I was in an unusually cheerful mood as we headed to the cafeteria from Spanish class. Freedom after months of lockdown sure tasted good.
I wasn't the only one walking on air. The entire school seemed alive with anticipation of the coming end of the school year, especially the seniors. Graduation was now in striking distance, and in case anyone had forgotten, there were colorful fliers blanketing every wall, reminding people not to forget to buy their yearbooks, class rings, and announcements, and included deadlines to order graduation gowns, hats, and tassels. There were also advertisements for the prom this coming weekend, but as Edythe had already made me go once, she was satisfied, and assured me we could skip it this year.
For me, the fast approach of the end of the school year was the one damper on my mood. In fact I felt nervous to the point of nausea whenever I thought about it, so I did my best to keep it from my mind.
Except when people insisted on talking about it. Which was about all the time.
When we arrived at our usual table, Archie, Becca, and Allen were already there. However, Becca took no notice—she seemed to be having some kind of breakdown.
"And I haven't even gotten to the announcements yet," she moaned, wringing her hands and pulling at her hair. "My mom is making me hand-write the addresses. I had no idea we knew that many people. And I still have to do everything else besides. She keeps saying it's good experience for the future—but that won't help me much if I don't make it to the future."
"Don't worry, I'll help you," Allen said, ever the good sport. "I can help you write addresses for the invitations or something."
Becca spun toward him, eyes shining with a sudden flare of hope. However, it turned to worry. "But don't you have your own invitations to send?"
Allen shrugged. "Yeah, I have about ten thousand cousins. But my mom is doing them. She wants me to focus on my studies the last week. But I've been keeping up with the coursework all year, so I should have some extra time."
Becca squealed with joy and threw her arms around him. "You're the best, Allen!"
Becca noticed Edythe and I then, where we'd sat down next to Archie. She was looking slightly more cheerful. "What about you two?" she asked. "Have you done your invitations yet?"
Edythe dimpled. "All done."
I shrugged. "I'm not really doing any. My mom knows when I'm graduating, and I can't think of anyone else. I could come help you out, too, if you want. My handwriting's not that good, though."
Allen glanced at me, surprised. "Aren't you grounded?"
I grinned. "Just got out yesterday. I'm looking for any opportunity to get out of the house."
"Great," said Becca, really smiling now. "I can use all the help I can get."
"We'll have to celebrate," Archie inserted. "You, being free. The whole wide world is open to us. Don't worry, I'll come up with something awesome."
I grimaced. The way Archie defined awesome and the way I defined awesome were usually polar opposites. Awesome for Archie usually involved something extravagant and pricey, or else a lot of people staring at us. I had nightmares about stuff Archie considered awesome.
"You'll come, won't you?" Archie said, grinning as he turned to Allen.
Allen shrugged, smiling a bit. "Sure. Course."
"Maybe tonight," said Archie, already warming to the idea. "Let's see...what would be good..." His eyes scanned the cafeteria, as though looking for ideas.
"Hey," I said, determined to cut in before this could get out of control. "I was just let out yesterday. I don't need to be pushing my luck just yet. At least let's wait until the weekend."
"All right, all right," Archie said, unruffled. "The weekend. It's a promise."
Archie drew Allen into discussing possible options, something in Port Angeles, or even Hoquiam, and even Becca added her two cents in, after Archie made it clear she could come too if she wanted. However, I found myself drifting, and before long I shifted restlessly.
It would be nice to celebrate my new freedom somehow, maybe do something a little out of the ordinary, even a bit irresponsible, like a normal teenager would do. But I realized, even as I thought it, I couldn't deny to myself that there was someone else I'd like to do it with.
Every time Julie Black crossed my mind, I would think of that last expression I'd seen on her face, in the forest just outside my home. Her face drawn, her eyes tense with pain. I wanted more than anything to change that last memory, to replace it with a few more fun memories, like we'd had when we were palling around La Push and sneaking around to ride motorcycles behind my dad's back.
The problem with my newfound freedom was that it was incomplete. I could go anywhere I wanted—except for the places I most badly needed to go.
"Archie? What is it? Something wrong?"
The urgent tone in Allen's voice brought me back to the present, and I saw he was looking at Archie with something like concern. Archie had been talking animatedly a moment before, but now he had zoned out, his face blank and eyes staring straight ahead.
I felt my stomach contract—I knew that look. Archie was seeing something only he could see, events that had yet to occur. Events serious enough that they had suddenly seized all his attention.
I stared at him, feeling cold.
Edythe suddenly laughed, a very natural, relaxed sound, drawing Allen and Becca's attention. Archie jumped as though someone had kicked him under the table.
"I saw that look," Edythe said with a grin. "Not an idea for another project? I think you might really want to go slow with Charlie, or you'll get Beau back under lock and key faster than you can say 'regrounded.'"
Archie grinned, and was completely back to normal. "Oh yeah, I just got a great idea. Ridiculously good. But—I'll leave it until after graduation." He winked at me.
Archie talked nonstop after that. I tried to catch Edythe's eye, but she didn't give any indication that anything was wrong, and she only traced the knuckles of my hand absently.
I hoped to get Edythe alone so I could ask her what was going on, but to my dismay, there wasn't an opportunity. I was suspicious, as it seemed almost deliberate—after lunch, Edythe slowed to talk to Becca about some assignment for another class, and every time between classes, there always seemed to somehow be someone else there. When the final bell rang, and Edythe casually struck up a conversation with McKayla Newton of all people, I was fairly sure something was amiss.
"...and I'm not sure what's wrong with it," McKayla was saying, as she replied to Edythe's flurry of polite queries. "My dad thought it must be the battery, so he replaced it just the other day, but this morning it did the same thing." Apparently McKayla was having some trouble with her Suburban.
"Hmm," Edythe said thoughtfully. "It could be the cables. You know, I learned a thing or two about cars from my brother Royal. If you like, I could drive down to your place and take a look at it. I'll call him, and I bet he could walk me through the fix, if it's something simple." Royal was supposed to be away at college with Eleanor at the moment.
McKayla looked positively terrified at the thought, and I couldn't blame her. She looked to me as though for some explanation for Edythe's sudden bout of friendliness, but I could only shrug in response.
"...Thanks," McKayla said hesitantly. "But I need to be getting to work. I'll probably just get it looked at down at Dowling's."
Dowling's was notorious for charging an arm and leg for repairs. There was an alternative I could have suggested, who probably knew more on the subject of cars than the people at Dowling's ever did—but all her time was taken up these days running around as a giant wolf.
McKayla was still looking weirded out as she turned and headed toward her car.
"Mind letting me in on the joke?" I asked as we got into Edythe's car—Archie was already there, waiting for us. "What was that about?"
"Just trying to help," she said lightly.
Once we were in the car, I didn't get another chance to speak, as Archie was talking a mile a minute.
"I don't really think you'd need Roy's help for a simple model like that one, Edy. Now, if it was an Italian sports car or something, you'd be out of your depth on the fine tuning. And speaking of sports cars—I think you still owe me a Porsche. Christmas is a long way away, you know. You haven't gotten me a graduation present yet, right?"
Archie kept going and there didn't seem to be an end in sight, so eventually I tuned him out and settled in to wait. Edythe might be avoiding my questions for now, but she could only keep from being alone with me for so long.
Edythe seemed perfectly at ease as she dropped Archie off in the usual place at the mouth of the Cullen's drive. "See you later," she called. However, I didn't miss the significant look Archie shot her way, and Edythe's answering nod—just the barest tilt of the head—before Archie turned and disappeared into the trees.
Edythe was quiet as she turned the car around and headed back to Forks. I waited to see if she would bring it up. She didn't.
I felt sweat break out on my palms. Something must be really wrong—or she would tell me, wouldn't she?
I'd been intending to grill her the moment I had the opportunity, but now I wasn't sure if it wouldn't be a good idea to mentally prepare myself first. I concentrated on going through worst-case scenarios—which did nothing toward calming me down.
Before I knew it we were back to my house, Edythe pulling up to the curb.
"Not much homework tonight," she commented. "Do you suppose Charlie would be terribly upset to find you had let me in the house without his authorization?"
I shrugged. "He can deal with it." I figured I could always go the extra mile with dinner to keep him happy.
Inside, I headed upstairs to my room and Edythe went to lounge on my bed, seeming oblivious to how edgy I was.
I turned on my computer first thing—I had an email from my mom I needed to answer. She tended to freak out whenever I took too long.
I folded my arms across my chest and glared at the screen as the decrepit machine groaned slowly to life, willing it to go faster. My fingers tapped restlessly against my arm, and I grumbled under my breath.
"Beau."
I turned at the sound of Edythe's lilting voice and saw she was sitting on the edge of my bed. Her golden eyes were glittering. "Come here a minute."
I wondered if she was going to tell me about Archie and this afternoon, and I hesitantly approached, going to sit beside her.
She leaned in so close I felt her chilly breath on my mouth, and for a moment everything that had been in my head a second before flitted out of it.
"Is it just me, or does someone seem a bit impatient today?" she murmured.
"Um." That was about as coherent as I could get.
She laughed softly. And before I could try to stutter out anything else, she pressed her lips to mine.
Edythe always had to be kind of careful around me. She had strength enough to crush an armored car with her bare hands, and the least distraction could mean the end of me. Consequently, that meant we didn't do a whole lot of making out—not nearly as much as I'd have liked, anyway.
So I was surprised when I felt Edythe wind her arms around my neck, pressing herself against my chest. Her skin was icy against mine, and I felt her fingers in her my hair.
An involuntarily shiver went down my spine at the chill, and I felt Edythe hesitate. I knew she was going to pull away in about two seconds, saying something about maybe we'd risked my life enough for one day, and so I latched myself to her as securely as I could, wrapping my arms around her waist, trying to keep her to me.
However, Edythe put her hands on my shoulders, and drew back gently without the slightest effort. Her eyes were bright with excitement, though she kept it rigidly contained, and she sighed.
"Beau," she said, with a touch of disapproval.
"I could say I was sorry," I offered.
"But then you would be lying," she noted. "I can't read your mind, but I know enough to tell you have zero remorse."
"Well, yeah," I admitted.
Edythe regarded me for a moment, then leaned in close, eyes half-lidded, her chilly breath on my face. I blinked, and for a second I couldn't remember my own name.
She paused, then turned slightly to breathe in my ear. "I think the computer's finished loading."
I blinked, then turned to find that she was right. Sighing, I reluctantly got up and headed back to the desk.
"Send your mother my greetings," Edythe called after me, relaxing back on my bed.
"Sure."
I scanned through my mom's email again, sighing now and again at some of her latest crazy stunts. My mom had always been a person of whim—as soon as a thought entered her head, she had a tendency to just act on it, without thinking things through. Consequently, I wasn't entirely surprised to hear a story where she'd made up her mind to go skydiving, only to get up there strapped to a parachute and a dive instructor only to suddenly remember she was paralyzed by heights.
To be honest, I was a bit ticked at Phil over that one. He had been married to my mom for almost two years now, he ought to have put a stop to it. I knew if that had been me out there, I would have talked her out of it long before it could get to that point. My mom needed someone to take care of her.
I shook my head. Old habits died hard, but I knew I had to let go sometime. Maybe Phil didn't do things the same way I would, but he was a good guy, and my mom would be fine. I had to let them go their own way, and I had to go mine.
My mom and I had always been on opposite ends of the personality spectrum. She flitted from one thing to the next like some ADD butterfly, getting ridiculously excited about something and throwing herself completely into it, only to drop it for something else a month or two later. I, on the other hand, didn't like to let impulse rule the day. I liked to think things through. And so, even as a kid I'd tried to keep my head on my shoulders enough for the both of us. My mom had always trusted me and my judgment.
I could feel Edythe's eyes still watching me from my bed, and my blood was still hot and pounding in my head from the kiss. I wondered what my mom would think about my upcoming marriage—she trusted me, thought of me as responsible. Yet here I was, getting married right out of high school, just like she had done. My mom didn't often reflect back on the rash things she had done throughout her life, but her early marriage was the one thing she had always talked about very seriously. She didn't at all regret it—as she often said, if she hadn't gotten married, she wouldn't have had me, and she wouldn't trade that for anything in the world. But she had always pounded into me that there was a difference between changing your mind about taking a Yoga class and breaking a lifelong commitment to another person. You simply shouldn't do it until you were ready.
My mom had never worried for a minute I'd rush into anything like she had, but now—now.
I grimaced. I would have to tell her sometime. But that was definitely a conversation I was not looking forward to.
I continued scanning the email, and began putting down answers to some of her questions, adding a few things about school and work. However, as my eyes came to the final line, I suddenly remembered why it was I had put off answering it before now.
You haven't mentioned your friend Julie Black in a while. What's she up to these days?
I looked over what I had so far carefully, then went back and inserted my response between a couple of other more causal answers to draw less attention to it.
Jules is doing okay, I think. I'm not sure, I haven't seen much of her lately. She's been spending most of her time with some other friends.
I studied what I had written. Knowing my mom, she would suspect there to be a more involved story there than I was letting on—for all my mom's spacey ways, she could be surprisingly perceptive. However, I didn't see a way to make it any more nonchalant, so I left it alone and, after adding Edythe's greeting to the end, I sent it off.
I didn't realize Edythe had come to stand silently behind me until after I'd turned off the computer and turned in my chair.
"You're a good son," she said. "There aren't many teenage boys who would keep up contact so faithfully with his mother."
I grumbled something inaudible, embarrassed to think she'd been reading over my shoulder.
"You and your mother are close, aren't you?" she asked.
I shrugged. "I guess you could say that."
"I think that's nice." Edythe's eyes flickered to one side. She turned away for a moment to go to my closet. She bent to reach inside, and when she turned back, she was holding a flat black box with a collection of wires dangling from it like the legs of some horrible, mutilated spider. It took me a second to recognize the stereo I had gotten for my birthday from Eleanor, Royal, and Jessamine.
Edythe turned it over in her hands, examining it.
"It's dead," she noted, brow creased in a frown of dismay.
I winced. "Um, yeah."
"I'll have to replace it," she said with a sigh. "It would hurt the others' feelings if they saw this."
I remembered Jules's evaluation when she had seen the inside of my truck, and I admitted, "There's kind of a lot of damage in the truck, too."
Edythe looked away. "You really didn't get a lot of good out of your birthday presents, did you?" she said softly.
I didn't know what to say, and my eyes dropped to the ground. I wondered why Edythe was bringing this up now, of all times. I doubted this was the first time, after spending weeks in my room, she was noticing the destroyed stereo. I didn't like to think about my eighteenth birthday if I could avoid it—there were just too many painful associations. But normally Edythe was even more sensitive about it than I was.
"At least you could still put these to use," Edythe said, and very suddenly there was a slip of stiff paper in her hand. She held it up and glanced down at the front. "They're about to expire, though."
I recognized one of the other presents I had received. The voucher for airplane tickets to see my mom in Florida, from Carine and Earnest. They had given me two, one for me and one for Edythe.
"Oh yeah, I forgot about those." I had to work to keep my voice from going flat as the old memories tried to crowd in.
Edythe studied the voucher a moment longer, then suddenly beamed. "You know what, Beau? I have an idea. You've been wondering how to celebrate your new freedom. Why not this way?"
I blinked, startled. "You mean—go to Florida? This weekend?"
"Yes," she said brightly. "What do you think?"
I frowned. "I thought I said I didn't want to do anything that would push my luck with Charlie."
"Charlie can't stop you from going to see your mother," Edythe pointed out. "She still has primary custody. In fact, you're an adult now—technically speaking, you don't need permission from anyone."
"Yeah," I muttered, "but I'm still going to be living here for awhile. And part of the deal getting off being grounded is he trusts me to be smart and judicious and everything about it. Finding out I'm flying clear across the country with my girlfriend...Trust me, we'll end up in a fight. And then I'll be grounded again."
I leaned over, studying the expiration on the voucher. "Let's give it a few weeks. Then I'll ask him."
I did want to see my mom—the idea of seeing her again not in a hospital or with me sitting in my room catatonic was suddenly appealing. But, I knew it was better not to let myself be impatient. There would be time enough to see her later.
"I think this weekend would ideal," Edythe insisted. "Things like this, it's best not to put them off. What if you wait, and you don't end up getting to it before graduation? It's coming up faster than you think. And I know you've been wanting to see her."
I hesitated, considering for a moment. Then shook my head. "We'll go, but not this weekend. It's just too soon."
"I've been hoping to meet your mother again soon, too," Edythe continued. Her eyes dropped to the mangled stereo, still in her other hand. Her delicate fingers curled, tightening around the torn wires. When she spoke, her voice was low.
"After last winter, I'm afraid she might have almost as bad an impression of me as Charlie. I've been a little anxious to try to rectify it, if I can. Since you've been grounded, I didn't want to bring it up, but now..." She trailed off, still staring down at the stereo.
I shook my head. "Don't worry about my mom. She's not like Charlie, I'm sure she doesn't blame you for anything. And even if she did, it doesn't matter what she thinks of you. It doesn't change anything."
"I would prefer the people you care about not absolutely despise me, if at all possible," she answered quietly.
"You'll see her again soon," I said firmly. "Just—make an effort and be patient. Okay?"
She smiled a bit at that, but shook her head. "That's easy for you to say," she muttered.
I opened my mouth to repeat myself, but then I hesitated. I looked at Edythe carefully, studying her face. Was I imagining it, or was Edythe acting a little odd? Although Edythe had always claimed patience did not come naturally to her, from my perspective, she usually seemed like about the most patient person I'd ever known. It wasn't like her to keep pushing something like this after I'd already said what I thought.
"Let's just take the outside world slowly, okay?" I said at last. "Maybe we can go see a movie in—" I smiled a bit. "Seattle?"
Edythe's brow creased in a distinct frown. She made a sound of disgust at the back of her throat and folded her arms, glaring at me as if I were being deliberately obstinate.
"Because Charlie would be so approving of that." She muttered furiously to herself, "Of course you'd choose to go to a town with a murderous vampire picking people off the streets over seeing your mother."
I grinned a little. "Just kidding. I'm thinking more like Port Angeles."
Edythe's glowering expression didn't change, and I sighed.
"We'll go," I promised. "It's just the timing. We've still got some time before the tickets expire. We'll talk about it again soon. Maybe Archie can check ahead to see when a good time to talk to Charlie would be."
I was hoping for a change of subject—I was tired of arguing with Edythe. And as I mentioned Archie, I suddenly remembered my worries from earlier. I couldn't believe I'd nearly forgotten.
"But, hey," I said. "That reminds me—earlier today. I was going to ask. What did Archie see at lunch?"
As I spoke, I kept my eyes fastened to Edythe's face, carefully scrutinizing every detail for some reaction.
However, there was nothing secretive or wary in her frown. "Oh, that. He's been seeing Jessamine in a strange place. It's somewhere in the southwest, near her former...family. She doesn't have any conscious intentions to go back there, though. Archie's been worried about it."
"Oh," I said, eyes flickering to the ground. I was embarrassed I'd been suspecting the two of them of intentionally hiding things from me. The distracted, serious look on Archie's face made sense now, and even his almost stressed, non-stop chatter. Jessamine was his soul mate, his other half, and he was always looking out for her.
"I didn't realize you'd noticed that," Edythe said. "Or I would have told you. You haven't been worrying all this time, have you?"
"No," I muttered, looking away, feeling the heat crawling up my neck. "No, I was just wondering."
We went downstairs to work on our homework, just in case Charlie came home early. Edythe had hers finished literally in minutes, leaving me to slog through my calculus. After that, I went to start on dinner. I decided to go for stroganoff tonight, from an old family recipe. I thought it might keep Charlie from getting too sullen when he came home and discovered Edythe here.
However, Charlie seemed to already be in a good mood when he got back, and his tone almost bordered on actually good-natured when he greeted Edythe on the way in.
He shoveled down three helpings of the stroganoff before he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands across his stomach and looking satisfied.
"That was great, kid. You really should think about going into culinary in college."
I ignored the college part, and said, "Thanks, Dad. So—how was work?" Charlie had been so focused on the food, there hadn't really been a chance for conversation.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Slow day today. Played cards a good part of the afternoon with the other deputy." He grinned a bit. "Won nineteen hands to seven." He paused, then added, "Oh, and then I was on the phone with Bonnie."
I went still for a second, but I kept my face composed. "How's she doing?" I asked casually.
"Just fine. Her joints are acting up again, I think."
"Sorry to hear that."
Charlie continued with some animation, "She's invited us down to visit this weekend. The Clearwaters and the Uleys will probably be there, too. Sort of a playoff party."
"Huh," I grunted, eyes on the wood grain of the table. There wasn't much else to say. I knew Edythe would go through whatever contortions she had to to keep me from getting within ten miles of an event involving werewolves, so there wasn't much point acting excited.
Without looking him in the eye, I got up from the table and started clearing away the plates. I dumped them in the sink, and got the water going. Edythe was at my side a second later, dishtowel in hand.
Charlie sighed, apparently giving up for the moment, though I knew that this wasn't going to be the end of the subject by a long shot. He heaved himself to his feet with a grunt and started for the living room, to watch whatever game was on.
"Oh, Charlie?" Edythe said, her tone polite and conversational.
Charlie paused in the middle of the kitchen, and half turned back. "Yeah?" he muttered, not fully looking at her.
"Did Beau ever mention that my parents gave him airplane tickets on his birthday? So he could visit Renée in Florida."
I banged my elbow against the side of the sink, and one of the plates I'd been washing slipped from my hand, glancing off the edge of the counter and clattering to the floor, splattering the three of us in soapy water.
Charlie didn't even seem to notice. "Really?" he said, turning to give me a startled look. "Is that true?"
I tried to keep my eyes on the plate as I bent down to get it. "Yeah," I said, trying to keep my voice casual, even as I felt my throat close with sudden nerves. "Yeah, they did."
"They're about to expire," Edythe continued. "I think it might hurt their feelings if they weren't used, not that they would say anything."
I gaped at Edythe, incredulous at this sudden bout of audacity.
Charlie relaxed. "I guess that would be a good idea. You haven't had a chance to see her in a while, have you?"
I stared into the sink.
"I'm surprised you didn't mention it before," he said. His eyes went to Edythe, and he added, suddenly suspicious, "When you say, 'they're about to expire'...exactly how many tickets are we talking about here?"
"Just two," Edythe said calmly. "One for Beau...and one for me."
Again another plate slipped from my grasp, this time falling into the sink. The dead silence that followed this admission had the blood rushing to my face, and I tensed for whatever was about to follow.
"I see," Charlie said flatly, and I could feel his glare against my shoulder blades. I stared fixedly down at the dirty water in the sink as silence filled the kitchen.
"Beau," Charlie said at last into the tense silence, his voice low and dangerous. "Could you come in the living room a minute?"
I could feel heat crawling up my neck, and I was suddenly irritated at his tone. I glared down at the water. "Whatever you have to say, Dad, you can say in front of Edythe," I said evenly.
Another tense silence followed.
"You're not going," he said abruptly. "That's my final word." I heard the clump of his feet as he turned back in the direction of the living room.
Something about Charlie's authoritative, that's-the-end-of-this-discussion tone always seemed to raise my hackles.
I threw down the washrag and spun to face him. "Why not?" I demanded. "You said I'm not grounded anymore, so what's the problem?"
Charlie turned back around, his arms folded, legs spread apart and shoulders squared, looking like a raging bull ready to charge.
"I don't see what the problem is," I repeated, and I knew my tone was anything but diplomatic. "I can go see Mom if I want to. And the tickets are going to expire."
Charlie glared at me. "You alone I don't mind—but you should know why this is unacceptable. I thought you were more responsible than this, Beau."
"I don't see what the difference is," I insisted, feeling my ears turning hot. "Earnest and Carine gave me tickets so I could see my mom and she could get to know Edythe better. It's not like we're flying off to stay at a hotel in Vegas. Mom is going to be there the whole time."
I turned back to the sink and yanked out the plug. "There's no reason to get bent out of shape about it," I said stiffly as the filthy water was sucked down into the drain.
Charlie was eying me with deep suspicion. His face was red, like he might be about to explode—but then he grunted to himself and turned away, and I could tell the argument was over.
"I finished my homework, so I'm going out," I called after him. "I'll be back before ten-thirty."
Charlie half turned back, glare suddenly back in place. "Where?" he demanded.
I shrugged. "Don't know. I'll stay within ten miles."
Charlie's expression was far from approving and, grunting again, he turned back toward the living room.
"We're going out?" Edythe asked, her angelic voice low but excited.
I turned to give her a withering look. "That's right," I muttered. "I think you and I need to have a talk."
Edythe didn't look in the least apprehensive, and she had a little triumphant smile on her lips as she led the way out to her car. When we were both inside, I sat in mute silence, glaring out the windshield.
Edythe began the conversation. "I suppose you think that was a bit meddling on my part," she said. Far from being properly penitent or abashed, she sounded pleased with herself.
"I can't believe you did that," I said irritably. "Especially after I specifically said I wanted to wait."
"I know you've been wanting to see your mother, Beau," Edythe said softly. "Maybe more than you realize. You've been mentioning her in your sleep."
I flushed and looked away. It annoyed me to no end, my tendency to gab in my sleep.
"Now, it really wasn't as bad as you expected with Charlie, was it?" she continued. "You were going to have to talk to him sometime, I thought it might as well be sooner as opposed to later."
I eyed her suspiciously. "Be honest. This sudden fixation with getting me to Florida doesn't have anything to do with the thing at Bonnie's, does it?"
Edythe's eyes turned a touch cooler. "Nothing whatsoever. Whether you were here or on the other side of the world, you wouldn't be going."
I stared hard out the windshield, and I felt the heat crawling up my neck, just as it had a moment ago with Charlie. It was funny, how similar Edythe's tone was to Charlie's right now. That touch of overbearing parental authority.
Edythe sighed, and when she spoke again, her voice was light and gentle. "So what do you want to do?"
I shrugged, still a bit hot under the collar. However, as I glanced at Edythe's earnest expression, I couldn't keep it up, and I sighed. "I haven't seen your house in a while."
Edythe smiled as she put her car into gear. "My house it is."
We made it back by ten-twenty. I didn't want to push my luck with Charlie any more than I already had, and I had a feeling he was really going to read me the riot act as soon as I got in. Sure enough, as Edythe pulled up to the front of the house, I saw the lights in the living room were still on.
"See you upstairs later," I said glumly. "If there's anything left of me."
"Don't worry, his thoughts are relatively calm," Edythe said, smiling. Her eyes glittered with some hidden amusement, and I wondered if there was some joke I was missing.
The television was turned up pretty loud when I got inside, and I briefly considered trying to sneak past him.
"Could you come in here a second, Beau?" Charlie called, voice gruff.
I mentally sighed and turned toward the living room. I stood uneasily in the entrance, one hand resting on the frame.
"Yeah, Dad?" I said. I hoped my light, non-confrontational tone would suck some of the fire from the coming earful I knew I was probably about to get.
"Have a nice time tonight?" Charlie asked, voice surprisingly almost as conciliatory as mine. However, there was something else in his gruff tone—almost like embarrassment.
"Yeah," I said cautiously. "We hung out with Archie and Jessamine at the Cullens. Edythe and Archie played chess, and I tried playing against Jessamine, but she beat me in six moves."
I almost had to laugh as I remembered Edythe and Archie playing. From my point of view, it looked like they did nothing but sit there, staring at the board, as Archie foresaw Edythe's moves and she read what he was going to do in his mind. After about three minutes of concentrated silence, Archie had finally knocked over his king and surrendered.
Charlie nodded distractedly, then reached over and hit the mute button on the television. I hadn't seen him do that very often, and I didn't think it could bode well.
"Come sit down here a minute, would you?" he asked.
I entered the room, going slowly and gingerly as if I'd just stepped onto a mine field. When I reached the armchair, I slowly lowered myself into it, sitting on the very edge.
"There's something we need to talk about," he said abruptly.
"Yeah?" I surveyed him carefully, for once wishing that I possessed Edythe's power to read minds, so I'd know what exactly to brace myself for.
Charlie twiddled with the remote, still looking uncomfortable. "I know you're getting to that age now, kid," he said at last. "That's natural. But seems like you and her are getting pretty serious and, well, there are some things you're going to have think about. My advice is, whatever you do, be prepared to take responsibility for it. It's not a game."
I stared at him, his face tinged slightly red, and though he was completely beating around the bush, I knew where he was going with this.
"Dad," I groaned, putting a hand to my head where I felt a headache forming as heat rushed to my face. "Seriously?"
Charlie glared at me, suddenly in parental-authority mode again. "You are going to sit and listen to this, and you're going to be mature about it."
"Mom already talked to me about all this stuff, Dad, I already know."
"But you didn't have a girlfriend back in Phoenix, did you?" he challenged. He raised his eyebrows at me, waiting.
"No," I muttered. "But I'm good, I promise."
Charlie hesitated. This obviously wasn't his favorite job in the world, and he seemed almost as eager to drop the subject as I was. He shifted uncomfortably where he sat.
"Just be responsible," he said at last. "That's all I'm asking. Whatever you do, think about the consequences beforehand."
"You don't have to worry about that, Dad," I muttered. "Seriously. Edythe is probably about the most responsible person in the world." By now, my face was probably approximately the color of a stoplight.
Charlie's red face was suddenly stern again. "This isn't her responsibility, it's yours. Because if you mess up and she gets pregnant—" I visibly grimaced, and wished the floor would open up and swallow me— "she's the one who's going to be left holding the bag. And it won't just be Earnest ready to kill you."
I folded my arms across my chest, feeling suddenly surly. "Seriously, Dad, there's nothing to worry about. We're not like that. I can't believe you're making me say this, but...I really do care about Edythe, and I'd never do anything to hurt her."
We both sat there a minute, tense and uncomfortable, with the touchy-feely direction this conversation had taken. In both our books, discussing our feelings on about anything definitely ranked more awkward than talking about sex.
"Can I go to bed now?" I asked at last.
Charlie sighed, and he seemed relieved to have the conversation over with. "Sure, kid, but one last thing."
I grumbled to myself.
"How's the balance thing coming along?" he wanted to know.
I relaxed slightly, and shrugged. "I kind of made some plans with Allen. We're going to help his girlfriend get her graduation announcements done, she's got a lot of things she's been stressed out about."
"Great," said Charlie, looking pleased. "What about Julie and La Push?"
I sighed. "Still not sure about that one."
"Just keep at it," he encouraged. "I know you'll do the right thing, kid."
I grimaced. In other words, if I didn't figure out how to work things out with Jules, then I was a failure.
"Sure, sure," I muttered, though I had to smile as the phrase made me think of Jules, and the way she always said it to her own parent in the same patronizing tone.
Charlie grinned at me, then turned the sound on the television back on. He relaxed back into the couch, apparently happy with the night's work. "Night, kid. Don't stay up too late."
"I won't," I answered as I turned and headed upstairs.
Naturally, Edythe was gone, possibly out hunting or something to pass the time, and she wouldn't be back until Charlie was asleep. From the looks of him, I doubted he was going to bed anytime soon.
I stood by my desk, rapping my knuckles on the wood surface in no particular rhythm as I tried to figure out what to do with myself. I was too wound up to read or listen to music. I could write an email to my mom, telling her I was coming to see her this weekend, but I sort of wanted to tell her that over the phone, and as it was three hours later in Florida than here, she was probably sound asleep at this hour.
Normally, I didn't mind being on my own, but strangely I was in the mood to talk to someone. I wasn't about to go back downstairs to hang out with Charlie, as there was the danger he might think of some other topic of sex education he'd forgotten. If it had been earlier in the evening, I might have thought about calling Allen up to go hang out somewhere, maybe the library—but it was way too late for that.
As I stared out the black window into the night, and what Charlie had said a few minutes ago drifted back to me, I suddenly knew exactly who it was I wanted to see. Whose current state had been a constant worry at the back of my mind, and who I didn't feel uncomfortable dropping in on anytime, anywhere.
I stood there in the middle of my room for a minute, debating with myself. I had probably an hour before Edythe would be back. Edythe would be furious with me—but she was really only worried about my safety, and on that count, she was being way overly cautious. My dad was right, it was the right thing to see Jules, and patch things up. I had to replace that last memory of the pain twisting her face with her usual bright and cheery smile.
I raced downstairs, jumping down the steps two at a time, seizing my jacket from the rack and forcing my arms through the sleeves in record time. It was late, but I had a feeling Charlie would be behind me when he knew where I was going.
Charlie heard me in the hall, and he turned to look at me, frowning with suspicion.
"Mind if I just take a quick trip down to La Push?" I said in a breath. "Won't be gone more than a hour. Probably three-quarters."
Charlie relaxed. He smiled widely at me. "Sure thing, kid. Stay as long as you want."
I flashed an appreciative grin. "Thanks a lot, Dad." In a second, I was out the door.
My eyes scanned the shadows as I darted to my truck. I felt like a criminal, and I looked around again, but of course it was so pitch black I couldn't see much of anything. I had to feel my way across the truck door to find the handle.
My eyes were just beginning to adjust when I shoved the keys into the ignition. However, instead of the familiar loud roar of the engine, I only heard an odd clicking noise. I twisted the keys back and tried again, but still it didn't start.
Something moved in my peripheral vision, and I jerked, my heart hammering in my chest as I realized I wasn't alone in the cab.
I turned to see Edythe sitting in the passenger's seat, still as a statue, her white skin glowing faintly in the darkness. Her eyes were staring down at something in her hand, a small black object I couldn't make out in the nonexistent light.
"Archie called," she said softly.
I mentally cursed. I'd forgotten about Archie. Obviously Edythe had him watching me.
"Your future abruptly disappeared a few minutes ago."
I stared at her, my heart still pounding, eyes still too wide.
Edythe continued, "If you remember, Archie can't see the wolves. When you decide to mingle your fate with theirs, you disappear, too. Can you understand why that might make me a little...anxious? Archie saw you disappear, and he couldn't see whether you would come home or not. For those few minutes, your future was a blank. Lost."
Edythe leaned back slightly. "We still don't know why that is. A natural defense they have against us?" She seemed to be talking more to herself now, and she idly twirled the piece of my truck in her delicate fingers. "But of course, I can read their thoughts, so they aren't protected against my power. Carine said the explanation might simply be that they are so unpredictable...Their transformations come about as the result of their unchecked passions, and it's more an involuntary reaction than a decision. So their futures are always in a state of being completely undecided, and so impossible to foresee..."
I stared out the front windshield as she spoke, listening to her musing with stoney, unyielding silence.
"Your truck will be in perfect running order again tomorrow morning, in time for school," she said. "In case you'd like to drive yourself."
I didn't look at her as I tore the keys from the ignition and got out of the truck.
"You can shut your window if you'd like me to stay away tonight," she said softly, just a second before I slammed the truck door behind me.
I stormed back into the house, and the door rattled in its frame as I slammed that door, too.
"What happened?" Charlie demanded, sitting up and looking around.
"Truck won't start," I said in a hard, flat voice.
"Want me to take a look at it?"
"No, I'll try it in the morning."
"You can take the cruiser if you want," Charlie said, half standing up from the couch as though to retrieve the keys.
I was to the stairs by now, and I paused reflexively at this. I wasn't supposed to go around driving a police car when I wasn't an officer. My dad must really want to get me down to La Push—I wondered just how depressed Bonnie had said Jules was.
My fist clenched at my side. "No thanks, I'm tired," I grumbled through gritted teeth. "Night."
I stamped up the stairs, and made a line straight from my window. I seized the frame with both hands, then shoved it closed with all of my strength. The metal collided with the side with a crash, and the glass trembled.
I stared at the dark glass for a long minute, breathing hard, my arms folded across my chest, until at last the glass settled and all was still. Then, with a sigh, I reached over and opened the window back up as wide as it would go.