XXXX

To my surprise I do fall into a deep and dreamless sleep about one o'clock in the morning. Charlie comes in to wake me up and say goodbye as he's off early. I wave him goodbye, still shrouded in my covers and then throw them off and stagger to the bathroom. Facing myself in the mirror, my eyes are immediately drawn to the marks on the side of my neck. Hmmm… this could be a problem.

I contemplate my wardrobe with some care, not so much emulating Jessica but more trying to find something that might cover my neck but not make me look like a nun. I have some more wardrobe choices than yesterday thanks to the good work of the washing machine and dryer but I still can't find anything that covers my neck. In desperation, I dig out a scarf that my mother gave me, in soft wrinkled cotton all screwed up into various twists. Not the sort of thing I would usually wear but it works. I'm ready well ahead of time so I watch the street from my bedroom window while pacing up and down. At two minutes to eight, a glance out the window shows something silver and European-looking parked outside. Oh my God, it's Bond, Edward Bond and his silver Aston Martin. I fly down the stairs and out to the car which turns out to be a Volvo, (ewwww), but at least not one of those horrible boxy ones. Actually Volvo used to be part of Ford's premier automotive group alongside Aston Martin but then they sold it to a Chinese company…

Preoccupied by my thoughts of foreign carmaker ownership, I fail to notice that Edward has come round to open the door for me and our hands brush together reaching for the door handle. I withdraw my hand by pure spinal reflex without any engagement from my brain, just as if it had been burnt and Edward does the same. My hand might not be burnt but I'm spontaneously combusting with embarrassment and awkwardness. Edward merely moves on, opening the door for me as if nothing happened. I have to smile gratefully for his politeness and ruefully at my lack of grace (if you can do that with one smile). As I take my seat in his car, I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my hand for a moment, probably because his hand was freezing. These cold mornings in Forks really suck.

Edward's car is spotlessly clean. I take a moment to just relax and enjoy sitting in a lovely imported car being driven to school by the most gorgeous boy I've ever seen. Even if this all goes down the drain in a major way or up the creek or any other disastrous direction, I should make this memory to enjoy, right?

Bizarrely, Edward starts out by thanking me. Right. Then he gets down to business. He has taken my half-baked suggestion and run with it. I'm momentarily concerned that he's already worked out that it was me, hence the invitation for the drive. He's going to soften me up with leather seats and then hit me with a "Please explain" at the end. But no, my secrets are my own for the moment. He seems to think that the idea of going through the class list, playing detective was nothing short of brilliant. I have to laugh at that.

He's tackling this in a very thorough and logical way. What else did I expect? When he asks for help, it's almost too much for me for a moment. I'm so close to confessing, I have to bite the inside of my cheek but shame and fear keep me silent. I'll just enjoy this little Edward patch while I can, I tell myself and then I'll tell him the truth when I get the chance and he'll never speak to me again (except possibly through a lawyer).

The ride to school is far too short (due to his insane driving – Charlie would not approve). Edward is surprisingly literary, quoting Macbeth, but otherwise fun and teasing and I'm enjoying the whole conversation so much more than I should in the circumstances. When he gets out of the car I quickly throw open my door so that there are no confusing incidents involving door chivalry. I gather my bag and take a step towards the school and I realize that just like my first day everyone is staring at me. Actually it's even worse, they're staring at us. My cloak of invisibility has been rent asunder. Cleft in twain. Generally destroyed.

It's like I've been hit with the immobilizer technology found on all those lovely European cars. My eyes flick around, landing on first one horrible object (Mike Newton with his mouth open) and then another (Lauren looking as if someone had mutilated her puppy). My heart races and I start to feel dizzy. I don't think I can do this. Not again. And then suddenly Edward is leaning over me and asking if I'm okay and I have a vaguely appealing image of gracefully fainting on him and him holding me in his manly arms, immediately replaced by the probable reality in which I fall flat on my face in the mud. I give myself a mental slap across the head and pull myself together enough to shamble forward. Edward keeps giving me little glances and I can't work out what he is thinking, but he ends up walking with me all the way to my locker. I keep stopping at various points, wondering where he is going and giving him the opportunity to take off in a different direction but he merely waits until I carry on and continues to walk with me. It's weird, but great and although I'm aware that there are staring faces everywhere, I can ignore them all and just look at Edward. Except, he's looking worried. I try to give him a reassuring smile that comes out all crooked and I manage to say "Sorry, they were all staring at me and I don't really… I don't like…" My voice trails away. I can't explain my aversion to being the centre of attention to him in the few minutes I have left before he decides that he doesn't want to be seen with me and runs away.

Except he doesn't run. He's looking directly at me as he says "They were all staring at me Bella. Just once, I showed up for school dressed as Elvis and ever since it's like that every day when I arrive."

I give a relieved laugh. He's so obviously trying to make me feel better. His smile widens at my laugh and for a few seconds we just grin at each other and it feels like a really rich and creamy hot chocolate on a bitterly cold day.

"Was it the white jumpsuit with the sequins and the flares or was it early leather jacket Elvis?" I ask, just trying to prolong the moment.

"Late 70s Elvis, with the sideburns, the sequins, the flares, the jewelry, the lot" he returns. "So next time, don't let it worry you. You can stare at me too if you like. Maybe I'll get the Elvis suit out again and really give them something to see". He's still smiling at me, keeping the joke going but all I can hear are the words 'next time'. He's going to give me a lift to school again? Now it's as if I've reached the marshmallow swirl in the middle of the hot chocolate and there's a hint of raspberry as well.

After a pause just long enough for me to become aware that we're not saying anything, Edward reminds me about my sleuthing tasks and leaves with another gorgeous, crooked grin. I turn to my locker and stare blankly at my books, trying to think of what I need for first period. After a few seconds of blankness, I try to remember what subject I have for first period. I fail. I can't think of anything except driving to school with Edward.

I actually have to check my timetable. I try shaking my head to see if I can clear the Edward fog. It probably looks strange but it works, at least enough for me to get out my stuff.

I close my locker door and jump slightly at the sight of Jessica standing next to me looking annoyed through the very heavy make up over her probably still somewhat bruised and definitely swollen nose. The effect is slightly odd, like when someone has their nose subtly straightened and you can't work out what is different, at least until you get out some old photographs for comparison, (but in Jessica's case in reverse).

I'm feeling so good that even Jessica's filthiest bitch glare which she has dialed up to maximum, can't upset me. "Hi Jessica" I say "I hope you're better today".

She narrows her eyes but the move involves scrunching her nose slightly and that obviously hurts so with a slight grunt she goes back to the original bitch glare.

"Edward gave you a lift to school this morning" she says. There's no question, her voice doesn't even rise at the end, so I'm not sure what she wants from me. "Yes" I confirm.

"Why would he do that?"

I'm aware that a few of the other girls are waiting in various spots around the lockers, listening for my answer.

"He wants my help with a project we started yesterday in Biology and he wanted to discuss it some more on the way to school" I'm pleased to be able to stick to the truth here.

"Edward never needs help with Biology. He's always top."

I can agree with this. "I know. When I had to sit next to him at the start of the year, he told me never to talk to him during the class because he wanted to work" I tell her, still sticking to the truth.

She looks mollified to hear that he was rude to me. She stands there for another few seconds and I'm still waiting for her to launch another attack when she turns on her heel and stalks off. Thank fuck. I'm shaking slightly. How am I going to go on with this?