There was a narrow trail that led through the woods here; it wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was thanks to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window a long time ago. There were lots I didn’t know, and others I couldn’t be sure about, because they were so covered in green parasites.
I followed the trail as long as my anger pushed me forward. As that started to fade, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn’t be sure if it was beginning to rain, or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, stored high in the leaves above, slowly dripping their way to the ground. A recently fallen tree—I knew it was recent because it wasn’t entirely carpeted in moss—rested against the trunk of another, creating a sheltered little bench just a few feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat down, leaning my hooded head back against the living tree.
This was the wrong place to go. I should have known, but where else was there? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last night’s dream to make me comfortable. Now that there was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood almost as high as my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not even see me.
Here in the trees it was much easier to believe the stupid words that embarrassed me indoors. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the old myths and legends seemed much more likely in this ancient green maze than they had in my mundane bedroom.
I forced myself to focus on the two most important questions I had to answer.
First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jules had said about the Cullens could be true.
Immediately, my mind responded with a loud and clear No. It was stupid to even consider the idea. These were silly stories. Just morbid old legends.
But what, then? I asked myself. There was no rational explanation for how I had survived the van. I listed again in my head the things I’d observed myself: the inhuman beauty, the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the pale, cold skin. And more—small things that registered slowly—how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. And the way she sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of the historical romances my mom loved than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. She had skipped class the day we’d done blood typing. She hadn’t said no to the beach trip till I told her where we were going. She seemed to know what everyone around her was thinking … except me. She’d told me she was the villain, dangerous… .
Could the Cullens be vampires?
Well, they were something. Something outside the boundaries of normal and sane was happening in this nothing little town. Whether it was Jules’s cold ones or my own superhero theory, Edythe Cullen was not … human. She was something more.
So then—maybe. That would have to be my answer for now.
And then the most important question of all. What was I going to do about it?
If Edythe was a vampire—I could barely make myself think the word—then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn’t even believe myself; anyone I tried to talk to about it would have me committed.
Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take her advice: to be smart, to avoid her as much as possible. To cancel our plans, and to go back to ignoring her as far as I was able. To pretend there was an impenetrable glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell her she was right, and then never talk to her again.
And it hurt—just the idea—more than it should. More than I felt I could stand. I switched gears, skipping on to the next option.
I could do nothing different. After all, if she was something … sinister, she’d done nothing too bad so far. In fact, I would be a dent in Taylor’s fender if she hadn’t acted so fast. So fast, I argued with myself, that it might have been sheer reflexes. But if it was a reflex to save lives, how bad could she be? My head spun in circular questions, no answers.
There was one thing I was sure of, if I was sure of anything. The black-gowned Edythe with the sharp teeth and nails was just the embodiment of the word Jules had said, and not the real Edythe. Even so, when I’d shouted in horror as the werewolf lunged, it wasn’t fear for the wolf that had me screaming No. It was terror that she would be hurt. Even while she was calling to me with sharp-edged fangs, I was afraid for her.
And I knew that in that I had my answer. I didn’t know if there ever was a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew—if I knew—what could I do about it? Because when I thought of her, of her voice, her hypnotic eyes, the magnetic way her body pulled mine toward her, all I wanted was to be with her right now. Even if … but I didn’t want to think the word again. Not here, in the silent forest. Not while the rain made it dark as dusk under the canopy and made noises like footsteps across the matted ground. I shivered and jumped up, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain.
But it was there, winding its way out of the dripping green gloom. I took longer strides now, and I was surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to see some open spaces through the branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was suddenly free, Charlie’s lawn under my feet.
It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, clean jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn’t take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft, more relaxed than I’d felt since … well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest.
That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I just followed through—relieved that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was mixed with despair, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives.
This decision was almost too easy to live with. Dangerously easy.
The rest of the day was quiet, productive—I finished my paper before eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. The spikes of adrenaline I felt whenever I thought of that trip were no different than the ones I’d felt before I’d taken my walk with Jules. They should be different, but I didn’t know how to make myself feel the right kind of fear.
I slept dreamlessly that night, beat from getting up so early. For the second time since arriving in Forks, I woke to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I staggered to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky. I opened the window—surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, though I hadn’t opened it in who knows how many years—and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm, and hardly windy at all. My blood drummed in my veins.
Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately.
“Nice day out,” he commented.
“Yeah,” I agreed with a grin.
He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When he smiled big like that, it was easier to imagine him as the man who had impulsively married a beautiful girl he barely knew when he was only three years older than I was now. There wasn’t much of that guy left. He’d faded over the years, like the curly brown hair had receded from his forehead.
I ate breakfast with a smile on my face, watching the dust mot
es stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I’d seen in months.
After a short battle, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn’t even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done, but there were a few Trig problems I wasn’t sure I had right. I took out my book, but halfway through rechecking the first problem my mind was wandering, watching the sunlight play on the red-barked trees. I sketched mindlessly along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I realized I’d drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring off the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser.
“Beau!” I heard someone call, and it sounded like McKayla. I looked around to see that the school had filled with kids while I’d been sitting here. Everyone was in tshirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn’t be over sixty. McKayla was coming toward me in a skirt that only reached the middle of her thighs and a tank top.
“Hey, McKayla,” I answered.
She came to sit with me, the sun shimmering off her freshly straightened hair, a grin stretching across her face. She was so happy to see me, I couldn’t help but feel responsive.
“Great day, isn’t it?”
“My kind of day,” I agreed.
“What did you do yesterday?” There was an annoying sense of ownership in her question, and it reminded me of what Jules had said on Saturday. People thought I was her boyfriend because that was what McKayla wanted them to think.
But I was in too good of a mood to let it get to me now. “I mostly worked on my essay.”
“Oh yeah—that’s due Thursday, right?”
“Um, Wednesday, I think.”
“Wednesday?” Her smile disappeared. “That’s not good. I guess I’ll have to get to work on that tonight.” She frowned. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go out.”
“Oh.” I was thrown. Why couldn’t I ever have a conversation with McKayla anymore without it getting awkward?
“Well, we still could go to dinner or something … and I could work on it later.” She smiled at me hopefully.
“McKayla …” Here comes the guilt, I thought. “I don’t think that would be the best idea.”
Her face fell. “Why?” she asked, her eyes guarded. My thoughts flashed to Edythe, and I wondered if McKayla was thinking the same thing.
“Look, I’m breaking all kinds of man codes telling you this, so don’t rat me out, okay?”
“Man codes?” she repeated, mystified.
“Jeremy’s my friend, and if I went out with you, well, it would upset him.”
She stared at me.
“I never said any of this, okay? It’s your word against mine.”
“Jeremy?” she asked, her voice blank with surprise.
“Seriously, are you blind?”
“Oh,” she exhaled—looking dazed. Time to escape.
I stuffed the book in my bag. “I don’t want to be late again. I’m already on Mason’s list.”
We walked in silence to building three, her expression distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts she was immersed in were leading her in the right direction.
When I saw Jeremy in Trig, he was just as fired up by the sunny day as I was. He, Allen, and Logan were headed into Port Angeles to catch a movie and order corsages for the dance, and I was invited. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town, but Logan would be there. And who knew what I might be doing tonight… . But that was definitely the wrong thing to think about. Of course I was happy to see the sun again. But that wasn’t totally responsible for the mood I was in, not even close.
So I gave him a maybe, lying about homework I had to catch up on.
Finally we were on our way to lunch. I was so anxious to see not just Edythe, but all the Cullens, that it was almost painful. I had to compare them with the suspicions that were haunting me. Maybe, when we were all together in one room, I would be able to feel sure that I was wrong, that there was nothing sinister about them. As I walked through the doors into the cafeteria, I felt the first tremor of actual fear roll through my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling hit my stomach—would Edythe be waiting for me again?
As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens’ table. I felt a small rush of panic when I saw that it was empty. With fading hope, I scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find her there alone. The place was nearly filled—Spanish had run over—but there was no sign of Edythe or any of her family. Just like that, my good mood was reversed.
We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I vaguely noticed that McKayla had saved a seat for Jeremy, and that his face lit up in response.
Allen asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while my mood was spiraling lower and lower. He invited me to go with them tonight, too, and I agreed now, looking for any distraction.
What if, somehow, Edythe knew what I’d done this weekend? What if digging deeper into her secrets had triggered her disappearance? What if I’d done this to myself?
I realized I’d been holding on to a little bit of hope when I walked into Biology, saw her empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment.
The rest of the day dragged. I couldn’t follow the discussion in Biology, and I didn’t even try to keep up with Coach Clapp’s lecture on the rules of badminton. I was glad to finally leave campus, so I could stop pretending I was fine until it was time to go to Port Angeles. But right after I walked through my front door, the phone rang. It was Jeremy, canceling our plans. I tried to sound glad that McKayla had asked him to dinner, but I think I sounded irritated. The movie got rescheduled to Tuesday.
Which left me with no distractions. I put some fish in a marinade and then finished up my new homework, but that only took a half hour. I checked my e-mail and realized I’d been ignoring my mom. She wasn’t happy about it.
Mom,
Sorry. I’ve been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to write a paper.
My excuses were pretty pathetic, so I gave up on that.
It’s sunny outside today—I know, I’m shocked, too—so I’m going to go outside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can. Love you, Beau.
I had a small collection of my favorite books that I’d brought to Forks, and now I grabbed Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, plus an old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs.
Outside, I threw the quilt into the middle of the sunniest spot in Charlie’s small square yard, then threw myself on top of it. I flipped through the paperback, waiting for a word or phrase to catch my interest—usually a giant squid or narwhal would be adequate—but today I went through the book twice without finding anything intriguing enough to start me reading. I snapped the book shut. Fine, whatever. I’d get a sunburn instead. I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes.
I tried to reason with myself. There was no need to freak out. Edythe had said she was going camping. Maybe the others had been planning to join her all along. Maybe they’d all decided to stay an extra day because the weather was so nice. Missing a few days wasn’t going to affect any of her perfect grades. I could relax. I would see her again tomorrow for sure.
Even if she, or one of the others, could know what I was thinking, it was hardly a reason for skipping town. I didn’t believe any of it myself, and it wasn’t like I was going to say anything to someone else. It was stupid. I knew the whole idea was completely ridiculous. Obviously, there was no reason for anyone—vampire or not—to overreact.
It was just as ridiculo
us to imagine that someone could read my mind. I needed to stop being so paranoid. Edythe would be back tomorrow. No one had ever found neuroticism attractive, and I doubted she would be the first.
Mellow. Relaxed. Normal. I could handle that. Just breathe in and out.
The next thing I was aware of was the sound of Charlie’s car turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up, surprised that the light was gone and I was deep in the shadow of the trees now. I must have fallen asleep. I looked around, still half out of it, with the sudden feeling that I wasn’t alone.
“Charlie?” I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.
I jumped up, feeling edgy and also stupid for feeling that way, and grabbed the quilt and my book. I hurried inside to get some oil heating on the stove; thanks to my nap, dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in.
“Sorry, dinner’s not ready yet—I fell asleep outside.” I yawned hugely.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I wanted to catch the score on the game anyway.”
I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn’t anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn’t care about baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my idiotic depression, to make him happy.
“FYI, Dad,” I said during a commercial, “I’m going to a movie with some of the guys from school tomorrow night, so you’ll be on your own.”
“Anyone I know?” he asked.
Who didn’t he know here? “Jeremy Stanley, Allen Weber, and Logan whatever-his-last-name-is.”
“Mallory,” he told me.
“If you say so.”
“Fine, but it’s a school night, so don’t go crazy.”
Life and Death Page 13
