"Can I ask just one more?" I pleaded as Edward accelerated much tooquickly down the quiet street. He didn't seem to be paying any attentionto the road.

　　He sighed.

　　"One," he agreed. His lips pressed together into a cautious line.

　　"Well… you said you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I hadgone south. I was just wondering how you knew that."He looked away, deliberating.

　　"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," I grumbled.

　　He almost smiled.

　　"Fine, then. I followed your scent." He looked at the road, giving metime to compose my face. I couldn't think of an acceptable response tothat, but I filed it carefully away for future study. I tried to refocus.

　　I wasn't ready to let him be finished, now that he was finally explainingthings.

　　"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions…" I stalled.

　　He looked at me with disapproval. "Which one?""How does it work — the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind,anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family… ?" I felt silly,asking for clarification on make-believe.

　　"That's more than one," he pointed out. I simply intertwined my fingersand gazed at him, waiting.

　　"No, it's just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairlyclose. The more familiar someone's… 'voice' is, the farther away I canhear them. But still, no more than a few miles." He paused thoughtfully.

　　"It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyonetalking at once. It's just a hum — a buzzing of voices in the background.

　　Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear.

　　"Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. Andthen it's easier to seem normal" — he frowned as he said the word — "whenI'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than theirwords.""Why do you think you can't hear me?" I asked curiously.

　　He looked at me, his eyes enigmatic.

　　"I don't know," he murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe yourmind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughtsare on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He grinned at me,suddenly amused.

　　"My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?" The words bothered me morethan they should — probably because his speculation hit home. I'd alwayssuspected as much, and it embarrassed me to have it confirmed.

　　"I hear voices in my mind and you're worried that you're the freak," helaughed. "Don't worry, it's just a theory…" His face tightened. "Whichbrings us back to you."I sighed. How to begin?

　　"Aren't we past all the evasions now?" he reminded me softly.

　　I looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find words. Ihappened to notice the speedometer.

　　"Holy crow!" I shouted. "Slow down!""What's wrong?" He was startled. But the car didn't decelerate.

　　"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" I was still shouting. I shot apanicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The roadwas only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from theheadlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall— as hard as a wall of steel if we veered off the road at this speed.

　　"Relax, Bella." He rolled his eyes, still not slowing.

　　"Are you trying to kill us?" I demanded.

　　"We're not going to crash."I tried to modulate my voice. "Why are you in such a hurry?""I always drive like this." He turned to smile crookedly at me.

　　"Keep your eyes on the road!""I've never been in an accident, Bella — I've never even gotten aticket." He grinned and tapped his forehead. "Built-in radar detector.""Very funny." I fumed. "Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abideby traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around atree trunk, you can probably just walk away.""Probably," he agreed with a short, hard laugh. "But you can't." Hesighed, and I watched with relief as the needle gradually drifted towardeighty. "Happy?""Almost.""I hate driving slow," he muttered.

　　"This is slow?""Enough commentary on my driving," he snapped. "I'm still waiting foryour latest theory."I bit my lip. He looked down at me, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle.

　　"I won't laugh," he promised.

　　"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me.""Is it that bad?""Pretty much, yeah."He waited. I was looking down at my hands, so I couldn't see hisexpression.

　　"Go ahead." His voice was calm.

　　"I don't know how to start," I admitted.

　　"Why don't you start at the beginning… you said you didn't come up withthis on your own.""No.""What got you started — a book? A movie?" he probed.

　　"No — it was Saturday, at the beach." I risked a glance up at his face.

　　He looked puzzled.

　　"I ran into an old family friend —Jacob Black," I continued. "His dad andCharlie have been friends since I was a baby."He still looked confused.

　　"His dad is one of the Quileute elders." I watched him carefully. Hisconfused expression froze in place. "We went for a walk —" I edited allmy scheming out of the story "— and he was telling me some old legends —trying to scare me, I think. He told me one…" I hesitated.

　　"Go on," he said.

　　"About vampires." I realized I was whispering. I couldn't look at hisface now. But I saw his knuckles tighten convulsively on the wheel.

　　"And you immediately thought of me?" Still calm.

　　"No. He… mentioned your family."He was silent, staring at the road.

　　I was worried suddenly, worried about protecting Jacob.

　　"He just thought it was a silly superstition," I said quickly. "He didn'texpect me to think anything of it." It didn't seem like enough; I had toconfess. "It was my fault, I forced him to tell me.""Why?""Lauren said something about you — she was trying to provoke me. And anolder boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation,only it sounded like he meant something different. So I got Jacob aloneand I tricked it out of him," I admitted, hanging my head.

　　He startled me by laughing. I glared up at him. He was laughing, but hiseyes were fierce, staring ahead.

　　"Tricked him how?" he asked.

　　"I tried to flirt — it worked better than I thought it would." Disbeliefcolored my tone as I remembered.

　　"I'd like to have seen that." He chuckled darkly. "And you accused me ofdazzling people — poor Jacob Black."I blushed and looked out my window into the night.

　　"What did you do then?" he asked after a minute.

　　"I did some research on the Internet.""And did that convince you?" His voice sounded barely interested. But hishands were clamped hard onto the steering wheel.

　　"No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" I stopped.

　　"What?""I decided it didn't matter," I whispered.

　　"It didn't matter?" His tone made me look up — I had finally brokenthrough his carefully composed mask. His face was incredulous, with justa hint of the anger I'd feared.

　　"No," I said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster?

　　If I'm not human!""No."He was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak and cold.

　　"You're angry," I sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything.""No," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather knowwhat you're thinking — even if what you're thinking is insane.""So I'm wrong again?" I challenged.

　　"That's not what I was referring to. 'It doesn't matter'!" he quoted,gritting his teeth together.

　　"I'm right?" I gasped.

　　"Does it matter?"I took a deep breath.

　　"Not really." I paused. "But I am curious." My voice, at least, wascomposed.

　　He was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?""How old are you?""Seventeen," he answered promptly.

　　"And how long have you been seventeen?"His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted atlast.

　　"Okay." I smiled, pleased that he was still being honest with me. Hestared down at me with watchful eyes, much as he had before, when he wasworried I would go into shock. I smiled wider in encouragement, and hefrowned.

　　"Don't laugh — but how can you come out during the daytime?"He laughed anyway. "Myth.""Burned by the sun?""Myth.""Sleeping in coffins?""Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice.

　　"I can't sleep."It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?""Never," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. He turned to look at mewith a wistful expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost my trainof thought. I stared at him until he looked away.

　　"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voice washard now, and when he looked at me again his eyes were cold.

　　I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?""You aren't concerned about my diet?" he asked sarcastically.

　　"Oh," I murmured, "that.""Yes, that." His voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drinkblood?"I flinched. "Well, Jacob said something about that.""What did Jacob say?" he asked flatly.

　　"He said you didn't… hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed tobe dangerous because you only hunted animals.""He said we weren't dangerous?" His voice was deeply skeptical.

　　"Not exactly. He said you weren't supposed to be dangerous. But theQuileutes still didn't want you on their land, just in case."He looked forward, but I couldn't tell if he was watching the road or not.

　　"So was he right? About not hunting people?" I tried to keep my voice aseven as possible.

　　"The Quileutes have a long memory," he whispered.

　　I took it as a confirmation.

　　"Don't let that make you complacent, though," he warned me. "They'reright to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous.""I don't understand.""We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do.

　　Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alonewith you.""This is a mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't knowif he could as well.

　　"A very dangerous one," he murmured.

　　We were both silent then. I watched the headlights twist with the curvesof the road. They moved too fast; it didn't look real, it looked like avideo game. I was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, like theblack road beneath us, and I was hideously afraid that I would never haveanother chance to be with him like this again — openly, the walls betweenus gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from theidea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with him.

　　"Tell me more," I asked desperately, not caring what he said, just so Icould hear his voice again.

　　He look............