I leaned back against the soft snow bank, letting the dry powder reshape itself around myweight. My skin had cooled to match the air around me, and the tiny pieces of ice feltlike velvet under my skin.

　　The sky above me was clear, brilliant with stars, glowing blue in some places,yellow in others. The stars created majestic, swirling shapes against the black universe—an awesome sight. Exquisitely beautiful. Or rather, it should have been exquisite.

　　Would have been, if I’d been able to really see it.

　　It wasn’t getting any better. Six days had passed, six days I’d hidden here in theempty Denali wilderness, but I was no closer to freedom than I had been since the firstmoment that I’d caught her scent.

　　When I stared up at the jeweled sky, it was as if there were an obstructionbetween my eyes and their beauty. The obstruction was a face, just an unremarkablehuman face, but I couldn’t quite seem to banish it from my mind.

　　I heard the approaching thoughts before I heard the footsteps that accompaniedthem. The sound of movement was only a faint whisper against the powder.

　　I was not surprised that Tanya had followed me here. I knew she’d been mullingover this coming conversation for the last few days, putting it off until she was sure ofexactly what she wanted to say.

　　She sprang into sight about sixty yards away, leaping onto the tip of anoutcropping of black rock and balancing there on the balls of her bare feet.

　　Tanya’s skin was silver in the starlight, and her long blond curls shone pale,almost pink with their strawberry tint. Her amber eyes glinted as she spied me, half-buried in the snow, and her full lips stretched slowly into a smile.

　　Exquisite. If I’d really been able to see her. I sighed.

　　She crouched down on the point of the stone, her fingertips touching the rock, herbody coiled.

　　Cannonball, she thought.

　　  She launched herself into the air; her shape became a dark, twisting shadow as shespun gracefully between me and the stars. She curled herself into a ball just as she struckthe piled snow bank beside me.

　　A blizzard of snow flew up around me. The stars went black and I was burieddeep in the feathery ice crystals.

　　I sighed again, but didn’t move to unearth myself. The blackness under the snowneither hurt nor improved the view. I still saw the same face.

　　“Edward?”

　　Then snow was flying again as Tanya swiftly disinterred me. She brushed thepowder from my unmoving face, not quite meeting my eyes.

　　“Sorry,” she murmured. “It was a joke.”

　　“I know. It was funny.”

　　Her mouth twisted down.

　　“Irina and Kate said I should leave you alone. They think I’m annoying you.”

　　“Not at all,” I assured her. “On the contrary, I’m the one who’s being rude—abominably rude. I’m very sorry.”

　　You’re going home, aren’t you? she thought.

　　“I haven’t…entirely…decided that yet.”

　　But you’re not staying here. Her thought was wistful now, sad.

　　“No. It doesn’t seem to be…helping.”

　　She grimaced. “That’s my fault, isn’t it?”

　　“Of course not,” I lied smoothly.

　　Don’t be a gentleman.

　　I smiled.

　　I make you uncomfortable, she accused.

　　“No.”

　　She raised one eyebrow, her expression so disbelieving that I had to laugh. Oneshort laugh, followed by another sigh.

　　“All right,” I admitted. “A little bit.”

　　She sighed, too, and put her chin in her hands. Her thoughts were chagrined.

　　  “You’re a thousand times lovelier than the stars, Tanya. Of course, you’realready well aware of that. Don’t let my stubbornness undermine your confidence.” Ichuckled at the unlikeliness of that.

　　“I’m not used to rejection,” she grumbled, her lower lip pushing out into anattractive pout.

　　“Certainly not,” I agreed, trying with little success to block out her thoughts asshe fleetingly sifted through memories of her thousands of successful conquests. MostlyTanya preferred human men—they were much more populous for one thing, with theadded advantage of being soft and warm. And always eager, definitely.

　　“Succubus,” I teased, hoping to interrupt the images flickering in her head.

　　She grinned, flashing her teeth. “The original.”

　　Unlike Carlisle, Tanya and her sisters had discovered their consciences slowly. Inthe end, it was their fondness for human men that turned the sisters against the slaughter.

　　Now the men they loved…lived.

　　“When you showed up here,” Tanya said slowly. “I thought that…”

　　I’d known what she’d thought. And I should have guessed that she would havefelt that way. But I hadn’t been at my best for analytical thinking in that moment.

　　“You thought that I’d changed my mind.”

　　“Yes.” She scowled.

　　“I feel horrible for toying with your expectations, Tanya. I didn’t mean to—Iwasn’t thinking. It’s just that I left in…quite a hurry.”

　　“I don’t suppose you’d tell me why…?”

　　I sat up and wrapped my arms around my legs, curling defensively. “I don’t wantto talk about it.”

　　Tanya, Irina and Kate were very good at this life they’d committed to. Better, insome ways, than even Carlisle. Despite the insanely close proximity they allowedthemselves with those who should be—and once were—their prey, they did not makemistakes. I was too ashamed to admit my weakness to Tanya.

　　“Woman troubles?” she guessed, ignoring my reluctance.

　　  I laughed a bleak laugh. “Not the way you mean it.”

　　She was quiet then. I listened to her thoughts as she ran through differentguesses, tried to decipher the meaning of my words.

　　“You’re not even close,” I told her.

　　“One hint?” she asked.

　　“Please let it go, Tanya.”

　　She was quiet again, still speculating. I ignored her, trying in vain to appreciatethe stars.

　　She gave up after a silent moment, and her thoughts pursued a new direction.

　　Where will you go, Edward, if you leave? Back to Carlisle?

　　“I don’t think so,” I whispered.

　　Where would I go? I could not think of one place on the entire planet that heldany interest for me. There was nothing I wanted to see or do. Because, no matter where Iwent, I would not be going to anywhere—I would only be running from.

　　I hated that. When had I become such a coward?

　　Tanya threw her slender arm around my shoulders. I stiffened, but did not flinchout from under her touch. She meant it as nothing more than friendly comfort. Mostly.

　　“I think that you will go back,” she said, her voice taking on just a hint of her longlost Russian accent. “No matter what it is…or who it is...that is haunting you. You’llface it head on. You’re the type.”

　　Her thoughts were as certain as her words. I tried to embrace the vision of myselfthat she carried in her head. The one who faced things head on. It was pleasant to thinkof myself that way again. I’d never doubted my courage, my ability to face difficulty,before that horrible hour in a high school biology class such a short time ago.

　　I kissed her cheek, pulling back swiftly when she twisted her face toward mine,her lips already puckered. She smiled ruefully at my quickness.

　　“Thank you, Tanya. I needed to hear that.”

　　Her thoughts turned petulant. “You’re welcome, I guess. I wish you would bemore reasonable about things, Edward.”

　　“I’m sorry, Tanya. You know you’re too good for me. I just…haven’t foundwhat I’m looking for yet.”

　　  “Well, if you leave before I see you again…goodbye, Edward.”

　　“Goodbye, Tanya.” As I said the words, I could see it. I could see myselfleaving. Being strong enough to go back to the one place where I wanted to be. “Thanksagain.”

　　She was on her feet in one nimble move, and then she was running away,ghosting across the snow so quickly that her feet had no time to sink into the snow; sheleft no prints behind her. She didn’t look back. My rejection bothered her more thanshe’d let on before, even in her thoughts. She wouldn’t want to see me again before Ileft.

　　My mouth twisted with chagrin. I didn’t like hurting Tanya, though her feelingswere not deep, hardly pure, and, in any case, not something I could return. It still mademe feel less than a gentleman.

　　I put my chin on my knees and stared up at the stars again, though I was suddenlyanxious to be on my way. I knew that Alice would see me coming home, that she wouldtell the others. This would make them happy—Carlisle and Esme especially. But I gazedat the stars for one more moment, trying to see past the face in my head. Between meand the brilliant lights in the sky, a pair of bewildered chocolate-brown eyes stared backat me, seeming to ask what this decision would mean for her. Of course, I couldn’t besure if that was really the information her curious eyes sought. Even in my imagination, Icouldn’t hear her thoughts. Bella Swan’s eyes continued to question, and anunobstructed view of the stars continued to elude me. With a heavy sigh, I gave up, andgot to my feet. If I ran, I would be back to Carlisle’s car in less than an hour…In a hurry to see my family—and wanting very much to be the Edward that facedthings head on—I raced across the starlit snowfield, leaving no footprints.

　　“It’s going to be okay,” Alice breathed. Her eyes were unfocused, and Jasper had onehand lightly under her elbow, guiding her forward as we walked into the rundowncafeteria in a close group. Rosalie and Emmett led the way, Emmett looking ridiculously  like a bodyguard in the middle of hostile territory. Rose looked wary, too, but muchmore irritated than protective.

　　“Of course it is,” I grumbled. Their behavior was ludicrous. If I wasn’t positivethat I could handle this moment, I would have stayed home.

　　The sudden shift from our normal, even playful morning—it had snowed in thenight, and Emmett and Jasper were not above taking advantage of my distraction tobombard me with slushballs; when they got bored with my lack of response, they’dturned on each other—to this overdone vigilance would have been comical if it weren’tso irritating.

　　“She’s not here yet, but the way she’s going to come in…she won’t be downwindif we sit in our regular spot.”

　　“Of course we’ll sit in our regular spot. Stop it, Alice. You’re getting on mynerves. I’ll be absolutely fine.”

　　She blinked once as Jasper helped her into her seat, and her eyes finally focusedon my face.

　　“Hmm,” she said, sounding surprised. “I think you’re right.”

　　“Of course I am,” I muttered.

　　I hated being the focus of their concern. I felt a sudden sympathy for Jasper,remembering all the times we’d hovered protectively over him. He met my glancebriefly, and grinned.

　　Annoying, isn’t it?

　　I grimaced at him.

　　Was it just last week that this long, drab room had seemed so killingly dull to me?

　　That it had seemed almost like sleep, like a coma, to be here?

　　Today my nerves were stretched tight—piano wires, tensed to sing at the lightestpressure. My senses were hyper-alert; I scanned every sound, every sight, everymovement of the air that touched my skin, every thought. Especially the thoughts. Therewas only one sense that I kept locked down, refused to use. Smell, of course. I didn’tbreathe.

　　I was expecting to hear more about the Cullens in the thoughts that I siftedthrough. All day I’d been waiting, searching for whichever new acquaintance Bella Swan might have confided in, trying to see the direction the new gossip would take. Butthere was nothing. No one noticed the five vampires in the cafeteria, just the same asbefore the new girl had come. Several of the humans here were still thinking of that girl,still thinking the same thoughts from last week. Instead of finding this unutterablyboring, I was now fascinated.

　　Had she said nothing to anyone about me?

　　There was no way that she had not noticed my black, murderous glare. I had seenher react to it. Surely, I’d scared her silly. I had been convinced that she would havementioned it to someone, maybe even exaggerated the story a bit to make it better. Givenme a few menacing lines.

　　And then, she’d also heard me trying to get out of our shared biology class. Shemust have wondered, after seeing my expression, whether she were the cause. A normalgirl would have asked around, compared her experience to others, looked for commonground that would explain my behavior so she didn’t feel singled out. Humans wereconstantly desperate to feel normal, to fit in. To blend in with everyone else aroundthem, like a featureless flock of sheep. The need was particularly strong during theinsecure adolescent years. This girl would be no exception to that rule.

　　But no one at all took any notice of us sitting here, at our normal table. Bellamust be exceptionally shy, if she’d confided in no one. Perhaps she had spoken to herfather, maybe that was the strongest relationship…though that seemed unlikely, given thefact that she had spent so little time with him throughout her life. She would be closer toher mother. Still, I would have to pass by Chief Swan sometime soon and listen to whathe was thinking.

　　“Anything new?” Jasper asked.

　　“Nothing. She…must not have said anything.”

　　All of them raised an eyebrow at this news.

　　“Maybe you’re not as scary as you think you are,” Emmett said, chuckling. “I betI could have frightened her better than that.”

　　I rolled my eyes at him.

　　“Wonder why…?” He puzzled again over my revelation about the girl’s uniquesilence.

　　  “We’ve been over that. I don’t know.”

　　“She’s coming in,” Alice murmured then. I felt my body go rigid. “Try to lookhuman.”

　　“Human, you say?” Emmett asked.

　　He held up his right fist, twisting his fingers to reveal the snowball he’d saved inhis palm. Of course it had not melted there. He’d squeezed it into a lumpy block of ice.

　　He had his eyes on Jasper, but I saw the direction of his thoughts. So did Alice, ofcourse. When he abruptly hurled the ice chunk at her, she flicked it away with a casualflutter of her fingers. The ice ricocheted across the length of the cafeteria, too fast to bevisible to human eyes, and shattered with a sharp crack against the brick wall. The brickcracked, too.

　　The heads in that corner of the room all turned to stare at the pile of broken ice onthe floor, and then swiveled to find the culprit. They didn’t look further than a few tablesaway. No one looked at us.

　　“Very human, Emmett,” Rosalie said scathingly. “Why don’t you punch throughthe wall while you’re at it?”

　　“It would look more impressive if you did it, baby.”

　　I tried to pay attention to them, keeping a grin fixed on my face like I was part oftheir banter. I did not allow myself to look toward the line where I knew she wasstanding. But that was all that I was listening to.

　　I could hear Jessica’s impatience with the new girl, who seemed to be distracted,too, standing motionless in the moving line. I saw, in Jessica’s thoughts, that BellaSwan’s cheeks were once more colored bright pink with blood.

　　I pulled in short, shallow breaths, ready to quit breathing if any hint of her scenttouched the air near me.

　　Mike Newton was with the two girls. I heard both his voices, mental and verbal,when he asked Jessica what was wrong with the Swan girl. I didn’t like the way histhoughts wrapped around her, the flicker of already established fantasies that clouded hismind while he watched her start and look up from her reverie like she’d forgotten he wasthere.

　　  “Nothing,” I heard Bella say in that quiet, clear voice. It seemed to ring like a bellover the babble in the cafeteria, but I knew that was just because I was listening for it sointently.

　　“I’ll just get a soda today,” she continued as she moved to catch up with the line.

　　I couldn’t help flickering one glance in her direction. She was staring at the floor,the blood slowly fading from her face. I looked away quickly, to Emmett, who laughedat the now pained-looking smile on my face.

　　You look sick, bro.

　　I rearranged my features so the expression would seem casual and effortless.

　　Jessica was wondering aloud about the girl’s lack of appetite. “Aren’t youhungry?”

　　“Actually, I feel a little sick.” Her voice was lower, but still very clear.

　　Why did it bother me, the protective concern that suddenly emanated from MikeNewton’s thoughts? What did it matter that there was a possessive edge to them? Itwasn’t my business if Mike Newton felt unnecessarily anxious for her. Perhaps this wasthe way everyone responded to her. Hadn’t I wanted, instinctively, to protect her, too?

　　Before I’d wanted to kill her, that is…But was the girl ill?

　　It was hard to judge—she looked so delicate with her translucent skin… Then Irealized that I was worrying, too, just like that dimwitted boy, and I forced myself not tothink about her health.

　　Regardless, I didn’t like monitoring her through Mike’s thoughts. I switched toJessica’s, watching carefully as the three of them chose which table to sit at. Fortunately,they sat with Jessica’s usual companions, at one of the first tables in the room. Notdownwind, just as Alice had promised.

　　Alice elbowed me. She’s going to look soon, act human.

　　I clenched my teeth behind my grin.

　　“Ease up, Edward,” Emmett said. “Honestly. So you kill one human. That’shardly the end of the world.”

　　“You would know,” I murmured.

　　  Emmett laughed. “You’ve got to learn to get over things. Like I do. Eternity is along time to wallow in guilt.”

　　Just then, Alice tossed a smaller handful of ice that she’d been hiding intoEmmett’s unsuspecting face.

　　He blinked, surprised, and then grinned in anticipation.

　　“You asked for it,” he said as he leaned across the table and shook his ice-encrusted hair in her direction. The snow, melting in the warm room, flew out from hishair in a thick shower of half-liquid, half-ice.

　　“Ew!” Rose complained, as she and Alice recoiled from the deluge.

　　Alice laughed, and we all joined in. I could see in Alice’s head how she’dorchestrated this perfect moment, and I knew that the girl—I should stop thinking of herthat way, as if she were the only girl in the world—that Bella would be watching us laughand play, looking as happy and human and unrealistically ideal as a Norman Rockwellpainting.

　　Alice kept laughing, and held her tray up as a shield. The girl—Bella must still bestaring at us.

　　…staring at the Cullens again, someone thought, catching my attention.

　　I looked automatically toward the unintentional call, realizing as my eyes foundtheir destination that I recognized the voice—I’d been listening to it so much today.

　　But my eyes slid right past Jessica, and focused on the girl’s penetrating gaze.

　　She looked down quickly, hiding behind her thick hair again.

　　What was she thinking? The frustration seemed to be getting more acute as timewent on, rather than dulling. I tried—uncertain in what I was doing for I’d never triedthis before—to probe with my mind at the silence around her. My extra hearing hadalways come to me naturally, without asking; I’d never had to work at it. But Iconcentrated now, trying to break through whatever shield surrounded her.

　　Nothing but silence.

　　What is it about her? Jessica thought, echoing my own frustration.

　　“Edward Cullen is staring at you,” she whispered in the Swan girl’s ear, adding agiggle. There was no hint of her jealous irritation in her tone. Jessica seemed to beskilled at feigning friendship.

　　  I listened, too engrossed, to the girl’s response.

　　“He doesn’t look angry, does he?” she whispered back.

　　So she had noticed my wild reaction last week. Of course she had.

　　The question confused Jessica. I saw my own face in her thoughts as she checkedmy expression, but I did not meet her glance. I was still concentrating on the girl, tryingto hear something. My intent focus didn’t seem to be helping at all.

　　“No,” Jess told her, and I knew that she wished she could say yes—how it rankledinside her, my staring—though there was no trace of that in her voice. “Should he be?”

　　“I don’t think he likes me,” the girl whispered back, laying her head down on herarm as if she were suddenly tired. I tried to understand the motion, but I could only makeguesses. Maybe she was tired.

　　“The Cullens don’t like anybody,” Jess reassured her. “Well, they don’t noticeanybody enough to like them.” They never used to. Her thought was a grumble ofcomplaint. “But he’s still staring at you.”

　　“Stop looking at him,” the girl said anxiously, lifting her head from her arm tomake sure Jessica obeyed the order.

　　Jessica giggled, but did as she was asked.

　　The girl did not look away from her table for the rest of the hour. I thought—though, of course, I could not be sure—that this was deliberate. It seemed like shewanted to look at me. Her body would shift slightly in my direction, her chin wouldbegin to turn, and then she would catch herself, take a deep breath, and stare fixedly atwhoever was speaking.

　　I ignored the other thoughts around the girl for the most part, as they were not,momentarily, about her. Mike Newton was planning a snow fight in the parking lot afterschool, not seeming to realize that the snow had already shifted to rain. The flutter ofsoft flakes against the roof had become the more common patter of raindrops. Could hereally not hear the change? It seemed loud to me.

　　When the lunch period ended, I stayed in my seat. The humans filed out, and Icaught myself trying to distinguish the sound of her footsteps from the sound of the rest,as if there was something important or unusual about them. How stupid.

　　My family made no move to leave, either. They waited to see what I would do.

　　  Would I go to class, sit beside the girl where I could smell the absurdly potentscent of her blood and feel the warmth of her pulse in the air on my skin? Was I strongenough for that? Or had I had enough for one day?

　　“I…think it’s okay,” Alice said, hesitant. “Your mind is set. I think you’ll makeit through the hour.”

　　But Alice knew well how quickly a mind could change.

　　“Why push it, Edward?” Jasper asked. Though he didn’t want to feel smug that Iwas the one who was weak now, I could hear that he did, just a little. “Go home. Take itslow.”

　　“What’s the big deal?” Emmett disagreed. “Either he will or he won’t kill her.

　　Might as well get it over with, either way.”

　　“I don’t want to move yet,” Rosalie complained. “I don’t want to start over.

　　We’re almost out of high school, Emmett. Finally.”

　　I was evenly torn on the decision. I wanted, wanted badly, to face this head onrather than running away again. But I didn’t want to push myself too far, either. It hadbeen a mistake last week for Jasper to go so long without hunting; was this just aspointless a mistake?

　　I didn’t want to uproot my family. None of them would thank me for that.

　　But I wanted to go to my biology class. I realized that I wanted to see her faceagain.

　　That’s what decided it for me. That curiosity. I was angry with myself for feelingit. Hadn’t I promised myself that I wouldn’t let the silence of the girl’s mind make meunduly interested in her? And yet, here I was, most unduly interested.

　　I wanted to know what she was thinking. Her mind was closed, but her eyes werevery open. Perhaps I could read them instead.

　　“No, Rose, I think it really will be okay,” Alice said. “It’s…firming up. I’mninety-three percent sure that nothing bad will happen if he goes to class.” She looked atme inquisitively, wondering what had changed in my thoughts that made her vision of thefuture more secure.

　　Would curiosity be enough to keep Bella Swan alive?

　　  Emmett was right, though—why not get it over with, either way? I would facethe temptation head on.

　　“Go to class,” I ordered, pushing away from the table. I turned and strode awayfrom them without looking back. I could hear Alice’s worry, Jasper’s censure, Emmett’sapproval, and Rosalie’s irritation trailing after me.

　　I took one last deep breath at the door of the classroom, and then held it in mylungs as I walked into the small, warm space.

　　I was not late. Mr. Banner was still setting up for today’s lab. The girl sat atmy—at our table, her face down again, staring at the folder she was doodling on. Iexamined the sketch as I approached, interested in even this trivial creation of her mind,but it was meaningless. Just a random scribbling of loops within loops. Perhaps she wasnot concentrating on the pattern, but thinking of something else?

　　I pulled my chair back with unnecessary roughness, letting it scrape across thelinoleum; humans always felt more comfortable when noise announced someone’sapproach.

　　I knew she heard the sound; she did not look up, but her hand missed a loop in thedesign she was drawing, making it unbalanced.

　　Why didn’t she look up? Probably she was frightened. I must be sure to leaveher with a different impression this time. Make her think she’d been imagining thingsbefore.

　　“Hello,” I said in the quiet voice I used when I wanted to make humans morecomfortable, forming a polite smile with my lips that would not show any teeth.

　　She looked up then, her wide brown eyes startled—almost bewildered—and fullof silent questions. It was the same expression that had been obstructing my vision forthe last week.

　　As I stared into those oddly deep brown eyes, I realized that the hate—the hate I’dimagined this girl somehow deserved for simply existing—had evaporated. Notbreathing now, not tasting her scent, it was hard to believe that anyone so vulnerablecould ever justify hatred.

　　Her cheeks began to flush, and she said nothing.

　　  I kept my eyes on hers, focusing only on their questioning depths, and tried toignore the appetizing color of her skin. I had enough breath to speak for a while longerwithout inhaling.

　　“My name is Edward Cullen,” I said, though I knew she knew that. It was thepolite way to begin. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must beBella Swan.”

　　She seemed confused—there was that little pucker between her eyes again. Ittook her half a second longer than it should have for her to respond.

　　“How do you know my name?” she demanded, and her voice shook just a little.

　　I must have truly terrified her. This made me feel guilty; she was just sodefenseless. I laughed gently—it was a sound that I knew made humans more at ease.

　　Again, I was careful about my teeth.

　　“Oh, I think everyone knows your name.” Surely she must have realized thatshe’d become the center of attention in this monotonous place. “The whole town’s beenwaiting for you to arrive.”

　　She frowned as if this information was unpleasant. I supposed, being shy as sheseemed to be, attention would seem like a bad thing to her. Most humans felt theopposite. Though they didn’t want to stand out from the herd, at the same time theycraved a spotlight for their individual uniformity.

　　“No,” she said. “I meant, why did you call me Bella?”

　　“Do you prefer Isabella?” I asked, perplexed by the fact that I couldn’t see wherethis question was leading. I didn’t understand. Surely, she’d made her preference clearmany times that first day. Were all humans this incomprehensible without the mentalcontext as a guide?

　　“No, I like Bella,” she answered, leaning her head slightly to one side. Herexpression—if I was reading it correctly—was torn between embarrassment andconfusion. “But I think Charlie—I mean my dad—must call me Isabella behind my back.

　　That’s what everyone here seems to know me as.” Her skin darkened one shade pinker.

　　“Oh,” I said lamely, and quickly looked away from her face.

　　  I’d just realized what her questions meant: I had slipped up—made an error. If Ihadn’t been eavesdropping on all the others that first day, then I would have addressedher initially by her full name, just like everyone else. She’d noticed the difference.

　　I felt a pang of unease. It was very quick of her to pick up on my slip. Quiteastute, especially for someone who was supposed to be terrified by my nearness.

　　But I had bigger problems than whatever suspicions about me she might bekeeping locked inside her head.

　　I was out of air. If I were going to speak to her again, I would have to inhale.

　　It would be hard to avoid speaking. Unfortunately for her, sharing this table madeher my lab partner, and we would have to work together today. It would seem odd—andincomprehensibly rude—for me to ignore her while we did the lab. It would make hermore suspicious, more afraid…I leaned as far away from her as I could without moving my seat, twisting myhead out into the aisle. I braced myself, locking my muscles in place, and then sucked inone quick chest-full of air, breathing through my mouth alone.

　　Ahh!

　　It was genuinely painful. Even without smelling her, I could taste her on mytongue. My throat was suddenly in flames again, the craving every bit as strong as thatfirst moment I’d caught her scent last week.

　　I gritted my teeth together and tried to compose myself.

　　“Get started,” Mr. Banner commanded.

　　It felt like it took every single ounce of self-control that I’d achieved in seventyyears of hard work to turn back to the girl, who was staring down at the table, and smile.

　　“Ladies first, partner?” I offered.

　　She looked up at my expression and her face went blank, her eyes wide. Wasthere something off in my expression? Was she frightened again? She didn’t speak.

　　“Or, I could start, if you wish,” I said quietly.

　　“No,” she said, and her face went from white to red again. “I’ll go first.”

　　I stared at the equipment on the table, the battered microscope, the box of slides,rather than watch the blood swirl under her clear skin. I took another quick breath,through my teeth, and winced as the taste made my throat ache.

　　  “Prophase,” she said after a quick examination. She started to remove the slide,though she’d barely examined it.

　　“Do you mind if I look?” Instinctively—stupidly, as if I were one of her kind—Ireached out to stop her hand from removing the slide. For one second, the heat of herskin burned into mine. It was like an electric pulse—surely much hotter than a mereninety-eight point six degrees. The heat shot through my hand and up my arm. Sheyanked her hand out from under mine.

　　“I’m sorry,” I muttered through my clenched teeth. Needing somewhere to look, Igrasped the microscope and stared briefly into the eyepiece. She was right.

　　“Prophase,” I agreed.

　　I was still too unsettled to look at her. Breathing as quietly as I could through mygritted teeth and trying to ignore the fiery thirst, I concentrated on the simple assignment,writing the word on the appropriate line on the lab sheet, and then switching out the firstslide for the next.

　　What was she thinking now? What had that felt like to her, when I had touchedher hand? My skin must have been ice cold—repulsive. No wonder she was so quiet.

　　I glanced at the slide.

　　“Anaphase,” I said to myself as I wrote it on the second line.

　　“May I?” she asked.

　　I looked up at her, surprised to see that she was waiting expectantly, one handhalf-stretched toward the microscope. She didn’t look afraid. Did she really think I’dgotten the answer wrong?

　　I couldn’t help but smile at the hopeful look on her face as I slid the microscopetoward her.

　　She stared into the eyepiece with an eagerness that quickly faded. The corners ofher mouth turned down.

　　“Slide three?” she asked, not looking up from the microscope, but holding out herhand. I dropped the next slide into her hand, not letting my skin come anywhere close tohers this time. Sitting beside her was like sitting next to a heat lamp. I could feel myselfwarming slightly to the higher temperature.

　　  She did not look at the slide for long. “Interphase,” she said nonchalantly—perhaps trying a little too hard to sound that way—and pushed the microscope to me.

　　She did not touch the paper, but waited for me to write the answer. I checked—she wascorrect again.

　　We finished this way, speaking one word at a time and never meeting each other’seyes. We were the only ones done—the others in the class were having a harder timewith the lab. Mike Newton seemed to be having trouble concentrating—he was trying towatch Bella and me.

　　Wish he’d stayed wherever he went, Mike thought, eyeing me sulfurously. Hmm,interesting. I hadn’t realized the boy harbored any ill will towards me. This was a newdevelopment, about as recent as the girl’s arrival it seemed. Even more interesting, Ifound—to my surprise—that the feeling was mutual.

　　I looked down at the girl again, bemused by the wide range of havoc and upheavalthat, despite her ordinary, unthreatening appearance, she was wreaking on my life.

　　It wasn’t that I couldn’t see what Mike was going on about. She was actuallyrather pretty…in an unusual way. Better than being beautiful, her face was interesting.

　　Not quite symmetrical—her narrow chin out of balance with her wide cheekbones;extreme in the coloring—the light and dark contrast of her skin and her hair; and thenthere were the eyes, brimming over with silent secrets…Eyes that were suddenly boring into mine.

　　I stared back at her, trying to guess even one of those secrets.

　　“Did you get contacts?” she asked abruptly.

　　What a strange question. “No.” I almost smiled at the idea of improving myeyesight.

　　“Oh,” she mumbled. “I thought there was something different about your eyes.”

　　I felt suddenly colder again as I realized that I was apparently not the only oneattempting to ferret out secrets today.

　　I shrugged, my shoulders stiff, and glared straight ahead to where the teacher wasmaking his rounds.

　　Of course there was something different about my eyes since the last time she’dstared into them. To prepare myself for today’s ordeal, today’s temptation, I’d spent the  entire weekend hunting, satiating my thirst as much as possible, overdoing it really. I’dglutted myself on the blood of animals, not that it made much difference in the face of theoutrageous flavor floating on the air around her. When I’d glared at her last, my eyes hadbeen black with thirst. Now, my body swimming with blood, my eyes were a warmergold. Light amber from my excessive attempt at thirst-quenching.

　　Another slip. If I’d seen what she’d meant with her question, I could have justtold her yes.

　　I’d sat beside humans for two years now at this school, and she was the first toexamine me closely enough to note the change in my eye color. The others, whileadmiring the beauty of my family, tended to look down quickly when we returned theirstares. They shied away, blocking the details of our appearances in an instinctiveendeavor to keep themselves from understanding. Ignorance was bliss to the humanmind.

　　Why did it have to be this girl who would see too much?

　　Mr. Banner approached our table. I gratefully inhaled the gush of clean air hebrought with him before it could mix with her scent.

　　“So, Edward,” he said, looking over our answers, “didn’t you think Isabellashould get a chance with the microscope?”

　　“Bella,” I corrected him reflexively. “Actually, she identified three of the five.”

　　Mr. Banner’s thoughts were skeptical as he turned to look at the girl. “Have youdone this lab before?”

　　I watched, engrossed, as she smiled, looking slightly embarrassed.

　　“Not with onion root.”

　　“Whitefish blastula?” Mr. Banner probed.

　　“Yeah.”

　　This surprised him. Today’s lab was something he’d pulled from a moreadvanced course. He nodded thoughtfully at the girl. “Were you in an advancedplacement program in Phoenix?”

　　“Yes.”

　　She was advanced then, intelligent for a human. This did not surprise me.

　　  “Well,” Mr. Banner said, pursing his lips. “I guess it’s good you two are labpartners.” He turned and walked away mumbling, “So the other kids can get a chance tolearn something for themselves,” under his breath. I doubted the girl could hear that.

　　She began scrawling loops across her folder again.

　　Two slips so far in one half hour. A very poor showing on my part. Though I hadno idea at all what the girl thought of me—how much did she fear, how much did shesuspect?—I knew I needed to put forth a better effort to leave her with a new impressionof me. Something to better drown her memories of our ferocious last encounter.

　　“It’s too bad about the snow, isn’t it?” I said, repeating the small talk that I’dheard a dozen students discuss already. A boring, standard topic of conversation. Theweather—always safe.

　　She stared at me with obvious doubt in her eyes—an abnormal reaction to myvery normal words. “Not really,” she said, surprising me again.

　　I tried to steer the conversation back to trite paths. She was from a much brighter,warmer place—her skin seemed to reflect that somehow, despite its fairness—and thecold must make her uncomfortable. My icy touch certainly had…“You don’t like the cold,” I guessed.

　　“Or the wet,” she agreed.

　　“Forks must be a difficult place for you to live.” Perhaps you should not havecome here, I wanted to add. Perhaps you should go back where you belong.

　　I wasn’t sure I wanted that, though. I would always remember the scent of herblood—was there any guarantee that I wouldn’t eventually follow after her? Besides, ifshe left, her mind would forever remain a mystery. A constant, nagging puzzle.

　　“You have no idea,” she said in a low voice, glowering past me for a moment.

　　Her answers were never what I expected. They made me want to ask morequestions.

　　“Why did you come here, then?” I demanded, realizing instantly that my tone wastoo accusatory, not casual enough for the conversation. The question sounded rude,prying.

　　“It’s…complicated.”

　　  She blinked her wide eyes, leaving it at that, and I nearly imploded out ofcuriosity—the curiosity burned as hot as the thirst in my throat. Actually, I found that itwas getting slightly easier to breathe; the agony was becoming more bearable throughfamiliarity.

　　“I think I can keep up,” I insisted. Perhaps common courtesy would keep heranswering my questions as long as I was rude enough to ask them.

　　She stared down silently at her hands. This made me impatient; I wanted to putmy hand under her chin and tilt her head up so that I could read her eyes. But it would befoolish of me—dangerous—to touch her skin again.

　　She looked up suddenly. It was a relief to be able to see the emotions in her eyesagain. She spoke in a rush, hurrying through the words.

　　“My mother got remarried.”

　　Ah, this was human enough, easy to understand. Sadness passed through herclear eyes and brought the pucker back between them.

　　“That doesn’t sound so complex,” I said. My voice was gentle without myworking to make it that way. Her sadness left me feeling oddly helpless, wishing therewas something I could do to make her feel better. A strange impulse. “When did thathappen?”

　　“Last September.” She exhaled heavily—not quite a sigh. I held my breath asher warm breath brushed my face.

　　“And you don’t like him,” I guessed, fishing for more information.

　　“No, Phil is fine,” she said, correcting my assumption. There was a hint of asmile now around the corners of her full lips. “Too young, maybe, but nice enough.”

　　This didn’t fit with the scenario I’d been constructing in my head.

　　“Why didn’t you stay with them?” I asked, my voice a little too curious. Itsounded like I was being nosy. Which I was, admittedly.

　　“Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living.” The little smile grew morepronounced; this career choice amused her.

　　I smiled, too, without choosing to. I wasn’t trying to make her feel at ease. Hersmile just made me want to smile in response—to be in on the secret.

　　  “Have I heard of him?” I ran through the rosters of professional ball players inmy head, wondering which Phil was hers…“Probably not. He doesn’t play well.” Another smile. “Strictly minor league.

　　He moves around a lot.”

　　The rosters in my head shifted instantly, and I’d tabulated a list of possibilities inless than a second. At the same time, I was imagining the new scenario.

　　“And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him,” I said.

　　Making assumptions seemed to get more information out of her than questions did. Itworked again. Her chin jutted out, and her expression was suddenly stubborn.

　　“No, she did not send me here,” she said, and her voice had a new, hard edge to it.

　　My assumption had upset her, though I couldn’t quite see how. “I sent myself.”

　　I could not guess at her meaning, or the source behind her pique. I was entirelylost.

　　So I gave up. There was just no making sense of the girl. She wasn’t like otherhumans. Maybe the silence of her thoughts and the perfume of her scent were not theonly unusual things about her.

　　“I don’t understand,” I admitted, hating to concede.

　　She sighed, and stared into my eyes for longer than most normal humans wereable to stand.

　　“She stayed with me at first, but she missed him,” she explained slowly, her tonegrowing more forlorn with each word. “It made her unhappy…so I decided it was timeto spend some quality time with Charlie.”

　　The tiny pucker between her eyes deepened.

　　“But now you’re unhappy,” I murmured. I couldn’t seem to stop speaking myhypotheses aloud, hoping to learn from her reactions. This one, however, did not seem asfar off the mark.

　　“And?” she said, as if this was not even an aspect to be considered.

　　I continued to stare into her eyes, feeling that I’d finally gotten my first realglimpse into her soul. I saw in that one word where she ranked herself among her ownpriorities. Unlike most humans, her own needs were far down the list.

　　She was selfless.

　　  As I saw this, the mystery of the person hiding inside this quiet mind began tothin a little.

　　“That doesn’t seem fair,” I said. I shrugged, trying to seem casual, trying toconceal the intensity of my curiosity.

　　She laughed, but there was no amusement the sound. “Hasn’t anyone ever toldyou? Life isn’t fair.”

　　I wanted to laugh at her words, though I, too, felt no real amusement. I knew alittle something about the unfairness of life. “I believe I have heard that somewherebefore.”

　　She stared back at me, seeming confused again. Her eyes flickered away, andthen came back to mine.

　　“So that’s all,” she told me.

　　But I was not ready to let this conversation end. The little V between her eyes, aremnant of her sorrow, bothered me. I wanted to smooth it away with my fingertip. But,of course, I could not touch her. It was unsafe in so many ways.

　　“You put on a good show.” I spoke slowly, still considering this next hypothesis.

　　“But I’d be willing to bet that you’re suffering more than you let anyone see.”

　　She made a face, her eyes narrowing and her mouth twisting into a lopsided pout,and she looked back towards the front of the class. She didn’t like it when I guessedright. She wasn’t the average martyr—she didn’t want an audience to her pain.

　　“Am I wrong?”

　　She flinched slightly, but otherwise pretended not to hear me.

　　That made me smile. “I didn’t think so.”

　　“Why does it matter to you?” she demanded, still staring away.

　　“That’s a very good question,” I admitted, more to myself than to answer her.

　　Her discernment was better than mine—she saw right to the core of things while Ifloundered around the edges, sifting blindly through clues. The details of her very humanlife should not matter to me. It was wrong for me to care what she thought. Beyondprotecting my family from suspicion, human thoughts were not significant.

　　I was not used to being the less intuitive of any pairing. I relied on my extrahearing too much—I clearly was not as perceptive as I gave myself credit for.

　　  The girl sighed and glowered toward the front of the classroom. Something abouther frustrated expression was humorous. The whole situation, the whole conversationwas humorous. No one had ever been in more danger from me than this little girl—atany moment I might, distracted by my ridiculous absorption in the conversation, inhalethrough my nose and attack her before I could stop myself—and she was irritated becauseI hadn’t answered her question.

　　“Am I annoying you?” I asked, smiling at the absurdity of it all.

　　She glanced at me quickly, and then her eyes seemed to get trapped by my gaze.

　　“Not exactly,” she told me. “I’m more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy toread—my mother always calls me her open book.”

　　She frowned, disgruntled.

　　I stared at her in amazement. The reason she was upset was because she thought Isaw through her too easily. How bizarre. I’d never expended so much effort tounderstand someone in all my life—or rather existence, as life was hardly the right word.

　　I did not truly have a life.

　　“On the contrary,” I disagreed, feeling strangely…wary, as if there were somehidden danger here that I was failing to see. I was suddenly on edge, the premonitionmaking me anxious. “I find you very difficult to read.”

　　“You must be a good reader then,” she guessed, making her own assumption thatwas, again, right on target.

　　“Usually,” I agreed.

　　I smiled at her widely then, letting my lips pull back to expose the rows ofgleaming, razor sharp teeth behind them.

　　It was a stupid thing to do, but I was abruptly, unexpectedly desperate to get somekind of warning through to the girl. Her body was closer to me than before, havingshifted unconsciously in the course of our conversation. All the little markers and signsthat were sufficient to scare off the rest of humanity did not seem to be working on her.

　　Why did she not cringe away from me in terror? Surely she had seen enough of mydarker side to realize the danger, intuitive as she seemed to be.

　　  I didn’t get to see if my warning had the intended effect. Mr. Banner called forthe class’s attention just then, and she turned away from me at once. She seemed a littlerelieved for the interruption, so maybe she understood unconsciously.

　　I hoped she did.

　　I recognized the fascination growing inside me, even as I tried to root it out. Icould not afford to find Bella Swan interesting. Or rather, she could not afford that.

　　Already, I was anxious for another chance to talk to her. I wanted to know more abouther mother, her life before she came here, her relationship with her father. All themeaningless details that would flesh out her character further. But every second I spentwith her was a mistake, a risk she shouldn’t have to take.

　　Absentmindedly, she tossed her thick hair just at the moment that I allowedmyself another breath. A particularly concentrated wave of her scent hit the back of mythroat.

　　It was like the first day—like the wrecking ball. The pain of the burning drynessmade me dizzy. I had to grasp the table again to keep myself in my seat. This time I hadslightly more control. I didn’t break anything, at least. The monster growled inside me,but took no pleasure in my pain. He was too tightly bound. For the moment.

　　I stopped breathing altogether, and leaned as far from the girl as I could.

　　No, I could not afford to find her fascinating. The more interesting I found her,the more likely it was that I would kill her. I’d already made two minor slips today.

　　Would I make a third, one that was not minor?

　　As soon as the bell sounded, I fled from the classroom—probably destroyingwhatever impression of politeness I’d halfway constructed in the course of the hour.

　　Again, I gasped at the clean, wet air outside like it was a healing attar. I hurried to put asmuch distance between myself and the girl as was possible.

　　Emmett waited for me outside the door of our Spanish class. He read my wildexpression for a moment.

　　How did it go? he wondered warily.

　　“Nobody died,” I mumbled.

　　I guess that’s something. When I saw Alice ditching there at the end, I thought…  As we walked into the classroom, I saw his memory from just a few momentsago, seen through the open door of his last class: Alice walking briskly and blank-facedacross the grounds toward the science building. I felt his remembered urge to get up andjoin her, and then his decision to stay. If Alice needed his help, she would ask…I closed my eyes in horror and disgust as I slumped into my seat. “I hadn’trealized that it was that close. I didn’t think I was going to…I didn’t see that it was thatbad,” I whispered.

　　It wasn’t, he reassured me. Nobody died, right?

　　“Right,” I said through my teeth. “Not this time.”

　　Maybe it will get easier.

　　“Sure.”

　　Or, maybe you kill her. He shrugged. You wouldn’t be the first one to mess up.

　　No one would judge you too harshly. Sometimes a person just smells too good. I’mimpressed you’ve lasted this long.

　　“Not helping, Emmett.”

　　I was revolted by his acceptance of the idea that I would kill the girl, that this wassomehow inevitable. Was it her fault that she smelled so good?

　　I know when it happened to me…, he reminisced, taking me back with him half acentury, to a country lane at dusk, where a middle-aged women was taking her driedsheets down from a line strung between apple trees. The scent of apples hung heavy inthe air—the harvest was over and the rejected fruits were scattered on the ground, thebruises in their skin leaking their fragrance out in thick clouds. A fresh-mowed field ofhay was a background to that scent, a harmony. He walked up the lane, all but obliviousto the woman, on an errand for Rosalie. The sky was purple overhead, orange over thewestern trees. He would have continued up the meandering cart path and there wouldhave been no reason to remember the evening, except that a sudden night breeze blew thewhite sheets out like sails and fanned the woman’s scent across Emmett’s face.

　　“Ah,” I groaned quietly. As if my own remembered thirst was not enough.

　　I know. I didn’t last half a second. I didn’t even think about resisting.

　　His memory became far too explicit for me to stand.

　　I jumped to my feet, my teeth locked hard enough cut through steel.

　　  “Esta bien, Edward?” Senora Goff asked, startled by my sudden movement. Icould see my face in her mind, and I knew that I looked far from well.

　　“Me perdona,” I muttered, as I darted for the door.

　　“Emmett—por favor, puedas tu ayuda a tu hermano?” she asked, gesturinghelplessly toward me as I rushed out of the room.

　　“Sure,” I heard him say. And then he was right behind me.

　　He followed me to the far side of the building, where he caught up to me and puthis hand on my shoulder.

　　I shoved his hand away with unnecessary force. It would have shattered thebones in a human hand, and the bones in the arm attached to it.

　　“Sorry, Edward.”

　　“I know.” I drew in deep gasps of air, trying to clear my head and my lungs.

　　“Is it as bad as that?” he asked, trying not to think of the scent and the flavor ofhis memory as he asked, and not quite succeeding.

　　“Worse, Emmett, worse.”

　　He was quiet for a moment.

　　Maybe…“No, it would not be better if I got it over with. Go back to class, Emmett. I wantto be alone.”

　　He turned without another word or thought and walked quickly away. He wouldtell the Spanish teacher that I was sick, or ditching, or a dangerously out of controlvampire. Did his excuse really matter? Maybe I wasn’t coming back. Maybe I had toleave.

　　I went to my car again, to wait for school to end. To hide. Again.

　　I should have spent the time making decisions or trying to bolster my resolve, but,like an addict, I found myself searching through the babble of thoughts emanating fromthe school buildings. The familiar voices stood out, but I wasn’t interested in listening toAlice’s visions or Rosalie’s complaints right now. I found Jessica easily, but the girl wasnot with her, so I continued searching. Mike Newton’s thoughts caught my attention, andI located her at last, in gym with him. He was unhappy, because I’d spoken to her todayin biology. He was running over her response when he’d brought the subject up…  I’ve never seen him actually talk to anyone for more than a word here or there.

　　Of course he would decide to find Bella interesting. I don’t like the way he looks at her.

　　But she didn’t seem too excited about him. What did she say? ‘Wonder what was withhim last Monday.’ Something like that. Didn’t sound like she cared. It couldn’t havebeen much of a conversation…He talked himself out of his pessimism in that way, cheered by the idea that Bellahad not been interested in her exchange with me. This annoyed me quite a bit more thanwas acceptable, so I stopped listening to him.

　　I put a CD of violent music into the stereo, and then turned it up until it drownedout other voices. I had to concentrate on the music very hard to keep myself fromdrifting back to Mike Newton’s thoughts, to spy on the unsuspecting girl…I cheated a few times, as the hour drew to a close. Not spying, I tried to convincemyself. I was just preparing. I wanted to know exactly when she would leave the gym,when she would be in the parking lot. I didn’t want her to take me by surprise.

　　As the students started to file out of the gym doors, I got out of my car, not surewhy I did it. The rain was light—I ignored it as it slowly saturated my hair.

　　Did I want her to see me here? Did I hope she would come to speak to me? Whatwas I doing?

　　I didn’t move, though I tried to convince myself to get back in the car, knowingmy behavior was reprehensible. I kept my arms folded across my chest and breathedvery shallowly as I watched her walk slowly toward me, her mouth turning down at thecorners. She didn’t look at me. A few times she glanced up at the clouds with a grimace,as if they offended her.

　　I was disappointed when she reached her car before she had to pass me. Wouldshe have spoken to me? Would I have spoken to her?

　　She got into a faded red Chevy truck, a rusted behemoth that was older than herfather. I watched her start the truck—the old engine roared louder than any other vehiclein the lot—and then hold her hands out toward the heating vents. The cold wasuncomfortable to her—she didn’t like it. She combed her fingers through her thick hair,pulling locks through the stream of hot air like she was trying to dry them. I imaginedwhat the cab of that truck would smell like, and then quickly drove out the thought.

　　  She glanced around as she prepared to back out, and finally looked in mydirection. She stared back at me for only half a second, and all I could read in her eyeswas surprise before she tore her eyes away and jerked the truck into reverse. And thensquealed to a stop again, the back end of the truck missing a collision with Erin Teague’scompact by mere inches.

　　She stared into her rearview mirror, her mouth hanging open with chagrin. Whenthe other car had pulled past her, she checked all her blind spots twice and then inchedout the parking space so cautiously that it made me grin. It was like she thought she wasdangerous in her decrepit truck.

　　The thought of Bella Swan being dangerous to anyone, no matter what she wasdriving, had me laughing while the girl drove past me, staring straight ahead.