Chapter Five: The Letter
When we got to Gym, Mike waved and headed into the boy's locker room.
Given that I didn't have a P.E uniform yet, I didn't have to go to the lockers to change. But, thankfully – for everyone involved – Coach Clapp had a brief lecture and explanation of Badminton to go over. So, most of the hour was spent listening to him while he chose (seemingly at random) a few students to help him explain the rules of the game.
It was too loud with the game play, and too quiet during his discussion, to allow for any lengthy conversation.
That didn't stop Eric from trying to ask what happened again, but at least he didn't push the subject when I told him it was okay.
Once class came to a close and everyone went back to their respective locker rooms, I approached Coach Clapp to get my sheet signed for the last time today.
Even taking the temporary respite of social pressure to escape the gymnasium before anyone came back from showers.
Maybe I'd have an easier time making friends if I didn't flee whenever I had a chance to be alone, but I really wanted this day over with.
All I had to do was hand this sheet to the Secretary, pretend I had a great day, and leave. That was it. I could go back to Charlie's house.
Yet, if I thought the Edward Cullen calamity had ended after Fifth Period, then I was giving the universe more kindness than was due.
Because the moment I slipped through the door: Edward was there.
I'd been so eager to walk into the office that I stepped inside without bothering to peer through the little indoor window first.
Immediately, I froze. Studying him for any sign of danger – ridiculous as it was.
Which might have been a good thing, because he did not look happy.
As he leaned onto the counter separating Shelly Cope's desk (among others) from the waiting area, his spine was rigid; shoulders tense.
The air felt antagonistic; like lightning would strike if Shelly Cope said a single thing wrong.
He was so engrossed in whatever Ms. Cope was about to say that he didn't seem to notice my entrance. Even so, I quieted myself as a precautionary measure. Padding away from the door to lurk inside the gap between two plastic chairs and wait for Shelly to be free.
Leaning against the wall, silent as a church mouse, I listened as the 'pleasant argument' between him and Ms. Cope bathed the room in his rich, velvet, voice.
"Surely there must be some other class? Physics? Bio-chem?" He exasperated.
What?!
My mouth fell open in the dismay of it all. The sheer audacity that Edward was REALLY here to – swap classes – because of me!?
What did I do!? Meet his hate for hate?! Defend myself!?
If my eyes could have bulged out of my skull, they would have stabbed that insufferable asshole in the back.
And yet, I said nothing.
Too busy pathetically looming against the wall; mesmerized by his stupidly riveting voice.
Ms. Cope anxiously glanced between Edward and her computer. Clicking her mouse to (presumably) take another look at the class rosters for other science classes.
"The only other science class at your level is Mr. Czapiewski's physics-" She began to say, only to be interrupted in Edward's eagerness to accept any class I didn't have?!
"Marvelous! When may I expect to start?"
If I wasn't so damn angry, I'd have felt sorry for Ms. Cope. The poor woman was sputtering under the wake of whatever smile he was casting her.
"Edw" – She cleared her throat to correct herself – "Mr. Cullen, unfortunately Advanced Physics is already full."
What relief which had begun to soften the stringency of Edward's chiseled shoulders mottled them hard again. Enough for me to notice a sprinkle of neck hair that seemed to stand on its own from the tension in this room.
"Might I drop the class, then? For independent study?" Edward countered serenely. "I can make it up next year."
Ms. Cope stared at him in astonishment. Unable to speak for several seconds.
"That's not something we can authorize without your parents being involved," She insisted, no doubt finding it extremely difficult to tell him: no.
"Please, Ms. Cope," Edward almost purred – wholly taking advantage of the fact that his appearance could make anyone swoon. "Isn't there something I can do in the meantime? Utilize my talents to organize the school library, perchance?"
He tried to laugh, to supposedly ease her anxiety. It sounded the way butter melted over hot toast. Bewitchingly delightful.
Goosebumps spread everywhere at once; against my very will.
"W-well, I s-suppose I could ask Principal Greene if that's alright," Ms. Cope began to meekly offer, only to avert her gaze from Edward to me.
Oh no…
Whether she was trying to break the spell of Edward's charm, or she finally saw me standing there, the reason didn't really matter.
As, with Ms. Cope's attention averted, Edward slowly turned his head to see what had stolen her gaze and saw me.
Prepared for the resurgence of Edward's venom, I blared my narrowing eyes on his stupidly beautiful face.
If he expected me to lower my head to face the floor, to meekly run away - or cry again - then he was going to be sorely disappointed!
I held my ground and he held his.
Neither of us said a DAMN thing. Just bore our eyes into each other as we bristled under the skin.
Terrified, embittered, and fucking roused; I wasn't sure whether I wanted to punch him in the face or deliciously shove myself into him with such force that the counter behind him (and by extension Ms. Cope's innocent computer) became an unintended casualty of war.
Inside, I was screaming. Heart racing; breath burning through my nostrils like some ragged bull. Offended by the obvious, obnoxious, waving about of all those invisible red flags tossed into the air, like confetti.
Ms. Cope seemed to finally realize why Edward wanted to change classes so badly. Her eyes flit between the two of us in an antsy tizzy. Aghast and fretfully concerned – to the point that her hand raised in the air and hovered there.
She wanted to help resolve this conflict. Even seemed to be gearing up to say something, but the office door opened.
And, completely unaware of the giant elephant in this room, a girl I vaguely recognized meandered into the room.
As, seemingly immune to the insufferable tension, she slipped to the counter and set a piece of paper into a metal wire basket beside Ms. Cope.
Whatever it was in that tiny pinprick of sound, that swish of paper that snapped the ice, Edward finally spoke:
"Nevermind, then," He answered. Bitterly. The corner of his mouth tilted in a snarl of contempt and disgust as he refused to look at my face any longer. "I'll just have to endure it."
Endure it. Like I'd fallen in the bog of eternal stench, from the Labyrinth, and his delicate sensibilities couldn't stomach the idea of being anywhere near me.
I'd been called a great many unkind, even blatantly cruel, things in my life – more times than I could rightfully count.
And yet, the revulsion that crawled onto his face as he shirked passed me could not be compared to anything else.
It was like he looked into me, weighed the strength of my entire character, and found me abominable.
At the time, stupefied by the gall of this entitled prick, I didn't realize how this stranger could have pronged a sword into my chest so easily.
The reason would only occur to me once I was half-way back to Charlie's house. As I fought back any further tears that this stupid jerk had aggravated. When that dark voice of malice, be it paranoia or low self-esteem, slipped the idea into my head.
This idea that Edward hated me because I wanted him so much.
That he, like someone else in my past, realized I was into guys and no longer saw me as a person.
And whether or not that was actually the case, the thought alone had butchered me.
So much so that I spent the next few hours curled up in the cab of my truck. Simply to keep from adding anymore ghosts to Charlie's house of suffering.
And from then on, it was like slowly drowning, like little droplets of water torture in my soul.
Grieving the loss of an attachment which had suffered a fate worse than merely being stamped underfoot. I'd endured heartbreak before, I could endure it again if I had to.
This felt worse because, if that dark voice of my psyche was true, then what I felt would never have the chance to become anything.
Yet, still. Knowing how greatly it could wound me to go back to him and demand to know what his problem was – to try and weasel out for myself if he really thought I was disgusting for wanting him or I was just being self-loathing and paranoid – I had to know.
In that revelation, my pathetic sniffling came to a stop. With that plan, I rose from the fetal position and climbed out of the Beast. My hands tightened so hard into fists that the knuckles turned white.
He would answer me – or there would be a reckoning unlike any his pampered ass had borne!
The next morning the clouds were dense and opaque, although the lack of rain barely cheered me. If anything, it seemed to add some much needed fervor to my resolve. As though the universe itself was giving me that much needed push to confront Edward while I still had the fortitude to do so.
Sometime in the night I'd resolved myself to the fact that any and all attachment beyond friendship would only result in a wild goose chase of epic proportions. So, it wasn't like I had any hope of more. But, I also didn't want him to hate me forever. To only ever get that antagonistic look from now until I left Forks.
I knew – I knew – that I shouldn't care what he thought about me. I knew that if I let myself dwell on him, it would drag me down that chasm of endless longing. Drowning my vassalage heart through the halls of wretchedness as the remnants of my pride, my autonomy, perished on the savage rocks below. Destroyed, all too deftly, by an undertow too tumultuous to subdue.
In spite of all the rage in me, the searing need for vengeance burning under my skin, how he saw me mattered.
It was laughable. Pathetic. The very thing I'd criticized others for doing – especially my father.
I think that was what I hated most about this whole thing. How it made me feel like a giant hypocrite.
All the more reason to get this over with as quickly as possible.
Yesterday, I'd arrived too early without meaning to. Today, my beast pulled into the Forks High parking lot an hour early on purpose .
Guiding my bellowing truck to the farthest parking spot in the corner by the woods, I girded myself.
Not to music, although I'd been listening to my mp3 player all morning, but to the letter I had painstakingly written for over an hour last night.
A letter addressed to Edward.
I'd chosen to write him a letter because I could write a hell of a lot more eloquently than I could talk. If (or when) his velvet voice or blistering eyes stole my nerve, then how else was I supposed to confront him? The letter was a backup plan.
Plan A was speaking to him directly, for as long as I had the stones to do it. Plan B involved giving him the letter and staring at him demandingly until he read it.
With no rain to disrupt my view, I watched the procession of cars arriving for the whole hour before school started. Waiting in the toasty cab of my Beast for Edward and his family to arrive.
Finally, about ten minutes before First Period, I saw the familiar face of Alice step out of the driver's seat of a banged-up eggshell 2000 Mercedes-Benz and open an umbrella. Jasper, her step-brother/boyfriend, slid out from the passenger seat beside her.
Good, I reasoned to myself. That meant Edward and the others were here, too, right?
Waiting for more faces to get out of Alice's Mercedes-Benz, I leaned in as close as I could to the windshield without smearing my forehead into the glass.
No one else got out of her car.
Worried that I'd missed Edward and the others getting out of a different car, I scanned the parking lot in a rush. Just in time to see Emmett step out of a dark green Jeep that reminded me of the one Lorelai drove on Gilmore Girls.
Biting down on my lip in an unconscious habit, it wasn't until the tall, blond, Rosalie got out of the Jeep's passenger seat that my lip started to sting.
Edward didn't get out of the Jeep. He must have his own car, I decided.
Assuming that he would be getting out of any of the cars, at any moment, I slipped out of the beast, locked him, and hurriedly walked through the parking lot. Scanning through every window I could see through for that sharp-eyed jerk.
By the time I made it to the sidewalk that led to the main entrance, Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie had vanished into the building.
I waited, pretending not to see the familiar faces of Mike, Jessica, and Lauren as I continued to scan the parking lot. Stalling time through vague conversation with Mike, and Eric when he joined us, until it was too risky to wait anymore. Two minutes before English started, I finally gave up. Assuming I'd just missed him in the crowd somehow.
But, at lunch I didn't see him either. Even though I made a conscious effort to wander around campus like some kind of stalker to try and find him. He either hid very well or he didn't come to school!
Assuming the first, hoping for the first, I parked myself at our Biology lab desk as soon as Mr. Molina opened the door. Simmering as I held that stupid letter against my thigh beneath the table.
I stared at the door for what felt like hours . Even after Mr. Molina started the lesson, my eyes never left that tiny window in the door if it could possibly be helped.
After all, I'd already spent the whole day waiting for the hair to show. What was an hour more?
I just wanted to get this over with, but as my luck would have it - Edward never showed.
It took until about halfway through Biology to finally accept that Edward wasn't coming. That he'd actually followed through on dropping this class!
It was crazy - even egotistical - to think that a complete stranger would be so pissed off at me that he'd drop a whole class because of it!
Remembering how Edward had offered to organize the library until he got this class replaced, a rush of boldness filled me, and I raised my hand to excuse myself to the bathroom.
Unintentionally spending the first ten minutes of my escapade getting lost in the search for the library, eventually I found it.
Stepping inside, holding that folded letter in my hand so tightly that it crinkled into my palm, I strode passed every aisle. Twice. Pretending I didn't notice how the matronly librarian had widened her eyes bewilderingly at me.
After the second pass from one side of the small library to the other, I finally had to come to a stop and accept the hard, unpleasant, truth:
Edward had skipped school.
That coward! I raged to myself as the Librarian started to approach me. No doubt concerned at how hard I'd been suffocating the paper in my hand. I didn't want to think about how unpleasant my face probably looked.
"Can I help you find something?..."
Softening the anger on my face to a (hopefully) more tolerable level, I offered her a weak smile. "Yeah. I thought I dropped something in here. It's fine."
It was a bad lie, especially when she was probably aware of the fact that I hadn't been in the library today, but thankfully she didn't call me out on my bullshit.
Walking back to Biology in something of a huff from my irritation, a sudden chill down my spine made me pause near a corner. A strange, inexplicable feeling had wormed its way into my stomach and settled there.
A feeling that someone or something was watching me.
Yet, despite looking around, no one was. There were no windows in this part of the hallway and all the doors were, to my vantage point, closed.
Something felt off, but I didn't want to waste more time to investigate further.
In the end, I convinced myself that it was just leftover nerves from my anger at Edward's spinelessness. Shoving that sad excuse of a letter in my pocket, I headed back to class.
It was kind of nice having the whole lab table to myself, and if not for the fact that I'd already studied cellular anatomy last semester, I may have even enjoyed this class. Even with Mr. Molina's genuinely impressive charisma, my mind was under-stimulated. The mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell was only so interesting, after all.
Unable to bear the prospect of tying myself down to one held focus just to reiterate the 'phases of mitosis', I doodled in my notebook instead.
At first, I wasn't paying any attention to what I was drawing, or why, it was simply shapes that soothed my ragged soul. Whatever I could doodle that kept me from staring at Edward's empty chair…
The sketch I hemmed into the empty spaces of my worksheet had just begun to balm my wounded pride when I realized what I had been drawing.
Nay, not what – but who .
Struck by the sharp reminder of those coal-black, electrifying, eyes, I grimaced. Turning the worksheet face down so that those eyes on fire weren't burning into me.
What the hell was wrong with me?
Sighing to no one, a whispered catch in my throat, I vowed not to draw him anymore. Pretend I hadn't just tried to make up for his absence by drawing him on a questionnaire.
Why was I even investing this much energy into someone who - to my knowledge - not only hated me…but couldn't stand to even be in the same room for a stupid Biology class?
After everyone finished the assignment, I promised myself that I would make a more concerted effort to build better friendships here.
Mike was always happy to see me, like a golden retriever with his tail wagging. It didn't really matter if, in this analogy, I was the tennis ball. The sunshine on his face was nice. A wonderful contrast to that loathsome creature I'd obsessed about.
When class ended, I sought Mike out. Avoiding all questions as to why I'd acted so weird today, if at all possible. Hiding my obsessive behavior behind the phrase: Oh, I'm just still wigged out by how he acted. Like, who acts like that?
Had I subtly adopted Mike's mannerisms to feign being more normal? Maybe, but it seemed to be more than enough to convince him. Outside of a few jokes at Edward's expense, which we laughed about, Mike didn't bring it up again.
During P.E, Lauren and Jessica gravitated toward me with the same eagerness as they had yesterday. Probably because, seeing that I was in better spirits, they took it as encouragement to talk to me.
I supposed, in the end, it was better to awkwardly navigate between two chatty girls than to silently linger near Mike and his other friends. It wasn't like I was too grown up or snobbish to appreciate a fart joke every now and then, but sometimes I wondered if Mike's other friends were capable of humor that didn't involve backfired bodily functions or sexualizing other people.
Those first five minutes to quickly shower and dry off after Gym were…excruciatingly tedious. It was uncomfortable at best; abhorrent at worst.
The highlight being the unofficial towel whipping contest where, without a lick of warning, a painful smack burned into my ass. Followed by loud, caveman, sort of hooting because some guy I didn't know finally mastered towel flicking.
It was violating and abrasive - the lack of respect for personal body space that went on in there. Like what were the rules?
I guessed the surprised yelping was hilarious. But, at least Mike seemed to catch on that I was uncomfortable and asked them to chill out.
At least until Connor started (I assume it was affectionately) calling Mike a pansy. Which was when Mike grabbed a towel and they had a whipping war of sorts.
The noise of each loud fwhip of sound left a ringing in my head. A buzzing noise that seemed to take on a physical presence to wheedle its way down my body like watercolor paint. Only, instead of a beautiful portrait, I felt nauseated all over. Overstimulated from the prank of physical contact I did not want from a guy I barely knew.
While Mike and Connor were distracted and everyone was watching the battle rage on, I finished changing and high tailed it out of there.
For the first time, I truly felt relief in the fact that Edward wasn't here. He wouldn't see me green at the gills because of sensory issues. He wouldn't be able to add any grimaces or loathing looks on top of another difficult day.
Maybe it was for the best that he switched to home school. It would be one less thing for me to worry about. Assuming, naturally, that I could forget about him.
Those eyes were always in the back of my head. Haunting me, drawing me in, and disappearing just as quickly. I couldn't decide what felt worse: being hated or whiplashed by abandonment.
It didn't matter, I kept reminding myself. He left. He hates you, my conscience kept repeating over and over on the drive home.
And maybe it was true and there was no point in dwelling on Edward. But, there was a stronger part of me that felt this belief was askew.
The part of me that had been sure that there was something else in those intangible sharp, black, eyes.
That his withering stare was not rooted in hate, but rather, in want.
That he wanted me… and for whatever reason he hated me for it.
It was just a feeling.
An odd sensation of feminine intuition in my stomach – which could simply be the remnants of what foolish hope still clung to life within my rib cage.
It was egotistical to assume my gut feeling was right all the time, or right about this, considering I hadn't had a 'date' or a real 'boyfriend' to compare the situation to.
Even so, I would rather hold onto the ashes of what little I could hope for than to accept that there was nothing left and clean up the hot mess of my ruptured heart.
It would have been so easy to call my mom and talk to her about all this. She'd had countless break ups and years of these sorts of life experiences, and yet, like many little things – I didn't tell her.
Try as I may to convince myself that it was for a noble purpose: to not rain on her happiness with Phil, I knew the reason was more selfish than that.
I liked having privacy. I needed space for myself to breathe and she so rarely had the capacity to give it. If ever had the chance to see me through the lens of: 'my son is an injured baby bird' she became insufferably smothering.
A heart wound is no different than a physical one to such a person, and while I loved how much she valued me and took care of me, if I was ever to learn how to mend my wounds without her help…then calling her was not an option.
Not for this. Not for some guy who quit school to escape consequences.
But, if I was wrong and Edward showed up tomorrow…I still had the letter.