A/N: Thank you for the great feedback on the first chapter! I hope you all enjoy this next one! A couple songs that inspired me through these first couple chapters were 'Glory and Gore' by Lorde, 'Eyes On Fire' by Blue Foundation, and 'No Way Out (Redux)' by Warpaint. (Reminder that I don't own the basic plot line, a lot of the dialogue and the rare line here and there ;))

…

Soft flakes of snow drifted gently from above, coming to settle against my hard, velvet skin. My body had cooled to the temperature of the atmosphere around me, and so the snow did not melt against my skin, or where I leaned against the bank of it. Tiny flakes of frozen ice stuck to my hair and eyelashes, but I did not move. I wasn't cold.

The sky above me was like a velvet blanket, pitch black and filled with glittering stars. If human eyes could see the copious amounts of them, the number I could see was ten times as much. I could clearly discern all of the constellations, could see the rings of Saturn without any trouble. It was magnificent—or what might have been, if I'd possessed the ability to truly see it.

It had been six days, and it wasn't get any better. Nearly a week, and I was still a prisoner, entrapped in the swirling galaxy of this human boy's lure. An unspeakable magnetic force, drawing me to him, though I was miles away, here in the vacant Denali wilderness.

Our old family friends had welcomed me openly here, almost a week ago.

I had escaped narrowly at the end of that abhorrent Monday, having to face Beau Swan once more in the school office, where I'd gone after the final bell to try and switch out of fifth period biology. I hadn't had any luck, and again I came close to murdering more innocents for the reward of Beau's blood.

He'd come in soundlessly, hesitating by the door while I spoke to the secretary, Mr. Cope, and I hadn't noticed it was him standing there until Andrew Dowling had come in to drop off a tardy slip, and had stirred up the air in that tiny, warm space.

Somehow, with the aid of Carine's conscience in my mind, I had overcome the unrelentingly powerful urge inside me.

Upon returning to the car, Archie had finally noticed the tenor of my future. Until then, he'd been totally fixed on Jessamine. He had been the one to tell me I would be leaving.

Until then, I had still been undecided, but when he spoke the question, it suddenly became clear to me, where I would go.

So I'd dropped my siblings off at the dirt road turn-off, and gone straight to Carine where she was working at the hospital.

Now, I heard the nearing thoughts before I heard the footsteps that accompanied them. The sound of movement was only a faint whisper against the powder.

I was not surprised that Tanvir had followed me here. I knew he'd been mulling over this coming conversation for the last few days, putting it off until he was sure of exactly what it was he wanted to say.

He leaped into sight about sixty yards away, lithely vaulting himself onto a craggy outcropping of stone. In the moonlight, his skin was as pale as the snow, and his hair was nearly the same shade.

He caught sight of me then, and was beside me in a short series of massive bounds. When he reached me, snow burst into the air around us, a small detonation, and I was buried in its downfall. Darkness obscured my vision, but I didn't move to unearth myself. I sat there, unmoving, troubled.

"Edythe?" Tanvir said, and I could hear the playful grin in his voice. "Hey, Edythe?" he repeated, a note of concern in his tone now.

Then he was moving, scooping the snow away from me, and when he found me, wiped the remaining powder from my face. His hands lingered just a little too long there.

"Sorry," he apologized, "It was a joke."

"I know. It was funny."

He didn't look amused, and I knew my expression was less-so. His brow furrowed, and he appraised me for a moment.

Ivan and Kerril think I should leave you alone. They think I'm annoying you.

"No," I protested, "You're not bothering me one bit, Tanvir. I'm the one who's been acting inexcusably."

He didn't answer me for a minute, idly brushing a patch of snow from my shoulder.

"You're going home, aren't you?" he murmured finally, and his voice would have been soundless to human ears. He didn't work to keep the disappointment hidden.

"I'm… Not sure yet."

"But you're leaving here," he stated, definitely sounding dejected now.

"Yes," I sighed, "It doesn't seem to be… Helping."

"I'm sorry—that's partially my fault."

"No," I objected, but it was a lie.

Tanvir had made no secret of his affections for me, and I had deftly avoided his advances many, many times. He didn't let it affect him too much, but he still hoped.

"I was hoping, when you showed up at the door…"

"I know." My voice was low, chagrined, "I'm sorry. I didn't intend to bolster your hopes… I didn't think before I left; it all happened so fast…"

"I don't suppose you'll tell me why…? What's going on?"

I pulled my legs up to my chest and buried my face in my knees, shaking my head slowly.

He rested his hand between my shoulder blades, and I froze at his touch. He noticed my reluctance immediately, but it still took him a moment to remove his hand.

"Do you think—?"

"Please, Tanvir… I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," he said easily, though the undercurrent of his thoughts was still curious, and there was a slight edge of jealousy. He was wondering if it had something to do with a man.

I almost laughed, though the sound would have held a definitive edge of hysteria to it.

"Not like that."

This only piqued his frustrated curiosity.

We sat in silence for a long while, and eventually, his thoughts began to peruse a different avenue.

Where will you go?

I lifted my head to look at him. "I don't know." I offered up a wan smile. "I'll figure something out."

His eyes fixed on mine for a long moment. He was sitting just a little too close.

Finally he smirked and threw an arm around me, squeezing me closer. He meant it only as a friendly gesture… for the most part… so I allowed it.

"You'll go back," he said confidently, "You're not the type to shy away from a challenge."

I frowned. If he knew how cowardly I really was…

"I'm serious," he insisted, and I saw it in his thoughts: Just how high in esteem he really held me, and I held on to that image, clinging to it. I tried to see myself the way he saw me—a confident young woman, unswerving in her strength and perseverance.

I exhaled and rested my head on his shoulder for barely a moment. "Thank you."

He reached over, hooking his fingers under my chin and pulling my face up so he could look at me. He was so close, I could feel his breath washing over my cheeks.

"You're so welcome," he returned, his voice low, husky, eyes tender.

I read his thoughts just in time and turned my face away. His lips caught the edge of my cheekbone, and then he laughed, thwarted.

His arm receded from around me, and he leaned back against the snow bank, arms behind his head. He stared up at the star-studded sky for a moment.

"Y'know, I'm not used to rejection." He said these words easily, jokingly, but I could sense the rebuttal he'd taken in his mind.

"You deserve someone much better than I," I told him, "I just… Haven't found what I'm looking for yet."

He mulled this over in silence for a moment.

"Well, if you leave before I see you again...goodbye, Edythe."

"Goodbye, Tanvir." As I said the words, I could see it. I could see myself leaving. Being strong enough to go back to the one place where I wanted to be. "Thank you, again."

He rose to his feet in one sinuous motion, turned his back on me, and shot like a bullet across the plains of snow, moving too fast for his feet to even sink beneath the powdery surface.

I watched him go, and then sighed, nestling my chin between my knees, hands grasping the fronts of my shins. I hated to hurt Tanvir, but then, his affections for me were relatively shallow. Either way, they were not feelings I could return.

I knew that Archie would predict my return; that he would inform the others that I was on my way back. This would make them happy—Carine and Earnest especially. But I gazed at the stars for one more moment, reflecting on that strange magnetic pull, emanating from a place deep inside me I couldn't quite touch. This sensation, this part of me, was unfamiliar and new.

I allowed myself to wonder what my return would mean for the boy and his safety, but I was set on being the 'Edythe Cullen' Tanvir thought I was. The Edythe who faced things head-on, and didn't let obstructions get in her way.

With a heavy sigh, I got to my feet. If I ran, I would be back to Carine's Mercedes in less than an hour... In a hurry to see my family, I raced across the sparkling snowfield, leaving no trace of my passage.

…

I was standing in front of the mirror in the corner of my room, examining the outfit I'd chosen to wear today. It seemed trivial, but I wanted to look unassuming and non-affronting for the boy.

I'd chosen a pair of smart, white pants, black velvet ankle boots, and a soft pink sweater underneath a wine red knit coat. My eyes were a very light golden color, and despite the fact I'd finished hunting hours ago, I still felt overly full. I had done everything I could to prepare myself for this day, but still. I felt the ghost of a tremor run through me.

"You'll be fine," Archie spoke from my bedroom doorway. I glanced over my shoulder at him, securing the front part of my hair back with a ribbon the same color as my jacket. He had his shoulder resting on the doorjamb, hands in his pockets. He looked very casual, and very unconcerned.

Abruptly, I was supremely grateful for the confidante I had in my brother. We shared a connection I hadn't ever felt with anyone else. There was a uniqueness to our sibling bond, and I felt very tenderly for him.

"Yes," I agreed, recalling that confident, self-assured image Tanvir—and the rest of my family, incidentally—held of me. I had to believe I could do this, had to believe I would be strong enough. I would never allow myself near the boy, and the rest of the student body, if I didn't believe it would be so. "Let's get going."

I picked up my bag and slipped past him, out into the hallway, ignoring the wary glance he gave me.

…

Was it just last week that this long, drab cafeteria had seemed so killingly dull to me? That it had seemed almost like sleep, like a coma, to be here?

Today my nerves were stretched tight—piano wires, tensed to sing at the lightest pressure. My senses were hyper-alert; I scanned every sound, every sight, every movement of the air that touched my skin, every thought. Especially the thoughts. There was only one sense that I kept locked down, refused to use. Smell, of course. I didn't breathe.

"We should be cool to sit in our regular spot," Archie said, his voice sort of hollow.

I rolled my eyes as we stepped through the doors to the wide room. "Give it a rest, Archie," I groaned, "Of course we'll sit in our typical spot."

Archie ignored me, continuing to throw his mind into the future, scanning.

"Stop it," I snapped, nudging him with my elbow as we reached our table, "You're driving me nuts. I'm fine."

Archie slumped into his seat, his eyes focusing on my face. "You know, I think you're right."

I let the low rumble of a growl rise up in my throat. "Of course I am," I said through gritted teeth.

Jess caught my eye as I slumped my chin into my hand.

Annoying, isn't it? She smirked wryly.

"Incredibly."

As I again turned my focus to the thoughts of the children around me, I was surprised to find that there was still no news about the boy. I knew the male humans didn't tend to confide in each other too much, but I had safely assumed he would have at least asked someone about my stand-offish attitude from the week before. He'd obviously been intimidated by my murderous glare—both in the biology classroom, and the front office after the bell—but it seemed, though many were still transfixed on the boy, that he'd told nobody about our strange confrontation.

Not to mention, he'd witnessed me attempt to get out of our shared class together. Surely he must have assumed he had something to do with it. Humans' confidence was frail in that way.

But there were no suspicious glances our way, no quiet musings about our group. The students around me carried on as if Beau Swan had said absolutely nothing.

Had he genuinely not?

"Any new developments?" Jess inquired.

"Nothing." My voice sounded toneless with shock, "He must not have talked to anyone."

Each of them shared my surprise, Jess's eyebrows shooting high on her forehead.

Eleanor snickered. "Hate to break it to ya, little sis, but you're just not as intimidating as you think you are." She leaned over to loop her first finger and thumb around my bicep—though slim in radius, it was still hard and worked through with hard, unyielding muscle.

"Not everybody has to be built like a Sports Illustrated model to be intimidating, El," I returned, showing her the tip of my tongue.

"He's gonna look over here in a sec," Archie warned us, "Act human."

On immediate cue, El burst into loud guffaws, pointing at me and snickering as if my snide reply had been the funniest thing she'd ever heard, though there was a mocking edge to her laughter.

The rest of us joined right on in, purely for the sake of the façade. I was going to slug that girl later. Of course, I'd have to surreptitious about it.

I focused all of my attention on our grouping, sure my grin didn't look entirely natural on my face, but I could feel that magnetic pull again, that unexplainable urge, toward where I knew the boy stood waiting in the cafeteria line.

I was keeping tabs on Jeremy Stanley's thoughts, and heard the impatient tenor of them when he tried and failed to get Beau's attention. Through his mind, I could see Beau's profile, the straight bridge of his nose, the subtle fullness to his lips, his thick, dark lashes… He was staring toward our table, distracted by our playful banter. Also, in Jeremy's thoughts, I could see the inviting patches of blood rush under the boy's thin skin.

I kept my teeth locked, pulling short, shallow breaths through my nose—prepared to stop breathing if his scent crossed my path.

McKayla Newton was with the two boys. I heard both her voices, mental and verbal, when she asked Jeremy what was wrong with the Swan boy. I didn't like the way her thoughts wrapped around him, the flicker of ill-presumed possessiveness that clouded her mind while she watched him start and look up from his reverie like he'd forgotten she was there.

"Nothing," he said quickly, his voice breaking subtly. I heard the clatter of soda bottles and the staggering stumble of his feet as he rushed to catch up to the end of the line-up.

"Aren't you hungry?" Jeremy inquired.

"Actually, I feel a little sick," Beau mumbled.

Immediate concern flickered to life in McKayla Newton's thoughts, and that same edge of territorial ownership. It bothered me, the way she thought about the boy. As if he belonged to her, when clearly, he didn't.

They finished up and selected a table to sit at, and I forced my shoulders not to follow the boy's movements.

Archie nudged me. He's going to look soon, act human.

I clenched my teeth behind my grin.

"Ease up, Edythe," El said. "Honestly. So you kill one human. That's hardly the end of the world."

"You would know," I griped.

Eleanor laughed, unbothered by my jab. "You've got to learn to get over things. Like I do. Eternity is a long time to wallow in guilt."

Just then, Archie tossed a smaller handful of ice that he'd been hiding into Eleanor's unsuspecting face.

She blinked, totally surprised, and I burst into laughter at her wide-eyed shock, genuinely pleased and humored. The rest of them joined in as well, and it didn't take long for El's expression to melt into one of good humor.

Royal gritted his teeth in surprise when El, her hair still saturated from the snow fight we'd joined in on outside before coming in, swung her ponytail in a wide arc, the wet iciness splattering across the table. The snow in our hair melted slower, due to our low body temperature. But the heat in the room from the bodies around us was enough to take effect now.

I could see in Archie's head how he'd planned out this perfect scene, and I knew that Beauwould be watching us laugh and banter, looking as happy and human and unrealistically ideal as a Norman Rockwell painting.

…staring at Edythe again…

Automatically, my face turned toward the mental call of my name, sliding right past the owner of the thoughts and settling on Beau's face.

A second too late, he revolved away from my sights, shifting his shoulders completely in Jeremy's direction, who looked a little askance at Beau's sudden closeness.

I didn't avert my eyes, staring with great concentration at the boy's profile. I had never had to try so hard to read someone's thoughts, never had to try at all in fact, and to do so now was surprisingly taxing, and frustrating. I pushed against the wall in his mind as hard as I could, but it did not recede. There was nothing but silence.

In my periphery, Jeremy glanced over Beau's shoulder toward me. I ignored him and kept my eyes on Beau, focusing.

"Edythe Cullen is staring at you," the boy stated.

"She doesn't look angry, does she?" Beau's voice was low, embarrassed, and I felt a pang of remorse. So he had noticed my rude behavior the week before. And yet, still he'd confided in no one… Strange.

"No." Jeremy was bemused. "What did you do, ask her out?" The friendly teasing wasn't entirely teasing… Jeremy had a hard time imagining my acquiescence to anything of the sort.

"No!" Beau blurted, red splotches rising up his neck again, "I've never even talked to her. I just… don't think she likes me very much."

"The Cullens don't like anybody," Jeremy told him off-handedly, "Well… they don't notice anybody enough to like them." At least they never used to… "But she's still staring at you."

"Stop looking at her," Beau ordered with as much conviction as he could muster. It was almost comical. He was barely a threat to the Stanley child, let alone anyone else.

Jeremy chuckled, but did as Beau asked, unable to shake the goose bumps and instinctual aversion he felt when he looked our way.

…

"So… what's the plan?"

The cafeteria was almost empty, but I did not move from my seat. Would I go to class, sit beside the boy where I could smell the absurdly potent scent of his blood and feel the warmth of his pulse in the air on my skin? Was I strong enough for that? Or had I had enough for one day?

"I think you'll be okay, Edy… You'll probably make it through the hour."

"Why push it, Edythe? Take it easy for the day; pace yourself."

"What's the big deal? Either she eats him or she doesn't. Might as well go and get the inevitable over with."

None of their words helped me. I was totally and completely on the fence. On the one hand, I wanted very badly to be confident, self-assured, to go to class and to face the situation head on. On the other hand, I didn't want to push myself, didn't want to ruin things for my family. Royal didn't say a word, but he didn't want to leave town. He thought it was too soon, and he was almost to the end of his umpteenth high school career.

I didn't want to be the one to force my family from where we were. I didn't want to be the reason we had to flee, like some criminals from the FBI.

But I wanted to go to class. I wanted to see his face. I wanted to know what he was thinking. His mind was closed, but his eyes were very open. Perhaps I could read them instead.

"I'm going." I stood abruptly, slinging my bag across my shoulder and smoothing down the wide lapel of my jacket.

My family looked up at me. Royal looked the most hesitant. He didn't like playing with fire, and El, in comparison, was shockingly blasé.

Archie stood, too. "I'm ninety-three percent sure you won't kill him today," he told me, casting me a curious glance. He wondered what had firmed up my decision so much, when before, the odds had been much lower, closer to fifty-fifty.

I ignored his gaze and turned away from them. "I'll see you later," I said, and headed out into the rain.

As I crossed the grounds toward the biology building, I took deep, cleansing breaths, allowing the moist air—which had now turned to rain—to swirl in my lungs, reveling in the fresh cleanness of it.

I paused outside the classroom door, squaring my shoulders and calling to mind the image of my confident self. Then I closed off my airways and stepped through the door.

Beau was already in his seat, doodling without seemingly much thought on the cover of his notebook. Shapeless swirls and loops. I could find no rhythm to it as I glanced over his shoulder on my way past.

I pulled the chair out next to him, purposefully allowing the metal legs to scrape against the linoleum, so he would hear my approach. The muscles in his shoulders clenched just marginally, but immediately relaxed. He didn't look up.

Perhaps, if I could get to know the boy a bit, it would help my cause. After all, it had been curiosity about Beau that had firmed up Archie's visions of me. If I knew the boy as a person, perhaps I'd stop seeing him so much as prey. I knew he was probably frightened of me, and a strange instinct welled up inside me. I didn't want him to think of me that way. I wanted to leave him with a better impression of myself.

So I arranged my features into a friendly expression and spoke: "Hello."

His head jerked up, eyes skittering to my face. Up close, and really looking, I could see just how blue his eyes were. Like the daytime sky, which I missed so much. For conspicuous reasons, we could not venture out into the sunlight, and I ached for blue sky much too often. But it didn't seem so far off now, looking into Beau Swan's eyes.

I could feel every one of his heartbeats reverberate through the air, pushing against my skin.

Careful, I reminded myself.

"My name is Edythe Cullen," I continued when I knew I'd gained his attention, though he was still staring blankly, "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Beau Swan."

It took him a minute to answer me, and the question came out uneven, in lurches and drags. "H-how do you know my name?"

I felt a tinge of guilt when I realized how much I must have scared him last week. Careful of my teeth, I laughed gently, a sound I knew usually put humans at ease. "Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive."

Abruptly he frowned, the shade of his irises shifting just so, and I wondered, desperately, what he was thinking. It hadn't been the reaction I'd been expecting.

"No," he said, "I meant, why did you call me Beau?"

"Do you prefer Beaufort?" I questioned, confused. He'd corrected everyone when they'd called him that last week. I was a little lost.

"Absolutely not, but I think Charlie—I mean, my dad—must call me that behind my back—that's what everyone here seems to know me as."

I realized my mistake immediately. I'd been catering to thoughts rather than the social norm—which would have assumed the longer name.

"Oh." I looked away awkwardly, toward the front of the classroom, glad that Mrs. Banner started class just then.

I had used up all the air in my lungs, and if we were going to speak to him anymore, I would have to garner more air. Mrs. Banner was explaining the lab we would be doing today, and Beau was watching her with much more interest than was normal.

I braced myself, locking my muscles in place, and turned my face away without shifting in my seat too noticeably. I inhaled through my mouth alone, the air whistling between my teeth.

Ahh! It was acutely agonizing. Though I could not smell him, I could still taste his essence on the back of my tongue, unbearably sweet, and the flame storm swirled in my throat once more, the temptation just as strong as it had been the first day. The animal trashed against my ribcage, begging to be let out.

I forced composure. I could do this. I was strong. I was confident. I would not let this boy and his absurdly sweet blood drive me from the place I wanted to be.

Mrs. Banner gave us the go ahead to get started with the mitosis laboratory assignment.

"Ladies first, partner?" I asked Beau, pulling my lips up in a smile I hoped would put him at ease. After all, he still seemed frightened of me, and I wanted to change that conception, no matter how well-placed it was.

Beau looked up at me for a moment, and then his face went abruptly slack. Was there something off in my expression? Was he frightened again? He didn't speak.

I lifted an eyebrow.

"Uh, sure, go ahead," he sputtered, taking the hint.

Inviting spots of blood rushed into his face, and I gazed at them a moment too long, warring against the temptation they elicited… I jerked my face away, forcing my attentions on the battered microscope in front of me, and the box of slides next to it.

I clicked the first into place and glanced through the viewfinder swiftly.

"Prophase," I reported and moved to clip the slide out of the base. I paused, glancing up at him. I was used to taking matters into my own hands. This lab was old news—I could achieve it with perfect clarity with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back. But it occurred to me that he, in any case, had an education to acquire. "Or did you want to check?" I asked him.

"Uh, no, I'm good."

I picked up my pencil and wrote down the term in the correct box on the worksheet, and then moved onto the second slide. I entered Anaphase into the worksheet smoothly, and then replaced the second slide with the third. I was settling in to the easy routine, trying not to think about the fiery thirst too hard, trying not to speak unless it were absolutely necessary, I almost didn't notice Mrs. Banner's thoughts from the front of the room.

Oh, for goodness sake, girl. Give the boy a chance to learn.

"Miss. Cullen?" she called.

Deftly, I slid the microscope across the table, toward Beau. The heat of his skin emanated onto my hand with impressive strength, though we did not touch, and I drew it back quickly.

"Perhaps you should let Mr. Swan have an opportunity to learn?"

"Of course, Mrs. Banner," I obliged, and I turned toward Beau. I was out of air again, and I forced a shallow breath through my teeth. Ah!

When he just sat there, I gave him a look, which I hoped he'd respond to. Mrs. Banner was still watching out of the corner of her eye as she moved down the aisle on the opposite end of the room.

He leaned forward to glance through the eyepiece. Sitting beside him was like sitting next to a heat lamp. I could feel myself warming slightly to the higher temperature.

"Metaphase," he said after a short moment.

"Do you mind if I look?" I interrupted him, unthinkingly reaching out to grasp his hand as he made to remove the slide. For one second, the heat of his skin burned into mine. It was like an electric pulse—surely much hotter than a mere ninety-eight point six degrees. The heat shot through my hand and up my arm. He jerked his hand out from underneath mine almost immediately.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, mortified. Needing somewhere to look, I grasped the microscope and stared briefly into the eyepiece. He was right.

"Metaphase," I agreed, and then slid the microscope back toward him, careful not to touch him this time. What had I been thinking, reaching out to touch him like that? What was he thinking? Was he absolutely repulsed by our obvious difference?

I dragged short breaths through my mouth, the pain like daggers in my throat, and watched him attempt to exchange the slides. Clumsily, he fumbled them both. One bounced safely onto the table, and the other went over the edge.

I reached out unthinkingly to catch it, though I had known I'd moved too quickly. I was usually better controlled around humans, but there was something about this Beau Swan that made me want to act… well, naturally.

"Ugh," he exhaled, and his breath burst in a succulent cloud around me, "Sorry."

Surprisingly, I found the situation hysterical, and I found myself fighting back laughter as I responded.

"Well, the last is no mystery, regardless."

I scrawled Metaphase and Telophase into the last two boxes on the worksheet.

We were the first ones finished with the lab, by a long shot. Many of the students had their books open underneath the table, cheating. Others were simply stumped, their minds wide, blank spaces, and I couldn't imagine what was so difficult about the assignment. But then, I had done this lab dozens of times.

We had nothing left to do but sit there, and once more, I found my attentions drifting to his face, to those clear blue eyes. What did he think of me? I wondered. Truly? And why hadn't he said anything to anyone while I'd been gone? I stared, trying to determine the secrets in those eyes…

Those eyes, which were suddenly locked on mine.

I stared back at him, trying to guess even one of those secrets.

"Did you get contacts?" he blurted.

The question had come out of nowhere, and it took me completely off-guard. "No." My tone was perplexed.

"Oh," he muttered, clearly nonplussed, "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

It dawned on me then, suddenly. Of course there was something different about my eyes. The first time he'd seen me, they'd been flat black with thirst. Now, well fed, they'd shifted back to their usual honey color. But I was surprised. No human had ever noticed that about any of us before. They'd never gotten close enough…

At a loss on what to say, I shrugged and cast my eyes away.

I'd messed up again, made another error in the presence of this boy in just under twenty minutes, and the realization had me clenching my hands into fists, tense. Apparently, I was not the only one attempting to ferret out secrets today.

Mrs. Banner approached our table, and I welcomed the tide of fresh air she brought with her. I sucked a lungful of safe air in gratefully.

"So, Edythe—"

"Beau identified half of the slides," I interjected.

Mrs. Banner turned her eyes on the boy next to me, her thoughts doubtful. "Have you done this lab before?"

He shrugged. "Not with onion root."

"Whitefish blastula?"

"Yeah."

She nodded, impressed. She'd pulled this assignment from a more advanced syllabus. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"

"Yes."

He was advanced then, more intelligent than the average human. This did not surprise me. His eyes said as much, and his quick assumptions about me kept me on my toes.

"Well," Mrs. Banner murmured, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." She turned and strode away intoning under her breath, "So the other kids can get a chance to learn something for themselves." I doubted the boy could hear that.

When I turned my attentions back on Beau, he was doodling again, scrawling inarticulate shapes once more.

Again, I fixed my sights on changing the boy's first impressions of me. Just what did he suspect? I had no way of reading his thoughts, obviously, so I went about it the next best way.

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Small talk was hardly the way, but I knew from experience that humans felt more at ease starting off conversations this way.

"Not really," he muttered.

"You don't like the cold," I assumed safely. The distaste was clear on his face, and this perplexed me.

"Or the wet."

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live." Perhaps you should not have come here, I wanted to add. Perhaps you should go back where you belong.

"You have no idea," he said darkly, and this piqued my confusion even more.

"Why did you come here then?" I demanded, and the curiosity was apparent in my tone. I couldn't hide it. If he hated it so much here, preferred the sun so much more, why had he exiled himself to a place where the sun hardly ever shone? I couldn't figure it out.

"It's… complicated," he said, averting his gaze.

"I think I can keep up." In fact, I knew I could.

For a minute, I didn't think he was going to answer me, he stayed silent for so long. Then he turned his eyes on me again, and the words came tumbling out, almost too quickly.

"My mother got remarried."

"That doesn't sound so complex," I argued, surmising something must have gone wrong there. An issue with the step-father, possibly? It was the only reason I could see why he would have felt the need to leave. "When did that happen?"

"Last September." He sounded glum, and I felt immediate sympathy for the boy. It must have been difficult. His melancholy left me feeling oddly vulnerable, wishing there was something I could do to make him feel better. A foreign, unfamiliar compulsion.

"And you don't like him," I assumed.

His answer surprised me: "No, Phil is fine. A little young, maybe, but he's a good guy."

"Why didn't you stay with them?" I was being, perhaps, just a tad too curious, but I couldn't help it. This didn't fit with the assumption I'd formerly made about the boy, and I wanted to find out more.

"Phil travels most of the time," he went on to explain, "He plays ball for a living." The hint of a fond smile tugged at his lips, and unconsciously, I felt my own lips turning up in response. His smile just made me want to smile in response—to be in on the secret.

"Have I heard of him?"

"Probably not," he said, "He doesn't play well. Just minor league. He moves around a lot."

Ah, it was becoming clearer now, the answer obvious. "And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him."

I was surprised when he squared his shoulders, his tone a tad affronted. "No, she didn't. I sent myself."

I was confused again, and I felt my brow furrow, completely lost. So I conceded defeat. There was just no making sense of the boy. He wasn't like other humans. Maybe the silence of his reflections and the aroma of his scent were not the only unusual things about him.

"I don't understand," I admitted, and I felt frustrated with myself for this fact. There wasn't much I didn't understand, couldn't glean, from the human race. There was hardly anything unique in the minds around me, anymore. But the one mind I couldn't read, of course, would be the one that was.

He sighed, and his breath washed over my face, though we were sitting quite far apart. Just as I had begun to relax, I was on high alert again, muscles clenching, throat burning, mouth flooding with venom… I swallowed it down and focused on his words.

"She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy… so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with Charlie."

"But now you're unhappy." The words were safe to assume. His tone had not masked his discontent.

"And?" he responded, as if in challenge.

I watched him for a minute, feeling I'd suddenly gleaned the first glimpse into his soul. He was incredibly selfless for a boy his age, and as I realized this, the mystery of Beau Swan diluted, just a little.

"That doesn't seem fair."

He laughed once, the sound vacant of amusement. "Haven't you heard? Life isn't fair."

I wanted to laugh at his words, though I, too, felt no real amusement. I knew a little something about the unfairness of life. "I believe I have heard that somewhere before."

I didn't take my eyes off him, and he fidgeted under my gaze after a minute.

"So that's it," he said.

I felt my head tilt to the side, watching him fixedly. I wasn't ready to let the conversation end; I had more theories about him.

"You put on a good show," I told him, "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

He shrugged. "I repeat… And?"

That confirmed my suspicions, which made me even more curious about the boy.

"I don't entirely understand you, that's all."

"Why would you want to?" he inquired, frowning.

"That's a very good question," I responded, almost more to myself than to him. Why should it matter, the insipid details of this human boy's life? Why did I care so much? What did I find so interesting about him? The fact that his mind was silent to me couldn't be all. But again, it should not matter. I shouldn't be concerning myself with simple human lives. It was reckless and irresponsible.

I stared at the boy, trying to read as much as I could in his eyes, for they were the most open part of him.

And then he looked away, toward the front of the room, and I was cut off.

I sighed, frustrated, and his eyes flashed back to my face.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, "Did I… Am I annoying you?"

I shook my head and smirked. "No, if anything, I'm annoyed with myself." And here, I'd thought I was so perceptive, so intuitive about others. When it had clearly been due to my mind-reading capabilities. I wasn't nearly as insightful as I gave myself credit for.

"Why?" he inquired.

"Reading people… it usually comes very easily to me. But I can't—I guess I don't know quite what to make of you." I paused, examining the amused smile on his lips. "Is that funny?"

The smile disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, and a part of me felt disappointed for it. It was assuring, to see him act comfortably around me. Internally, I chided myself. I should not allow myself to feel happy at the boy's comfort. I should have been doing everything I could to avoid his company.

"More… unexpected," he explained, "My mom always calls me her open book. According to her, you can all but read my thoughts printing out across my forehead."

I concentrated for half a minute, in spite of myself. Nothing.

I smirked. "I suppose I've gotten overconfident."

This clearly threw him. "Uh, sorry?"

I laughed, the sight of his confusion strangely appealing. At that moment, Mrs. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned toward her, away from Beau's bemused expression.

…

I recognized the fascination growing inside me, though I'd never experienced anything quite like it before. Despite its welcoming feeling, I tried to root it out. I could not afford to find Beau Swan interesting. Or rather, he could not afford that. Already, I was anxious for another chance to talk to him. I wanted to know more about his relationship with his mother, which seemed unusual for a boy of his age. He seemed strangely close to her, and had spoken of her with such affection. I wanted to know more about his life before he came here, his relationship with his father, which I already knew couldn't be very strong. He'd spent very little time with him up until now; all the meaningless details that would flesh out his character further. But every second I spent with him was a mistake, a risk he shouldn't have to take.

No, I could not afford to find him captivating. The more interesting I found him, the more likely it was that I would kill him. I'd already made two minimal slips today. Would I make a third, one that was not inconsequential?

Eleanor was waiting for me outside Mr. Goff's Spanish class, and she was immediately curious.

How did it go?

"I didn't kill him," I murmured as I slipped past her, into the classroom.

"Well, that's something," she snickered, all too casual, as she followed me inside and hung her jacket on the peg by the door.

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair to brush it out of my face. "I guess so."

"Maybe it will get easier," she suggested reassuringly as we took our seats. We were the first students to arrive, and we spoke quietly. "Or maybe not," she continued.

I flinched at her thoughts, at the image of me, slumped over Beau's limp, lifeless body, eyes glowing red. She blinked the thought away. I was appalled by her acceptance of the idea that I would kill the boy, that this was somehow inevitable. It wasn't his fault that he smelled so good. Why should he suffer for that unavoidable occurrence?

…

A/N: I would love to know what you all thought of this chapter! Leave me some love! xo