I lurched off the cot to make room for the next victim and handed the compress back to the nurse. “Here, I don’t need this.”
And then McKayla staggered through the door, now supporting Leann Stephens, another girl in our Biology class. She was currently sallow green. Edythe and I drew back against the wall to give them room.
“Oh no,” Edythe murmured. “Go out to the office, Beau.”
I looked down at her, confused.
“Trust me—go.”
I spun and caught the door before it closed, floundering out of the infirmary. I could feel Edythe right behind me.
“You actually listened to me,” she said, surprised.
“I smelled the blood.” Leann wasn’t sick from just watching other people. Much less embarrassing, I thought.
“People can’t smell blood,” Edythe contradicted.
“I can—that’s what makes me sick. It smells like rust … and salt.”
She was staring at me with a wary expression.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s nothing.”
McKayla came through the door then, glancing from Edythe to me and back again.
“Thanks so much for your help, Edythe,” she said, her sickly sweet tone a pretty good indication that Edythe was right about the loathing thing. “I don’t know what Beau here would have done without you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Edythe replied with an amused smile.
“You look better,” McKayla said to me in the same tone. “I’m so glad.”
“Just keep your hand in your pocket,” I cautioned her again.
“It’s not bleeding anymore,” she told me, her voice going back to normal. “Are you coming to class?”
“No thanks. I’d just have to turn around and come back.”
“Yeah, I guess… . So are you going this weekend? To the beach?” While she spoke, she flashed a dark look toward Edythe, who was standing against the cluttered counter, motionless as a sculpture, staring off into space.
I didn’t want to upset her more. “Sure, I said I was in.”
“We’re meeting at my parents’ store at ten.” Her eyes flickered to Edythe again, and I could tell she was worried she was giving out too much information. Her body language made it clear this wasn’t an open invitation.
“I’ll be there,” I promised.
“I’ll see you in Gym, then,” she said, moving uncertainly toward the door.
“Yeah, see you,” I replied.
She looked at me again, her round face slightly pouting, and then as she walked through the door, her shoulders slumped. Guilt lanced through me, the same as yesterday. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but it seemed like it just kept happening. I thought about looking at her disappointed face all through Gym.
“Ugh, Gym,” I muttered.
“I can take care of that.” I hadn’t heard Edythe walk over, but now she spoke from right beside me, making me jump. “Go sit down and look pale,” she instructed in a whisper.
That wasn’t a challenge; I was usually pale, and the recent episode had left a light sheen of sweat on my face. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting was exhausting.
I heard Edythe speaking softly at the counter.
“Mr. Cope?”
I hadn’t heard the man return to his desk, but he answered, “Yes?”
“Beau has Gym next hour, and I don’t think he feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should drive him home. Do you mind excusing him from class?” Her voice was like melting honey. I could guess how much more overwhelming her eyes would be.
“Do you need to be excused, too, Edythe?” Mr. Cope’s voice broke.
Why couldn’t I do that to people?
“No, I have Mr. Goff,” Edythe said. “He won’t mind.”
“Okay, it’s all taken care of. You feel better, Beau,” Mr. Cope called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.
“Can you walk, or do you want me to help you again?” With her back to the receptionist, her expression turned sarcastic.
“I’ll walk.”
I stood carefully, and I was still fine. She opened the door for me, her smile polite but her eyes mocking. I felt stupid as I walked through the door, out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. But it felt good—the first time I’d enjoyed the never-ending moisture falling out of the sky—as it washed the sweat off my face.
“Thanks for that,” I said when she’d followed me out. “It’s almost worth getting sick to miss Gym.”
“Anytime,” she promised. She stared past me into the rain.
“So are you going? This Saturday—the beach trip?” I was hoping she would, though it seemed unlikely. I couldn’t picture her loading up to carpool with the rest of the kids from school; she didn’t belong in the same world. But just wishing that she might gave me the first thrill of enthusiasm I’d felt for the outing.
“Where are you all going?” She was still staring ahead, expressionless, but her question made me hope she was considering it.
“Down to La Push, to First Beach.”
I watched her face, trying to read it. I thought I saw her eyes narrow just slightly.
She finally looked up at me and smiled. “I really don’t think I was invited.”
“I just invited you.”
“Let’s you and I not antagonize poor McKayla any more this week. We don’t want her to snap.” Her eyes danced, like she was enjoying the idea more than she should.
“Fine, whatever,” I grumbled, preoccupied by the way she’d said you and I. I liked it more than I should.
We were at the parking lot now, so I angled toward my truck. Something caught my jacket and yanked me back half a step.
“Where are you going?” she asked, surprised. Her little hand had a fistful of my jacket. She didn’t look like she’d even planted her feet. For a second I couldn’t answer. She denied being a superhero, but my mind couldn’t seem to frame it another way. It was like Supergirl had left her cape at home.
I wondered if it was supposed to bother me that she was so much stronger than I was, but I hadn’t been insecure about things like that for a long time. Ever since I’d outgrown my bullies, I’d been fairly well satisfied. Sure, I’d like to be coordinated, but it didn’t bother me that I wasn’t good at sports. I didn’t have time for them anyway, and they’d always seemed a little childish. Why get so worked up about a bunch of people chasing a ball around? I was strong enough that I could make people leave me alone, and that was all I wanted.
So, this small girl was stronger than I was. A lot. But I was willing to bet she was stronger than everyone else I knew, kids and adults alike. She could take Schwarzenegger in his prime. I couldn’t compete with that, and I didn’t need to. She was special.
“Beau?” she asked, and I realized I hadn’t answered her question.
“Uh, what?”
“I asked where you were going.”
“Home. Or am I not?” Her expression confused me.
She smiled. “Didn’t you hear me promise to take you safely home? Do you think I’m going to let you drive in your condition?”
“What condition?”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you have a weak vasovagal system.”
“I think I’ll survive,” I said. I tried to take another step toward my truck, but her hand didn’t free my jacket.
I stopped and looked down at her again. “Okay, why don’t you tell me what you want me to do?”
Her smile got wider. “Very sensible. You’re going to get into my car, and I am going to drive you home.”
“I have two issues with that. One, it’s not necessary, and two, what about my truck?”
“One, necessary is a subjective word, and two, I’ll have Archie drop it off after school.”
I was distracted by the casual reminder that she had siblings—strange, pale, beautiful siblings. Special siblings? Special like her?
“Is there any point in resisting?”
I tried to decipher all the layers to her smile, but I didn’t get very far. “It warms my cold heart to see you learning so quickly. This way.”
She dropped her fistful of jacket and turned. I followed her willingly. The smooth roll of her hips was just as hypnotic as her eyes. And there wasn’t a downside to getting more time with her.
The inside of the Volvo was just as pristine as the outside. Instead of the smell of gasoline and tobacco, there was just a faint perfume. It was almost familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Whatever it was, it smelled amazing.
As the engine purred quietly to life, she played with a few dials, turning the heat on and the music down.
“Is that ‘Clair de Lune’?” I asked.
She glanced at me, surprised. “You’re a fan of Debussy?”
I shrugged. “My mom plays a lot of classical stuff around the house. I only know my favorites.”
“It’s one of my favorites, too.”
“Well, imagine that,” I said. “We have something in common.”
I expected her to laugh, but she only stared out through the rain.
I relaxed against the light gray seat, responding automatically to the familiar melody. Because I was mostly watching her from the corner of my eye, the rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. It took me a minute to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so smoothly I didn’t feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away.
“What’s your mother like?” she asked suddenly.
Her butterscotch eyes studied me curiously while I answered.
“She kind of looks like me—same eyes, same color hair—but she’s short. She’s an extrovert, and pretty brave. She’s also slightly eccentric, a little irresponsible, and a very unpredictable cook. She was my best friend.” I stopped. It made me depressed to talk about her in the past tense.
“How old are you, Beau?” Her voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn’t imagine.
The car stopped, and I realized we were at Charlie’s house already. The rain had really picked up, so heavy now that I could barely see the house. It was like the car was submerged in a vertical river.
“I’m seventeen,” I said, a little confused by her tone.
“You don’t seem seventeen,” she said—it was like an accusation.
I laughed.
“What?” she demanded.
“My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year.” I laughed again, 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, either.”
She made a face and changed the subject.
“Why did your mother marry Phil?”
I was surprised that she remembered Phil’s name; I was sure I’d only said it once, almost two months ago. It took me a second to answer.
“My mom … she’s very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. Anyway, she’s crazy about him.” Personally I didn’t see it, but did anyone ever think anyone was good enough for his mom?
“Do you approve?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I want her to be happy, and he’s who she wants.”
“That’s very generous… . I wonder …”
“What?”
“Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?” Her eyes were suddenly intent, searching mine.
“I—I think so,” I stuttered. “But she’s the adult—on paper at least. It’s a little different.”
Her face relaxed. “No one too scary, then,” she teased.
I grinned back. “What do you mean by scary? Tattoos and facial piercings?”
“That’s one definition, I suppose.”
“What’s your definition?”
She ignored me and asked another question. “Do you think I could be scary?” She raised one eyebrow.
I pretended to examine her face for a minute, just as an excuse to stare at her, my favorite thing to do.
Her features were so delicate, so symmetrical. Her face would stop anyone in his tracks, but it wouldn’t make him run in the other direction. The opposite.
“It’s kind of hard to imagine that,” I admitted.
She frowned to herself.
“But, I mean, I’m sure you could be, if you wanted to.”
She tilted her head and gave me an exasperated smile, but didn’t say anything else.
“So are you going to tell me about your family?” I asked. “It’s got to be a much more interesting story than mine.”
She was instantly cautious. “What do you want to know?”
“The Cullens adopted you?”
“Yes.”
I hesitated for a minute. “What happened to your parents?”
“They died many years ago.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t really remember them clearly. Carine and Earnest have been my parents for a long time now.”
“And you love them.” It wasn’t a question. It was obvious in the way she said their names.
“Yes.” She smiled. “I can’t imagine two better people.”
“Then you’re very lucky.”
“I know it.”
“And your brother and sister?”
She glanced at the clock on the dashboard.
“My brother and sister, and Jessamine and Royal 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.”
It was stupid, but I didn’t want to get out of the car.
“And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home and you have to explain about the syncopal episode.”
She was good with the medical jargon, but then, her mother was a doctor.
“I’m sure he’s already heard. There are no secrets in Forks,” I grumbled.
Apparently I’d said something funny, but I couldn’t guess what it was, or why there was an edge to her laughter.
“Have fun at the beach,” she said when she was finished. “Good weather for sunbathing.” She gestured to the sheeting rain.
“Won’t I see you tomorrow?”
“No. Eleanor and I are starting the weekend early.”
“What are you going to do?” A friend could ask that, right? I hoped she couldn’t hear the disappointment in my voice.
“We’ll be hiking the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier.”
“Oh, sounds fun.”
She smiled. “Will you do something for me this weekend?” She turned to look me straight in the eyes, her own burning in their hypnotic way.
I nodded, helpless. Anything, I could have said, and it would have been true.
“Don’t be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. Try not to fall into the ocean or get run over by anything, all right?”
She flashed her dimples at me, which took away some of the sting of being called incompetent.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I promised.
I jumped out into the vertical river and ran for the porch. By the time I turned around, the Volvo had disappeared.
“Oh!” I clutched at my jacket pocket, remembering that I’d forgotten to give her my key.
The pocket was empty.
6. SCARY STORIES
WHILE I TRIED TO CONCENTRATE ON THE THIRD ACT OF Macbeth, I was listening for my truck. I would have thought I’d hear the engine’s roar even over the pounding rain. But when I went to look out the window again, it was suddenly there.
I wasn’t super excited to get up on Friday, and it more than lived up to my negative expectations. Of course there were all the fainting comments. Jeremy especially seemed to get a kick out of that stor
y. He laughed till he choked when Logan pretended to swoon at the lunch table. Luckily, McKayla had kept her mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edythe’s involvement. Jeremy did have a lot of questions about yesterday’s lunch, though.
“What did Edythe Cullen want?” he’d asked in Trig.
“Not sure.” It was the truth. “She never really got to the point.”
“She looked kind of mad.”
I’d shrugged. “Did she?”
“I’ve never seen her sit with anyone but her family before. That was weird.”
“Yeah, weird,” I’d agreed.
He’d seemed kind of irritated that I didn’t have better answers.
The worst part about Friday was that, even though I knew she wasn’t going to be there, I still hoped. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jeremy and McKayla, I couldn’t keep from looking at her table, where Royal, Archie, and Jessamine sat, talking with their heads close together. I wondered if Archie had been the one to drive my truck home last night, and what he thought about the chore.
At my normal table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. McKayla was animated again, putting a lot more trust in the local weatherman than I thought he deserved. I’d have to see his promised sun before I believed it. At least it was warmer today—almost sixty, though it was still wet. Maybe the trip wouldn’t be totally miserable.
I caught a few unfriendly glances from Logan during lunch, which I didn’t really understand. Just like everyone else, I’d laughed along with his fainting stunt. But I got some clarification as we walked out of the room. I guess he didn’t realize how close I was behind him.
He ran a hand over his slicked-back, silver-blond hair. “I don’t know why Beaufort”—he said my name with a sneer—“doesn’t just sit with the Cullens now,” I heard him mutter to McKayla. I’d never noticed before what a nasal voice he had, and I was surprised now by the malice in it. I really didn’t know him well, not well enough for him to dislike me—or so I would have thought.
“He’s my friend; he sits with us,” McKayla snapped back. Loyal, but also territorial. I paused to let Jeremy and Allen pass. I didn’t want to hear any more.
Later, at dinner, Charlie seemed excited about my trip to La Push in the morning. I guessed 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. And I never minded the alone time.
Life and Death Page 10
