hand, maybe it was lucky my stomach was empty.

"I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response - it surprised me.

I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her hand.

"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," she added.

"I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. Just a little ringing in my ears, no spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should.

I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

I hopped down to free up the cot for the next invalid.

I handed the compress back to the nurse. "Here, I don't need this."

And then Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Elisabeth and I drew back against the wall to give them room.

"Oh no," Elisabeth muttered. "Go out to the office, Bella."

I looked up at her, bewildered.

"Trust me - go."

I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could feel Elisabeth right behind me.

"You actually listened to me." She was stunned.

"I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose. Lee wasn't sick from watching other people, like me.

"People can't smell blood," she contradicted. (I hate liars)

"Well, I can - that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust... and salt."

She was staring at me with an unfathomable expression.

"What?" I asked.

"It's nothing."

Mike came through the door then, glancing from me to Elisabeth. The look he gave Elisabeth confirmed what she'd said about loathing. He looked back at me, his eyes glum.

"You look better," he accused.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket," I warned him again.

"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess... So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While he spoke, he flashed another glare toward Elisabeth, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.

I tried to sound as even as possible. "I said I was in."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Elisabeth again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.

"I'll be there," I promised.

"See you in Gym then," he said, smiling moving toward the door.

"K," I replied. He looked at me once more, his round face now slightly pouting, as he walked slowly through the door. A swell of annoyance washed over me. I pondered seeing his face again... in Gym.

"Gym," I groaned.

"I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Elisabeth moving to my side, but she spoke now in my ear. "Go sit down and look pale," she muttered.

That wasn't a challenge; I was always pale, and my recent swoon had left a light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells always exhausted me.

I heard her speaking softly at the counter.

"Ms. Cope?"

"Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.

"Bella has Gym next hour, and I don't think she feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?" Her voice was like melting honey. I could imagine how much more overwhelming her eyes would be.

"Do you need to be excused, too, Elisabeth?" Ms. Cope fluttered. Why couldn't I do that?

"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With her back to the receptionist, her expression became sarcastic.

"I'll walk."

I stood carefully, and I was still fine. She held the door for me, her smile polite but her eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice - the first time I'd enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky - as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.

"Thanks," I said as she followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."

"Anytime." She was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" I was hoping she would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn't picture her loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; she didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping that she might gave me the first twinge of enthusiasm I'd felt for the outing.

"Where are you all going, exactly?" She was still looking ahead, expressionless.

"Down to La Push, to First Beach." I studied her face, trying to read it. Her eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally.

She glanced down at me from the corner of her eye, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."

I sighed. "I just invited you."

"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap." Her eyes danced; she was enjoying the idea more than she should.

"Mike-schmike." I muttered, preoccupied by the way she'd said "you and I." I liked it more than I should.

We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck. Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked, outraged. She was gripping a fistful of my jacket in one hand. (Abusive gf content!)

I was confused. "I'm going home."

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" Her voice was still indignant.

"What condition? And what about my truck?" I complained.

"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." She was towing me toward her car now, pulling me by my jacket. I planted my feet down, stomping. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward She'd probably just drag me along anyway if I did.

"Let go!" I insisted. She ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then she finally freed me - I stumbled against the passenger door.

"You are so pushy!" I grumbled. (Books like this genuinely did normalize abuse in my young eyes, like what the fuck is thissss)

"It's open," was all she responded, getting in on the driver's side.

"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!" I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I'd never put my hood up, so my hair was dripping down my back.

She lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in, Bella."

I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the truck before she could catch me. I had to admit, they weren't good.

"I'll just drag you back," she threatened, guessing my plan. (Threats are so fun and cool)

I tried to maintain what dignity I could as I got into her car. I wasn't very successful - I looked like a half-drowned cat and my boots squeaked.

"This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly.

She didn't answer. She fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As she pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give the silent treatment - my face in full pout mode - but then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions.

"Clair de Lune?" I asked, surprised.

"You know Debussy?" She said not actually asking. (Who doesn't?)

"Not well," I admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house - I only know my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." She stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.

"What is your mother like?" she asked me suddenly.

I glanced over to see her studying me with curious eyes.

"She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," I said. She raised her eyebrows.

"I got my dad's genes. She's more outgoing than I am, and braver. She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend." I stopped. Talking about her was making me depressed.

"How old are you, Bella?" Her voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn't imagine. She'd stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.

"I'm seventeen," I responded, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen."

Her tone was reproachful; it made me laugh.

"What?" she asked, curious again.

"My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I laughed, and then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult." I paused for a second. "You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," I noted.

She made a face and changed the subject.

"So why did your mother marry Phil?"

I was surprised she would remember the name; I'd mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.

"My mother... she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she's crazy about him." I shook my head. The attraction was a mystery to me.

"Do you approve?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" I countered. "I want her to be happy... and he is who she wants."

"That's very generous... I wonder," she mused.

"What?"

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" She was suddenly intent, her eyes searching mine. (Why is this what this 100 plus year old being thinking about rn, like why are you SO hung up on this one)

"I-I think so," I stuttered. "But she's the parent, after all. It's a little bit different."

"No one too scary then," she teased.

I grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?"

"That's one definition, I suppose."

"What's your definition?"

But she ignored my question and asked me another. "Do you think that I could be scary?" She raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened her face. (You literally are, you're a textbook abuser)

I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over better. I decided to go with the truth. "Hmm... I think you could be, if you wanted to."

"Are you frightened of me now?" The smile vanished, and her heavenly face was suddenly serious.

"No." But I answered too quickly. The smile returned.

"So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked to distract her. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

She was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you?" I verified.

"Yes."

I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died many years ago." Her tone was matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way she spoke of them.

"Yes." She smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky."

"I know I am."

"And your brothers and sisters?"

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of her car.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." She grinned at me.

"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." I sighed.

She laughed, and there was an edge to her laughter.

"Have fun at the beach... good weather for sunbathing." She glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment wasn't too apparent in my voice.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.

"Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't think I fooled her, though. A smile was playing around the edges of her lips.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" She turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of her burning gold eyes.

I nodded helplessly.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So... try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?" She smiled crookedly.

The helplessness had faded as she spoke. I glared at her.

"I'll see what I can do," I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. I slammed the door behind me with excessive force.

She was still smiling as she drove away.