Lunch is hectic. Voices scatter over the cafeteria, trays click against the tables. Jessica and Angela are discussing prom when I sit down, simultaneously scouting for burnished hair among the columns. He's not there. I relax into the chair and blot the grease of my pizza with a napkin.
"What's this about?" I ask, covering my full mouth to keep masticated pizza from falling onto the table.
"What color dresses we want." Angela smiles.
Jessica picks through her salad with a fork. "Do the boys wear matching tuxes or is that only in the movies?"
"I can ask my mom," Angela says. "She would probably know."
"You should ask her if she has any dresses," I suggest.
"I already did. She said it was nothing we would like."
I give up on my pizza just in time to see Edward walking from C Hall, where his classroom is. He's late to lunch duty. He's looking around, hands on his hips, jaw ticking as though he just ate and didn't finish chewing in time.
A hand waves in front of my face. "Earth to Bella," Jessica draws my name out.
"What? Sorry."
"Prom. Dresses. Port Angeles. Did you hear any of that?"
"What? No. No, I'm sorry." I shake my head.
Jessica sighs and leans away from the table. "What's into you? You used to be so here and now you're not. Oh my God. Did you start taking drugs?"
"What? No!"
I look up at Edward. He sees me. I flutter and shy, resistant yet open to his acknowledgement. I'm careful, though. I can't let Jess or Angela know. They can never know. More than that, they would never understand.
But Jess sees what I see and her mouth opens when Edward looks away. "Is it him?" she asks.
Her eyes are heavy on mine. I refute.
"Not this again," Angela says.
"I agree."
"What?" Jess shrugs. "I'm not saying it's bad. So what you think he's hot. Every girl does. It's okay to look." Her pause isn't the end to the conversation. "I just want to know what his deal is."
Edward looks over to us again. He tries to not make it look so obvious. Jessica is on his game.
"See. He keeps looking over here."
"Jess..." I begin to reason.
She doesn't stop. "What? Mr. Cullen totally has the hots for you." The way she blurts it out turns my stomach. I feel sick, anxious.
"Jess! Stop! Do you know what would happen if anyone heard you?"
Her eyes become wide. She can't believe I'm whisper yelling at her. "Chill. Out. I'm just joking."
I lean into the table, into her because she threatens to destroy my secret like it doesn't exist at all. Darkened kitchen and forehead kisses. That secret. Our secret which is bound in rain. "No one else knows you are! What if someone walked by and heard you? You know how fast things get around here! Mr. Cullen would lose his job!"
"That's true," Angela says.
Jess looks back and forth between us. Once a trio turned duo against her non-too-obvious jokes. "Fine." She wrestles to close her chocolate milk carton, and when it doesn't bend the way she wants it, she slams it on her tray and gets up. "Fine."
She storms off, her purse swinging on her arm and her plaid dogs patting on the floor.
"Jess! Wait..." Angela calls after her, but nothing will slow the stubborn train once it's left the station.
"She'll get over it," I say. "When are we going to Port Angeles?"