For the record, readers, there are many 'fat' references in this. I do not believe that 145 lbs is overweight. I myself am a healthy 150 and I know I am not overweight. But I'm just getting into her mentality. I realized how it may sound insulting as I was editing.
Anyway, now that that is out of the way, Sickening is updated, too. Hope you enjoy both - please start reviewing, guys. The ratio from people who read to people who give feedback is...depressing. Thank you to frickandfrack09 who has reviewed.
Stephenie Meyer owns everyone except Vivienne and the characters in her life you do not recognize. Please, oh please, don't sue me creator of my Universe!
Hope you enjoy :)
Chapter Five – Blood Type
I went through the door to English in a daze. I hadn't listened or tried to make as stealthy an entrance as I should have done because class had already started.
"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said with annoyance coating his words. I felt my face heat up as I hurried toward my seat near the back. It took me a long time to realize that Mike wasn't in his regular seat at my side; but at the end of class he and Eric had both loyally waited to walk to me to my next class – so I figured I wouldn't be treated like a leper. Mike seemed to become more like himself the more we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather this weekend. Apparently the rain was going to take a break and we would be able to have a clear beach trip. It wasn't as hard to sound eager, remembering that was where my mother grew. It was still depressing though, only because I knew what a real beach was.
The rest of the morning was a blur. It was difficult to believe that I hadn't just imaged what Edward had said, and the way his eyes had looked. Maybe it was just the way his eyes had been – so intense and serious. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I had confused with reality – that one seemed more likely than the idea that I actually appealed to him in any way, shape, or form.
So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see his face, to see if he had gone back to the cold, emotionless guy I'd known for the last few weeks, just to see if I had been woken up yet. And if he wasn't, I would be sure to ask him to pinch me.
Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans – Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and now they were all going together, completely unaware that it was part of a more selfish master plan. Well, maybe not selfish, but definitely self-avoidant.
Disappointment flooded through me when I saw that he was not at his regular table. His siblings were all there, but he was nowhere in sight. Had he gone home? I followed the still-babbling Jessica through the line, grabbing my only comfort foods. I grabbed an apple-juice, my comfort drink, and a bag of two bite brownies. Ah yes. This is why I'm busting the scale. My plans were to sit and sulk, cradling the juice like my first born child that Rumplestiltskin was about to rip away from my cold, weak fingers and hopefully I would –
"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica sang, finally breaking through my degrading thoughts. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today."
My head snapped up and around, looking for him. It took me a moment to play it smart and actually follow her eyes to see him sitting at an otherwise empty table across the cafeteria from where he normally sat with his siblings. Once he had caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for me to join him.
I looked around to see who he could possibly be referring to. When I caught his eyes again he merely nodded...and winked. Cue fishy face.
"I don't think I can breathe." I stated dumbly.
"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked, ignoring my statement. The level of shock in her voice was almost insulting, but I was far too distracted to care what she thought right now.
"He must need my help with Biology." I muttered for her benefit. "I-uh, I'm just going to go see what he wants. Talk to you later, Jess." I could feel her staring after me as I walked away.
When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him, very unsure of myself. I narrowed my eyes despite this uncertainty. "Yes?" I tried not to sound rude, but at the same time it was between rude or a strange, girlish waver in my voice. I chose to sound rude.
"Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling at my tone. I sat automatically. He still smiled. I was in the twilight zone. How could someone so beautiful be real? I was afraid that he might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and I would wake up.
He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
"Pinch me." I ordered, sliding my arm across the table to land in front of him. He chuckled, completely amused.
"And why would you want me to do that?"
"I made a bet with myself. I want to see which part of me won." He chuckled and raised an eyebrow, trying to understand what I meant by the statement.
"Right brain versus Left brain?"
"Logic versus Fantasy." I corrected. His hand pinched my arm, right on the top of my forearm, which happened to be bare. I shivered as the electricity struck again. He pulled back when it was done, putting his hand firmly under the table.
"Which won?" He asked lightly.
"That answer would be incriminating myself, leading me to plead the fifth." I smiled back. "Why the change of seating plan?"
"Well," he paused. "I decided as long as I was going to Hell, I might as well do it thoroughly." I waited for him to elaborate so what he had just said would make sense. He did no such thing.
"You lost me." I admitted, feeling my ears burn a bit. He must really think that I'm a moron.
"I know." He smiled again. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."
"They'll survive." I had been feeling their stares on my back the entire time – I could feel everyone's stares, the entire cafeteria – but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was sitting with Edward Cullen. It was literally like I was fulfilling my dreams.
"I may not give you back, though," he said with a wicked glint in his eyes. I swallowed thickly, not sure how bad the idea actually sounded. "You look worried," he laughed.
"No," I said, my voice breaking. "Surprised is probably a better definition...what brought this on?"
"I told you," he began, taking much more emphasis and care to each syllable. "I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." He was still smiling, but his eyes had turned back to their more serious state. I narrowed my eyes in confusion.
"Giving up?"
"Yes – giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now," he looked away from me, a smile no longer adorning his face, "and let the pieces fall where they may."
"And you lost me."
The beautiful and breathtaking smile reappeared. "I always say too much when I'm talking to you – that's one of the problems."
"Don't worry – I tend not to understand any of it." I mumbled wryly.
"I'm counting on that." I huffed, annoyed with his blatant lack of care for my feelings.
"So, in English-"
"French, if you prefer?" He taunted. I glared at him.
"So, in English, are we friends now?"
"Friends..." he mused, tasting the words to see how it sounded. I waited and watched his pensive pout turn into a grin. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his angel face, his eyes were serious and his warning was real. It was the first time I actually thought to heed it – but that didn't last long.
"You say that a lot," I mused myself, probably mimicking a pensiveness very similar to his own.
"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 all too clear." I grumbled, annoyed with the jab, yet again. He smiled apologetically.
"So, as long as I'm being...not smart, we'll try and be friends?" I summed up, trying not to sound too hopeful. The exchange was confusing me, but I was not yet put off.
"That sounds about right."
I looked down at my apple juice, wondering what I had needed it for. I did only buy it when I was upset and yet I was on cloud nine. I watched it, trying to remember what had upset me so much as to buy my version of alcohol, when he cocked his head in intrigue.
"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.
I looked up into his deep, gold eyes and became befuddled. As if he was dazzling me with his beauty. The first thing that came to mind was not what should have been said and yet it was all I could think of forming words around:
"I'm trying to figure out what you are."
His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort. "Are you having any luck with that?" He asked with a grind. I felt my ears burn.
"Do I ever have any luck?" He chuckled.
"What are your theories?"
"Nuh-uh." I said immediately. I had been jumping between many theories during the past month, anything between Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker, Clark Kent or maybe even Chuck Norris. There were no answers. "Way too embarrassing."
"That's really frustrating, you know." He complained with a frown. I raised an eyebrow.
"Is it?" I asked, sarcasm dripping. "I can't imagine why it would be. Just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic remarks specifically said to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean in the grand scheme of a now budding friendship...now, why would that be frustrating?"
He grimaced.
"Or better," I continued relentlessly, "say that person also did a wide range of paranormal things – from saving your life ignoring incomprehensible obstacles one day, to treating you like a pariah the next. Which, he refuses to even speak of – after he gave his word. That, also, would be extremely and unbearably frustrating, wouldn't it?"
"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"
"When it's deserved." We stared at each other, unsmiling, neither of us knowing how to continue – with hostility or with grace. He glanced over my shoulder and unexpectedly, he snickered.
"What?" I asked, all anger gone. There goes that temper he had just actually seemed intimidated by.
"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you – he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." He snickered again. I stuck my weak chin out, looking up towards the ceiling in annoyance.
"I don't know to whom you refer." I said frostily. "But I'm certain you are wrong."
"I'm not." He smiled, making me look at him. He had obviously heard the blatant lie in my voice. "I told you, most people are easy to read."
"Except for me." I elaborated, remembering his words and frustration. His smile widened.
"Yes. Except for you." He looked where I had currently been looking as he started to withdraw back into that mind of his. "I wonder why that is..."
I had to look away from the intensity of his eyes when they fixed back on me in confusion. Who knew what he was thinking at this point, but I was beginning to get unnerved by the probe. I screwed off he cap of my apple juice – my sign of panic – and I took a large gulp.
"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, looking at my bag of brownies. I tried not to blush - I didn't want to show him how I could devour them in one sitting.
"No. Aren't you?" I looked at the empty table in front of him.
"No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand his expression – something amused him, some private joke I didn't know. He had a few of those, it seemed. Now that I think about it, he smiled a lot. He laughed a lot...more so at me than in my direction, but I liked it anyway. It was beautiful and oddly comforting. It made me know that today was a day he wouldn't hate me.
"Can you do me a favour?" I blurted before I could stop myself. He was immediately wary.
"That depends on what you want."
"It's not much..." I assured him, going back to unscrewing my apple juice, but I did not drink it. Not yet, for I wasn't upset with his answer yet, only preparing myself for the scolding glance I was about to receive. He just waited curiously, and rigidly.
"I just wondered if next time you decide to ignore me for my own good you may go about the three step process of warning me first. You know, so I'm prepared." I looked at my apple juice as I spoke, tracing the circle of the opening with my index.
"That sounds fair." When I looked up, he was pressing his lips together to stop himself from laughing. I began to screw the cap to my apple juice back on.
"Thanks." I muttered, making sure all my attention was on the cap so it would be harder for him to see my burning cheeks.
"Then can I have one answer in return?" I looked up at him, faltering in my movement. My mind reeled with what he could ask and yet, my head nodded.
"Tell me one theory."
"Nope. You have dialled an incorrect number; please try your call again."
"You didn't specify, you just promised one answer." I bit my lip, beginning to unscrew the cap as I felt my resolve crumble.
"You have broken promises yourself, remember." I reminded.
"Just one theory – I won't laugh."
"Yes, you will." How couldn't he? Everything I had come up with were shows I watched as a child, books I was read, comics that were made into video games and billion dollar budgeted movies. He looked down and then glanced up through his thick black lashes, his ochre eyes scorching my resolve.
"Please?" He breathed, leaning toward me. I blinked as my mind went blank. Mon Dieu, how does that happen? I had to shake my head, and I think I may have asked "what" out of my confusion.
"Please just tell me one little theory." His eyes were still smothering my will to fight back. He was a hypnotist and I felt my head bow down as I began my interrogation.
"Well, you weren't bitten by a radioactive spider, I would assume?" I hoped he had made this into an art and I wasn't just another pushover. I hoped that I was at least showing some will power against him in comparison to most. But I wasn't feeling very confident.
"That's not very creative." He scoffed. I sniffed.
"I'm sorry. That's all I'm offering."
"You're not even close." He teased. I bit my lip.
"So, no spiders then?"
"Nope."
"And no radioactivity?"
"None."
"Dang," I sighed, knowing they had all been stupid guesses anyway.
"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," he chuckled. I was glad he had marked that off the list for me without me having to ask later.
"You promised you wouldn't laugh!" I hissed. He struggled to bite his lips, but his eyes were dancing. "I'm going to figure it out eventually, Edward Cullen, don't you think otherwise."
"I wish you wouldn't try." He admitted, but his tone was once again a formal warning. I shifted between my feet.
"Because?" I asked expectantly. He took a deep breath, briefly looking out the window for inspiration. I felt almost bad for him, having this much difficulty and having to keep such a secret that I couldn't even identify with.
"What if I'm not the hero?" He asked softly. His eyes stung back into me. "What if I'm the bad guy?"
"Oh," I said, as several of his hints shuffled into their proper places. "I see."
"Do you?" He asked, his voice quiet but his face guarded and severe. He was afraid he had said too much, he was also afraid I would run away. I nodded slowly.
"You're dangerous." It wasn't so much a guess as something that needed verification. My pulse quickened instinctively as I realized the truth of what I had just said. He was dangerous. That's what he had been trying to tell me all along. I examined him for a long time and he did nothing but stare back at me, letting my mind go through its processes at whatever speed it deemed fit. When I spoke, my voice was loud within the silence of our conversation.
"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, you may not be the good guy and you may have been taught to be a bad guy, but I'm willing to bet you're the cursed hero."
"You're wrong." His voice was strong and yet nearly inaudible. He looked down, stealing my bottle lid and spinning it on his side between his fingers. I stared at the angel, wondering why I couldn't be afraid of him. I could tell that he meant everything he was saying, that was very clear by how upset he was. But I just felt anxious – anxious that I was so close to him after all these weeks of being even closer and getting nothing for a response. I was fascinated. And, as much as I hated to admit it, I was smitten.
The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty. I grabbed my bag and slung it quickly over my shoulder. "We're going to be late."
"I'm not going to class today." He said, twirling the lid so fast that it was a blur. I watched it for a moment, mesmerized before I shook my head to get my thoughts straight.
"Why not?"
"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He smiled, but his eyes seemed somewhat troubled. I bit my lip looking behind me as the last students started to grab their things.
"Well...I'm going to go..." I said slowly, I was far too big a coward to risk getting caught.
"I will see you later, then." He smiled, turning his attention quickly to his new toy. I hesitated, torn, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door – with a last glance behind me to confirm he hadn't moved so much as a centimetre from where I had left him.
Questions were flying through my mind six times faster than the speed I was half running – only because I can't actually run, with my klutziness – to Biology. I was lucky that Mr. Banner was just entering the room as I was and I squeezed past him, impressed with my ability to get there somewhat on time. Mike and Angela were both staring at me, the familiar fish-face had opened their mouths and there was a moment where I realized why Edward must laugh at me so often. I looked down, not liking the look of resentment in Mike's eyes and embarrassed by the look of awe in Angela's own.
Mr. Banner settled the class down and juggled a few small cardboard boxes in his arms that would soon have fallen, had Angela not gone to his aid. He put them down more gently thanks to her guiding hand and as he started to speak, began handing them out to everyone.
"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 were particularly ominous to me. I felt my stomach clench as my hands gripped the blacktop. Edward won, Edward won, Edward won the health battle... "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 for us to examine, "-and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was almost invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped.
Oh my God, no...
"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 basically plunged the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger and he let out a yelp to which I jumped about two feet out of my seat. Oh no, I thought as my hands got clammy. My stomach felt like it was running a triathlon.
"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger until the blood flowed, I tried to watch attentively, but my whole body was reacting without my orders to do so.
"Then apply it to the card." He finished holding the dripping red card for us to see. I looked at it carefully, not actually affected by the sight of it and now that those horrible tools were away, I was able to think more clearly. Would I be able to survive this class at all? But then it hit me like a freight train as Mr. Banner shoved the frame in my face to examine.
The smell.
If there was anything in the world that smelt like death, it would clearly have to be the smell of blood. It brought back so many memories of hospital trips and accidents that I didn't want to remember. I was that type of girl who couldn't eat meat any less than well done and most of the time I liked it a little burnt, just to make sure I wouldn't have to be near blood. And to taste it or smell it was the worst just because I knew exactly what it meant – something was dead or suffering. There were no ifs ands or buts to it. Something was suffering badly. When I had my 'lady time' as my Mother called it, I had DMS – it's like PMS but actually during your period – just because I was so freaked out of my own body.
And needles!
As Mr. Banner began to hand out the water drops, I pressed my cheek against the cool, black table top and tried to calm my stomach. All around me I could hear squeals and giggles and complaints as my classmates skewered their fingers, but all I could smell was the blood and when I opened my eyes, all I could see was my lab kit with the needle right inside of it.
"Vivienne, are you alright?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head and when I cracked open my eye, I saw that his had lowered himself to my level, probably for inspection over how real my illness was.
"I know my blood type." Was the only thing I could bear to say out loud. I closed my mouth – here comes the nausea. Thanks for making me talk and then breathe in the smell.
"Are you feeling faint?" Sure, faint was one word for it. Like I was about to die would be a better term. Oh God, I should have just stayed with Edward! I closed my eyes and nodded, it was the best I could do because I was not about to open my mouth to talk and therefore breathe again.
"Can someone take Vivienne to the nurse, please?" He called out, I knew without opening my eyes that Mike would be the only, if not the first, volunteer.
"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner was down to my level again. I nodded, I just needed to get out of here, if I had to skip to the Wizard of Oz theme song, and I would have done it.
Mike seemed eager as he put an arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way out of the classroom. He was gentle and understood that I needed to move slowly across the campus – which was highly appreciated. I liked that it wasn't raining for once. It had very generous timing. When we were out of sight to the biology class and its window, I stopped.
"Can I please just...just give me a minute." I whispered. I sat on the edge of the walkway, bringing my knees to my chest and cradling my stomach with them. He reached forward to help me but I turned my head away from him.
"Keep your hand in your pocket!" I hissed. I was still so dizzy – it was almost impossible for this all to be in my head. I had to be feeling the earth's gravitational pull and how it was revolving and it all must be going faster than normal. I put my cheek back against the freezing sidewalk and breathed out as I closed my eyes. It was comforting.
"Wow, you're green, Liv." Mike noted. I groaned.
"Vivienne?" a different, more panicked voice, called from a distance. I squeezed my eyes shut more firmly. I want this to be a nightmare. I did not want him to see me like this.
"What's wrong – is she hurt?" His voice was closer now and he sounded upset. I wasn't imagining it. I squeezed my eyes tighter, hoping somehow I would die from it. That, or be able to control the acrobatics my stomach was doing.
Mike seemed stressed. "I think she fainted. I don't know what happened; she didn't even stick her finger."
"Vivienne." Edward's voice was right beside me, sounding very relieved. "Can you hear me?"
"No." I grumbled. "Go away." He chuckled.
"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike told in a defensive tone. "She wouldn't go any farther."
"I'll take her," Edward said. I could hear the smile still in his voice. "You can go back to class."
"No," Mike protested with insult. "I'm supposed to do it."
And then the sidewalk was gone. My eyes flew open in shock. Edward had scooped me up in his arms, like I weighed ten pounds instead of one hundred and forty-five. Ugh - I had not lost enough weight for this!
"Put me down!" I ordered, hoping he both would and would not hear the weakness in my voice. I didn't want to vomit on him – please don't let me vomit on him.
"Hey!" Mike called already ten paces behind us. Edward simply ignored him
"You look awful," Edward grinned at me.
"Leave me on the sidewalk to die," I moaned. The rocking movement was not helping – though it was distracting me a bit, which was nice. He held me away from his body, supporting all my weight with just his arms, it didn't faze him. His hands were carefully crawling up and touched the skin at the back of my neck, through the electricity that shocked through me, the coolness was calming. I – for lack of better term – snuggled into his hand.
"So you faint at the sight of blood?" He asked. This seemed to entertain him. I didn't answer but focused on his cold hand against my head, trying to somehow get that sensation down to my stomach. Usually they were so connected with him!
"And not even your own blood," he continued, enjoying himself. I groaned angrily.
I don't know how he opened the door while carrying me, but it was suddenly warm so I knew we had made it inside.
"Oh my," a female voice gasped. I did not move.
"She fainted in biology." Edward explained. I opened my eyes. I was in the office; Edward was striding past the front counter towards the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a Harlequin romance, astonished, as Edward swung me into the room and placed me – with surprising gentleness – on the crackly paper of the hospital cot. He moved to the wall as far away from me in the narrow room as he could. His eyes were bright...was that jerk actually excited? I glared.
"She's just a little faint," he reassured. "They're blood typing in biology."
The nurse sighed. "There's always one." He muffled a snicker.
"Just lay down here a minute, honey; it'll pass."
"I know." I sighed. The nausea was already fading.
"Does this happen a lot?" she asked. I had found the strength to shrug.
"Sometimes." Edward coughed to the side and when I looked it was to discover he was stifling another laugh. This got the nurses attention.
"You can go back to class now," she told him.
"I'm supposed to stay with her." The confidence in the simple statement seemed to be enough for her, because she didn't argue or bring up the idea of him leaving again.
"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me and bustled out o the room.
"You win." I moaned. "You were right."
"I usually am – but about what in particular, this time?"
"Ditching is healthy." I practiced breathing.
"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a pause. His tone made it sound like he was confessing to a very embarrassing rumour. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."
"Ha ha." My eyes were still closed, but I felt more myself each minute. The sarcasm had already kicked in; it was a sure sign of my recovery.
"Honestly – I've seen corpses with better colour. I as concerned that I might have to avenge your murder."
"You see corpses that often?" I mumbled. "Poor Mike. He must be furious."
"He absolutely loathes me," Edward said cheerfully. I peeked through my lashes to check if I was right – I was. I shook my head slightly as my eyes closed.
"You can't know that."
"I saw his face – I could tell." Speaking of what he could see, how had he known where I was?
"Where were you that you saw me? I thought you were ditching." I was almost back to myself, though the queasiness would pass faster had I eaten lunch, but then again, maybe it was my stomach being empty that saved Edward's designer clothes.
"I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response. I heard the door open and looked through my lashes again to see the nurse with a cold compress. I started to sit up.
"Here you go, dear. You're already looking better." She smiled as she put it across my forehead.
"I think I'm fine." I sat up straight, the dizziness almost completely gone. The walls were staying where they should but I was still slightly light headed. I would survive. I could see that she was about to make me lie back down and I was as ready to put up a fight before Ms. Cope stuck her head in.
"We've got another one," she warned. I took the opportunity and slid off of the cot for the waiting invalid. I handed her the compress.
"Here, I don't need this, thank you very much." As I was saying it, Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in our class. Edward and I curled into the wall so that they could have room.
"Oh no," Edward muttered. "Get out of the office, Liv." I looked at him in bewilderment. "Trust me and go." I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the nurse's station. I could feel Edward come right behind me and was all too aware as he put the hand on the small of my back to lead me out.
"You actually listened to me." I almost laughed sarcastically until I saw that the surprise was genuine.
"I smelled the blood." I told, looking down to my stomach as if warning it not to do anything cruel. Lee hadn't gotten sick from watching other people like I had – he had tried and failed.
"People can't smell blood," he contradicted.
"I can." I muttered pointedly. "The needles freak me out but it's the smell that makes me sick. It smells like rust and salt and...Essence."
"Essence?" He muttered back, looking at me with narrowed eyes.
"Yeah. Like how everyone smells different – their body chemistry and the way it mixes with the smell. Kind of like sweat mixing with perfume. I could wear it and you could wear it but it would smell completely different..." He was still watching me through narrowed eyes. "I know. I sound stupid. I'll shut up now."
I bowed my head to avoid him seeing my blush and when I checked moments later, his unfathomable expression had not changed. "What?"
"It's nothing." Mike came through the door then, glancing from Edward to me and back again. The look he gave Edward confirmed what he had said – Mike despised him. He looked back at me, his eyes not nearly as angry, but more so hurt.
"You look better," he accused.
"Keep your hand in your pocket and I should be."
"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered, looking at it sceptically. "Are you going back to class?" I actually snorted at him and both boys looked at me in confusion.
"Are you kidding? I may as well go straight back in the nurses office."
"Yeah, I guess...So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" It was a direct snub to Edward. While he spoke he was openly glaring at him, who was standing against the counter, ignoring the cluttered paper as he stood still as a statue and stared into space. I tried to sound friendly.
"I did say that I was in."
"We're meeting at my Dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edward again, probably hoping that Edward didn't know where the store was, just in case. His body language made it very clear that it was not an open invitation. Because Edward was pretending not to pay any attention, I was insulted for him.
"I said I'd be there."
"I'll see you in Gym, then," he said slowly, moving awkwardly toward the door. He obviously didn't want to leave me alone with Edward, but he was being so rude that I really didn't want to be around him.
"See you." I replied. He looked at me once more, his face slightly pouting and then he walked slowly through the door, and his shoulders slumped. A swell of sympathy washed over me. I pondered seeing his disappointed face again...in Gym.
"Gym," I groaned when I acknowledged what that meant. Running around with a whole bunch of people who smelt like blood! I would be seeing that apple juice soon.
"I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Edward moving to my side, but he spoke now into my ear. "Go sit down and look pale," he whispered, sending a shiver through me.
Not a difficult feat. I was already pale and it was not likely to subside for the rest of the day. I was shivering just because of how close he had been to me so I tried to keep the sensation alive by thinking more thoughts about how close he could, potentially, be. I rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed to better imagine it – fainting spells always exhausted me, so it wasn't like I was out of character.
I heard Edward speaking softly at the counter.
"Ms. Cope?"
"Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.
"Vivienne 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?" His voice was like melting honey. I was trying to imagine how overwhelming his eyes would be and felt another shiver run over me – apparently with perfect timing.
"Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?" Ms Cope fluttered. Why couldn't I do that? There really was something the matter with me.
"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind." I listened silently as she typed away at her computer for a few moments. She turned back to Edward with a bright smile.
"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Vivienne." She called to me. I gave her a hammed up, weakened wave for added effect as I stood.
"Are you sure you can walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" Yes. Yes I did, I couldn't properly appreciate it the first time, you see because I thought that I was going to vomit and ruin your beautiful Armani shirt – but now that I am feeling like the world has stopped moving I would certainly-
"I'll walk." I growled out, cutting off my rather embarrassing train of thought. He held the door for me, his smile polite but his eyes were fully mocking me. I walked into the cold, fine mist that had begun to fall and for the umpteenth time, I turned my head up to the rain. I appreciated the feeling of it washing my face clean of the clamminess the sickness had stuck to it.
"Thanks," I said as he followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick just so I can ditch Gym."
"Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain. I bit my lip, ready to try and dance around a lie that I knew he would catch me on.
"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" I was hoping he would though I doubted it. The invitation had not included him and it would be hard to ignore Mike's threatening tones. I couldn't imagine him loading up into a carpool with the rest of the kids from school; he didn't belong in the same world. But just hoping that he might give me some genuine excitement that went in the opposite direction from my mothers past and into my dream-state future.
"Where are you all going, exactly?" He was still looking ahead, expressionless.
"Down to La Push, to First Beach." I studied his face as I said it, but he was purposely making it so that it would be impossible to read. His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally and he smiled wryly.
"I don't think I was invited."
"I just invited you." I blushed. I could hear it now, the rumours starting about me asking a boy on a date and how he rejected me. Not that I thought it was a date, but I had a horrible idea that this could all be how it started...I was in a bad place.
"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap." His eyes danced, he was probably enjoying the idea more than he should. I could not get over the way he had paired us together, it was what I was enjoying more than I should.
"I'm so over it that I'm flying." I muttered.
We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck when something caught my jacket and yanked me back. I sighed, not even needing to look.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, outraged. He was gripping a fistful of my bright yellow jacket in one hand. I looked to him like he was brain damaged.
"I'm going home."
"Did you not hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?"
"What condition? I'm totally fine now. Why do you always think there is something wrong with me?" I complained. "And what about my truck?"
"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." He was towing me toward his car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward which he probably wouldn't have stopped for anyway. It was disconcerting.
"Let go!" I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me – I stumbled against the passenger side door.
"You're so pushy." I grumbled, looking at the handle.
"It's open." Was his response. He got into the drivers side.
"I am perfectly capable of driving my own vehicle home." I stood by the car, fuming and refusing to get inside. The rain had picked up – I had a secret hope that if I got too soaked, he wouldn't want me in his perfect, shiny Volvo. I watched the window lower.
"Get in, Vivienne." I didn't answer. I was mentally trying to do math calculations – that weren't even remotely close to accurate, nevertheless real – and see if I could reach my truck before he caught me. All answers supporting me were nonexistent. I didn't need to be good at math to know that one.
"I'll just drag you back," ah. He had caught onto my plan. I glared at him, bouncing on my heels for a moment as I looked between truck and Adonis. "Vivienne..."
I sighed, trying to show annoyance though the real reason I was then climbing into his car was just because I doubted I could stand much longer if he kept saying my name like that. I mumbled about how unnecessary this action of chivalry was but he didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up, the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was prepared to give him the silent treatment – my face in full out 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?" He sounded surprised, too.
"Not really," I admitted. "My family all loves classical. Debussy is what my Mother makes my brother listen to as he falls asleep." I smiled. "This happens to be one of my favourites."
"It's one of my favourites, too." He stared through the rain, lost in thought.
"I'm more of a Mozart girl." I smiled, the songs starting to flitter through my mind as I said it. He looked over at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Too many notes?" I let out a chuckle very similar to his; being reminded that it was what Mozart was known for – too many notes in his music. It was, however, the most impressive and the best. Just thinking about Mozart's Requiem Mass made my chest swell.
"Too much emotion." I corrected. I listened to Debussy, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the soothing, familiar melody. It reminded me of Shawn and his quirky little ways. It also made me wonder if he were currently listening to this in my bedroom that he had wanted so badly. I began to realize that we were driving fast but I didn't feel the speed because the car moved so evenly over the pavement. Only the town flashing by gave it away.
"What is your mother like?" he asked me suddenly. I glanced over at him with curious eyes, but he seemed to mean no insult by the uncomfortable subject. I sighed.
"Most people would think of all the bad things after everything I told you – but it's hard. I guess she was selfish, but in the end it was just that she wanted so much of me because she never got any of it. She had a tough childhood: she was a ballerina. She got an injury when she was twenty-two and could never dance again. She's strong, very strong. I envy her, though I think she just goes about it the wrong way..." I smiled, thinking about my mother and her less than kind ways of handling things. "I have too much of Charlie in me. I'm much calmer and I try to look at the big picture like he does, I'm awkward and shy. She's very impulsive. I did get my throbbing curiosity from her."
"Curiosity killed the cat." He said pointedly. I smiled back to him, though I was sure my smile was not nearly as stunning as his.
"Luckily I'm just your friendly neighbourhood teenage klutz."
"How old are you, Vivienne?" He asked. His voice was frustrated again, for some reason that I could not imagine. He had stopped the car and I realized that we were already at my house. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see it at all; it was as if the car were submerged in a waterfall.
"Seventeen." I responded, a little confused by the question.
"You don't seem seventeen." I laughed at him.
"I just made a Spiderman reference and youdon't think I seem seventeen?"
"Don't get me wrong, you have those mannerisms." He thought aloud. "But your presence seems older." I smiled and hummed to myself to which he gave me a look of confusion.
"My Mom always says that I was born thirty-five and each year I get closer to menopause." I blushed automatically, realizing only now how embarrassing that joke really is. "Someone has to be the adult." I explained.
"She's not?"
"You don't seem much like a junior yourself." I said quickly, changing the subject. I could tell that I hadn't fooled him, but he seemed to understand quickly and shrugged.
"So why did your mother marry Earl?" Ah. He had changed the subject too. Bad sign. Maybe we should just stay away from our maturity and reasons for it - but he didn't seem to want to stay away from the idea of my family. I sighed before I looked at him in confusion. Wait, how could he ever remember Earl's name? It had been almost two months ago that I had talked about him.
"My Mother hates being alone."
"Why would that be?"
"Because she knew one day something like this would happen and she decided she needed backups." I muttered darkly. I came out of that mindset quickly, looking at him with a smile. "I mean, no one likes to be alone, do they?"
"No." He shook his head, looking straight out at the house. "Do you approve of him?"
"Does it matter?" I countered. "I want her to be happy and she seems happy enough…she gets what she wants."
"That's very generous…I wonder," he thought out loud. I furrowed my brow.
"What?"
"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter whom your choice was?" His eyes flashed back to me, searching them. I tried not to blush, knowing that if I were to pick anyone it would be him, and no one would ever disapprove of bringing him home to meet the parents - just so long as he was in the same mood as he had been today and mothers didn't go crazy and get jealous.
Though I could see why they would.
"I-I think so," I stumbled. "But she's the parent, after all. It's a bit different."
"No one too scary then," he teased. I grinned in response, trying to think of him being scary and was quite upset when I knew what it looked like. With his pitch black eyes and his lack of humour - that glare that looked like he would throw someone into a fiery pit if he wanted to…
Note to self: never get on Edward Cullen's bad side.
"What do you mean by scary?" I asked with an awkward chuckle. "Multiple facial piercing and extensive tattoos?" I actually didn't mind facial piercings - so long as they weren't ridiculous or you had too many; nor did I actually mind tattoos so long as they were done well and by a worth-while artist. Otherwise, you were just marking up your body not as a statement, but as a pass-time.
"That's one definition, I suppose."
"What's your definition?"
He ignored my question as he had been doing for a while now and I automatically knew the answer.
"Do you think that I could be scary?" He was asking the question that I already knew the answer for - I also knew his answer for it. He thought he was scary. He had made it all too clear at lunch. He was right, though I didn't understand half of what he was 'giving away' he was accidentally giving too much of it. What I had caught on to gave me the jist that he was terrified of terrifying me. I had yet to be convinced.
"I think you could be, if you wanted to."
"Are you frightened of me now?" The smile had vanished and his face was again serious. I wondered if he was worried that I was scared of him or if he thought it a good idea. I answered almost too quickly.
"No." The thing was he must have thought that I was scared of him - which was, kind of, the truth. But it wasn't that I was afraid of his unnerving eyes or intense stares -or glares. It was that I was scared of how I felt when I was around him, which was like some stupid teenage romance novel.
"So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked to distract him. "They must be more interesting than mine."
He was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"
"So…they adopted you, right?"
"Yes."
I hesitated, knowing this next question may be a painful one. "Do you mind if I ask…I mean…why did they have to? What hap-"
"My parents died many years ago." His tone was a matter of fact. "It's not a painful question."
"I'm sorry, Edward." I mumbled.
"I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."
"You love them, I can tell."
"Yes." He smiled. "I could not imagine two better people."
"You're really lucky." I whispered, looking out the window briefly.
"I know I am."
"What about your brother and sister?" I asked, thinking back to all the astonishingly beautiful faces. He looked 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, my bad, I guess you have to go." But I didn't get out of the car. I didn't want to. In fact, I wanted to ask him to stay - or even just to come back after he had dropped them off. But that was foolish. We had only started talking today and I didn't want him to think of me as some obsessed groupie - which may or may not be how I was starting to categorize myself.
"And you probably want your truck back before Charlie gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." I hoped that behind that smile he was giving me reasons so that I wouldn't feel as bad about him leaving. It was slightly working.
"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks."
"Have fun at the beach…good weather for sun bathing." He glanced out at the sheeting rain and turned back to me with a shrug. I could feel my face drop.
"Won't I see you tomorrow?"
"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."
"What are you going to do?" I hope that the disappointment wasn't ringing too loudly in my voice. And more than that, I hoped that it was alright for me to ask. We had been playing a game much like twenty questions and I couldn't deny that I wanted to know everything that went on inside that head of his.
"We're going hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier." I remembered briefly that my Dad had told me about the Cullen's and their frequent camping trips. I had never been camping in my life - not for lack of wanting to - just because it was not something my family did. We were not an active bunch, we were artsy.
"Oh, well, don't get swallowed by any large wilderness animal or lost in the woods." I tried to sound enthusiastically sarcastic, but I don't think it fooled him. I couldn't even fool myself into thinking I didn't want him to stick around. A smile was playing on the edge of his lips.
"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look me straight in the face, taking advantage of the power behind his burning golden eyes. I nodded, dazed once more.
"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 by anything, all right?" He smiled crookedly. The helplessness faded and I glared at him, but put on my own smile.
"Fine. But please keep in mind that means I have no control over the other unspecified accidents and catastrophes." With that, I jumped out into the rain and slammed the door behind me with excessive force.
He was laughing as he sped away.
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Egypt