A/N: This is a quickie, but a necessary transition. Thanks to Hannah for getting it back to me all speedy-like. Much love to my homegirls who regularly review. Ya'll are the reason I waste my time with this tripe. To the rest of you, who read and DON'T review... well, I won't say it. Cause that'd be bitchy. But get off your ass and review already, dammit.
Not mine. Yours.
Chapter Six
As it turns out, teachers really don't like it when you walk into class thirty minutes late. It was only photography, and Angela had covered for me by saying I had spilled something on myself at lunch and had to go home and change, but Mr. Jacobson glared at me anyway, scowling furiously until I reached my seat. Still, Edward Cullen was worth it.
"How'd it go?" Angela asked quietly, leaning towards me across the aisle.
"Hard to say," I replied after a moment.
"Did you kill him?"
"No."
"Did you fuck him?"
I blushed furiously.
"No."
"Well, then what did you do?" she insisted.
"We... talked. Kind of. Really, we didn't accomplish much. Just that we're 'friends' now. I guess... I dunno. I got distracted. It's hard for me to look at him and concentrate at the same time."
"Should've asked him to take his shirt off," she suggested with a wink and a leer.
"Yeah. I don't think that would have helped, but I'll try to remember for next time."
Mr. Jacobson caught sight of us whispering in the back and cleared his throat loudly, shooting us a threatening look. No more talking. Angie and I nodded back at the teacher mutely, staring straight ahead for the remainder of the class.
"You want to come over after school?" I asked her as we walked out of the building at the end of the period.
"I'm helping Ben with the newspaper today," she replied apologetically. "I'll call you after, though. I expect a detailed account of what happened between you guys."
"Like you could stop me from telling you everything anyway," I laughed, waving goodbye as she headed off for her last class and I to mine.
Pre-calc was, well, pre-calc. Not the best way to end my day, but certainly vastly superior to last year's gym class. I sat next to Eric Yorkie and listened politely to stories of summer at his Uncle's house in Seattle until I noted, with mild interest, that Alice Cullen had chosen the desk next to mine. I had never really paid much attention to her before, choosing to fixate on Edward rather than considering his family. Besides, his older brother had looked so intimidating. Alice, however, didn't look remotely scary, and so I turned to her when she sat, offering her a polite smile and a nod, acknowledging her presence next to me.
"I'm Isabella," I offered on impulse when she smiled back.
"Alice Cullen," she replied enthusiastically, widening her smile to toothpaste commercial proportions and offering me her hand. "We never got to meet last year."
I took her hand and shook it, a bit surprised at the chill of her skin but trying not to show any reaction. Really, she was Edward's sister, so the similarity in body temperature shouldn't have come as that much of a shock. Still...
"You're right. We didn't," I responded, surprised by her comment, unsure how I felt about it.
"Sorry about that," she said, her expression sympathetic for some reason. "We really wanted to meet you, but--" She cut herself off there, covering her mouth in a manner that suggested she'd said something she shouldn't have.
I was about to ask her what she'd meant, but class began and I didn't get the opportunity to talk to her after that.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"So, Bells how was your first day as a senior?" Charlie asked conversationally between mouthfuls of fried chicken at dinner.
"Spectacular," was my dry response. He had been concentrating on his plate so he missed the eye roll, but it was definitely there.
"That's good."
Silence.
God bless Charlie and his simplicity.
Renee was not so simple. Her first day inquisition began immediately after I finished washing the dishes and continued for a good hour, nearly killing the battery in my cell phone and making my jaw ache from the prolonged chatter. I described my outfit, my hairstyle (she was thrilled), my makeup job (equally thrilled), my classes, my teachers, every clever interaction between Angie and me (minus the profanity and innuendo, of course), and, finally, if I thought I'd met anyone. She's asked me that question every year at this time, with the same hopeful smile in her voice. Every year I've answered in the negative, and, while my answer to this year's question was the same as it always had been, it did mark the first time I'd ever lied about it. Because I had met someone. And his name was Edward Cullen.
After ending my little chat with Renee, I tackled about an hour's worth of math homework, followed by my English reading, followed by a chapter outline for history. It was going on 11 o'clock by the time I was finished, and my eyes were blurring and my neck was killing me from hunching over my desk. Sighing at the fact that I was keeping the hours of my 80-year-old grandmother, I grabbed my much-abused cell and sent Angie a quick text asking if she'd like to meet before school tomorrow and talk, since I was way too tired to do so now. She agreed, of course, supportive superhero that she is, offering to bring the coffee if I'd bring the donuts, and I changed for bed, glancing out my window for a moment to study the trees outside.
It had become my nightly ritual, though I didn't know why. My gaze was always drawn there, though. It was the first place I looked in the morning and the last place at night. And, every day, without fail, for some reason that I couldn't comprehend, I'd think I saw something. Just out of the corner of my eye. Just beyond my peripheral vision. Some sort of flicker of motion. But I'd turn my head, seeking out the disturbance along the forest's edge. And it would be gone.
Tonight was no exception. I stretched languidly, grimacing as I listened to my spine popping, working out the tension that had accumulated in my body over the stress of the day, eyeing the trees with my usual fascination. It was dark and shadowy outside, with just a sliver of a moon and thick, black clouds obscuring the stars above. A typical night in Forks. A typical night. As ever, something moved outside. I didn't know what it was. I didn't know if it was anything. But it moved, just outside of my eye line, and I jerked my head towards it, trying to catch it, trying to figure out what it was. The clouds broke for a moment, bathing the treetops in weak moonlight, and I squinted, craning my neck, trying to see... but it was gone. Gone in a barely visible blur of colors as it zipped into the trees. An animal. It had to be.
I climbed into bed, curling up on my side and drawing the covers over me, burrowing into their warmth. It had been a long day. And who knows what tomorrow would bring.
Eyes closing, consciousness drifting away, my last thought of the day brought me back to that line of trees just beyond my house. Back to that bit of motion that fascinated me so. That faint streak of color as it raced back into the cover of the woods. It had never occurred to me to fear it. I assumed it was some animal. Never distinguishable but always there. And as I replayed the memory, concentrating on the movement, trying to slow it down, I was able to pinpoint one detail before sleep took hold of me.
A shock of unruly copper hair.
A/N: You read it. Now review it. Hit the button.
