Daybreak: Her Side Of The Story

by WinterSunshine

"In that moment, something shifted inside me, not in a physiological way, but on a much, much deeper level. In this moment, I was forever changed, by the seemingly simple human boy sleeping in the bed across the room from me." [Life and Death/Midnight Sun, from Edythe's POV/perspective.] Canon pairings, etc, etc.

10. Interrogations

A/N: I missed something in Chapter 5, and have since gone back and corrected it. Just something minor regarding Taylor's thoughts, but regardless. I like to have all my bases covered. NOTE: There is some language in this chapter (tsk, tsk, Royal. I tried and tried to convince him, but he just would not reign in his rudeness.)

No particular songs of inspiration for this one, but I am working on compiling a playlist on 8tracks. I'll let you all know as soon as I release it. And if you have any songs in mind that remind you of Beau and Edythe (particularly from Edythe's perspective), feel free to leave them in a review! Thanks for all your lovely responses last time. I do read every one, even if I don't respond to all of them. 3

Enjoy this one, lovelies! We're so close to the halfway point (i.e. Me—thrown in the metaphorical deep end xD) !

…

I arrived home just as CNN broke the story.

It was a heavy news day, and so the piece only garnered a few seconds' worth of the reporter's time. There was an earthquake in South America, and a political kidnapping in the Middle East, and the story was slipped in between the two.

They discussed the drug bust and the discovery of some highly ranked gang leader that hadn't been in the grouping of people Beau had encountered last night, but their connection had been enough to lead them to the warlord just a few hours later. Apparently, both the woman and the man Beau faced in the alley had pending warrants for their arrests in Texas and Oklahoma, for possession and murder.

"The coverage here in town will be light," Archie told me. I swiveled my head away from the TV screen to look at him, where he stood at the bottom of the stairs. "It was a good call to have Carine take them out of state."

I nodded, squinting my eyes at the fuzzy pictures of the two bandits. The man had had a thick beard at the time of the mug shot, and the woman's hair had been fashioned in a severe cut, and been dyed bright red. I didn't think Beau would recognize the two, but regardless, I hoped he wasn't watching the news this morning. He needn't worry when there wasn't reason to.

I had succeeded in my endeavors, I supposed. The group of thugs was no longer causing harm, and I was not a murderess. As of late, anyway.

I supposed I should have been happy about this, but I found myself hoping the two would be extradited to Houston for their trial, where the death penalty was ever so popular.

I shook my head sharply. I would focus on what was important, what was concrete now, and put this eventful night behind me.

I headed toward the stairs to shower and change for school.

"Archie, do you mind—?"

"Royal will drive," he interjected, "He'll act pissed, but you know he looks for any excuse he can to show off his car."

We laughed together as I climbed the stairs, but both of our chortling cut off short when I reached the landing and found Royal standing there. He'd heard the entire discourse. He narrowed his eyes at me as I mashed my lips together and cast a look over my shoulder at Archie.

He was obviously restraining himself, and we both burst into guffaws once more, over something that wasn't really all that funny. But that was the way with Archie and I—a couple of misfits in a land of misfits…

…

I felt a hint of unease when I pulled into Beau's empty driveway just a little while later.

The human adage said that things looked differently in the morning, and I wondered how much of that was true for Beau. Had the truth set in while he'd slept? Would I look more sinister than I had last night, in the foggy pallor of a new day?

It had seemed he'd dreamed peacefully last night. He'd murmured my name a number of times, and had once even asked me to stay with him. Would that mean nothing today?

I waited anxiously, listening to the sounds of him inside the house—stumbling, quick footsteps on the stairs, the contents of the refrigerator crashing against each other when the door slammed, the sharp zip of his rain jacket, the thunk of books shifting in his bag as he pulled it over his shoulder, the jingle of keys, the turn of a doorknob…

I held my breath when he appeared on the front porch, looking a tad scattered, and I realized that he was running late—probably forced to drive slower than was preferable in that old, rusting truck of his.

He wore a thick, shapeless green sweater this morning, but he held his shoulders slightly hunched, as if it were not warm enough.

I compared this outfit choice to the one from the night before and debated over which one I preferred.

Last night, his thin sweater had hugged his chest, his arms; it had made the blue of his eyes pop.

This sweater hid his figure from me, draped the broadness of his shoulders and the sculpt of his chest in secret. I decided it was better that he wore the unbecoming clothes today. It kept that strange new yearning inside me tamed when I couldn't as easily stare at the sleek shape of his body. I couldn't afford to make mistakes, and it would be an enormous error to deign on those yearnings that thoughts of his perfect lips… his skin… his arms, and chest… Yearnings were shaking loose inside of me that had evaded me, somehow, for nearly a hundred years.

I could not allow myself to think of touching him. He would fracture and break under my monstrosity. He was too fragile.

Beau turned away from the now locked door. He was in such a rush that he'd paced several steps down the driveway before he saw me. He skidded to a stop, and I heard his heart stutter.

Oops. I'd startled him… And there was that bewildered puppy dog expression again. So adorable.

I wound down the passenger side window and leaned toward him, trying not to laugh.

"Would you like a ride to school?" I asked him. I said it with a smile, but I was suddenly unsure. Would his slumber have aided to remind him of my danger? Would he want nothing more to do with me now that he knew of my atrocity, my crime against humanity? At any rate, I would let this be his choice. From here on out, everything would happen according to his say.

And then I was no longer afraid of the rejection, because his blue eyes swam with warmth and pleasure and fascination. There wasn't an inkling of the fear I had hated to anticipate.

"Yeah, thanks," he said. He opened the door and ducked inside.

I didn't think the fact that he'd chosen me would ever lose its thrill, and I found myself grinning as he slumped into the seat beside me. This was wholly incomparable to the happiness I felt when I was amongst my family. Nothing could top the euphoria I felt in Beau's presence.

He noticed, then, the light tan jacket I had slung over the passenger headrest. It was Royal's, and though he wouldn't be particularly overjoyed about my… sharing… I didn't care. Beau's health was more important than Royal's petty wrath.

I already had the heat blasting, in the event that Beau accepted my ride to school.

"What's this?" he asked, throwing it a pointed glance.

"Royal's jacket. I didn't want you to catch a cold or something."

I watched disapprovingly as he very carefully picked the jacket up and set it on the backseat. Then he reached forward into his bag and pulled out the scarf I'd lent him last night. He put that on the backseat as well.

"I'm good," he told me, and then thumped his fist against his chest twice. "Immune system in top form."

I laughed, thinking he was adorably ridiculous, but I didn't argue my point, relenting as I reversed out of the driveway and headed toward the high school.

He was quiet for a good few blocks, and I allowed it, until curiosity overcame me.

"What, no Twenty Questions today?"

"Was that annoying last night?" He sounded embarrassed.

"Not annoying," I assured him, "just… confusing."

"What does that mean?" he inquired, sounded surprised.

"Your reactions—I don't understand them," I explained.

"My reactions?"

I glanced at him, cocking an eyebrow. "Yes, Beau. When someone tells you they drink blood, you're supposed to get upset. Make a cross with your fingers, throw holy water, run away screaming, that sort of thing."

"Oh. Um… I'll do better next time?"

Bafflement. Pure bafflement.

"By all means, please work on your expressions of horror," I joked.

"Horror isn't exactly how I'd describe last night."

In equal measure, joy and irritation consumed me, and I sighed. There he went again, flirting with peril.

"So, um, where's the rest of your family?" he asked after a minute.

"They took Royal's car," I told him as I pulled into the school parking lot. I pointed vaguely to the glossy red BMW as I pulled in next to it. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"If he's got that, why does he ride with you?"

Royal would have liked Beau's reaction… If he were being a little more objective and a little less irritating.

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

I gathered my bag.

Beau laughed as he popped open his door. "No offense, but you're totally failing there."

I rolled my eyes and got out, too. His carefree laughter filled my bosom with warmth, even as the doubt clouded my mind.

"Why did Royal drive today if it's more conspicuous?"

Was he trying to unearth every one of my vulnerabilities?

"My fault," I confessed, "As usual, Royal would say. Haven't you noticed, Beau? I'm breaking all the rules now."

I slung the strap of my bag over my shoulder and rounded the hood to fall into step beside him. I walked as close as I dared, wanting to bask in the warmth of his presence, wanting to touch him, but being too afraid of the consequences. Twice, his hand flickered in my direction, and then he would snatch it back, and I suspected that he wanted to reach out and touch me, like he had last night, but he resisted.

I suspected it was because I had asked him to be more careful in the car last night. Suddenly, I didn't want him to be so careful. But I quickly reigned in that desire. Yes. We would need to be careful. For his safety.

"Why do you even have cars like that?" he asked as we walked onto campus, "If you're looking for privacy, there are plenty of used Hondas available."

I would have liked to see Royal's reaction to that suggestion. "It's an indulgence," I admitted with a sheepish smile, "We all like to drive fast."

"Of course," he muttered darkly under his breath.

No. No way. My man, Beau! How the hell did he score this good? I do not get it…!

Jeremy Stanley was waiting for Beau underneath the cafeteria roof's awning, and his boggled mental cries caught my attention. He was holding Beau's jacket over his arm.

"Hey, Jer," Beau called when we were nearly upon him, "Thanks for bringing that."

Jeremy's mind was an incoherent swirl of question as he passed the jacket over silently.

"Good morning, Jeremy," I greeted him with a small smile, deciding I should use my manners around Beau's friends, whether I was a fan of them or not.

Gah—wha… Huh? "Er… hi." He dragged his eyes to Beau's face, desperately scrambling for a hold on his mental stability. "Guess I'll see you in Trig," he told him.

"Yeah, see you then," Beau agreed.

Jeremy's thoughts re-ordered, though still frantic, as he turned away and headed for his first class, glancing back at us twice.

No way. I just can't believe this. Edythe freaking Cullen! Howw?! How long has this been going on? Was last night planned—had he been planning to ditch us the whole time? Why on earth would he keep this a secret? God—he gets to shag that, and he tells no one? I mean, he's still with her this morning, so they had to have gotten up to something last night… I wonder what base he's gotten to… I wouldn't put it past her, the freaky little thing that she is… I tuned him out.

"What are you going to tell him?" I asked Beau.

"Huh?" He looked at me, and then glanced toward Jeremy's retreating back. "Oh. What's he thinking?"

No way was I cluing him in without knowing what he was thinking first. "I don't know if its entirely ethical for me to tell you that…" I hedged.

"What's not ethical is for you to hoard your unfair advantages to yourself," he teased.

I grinned. Alright, then, I could be fair. "He wants to know if we're secretly dating. And exactly which base you've gotten to with me."

As expected, the blood rushed into Beau's face with alarming speed and concentration. Unconsciously, I had moved too close, and his scent burst into the air between us. I gritted my teeth against the agony in my throat and put a foot of distance between us.

"Um, what should I say?" he inquired after a beat. The blood rush faded as quickly as it had come.

I started walking again, wondering how he would react to my suggestions.

"That's a good question," I teased when we came upon his English class door, "I can't wait to hear what you come up with." His choice. This had to be his choice.

"Edythe…" he complained.

Oh, so, so adorable and beguiling. Especially when his bewilderment and my name happened to coincide in the same moment.

Then I paused, spying a piece of hair that had fallen over his forehead. Partially because it was distracting, and partially because I wanted an excuse to touch him, I reached up to brush it away, careful not to touch his skin in the process. He was already chilled enough in the morning air without my frigid touch.

His eyes widened slightly, warmth glowing beneath his skin, and his heart skipped. This was definitely not a fear reaction, and ecstasy burst forth inside my chest.

"See you at lunch," I said to him, and then headed for my own first class of the day.

As I crossed the soggy grass toward building eight, I vaguely noticed the varying degrees of suspicion, shock and awe in the students' minds, as their eyes flickered between Beau and my retreating figure.

I took my usual seat, glad for once that my teachers had long ago stopped calling on me. Today might have been the day they caught me unawares… For, as always, I was watching Beau. He held a short conversation with McKayla, but quickly directed the dialogue toward Jeremy.

I actually laughed out loud, one short note of victory—ha!—and it drew attention. Several students glanced back at me, and I was grateful that class hadn't started yet.

I was also monitoring Jeremy—loosely. He was still putting together the questions he would have for Beau in fourth period Trigonometry, and I found myself anticipating their conversation with great fervor, though I could tell the nature of how it would go from Jeremy's standpoint, and I wasn't overall pleased with it. But maybe I'd get more answers.

I was also watching Allen Weber.

I had not forgotten his unrelenting kindness toward Beau, and I was grateful for it. That, and he had been the one to clue me in on the fact that Beau had gone missing last night. I kept tabs on him throughout the morning, hoping I could discover something that he wanted, and to be able to give it to him in thanks. I assumed it would be an easy task—there had to be some gadget, toy, video game, that he wanted. I would deliver it anonymously and call us even.

But Allen was oddly satisfied for a teenage boy. Happy. He was one of those people who had what they wanted, and wanted what they had. If he wasn't paying attention to his teachers and taking notes, he was thinking of his younger twin sisters, who he was planning to take to the beach this weekend. He felt an almost paternal love for them. He was often left in charge of the two, but he did not resent this fact. It made me like him even more.

But not what I was looking for. There had to be something he wanted… But that would have to wait, because suddenly, I was distracted.

Beau and McKayla were walking across campus together after class had ended, and the conversation had taken an unexpected turn.

McKayla was trying to figure out how to broach the subject of prom with Beau. Apparently, Taylor assumed Beau was taking her and McKayla wanted to know if it was true.

"… Maybe we can get a group thing together for prom. Share a limo," she was saying.

Out of her periphery, I saw Beau stop walking.

"Uh, I wasn't really planning on prom…"

I sighed. I would have to find the reasoning for that some other time. I focused on McKayla's reply.

"Really? Shocking!" What is it with this guy and social outings? "You might want to mention it to Taylor, though. She says you're taking her." Moment of truth, here it comes. Gawd, I am gonna be so mad if he is taking her… Like, I'm way closer to him than Taylor is, and I, like, have actual feelings for him, unlike Taylor, who just feels bad because she, y'know, almost crushed him with her van… Victims' attraction and all that…

I tuned her out and listened for Beau's response. I was not disappointed. Beau's jaw totally unhinged, lips parting with an audible pop. I laughed out loud, and Rachel Sawyer glanced over at me.

Freak, she thought.

I ignored that.

"Are you serious?!" Beau was saying now, voice breaking, "I mean, she was probably joking."

"Logan and Jeremy were talking about getting started early and putting together a big thing for prom, and then Taylor said she was out because she already had plans—with you. That's why Logan's being so… you know…" A few insults suggested themselves to her. "…about you. He has a thing for Taylor…"

I didn't listen to the rest. But this particular nugget of information was interesting.

Nothing eventful happened in the interim between his Government class and Trigonometry, but I reigned in my focus once again, watching Beau walk into the classroom through Becca Lancer's eyes.

Jeremy was already in his seat, both knees bouncing impatiently.

Huh. Dude looks… Upset. Did something happen? Did they break up? His mind started playing through the possibilities of my availability almost immediately. He had no regard for what Beau would have felt if that were even in the realm of possibility, and besides, he didn't look upset—he looked nervous. He knew I would be listening, and I couldn't help but smile to myself from where I sat in my assigned seat at the back of my own fourth period English lesson.

"Dang, son. Who knew you had that kind of game?"

Beau rolled his eyes, already done with Jeremy's theatrics, and I giggled. "I have no game," he replied. Oh, on the contrary…

"Please." Jeremy reached over to punch Beau in the arm. "Edythe Cullen. C'mon. How did you swing that?" Jeremy's mind was filled with all the creative possibilities.

"I didn't do anything."

"How long has this been happening? Is it some kind of secret? Like, she doesn't want her family to know? Is that why you pretended you were going to the movie with us?"

"I wasn't pretending anything. I had no idea she was in Port Angeles last night. She was the last person I expected to see."

What? But… Oh… Jeremy's enthusiasm deflated in response to Beau's steady honesty.

"Have you ever been out with her before last night?"

"Never."

Huh. It sounds like he's telling the truth. Why is he being so secretive about this? If I were him, I'd be shouting this conquest at the top of my lungs.

"Huh. Just a total coincidence?"

"I guess."

No way… I know that look. He's lying! I'm totally gonna call him out on it! Let's see if I can rile him up… Get something out of him that way.

"Because, you know, it's not a secret that you've been, like, obsessed with her since you got here."

What?

Beau winced, not denying this claim in the least.

Glowing emotion expanded inside me. Obsessed? And he hadn't denied it. So, apparently, I was not the only one with an issue in enchantment.

This realization had that palpable joy exploding inside me like fireworks.

"It's not?" he asked.

I still don't get it… Like, Beau's kind of a loser. How did he manage…? "So, I have to wonder how you turned that around." Maybe he's got, like, some mad make out skills… "Do you have a genie in a lamp? Did you find some blackmail on her? Or did you trade your soul to the devil or something?"

"Whatever, man." Beau was getting irritated, and Jeremy noted this with pleasure. I noted it with disapproval. Why was this necessary, to talk to him like this?

Jeremy's thoughts perused a different avenue.

"Exactly how much did you get in the bargain? Bet it was a pretty wild night, eh?"

"It was an early night. Home by eight." Beau's voice was calm, but something like metallic anger glinted in his eyes.

"Are you serious?" Jeremy was extremely disappointed.

"It was just dinner and a ride home, Jeremy."

He was lost. "What about this morning, though? You were still with her."

"Still? No! What—you thought she was with me all night?" Beau looked slightly mortified.

Jeremy was still mystified. This hadn't been what he'd expected to hear in the slightest. "She wasn't?"

"No."

"But you were in her car—"

"She picked me up for school this morning."

But…? "Why?"

"I have no idea. She offered me a ride. I wasn't going to say no."

That was all he thought it was?

"And that's it?"

Through Jeremy's eyes, I watched Beau shrug.

"Really? Please tell me you at least made out with her—anything."

"It's not like that." Did I detect the hint of disappointment in Beau's tone? He cast his eyes away from Jeremy now, avoiding his gaze.

Damn. Tough luck. Looks like he wanted it…

I frowned. Beau did look upset about something. His eyebrows pulled together as he continued to avoid Jeremy's gaze, but it couldn't be that. After all he'd discovered about me last night, I would think the last thing on his mind would be kissing me.

The image rose, sudden and unbidden, behind my eyes. For half a second I imagined what it might be like to kiss Beau. My lips, pressed to his… Cold, unyielding stone to warm, plush softness…

And then he dies.

I shook the insane notion away, wincing.

"That is, hands down, the most disappointing story I've ever heard in my entire life. I take back everything I said about your game. Obviously, it's just some pity thing."

"Yeah, probably."

Wait. What did that mean? How could he possibly think that?

"Maybe I should try to look more pathetic. If that's what Edythe is into."

Okay. That was enough. I felt my fists curl into hard balls underneath the desk.

"Go for it."

What?! That response, too, was completely senseless! Did he really believe the absurdity this boy was feeding him?

"It won't take her long to get bored with you, I bet."

For just a moment, Beau's eyes flashed in that strange, metallic way again. His voice was like thinly veiled glass. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right."

I didn't know how to make sense of that, either.

Damn, look at him get all defensive. Jeremy thought smugly. Time to put the nail in the coffin.

"You know what, though? I think I'd rather be with a normal girl."

It was true, Jeremy did think of me as strange—again, those long-standing survival instincts. He thought I was intimidating, and had felt like a complete idiot this morning when I'd greeted him.

"That's probably for the best." Beau's voice was hard. "Keep your expectations low."

Oh yeah. Definitely crazy about her. Weird. I don't—shoot! What did Ms. Varner just say?

The feeling I felt now was unfamiliar and distracting. Despite Beau's words, it had seemed like he was almost trying to… Protective me against Jeremy's slurs. To be thought of in that way was unfamiliar.

But I still couldn't make sense of the other things Jeremy had said to him. Had Beau really believed that his feelings were larger than my own—that I was only doing this out of pity? That I would grow bored with him?

Beau was easily the singularly most exciting being I had met in my entire existence.

Obviously, he didn't think the same of himself, and I wondered where things had twisted so severely out of shape for him. How had things ended up so wrong inside his head? Maybe it's just a pity thing? Maybe I shouldn't rule out the possibility of Beau's mental instability quite yet.

I glared daggers at the clock, wondering how mere minutes could feel like such an eternity.

Lunch could not come fast enough.

…

I could hardly bring myself to check in with Jeremy during the next hour. His musings on the relationship between Beau and I had been completely pushed to the wayside, and he was now focused on his newfound obsession with McKayla Newton. I'd had just about enough of the two of them to last me an eternity.

He had hardly gotten me any answers, but that was okay. I would give it all of my effort to get more out of Beau at lunch. He would not escape my inquisition, not this time. Especially not after all that confusion over pity and boredom.

I moved listlessly through Gym class with Archie, the way we always moved when we were forced to partake in physical activity around humans. He was my teammate, of course. It was the first day of badminton. I sighed with weariness, swinging the racket in slow motion to tap the birdie back to the other side. Logan Mallory was on the other team; he missed. Archie was spinning his racket on the tip of his pointer finger, staring apathetically up at the ceiling.

We all despised gym, Eleanor especially. Throwing games was an insult to her personal philosophy. Gym seemed worse today than usual—I felt just as irritated as Eleanor always did.

So I was glad when Coach Clapp dismissed the class early. I was exceedingly grateful that she had skipped breakfast—a new diet effort—and the resulting hunger had her in a hurry to hunt out something fatty and carb-loaded. She made a vow to start again on Monday.

This gave me enough time to get to the Spanish building before Beau's class let out.

Have fun, Archie thought as he headed off to escort Jessamine to the cafeteria, Let me know when I can introduce myself to my ol' buddy.

I shook my head, exasperated. When would he give it a rest?

Oh—and just so you know, it's going to be sunny on both sides of the sound this weekend. Might want to rearrange your plans.

Exasperating, yes, but also very useful.

I leaned against the wall to wait for Beau. I was close enough that I could hear Jeremy's physical voice, as well as his mental tenor.

"You're not sitting with us at lunch today, are you?" He looks all… Keyed up. Kid is definitely holding out on me.

"Um, not sure," Beau answered, oddly hesitant.

Hadn't I told him I'd see him at lunch? What was going through his adorably thick skull?

Jeremy headed for the door without waiting for Beau, feeling a tad betrayed. He had assumed, since they'd been friends for awhile, that Beau's loyalty would have been with him instead of just 'some chick', but apparently he had been wrong. He was still lost in thought when he came out the door and saw me standing there, waiting for Beau.

He skidded to a stop.

"Seriously, what the hell," he said, a little unnecessarily loud. He glanced back over his shoulder, shook his head, and then walked away.

I had to wait some more for Beau to exit. Each time another student came through the doorway and caught sight of me, they would glance back at Beau before continuing on. It began to amuse me, and by the time Beau exited the classroom, I was barely holding back my smile.

"Hello, Beau."

His eyes were wide and bright. "Hi."

"Hungry?"

"Sure," he said easily.

I turned toward the cafeteria, slinging the strap of my bag over my shoulder. To my surprise, Beau jumped forward.

"Hey, let me get that for you."

I turned doe-eyes on him. "Does it look too heavy for me?"

"Well, I mean…" he stammered.

"Sure." I slid the bag down my arm, anticipating how this would end with some amusement. Archie had me bring a couple extra books for him today, and I wondered if, all along, this had been part of his plan. A little comedic relief, so to speak.

I held the bag out to Beau, purposefully holding it with just the tip of my smallest finger. There was no resistance, no effort in holding the bag up. This was nothing.

"Er, thanks." He reached out and gripped the strap. I released my hold, and the ensuing scene did not disappoint.

Beau managed to catch it before it hit the ground, and he huffed with the effort it took not to stumble under the weight of the cream-colored Marc Jacobs Crossbody. He swung it, with some effort, over his free shoulder.

We started walking again.

"Do you always bring your own cinder blocks to school?"

I laughed. "Archie asked me to grab a few things for him this morning."

"Is Archie your favorite brother?" The question was casual and completely unassuming.

I looked at him, trying to infuse the right amount of disapproval into my expression. I didn't think I succeeded. "It's not nice to have favorites."

"Only child," he said in way of explanation, "I'm everyone's favorite."

Certainly mine. "It shows," I deadpanned. "Anyway, why do you think that?"

"Seems like you talk about him most easily."

Hm. That was reasonable enough, I supposed. And I wondered why talk of Archie came so easily. He was the most supportive, yes, but I had to wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that Archie was, at every available opportunity, trying to weasel his way in to Beau's life.

I led Beau over to the food line once we were inside and picked up a tray.

I didn't pay any mind to my siblings, who were already sitting at their table, until Archie's thoughts became unexpectedly ecstatic. I looked up. He was smiling at Beau, and Beau was smiling, somewhat hesitantly, back at him.

I was surprised by the flame of anger that rolled through me, almost a strange sense of possessiveness. Beau had hardly adjusted to the idea of me. I really was not a fan of overwhelming him with everything and everyone at once. Especially over-enthusiastic Archie.

Just because he was the psychic, and he was so set on the future, didn't mean he could get his way all the damn time.

Oh, come on, Edy, he taunted, holding my eye from across the room, Let me say hi to my old pal, Beau. He purposefully pulled his lips back from his teeth until his smile was just a wide snarl. He was baiting me, and he knew that I knew it.

Back off, I wanted to tell him, but I supposed my facial expressions would need to be enough. I lifted my eyebrows, and curled my top lip just a tad.

He rolled his eyes and held his hands up. Fine, fine. You win. I'll wait one more day.

That settled, I turned my back to my 'favorite' brother, who was quickly becoming my most annoying brother, and began to pile food on the tray without pausing to look at it.

"I'm pretty close with all my family," I explained to Beau now, knowing that Archie was listening, "but Archie and I do have the most in common. Some days he's really annoying, though."

Archie was laughing at me, unbothered by my jab.

I stepped forward to the cash register so the lunch lady could ring us up.

"That'll be twenty-four-thirty-three."

"What?" Beau said, distracted, and then looked down at the tray.

I paid, and then headed for the table we'd sat at last week. So much had changed since then… Had it just been a few days ago?

"Hey," he hissed, and I could hear him scramble to catch up with me, "I can't eat all that."

"Half is for me, of course."

He gave me a doubtful look, but I ignored it and sat down, pushing the tray of food into the center of the table. I didn't know his preferences yet, so I had selected one of everything.

He raised his eyebrows, still skeptical. "Really."

"Take whatever you want."

He sat, lowering our bags to the floor. At the other end of the table, a few seniors watched us, their minds blank with awed surprise. I didn't give them any attention.

"I'm curious," Beau said now, "What would you do if someone dared you to eat food?" His voice was low, too quiet for human ears to pick up. Immortal ears, however… Would easily perceive his words, if they were so inclined. I realized I probably should have said something to them earlier… Oops. My bad.

"You're always curious," I complained, and then made a face. Of course I'd eaten human food before—I had a charade to uphold. A very disgusting, non-pleasant part of the charade, but still… I picked up the thing closest to me, a triangle shaped, doughy, cheesy, greasy thing, and tore off the tip, popping the small bite in my mouth. I chewed as quickly as I could and forced the morsel down my throat.

It dropped hollowly into my empty stomach.

I sighed as I thought about how I'd have to regurgitate it later. Horrendous.

Beau stared at me, looking impressed, his eyebrows raised, a very slight hint of a smile on his lips.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?"

The small smile broke into a wide grin. "I did once… on a dare. It wasn't so bad."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised. Here." I offered him the rest of whatever I'd eaten. The oleaginous slime of it still coated my tongue and esophagus. Ugh.

He took a bite and began to chew.

What. The. Hell! Okay, there is so something going on over there. Look at them leaning toward each other like that. If I didn't know better, I'd say she liked him.

I locked eyes with him, and he averted his gaze quickly, cursing internally. His face flooded beet red, embarrassed at being caught.

I giggled softly.

"What?" Beau inquired.

"You've got Jeremy so confused," I explained.

"Tough." The muscles in his jaw flexed, and I recognized that metallic glint in his eyes again.

"He really let his mind run wild when he saw you get out of my car," I hinted.

He only shrugged, wordless, and took another bite of… Whatever it was.

I tilted my head to the side, curious to the point of desperation. I was barely containing myself. "Do you truly agree with him?"

He looked up, swallowing too quickly, and he began to choke. I half jumped up.

Before I could take action, he held up a hand, quickly recovering. "I'm fine," he said, "Agree with him about what?"

"Why I'm here with you."

He thought for a long, agonizing moment, and then I saw the flash of some emotion in his eyes I couldn't quite make out.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Lies! He was avoiding it, and I couldn't fathom why. I gave up the gentle ease into the conversation and quoted Jeremy's earlier words: "'Obviously, it's just some pity thing'?" The irritation spiked through me anew. How could he, in his mere seventeen years of mortal life, ever doubt that my affections—with nearly a century to build—could be based on something as insignificant, as petty, as pity and boredom?

"It's as good an explanation as any," he said.

"And I'll be getting bored soon, will I?"

He was obviously hurt by this. He didn't do a very good job of hiding it as he shrugged. He really, truly believed this, and that realization struck me so suddenly it left me frozen for a sixteenth of a second. It didn't matter that I had made my affections clear. It hadn't gotten through to him.

It baffled me that he could not see in himself what was so obvious to me. His kindness, his bravery, his self-sacrifice…

"Beau," My dear, dear Beau… "You're being ridiculous again."

"Am I?"

How to change this perspective he had of himself? "There are several things I am currently worried about. Boredom is not one of them." I tilted my head to the side, seeing the doubt in his eyes. "Don't you believe me?"

"Um, sure, I guess. If you say so."

I felt my eyes narrow. "Well, that was an overwhelming affirmative." Heavy sarcasm.

I watched as he took another bite of food and chewed slowly, contemplatively. His eyes were full of unspoken thoughts and reservation, and even though I knew it wouldn't work, I probed the steel wall of his mind once more.

When he took a second bite without speaking, I huffed an exasperated breath through my nose.

"I truly loathe it when you do that."

He swallowed what was in his mouth. "What? Not tell you every single stupid thought that passes through my head?"

I fought back my amused smirk. "Precisely."

"I don't know what to say. Do I think you'll get bored with me? Yeah, I do. I honestly don't know why you're still here. But I was trying not to say that out loud, because I didn't want to point something out that you might not have thought of yet."

"So very true," I answered sarcastically, "I never would have realized it myself, but now that you mention it, I really ought to be moving along. That Jeremy suddenly seems alluringly pathetic—" His face fell so drastically, I immediately regretted the joke. Remorse lanced through me, leaving me breathless. His eyes were so full of anguish. "Beau? You know that I'm joking."

He nodded as if he believed me, but his eyes were still miserable, and his face had lost some of its color.

I had hurt his feelings again, and the guilt it brought on had me desperate to comfort him. I remembered what had worked before, and I extended my hand across the table, leaving it in easy reach in case he was so inclined to take it.

Without hesitation, he covered my hand with his own.

All of my siblings reacted to this, but one individual mental voice was the loudest.

WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE, YOU SELFISH BITCH?! HOW COULD YOU? ARE YOU SET ON DESTROYING EVERYTHING CARINE HAS BUILT FOR US?

I winced at the crashing sound of fury in Royal's thoughts.

"Sorry," Beau said, pulling his hand away.

"No," I objected, "It's not you. Here." As lightly as I could, aware of just how breakable he truly was, I rested my fingers in his palm. He folded his fingers around my hand, and the buttery warmth—better than sunshine—enveloped me.

"What was wrong just now?" he inquired in a low voice.

"Many different reactions. Royal has a particularly strident mental voice."

Even now, his thoughts were a blizzard of furious insults and slander. Eleanor was none too happy about Beau's sudden awareness of us, but she was more insulted that I hadn't come to her first. It was more about the lacking loyalty of her sister than the actual breach of injunction.

Beau's eyes shifted over my shoulder, and Royal's feverish abuses suddenly had a different target. I was used to his anger and his slights. But this, I would not stand for.

I wrenched around in my seat, pulling my lip back into a threatening, territorial scowl. He could insult me all he wanted, but to direct those slurs toward Beau was unacceptable. He had done nothing wrong.

Eleanor turned around at once, her thoughts repentant. Royal relented, dropping his threatening stare, but his anger did not quell even marginally.

Sorry, Edy, Archie thought, inappropriately amused by the whole thing, He could tell Beau knew something—and believe me, it would have been a lot worse if I didn't just tell him now. Believe me.

Jessamine was not much happier than Royal, but she kept her composure well.

"Did I just piss off—" Beau swallowed loudly instead of finishing his sentence.

"No," I pacified him fiercely. This was not his doing. I sighed. "But I did."

Beau's eyes shifted over my shoulder once more, and then back to my face. His expression was suddenly severely concerned, even… Protective? "Look, are you in trouble because of me? What can I do?" A flash of panic flickered across his face.

I shook my head, smiling tenderly. I appreciated the gesture, but then again, I did not… "You don't need to worry about me." I could handle myself, despite my 'lack of intimidation'. "I'm not saying that Royal couldn't take me in a fair fight, but I am saying that I never have fought fair and I don't intend to start now. He knows better than to try anything with me."

"Edythe…" His tone was needlessly anxious, and frankly, a tad insulting.

I laughed. "A joke. It's nothing, Beau. Normal sibling issues." As normal as a family of vampire siblings was… "An only child couldn't understand."

"If you say so." I could tell he wasn't wholly convinced.

"I do," I insisted.

His gaze dropped to our hands, which were still folded together on top of the table.

"Back to what you were thinking," I urged.

He sighed.

"Would it help if you knew you weren't the only one who had been accused of obsession?"

He groaned, clearly mortified. "You heard that, too. Great."

I laughed. "I was entranced from start to finish."

"Sorry." Again with the needless apologies!

"Why are you apologizing? It makes me feel better to know I'm not the only one."

He only stared at me, an eyebrow raised in skepticism.

How to make him understand? "Let me put it this way… Though you are the one person I can't be sure about, I'd still be willing to place a very large wager that I spend more time thinking about you than you do about me."

He laughed once. "You would totally lose that bet."

That familiar giddy feeling rose up inside me. Like butterflies in my stomach—or at least something of the sort. What was the immortal equivalent for that?

I raised an eyebrow, and then leaned in conspiratorially. "Ah, but you're only conscious for roughly sixteen hours in any given twenty-four-hour period. That gives me quite a lead, don't you think?"

"You're not factoring in dreams, though," he argued.

I sighed. "Do nightmares count as dreams?"

Color rose under his skin, creeping up his neck toward his face. "When I dream about you… it's definitely not a nightmare."

This took me by pleasant surprise, and I felt suddenly very vulnerable, and shy. "Really?"

"Every single night."

I was filled with sudden jovial warmth, and every inch of me was alive with the thrill. I closed my eyes, and focused on that feeling for a moment, and then opened them, ready to tease again. Because it was impossible to believe that his mere mortal affections could come anywhere close to how much I loved him. I had a century of feelings building up inside me—the strength of my adoration for this boy was unrivaled.

"REM cycles are the shortest of all sleep stages. I'm still hours ahead."

He frowned, not laughing at my joke. "You really think about me?"

I didn't understand. "Why is that hard for you to believe?"

"Well, look at me." I was. "I'm absolutely ordinary—well, except for the bad things like all the near-death experiences and being so uncoordinated that I can barely walk. And look at you." He waved his free hand toward me.

He thought he was ordinary? He thought that I was somehow better than he was? According to whom? To the shallow-minded, poor-sighted humans? How could he not realize he was the most spectacular… the most striking… I struggled to find the words that would do him justice, and failed.

He had no inkling of just how extraordinary he truly was…

"I can't argue with you about the bad things," I said, unable to hide my grin of amusement. The death always clutching at his heels—not funny. The clumsiness, and his general awkwardness, however—incomparably endearing.

"Well, there you go."

"But you're the least ordinary person I've ever met," I continued.

His eyes locked with mine for a long indeterminable moment. His were lost and beseeching; I felt the intensity in my own. I begged him to understand.

"But why…" he began.

I tilted my head, waiting.

"Last night…" he began again.

I frowned, frustrated. "Do you do that on purpose? The unfinished thought as a way to drive me mad?"

"I don't know if I can explain it right," he mumbled.

"Please try." I begged.

He drew in a deep breath. "Okay," he huffed, and than, mercifully, continued, "You're claiming I don't bore you and you aren't thinking of moving on to Jeremy anytime soon."

I nodded, fighting a grin. How could part of him even believe the joke I'd made? It was insanity to think I could ever find Jeremy, the insubstantial individual that he was, intriguing in the slightest.

"But last night…" Beau went on, struggling a bit, "It was like…"

Anxiety rose steadily inside me, like mercury in a glass thermometer. Where was he going with this?

His remaining words spilled out in a rush: "Like you were already looking for a way to say goodbye."

He'd caught that, apparently. Did he realize that my presence here was purely based on selfishness and weakness? Would he think less of me for that?

"Perceptive," I murmured to myself, and the pain I saw twist his expression spurred my own.

Attempting to comfort him, I tightened my hold around his fingers ever so slightly.

"Those two things are unrelated, however," I went on, hurrying to contradict the assumption I had seen in his anguish.

"Which two things?"

"The depth of my feelings for you, and the necessity of leaving," I explained. "Well, they are related, but inversely," I amended.

His eyes widened, bewildered and lost—except that this time, the pain was so apparent along with the confusion, that it wasn't humorous in the least. "I don't understand."

I struggled to form the words. Would I ever be selfless enough, strong enough, to do the right thing? Would I ever be able to leave him to the destiny he deserved? The life he would have if he stayed human—not what Archie had seen coming for him. "The more I care about you, the more crucial it is that I find a way to… keep you safe. From me. Leaving would be the right thing to do." As I said the words, I willed them to be true.

He shook his head. "No." The word was fire.

"Well, I wasn't very good at leaving you alone when I tried. I don't know how to do it."

"Will you do me a favor? Stop trying to figure that one out."

I half-smiled. "I suppose, given the frequency of your near-death experiences, it's actually safer for me to stay close."

"True story," he agreed, more relaxed now, "You never know when another rogue van might attack."

I frowned at that. True.

"You're still going to Seattle with me, right?" he clarified now. "Lots of vans in Seattle. Waiting to ambush around literally every corner." He was trying to make a joke out of it, but I didn't find it funny.

The lunch hour was coming to a close. I only had so much time with him, and I wasn't going to squander it.

"Actually, I have a question for you on that subject. Did you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of saying a definitive no to your bevy of admirers?"

"Um…" I could see I'd hit the nail on the head.

"That's what I thought," I said smugly.

"You know, you actually put me in kind of a difficult position with the whole thing in the parking lot with Taylor."

I couldn't resist. "You mean because you're taking her to prom now?"

His jaw fell open, and then he closed his lips and I could hear his teeth grind together.

It took great self-preservation to bury my laughter. "Oh, Beau," His name was tender on my tongue.

Suspicion rose in his eyes. "What?"

"She already has her dress."

Panic abruptly filled his eyes. They popped wide.

"It could be worse," I reasoned, "She actually bought it before she claimed you for the date. It was secondhand, also, not a large investment. She couldn't pass up the deal."

He was speechless, and I squeezed his hand again—gaining confidence—hoping to soothe him.

"You'll figure it out," I encouraged.

"I don't do dances," he griped.

"If I'd asked you to the spring dance, would you have told me no?" I was genuinely curious.

He gazed at me for a contemplative moment. "Probably not," he admitted, "But I would have found a reason to cancel later. I would have broken my leg if I had to."

How utterly odd. "Why would you do that?"

He shook his head. "You've never seen me in Gym, I guess, but I would have thought you would understand."

Ah. And I suddenly did. "Are you referring to the fact that you can't walk across a flat, stable surface without finding something to trip over?"

"Got it in one," he confirmed.

"I'm a very good teacher, Beau."

For a brief moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would feel like to allow him to hold me in his arms. Surely, he would wear something much more dapper than this shapeless frumpy sweater—something form-fitting and crisp.

With perfect clarity, I recalled the way his body had felt underneath me, when I'd pulled him out of the way of the van. The memory of that sensation was stronger than the panic, stronger than the despair, stronger than the chagrin. He had been so warm, so soft, forming easily to my own granite shape…

I wrenched myself back to the present moment, and away from the inappropriate recall.

"I don't think coordination is a learnable skill."

I shook my head, no longer willing to focus on the dancing, and all the sensations that might provoke. "Back to the question. Must you go to Seattle, or would you mind if we did something different?"

It was deceitful of me—giving him the illusion of choice, despite the fact that I was not willing to allow him out of my sight for the day. But I was looking forward to fulfilling the promise I had made to him last night, too much for my own good. I was anticipating it almost more than I was dreading it.

"I'm open to alternatives," he said willingly, "But I do have another favor to ask."

As I always was when he asked an open-ended question, I asked warily, "What?"

"Can I drive?"

Disappointment flooded me. Was this another one of his jokes? "Why?"

"Well, mostly because you're a terrifying driver." Oh, please. "But also because I told Charlie I was going alone, and I don't want him to get curious."

I rolled my eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving." I shook my head in disgust.

Edythe! Archie was calling, suddenly urgent.

All of a sudden, Beau's face in front of me disappeared, replaced by a blinding shaft of sunlight—wrapped up in one of Archie's visions.

It was a place I was familiar with, a place I'd considered taking Beau—a small, perfectly round meadow I could call my own, because nobody but myself ever went there. It was a serene, beautiful place where I could guarantee a short while of introversion. It was far enough from any trail or any sort of civilization that even my mind could have some respite.

It was familiar to Archie, too, because he had seen me there not long ago, in one of his indistinct, shadowy visions the morning I'd saved Beau from the van.

In that vague, unclear vision I had not been alone. And now, my companion was clear—Beau was in the meadow with me. So I was courageous enough. He stared up at me from where he knelt in the grass, rainbows shimmering across his face, his wide blue eyes awe-filled.

It's the same place, Archie thought, his mind consumed by a horror I couldn't find the reasoning behind. I could understand some tension, perhaps, but horror? What did he mean, 'the same place'?

And then I saw it.

Edythe! he blurted anxiously. Please! Don't!

I blocked him out angrily.

That was impossible. Wrong. It wasn't going to happen. I would not allow it. He was misinformed, somehow, misinterpreting whatever allowed him to see his premonitions. What he was seeing was completely unreasonable.

Not even half a second had passed, and Beau was still watching me, waiting for an answer to his request. Had he seen the flicker of despair, or had it passed across my face too quickly for his human eyes to interpret?

I focused on the boy in front of me, forcing Archie's ridiculous, lying visions from my head. They were not worthy of my attention.

"Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day with me?"

"With Charlie, less is always more." He was much too confident with these words. "Where are we going, anyway?"

I shoved at the unwelcome premonitions once more. Archie was wrong. Dead wrong. Things had changed so much, since then. The vision was outdated.

"Archie says the weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye… and you can stay with me, if you'd like to."

He caught on immediately, his eyes bright with fascination. "And you'll show me what you meant, about the sun?"

"Yes. But if you don't want to be… alone with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of all the vans."

"As it happens," he replied, "I don't mind being alone with you."

Of course not—because his reflexes were all backwards.

"I know. You should tell Charlie, though."

He shook his head. "Why on earth would I do that?"

I glared at him, the visions I couldn't quite manage to suppress swirling through my mind with sickening potency. "To give me some small incentive to bring you back."

He stared evenly at me. "I'll take my chances."

I sighed angrily and looked away. Why had Archie forced this knowledge on me now? Why was it relevant?

And Beau—did he get some sick thrill out of risking his life? Was he some sort of twisted adrenaline junkie?

I glared at Archie, who met my fury with a warning glance, his eyebrows raised in a surprisingly paternal way. Beside him, Royal was still furiously derogative, but I didn't care. He pushed back his chair angrily, gripped his Calculus book, and stormed from the room.

"So that's settled," Beau said, regaining my attention, "New topic?"

"What do you want to talk about?"

He glanced left, and then right, as if checking for eavesdroppers. It was needless to tell him that I would be aware of such a thing before he was.

"Why did you go to that Goat Rocks place last weekend… to hunt? Charlie said it wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."

I just stared at him, waiting for him to catch on.

"Bears?" he gasped two seconds later.

I smirked at him, watching it sink in. Would this make him anymore cautious of me? Would it make him take me seriously? Would anything, at this point?

He pulled himself together. "You know, bears are not in season," he told me as sternly as he could.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons."

He lost his composure again. "Bears?"

"Grizzly is Eleanor's favorite," I informed him. I watched him carefully for his reaction.

"Hmmm." He took another bite, eyes cast down at the table. He chewed slowly, and then swallowed.

"So. What's your favorite?"

I supposed maybe I should have expected a question like that, but I hadn't. "Mountain lion," I answered disparagingly.

"Sure, that makes sense," he said, nodding casually.

Fine, then. If he wanted to act all natural and off-handed, like we were merely discussing a favorite restaurant…

"Of course, we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators—ranging as far away as we need. There are always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but where's the fun in that?" I had to smile.

"So not fun." Hmm. Still casual.

So I continued on with the casual topic. "Early spring is El's favorite bear season—they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable." I smirked, remembering her dance with the bear last week. Seventy years later, and she still hadn't gotten over her loss against the first one.

"Nothing better than an irritated grizzly bear," he agreed, nodding. His face was still carefully composed—too composed, like a mask.

I gave up, laughing. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it, but I can't. How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"

Again, he was missing the point. "Oh, we have weapons." And I curled my lips back from my teeth in a grin that was more a snarl than a smile. "Just not any kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Eleanor hunting."

He shot a glance across the cafeteria at her, and I followed his gaze. Eleanor flexed her muscles, knowing he was watching.

Get a load of this, kid, she taunted, knowing I was listening.

I laughed.

He turned his unsettled gaze back on me. "Is it dangerous? Do you ever get hurt?"

I had to laugh at his ill-placed concern. "Oh, Beau," I said tenderly, "About as dangerous as your slice."

He glanced down at the remainder of his food. "Yikes. So… are you… like a bear attack?"

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," I said, trying to sound dismissive, "Perhaps our preferences are indicative."

"Perhaps," he echoed quietly. It looked like he tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace instead. "Is that something I might get to see?"

I didn't need Archie's help to picture these horrors—my imagination was quite adept in doing that itself.

"Never!" I hissed. I pulled my hand back and wrapped my arms around myself. He was never going to get it, was he? He was not going to be much help in aiding the preservation of his life—I could tell that much.

His hand lay empty on the table, and his heart was hammering. "What did I say?"

I shut my eyes for a minute, regaining control. "I almost wish it were possible. You don't seem to understand the realities present. It might be beneficial for you to see exactly how dangerous I actually am."

"Okay, then, why not?" he pushed, completely undeterred.

I glared at him for a long moment, wishing for him to be afraid. He waited for his answer.

"Later," I retorted and rose to my feet, "We're going to be late."

He glanced around the nearly empty cafeteria, seeming to notice it for the first time. I understood how he was feeling. I, too, lost track of all sense and reason when I was with him.

He jumped to his feet, stumbling once, and picked up our bags off the floor.

"Later, then," he agreed, his voice hard with resolve. Apparently he was going to hold me to that.

…

A/N: Ughh… This chapter gave me trouble and I don't know why! But I think I got it done at any rate. Also, I've been uploading so frequently, because these first eleven (and a half) chapters are very easy to write—copying some dialogue, changing the perspective a tad. The real work starts later, and my uploading will most likely be a little slower. Like, weekly, I'm thinking. But for now, you get my notifications all up in your grill! xD Be glad! See you all soon! xo