I told Charlie I had a lot of Homework to do, and that I'd filled up at La Push and didn't want dinner. There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, so he wasn't aware of anything off about my expression.
Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked up a CD that Phil had given me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, but they were a little heavy for my taste. I stuck it into place and lay down on my bed. I put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I closed my eyes, and then added a pillow over the top of my face.
I concentrated only on the music, trying to make out the lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patters. By the third time I'd listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I actually kind of liked the band after all, once I got past the initial noise. I'd have to thank Phil again.
And it worked. The eardrum-shattering beats made it impossible for me to think—which was the whole point. I listened to the CD again and again, until I was singing along with the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep.
I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Though part of my mind seemed to know I was dreaming, most of me was just present in the green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby, and I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there, tugging on my and, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest. "Jacob? What's wrong?" I asked. His face was frightened as he yanked with all his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to go into the dark.
"Run, Beau, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.
"This way, Beau!" I recognized Mike's voice calling out of the gloomy heart of the trees, but I couldn't see him.
"Please, Beau, please!" Jessica's voice echoed from somewhere near Mike's. "Why?" I asked, still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now to find the sun as more voices of my friends, and even Charlie and my mom began to echo from the shadows.
But suddenly, Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim forest floor. He twitched on the ground as I watched in horror. The voices grew louder.
"Jacob!" I screamed. But he was gone. In his place was a large red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his exposed fangs. "Beau, run!" several of the voices cried out from behind me. They kept saying it over and over, growing louder and louder till it was deafening. But I didn't turn. I was watching a light coming toward me from the beach.
Suddenly the voices all stopped.
Edward stepped out from the trees, his skin faintly glowing, his eyes black and dangerous. He helped up one hand and beckoned me to come with him. The wolf growled at my feet.
I took a hesitant step forward, toward Edward. He smiled then, and his teeth were sharp, pointed.
"Trust me," he purred.
I took another hesitant step.
The wolf launched himself across the space between me and the vampire, fangs aimed at the jugular.
"No!" I screamed wrenching upright out of my bed.
My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off the bedside table, and it clattered to the wooden floor.
My light was still on, and I was sitting fully dressed on the bed, with my shoes on. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was five-thirty in the morning. I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face, kicking off my boots. I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to say horizontal. I pulled off my shirt that still smelled of sea-salt and the driftwood fire and tossed it towards the closet. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes.
It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the images I'd been trying so desperately avoid. I was going to have to face them now.
I sat up, and my head spun for a minute. First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as possible. I headed toward the bathroom.
The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would. I wrapped a towel around my waist and crossed back to my room. I couldn't tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again, probably.
I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed—something I never usually did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on the old computer.
I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.
I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor and placing it carefully in the center of the table. I pulled out the headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the same CD on, turning it down to the level of background noise.
With another sigh, I turned to my computer, which was finally ready. I opened my favorite search engine and then typed in one word.
Vampire.
It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through—everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies.
Then I found a promising site—Vampires A-Z. I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally the screen was finished—simple white background with black text, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the homepage:
Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both.—Rev. Montague Summers
If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires?—Rousseau
The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood.
I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies I'd seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood.
Only three entries really caught my attention: The Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful pale-skinned human, The Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici.
About this last there was only one brief sentence.
Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires.
It was a relief, that one small entry, the one myth among hundreds that claimed the existence of good vampires.
Overall though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or my own observation. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind as I'd read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.
And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading—vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.
Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting for things to shut down properly. Through my frustrated, I felt overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so ridiculous. I was sitting in my room, researching vampires. What was wrong with me? I decided that most of the blame belonged to the town of Forks for making me go crazy like this.
I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't involve a three day-drive. I changed into a pair of jeans and pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and headed out the door.
It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across the yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays.
There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only had a vague idea of the names of the trees around me thanks to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser in the earlier days. There were many I didn't know, and I others I couldn't be sure about due to the thick blankets of green moss.
I followed the trail as long as my frustration at myself pushed me forward. As that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently fallen tree—I knew it was recent because it wasn't entirely carpeted in moss—rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp seat and my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back against the living tree.
This was the wrong place to come. I should have known, but where else was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last night's dream to allow for any peace of mind. No that there was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency so it must be raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the patch, three feet away, and not see me.
Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the absurdities that embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my clear-cut bedroom. I unwillingly forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer.
First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about the Cullens could be true.
Immediately my mind responded with a resounding negative. It was silly and morbid to entertain such ridiculous notions. But what, then? I asked myself. There was no rational explanation for how I was alive right now. I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman beauty, the pale, icy skin. And more—small things that registered slowly—how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way he sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences an phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first century classroom. He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip till he heard where we were going. He seemed to know what everyone around him was thinking… except me. He had told me he was the villain, dangerous….
Do you think I could be scary?
Could the Cullens be vampires?
Well, they were something. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of my eyes. Whether it be Jacob's cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edward Cullen was not…human. He was something more. So then—maybe. That would have to be my answer for now. And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do if it was true?
If Edward was a vampire—I could hardly make myself think the words—then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn't even believe myself; anyone I told would have me committed.
Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: to be smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To cancel our plans, to go back to ignoring him as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell him to leave me alone—and mean it this time. I felt a sudden twinge of sadness as I considered that option. An immediate sense of loss for something that, if I was being truthful, I didn't really even have. My mind rejected that, quickly skipping on to the next option.
I could do nothing different. After all, if he was something… sinister, he'd done nothing to hurt me so far. In fact, I would be a dent in Tyler's fender if he hadn't acted so quickly. So quickly, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could he be? I retorted. Then again, Edward had skipped class when there was blood typing. If he was a blood drinker like Jacob had said then maybe he saved me to keep my blood from spilling out in the parking lot, but then why did he talk to me? Sit with me at lunch? My head spun around in answerless circles.
My mind flitted back to my dream last night. The dark Edward in my dream last night was a reflection only of my fear of the word Jacob had spoken, and not Edward himself. Even so, when I'd screamed out in terror at the werewolf's lunge, it wasn't fear for Edward that brought the cry of "no" to my lips. It was the fear for the wolf. For Jacob. As Edward stood there, beckoning me forward with his fangs bared I feared for Jacob. I feared for the voices in the woods.
Do you think I could be scary?
I knew Edward was dangerous. On some level, I knew it. It was the thought I had put out of my head, the reality I didn't want to face but I couldn't ignore it. But I also couldn't ignore that despite the desperate pleas of the voices of those I loved, despite my fear for the sweet, warm boy from the beach, I still had wanted to go with Edward. And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn't know if there ever was a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew—if I knew—I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the electric force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now. Even if…but I couldn't think it. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. I shivered and rose quickly from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain.
But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was free. Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising me warmth and dry clothes.
It was noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, dry jeans and a comfy t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn't take too much to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than I'd felt since…well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest.
That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I simply followed through—usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives. This decision was ridiculously easy to live with. Dangerously easy. For the briefest moment, I considered that. Why was it so easy? Why couldn't I make the decision that I innately knew was probably better for me? The decision to choose to stay away from Edward and choose someone else. Someone like Mike, sweet, confused Mike. Or someone like Jake; warm and kind. I sighed, changing my mind seemed like a choice I no longer had. I put it all out of my mind and focused on other things.
And so the day was quiet, productive—I finished my paper before eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The chills that flashed up my spine whenever I thought of that trip were no different than the ones I'd felt before I'd taken my walk with Jacob. They should be different, I thought. I should be afraid. I knew I should be, but I couldn't feel the right kind of fear.
I slept dreamlessly that night exhausted from beginning my day so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window—surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years—and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly winter at all. My blood was electric in my veins.
Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately.
"Nice day out," he commented.
"Yeah," I agreed with a grin.
He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair—the same color, if not the same texture, as mine—had slowly grayed around his temples. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Renée when she was just two years older than I was now.
I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust motes stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.
By dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done—the product of my slow social life—but there were a few Trig problems I wasn't sure I had right. I took out my book industriously, but halfway through rechecking the first problem I was daydreaming, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched inattentively along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser.
"Beau!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike. I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts thought the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving. "Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, cheerfully.
He came to sit by me, his perfectly flat-ironed hair shining golden in the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, I couldn't help but feel gratified.
"I never noticed before—your hair has red in it," He commented, catching one of the short strands between two fingers.
"Only in the sun."
I became just a little uncomfortable when he ran his hands through my hair to smooth it back into place.
"Great day isn't it?"
"My kind of day," I agreed.
"What did you do yesterday?" His tone was just a bit too proprietary.
"I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it—no need to sound smug.
He hit his forehead on the heel of his hand. "Oh yeah—that's due Thursday, right?"
"Um, Wednesday, I think."
"Wednesday?" He frowned. "That's not good… What are you writing yours on?" "Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is misogynistic." He stared at me like I'd just spoken pig Latin.
"I guess I'll just have to work on that tonight," he said, deflated. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."
"Oh." I was taken off guard. Why couldn't I ever have a pleasant conversation with Mike anymore without it getting awkward?
"Well, we could go get some dinner or something…and I could work on it later." He smiled at me hopefully.
"Mike…" I hated being put on the spot, and I felt a conversation approaching that I had been carefully avoiding for a long time. "I don't… Maybe that's not the best idea." His face fell. "Why?" he asked, his eyes guarded. My thoughts flickered to Edward, wondering if that's where his thoughts were as well.
"I think…Well, here's the thing…" I felt like he didn't understand me, I didn't quite understand myself. I sighed. "Mike, do you like Jessica?"
He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. "Jessica?" "Yes, Jessica." I repeated, "Do you like her?"
"Well…" He thought about it long and hard, "Yeah. I guess I do." He said it almost guiltily but I sensed he genuinely meant it.
"Mike," I said softly before he worked himself up too much, "Jessica really likes you." I said slowly and emphatically, "And she's one of my best friends and I don't want to hurt her feelings."
His face started to turn red, "But—"
"And I think, Mike," I interrupted him, "that when you're asking to hang out with me it's in a more-than-friends way."
He was bright red now, but he remained silent.
"So," I continued, "I think it'd be best if we didn't get dinner. Ok?"
"Oh," he exhaled—clearly blindsided by the conversation. I decided it was a good time for me to leave.
"It's time for class, and I can't be late again." I gathered my books up and stuffed them in my bag. He didn't move
"Hey…" I gently patted his shoulder, "You coming?"
He looked up at me; his face wasn't as red now. He slowly stood and we walked in silence to building three. His expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him in the right direction. I also hoped I hadn't hurt his feelings or discouraged him from being honest with himself. Maybe in California he would have had a better chance and been more encouraged to explore his feelings, but in a small town like Forks I worried he'd never really come to terms with it all.
Before we parted, he stopped and turned to me.
"Thanks, Beau." He was sort of smiling, so that was encouraging at least.
When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles that night to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some friends, but I wasn't that well-versed in fashion—contrary to Jessica's apparent belief. It was sweet, though, that she wanted me to come. My head was still hazy, but the sunlight had put me in a pleasant mood, so I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to check with Charlie first.
She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish continuing as if without interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens—to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt a tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me—would Edward be waiting to sit with me again?
As was my routine, I glanced fist toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled—Spanish had made us late—but there was no sign of Edward of any of his family. I felt despondent.
I shuffled along behind Jessica, not able to listen anymore.
We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I noticed Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica, and that her face lit up in response. He shot a look toward me and smiled. Looks like things worked out with Mike after all; I felt relieved.
Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while still grappling with the encroaching sadness. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, trying to distract myself.
I'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when I entered Biology, but when I saw his empty seat I felt a new wave of disappointment. I knew I shouldn't let his absence bother me so much, and a new wave of emotion hit me as I wrestled with that new thought.
The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.
I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to mope a little bit before I went out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in the door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I was genuinely happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner—I was relieved that he finally seemed to be catching on—but I was somewhat disappointed that I wouldn't have the company to distract me. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.
Which left me with little else in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread left over from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half our on homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, reading the backlog of letters from my mother, getting more and more panicked as they progressed to the present. I sighed and typed up a response.
Mom, I'm sorry. I've been out a lot the past few days. I went to the beach with some friends, and I had to write a paper.
I sighed, and struggled with something else to say. It wasn't fair to punish my mom with a short, rude email just because I was upset.
It's sunny outside today—I know, I'm shocked too—so I'm going to go outside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can. Maybe today's the day I finally get a tan. I miss you a lot, tell Phil I said hi.
I love you,
Beau
I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection of books that went with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down.
Outside in the small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. My favorites were Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility. I'd read the first most recently, so I started Sense and Sensibility, only to remember after I began chapter three that the hero of the story happened to be named Edward. Frustrated, I turned to Mansfield Park, but the hero of that piece was named Edmund, and that was just too close. Weren't there any other names available in the late eighteenth century? I closed the book and rolled over onto my back with a sigh. I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go, and closed my eyes. I thought of nothing but the warmth on my skin and the light, pleasant breeze. I focused on the heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my light shirt….
The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.
"Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.I jumped up, feeling edgy, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in.
"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet—I fell asleep outside." I stifled a yawn.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway."
I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, so I tried my hardest to pay attention to the baseball game. I asked a few questions here and there, trying to understand better, and Charlie would respond quickly. I thought maybe I was annoying him, but he seemed happy to be doing something together. Despite my lack of interest in the game, I was happy too. "Dad," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose…do you mind if I go with them?"
"Jessica Stanley?" He asked, confused.
"And Angela Weber."
He was definitely confused, "Are you going to the dance with one of them? I thought you said you weren't going."
"I'm not going, Dad. I'm just helping them find dresses—you know, giving my opinion and stuff."
"Well, okay." He chuckled, "I don't know how you do it. Your mom used to drive me crazy when she'd make me go shopping with her."
"I manage okay." I smiled.
"It's a school night, though." He added. "We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?"
"Beau, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded me. "I don't know how you survived." I said, sarcastically.
He grinned, keeping his eyes on the TV.
I laughed, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, ok? Right on top."
It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I stubbornly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a dark blue, deep V-neck shirt—something I could wear in the dead of winter in Pheonix.
I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. With a tinge of disappointment, I circled the full lot looking for a space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there. I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell.
It was the same as yesterday—I just couldn't keep the little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.
The Port Angeles plan was back on again for tonight. Lauren couldn't make it but told us to have fun and let her know if we saw anything she'd like. I was anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see him appearing out of the blue the way he always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight, and thankfully Angela and Jessica's excitement was infectious. Maybe I could do some clothes shopping as well. I didn't want to think that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, no longer interested in the earlier arrangement. Surely he wouldn't cancel on me without at least telling me.
After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my books and truck. I quickly brushed my teeth and fixed my hair when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I changed into a nicer, better fitting pair of jeans, grabbed my wallet, and left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner. I ran out to join Jessica and she wolf-whistled at me.
"Yeow, looking good, Swan." She winked.
I laughed, "Control yourself, Stanley."
"You ready?" She snickered.
"Let's get out of here."
We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. Jessica whooped and hollered about girls' night out as Angela and I laughed. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.