“Put me back on the sidewalk,” she said. Her lips were white.　　“So you faint at the sight of blood?” Could it get any more ironic?　　She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.　　“And not even your own blood,” I added, my grin widening.　　We were to the front office. The door was propped an inch open, and I kicked it out of my way.　　Ms. Cope jumped, startled. “Oh, my,” she gasped as she examined the ashen girl in my arms.　　“She fainted in Biology,” I explained, before her imagination could get too out of hand.　　Ms. Cope hurried to open the door to the nurse’s office. Bella’s eyes were open again, watching her. I heard the elderly nurse’s internal astonishment as I laid the girl carefully on the one shabby bed. As soon as Bella was out of my arms, I put the width of the room between us. My body was too excited, too eager, my muscles tense and the venom flowing. She was so warm and fragrant.　　“She’s just a little faint,” I reassured Mrs. Hammond. “They’re blood typing in biology.”　　She nodded, understanding now. “There’s always one.”　　I stifled a laugh. Trust Bella to be that one.　　“Just lie down for a minute, honey,” Mrs. Hammond said. “It’ll pass.”　　“I know,” Bella said.　　“Does this happen often?” the nurse asked. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　128　　“Sometimes,” Bella admitted.　　I tried to disguise my laughter as coughing.　　This brought me to the nurse’s attention. “You can go back to class now,” she said.　　I looked her straight in the eye and lied with perfect confidence. “I’m supposed to stay with her.”　　Hmm. I wonder… oh well. Mrs. Hammond nodded.　　It worked just fine on her. Why did Bella have to be so difficult?　　“I’ll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear,” the nurse said, slightly uncomfortable from looking into my eyes—the way a human should be—and left the room.　　“You were right,” Bella moaned, closing her eyes.　　What did she mean? I jumped to the worst conclusion: she’d accepted my warnings.　　“I usually am,” I said, trying to keep the amusement in my voice; it sounded sour now. “But about what in particular this time?”　　“Ditching is healthy,” she sighed.　　Ah, relief again.　　She was silent then. She just breathed slowly in and out. Her lips were beginning to turn pink. Her mouth was slightly out of balance, her lower lip just a little too full to match the top. Staring at her mouth made me feel strange. Made me want to move closer to her, which was not a good idea.　　“You scared me for a minute there,” I said—to restart the conversation so that I could hear her voice again. “I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods.”　　“Ha ha,” she said.　　“Honestly—I’ve seen corpses with better color.” This was actually true. “I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder.” And I would have.　　“Poor Mike,” she sighed. “I’ll bet he’s mad.”　　Fury pulsed through me, but I contained it quickly. Her concern was surely just pity. She was kind. That was all. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　129　　“He absolutely loathes me,” I told her, cheered by that idea.　　“You can’t know that.”　　“I saw his face—I could tell.” It was probably true that reading his face would have given me enough information to make that particular deduction. All this practice with Bella was sharpening my skill at reading human expressions.　　“How did you see me? I thought you were ditching.” Her face looked better— the green undertone had vanished from her translucent skin.　　“I was in my car, listening to a CD.”　　Her expression twitched, like my very ordinary answer had surprised her somehow.　　She opened her eyes again when Mrs. Hammond returned with an ice pack.　　“Here you go, dear,” the nurse said as she laid it across Bella’s forehead. “You’re looking better.”　　“I think I’m fine,” Bella said, and she sat up while pulling the ice pack away. Of course. She didn’t like to be taken care of.　　Mrs. Hammond’s wrinkled hands fluttered toward the girl, as if she were going to push her back down, but just then Ms. Cope opened the door to the office and leaned in. With her appearance came the smell of fresh blood, just a whiff.　　Invisible in the office behind her, Mike Newton was still very angry, wishing the heavy boy he dragged now was the girl who was in here with me.　　“We’ve got another one,” Ms. Cope said.　　Bella quickly jumped down from the cot, eager to be out of the spotlight.　　“Here,” she said, handing the compress back to Mrs. Hammond. “I don’t need this.”　　Mike grunted as he halfshoved Lee Stevens through the door. Blood was still dripping down the hand Lee held to his face, trickling toward his wrist.　　“Oh no.” This was my cue to leave—and Bella’s, too, it seemed. “Get out to the office, Bella.”　　She stared up at me with bewildered eyes.　　“Trust me—go.” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　130　　She whirled and caught the door before it had swung shut, rushing through to the office. I followed a few inches behind her. Her swinging hair brushed my hand…　　She turned to look at me, still wideeyed.　　“You actually listened to me.” That was a first.　　Her small nose wrinkled. “I smelled the blood.”　　I stared at her in blank surprise. “People can’t smell blood.”　　“Well, I can—that’s what makes me sick. It smells like rust…and salt.”　　My face froze, still staring.　　Was she really even human? She looked human. She felt soft as a human. She smelled human—well, better actually. She acted human…sort of. But she didn’t think like a human, or respond like one.　　What other option was there, though?　　“What?” she demanded.　　“It’s nothing.”　　Mike Newton interrupted us then, entering the room with resentful, violent thoughts.　　“You look better,” he said to her rudely.　　My hand twitched, wanting to teach him some manners. I would have to watch myself, or I would end up actually killing this obnoxious boy.　　“Just keep your hand in your pocket,” she said. For one wild second, I thought she was talking to me.　　“It’s not bleeding anymore,” he answered sullenly. “Are you going back to class?”　　“Are you kidding? I’d just have to turn around and come back.”　　That was very good. I’d thought I was going to have to miss this whole hour with her, and now I got extra time instead. I felt greedy, a miser hording over each minute.　　“Yeah, I guess…” Mike mumbled. “So are you going this weekend? To the beach?”　　Ah, they had plans. Anger froze me in place. It was a group trip, though. I’d seen some of this in other students’ heads. It wasn’t just the two of them. I was still furious. I leaned motionlessly against the counter, trying to control myself. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　131　　“Sure, I said I was in,” she promised him.　　So she’d said yes to him, too. The jealousy burned, more painful than thirst.　　No, it was just a group outing, I tried to convince myself. She was just spending the day with friends. Nothing more.　　“We’re meeting at my dad’s store, at ten.” And Cullen’s NOT invited.　　“I’ll be there,” she said.　　“I’ll see you in Gym, then.”　　“See you,” she replied.　　He shuffled off to his class, his thoughts full of ire. What doesshe see in that freak? Sure, he’s rich, I guess. Chicks think he’s hot, but I don’t see that. Too…too perfect. I bet his dad experiments with plastic surgery on all of them. That’s why they’re all so white and pretty. It’s not natural. And he’s sort of…scarylooking. Sometimes, when he stares at me, I’d swear he’s thinking about killing me… Freak…　　Mike wasn’t entirely unperceptive.　　“Gym,” Bella repeated quietly. A groan.　　I looked at her, and saw that she was sad about something again. I wasn’t sure why, but it was clear that she didn’t want to go to her next class with Mike, and I was all for that plan.　　I went to her side and bent close to her face, feeling the warmth of her skin radiating out to my lips. I didn’t dare breathe.　　“I can take care of that,” I murmured. “Go sit down and look pale.”　　She did as I asked, sitting in one of the folding chairs and leaning her head back against the wall, while, behind me, Ms. Cope came out of the back room and went to her desk. With her eyes closed, Bella looked as if she’d passed out again. Her full color hadn’t returned yet.　　I turned to the secretary. Hopefully Bella was paying attention to this, I thought sardonically. This was how a human was supposed to respond.　　“Ms. Cope?” I asked, using my persuasive voice again.　　Her eyelashes fluttered, and her heart sped up. Too young, get a hold of yourself! “Yes?” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　132　　That was interesting. When Shelly Cope’s pulse quickened, it was because she found me physically attractive, not because she was frightened. I was used to that around human females…yet I hadn’t considered that explanation for Bella’s racing heart.　　I rather liked that. Too much, in fact. I smiled, and Mrs. Cope’s breathing got louder.　　“Bella has gym next hour, and I don’t think she feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?” I stared into her depthless eyes, enjoying the havoc that this wreaked on her thought processes. Was it possible that Bella…？　　Mrs. Cope had to swallow loudly before she answered. “Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?”　　“No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won’t mind.”　　I wasn’t paying much attention to her now. I was exploring this new possibility.　　Hmm. I’d like to believe that Bella found me attractive like other humans did, but when did Bella ever have the same reactions as other humans? I shouldn’t get my hopes up.　　“Okay, it’s all taken care of. You feel better, Bella.”　　Bella nodded weakly—overacting a bit.　　“Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?” I asked, amused by her poor theatrics. I knew she would want to walk—she wouldn’t want to be weak.　　“I’ll walk,” she said.　　Right again. I was getting better at this.　　She got up, hesitating for a moment as if to check her balance. I held the door for her, and we walked out into the rain.　　I watched her as she lifted her face to the light rain with her eyes closed, a slight smile on her lips. What was she thinking? Something about this action seemed off, and I quickly realized why the posture looked unfamiliar to me. Normal human girls wouldn’t raise their faces to the drizzle that way; normal human girls usually wore makeup, even here in this wet place.　　Bella never wore makeup, nor should she. The cosmetics industry made billions of dollars a year from women who were trying to attain skin like hers. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　133　　“Thanks,” she said, smiling at me now. “It’s worth getting sick to miss Gym.”　　I stared across the campus, wondering how to prolong my time with her. “Anytime,” I said.　　“So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?” She sounded hopeful.　　Ah, her hope was soothing. She wanted me with her, not Mike Newton. And I wanted to say yes. But there were many things to consider. For one, the sun would be shining this Saturday…　　“Where are you all going, exactly?” I tried to keep my voice nonchalant, as if it didn’t matter much. Mike had said beach, though. Not much chance of avoiding sunlight there.　　“Down to La Push, to First Beach.”　　Damn. Well, it was impossible, then.　　Anyway, Emmett would be irritated if I cancelled our plans.　　I glanced down at her, smiling wryly. “I really don’t think I was invited.”　　She sighed, already resigned. “I just invited you.”　　“Let’s you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don’t want him to snap.” I thought about snappingpoor Mike myself, and enjoyed the mental picture intensely.　　“Mikeschmike,” she said, dismissive again. I smiled widely.　　And then she started to walk away from me.　　Without thinking about my action, I reached out and caught her by the back of her rain jacket. She jerked to a stop.　　“Where do you think you’re going?” I was almost angry that she was leaving me. I hadn’t had enough time with her. She couldn’t go, not yet.　　“I’m going home,” she said, baffled as to why this should upset me.　　“Didn’t you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I’m going to let you drive in your condition?” I knew she wouldn’t like that—my implication of weakness on her part. But I needed to practice for the Seattle trip, anyway. See if I could handle her proximity in an enclosed space. This was a much shorter journey. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　134　　“What condition?” she demanded. “And what about my truck?”　　“I’ll have Alice drop it off after school.” I pulled her back to my car carefully, as I now knew that walkingforward was challenging enough for her.　　“Let go!” she said, twisting sideways and nearly tripping. I held one hand out to catch her, but she righted herself before it was necessary. I shouldn’t be looking for excuses to touch her. That started me thinking about Ms. Cope’s reaction to me, but I filed it away for later. There was much to be considered on that front.　　I let her go beside the car, and she stumbled into the door. I would have to be even more careful, to take into account her poor balance…　　“You are sopushy !”　　“It’s open.”　　I got in on my side and started the car. She held her body rigidly, still outside, though the rain had picked up and I knew she didn’t like the cold and wet. Water was soaking through her thick hair, darkening it to near black.　　“I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!”　　Of course she was—I just wasn’t capable of letting her go.　　I rolled her window down and leaned toward her. “Get in, Bella.”　　Her eyes narrowed, and I guessed that she was debating whether or not to make a run for it.　　“I’ll just drag you back,” I promised, enjoying the chagrin on her face when she realized I meant it.　　Her chin stiffly in the air, she opened her door and climbed in. Her hair dripped on the leather and her boots squeaked against each other.　　“This is completely unnecessary,” she said coldly. I thought she looked embarrassed under the pique.　　I just turned up the heater so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable, and set the music to a nice background level. I drove out toward the exit, watching her from the corner of my eye. Her lower lip was jutting out stubbornly. I stared at this, examining how it made me feel… thinking of the secretary’s reaction again…　　Suddenly she looked at the stereo and smiled, her eyes widening. “Clair de Lune?” she asked. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　135　　A fan of the classics? “You know Debussy?”　　“Not well,” she said. “My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house—I only know my favorites.”　　“It’s one of my favorites, too.” I stared at the rain, considering that. I actually had something in common with the girl. I’d begun to think that we were opposites in every way.　　She seemed more relaxed now, staring at the rain like me, with unseeing eyes. I used her momentary distraction to experiment with breathing.　　I inhaled carefully through my nose.　　Potent.　　I clutched the steering wheel tighter. The rain made her smell better. I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. Stupidly, I was suddenly imaging how she would taste.　　I tried to swallow against the burn in my throat, to think of something else.　　“What is your mother like?” I asked as a distraction.　　Bella smiled. “She looks a lot like me, but she’s prettier.”　　I doubted that.　　“I have too much Charlie in me,” she went on. “She’s more outgoing than I am, and braver.”　　I doubted that, too.　　“She’s irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she’s a very unpredictable cook. She’s my best friend.” Her voice had turned melancholy; her forehead creased.　　Again, she sounded more like parent than child.　　I stopped in front of her house, wondering too late if I was supposed to know where she lived. No, this wouldn’t be suspicious in such a small town, with her father a public figure…　　“How old are you, Bella?” She must be older than her peers. Perhaps she’d been late to start school, or been held back…that wasn’t likely, though.　　“I’m seventeen,” she answered.　　“You don’t seem seventeen.”　　She laughed.　　“What?” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　136　　“My mom always says I was born thirtyfive years old and that I get more middle aged every year.” She laughed again, and then sighed. “Well, someone has to be the adult.”　　This clarified things for me. I could see it now…how the irresponsible mother helped explain Bella’s maturity. She’d had to grow up early, to become the caretaker. That’s why she didn’t like being cared for—she felt it was her job.　　“You don’t seem much like a junior in high school yourself,” she said, pulling me from my reverie.　　I grimaced. For everything I perceived about her, she perceived too much in return. I changed the subject.　　“So why did your mother marry Phil?”　　She hesitated a minute before answering. “My mother…she’s very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she’s crazy about him.” She shook her head indulgently.　　“Do you approve?” I wondered.　　“Does it matter?” she asked. “I want her to be happy…and he is who she wants.”　　The unselfishness of her comment would have shocked me, except that it fit in all too well with what I’d learned of her character.　　“That’s very generous…I wonder.”　　“What?”　　“Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?”　　It was a foolish question, and I could not keep my voice casual while I asked it. How stupid to even consider someone approving of me for their daughter. How stupid to even think of Bella choosing me.　　“II think so,” she stuttered, reacting in some way to my gaze. Fear…or attraction?　　“But she’s the parent, after all. It’s a little bit different,” she finished.　　I smiled wryly. “No one too scary then.”　　She grinned at me. “What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercings and extensive tattoos?” （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　137　　“That’s one definition, I suppose.” A very nonthreatening definition, to my mind.　　“What’s your definition?”　　She always asked the wrong questions. Or exactly the right questions, maybe. The ones I didn’t want to answer, at any rate.　　“Do you think that I could be scary?” I asked her, trying to smile a little.　　She thought it through before answering me in a serious voice. “Hmm…I think you could be, if you wanted to.”　　I was serious, too. “Are you frightened of me now?”　　She answered at once, not thinking this one through. “No.”　　I smiled more easily. I did not think she was entirely telling the truth, but nor was she truly lying. She wasn’t frightened enough to want to leave, at least. I wondered how she would feel if I told her she was having this discussion with a vampire. I cringed internally at her imagined reaction.　　“So, now are you going to tell me about your family? It’s got to be a much more interesting story than mine.”　　A more frightening one, at least.　　“What do you want to know?” I asked cautiously.　　“The Cullens adopted you?”　　“Yes.”　　She hesitated, then spoke in a small voice. “What happened to your parents?”　　This wasn’t so hard; I wasn’t even having to lie to her. “They died a very long time ago.”　　“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, clearly worried about having hurt me.　　She was worried about me.　　“I don’t really remember them that clearly,” I assured her. “Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now.”　　“And you love them,” she deduced.　　I smiled. “Yes. I couldn’t imagine two better people.”　　“You’re very lucky.”　　“I know I am.” In that one circumstance, the matter of parents, my luck could not be denied. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　138　　“And your brother and sisters?”　　If I let her push for too many details, I would have to lie. I glanced at the clock, disheartened that my time with her was up.　　“My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me.”　　“Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go.”　　She didn’t move. She didn’t want our time to be up, either. I liked that very, very much.　　“And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don’t have to tell him about the Biology incident.” I grinned at the memory of her embarrassment in my arms.　　“I’m sure he’s already heard. There are no secrets in Forks.” She said the name of the town with distinct distaste.　　I laughed at her words. No secrets, indeed. “Have fun at the beach.” I glanced at the pouring rain, knowing it would not last, and wishing more strongly than usual that it could. “Good weather for sunbathing.” Well, it would be by Saturday. She would enjoy that.　　“Won’t I see you tomorrow?”　　The worry in her tone pleased me.　　“No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early.” I was mad at myself now for having made the plans. I could break them…but there was no such thing as too much hunting at this point, and my family was going to be concerned enough about my behavior without me revealing how obsessive I was turning.　　“What are you going to do?” she asked, not sounded happy with my revelation.　　Good.　　“We’re going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier.” Emmett was eager for bear season.　　“Oh, well, have fun,” she said halfheartedly. Her lack of enthusiasm pleased me again.　　As I stared at her, I began to feel almost agonized at the thought of saying even a temporary goodbye. She was just so soft and vulnerable. It seemed foolhardy to let her （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　139 out of my sight, where anything could happen to her. And yet, the worst things that could happen to her would result from being with me.　　“Will you do something for me this weekend?” I asked seriously.　　She nodded, her eyes wide and bewildered by my intensity.　　Keep it light.　　“Don’t be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So…try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?”　　I smiled ruefully at her, hoping she couldn’t see the sadness in my eyes. How much I wished that she wasn’t so much better off away from me, no matter what might happen to her there.　　Run, Bella, run. I love you too much, for your good or mine.　　She was offended by my teasing. She glared at me. “I’ll see what I can do,” she snapped, jumping out into the rain and slamming the door as hard as she could behind her.　　Just like an angry kitten that believes it’s a tiger.　　I curled my hand around the key I’d just picked from her jacket pocket, and smiled as I drove away. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　140　　　　　　　　7. Melody I had to wait when I got back to school. The final hour wasn’t out yet. That was good, because I had things to think about and I needed the alone time.　　Her scent lingered in the car. I kept the windows up, letting it assault me, trying to get used to the feel of intentionally torching my throat.　　Attraction.　　It was a problematic thing to contemplate. So many sides to it, so many different meanings and levels. Not the same thing as love, but tied up in it inextricably.　　I had no idea if Bella was attracted to me. （Would her mental silence somehow continue to get more and more frustrating until I went mad? Or was there a limit that I would eventually reach?）　　I tried to compare her physical responses to others, like the secretary and Jessica Stanley, but the comparison was inconclusive. The same markers—changes in heart rate and breathing patterns—could just as easily mean fear or shock or anxiety as they did interest. It seemed unlikely that Bella could be entertaining the same kinds of thoughts that Jessica Stanley used to have. After all, Bella knew very well that there was something wrong with me, even if she didn’t know what exactly it was. She had touched my icy skin, and then yanked her hand away from the chill.　　And yet…as I remembered those fantasies that used to repulse me, but remembered them with Bella in Jessica’s place…　　I was breathing more quickly, the fire clawing up and down my throat.　　What if it had been Bella imagining me with my arms wrapped around her fragile body? Feeling me pull her tightly against my chest and then cupping my hand under her chin? Brushing the heavy curtain of her hair back from her blushing face? Tracing the shape of her full lips with my fingertips? Leaning my face closer to hers, where I could feel the heat of her breath on my mouth? Moving closer still…　　But then I flinched away from the daydream, knowing, as I had known when Jessica had imagined these things, what would happen if I got that close to her. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　141　　Attraction was an impossible dilemma, because I was already too attracted to Bella in the worst way.　　Did I want Bella to be attracted to me, a woman to a man?　　That was the wrong question. The right question was should I want Bella to be attracted to me that way, and that answer was no. Because I was not a human man, and that wasn’t fair to her.　　With every fiber of my being, I ached to be a normal man, so that I could hold her in my arms without risking her life. So that I could be free to spin my own fantasies, fantasies that didn’t end in with her blood on my hands, her blood glowing in my eyes.　　My pursuit of her was indefensible. What kind of relationship could I offer her, when I couldn’t risk touching her?　　I hung my head in my hands.　　It was all the more confusing because I had never felt so human in my whole life—not even when I was human, as far as I could recall. When I had been human, my thoughts had all been turned to a soldier’s glory. The Great War had raged through most of my adolescence, and I’d been only nine months away from my eighteenth birthday when the influenza had struck… I had just vague impressions of those human years, murky memories that faded more with every passing decade. I remembered my mother most clearly, and felt an ancient ache when I thought of her face. I recalled dimly how much she had hated the future I’d raced eagerly toward, praying every night when she said grace at dinner that the “horrid war” would end… I had no memories of another kind of yearning. Besides my mother’s love, there was no other love that had made me wish to stay…　　This was entirely new to me. I had no parallels to draw, no comparisons to make.　　The love I felt for Bella had come purely, but now the waters were muddied. I wanted very much to be able to touch her. Did she feel the same way?　　That didn’t matter, I tried to convince myself.　　I stared at my white hands, hating their hardness, their coldness, their inhuman strength…　　I jumped when the passenger door opened. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　142　　Ha. Caught you by surprise. There’s a first, Emmett thought as he slid into the seat. “I’ll bet Mrs. Goff thinks you’re on drugs, you’ve been so erratic lately. Where were you today?”　　“I was…doing good deeds.”　　Huh?　　I chuckled. “Caring for the sick, that kind of thing.”　　That confused him more, but then he inhaled and caught the scent in the car.　　“Oh. The girl again?”　　I grimaced.　　This is getting weird.　　“Tell me about it,” I mumbled.　　He inhaled again. “Hmm, she does have a quite a flavor, doesn’t she?”　　The snarl broke through my lips before his words had even registered all the way, an automatic response.　　“Easy, kid, I’m just sayin.’”　　The others arrived then. Rosalie noticed the scent at once and glowered at me, still not over her irritation. I wondered what her problem was, but all I could hear from her were insults.　　I didn’t like Jasper’s reaction, either. Like Emmett, he noticed Bella’s appeal. Not that the scent had, for either of them, a thousandth portion of the draw it had for me. I was still upset me that her blood was sweet to them. Jasper had poor control…　　Alice skipped to my side of the car and held her hand out for Bella’s truck key.　　“I only saw that I was,” she said—obscurely, as was her habit. “You’ll have to tell me the whys.”　　“This doesn’t mean—”　　“I know, I know. I’ll wait. It won’t be long.”　　I sighed and gave her the key.　　I followed her to Bella’s house. The rain was pounding down like a million tiny hammers, so loud that maybe Bella’s human ears couldn’t hear the thunder of the truck’s engine. I watched her window, but she didn’t come to look out. Maybe she wasn’t there. There were no thoughts to hear. （C） 2008 Stephenie Meyer　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　143　　It made me sad that I couldn’t hear enough even to check on her—to make sure she was happy, or safe, at the least.　　Alice climbed in the back and we sped home. The roads were empty, and so it only took a few minutes. We trooped into the house, and then went to our various pastimes.　　Emmett and Jasper were in the middle of an elaborate game of chess, utilizing eight joined boards—spread out along the glass back wall—and their own complicated set of rules. They wouldn’t let me play; only Alice would play games with me anymore.　　Alice went to her computer just around the corner from them and I could hear her monitors sing to life. Alice was working on a fashion design project for Rosalie’s wardrobe, but Rosalie did not join her today, to stand behind her and direct cut and color as Alice’s hand traced over the touch sensitive screens （Carlisle and I had had to tweak that system a bit, given that most such screens responded to temperature）。 Instead, today Rosalie sprawled sullenly on the sofa and started flipping through twenty channels a second on the flat screen, never pausing. I could hear her trying to decide whether or not to go out to the garage and tune her BMW again.　　Esme was upstairs, humming over a new set of blue prints.　　Alice leaned her head around the wall after a moment and started mouthing Emmett’s next moves—Emmett sat on the floor with his back to her—to Jasper, who kept his expression very smooth as he cut off Emmett’s favorite knight.　　And I, for the first time in so long that I felt ashamed, went to sit at the exquisite grand piano stationed just off the entryway.