I heard Edward speaking softly at the counter.　　"Ms. Cope?"　　"Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.　　"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?" His voice was like melting honey. I could　　imagine how much more overwhelming his eyes would be.　　"Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?" Ms. Cope fluttered. Why　　couldn't I do that?　　"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."　　"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she called to me.　　I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.　　"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With his back to　　the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.　　"I'll walk."　　I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held the door for me, his　　smile polite but his eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist　　that had just begun to fall. It felt nice — the first time I'd enjoyed　　the constant moisture falling out of the sky — as it washed my face clean　　of the sticky perspiration.　　"Thanks," I said as he followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick　　to miss Gym."　　"Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.　　"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" I was hoping he would, though　　it seemed unlikely. I couldn't picture him loading up to carpool with the　　rest of the kids from school; he didn't belong in the same world. But　　just hoping that he might gave me the first twinge of enthusiasm I'd felt　　for the outing.　　"Where are you all going, exactly?" He was still looking ahead,　　expressionless.　　"Down to La Push, to First Beach." I studied his face, trying to read it.　　His eyes seemed to narrow infinitesimally.　　He glanced down at me from the corner of his eye, smiling wryly. "I　　really don't think I was invited."　　I sighed. "I just invited you."　　"Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want　　him to snap." His eyes danced; he was enjoying the idea more than he　　should.　　"Mike-schmike." I muttered, preoccupied by the way he'd said "you and I."　　I liked it more than I should.　　We were near the parking lot now. I veered left, toward my truck.　　Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.　　"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, outraged. He was gripping a　　fistful of my jacket in one hand.　　I was confused. "I'm going home."　　"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I'm　　going to let you drive in your condition?" His voice was still indignant.　　"What condition? And what about my truck?" I complained.　　"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." He was towing me toward his　　car now, pulling me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from　　falling backward. He'd probably just drag me along anyway if I did.　　"Let go!" I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across　　the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me — I　　stumbled against the passenger door.　　"You are so pushy!" I grumbled.　　"It's open," was all he responded. He got in the driver's side.　　"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!" I stood by the car,　　fuming. It was raining harder now, and I'd never put my hood up, so my　　hair was dripping down my back.　　He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat.　　"Get in, Bella."　　I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the　　truck before he could catch me. I had to admit, they weren't good.　　"I'll just drag you back," he threatened, guessing my plan.　　I tried to maintain what dignity I could as I got into his car. I wasn't　　very successful — I looked like a half-drowned cat and my boots squeaked.　　"This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly.　　He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and　　the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to　　give him the silent treatment — my face in full pout mode — but then I　　recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my　　intentions.　　"Clair de Lune?" I asked, surprised.　　"You know Debussy?" He sounded surprised, too.　　"Not well," I admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around　　the house — I only know my favorites."　　"It's one of my favorites, too." He stared out through the rain, lost in　　thought.　　I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It　　was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. The rain　　blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I　　began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so　　evenly, though, I didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave　　it away.　　"What is your mother like?" he asked me suddenly.　　I glanced over to see him studying me with curious eyes.　　"She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," I said. He raised his　　eyebrows. "I have too much Charlie in me. She's more outgoing than I am,　　and braver. She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very　　unpredictable cook. She's my best friend." I stopped. Talking about her　　was making me depressed.　　"How old are you, Bella?" His voice sounded frustrated for some reason I　　couldn't imagine. He'd stopped the car, and I realized we were at　　Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see　　the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.　　"I'm seventeen," I responded, a little confused.　　"You don't seem seventeen."　　His tone was reproachful; it made me laugh.　　"What?" he asked, curious again.　　"My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more　　middle-aged every year." I laughed, and then sighed. "Well, someone has　　to be the adult." I paused for a second. "You don't seem much like a　　junior in high school yourself," I noted.　　He made a face and changed the subject.　　"So why did your mother marry Phil?"　　I was surprised he would remember the name; I'd mentioned it just once,　　almost two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.　　"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." I shook my head. The　　attraction was a mystery to me.　　"Do you approve?" he asked.　　"Does it matter?" I countered. "I want her to be happy… and he is who she　　wants."　　"That's very generous… I wonder," he mused.　　"What?"　　"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who　　your choice was?" He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching mine.　　"I-I think so," I stuttered. "But she's the parent, after all. It's a　　little bit different."　　"No one too scary then," he teased.　　I grinned in response. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial　　piercings and extensive tattoos?"　　"That's one definition, I suppose."　　"What's your definition?"　　But he ignored my question and asked me another. "Do you think that I　　could be scary?" He raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile　　lightened his face.　　I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go　　over better. I decided to go with the truth. "Hmmm… I think you could be,　　if you wanted to."　　"Are you frightened of me now?" The smile vanished, and his heavenly face　　was suddenly serious.　　"No." But I answered too quickly. The smile returned.　　"So, now are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked to distract　　him. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."　　He was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"　　"The Cullens adopted you?" I verified.　　"Yes."　　I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"　　"They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact.　　"I'm sorry," I mumbled.　　"I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been　　my parents for a long time now."　　"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way he　　spoke of them.　　"Yes." He smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."　　"You're very lucky."　　"I know I am."　　"And your brother and sister?"　　He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.　　"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." I didn't want to get out of the car.　　"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so　　you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." He grinned at me.　　"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." I sighed.　　He laughed, and there was an edge to his laughter.　　"Have fun at the beach… good weather for sunbathing." He glanced out at　　the sheeting rain.　　"Won't I see you tomorrow?"　　"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."　　"What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the　　disappointment wasn't too apparent in my voice.　　"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of　　Rainier."　　I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.　　"Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't think I　　fooled him, though. A smile was playing around the edges of his lips.　　"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look me　　straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes.　　I nodded helplessly.　　"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?" He smiled crookedly.　　The helplessness had faded as he spoke. I glared at him.　　"I'll see what I can do," I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. I　　slammed the door behind me with excessive force.　　He was still smiling as he drove away.　　===========================================================================　　6. SCARY STORIES　　As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, I　　was really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the　　pounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to　　peek out the curtain — again — it was suddenly there.　　I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my　　non-expectations. Of course there were the fainting comments. Jessica　　especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mike had kept　　his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement. She　　did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.　　"So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.　　"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point."　　"You looked kind of mad," she fished.　　"Did I?" I kept my expression blank.　　"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before.　　That was weird."　　"Weird," I agreed. She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls　　impatiently — I guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would　　make a good story for her to pass on.　　The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew he wasn't going　　to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica　　and Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie,　　Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together. And I couldn't stop　　the gloom that engulfed me as I realized I didn't know how long I would　　have to wait before I saw him again.　　At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike　　was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman　　who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it. But　　it was warmer today — almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be　　completely miserable.　　I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I　　didn't understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I　　was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and　　she was evidently unaware of that.　　"…don't know why Bella" — she sneered my name — "doesn't just sit with　　the Cullens from now on."　　I heard her muttering to Mike. I'd never noticed what an unpleasant,　　nasal voice she had, and I was surprised by the malice in it. I really　　didn't know her well at all, certainly not well enough for her to dislike　　me — or so I'd thought. "She's my friend; she sits with us," Mike　　whispered back loyally, but also a bit territorially. I paused to let　　Jess and Angela pass me. I didn't want to hear any more.　　That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La　　Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on　　the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break　　them now. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, and their　　parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to　　approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle　　with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him.　　"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I　　think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.　　"Yeah — why?"　　I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."　　"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many　　bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."　　"Oh," I murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."　　I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes　　to see a clear yellow light streaming through my window. I couldn't　　believe it. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was　　the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't　　seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun.　　Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the　　middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I　　left the blue would disappear again.　　The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen　　the store, but I'd never stopped there — not having much need for any　　supplies required for being outdoors over an extended period of time. In　　the parking lot I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra. As I　　pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around　　in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two other boys I had　　class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was　　there, flanked by Angela and Lauren. Three other girls stood with them,　　including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. That one gave　　me a dirty look as I got out of the truck, and whispered something to　　Lauren. Lauren shook out her cornsilk hair and eyed me scornfully.　　So it was going to be one of those days.　　At least Mike was happy to see me.　　"You came!" he called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today,　　didn't I?"　　"I told you I was coming," I reminded him.　　"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha… unless you invited someone,"　　Mike added.　　"Nope," I lied lightly, hoping I wouldn't get caught in the lie. But also　　wishing that a miracle would occur, and Edward would appear.　　Mike looked satisfied.　　"Will you ride in my car? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan."　　"Sure."　　He smiled blissfully. It was so easy to make Mike happy.　　"You can have shotgun," he promised. I hid my chagrin. It wasn't as　　simple to make Mike and Jessica happy at the same time. I could see　　Jessica glowering at us now.　　The numbers worked out in my favor, though. Lee brought two extra people,　　and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess in between　　Mike and me in the front seat of the Suburban. Mike could have been more　　graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed appeased.　　It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense　　green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute　　River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had the window seat. We'd　　rolled the windows down — the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine　　people in it — and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.　　I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers　　with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to　　me. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the　　sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose　　out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven　　summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs. The beach had only a　　thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into　　millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a　　distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta,　　sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with　　huge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled　　together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just　　out of reach of the waves.　　There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans　　floated on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them.　　The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment,　　but for now the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.　　We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of　　driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before.　　There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric　　and the boy I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood　　from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a　　teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.　　"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on　　one of the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping　　excitedly, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one　　of the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.　　"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.　　"You'll like this then — watch the colors." He lit another small branch　　and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up　　the dry wood.　　"It's blue," I said in surprise.　　"The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placed it　　where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me. Thankfully,　　Jess was on his other side. She turned to him and claimed his attention.　　I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.　　After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the　　nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide　　pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the　　only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the　　other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're　　seven and with your dad. It reminded me of Edward's request — that I not　　fall into the ocean.　　Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike,　　and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of the other　　girls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I　　waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I　　got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group. Mike gave me a huge smile　　when he saw that I was coming.　　The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods.　　The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with the adolescent　　laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter　　around me. I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots　　below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually I broke　　through the emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore　　again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to　　the sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely　　drained were teeming with life.　　I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The　　others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on　　the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the　　largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural　　aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated　　ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the　　edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the　　rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes　　wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return. I was　　completely absorbed, except for one small part of my mind that wondered　　what Edward was doing now, and trying to imagine what he would be saying　　if he were here with me.　　Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. I　　tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally I fell　　a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my　　jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.　　When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had　　multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black　　hair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation　　come to socialize.　　The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a　　share while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle.　　Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I　　noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me　　in interest. I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches　　and an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the　　oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with　　him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named Jessica, and　　the boy who noticed me was named Jacob.　　It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to　　be around — she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter.　　She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I was thinking　　about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at　　times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And　　then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. I　　knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me.　　During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky,　　darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the　　beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started　　to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the　　waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were　　gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike — with Jessica　　shadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the　　local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time　　they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with　　Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someone had　　thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around　　the circle, including the boy named Jacob and the oldest boy who had　　acted as spokesperson.　　A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to　　take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had　　long, glossy black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his　　neck. His skin was beautiful, silky and russet-colored; his eyes were　　dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had just　　a hint of childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, a very　　pretty face. However, my positive opinion of his looks was damaged by the　　first words out of his mouth.　　"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"　　It was like the first day of school all over again.　　"Bella," I sighed.　　"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You　　bought my dad's truck."　　"Oh," I said, relieved, shaking his sleek hand. "You're Billy's son. I