Disclaimer: The Twilight saga and all characters therein are the creation of Stephenie Meyer. No profit is being made from this fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter Four
Hints
By mid-November I was thoroughly over the high school thing. I sat in computer class, idly tapping through the FBI's mainframe. I needed to make sure they weren't on to me. I'd made minor history earlier this month: it was an election year, and to prove how easily manipulated the voting system was, I'd hacked into the results computer of the New York Senate race.
For three hours on election day (until I went in and fixed it back for them), the US Senator from New York was listed as "Your Mom."
Nope, the FBI had nothing on Morphette. I was zipping my way over to the CIA when Mr. Zuchman stepped toward me, lurking. I extricated myself from the system with seconds to spare. He stopped and leaned toward me. His breath smelled like stale coffee. "Have you completed your assignment yet?"
I didn't know why he always picked on me. "Yes."
"Well, let's see it."
I called up the homepage I'd designed. I'd used Esme's restoration house as inspiration: the font was dripping blood, there was a flying bat on the page using a flash animation, and I'd added haunted house sound effects. It was wonderfully tacky.
Mr. Zuchman turned his mouth down. "That's a lot of clutter."
"I just did what you told us." He had, in fact, told us to choose a theme for our website.
Mr. Zuchman moved on without saying anything. He irritated me to no end. He was slow and uninspiring. I could be doing so much more with this class… I hated to be wasting my time on something so elementary as webpage building. And computer languages? I knew them all. I guessed it was too much to hope for, that I would be challenged in high school.
As soon as the teacher had moved on, I sent an invitation to Jacob's computer across the room, and we jumped into a game of Warcraft Six.
"Attention, everyone," Mr. Zuchman droned, half an hour later.
"Blast," I muttered. I had almost eliminated Jacob's orc forces. He sent me an in-game taunt. "War does not determine who is right, only who is left."
I scowled.
"Better exit. Zuch's behind u."
Disappointed, I closed the game. Mr. Zuchman passed by me and stood at his own computer console at the front of the room. "Now that most of you have completed your first assignment, we'll be moving on to the next project, which is to write a simple computational program using C language. This will be a partnered assignment."
I sat up in my chair. Please let us choose our own partners…
"I have already assigned partners. What I don't need are pairs of giggling friends."
Please, partner me with Jacob, I thought, knowing that the odds were decreasing.
If only I had a vampire power of altering people's thoughts.
Mr. Zuchman began reading out his list. "Ruh-ness-mee Cullen and Ryan Simmons."
Well, blast. And who the heck is Ryan Simmons?
Mr. Zuchman called out more names and I waited… "Jacob Black and Abigail Ullman." Finished, he said, "Everyone pull up chairs to whichever partner's desk you choose. I've emailed the instructions to your accounts. You may begin." He pulled a pair of headphones over his ears and slumped down into his chair.
I stood up, looking for someone named Ryan. Jacob approached me and leaned down to whisper in my ear. "Can't you change his assignments with your computer wizard skills?"
"I think he'd notice now. And that's Abigail," I nodded toward the blonde girl with her moneyed earrings.
Jacob's hand brushed against the small of my back as he stepped past me. The pit of my stomach tingled. Maybe I was hungry.
"Are you, uh… Ren…Renee…"
I turned and saw a skinny boy with buzz-cut brown hair. "Call me Nessie, everyone does. You're Ryan?"
He nodded, eyes wide.
From the next console, I heard a simpering laugh. Peering over, I saw Abby sitting, breasts pushed forward, looking up at Jacob from under her eyelashes.
A searing knife of jealousy tore through me and I had to choke back a growl. Mine.
Now where did that come from?
Jacob raised his head toward me and I sat back down fast, unwilling to let him see the hurt in my face. What was my problem? Girls flirted with Jacob a lot. I didn't like it, but he never returned their attentions.
Still, my diamond-hard nails dug into the plastic of my chair, leaving half-moon crescents dotted along the side.
The rest of the period was a painful attempt by Ryan Simmons to speak in my presence; I took it he was shy. He was also not very good at programming and so I just wrote the program on my own as he stuttered out questions.
Every once in awhile, Abby giggled. I didn't need to be Edward to hear what she was thinking about Jacob. I, on the other hand, couldn't help but think about how her blood might taste… how unappealing she would be if she were lifeless and cold… the ease with which I could snuff out her shallow life… but I stopped myself there. If my thoughts went further, my father would give me a lecture about how it was wrong to fantasize about murder.
The final bell was about to ring when Abby whispered to Jacob. "So, I'm having a party next weekend at my house. My dad's away on business. Think you can come?"
I held my breath as Jacob hesitated.
"Sure, maybe," he said.
What did that mean?
"Can I bring someone?" he asked.
My mouth was the shape of triumph.
But then Abby said, "Of course! As long as it's not a girl." I could hear the batting of her thick mascara eyelashes against her cheek.
"Maybe I'll bring my friend Ed," said Jacob. I could hear the laugh in his voice. He had to be kidding.
"If your friend is as cute as you are, it'll be a great party. Hope to see you there," Abby said as the bell rang and she stood up, hip cocked, lips pursed. "Bye, Jake."
I could smell the overwhelming citrus of Clinique Happy perfume in her wake. Well, fine. If he wants to go to a party at the house of some… (my mind supplied a not-very-nice word)… that's his business. But there was that other, deeper part of me that said, No. He's mine. No one else's. A fierce possession, put on the defensive.
As we walked together down the hallway, we ran into my parents – I mean, Bella and Edward – and I could see that Edward had been listening to all of this. He didn't say anything, just took Bella's hand and smiled knowingly.
So unfair. I would have to ask him what, precisely, Abby Ullman had in mind for my Jacob. I didn't think I'd like the answer, though.
Later that night, after Jake and I had beat Emmett and Rosalie at Pictionary, and eaten dinner, and Jake had left, I sat on the piano bench next to Edward and plucked at the keys. I touched his arm and wondered.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Half the girls in that school think the mongrel is a genuine, studly bad boy." Edward's voice was full of amusement.
Great.
"I assure you, there is nothing in his thoughts toward any of them. I hope you realize he wouldn't look twice at any of those girls."
Even looking once is bad enough.
Edward turned to me, his eyes keen. There was something in them I couldn't quite identify, a confirmation or a worry or a secret.
What?
"Nothing."
Dad… do you think you could go with him to the party?
"I could," Edward said. "What makes you think Jacob would even go?" His hands danced over the keys, the opening chords of what he called Jacob's Wolfony.
It just seems like it might help us… fit in better, or something. Like Mom said we should. She said that in Forks, the more isolated we were, the more people noticed us. She did, when she was human.
"Yes, she noticed me," he said. "Because she was my mate. And trust me, no girl is going to notice Jacob in so powerful a way. It would be impossible."
Oh, really! My sarcastic thought made Edward stop playing.
"Really." His mouth opened as though he was about to say something else, but he turned back to the keys and started on Beethoven. "But I'll go to the party, if he goes. Just to keep an eye on things for you."
I knew my dad found joy in keeping Jacob in line. I think it was for my sake. He wouldn't want a bad influence on me. But in that moment as I leaned over and kissed Edward on the cheek, I couldn't have been more grateful for him.
For a week we had a nice streak of clouds and rain, but then it had been clear for the past six days. All of the Cullens were home with "highly contagious strep throat", according to the school district. Jacob and I had to attend, though, and every day I lugged home the piles of missed homework for my "siblings". I thought it was unfair that I had to slog through my days at school while everybody else frolicked in the sunshine, but I didn't complain… too much, anyway.
The worst of it was all the talk about Abby Ullman's party. Most of the students whispered about it in longing tones, since they were not invited. A few spoke of it like an inside joke: the athletic boys, the cheerleaders, the edgy guys who wore leather and (I could smell it around their edges) took drugs. Abby probably thought Jacob was one of those types, dangerously cool. How funny.
I wondered if Abby would like Jacob as much if she knew he ate raw meat on a regular basis.
Or if she knew he shapeshifted into a hirsute killer wolf-monster.
Several ambitious girls were planning to crash the party once all the guests were drunk, and no one would notice if they were invited. I heard them whispering about it in the bathrooms between classes.
A lot of the gossip was about Jacob. "He's so hot," they said. "He's so built." "How do you think he got those muscles? Does he work out? Does he use supplements? I wish I knew his secret." "I heard he's independent. He lives at a boarding house. No parents." "He's gorgeous."
Jacob, meanwhile, got a week's worth of detention for talking back to his math teacher. So I made sure to get caught passing a note in my French class, and got detention to match his. I spent the periods playing footsie with him under the table and compulsively checking my email.
"Figures you would get detention on the one sunny week," I grumbled on Thursday.
"I try my hardest."
"Maybe if you didn't wear so much black, Black."
"You think it makes me look dangerous?" He gave me a wicked arch of a grin.
"I think it makes you stand out. Like a red sports car on the highway. The kind the authorities like to notice."
"Hey, I can't help that I'm devastatingly handsome and rugged." He pretended to buff his nails on his collar.
"Ah, well. Alice says it'll be cloudy tomorrow. Everyone will be back." I sighed. "I can't wait."
It had gotten a bit weird in the lunchroom with just Jacob and me at our table. By the third day without my family, several outcast types had edged their way to sitting with us. Well-versed in teen movies about ugly ducklings, I'd tried to make conversation with them, hoping that there was a gem in the rough. But, no, they were just as unpleasant as anyone: bitter toward the rest of the school, slow-minded, and one of them (a girl) was a stoner who smelled very bad.
Thinking of our unwanted lunch guests earlier that day, I whispered to Jacob, "I don't think I like people much."
"Why? No one's been mean to you, have they?" There was a threat in his voice.
I touched his arm. Not exactly. I don't know. It's just that I haven't made any friends. No one seems to want to talk to me. The girls are rude and boys just stutter a lot.
Jacob barked out a laugh, which made the detention supervisor glare.
"Ness. It's because of the way you look."
What's wrong with the way I look? Is it my hair? No matter how hard I try, it just goes into curls, not jagged and fashion-y…
"I know why," said Jacob softly. He reached out and took a lock of my hair between his fingers. "It's because you're so beautiful."
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
Then I remembered we were in detention and I broke the gaze. The prettier you are, the more other girls dislike you. Rose warned me about this. She would know, girls hate her.
Jacob said, "I can think of a lot of reasons to hate Miss Mirror, Mirror on the Wall. But I guess Rosalie's right about girls in general. I don't get any of you. You all hate each other for these things you can't even help. Guys, see, we'll just have a fistfight and get it over with."
"I feel sorry for anyone in a fistfight with you," I said aloud.
Jacob smirked.
"You two! Quiet!" the detention monitor hissed.
I snuck my phone out of my pocket and checked my email. I had one new message and it was from… PeuChen91? My cyber friend from Brazil? Curious, I opened it. It said only one word: "Mendel."
Weird. Maybe it was the handle of a new player in our Dungeons and Dragons game. Shrugging, I grabbed Jacob's hand under the table and shared my thoughts, knowing he had to be quiet. I teased him with images of a delicious dinner, prime rib and potatoes, and I heard his stomach rumble. I taunted him with an image of him phased as a wolf and me running off with his spare clothes.
He growled low in his throat.
Quickly, I released his hand. I could feel my mind wandering to what he might look like as a human without the clothes I'd stolen in my imagination. Inappropriate, Ness, I admonished myself. It's Jacob, for heaven's sake!
But I wasn't related to Jacob. This fact had been rearing its head a lot in my mind.
"You're all dismissed," said the teacher at the front, and I gathered my books. Jacob offered to carry them and I let him. It made me feel special to be the girl whose books he carried.
The only benefit of being the lonely Cullen in school was that I got to drive my new car. I'd been picking up Jacob every morning on my way to school, and then dropping him off after dinners at my house… in fact, driving everywhere, every chance I got. "Let's go to the haunted house," I said, knowing it was half an hour of driving.
"Okay, but we've got to stop and get some food on the way," Jacob said. "I'm so hungry I'm about to fall over."
We went through a drive-through, where Jacob ordered half the menu and the guy at the window gawped at my Jaguar, and then we were speeding off through the woods toward Esme's abandoned project.
We'd been spending a lot of time there. Jacob loved to run through the woods as a wolf, and sometimes while I worked on the Spider 3000 – my secret birthday gift – he sprawled out on the antique bed and did his homework. Sometimes we did homework together. I'd tacked up some curtains in the room and gotten a new bedspread, because the old one was moth-eaten, and we moved a table and a couple chairs in there, too. The room had a grunge-techno feeling that appealed to me. It was a contrast to my pretty decorated bedroom at home.
Today I sat down at my machine and jumped into the password-protected chatroom where my internet buddies hung out. Silvius was there and I asked him if he'd heard anything from PeuChen91. He hadn't. I asked him if Mendel meant anything to him, and he asked me if I meant genetics.
That was such a broad definition, though. What would Mendel's genetics have to do with anything?
Then Devi was online, and she typed to me that some hacker named Mendel had written a Trojan horse program that had stolen a bunch of government medical records. We figured this must be who PeuChen91 meant, and then I was on the hunt, sniffing down leads, following keystrokes and the electronic trails through the contortions of the Internet.
I loved this sort of thing. The best part about the Web was that the challenge was unlimited; there was always someone who thought they were smarter than you.
By the end of my session, I'd learned that Mendel was from somewhere in South America, based on his occasional use of Brazilian-Portuguese slang. Did my friend PeuChen91 know him? I send her an email asking, "Who is Mendel?" I hoped she would tell me more.
I'd also learned that Mendel was all about the medical stuff. He'd been traced by the slowpokes at the FBI a couple years ago while trying to break into the mainframe at the Centers for Disease Control, in Atlanta. Then he must have gotten better, because after that, there was nothing in the law enforcement records about him.
The only other traces of Mendel were memberships of genealogy websites and a few random, almost bizarre organizations, like the Sons of Confederate Veterans and the National Mental Institution Reparations Society.
The computer beeped and I opened up my daily news feed. This was a mix of news from around the world, with the stories ordered according to relevance. After the Cullens and the wolves had dealt with that vampire Victoria and her misdeeds in Seattle before I was born, we all tried to keep an eye on mysterious deaths and disappearances.
There was a story about a high profile corporate headhunter in London who'd gone missing six months ago. His parents had issued another appeal. I scanned the article. "Govinda Singh… son of Indian immigrants…highest-paid talent finder in the City of London… unmarried… vanished after a corporate party held at an upscale restaurant… last seen with a stunning blonde, probable girlfriend, no other leads…" It didn't seem to mean anything.
The rest of the news was even less interesting: a missing six-year-old in Tennessee whose father had been embittered with the divorce; in Oregon, parents worried about a young man with schizophrenia who'd wandered off, claiming to be hearing voices; in Minnesota, an old lady with Alzheimer's vanished from her nursing home. No unexplained murders.
Yawning, I turned to Jacob, who was stretched on his back on the bed, eyes closed. "Ready to go?" It was twilight outside.
"Sure," he said without opening his eyes.
"Come on, lazy wolf," I said, leaping onto his stomach cross-wise.
"Ooof!" he said, but then he seized me by the arms and swung me off to his side. Our arms were touching. I felt flushed, although that didn't make sense, seeing as we had the same body temperature.
Then, my stomach rumbled.
Jacob sat up. "Hungry?"
I guess I am, I thought to him. I jumped up and opened a window, sticking my head out and sniffing. "There's a few deer out there. Shall we?"
"I'll go with you. I already ate, though."
"Oh, yeah. That restaurant'll have to close early tonight, seeing as all their food is gone."
"I'm helping to support the economy," Jacob said. "Race you."
After I'd drained two deer of their blood, I felt better. We sped back toward town in the graceful Jaguar. Jacob fiddled with the radio until we came across an alternative rock station. I dropped him off at his boarding house, an old brick building with fourteen large bedrooms, a common room, and a kitchen. It was filled with undergrads from the University of Rochester and a smattering of graduate students. Strange to think that Jacob, the high school student, was technically the oldest among them, at thirty-three. He was double my age.
I tried not to think about that as he squeezed my shoulder goodbye and disappeared through the front door of his building. Age wasn't an issue for immortals. My dad was a hundred years older than my mom. Carlisle was hundreds older than Esme.
And they were all couples. Jacob and I were not. We were friends.
I punched the gas and sped towards home. I met Rosalie and Emmett in his Hummer coming down the drive; they paused to roll down the window. "We're off hunting in the Adirondacks," Rosalie said.
"Oh! Have a nice time."
"Rich in black bears, that area," said Emmett. "We have a cabin up there, you know. We need some alone time…"
"Emmett!" Rosalie admonished, kissing him on the neck.
Ugh. "See ya," I said, wrinkling my nose at them. I pulled the Jaguar up into the detached garage. It felt so nice to have my own car, my own independent way around town. I needed to start doing shopping and stuff by myself. My family was great, but sometimes… I just liked to be alone. Especially when they acted all couple-y. It was no fun being a ninth wheel.
I headed up to my room, pausing to knock on Jasper's door. "I printed this stuff out," I said, holding out the sheaf of news articles I'd brought from the haunted house. He always wanted my internet findings.
"Thanks, Ness." He riffled through them and his brow furrowed.
I touched his arm. I didn't see anything significant, but I don't have a lot of experience with vampire armies.
Jasper smiled. "No, this is good. Do you think you could get me a list of the names and occupations and ages of all missing persons cases that are internationally listed? Like from Interpol?"
I raised my eyebrows. "I could, yeah… but that's going to be a long list. At least a full tree's worth of paper." The government had severe restrictions on the amount of paper individuals were allowed to use; the lumber harvest regulations had devastated the economy back in Forks."Can we narrow down the parameters at all? How 'bout just the biologists?"
That was a famous trend – for years, around the world, biologists had been disappearing. The most notorious had been a geneticist named Saul Ferreira, who'd written a program to analyze every part of the human genome. He'd vanished while on vacation in the south of France. Carlisle had been acquainted with him before he went missing… but that was fifteen years ago. If you asked me, they'd all disappeared on purpose and formed some kind of freaky island, like in The Island of Dr. Moreau.
"I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, only that I'll know it when I find it." Jasper's mind worked that way, looking for tactical patterns in seemingly random events. I got it. It was like the way I saw the bones of code behind the screen of a computer.
"Are you thinking about another army?" I asked. "Because from what my mom and dad have told me about Victoria, she made herself obvious from the newborns hunting too many humans."
"Not an army, exactly. I don't know. More like… an intuition that I should be looking for something I can't put my finger on."
I wondered if Alice had had a vision. Tired of explaining myself aloud, I took Jasper's hand.
"No, not that she's told me."
Is everything all right?
"Everything's fine, really. I'm just being paranoid."
Is it because you still feel bad for leaving during that whole Volturi fiasco? Because no one blames you. You and Alice saved our butts. We wouldn't be able to do any of this without you. So don't feel like you're not doing a good job.
Jasper was reassured; he sent a wave of happy gratitude in my direction. "Thanks, Nessie. Maybe that's part of it. I don't know."
I'll get those lists. Maybe it'll come to you. I gave him a smile and skipped upstairs to get ready for bed. My bathroom and dressing room were on the third floor, and a spiral staircase in the dressing room led up to my bedroom. It really was a princess tower. I took a long hot bath, letting my hair float amongst the lavender-scented bubbles, and then washed and conditioned it with spa products. Even though our vampire hair was naturally healthy and shiny, Rosalie insisted the family use the best in hair care.
I curled up in a ball under my covers and watched the stars glitter outside my window until I fell into a deep sleep.
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